Waqt Ne Kiya Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

For our next song, we discuss the lyrics and English translation of Waqt Ne Kiya, an evergreen song by Geeta Dutt from Kaaghaz Ke Phool (1957). Although nearly everyone has grown up watching movies, few people have an understanding of what the production of a film entails. I don’t mean just the technical aspects of constructing a shot—I refer to that way of life, to the tinsel-lined world of glamour and infamy, of triumph and ruin, and of the battle for self-respect that challenges a director. Guru Dutt’s final film, Kaaghaz Ke Phool (1957), is an intimate and haunting tragedy that shows the audience just that—a glimpse into the vanished studio era of 1950s Bollywood.

Waheeda Rehman pays a price for her fame in Kaaghaz Ke Phool (1957)

Following in the mesmerizing footsteps of Sunset Boulevard (1950) and The Blue Angel (Der blaue Engel, 1930), Kaaghaz Ke Phool reveals another side to the world of show business through the rise and spiraling downfall of a great director.  It examines the price of the soul of an artist, and is a harsh critique of contemporary values (even including the social condemnation of divorce!). In an ironic twist, the film was a flop at the box office when first released, leading to events in Guru Dutt’s personal life that mirrored the story of his own film. Eerily autobiographical, the film has now achieved a cult status in the history of Indian cinema.

The famous song “Waqt Ne Kiya” comes at a time in the film when the hero and the love of his life both come to an unspoken understanding that they must let each other go. As for the picturization, it is a cinematographer’s dream. Look at the lighting in these shots—at the rich blacks of the shadows, and how the dust from the overhead spotlights is captured floating ethereally in the air. The camera dollies in slowly to each character as they stare at one another and at their unfulfilled dreams enacting before them in the spotlight. There is actually very little movement by the actors—the real player is the camera itself, gracefully gliding through the empty set like a spectre of their own shattered hopes.

Enjoy the lyrics and full English translation of the masterpiece “Waqt Ne Kiya” below:

Waqt Ne Kiya Lyrics and Translation:

Waqt ne kiya kya hasee.N sitam
What a beautiful tragedy time has wrought
Tum rahe na tum
You are no longer you
Hum rahe na ham
I am no longer me
 
Beqaraar dil is tarha mile
Our restless hearts met in such a way
Jis tarha kabhi hum judaa na the
As though we were never apart
Tum bhi kho gaye
You became lost
Hum bhi kho gaye
I was lost too
Ek raah par chalke do qadam
As we walked a few footsteps on the same path
Waqt ne kiya…
 
Jaaye.Nge kahaa.N sujhta nahii.N
We cannot see where we are going
Chal paDe magar raastaa nahii.N
We set forward despite there being no path
Kya talaash hai
For what do we search?
Kuch pataa nahii.N
I do not know
Bun rahe hai.N dil khaab dam ba-dam
With every breath, my heart grows another dream
Waqt ne kiya…

Glossary:

Waqt= time, sitam= tragedy, torture; beqaraar= restless; tarha=manner judaa= apart; qadam= footsteps, talaash= search; dam ba-dam= with every breath

For anyone interested in gossip, the song is sung by Geeta Dutt—wife of none other than director and actor Guru Dutt himself. A major star on her own right, Geeta shot to fame at the age of sixteen when she wowed audiences with her uniquely rich and emotional voice (becoming S.D. Burman’s favorite!) But she too later suffered a personal tragedy from the well-known affair between her husband and his favorite actress, Waheeda Rehman—who actually lip-syncs “Waqt Ne Kiya” and plays the role of “the other woman” in the film! As I said, talk about life mimicking art. For more on Guru Dutt’s films, check out our earlier post on Pyaasa!

-Mrs. 55

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Making the Cut in Pakeezah: Behind-the-scenes of one of Bollywood’s most elaborate musicals

The ethereal Meena Kumari in Pakeezah (1971)

Few films have more behind-the-scenes gossip and excitement than Pakeezah (1971). If you know anything about classic Hindi film songs, you’ve probably heard some part of the Pakeezah soundtrack from director Kamal Amrohi’s 1971 legend. The film stars tragedy queen Meena Kumari as Pakeezah and gorgeous, gravely-voiced Raajkumar in a story of unforgiving traditional values that collide with the forbidden love of a pure-hearted courtesan. In an ironic twist, Pakeezah is revealed at the climax to be the hero’s long lost cousin, thus at last sanctioning their marriage (the ethical complexities of this kicker are a whole different issue.) But the movie itself is pure cinematic magic–Kamal Amrohi was notorious for his artistry and attention to detail. Pakeezah’s breath-taking production design, Ghulam Muhammed’s haunting semi-classical thumris, and the effortless poetry of the film’s dialogue is like entering one long, opium-induced dream.

But what was happening beneath the surface? A whole lot of drama.

Director Kamal Amrohi married Meena Kumari when she was 19 years old in 1952. They began filming Pakeezah within a few years–in fact, the song Inhi Logon Ne (raga Yaman) was filmed and edited before Amrohi switched to coloured film stock. The 1956 black-and-white version of the song was never used, but many of the shots are extremely similar to the final version. Notice how different young Lata’s voice sounds in this song compared to parts of the soundtrack recorded years later. Even more interestingly, Inhi Logon Ne was originally taken from the film Himmat (1941) in a version sung by none other than Shamshad Begum!

My favorite non-Lata song from the film is, Nazariyan Ki Maari, sung by 1930s playback singer Rajkumari Dubey. During production, when Naushad spotted Rajkumari singing in his chorus to make ends meet (and this is a woman who had been first female playback singer of India!), he reportedly caused an uproar and gave his former collaborator her own solo. This is why we love Naushad.

Pakeezah took over 14 years to complete, mainly because of the famously tumultuous relationship between Kamal and Meena (and her eventual alcoholism). Rumor has it that Meena was such a hot mess during the filming of Chalo Dildar Chalo, Amrohi cut her out and reworked the shot list so that her face is actually never seen in the song. Her condition became so bad that during the filming of the grueling emotional mujraa “Teer-e Nazar,” Meena Kumari collapsed. A body double, none other than filmi vamp Padma Khanna, was recruited to replace her! Meena Kumari personally trained her for the scene, and the song was filmed with the majority of the dancing done with an opaque chunni hiding Padma’s face! I would’ve killed to be a yes-man on that set and drink in all the gossip.

A very convenient camera angle…

Speaking of which, did you know the beautiful Mohammed Rafi-Lata Mangeshkar duet, Chalo Dildar Chalo (raga Pahadi), was actually also recorded as a female solo? Intended for use as a dancing number, the fascinating solo version was cut from both the film and record releases, although in my opinion, coupling the theme of romantic freedom in the lyrics with the close-up imagery of a ghungroo-bound Pakeezah could have been beautiful filmic irony. But it just didn’t make the cut.

And you know what else got cut from this film? I mean, literally, cut off. Turns out Meena Kumari was actually missing her left pinky from an accident that occurred around the time of her marriage! For a film that is so heavily focused on music and dancing, you can imagine that structuring every tiny shot and dance move to hide the left hand was tricky–but if you watch the film closely, Amrohi does a meticulous job of making sure her left hand stays hidden. And Meena Kumari’s right hand works such graceful magic, I dare you to find a prettier dancer with all 10 fingers.

For more information on the classic film, check out our page dedicated to the immortal dialogue from Pakeezah and the songs from Pakeezah!

– Mrs. 55