I have explained in my final wrap up of the review of songs of 1945 how the idea of year-wise reviews of the best songs of the year started and why I termed the year 1945 as the end of Season 1. There was doubt in my mind whether the series would or should at all continue after that. That had to do with the culmination coinciding with 10 years of SOY, which ended neatly in 2020. But the readers urged for continuation – some for taking up 1956 onwards, some preferring 1944 backwards. Since the blog is not shutting down, I veered towards continuing the series.
Wishing the readers and their families a very Happy Holi
Colloquial equivalents of Sanskrit terms usually retain their exact meaning, such as singaar for shringaar, barkha for varsha etc. But did you give a thought how in case of jogi, which is the Hindi equivalent of yogi, the connotation changes so drastically? As regards yogi, there is no doubt they are ascetics, detached from the world, engaged in their personal meditation and communion with the divine, in some cave in the Himalayas. “The Autobiography of a Yogi” by Paramhans Yoganand, first published in 1946, is still regarded as a spiritual classic after 75 years.
Dev Anand described his autobiography as ‘Romancing with Life’. He got to sing on the screen, Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya, Har fikr ko dhuyen mein udata chala gaya, embodying this philosophy. But he continued with his romantic hero image well into his 70s to the dismay of his fans. To me, he appeared as if he was not romancing with life, but with Dev Anand the screen star, who was long past his ‘Use before’-date.
Guest article by Ashok M Vaishnav paying a tribute to Ninu Mazumdar on his 21st death anniversary (9 September 1915 – 3 March 2000)
(Ninu Mazumdar is a big name in Gujarati music. Hence we have Ashok M Vaishnav paying a tribute to him with this guest article. He has brought us closer to other stalwarts from Gujarat, such as Avinash Vyas and Dilip Dholakia, who worked actively in Hindi films too. This is in addition to Ashokji’s numerous other guest articles on this blog on many themes.
Ninu Majumdar’s music and songs have been mentioned sometimes on SOY. But not many know that he was also a very melodious singer. Ashokji has done a very extensive research on his career, and in this article he presents songs sung by him under his baton as a music director. Except one, Ayi gori Radhika, all the songs presented here must be new to the readers. This bouquet of songs is a listener’s delight. I thank Ashokji for this excellent article. – AK)
Ninu is the family pet name of Niranjan Mazumdar (B: 9-9-1915 | D: 3-3-2000), who has 20 Hindi films to his credit as a music director, 28 Hindi film songs in his own voice, one film each as a lyricist and as a film director. Ninu Mazumdar was born in a community, which was traditionally more literate in those times. His father, Nagendra Mazumdar, was a dramatist and director in the silent film era. Nagendra Mazumdar has also acted in a comedy cameo role in K L Saigal’s classic Tansen (1943). Ninu Mazumdar’s childhood upbringing happened under the guidance of his maternal grandmother at the then Gaikwad princely state Baroda. She herself was a leading social reformist. Here, Ninu Mazumdar got his initial training in classical music under Ustad Faiyaz Khan and Ustad Imam Chili Khan.
For quite some time songs like Ajnabi, tum jaane pahchaane se lagte ho, and Kuchh ajanbi se aap hain, kuchh ajanbi se hum have been buzzing like bee in my head for an inexplicable reason. Then an incredible coincidence happened. One day I decided to browse through my books collected over the years that had not been touched, many of which are likely to remain unread. When I randomly opened a page of The Collected Poems of Vikram Seth, I came across this:
We all love historical films of Raja-Rani, even though their story does not have much to do with reality or history, except that they pertain to well-known historical figures set in a defined period in history. These films showed the grandeur of the palace and the royals’ life style. Sohrab Modi acquired larger than life image for his great historical films like ‘Pukar’ (1939) and ‘Sikandar’ (1941). You can relate to them because they were about well-known legends associated with them. The former about Jahangir’s sense of justice in which he is willing to submit himself to the same punishment as would have been given to a commoner, and the latter about the famous legend of King Porus holding his head high even in defeat – when asked by Alexander how he should be treated, Porus replied, “Just like a king treats another king”. We also feel happy to be a vicarious witness to an important fixed point in history – 326 B. C. which I consider the beginning of our formal historiography.
The same applies to the Mughals in Bollywood on whom D P Rangan has written an excellent article. There are legends galore about them and their royal ladies – a goldmine for Bollywood. These movies’ slender connection to history is that the principal characters are from known history. We can’t say the same for the stories – these may be well-known folklore, but not necessarily historical facts.
I am most troubled by the other Raja-Rani films, and there must be dozens of them. We have been an independent country for 73 years and a republic for 71 years, therefore, when I watch a film like Aan (1952) I am curious which period or location it belongs to. Rajkumar (1964) was a Raja-Rani film. and there was a Rani Sahiba as late as in 1980 in Karz. We know there were about 550 princely states, but surely there were famous ones like Jaipur, Jodhpur, Udaipur, Gwalior, Baroda, Patiala, Rampur, Hyderabad, Awadh which played an important role in history. I gave up because there were so many Raja-Rani films of indeterminate place and time, and the experts I knew were as clueless as I was.
But I am delighted by Raja-Rani songs of ‘O mere Raja, O meri Rani, khafa na hona’ type. Raja-Rani are not kings or queens, these are colloquial endearing terms to address one’s lover or beloved. Raja has another very specific usage – in a raunchy folk song-dance performance the singer, who may be a transgender, would often address an inebriated person ‘Ae Raja’ suggestively to make him shower some currency notes on her. The courtesan would often address a rich patron, or a lover, ‘Raja’, which had nothing to do with a royal lineage, but simply a term of endearment – sometimes genuine, but often a part of her performance repertoire.
The Vintage Era was the heyday of Raja-Rani songs. One of the roaringly famous vintage songs one immediately recalls is, ‘More Raja ho le chal nadiya ke paar/ Mori rani ho tumhin mori pran aadhar. Raja-Rani were very socialist, egalitarian terms. In Patanga (1949), the traffic constable Yaqub was Raja, and Nigar Sultana, a street performer helping her father in earning their livelihood, was Rani. Since they were Raja and Rani, they naturally hit it off like a house on fire.
Raja-Rani songs are delightful because they are history-neutral and status-neutral. Let me present some of my favourites.
1. Humein bhool mat jaiyo Rajaji by Zohrabai Ambalewali and Aziz from Shahenshah Babar (1944), lyrics Pt Indra, music Khemchand Prakash
This has been a most fascinating discovery during my blogging years. The lady pleads her ‘Rajaji’ not to forget her, and warns him of all the enchantresses in different directions. You will never come across a more compliant ‘Rajaji’ who assures her that he is going only because of call of duty, his heart will remain with her. He even promises he would not go to panghat even when he is thirsty, he would quench his thirst by her memories.
2. Ab Raja bhaye more baalam wo din bhool gaye by Khursheed from Tansen (1943), lyrics DN Madhok, music Khemchand Prakash
(Tani) Khusrheed’s Tana (KL Saigal) has gone to Akbar’s court; for all practical purposes he has himself become a royal, and she sings a sad song for the lover who has become a ‘Raja’.
3. O bhangiyo ke raja mera nanha sa dil bahla ja by Ram Kamlani and Shamshad Begum from Doosri Shadi (1947), lyrics IC Kapoor, music Govind Ram
Full blast Punjabi School’s song with equally funky lyrics.
4. Kabhi yaad karke gali par kar ke chali ana hamaare anagana by Chitalkar and Binapani Mukherji from Safar (1946), lyrics Gopal Singh ‘Nepali’
I think there was something of a Raja – the ‘bindas’ lover – in the personality of C Ramchandra, if you go by information on him, or excerpts from his banned autobiography, available in public domain. And fittingly, he created at least two immortal Raja-Rani songs in the vintage era. Veteran SOY-ers would recall that at the invitation of her lover to cross the threshold of his courtyard, the lady unhesitatingly responds, Raja more man ke tori Rani ban ke chali aaun tumhare angana.
5. More Raja ho le chal nadiya ke paar by Rafi and Lalita Deulkar from nadiya Ke Paar (1948), lyrics Moti B.A., music C Ramchandra
This is the second everlasting song composed by C Ramchandra I was referring. This time the lady beckons her lover to ferry her across the river, and he is oozing intense love, Mori Rani ho, tumhin mori pran adhar.
6. Main akeli Raja aa ja sanwariya kaise baaje muraliya by Nirmala Devi from Geet (1944), music Naushad
The year 1944 has become synonymous with Rattan; it would be a surprise for many of us that he composed music for another film in the year. That was a period when Naushad was fishing around many singers before he would finally settle with Lata Mangeshkar in a big way, and perhaps Shamshad Begum to some degree. Nirmala Devi, a classical singer sings this courtesan-style song in a very impressive way, this is a song of lament that she cannot play her music in the absence of her ‘Raja’.
7. Muskurate ho kyun itaraate ho kyun abhi to pehli pehchan hai Raja by Geeta Dutt and AR Oza from Pehli Pechan (1947), lyrics Pt Indra Chandra, music Hansraj Behal
Here is a beautiful Raja-Rani song sung by Geeta Dutt and AR Oza, who sounds uncannily similar to Mukesh. I doubt that HFGK credit may be wrong and the singer might be Mukesh himself.
8. Nazar laagi Raja tore bangale par by Asha Bhosle from Kala Pani (1958), lyrics Majrooh Sultanpuri, music SD Burman
This is a proper courtesan song when the patrons went to her to be entertained, and some to forget their worries. For her they were all her ‘Rajas’ – to make them feel important for her.
9. Hamaar kaha mana Rajaji by Usha Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle from Dulhan Ek Raat Ki
Madan Mohan gives a makeover to the traditional bandish by composing it as a fast-paced dance duet, picturised on Helen and Laxmi Chhaya at a marriage function of Dharmendra and Nutan.
10. Hamar kahi mano Rajaji by Begum Akhtar
Music lovers will recall that Madan Mohan’s great favourite Begum Akhtar had sung this traditional dadra in her own inimitable style. Please note she says ‘kahi’ instead of ‘kaha’. and there is a pathos in her pleading with Rajaji. She also warns him of the dangers of going to distant lands. This is the same concern as in song #1, which was a duet. There the Rajaji was also at hand to assure her that he would take all due care. Begum Akhtar has no such comfort, as such the sadness in her voice is palpable.
11. Phulgendwa na maaro Raja, lagat karejawa mein chot by Jaddanbai (Bhairavi thumri)
We are familiar with this traditional Bhairavi thumri, thanks to Manna Dey’s version sung in a comic style, picturised on Agha in the film Dooj Ka Chaand (1964), composed by Roshan. The connoisseurs of classical music would have heard the legendary Rasoolan Bai’s signature piece. I came across this version by Jaddanbai which became roaringly popular in its time. We know her primarily as the mother of Nargis, and as one of the earliest female music directors of Hindi films – her Talash-e-Haq (1935)predating Saraswati Devi. For the record, now we know that they are both preceded by Bibbo (Ishrat Sultana/Jahan?) who gave music for Adal-e-Jahangir (1934). But I don’t want to digress to this trivia. You will notice a special feature of Jadanbai’s rendering – an emphasis on Raja, which adds pathos to the plaintive pleading repeated in many different ways, which is the hallmark of thumri singing. Even a heartless patron would stop and realise that he has to soothe her hurt ‘karejawa’. Which flippant Casanova can walk away from the आर्त्त पुकार – राजे निर्मोहिया दरदिया न जाने मोरा. After this thumri my esteem for Jaddanbai has gone several notches higher. The uploader has put a picture placing her along Siddheshwari Devi, Rasoolan Bai, Badi Moti Bai etc. I am not surprised, she got training from the legendary thumri singers Moujuddin Khan and Ustad Barkat Ali Khan (brother of Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan).
Disclaimer and Acknowledgement
The video links of songs have been added only for the listening pleasure of the music lovers. This blog claims no copyright over these songs which rests with the respective owners such as Saregama etc.
Greeting the readers on the 71st anniversary of our Republic Day with guest article by Subodh Agrawal
(Subodh Agrawal last wrote his guest article in the series on film songs based on classical music about a year ago. That was on Bhimpalasi and her sisters Dhani, Multani and Patdeep. He again writes on a set of sister ragas Bageshri, Rageshri and Malgunji. Most of us do not know and, therefore, do not care. But we are all familiar with film songs in Bageshri. Subodh acquaints us with songs in Rageshri and Malgunji too, which are our great favourites without knowing their ragas. As usual he also presents some exquisite classical pieces. Subodh’s speciality is that he does not awe us with his knowledge. All in all a great way to celebrate our Republic Day. Looking at how the US democracy crumbled and was about to be overrun at the instance of an unhinged leader on January 6, we realise democracy hangs with a slender thread, and we have to constantly work to preserve it. I thank Subodh and greet all the readers on the 71st anniversary of our Republic. – AK)
This article has been in the making for a long time. I had finalized the list of songs to be included more than a year back. But as it happens, of the seven deadly sins, I happen to be guilty of sloth more than any other. What shook me out of sloth was chancing upon a beautiful composition in Bageshri accompanied by a wonderful dance performance. So, let me share that first:
There is detailed information about the artists in the YouTube description. Thank you, Indian Raga and AIM for Seva for shaking me out of my lethargy.
Bageshri was one of the first ragas I learnt to recognize and appreciate, thanks to my friend Pankaj Sharan. It took me quite some time to learn to distinguish it from Rageshri. The similarity between the two ragas is a little hard to understand because there are several important differences between the two: Rageshri completely omits the fifth note Pancham and it uses shudh gandhar instead of the komal gandhar of Bageshri. I became aware of Malgunji much later. Even today I haven’t developed a feel for it – I assume a composition is in Malgunji if it sounds a bit like both Bageshri and Rageshri, and I am right half the time. Bageshri can also be confused at times with Bhimpalasi.
I won’t go into a discussion of the scales of the three ragas. This information is freely available on the net for those who are interested. The best reference, as always, is www.parrikar.org.
All three ragas are very sweet and pleasant – ideal for shringar rasa. Malgunji is perhaps the sweetest, while Rageshri has a touch of gravity. So, let us begin with the songs in Bageshri.
1. ‘Chah barbaad karegi’ by K L Saigal from Shahjehan (1946), music by Naushad, lyrics by Majrooh Sultanpuri
Although the predominant mood of Bageshri is shringar, like all ragas it can also be used to express a variety of emotions. Naushad uses it to express regret and sadness and Saigal gives life to it in his inimitable style:
2. ‘Jaag dard-e ishq jaag’ by Hemant Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar from Anarkali (1953), music by C Ramachandra, lyrics by Rajendra Krishna
C Ramachandran and Rajinder Krishan gave us a timeless classic in Bageshri. Shringar is very much there, but with more than a touch of pathos. I am intrigued by the choice of Hemant Kumar as a singer for this classically complex song, but I am glad CR went for him. It is hard to imagine the song having the same impact in the voice of Manna Dey or Mohammad Rafi – the two most gifted male singers for classical songs:
3. ‘Radha na bole na bole re’ by Lata Mangeshkar from Azad (1955), music by C Ramachandra, lyrics by Rajendra Krishna
This is an iconic song in Bageshri, something students of music can use to get a feel for the raga. The mood is teasing, romantic and delightful – the key mood of Bageshri:
4. ‘Jao jao Nand ke lala’ by Lata Mangeshkar from Rangoli (1962), music by Shankar Jaikishan, lyrics by Shailendra
A playful and romantic dance number. I forget the classification AK had done of nayikas in his article. What kind of nayika tells the nayak to get lost, although that’s the last thing she wants: (Subodh, you can take a mix of Khandita and Kalahaantarita in some ratio x1 and x2 where x1+x2 = 1. – AK)
5. ‘Bedardi dagabaaz ja’ by Lata Mangeshkar from Bluff Master (1963), music by Kalyanji Anandji, lyrics by Rajendra Krishna
Evolutionary psychology is a subject that fascinates me – how human behaviour is shaped through evolution by the need to get as many copies of one’s genes into the next generation as possible. One book I read recently classifies men into dads and cads: cads have fun with, and impregnate, a lot of women but don’t stick around to take care of the children; dads settle down with one partner, father fewer children but look after them. Eventually the population stabilizes with a large majority of dads and a fair sprinkling of cads.
If film songs are to be believed, women seem to have a special fondness for cads even when they know they would be left holding the baby – literally. It is an interesting topic to explore. Meanwhile let us enjoy this song from an aptly titled film:
6. ‘Kaise kate rajni’ by Ustad Amir Khan and Pratima Banerji from Khudito Pashan (1960), music by Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, lyrics by Pandit Bhushan
A proper classical bandish from the Bengali classic film Khudito Pashan expressing the mood of viyog shringar:
7. ‘Ja re beimaan tujhe jaan liya’ by Manna Dey from Private Secretary (1962), music by D Dilip, lyrics by Prem Dhawan
Another song addressed to a ‘cad,’ this time in a male voice. Like number 5 this one also demonstrates the effectiveness of a false beard as a disguise:
I now come to Rageshri. I have a problem here. I had no difficulty placing the raga for the Bageshri songs, but except for the Mughal-e Azam song I did not easily recognise the raga in the Rageshri list. This was puzzling because I have no difficulty in recognising Rageshri in proper classical pieces. Trying out the sargam of the songs on my flute, despite my limited ability, helped decipher the mystery – the songs at number 9, 10 and 11 have many departures from the standard movement of Rageshri. I don’t understand why film music composers could not come up with songs in the pure version of the raga, when they could do so in Bageshri and so many others.
8. ‘Shubh din aayo’ by Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan from Mughal-e Azam (1960), music by Naushad, lyrics by Shakeel Badayuni
As I said above, this is the only song in the list in pure Rageshri:
9. ‘Kaun aaya mere man ke dware’ by Manna Dey from Dekh Kabira Roya (1957) music by Madan Mohan, lyrics by Rajendra Krishna
This is among the most beautiful classical songs rendered by Manna Dey, who has often been relegated to lending his voice to comedians in films. This one is also filmed on Anup Kumar, but he doesn’t seem to be playing a comic role – I don’t know, as I have not seen the film. This one uses pa and komal ga quite freely – two notes not permitted in Rageshri.
10. ‘Maane na’ by Lata Mangeshkar from Jaagir (1959), music by Madan Mohan, lyrics by Raja Mehdi Ali Khan
The instrumentals in this song appear quite faithful to Rageshri, but not the vocal – particularly in the stanzas:
11. ‘Mere sang ga gunguna’ by Suman Kalyanpur from Janwar (1965), music by Shankar Jaikishan, lyrics by Hasrat Jaipuri
Of the three this one comes closest to the standard movement of Rageshri, but for the occasional use of pa. Good to see Rajshri. We talk of brain drain, but what about beauty drain from India!
I now come to Malgunji. I don’t have a good grasp of this raga, and I have included the songs based on various internet sites. Pardon me if I have included a song not quite in this raga. All the songs, however, have a beauty that is both sensuous and serene.
12. ‘Nain so nain naahi milao’ by Hemant Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar from Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje (1955), music by Vasant Desai, lyrics by Hasrat Jaipuri
For a long time I believed this song was in Bageshri. Then I heard it in a radio program that used to do what I try to do through this series of articles – introduce listeners to classical ragas through film songs – and I became aware of Malgunji. The remainder of the list followed:
13. ‘Ghar aa ja ghir aaye’ by Lata Mangeshkar from Chhote Nawab (1961), music by R D Burman, lyrics by Shailendra
This one best presents the serene and sensuous mood of Malgunji. This song marked the arrival of young RD Burman a.k.a. Pancham:
14. ‘Naa jiya lage na’ by Lata Mangeshkar from Anand (1971), music by Salil Chowdhury, lyrics by Yogesh
Salil da used the tune of one of his Bengali originals for this beautiful song. The lyricist Yogesh gave a couple of beautiful songs including ‘Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye’ in this film, but one didn’t hear much from him after this.
This brings us to the end of the list of film songs. Before I present the classical pieces, I would share this folk song by Surinder Kaur. Bageshri is not a raga associated with folk music, but this song combines the earthiness of folk with the sophistication of classical. Our heroine is calling to her beloved to cross over the pattan (ford) of Jhanaan (Chenab). The obvious reference is to the legend of Sohni Mahiwal. An instrumental version of the sthayee of this song used to be the signature tune of one of the programs on All India Radio – I forget which one.
A friend of mine who comes from a long lineage of classical and devotional singers was not convinced about this song being in Bageshri. He then talked to Dolly Guleria – Surinder Kaur’s daughter – who confirmed it was indeed Bageshri. The composer is credited as K Pannalal:
Bismillah’s Bageshri was the first classical LP I bought when I started building my collection in the seventies as a student of IIT Kanpur. It brings back memories of those carefree days:
Kumar Gandharva loved to experiment. Opinion about him is sharply divided among music lovers. Most of my friends in IIT, where I picked up the rudiments of classical music, loved his ‘Sakhi man laage na’ but there was at least one who strongly disliked it. I have been unable to locate a link to that recording. I am therefore giving a link to another performance of his. Thanks to AK for helping me locate it:
Pandit Ravi Shankar’s Rageshri highlights the gravity of Rageshri in comparison to Bageshri and Malgunji. To fully enjoy it you must connect it to a proper sound system, or use high quality headphones:
Before concluding I would like to make brief mentions of four related ragas: two close to Bageshri, and two to Rageshri. Abhogi is to Bageshri what Dhani is to Bhimpalasi – omits some of the notes but retains the feel and mood:
Gorakh Kalyan has nothing to do with Kalyan or Yaman – it is closer to Bageshri. Our music Guruji in IIT used to explain it by saying ‘what else do you expect from something named Gorakh!’ For those unfamiliar with the idiom, ‘Gorakh dhandha’ is something that is not quite straight or above board. This piece by Salamat and Nazakat Ali is delightful:
Bhinna Shadj, also known as Kaushik Dhwani or Hindoli can be described as the basic frame on which Rageshri is built by the addition of re and change of shudh ni to komal. The 2014 film ‘Ankhon Dekhi’ had an outstanding song ‘Dhime re re’ in this raga sung by Mansheel Gujral:
There are several classical pieces on Bhinna Shadj by Kishori Amonkar on YouTube. I present here a short one to whet the reader’s appetite. Amol Palekar has made a film on Kishori Amonkar and chose to title it Bhinna Shadj:
Finally, use of the fifth note pa in Rageshri with some change in movement takes us to Hemant. The 1972 film Bawarchi has this song ‘Tum bin Jeevan kaisa jeevan’ in Manna Dey’s voice:
That’s all friends. Allow me to go back in hibernation until something like ‘Madhur Madhur Meenakshi’ again stirs me into writing the next article.
Acknowledgement and Disclaimer:
1. The song videos have been embedded from the YouTube only for the listening pleasure of the music lovers. This blog does not claim any copyright over these songs which vests in the respective owners, such as Saregama India Limited and others.
2. The thumbnail picture of paiting of Bageshri has been gratefylly taken from oeom.com.
3. YT links of classical pieces have been left as they are without embedding their video format for ease of lading the page.
Wishing the readers Happy Makar Sankranti, Pongal, Lohri and Magh Bihu with the concluding tribute to N Datta, with his songs for ‘other’ singers
N Datta’s music in BR Films’ Sadhana (1958), Dhool Ka Phool (1959), and Dharmaputra (1961) is of such a high quality that I found it quite surprising that Gumrah (1963) onwards Ravi became almost a permanent fixture in BR Chopra camp. The music and the movies were so successful that it was difficult to think of anyone replacing Ravi. But it is important to remember that N Datta gave music for BR Chopra films five years before Ravi first joined the banner, and secondly, N Datta’s music is absolutely superb, his iconic songs matching with the best of anyone, and treating him as some kind of lesser-Ravi, or Ravi-filler is misplaced. As for record, N Datta debuted with Milaap (1955), the same year as Ravi debuted with Vachan. And if Ravi had been assistant to Hemant Kumar, N Datta to an even more celebrated Bengali music director S D Burman.
Wishing the readers a very Happy New Year with guest article by Rahul Bhagwanrao Muli
(Rahul Bhagwanrao Muli is a familiar name for SoY regulars. He is one of the latecomers to the blog, having first discovered it in 2016 – the blog was started in 2010. But he has made a mark for his insightful comments, wit, easy command of language and interesting turn of phrase. An eminently suitable person to write a guest article. I am happy that he accepted my request to write one on a topic of his choice.
‘Ud jayega hans akela’ is a famous Nirgun bhajan of Kabir, which has become synonymous with Kumar Gandharva. We all leave this world alone. Similarly there are solitary songs from forgotten films or forgotten music directors that have achieved everlasting fame. Hindi film music would be poorer without these Hans Akelas.
Covid19 changed the world in many fundamental ways. The most important change it forced on us was to make us unlearn that the ‘Man is a social animal’. My post on ‘Songs and contra-songs’ was influenced a great deal by the raging pandemic. Its broad theme was suggested by Mr Muli, though long before anyone had heard of the new virus. It is befitting that he has chosen to write on ‘Hans Akela’ to herald the New Year. We all wish that the dark clouds disappear in the New Year and we don’t ‘have to be’ Hans Akelas, and we are back to our normal lives as we are used to.
Mr Muli is an MSc in Statistics and a trained Cost & Management Accountant (CMA). He has been a banker for a number of years, a faculty member at ICFAI, and has been now managing his own coaching institute for CA aspirants in Aurangabad.
Mr Muli’s debut article has everything you can expect from his pen. Thank you Mr Muli and welcome to the Guest Authors Club. – AK)
I believe that an average Indian has at least one of the following three traits: she or he is a Hindi Film buff, or a zealot cricket lover, or a disillusioned political analyst and I am no exception.
My journey with HFM started at the age of 7 years when I first listened to Aaasma ke neeche. Mine was a well-to-do family in a small town of Marathwada. In the late sixties, arrival of a new radio was no less than a festival for us. The seller had come to our house and was demonstrating the clarity of various stations. While surfing he hit upon this station where Aasma ke neeche was being played. He lingered over there for a moment and changed the station quickly, knowing very well that Vakil Saab (my father) abhorred Hindi films and songs. But the song had a lasting impression on me, and in the due course when I became aware that SD Burman was the composer, I became and still am his fan (a case of love at first sight).
And the Award for the Best Music Director of 1945 goes to? And wishing everyone Merry Christmas
Coming to the final Wrap Up 4, i.e the Best Music Director of 1945 is akin to the end of a Season of a web-series. For those who have not been with SOY since the beginning of the series, a refresher of how it all started will be in order. Long back then-active readers AM and KR Vaishampayan suggested that I do a yearwise survey of the music of pre-Filmfare Awards years 1953-45, in reverse order, and place it for in-depth analysis, comments and suggestions by the readers. AM and KRV have gone off the radar since, but off and on I get mails from KRV about his welfare and that he has been busy in his personal matters.
Filmfare Awards selection calendar was not coterminous with the calendar year in which the films were made, because the cut-off date for nomination was before the end of the year and due to other administrative procedures. For example, the first Filmfare Award for the Best Music was given to Naushad in 1954 for Baiju Bawara (1952). Two movies made in 1954 – Taxi Driver (S D Burman) and Nagin (Hemant Kumar) – got the Awards for the Best Music Director in 1955 and 1956 respectively. Thus, there are gaps in 1955 and 1953, hence you see these years covered in my yearwise reviews.
AK on Rafi ‘s songs for “not the top heroes”Gandhi Vadlapatla, I remember one of Rafi's best patriotic songs, Jahan daal daal par sone ki chidiya karti hai basera...
Gandhi Vadlapatla on Rafi ‘s songs for “not the top heroes”Sir, Your post on Rafi’s songs for “not the top heroes” is an excellent coverage of many rare gems. It...
I have explained in my final wrap up of the review of songs of 1945 how the idea of year-wise reviews of the best songs of the year started and why I termed the year 1945 as the end of Season 1. There was doubt in my mind whether the series would or should at all continue after that. That had to do with the culmination coinciding with 10 years of SOY, which ended neatly in 2020. But the readers urged for continuation – some for taking up 1956 onwards, some preferring 1944 backwards. Since the blog is not shutting down, I veered towards continuing the series.
