Three Hindi songs have been chasing me like particularly playful Indian street puppies for the past few hours. (I know this is a poorly mixed metaphor but that is precisely how the image formed in my mind. And who am I to shoo away a metaphor merely because it came to me as street puppies?—Another bad one.)
Anyhow, as I was saying, these three songs popped up in my mind randomly, a few hours apart from each other. There came a time when it became impossible to decide which one I should sing to myself. So this morning I did what I always do when confronted with songs that refuse to leave me alone. I went to YouTube and Google Music India to find out some more about the songs. One was pleasantly surprised to discover that they all came from the same movie—Hum Sab Ustaad Hein (1965), composed by Laxmikant Pyarelal.
The songs are ‘Ajnabi tum jaane pehchane se lagte ho’ (Hey stranger, you seem familiar), ‘Suno jaana suno jaana mere pehloo se mat jaana’ (Listen darling, don’t leave my side) and ‘Pyaar bantate chalo’ (Keep sharing love), all written by Asad Bhopali. Some of the lyrics are admittedly cheesy but they work in the context in which they were written. It is striking how in “Suno jaana” Bhopali jumps from something utterly romantic in the first line to something utterly macabre in the next where he writes “Agar jaana to yun jaana, Juda sar tan se kar jaana (And if you ever leave, do so after beheading me).
I understand that the idea of “Juda sar tan se kar jana” is not to be taken literally but understood in terms of the intense anguish of his separation from her. Quite hilariously though, the “her” in this case is actor Sheikh Mukhtar in drag whom the character of a Parsi man, played by Kishore Kumar, is trying to woo. When Kishore Kumar says the line “Juda sar tan se” he even makes the sign as if slitting his throat. The scene makes beheading sound like great fun and something everybody should try at least once.
Laxmikant Pyarelal’s compositions are thoroughly modern for the times and his choice of instruments-- the saxophone, the drums, the bass guitar, the piano—enhances the final impact. One is particularly struck by the interlude in ‘Ajanabi’ after Kishore Kumar begins the song. It has such a modern groove to it. If I ever make a thriller, I would happily buy the rights to this song just to use that interlude.
For now, I like ‘Pyar bantate chalo” the most simply because of its uncomplicated ambition of sharing and spreading love irrespective of everything, not to mention its excellent composition. The song is partly set aboard a train, giving it an underlying rhythm that the composers use effectively. Empty your mind of cynicism for a bit and hear this song. I am pretty sure you would get up and shake a leg or two. See the video below.
Some day I would like to write a book about how Hindi cinema lyricists of the 1950s and 1960s so successfully infused the philosophy of easy multiculturalism in the popular discourse.
