Tere Bina Zindagi Se Koi Shikwa Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

Posted on May 11, 2015 by mrandmrs55

Directed by the renowned lyricist Gulzar, Aandhi stirred up quite the controversy after the film was released in 1975. Shortly after the release of Aandhi, India found itself in the midst of a national state of emergency instituted by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in response to the deep-seated political unrest and instability that had emerged across the nation. The 21-month Emergency of 1975-1977 is often viewed as one of the darkest eras in the political history of post-independence India: corruption, censorship, and the suspension of civil liberties threatened to compromise the basic principles upon which the nation’s democracy had been built. In this context, it’s not surprising that Aandhi was banned by the government during the Emergency on the grounds that the film’s protagonist bore an inappropriate resemblance to Mrs. Gandhi. As a result, certain scenes depicting the protagonist drinking and smoking were re-shot and an extra scene in which the protagonist tells her father that she idolizes Indira Gandhi (“ye hii to mere ideal hai.n“) was included to separate the film from real life. Although the parallels in appearance, mannerisms, and even the film’s title (Aandhi, meaning storm, rhymes with Gandhi) are undeniable, Gulzar explains in an old Filmfare interview that he never intended to base this film on the life of Indira Gandhi:

“Contrary to popular opinion, my story wasn’t based on Indira Gandhi’s life. It had nothing to do with Indira-ji. She was just the role model for the lady politician. Frankly, who better could there be? She was such a dynamic lady.”

Suchitra Sen tells her father that she idolizes Indira Gandhi in a flashback scene that was added to Aandhi (1975) after the film was initially banned by the government.

With inspiration from a novel titled Kali Aandhi by Hindi author Kamaleshwar, Aandhi (1975) depicts the story of Aarti Devi (portrayed by Suchitra Sen) as she struggles to balance her professional ambitions with her quest for personal gratification while navigating through the volatile world of Indian politics. While traveling on the campaign trail, Aarti is caught by surprise when she runs into her estranged husband JK (portrayed by Sanjeev Kumar), who happens to be the owner of the hotel where she is staying currently. Nine years ago, the call to public service compelled Aarti to eschew her domestic duties and leave her husband and daughter in order to pursue her dreams of becoming a politician. After their unexpected reunion, Aarti and JK cultivate a tender but awkward relationship as they reminisce about memories from their past and come to realize that they still have unresolved feelings for each other after all these years. Through an artistic use of flashbacks, we learn about the development of Aarti and JK’s early romance, the disapproval of their marriage by Aarti’s father, and the eventual breakdown of their relationship. Their domestic conflict evolves into an Abhimaan-esque clash of egos and personalities, and they eventually decide to part ways after several failed efforts to maintain a happy marriage.

Suchitra Sen sports Indira Gandhi’s trademark silver streak in Aandhi (1975).

Ultimately, Aandhi illustrates the complexities of an evolving relationship between two individuals who share mutual respect and affection for each other but are unable to reconcile their differences to converge seamlessly on the same path. In addition to providing a mature and realistic view of human relationships, Aandhi sheds light on the unique challenges that confront Indian women in positions of power as they attempt to balance their professional and personal lives. Although Aarti wins her election at the conclusion of the film, this victory is made bittersweet as she grapples with an unfortunate reality: professional success and domestic bliss were often mutually exclusive for Indian women of her time.

The Martand Sun Temple near Anantnag, Kashmir serves as a gorgeous backdrop for this classic song from Aandhi (1975).

In addition to Gulzar’s skillful direction and the captivating performances delivered by Suchitra Sen (her diction is excused!) and Sanjeev Kumar, Aandhi is remembered most often today for its soundtrack of stunning songs composed by R.D. Burman using Gulzar’s poetry. Each Lata-Kishore duet is a gem and serves to illustrate a different facet of Aarti and JK’s relationship in the film. In particular, the classic “tere binaa zindagii se koii” is a tender and wistful expression of regret and lost love. Without the frills of an elevated vocabulary, this song boldly questions: can living life without the one you love be considered a life at all?

Tere Bina Zindagi Se Koi Shikwa: Lyrics and Translation

tere binaa zindagii se koii shikvaa to nahii.n, shikvaa nahii.n
I have no complaints against a life without you.
tere binaa zindagii bhii lekin zindagii to nahii.n, zindagii nahii.n
Yet a life without you is not a life at all.

kaash aisaa ho tere qadamo.n se
I wish that, from your footsteps,
chunke manzil chale.n aur kahii.n, duur kahii.n
we could find a new destination; somewhere else, somewhere far.
tum gar saath ho manzilo.n kii kamii to nahii.n
With you by my side, there is no shortage of destinations for us to reach.

SK: suno Aartii, ye jo phuulo.n kii bele.n nazar aatii hai.n na?
Listen Aarti, do you see those things that look like flower vines?
darasal ye bele.n nahii.n, arabii me.n aayate.n likhii.n hai.n.
In fact, they are not vines. They are verses written in Arabic.
ise din ke vaqt dekhnaa chaahiye, bilkul saaf nazar aatii hai.n.
We should see them during the day. They can be read very clearly.
din ke vaqt yah saaraa paanii se bharaa rahtaa hai.
During the day, this whole place is filled with water.
din ke vaqt jab ye phuvaaare…
During the day, when these fountains…

SS: din kii baat kyo.n kar rahe ho? kahaa.n aa paauu.ngii mai.n din me.n?
Why do you keep talking about the day? How will I come here during the day?

SK: yah jo chaand hai na? ise raat main dekhnaa.
Do you see this Moon? Watch it at night.
yah din me.n nahii.n nikaltaa.
It does not come out during the day.

SS: yah to roz nikaltaa hogaa.
But the Moon comes out every night.

SK: haa.n, lekin biich me.n amaavas aa jaatii hai.
Yes, but the dark fortnight comes in between.
vaise to amaavas pandrah din kii hotii hai.
The dark fortnight usually lasts 15 days.
lekin is baar bahut lambii thii.
But this time, it felt much longer.

SS: nau baras lambii thii na?
It felt as if it were nine years long, no?

jii me.n aataa hai tere daaman me.n
I yearn to seek refuge in your bosom
sar chhupake ham rote rahe.n, rote rahe.n
to hide my face as I continue to weep.
terii bhii aa.nkho.n me.n aa.nsuuo.n kii namii to nahii.n
Are your eyes not clouded by the mist of fresh tears, too?

tum jo kah do to aaj kii raat
If you say so tonight,
chaa.nd Duubegaa nahii.n, raat ko rok lo
even the Moon will not wane. Please stop the night from passing!
raat kii baat hai, aur zindagii baaqii to nahii.n
We only have tonight, for the rest of our lives will not be shared together.

tere binaa zindagii se koii shikvaa to nahii.n, shikvaa nahii.n
I have no complaints against a life without you.
tere binaa zindagii bhii lekin zindagii to nahii.n, zindagii nahii.n
Yet a life without you is not a life at all.

*Female lines in red are sung by Lata Mangeshkar. Male lines in green are sung by Kishore Kumar. The dialogue takes place between Sanjeev Kumar (SK) and Suchitra Sen (SS).

Glossary

shikvaa: complaint; qadam: footstep; chunnaa: to select; manzil: destination; kamii: shortage, dearth; bele.n: vines; darasal: in fact; aayate.n: verses; phuvaare: fountains; amaavas: dark fortnight; pandrah: fifteen; baras: year; daaman: lap, bosom; aa.nsuu: tear; namii: moistness; chaa.nd: Moon.

After rumors circulate regarding her nightly meetings with Sanjeev Kumar, Suchitra Sen reveals to the public that she has been meeting her estranged husband in Aandhi (1975).

Did you know that this song was based on a Bengali melody originally composed by R.D. Burman for a Durga Puja album in the 1970s? Listen to “jete jete pathe holo deri” to hear this melody sung by the composer himself! When Gulzar heard R.D. Burman working on this song with Bengali lyricist Gauriprasanna Mazumdar, he enjoyed the song so much that he wrote Hindi lyrics for the tune so it could be included in Aandhi. When Gulzar inserted the iconic “nau baras lambii thii, na?” dialogue in between antaras of this song, he reports in the same interview that R.D. Burman was not pleased:

“So we kept the original tune for the mukhda, and he composed something else for the antara. But when I inserted some dialogue into the lyrics, Pancham scolded me, ’Do you have any idea of sur and taal? You cut in with your dialogue anywhere you want. Its not done!’ But we did it!”

They certainly did something right, as this song has become immortalized as one of Hindi film music’s most treasured creations. Thanks to our reader Raju for requesting this post! Until next time…

-Mr. 55

Teri Bindiya Re Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

Posted on January 5, 2013 by mrandmrs55

Amitabh Bacchan marries a village girl with a golden voice in Abhimaan (1973)

Today, we present the lyrics and English translation of an evergreen duet from Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Abhimaan (1975): terii bi.ndiyaa re . Starring Amitabh Bacchan and Jaya Bhaduri, Abhimaan narrates the story of an ill-fated love between two singers that eventually approaches it breaking point when a husband’s masculine ego suffers a wound from his wife’s overwhelming professional success.

Given that this film revolves around a playback singing couple, the composition of its soundtrack naturally demanded a music director par excellence. In this case, director Hrishikesh Mukherjee chose veteran composer S.D. Burman to do the job–and what a job he did! Aside from the duet presented here, the Lata solos “nadiyaa kinaare,” “ab to hai tum se,” and “piyaa binaa,” the Kishore solo “miit na milaa re man kaa,” and the Lata-Kishore duet “tere mere milan kii yah rainaa” are still cherished by fans today. S.D. Burman’s compositions in this film won him his last Filmfare Award for Best Music Director before his death in 1975.

The duet terii bindiyaa re is sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Mohammed Rafi at a point in the film where Amitabh Bacchan introduces his newly wedded wife Jaya Bhaduri at their wedding reception. In response to a request, they sing this duet for the guests at their party. Here, Majrooh Sultanpuri’s lyrics describe the allure of a woman’s ornaments, specifically her bi.ndiyaa (beauty spot), jhumkaa (earring), and ka.nganaa (bangle). Voiced by Lata Mangeshkar on playback, Jaya Bhaduri offers an on-screen performance that illustrates a wife’s admiration and respect for her husband. Since this song takes place before Amitabh Bacchan’s tragic descent into insecurity, he is able to reciprocate with affection and warmth. However, after this performance, a classical musician (played by David) in the audience recognizes that Jaya is the technically superior singer and expresses concern about the couple’s future…watch the film to see how the drama unfolds!

Those of you who are more musically inclined may have noticed that this song is based in rupak taal, a 7-beat rhythmic cycle that was used far less frequently by Bollywood composers than kaharva taal (8 beats) or dadra taal (6 beats). Interestingly, S.D. Burman has also used this unconventional rhythmic pattern skillfully in the film’s other popular duet tere mere milan kii yah rainaa.

What are some of your other favorite Hindi songs that describe female ornaments? Feel free to share with us in the comments! Until next time…

– Mr. 55

Jaya Bacchan gives a Filmfare Award-winning performance as a humble and talented singer whose success in the music industry ultimately hurts her husband’s ego.

Teri Bindiya Re: Lyrics and Translation

terii bi.ndiyaa re, re aay haay!
Your beauty spot, oh!
sajan, bi.ndiyaa le legii terii ni.ndiyaa
Oh beloved, my beauty spot will steal away your sleep.
re aay haay! terii bindiyaa re
Oh, your beauty spot!

tere maathe lage hai.n yuu.n jaise chandaa taaraa
It clings to your forehead like a star to the moon.
jiyaa me.n chamke kabhii kabhii to, jaise koii a.ngaaraa
It shines in my heart from time to time, as if it were a glowing ember.
tere maathe lage hai.n yuu.n
It clings to your forehead.
sajan, nindiyaa le legii, le legii, le legii merii bi.ndiyaa
Beloved, my beauty spot will steal away your sleep.
re aay haay! teraa jhumkaa re
Oh, your earring!
chain lene na degaa sajan tum kaa
It will not let you be at peace, beloved.
re aay haay! meraa jhumkaa re
Oh, my earring!

meraa gahnaa balam tuu, tose saj ke Doluu.n
You are my jewelry, beloved. Adorning myself with you, I will dance.
bhaTakte hai.n tere hii nainaa, mai.n to kuchh na boluu.n
Your eyes wander, yet I say nothing at all.
meraa gahnaa balam tuu
You are my jewelry, beloved.
to phir yah kyaa bole hai, bole hai, bole hai teraa ka.nganaa?
Then, what is it that your bangle says?
re aay haay! meraa kanganaa re
Oh, my bangle!
bole re ab to chhuuTe na teraa a.nganaa
It says that it will not leave your courtyard.
re aay haay! teraa ka.nganaa re
Oh, your bangle!

tuu aayii hai sajaniyaa, jab se merii ban ke
Beloved, since you came to me and became mine,
Thuumak-Thuumak chale hai tu, merii nas-nas khanke
your strutting has made me feel a jitter in my veins.
tuu aayii hai sajaniyaa
Beloved, since you came to me.
sajan, ab to chhuuTe na, chhuuTe na, chhuuTe na, teraa anganaa
Beloved, it will not leave your courtyard.
re aay haay! teraa ka.nganaa re
Oh, your bangle!
sajan, ab to chuuTe na teraa a.nganaa
Beloved, it will not leave your courtyard.
re aay haay! teraa a.nganaa re
Oh, your courtyard!

*Female lines in red are sung by Lata Mangeshkar. Male lines in green are sung by Mohammed Rafi.

Glossary

bindiyaa: beauty spot; nindiyaa: sleep; jiyaa: heart; chamkaanaa: to shine, glow; angaaraa: ember; jhumkaa: earring; sajan: beloved; gahnaa: jewelry; balam: beloved; tose: from you, an archaic form of ‘tujhse‘; sajnaa: to adorn; Dolnaa: to swing, dance; bhaTaknaa: to wander; nainaa: eye; kanganaa: bangle; chhuTnaa: to leave, forsake; a.nganaa: courtyard; sajaniyaa: beloved; Thumak-Thumak chalnaa: to strutter; nas-nas: veins; khanaknaa: to jitter.

In her first major non-vamp role, Bindu plays the ‘other woman’ as a rich socialite who fawns over Amitabh Bacchan in Abhimaan (1973).

Rabindranath Tagore’s Influence on S.D. Burman

Posted on March 26, 2012 by mrandmrs55

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) and S.D. Burman (1906-1975)

Due to my upbringing in a Bengali household, I am intimately familiar with Rabindra-sangeet: the genre of songs written and composed by Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore. As a composer, artist, novelist, playwright, poet, and philosopher, Tagore has left a lasting legacy on Indian culture through his vast collection of works in a variety of mediums. Although the purism and simplicity of Tagore’s style might suggest that Bollywood is an inappropriate forum to celebrate his art, several music directors from the Golden Age of Hindi cinema have been known to use Tagore songs as inspirations for their musical compositions. The music director who is most well-known for this practice is none other than the illustrious S.D Burman. S.D. Burman is one of the most succesful music directors in the history of the Bollywood industry, and his songs from films such as Bandini (1963), Guide (1965), Jewel Thief (1967), and Aradhana (1969) are still considered all-time classics today. His filmi compositions tend to draw upon inspiration from Bengali folk traditions (e.g. bhatiaalii, saari, etc. ), but here I’d like to draw your attention to a collection of S.D. Burman compositions that are derived from Rabindra-sangeet:

meraa sundar sapnaa biit gayaa (Do Bhai, 1949): From one of S.D. Burman’s first hit scores in the Bollywood industry, this song is considered to be Geeta Dutt’s breakthrough as a playback singer in Hindi films. The mukhDaa of this song is inspired by a Bilaaval-based Tagore composition called “radono bharaa e basonto.” Geeta does an excellent job of expressing the sorrow and pain of this song with her voice, and it is truly unfortunate that the lyrics here would become a reality for her during her tumultuous marriage to Guru Dutt in the next decade.

Playback singer Geeta Dutt (1930-1972) with her husband Guru Dutt (1925-1964)

nain diivaane (Afsar, 1950): This Pilu-based composition is skilfully rendered by Suraiyya, a leading singer/actress who became a huge sensation in Bollywood during the 1940s. Bollywood as we know it today relies on actors and actresses lip-syncing songs sung by playback singers; however, in its very early days, actresses like Suraiyya used to sing their own songs for films. In spite of their dual talents, singer-actresses were not able to survive the onslaught of the Mangeshkar monopoly in the 1950s, and the playback singing paradigm became the standard that is still maintained today in the industry. In any case, this song is based on an extremely popular Tagore composition called “sediin duujane duulechhiinuu bone.” S.D. Burman literally did a copy-paste job here, as the melody of the entire Hindi song is identical to the Bengali original. While loosely basing a mukhDaa on a previous composition is somewhat acceptable, recycling a whole song written by another composer begs the question: should S.D. Burman have given credit to Tagore for this composition?

Singer/actress Suraiyya (1929-2004)

jaaye.n to jaaye.n kahaa.n? (Taxi Driver, 1954): S.D. Burman won his first Filmfare Award for Best Music Director for this song from Taxi Driver in 1954. As is often the case, the male version of the song (sung by Talat Mehmood) is more popular than the female version (sung by Lata Mangeshkar). Although S.D. Burman modified the raga of his composition to more closely resemble Jaunpuri, the first line of the mukhDaa is instantly recognizable as the main phrase from Tagore’s Bhairavi-based classic “ he khoniiker otiithhii.” Note that the Tagore original that I have provided here is sung by Hemanta Mukherjee (a.k.a Hemant Kumar), who, in addition to achieving fame as a Hindi playback singer/music director, was known for his beautiful renditions of Rabindra-sangeet in Bengali.

jalte hai.n jiske liye: (Sujata, 1959): This probably qualifies as my favorite “telephone song” from a Hindi film. Here, Sunil Dutt woos Nutan over the phone with this gem as he croons to Talat Mehmood’s silky vocals on playback (notice the characteristic quiver that we know and love!). Although this composition is often considered an all-time classic song of romance, fans of this song may be surprised to know that the mukhDaa is taken directly from a Tagore composition named “ekodaa tumii priye.”

Sunil Dutt serenades Nutan over the telephone with “jalte hai.n jiske liye” in Sujata (1959)

meghaa chhaye aadhii raat (Sharmilee, 1971): Out of all the compositions listed here, the inspiration from Tagore is the most difficult to hear in this song because it does not involve the mukhDaa. Rather, S.D. Burman seems to have inserted a small segment of laho laho tuule laho (0:26-0:40) into the antara of this raga Patdeep-based classic from Sharmilee. What a trickster, huh?

tere mere milan kii yeh rainaa (Abhimaan, 1973): By far, this is the most famous example where S.D. Burman has been inspired by Rabindra-sangeet. In his last hit film score (for which he won his second Filmfare Award for Best Music Director), S.D. Burman recycles the mukhDaa from Tagore’s Mishra Khamaj-based “jodii taare nai chiinii go sekii?” in this evergreen duet of Lata Mangeshkar and Kishore Kumar. Burman’s antaras are a beautiful addition to the original composition, so we won’t give him too much trouble for his rehashing of Tagore here. Note that the Bengali original that I have linked to here is sung by Kishore Kumar, another Hindi playback singer who was famous for his renditions of Rabindra-sangeet in Bengal.

Amitabh and Jaya Bacchan sing the duet “tere mere milan kii yeh raina” on stage during the climax of Abhimaan (1973).

Although S.D. Burman was often inspired by Tagore in his compositions, he never recorded or sang a single piece of Rabindra-sangeet throughout his career. The reason behind this is, of course, family feuding–an unavoidable staple of all things related to Indian culture. Here’s the story: S.D Burman’s father Nabadwip Chandra Dev Burman was set to be the direct heir to the throne of Tripura when the current king passed away in 1862. However, the crown went to Nabadwip’s paternal uncle Birchandra Dev Burman due to some dirty palace politics. Because Rabindranath Tagore had a very close relationship with Birchandra Dev Burman, S.D. Burman avoided meeting Tagore throughout his lifetime and refused to perform Rabindra-sangeet out of principle. Nevertheless, in spite of this tiff, it is undeniable that S.D. Burman had a great deal of respect for Tagore as a musician given the influence of Rabindra-sangeet on his compositions.

–Mr. 55