Tere Mere Milan Ki Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

Posted on April 2, 2014 by mrandmrs55

In the famous climax of Abhimaan (1973), Jaya Bhaduri and Amitabh Bachhan reunite on-stage for an emotional rendition of “Tere Mere Milan Ki.”

Today we showcase the lyrics and full English translation of “Tere Mere Milan Ki” from the 1973 hit film Abhimaan. Based loosely on the life of famous playback singer Kishore Kumar and his first wife, Ruma Ghosh, the film centers around a talented newlywed couple whose marriage is threatened by professional jealousy. When high-rolling pop singer Amitabh Bacchan marries innocent country girl Jaya Bhaduri, her newly-discovered musical prowess steals his limelight with alarming disharmony.

The show-stopping number “Tere Mere Milan Ki” is a song of reconciliation in the film’s finale. Flowing with tenderness and hope, the enchanting duet gives Amitabh Bacchan and Jaya Bhaduri another chance to love each other. Is their marriage worth saving? Read more about the film’s story and behind-the-scenes gossip in our earlier review of Abhimaan!

Amitabh Bachhan humbly begins his performance alone and ashamed in Abhimaan (1973).

Rightfully earning S.D. Burman the 1973 Filmfare Award for Best Music Director, “Tere Mere Milan Ki” is a classic example of Rabindra-sangeet in Bollywood. The song dazzles with Majrooh Sultanpuri’s poetic nuances, a metaphorical glimpse into the creation of a family. He describes the lover’s eyes as “chanchal,” which can mean playful, but also implies something that does not remain in one spot, a certain liveliness in spirit. With every “dekho na,” he directs that gaze back toward the night of their union, while she looks toward what lies ahead and the family they will begin together.

Jaya Bhaduri mourns her miscarried child backstage of her husband’s performance in Abhimaan (1973).

For me, this song has always glowed. Lata Mangeshkar’s voice resonates after the opening stanza like an angel descending from heaven. But it was only after seeing the film that I realized the heroine of the story had recently suffered a miscarriage. Thus the lines “nanhaa sa gul khilegaa a.Nganaa” are more than a hope for the future, but a true reflection of their family’s dream deferred. The entire song changed its meaning for me, and became if possible, even more poignant.

We hope you enjoy our English translation and lyrics to “Tere Mere Milan Ki” from Abhimaan (1973) below! Follow along with the video here.

Tere Mere Milan Ki Yeh Raina Lyrics and Translation:

Male:
Tere mere milan kii yeh rainaa
On the night of your and my union
Nayaa koi gul khilaayegi
A new rose will bloom
Tabhi to chanchal hai tere naina
That is why your eyes are playful
Dekho na! Dekho na, tere mere milan kii yeh rainaa
Look! Look at the night of your and my union

Female:
Nanha sa gul khilegaa a.Nganaa
A small rose will bloom upon our balcony
Suunii baiyaa sajegii, sajnaa
She will decorate my lonely arms, beloved
Male:
Jaise khele chandaa baadal mei.N
Just as the moon plays with the clouds
Khelegaa woh tere aa.Nchal mei.N
She will play in the folds of your saari
Female:
Chandaniyaa gungunaayegi
The rays of the moon will sing
Tabhi to chanchal hai tere naina
That is why your eyes are playful
Dekho na! Dekho na, tere mere milan kii yeh rainaa
Look! Look at the night of your and my union

Male:
Tujhe thaame kaii hatho.N se
I will hold your hand many times
Miluu.Nga madbharii raato.N mei.N
I will meet you many intoxicating nights
Female:
Jagaake aansuunii si dhaDkan
By awakening this unfamiliar heartbeat
Balamwaa, bhar duu.Ngii teraa man
My beloved, I will fill your soul
Male:
Nayii adaa se sataayegii
With a new style you will torment me
Tabhi to chanchal hai tere naina
That is why your eyes are playful
Dekho na! Dekho na, tere mere milan kii yeh rainaa
Look! Look at the night of your and my union

Both:
Nayaa koi gul khilaayegi
A new rose will bloom
Tabhi to chanchal hai tere naina
That is why your eyes are playful
Dekho na! Dekho na, tere mere milan kii yeh rainaa
Look! Look at the night of your and my union

Glossary:

milan: meeting, union; rainaa: night; gul: rose; tabhi: this is why, hence; chanchal: restless, playful; nainaa: eyes; nanhaa: little, tiny; a.Nganaa: balcony; suunii: lonely; baiyaa: arms; sajnaa [verb]: to decorate; sajnaa [noun]: darling, beloved; chandaa: moon; baadal: clouds; aa.Nchal: the end of a saari (pallu) or dupatta; chandan: silver, rays of the moon; gungunaanaa: to hum, to sing; haath thaamnaa: to hold hands; madbharii: filled with intoxication; jagaanaa: to wake up; aansuunii: unfamiliar, unheard; dhaDkan: heartbeat; balamwaa: lover; man: soul, heart; adaa: style; sataanaa: to torment

Amitabh comforts Jaya tere mere milan abhiman

Art mimics life as Amitabh Bachhan comforts Jaya Bhaduri in “Tere Mere Milan Ki” from Abhimaan (1973).

This lovely Lata-Kishore duet was requested by fan Dilip! Thank you for the beautiful request! For more songs from Abhimaan, check out our earlier post on the lovely Rafi-Lata duet “Teri Bindiya Re.”

– Mrs. 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).

Perpetuating Gender Norms in Abhiman

Posted on May 5, 2012 by mrandmrs55

Art mimics life in Abhiman (1973) starring Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bhaduri

Everyone loves a bit of filmi gossip. I have been meaning to watch the film Abhiman (1973) ever since I discovered sometime in elementary school that Amitabh Bachchan was actually married (and now an old man) and to none other than Jaya Bhaduri. Like other Bollywood classics that are spicily known to mimic life itself, such as Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959) or Silsila (1981), Abhiman too has a wealth of behind-the-scenes parallels.

The film tells the story of a husband and wife singing duo—and the rift that forms between them as her career far overshadows his. Before I discuss the gender stereotypes that run rampant in this film, did you know that Abhiman is rumored to be based upon real-life singer Kishore Kumar’s relationship with his first wife Ruma Guha Thakurta? Given that Kishore sings half the songs of this film, it gets pretty juicy. Ruma was a hugely successful Bengali singer and actress (not to mention the niece of legendary filmmaker Satyajit Ray!) whose career was soaring during the time of their marriage. Ruma’s songs were super hits in the Bengali industry and she acted in more than 100 films, starting as a child actress. Kishore and Ruma married in 1951, had a son together Amit Kumar (who was a reasonably successful playback singer himself in the 80s), but the two divorced in 1958. In fact, Kishore proposed to his next wife Madhubala while still married to Ruma. Don’t you just love it?

Kishore Kumar with his first wife Ruma Guha Thakurta and their son Amit Kumar (circa 1953).

The gossip gets even better. After filming Abhiman, Jaya Bhaduri edged out of the acting industry to play housewife while Amitabh continued to make some of his greatest hits—the reason? At the time, people strongly suspected it was in order to prevent art mimicking real life! She was afraid of her own marriage suffering the fate of the marriage they had portrayed together on screen. Whether that’s completely true or not, we certainly don’t know—but their rocky relationship (and Amitabh’s later affair with Rekha) was certainly a hot subject of tabloids for years.

Furthermore, Jaya actually went to Lata Mangeshkar studio recordings for research for her character. In the film she mimics how Lata used to hold her saarii and stand on stage. You might even go so far as to say that this film represents what might have happened to Lata Mangeshkar herself had she married! Ah, the drama.

As far as the movie goes, beyond pure gossip value and an amazing soundtrack, Abhiman doesn’t do much but make your blood boil in one long heteronormative manifesto.

Jaya Bhaduri plays a rising singer in Abhiman (1973)

Amitabh can only be happy when he is the bread-winner and when praise of his wife reflects a praise of his decision to marry her. But when Jaya is recognized as an individual talent, he is unable to bear the competition—she’s a better singer, brings in better money, and let’s face it, better looking. So naturally, being a modern man, he turns to alcohol and the company of other women. Meanwhile, the pure-hearted wife stays a social recluse in her husband’s house, yearning for his return.

Amitabh Bachchan plays a jealous husband in Abhiman (1973)

The film takes an interesting twist—Jaya miscarriages and Bollywood simplifies this emotional tragedy by turning Jaya into a living statue whose only hope for recovery will be to hear her husband sing again. After all, that was her only wish in life, right? Amitabh even goes so far as to suggest electric shock therapy for her. I almost died.

The film’s overt “male gaze” turns Jaya into unintelligent object of curiosity and manipulation–a far cry from that vibrant and talented woman who once threatened her husband’s social sphere. There’s something disturbing about this message, but hey, what do I know. If you’re looking for a far more realistic portrayal of a similar situation, check out Judy Garland’s performance in A Star Is Born (1954), but otherwise enjoy S.D. Burman’s sublime soundtrack without tainting it with what Abhiman will attempt to pass off as completely normal gender expectations of the period.

– Mrs. 55

Jaya Bhaduri and Amitabh Bachchan struggle to save their marriage in Abhiman (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