The Art of Urdu in Hindi Films: Losing A Poetic Legacy

Posted on May 31, 2013 by mrandmrs55

Legendary Bollywood lyricists Jan Nisar Akhtar (far left) and Sahir Ludhianvi (left center) enjoy a birthday celebration.

The language of Hindi films has evolved since the first talkie Alam Ara in 1931, based on a Parsi play. The Golden Age of Hindi cinema that blossomed with the studio era of the 1950s and ebbed by the late 1970s is one of India’s greatest artistic achievements. During that time, Hindi films could hardly be called Hindi films. Rather, Hindustani, a mixture of Urdu and Hindi, was the lingua franca of the silver-screen—a reflection of a country unified by a fascinatingly diverse heritage with linguistic influences from Sanskrit, Farsi, Bengali, Arabic, Panjabi, and a myriad of others.

To anyone unfamiliar with the distinction between Urdu and Hindi—there are no hard and fast rules. What many call Hindi, others would call Urdu, but most everyone can appreciate their structural and grammatical similarity. Any attempt to divide them is based on the root origins of the vocabulary intermingled with what is generally a highly homologous syntax. “Urdu” vocabulary tends to draw upon words of Farsi or occasionally Arabic and Turkish origin and “Hindi” vocabulary is generally derived from Sanskrit or regional dialects. But don’t be fooled into thinking any word “belongs” to another language (or those of a particular religion)—Hindustani may vary speaker to speaker, community to community, but the language is all-encompassing.

Veteran Urdu poet Kaifi Azmi (left) with his daughter actress Shabhana Azmi (center), who married contemporary lyricist Javed Akhtar, and wife Shaukat Azmi (right).

The impact of Urdu in the Indian mainstream can be no better summed up by the famous words of our freedom struggle: “Inquilaab zindabaad!” or “Sarfaroshii kii tamanna ab hamaare dil mei.N hai.” Controversial arguments have been made relating the decline in popularity to links with Pakistan, which adopted Urdu as its official language. Yet in Hindi films for decades, the legacy of Urdu poetry continued to flourish in India as the pinnacle of culture and expression.

Indeed, despite enormous gaps in literacy across the country, some of the most popular songs of that era amazingly contain the most complex Urdu-based vocabulary. Perhaps one reason is that the Hindi film song-writers themselves were trained in the art of Urdu poetry. Many of the finest and most successful poets of Hindi film: Sahir Ludhianvi, Raja Mehdi Ali Khan, Gulzar, Hasrat Jaipuri, Shakeel Badayuni, Kaifi Azmi, Jan Nisar Akhtar, and Majrooh Sultanpuri to name but a few, began their careers in Urdu mushairaas, or poetic symposiums.

Record-breaking winner of 11 Filmfare awards for best lyrics, poet Gulzar (right) stands with actor Amitabh Bacchan (left) for whom he wrote hits from the dialogue of Anand (1971) to the modern dance number “Kajra Re” from Bunty Aur Babli (2006)

It would seem more than mere coincidence that these artists came to dominate film lyrics. Like many arenas, the Bombay film industry was an old boy network: Sahir Ludhianvi for example was close friends with Jan Nisar Akhtar, who became in-laws with Kaifi Azmi, who was a prominent member of the pre-partition Progressive Writer’s Movement with Majrooh Sultanpuri. And the music directors who often hand-picked their lyricists and made recommendations to film producers were also steeped in similar artistic traditions. Veteran composer Naushad grew up in the heart of Lucknowi culture, and Madan Mohan spent his childhood in the Middle East, eventually getting his break by joining the All India Radio in Lucknow. Yet connections in the film industry account for only part of its success—audiences had to maintain demand as well.

From the epic qawwali “Yeh Ishq Ishq Hai” from Barsaat Ki Raat (1961), the lilting ode, “Aap Ki Nazron Mein Samjha” from Anpadh 1962), to the playful duet “Deewana Hua Badal” from Kashmir Ki Kali (1964), Urdu in films was remarkably accessible—holding a place for any viewer in every genre. True, it is unlikely the entire audience understood each word in those songs. However, in this manner, film and music could be educational for those who did not–a unique way of preserving the culture they reflected back on. As parallel cinema diva Shabana Azmi aptly quipped,

“If you compare today’s songs with the songs of the 1960s and 1970s, then definitely today’s songs are according to the demand. But if you see, Hindi films used to protect the Urdu language as they used it, but it is slowly dying and I feel bad for it.”

The same extended to the dialogues of films themselves–and I don’t refer only to genre films like Pakeezah (1971) or Mughal-e-Azam (1961). Pure Urdu was ubiquitous in classic Hindi cinema, wafting equally through the sets of an urban crime drama and meandering through a village epic. The importance and sheer beauty of Urdu poetry in dialogues is highlighted in one of the most famous film speech’s of yesteryear. The stirring climax of Daag (1973) culminates in a speech given by Rajesh Khanna’s character for an award bestowed to him by his community. Notice how in this and so many other scripts, Urdu is an inextricable poetic catalyst for the Hindi speech:

Rajesh Khanna’s Speech from Daag (1973):

“Aap.
Aap kya jaane mujhko samajhte hai.N kyaa?
Mai.N to kuch bhi nahii.N

“You.
I do not know what you make of me
For I am nothing

Is qadar pyaar itnii baDe bheed ka mai.N rakhuu.Ngaa kya?
Is qadar pyaar rakhne ke qaabil nahii.N
Mera dil, merii jaan…
Mujhko itni mohabbat na do, dosto.
Soch lo dosto…
Is qadar pyaar kaise sambhaaluu.Ngaa mai.N?
Mai.N to kuch bhi nahii.N

How can I carry such love from so great a crowd?
I am not worthy of such great love
My heart, my life…
Do not give me so much love, my friends
Think instead.
How will I bear such great love?
For I am nothing.

Pyaar.
Pyaar ek shakhs ko agar mil sake to badii cheez hai zindagi ke liye
Aadmi ko magar yeh bhi milta nahii.n
Yeh bhi milta nahii.n
Mujhko itni mohabbat milii aap se,
Mujhko itni mohabbat milii aap se…
Yeh mera haq nahii.N, merii taqdiir hai.
Mai.N zamaane ki nazro.N mei.N kuch bhi na thaa.
Merii ankho.N mei.N ab tak woh tasveer hai

Love.
If a man can receive love, it is a great thing in life
Yet many men do not even receive this
They do not even receive this
I have received so much love from you,
I have received so much love from you
This is not my right, it is my fate
I was once nothing in the eyes of the world
And in my eyes, that image remains

Izzate.N, shauharate.N, chaahate.N, ulfate.N, koi cheez duniya mei.N rehtii nahii.N
Aaj mai.N huu.N jahaa.N, kal koi aur thaa.
Yeh bhi ek daur hai, woh bhi ek daur thaa…

Respect, fame, desire, love, nothing remains in the world permanently
Today where I am, yesterday there was someone else
This is one generation, that was another generation…

Aaj itni mohabbat na do dosto.
Ki mere kal kii khatir ka kuch bhi rahe
Aaj ka pyaar thoDa bacha kar rakho
Aaj ka pyaar thoDa bacha kar rakho, mere kal ke liye

Today do not give me so much love, my friends
So that there may be some left for me tomorrow
Today, save some of that love
Today save some of that love for my days ahead

Kal.
Kal jo gumnaam hai
Kal jo sunsaan hai
Kal jo anjaan hai
Kal jo viiraan hai

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow which is anonymous
Tomorrow which is silent
Tomorrow which is unknown
Tomorrow which may be barren

Main to kuch bhi nahii.N huu.N
Mai.N to kuch bhi nahii.n”

I am nothing at all
I am nothing at all.”

With every thoughtfully chosen word, the pervasive Urdu “qaaf” is pronounced as delicately as the gentle “khe,” and the lines are delivered with the poetic overtures of a song lyric. These dialogues were written with poetry in mind, and indeed many song lyricists eventually took to writing entire film scripts (the script of Daag was written by immortal Urdu poet Akhtar ul Iman of Waqt and Gumraah fame).

Immortal lyricist Majrooh Sultanpuri (right) with music director R.D. Burman and film director Nasir Hussain at a 1983 recording session.

Famed lyricist Majrooh Sultanpuri (right) with music director R.D. Burman (center) and film director Nasir Hussain (left) at a 1983 recording session.

It would be impossible to summarize the incredible work of these poets in one post (hence why we’ve devoted much of our blog to it!). A small sampling of Filmfare award-winning lyrics are below:

“Chaudhvin ka chaand ho, ya aftaab ho? Jo bhi ho tum khudaa ki qasam laa-jawaab ho…” –Shakeel Badayuni (Chaudhvin Ka Chand 1961)

“Chaahuu.Ngaa mai.N tujhe saa.Nj saveN.re. Phir bhi kabhi ab naam ko tere awaaz mai.N na doo.Ngaa…”--Majrooh Sultanpuri (Dosti 1965)

“Bahaaro.N phool barsaao, meraa mehboob aayaa hai. Hawaao.N raagini gaao, meraa mehboob aaya hai…”--Hasrat Jaipuri (Suraj 1967)

“Kabhi kabhi mere dil mei.N khayaal aataa hai ki jaise tujhko baanaayaa gaya hai mere liye…” –Sahir Ludhianvi (Kabhi Kabhi 1977)

“Aanewaalaa pal jaanewaalaa hai. Ho sake to is mei.N zindagii biTaado pal jo yeh jaanewalaa hai…” — Gulzar (Gol Maal 1980)

I was fortunate to have the chance to learn to read and write in Urdu from my grandparents who moved to New Delhi after the partition of Punjab. But this opportunity is so rare that I found after my grandfather passed away, I know few people to whom I can still write in Nasta’liq. Urdu is a language of romance—more beautiful than French and Italian, and more intricate than superficial political divides. The legacy of Urdu will continue to add to the allure and nostalgia of old films for generations to come. For the loss of Urdu is more than the mere loss of vocabulary. Without Urdu in Hindi films, we have lost our own andaaz–the manner with which we once communicated our thoughts and feelings, our decorum, and a rich, meaningful ornamentation in expressing ourselves that can never be replaced.

-Mrs. 55

Panchhi Banoon Udti Phiroon Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

Posted on May 25, 2013 by mrandmrs55

Nargis frees a bird from its cage in a symbolic representation of her unfettered joy in Chori Chori (1956)

I have some good news to share with our readers: I was recently accepted to my top-choice medical school and I will be matriculating there this fall! To celebrate this momentous occasion in my life, I am providing the lyrics and English translation to one of Bollywood’s most memorable feel-good numbers from Chori Chori (1956): panchhii banuu.n uDtii phiruu.n.

Adapted from Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night (1932), Chori Chori (1956) narrates the story of a wealthy socialite (played by Nargis) who flees her home when her father objects to her decision to marry a pilot with a reputation for womanizing and greed. En route to Bangalore, Nargis encounters Raj Kapoor, a journalist hoping to scoop this exciting story about an heiress on the run. Throughout the course of their journey, the initial bickering and animosity between Raj Kapoor and Nargis gradually transforms into love. This film’s most memorable asset is the on-screen chemistry shared by Raj Kapoor and Nargis, who were involved in a real-life affair that became the talk of the town in the Bollywood industry during this era.

Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable star in It Happened One Night (1932).

Placed into the context of the film, panchhii banuu.n uDtii phiruu.n sung by Lata Mangeshkar is picturized on Nargis as she basks in her newfound freedom after running away from home. Composed by Shankar-Jaikishan and penned by Hasrat Jaipuri, this song is inspired by a traditional Scottish standard called “Comin’ Thro’ the Rye.” In addition to its Western influences, Hindustani classical music buffs may also argue that this melody is based on the pentatonic Raga Bhupali. Indeed, the diversity of musical influences found in the Chori Chori soundtrack make this one of Shankar-Jaikishan’s most treasured scores. From classical (“rasik balma“) to folk (“man bhaavan ke ghar“) to Western (“aajaa sanam madhur chaa.ndnii“), the compositions in Chori Chori are remarkable for their technical quality and popular appeal. It is no surprise that Shankar-Jaikishan received a well-deserved Filmfare Award for this soundtrack in 1957.

The exuberant essence of panchii banuu.n uDtii phiruu.n is undeniable: its exaltation of life brings a smile to my face with every listen. As I celebrate my acceptance to medical school, I hope to continue pursuing my dreams in the future with this spirit of joie de vivre always in mind. Until next time…

-Mr. 55

The rural landscape accentuates Nargis’s liberated state of mind in Chori Chori (1956).

Panchhi Banoon Udti Phiroon: Lyrics and Translation

panchhii banuu.n uDtii phiruu.n mast gagan me.n
As a bird, I want to fly in the beautiful sky.
aaj mai.n aazaad huu.n duniyaa ke chaman me.n
Today, I have been liberated in the garden of the world.

(hillorii, hillorii)

mere jiivan me.n chamkaa saveraa
The morning light has shined brightly in my life.
miTaa dil se vah gham kaa andheraa
It has removed the darkness of sorrow from my heart.
hare kheton me.n gaaye koii lahraa
Someone sings, billowing in the green fields.
yahaa.n dil par kisi kaa na pahraa
Here, no one keeps guard over the heart.
rang bahaaro.n ne bharaa mere jiivan me.n
The Spring has filled my life with color.
aaj mai.n aazaad huu.n duniyaa ke chaman me.n
Today, I have been liberated in the garden of the world.

dil yah chaahe bahaaro.n se kheluu.n
My heart desires that I play with the Spring.
gorii nadiyaa ke dhaaro.n se kheluu.n
I shall frolic in the currents of the fair river.
chaand suuraj sitaaro.n se kheluu.n
I shall play with the Moon, the Sun, and the stars.
apnii baaho.n me.n aakaash le luu.n
I shall embrace the sky in my arms.
baDhtii chaluu.n gaatii chaluu.n apnii lagan me.n
I shall forge ahead as I sing to my own tune.
aaj mai.n aazaad huu.n duniyaa ke chaman me.n
Today, I feel liberated in the garden of the world.

(hillorii, hillorii)

mai.n to oDhuu.ngii baadal kaa aa.nchal
I shall wear a shawl of clouds.
mai.n to pahnuu.ngi bijlii kii paayal
I shall wear an anklet of lightning rods.
chhiin luu.ngii ghaTaao.n se kaajal
I shall steal some kohl from the dark clouds.
meraa jiivan hai nadiyaa kii halchal
My life is like the movement of a river:
dil se mere lahre.n uThe.n ThanDii pavan me.n
waves arise from my heart in the cool breeze.
aaj mai.n aazaad huu.n duniyaa ke chaman me.n
Today, I have been liberated in the garden of the world.

panchhii banuu.n uDtii phiruu.n mast gagan me.n
As a bird, I want to fly in the beautiful sky.

*Female lines in red are sung by Lata Mangeshkar. Male lines in green are sung by Manna De.

Glossary

panchhii: bird; mast: beautiful, incredible; gagan: sky; aazaad: liberated, free; chaman: garden; saveraa: morning; andheraa: darkness; haraa: green; khet: field; lahraanaa: to billow; pahraa: guard; rang bharnaa: to fill with color; goraa: fair; dhaar: current of a river; sitaaraa: star; aakaash: sky; baDhnaa: to advance, move forward; aa.nchal oDhnaa: to wear a shawl; pahnaa: to wear; bijlii: lightning; paayal: anklet; chiin lenaa: to steal; ghaTaa: dark cloud; kaajal: kohl; halchal: bustle, movement; lahar: wave; pavan: breeze, wind.

The color version of this song released by UltraHindi offers modern vibrance to a timeless beauty.

Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

Posted on May 3, 2013 by mrandmrs55

Shamshad Begum Bollywood playback singer

Bollywood playback legend Shamshad Begum (1919-2013)

Last Wednesday, Bollywood lost another of its finest treasures: legendary playback singer Shamshad Begum. The veteran singer was 94 years old. She was well-known for breaking the norms–a maverick with a Brenda Lee-esque penchant for the Western and an irresistible je ne sais quoi that drew hoards of admirers from across the sub-continent. While Lata Mangeshkar and her clones sought to define femininity by delicate, high-pitch vocals Shamshad Begum proved over and over again that a sexy, strong timber could still carry innocence and that women in India could not all be categorized by a single stereotyped voice. Yes, the world needed Shamshad Begum, a woman who never succumbed to expectations and whose daring voice lent itself to some of the greatest works of Bollywood’s Golden Age. We salute you, Shamshad, and the invaluable service you did to the nascent Hindi film industry.

Who can forget her performance with Nigar Sultana as the sultry Bahar in Mughal-e-Azam‘s “Teri Mehfil Mein Qismat“? Few women dared sing a duet with Lata Mangeshkar for fear of inferiority–but that was precisely where the great talents of Shamshad shined their brightest. With a voice unlike anything in Bollywood history, Shamshad dazzled audiences with a deep, edgy flair for which she was famous. There was simply no competition because the voices were incomparable. Shamshad’s other famous duets such as “Leke Pehla Pehla Pyar” with Mohammed Rafi from CID (1956), “Mere Piya Gaye Rangoon” with Chitalkar Ramchandra in Patanga (1949) or “Kajra Mohabbatwala” with Asha Bhonsle in Qismat (1968) to name a few, showcase her unique robust twist on the norm and continue to be remade and popularized today.

Shamshad Begum receiving the Padma Bhushan for a lifetime of achievements in 2009.

Music director O.P. Nayyar confessed in an interview that when he entered the music industry, he begged Shamshad Begum to sing for his compositions. Her first collaboration with him became absolutely legendary: “Kabhi Aar, Kabhi Paar” from the film Aar Paar (1954). Here at Mr. and Mrs. 55, our favorite of her solo hits is the extraordinarily catchy S.D. Burman composition, “Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re” from Bahar (1951) in which classical dancer Vijayantimala made her Bollywood debut.

You can tell from themyriad of hand gestures reminiscent of a classical mudra to accompany the emotion of each line (coupled with her impeccable posture), that teenager Vijayantimala was well-trained in Bharatnatyam arts. This theatrical dance form meshes interestingly with the medium of film, at times carrying the over-expression of a silent movie and the spectacle of a living room classical dance performance. Perhaps the best part of this adorably innocent love song (besides, of course, Shamshad’s vocals!) is the clever and hilariously unnecessary drama accompanying the actresses 4 costumes changes in the song!

Vijayantimala in Bahar 1951 Saiyan Dil Mein Ana Re

Young Vijantimala makes her Bollywood film debut singing Shamshad Begum’s “Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re” in Bahar (1951).

Please enjoy the full lyrics and English translation to this Shamshad Begum hit “Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re” below and let us know YOUR favorite Shamshad Begum song in the comments!

Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re Lyrics and Translation:

Saiyaa.N dil mei.N aanaa re
Beloved, come into my heart
Aake phir na jaanaa re
And once you come, never leave
Chham chhamaa chham chham

Raja ban ke aanaa re
Like a king, come to me
Mohe leke jaanaa re
And take me with you when you go
Chham chhamaa chham chham

Chaandnii raat hogii, taaro.N kii baaraat hogii
It will be a moonlit night, the stars will form a wedding procession
Pehle pehle pyaar kii pehlii pehlii baat hogii
The first words of my first love will be spoken
Khushii khushii gaaye.Nge ham geet suhaanaa re
We will joyfully sing a beautiful song

ThoDii thoDii sahal hogii, thoDaa thoDaa pyaar hogaa
Little by little, our love will become easy
Kabhii iqraar hoga, kabhii inkaar hogaa
Sometimes you will agree with me, sometimes you will refuse me
Teraa manaanaa meraa rooTh jaanaa re
But you appease me, my anger will disappear

Tum mere paas hoge, gham baDii duur hogaa
You will be beside me, and all sadness will be far away
Kehtaa hai jiyaa meraa hogaa zuroor hogaa
My heart tells me this will certainly be so
Laanaa re laanaa tashriif laana re
Come, believe in me

Saiyaa.N dil mei.N aanaa re
Beloved, come into my heart
Aake phir na jaanaa re
And once you come, never leave
Chham chhamaa chham chham

Raja ban ke aanaa re
Like a king, come to me
Mohe leke jaanaa re
And take me with you when you go
Chham chhamaa chham chham

Glossary:

saiyaaN: beloved; raajaa: king; chaandnii: moonlight; baaraat: wedding procession; khushii: happiness, joy; geet: song; suhaanaa: beautiful; thoDaa: a little; sahal: easy; iqraar: agreement, acceptance; inkaar: refusal; manaanaa: to appease someone; rooTh: sulk, anger; gham: sadness; duur: far; jiyaa: soul, heart; zuroor: certainly; tashriif laanaa: a respectful way of asking someone to come or to enter (and in doing so, trust their honor with you)

So now you’re asking yourself, why is there no translation given for arguably the best line of the song: “Chham chhamaa chham chham“? There are a few ways to analyze this line–whether she’s referencing the glittering of stars, doing some free-styling by adding an extemporaneous beat to the melody, or getting carried away by the excitement of her own life–I think any real attempt to translate that exceedingly interpretive line formally would be an injustice to the song’s joie de vivre. Let us know your favorite Shamshad Begum moment in the comments!

– Mrs. 55