Fans of vintage Hindi films are intimately familiar with the theme of female ornamentation, which is expressed beautifully through song lyrics from this period of cinema. Countless songs from the Golden Era describe the charms of a woman’s kajraa (kohl), gajraa (flower garland), jhumkaa (earring), bi.ndii (beauty spot), ka.nganaa (bangle), and so on. In addition to these words, another common term that you might encounter in this genre of songs is solaah si.ngaar, which literally means “sixteen embellishments.” 

Meena Kumari is beautifully adorned as a sensitive courtesan in the classic film Pakeezah (1972).

The most famous example of this phrase occurs in a song from the eternally beautiful film Pakeezah. In “ThaaDe rahiiyo, o baa.nke yaar,” Lata Mangeshkar, on Meena Kumari, sings:

mai.n to kar aauu.n solaah si.ngaar / (I will come, adorned with the sixteen embellishments)
ThaaDe rahiiyo, o baa.nke yaar / (Keep waiting, oh beautiful lover) 

The term solaah si.ngaar refers to sixteen ways in which brides of ancient India adorned themselves before meeting their groom. Although sources conflict over the inclusion of certain ornaments, I am presenting a list of the most commonly accepted beautification aids associated with solaah si.ngaar below. 

1. bi.ndii, a beauty spot adorning the forehead. 

2. si.nduur, a sacred mark of vermillion lining the parting of a bride’s hair. si.nduur is still applied as a sign of marriage by modern Indian women. 

3. maa.ng tiikaa, a gold pendant that hangs over the bride’s forehead. 

4. a.njanaa or kaajal, the decoration of  the bride’s eyes using kohl. 

5. naath, a hoop-shaped nose ring.

6. haar, intricate necklaces made of gold and precious stones. The most auspicious necklace offered to the bride during a Hindu wedding is the mangalsutra, which symbolizes the inseparable bond between husband and wife. 

Mangalsutras often contain a gold pendant on a chain of black beads as shown here.

7. karan phuul, large earrings that cover the bride’s entire ear. 

8. maha.ndii, henna designs drawn on the bride’s hands and feet. 

9. chuuDii, sets of bangles adorning the bride’s wrists. 

10. baajuba.nd, armlets adorning the bride’s upper arms. 

11. aarsii, a flat jeweled mirror worn as a ring. Supposedly, it was used by brides to check their appearance and possibly sneak a look at their grooms before the official unveiling! 

12. keshaa-pashaa-rachnaa, the styling of the bride’s hair in traditional patterns and adornment of the hair with jewelry and gajraa (flower garlands). 

13. kamarba.nd, a waist band made of gold and precious gems. The etymologists among our readers might notice the uncanny similarity of this word to cummerbund, the broad waist sash worn by men with tuxedos.  

14. paayal, a chain adorned with small bells, often made of silver, worn around the ankle. 

15. itar, fragrant oils and perfumes to keep the bride smelling fresh throughout the ceremony. 

16. saarii/laha.ngaa, the bridal dress. Popular colors include red, green, and gold. 

In Utsav (1984), Rekha is bedecked with many of the common ornaments that constitute solaah si.ngaar: maa.ng tiikaa, kaajal, maa.ng tiikaa, naath, haar, karan phuul, chuuDii, baajuba.nd, and kamarba.nd.  

As you can see, solaah si.ngaar takes make-up to a whole new level of complexity and depth! Thankfully, modern Indian brides aren’t expected to keep up most of these practices past their wedding day in order to please their husbands. We can only imagine how much time and effort brides in ancient India must have spent on perfecting their appearances through this elaborate regimen of beautification.

This post was inspired by a question about solaah si.ngaar by one of our readers paasha. If you have any more burning questions about vintage Hindi cinema, feel free to shoot us a line–we’ll do our best to solve your Bollywood mystery! Until next time…

-Mr. 55

Raj Kapoor and Nargis huddle together on a love-boat in Awaara (1951).

Our next lyrics and English translation is of the great love duet “Dum Bhar Jo Udhar” from the film Awaara (1951). It’s practically impossible to not love this song. Raj Kapoor plays an underworld criminal who falls for the wealthy ward of a rich judge played by his favorite leading lady Nargis. The film launched both of their careers to mega-stardom and for good reason. Packed with musical gems like the evergreen “Awaara Hoon” or “Ghar Aaya Mera Pardesi,” the film is a scathing social drama that weaves Raj Kapoor’s own respectable father, Prithviraj Kapoor, into the heart of its scandalous and surprising twist. The film was so well-received and brilliantly made that it was nominated for a Grand Prize at the Cannes Film Festival in 1953! Propelled by a tempting bad-boy with a tragic past storyline, the film arguably contains the greatest performance of Raj Kapoor’s career. Awaara is a historical and artistic must-see!

“Dum Bhar Jo Udhar” is a Mukesh-Lata duet sung on a small boat in the middle of the night. Shailendra’s lyrics embody a theme common in Hindi films, which emphasizes the shyness of the woman and the boldness of the man. Both man and woman address the only other witness to their tryst–the beautiful moon above. However, the woman begs the moon to look away and not make her feel shy, while the man eagerly urges the moon to shine upon him and witness their love blossom. The importance of moon imagery in Urdu-Hindi poetry is legend–most often taking the form of a feminine metaphor that epitomizes beauty. In this case, however, the playful moon evokes the male gaze as a trusty ally to the hero and a source of embarrassment to the heroine. It’s so adorable I could squirm.

The eternally lovely Nargis glows in the moonlight in Awaara (1951).

Here are the full lyrics and English translation to “Dum Bhar jo Udhar” from Awaara (1951). Enjoy our interpretation of the song’s meaning and follow along on youtube with this link!

Dam Bhar Jo Udhar Lyrics and Translation

Lata:

Dam bhar jo udhar muu.N phere, O Chandaa
O Moon, if you would turn your face away for one moment
Mai.N unse pyaar kar luu.Ngii
I will make love to him
Baate.N hazaar kar luu.Ngii
I will say a thousand things to him

Dil kartaa hai pyaar ke sajade
My heart has prayed for such love
Aur mai.N bhii unke saath
And now I am with him
Chaand ko chandaa roz hii dekhe
The moon sees moonlight every day
Merii pehlii raat, ho, merii pehlii raat
But this is my first night, oh, this is my first night!
Baadal mei.N ab chhup jaa re! O Chandaa
Now go hide in the clouds, O Moon!
Mai.N unse pyaar kar luu.Ngii
For I will make love to him
Baate.N hazaar kar luu.Ngii
I will say a thousand things to him

Mukesh:

Dam bhar jo idhar muu.N phere, O Chandaa
O Moon, if you would turn your face here for one moment
Mai.N unse pyaar kar luu.Ngaa
I will make love to her
Nazare.N do-chaar kar luu.Ngaa
I will steal a few glances from her

Mai.N chor hoo.N kaam hai chorii
I am a thief, and my job is to steal
Duniyaa mei.N hoo.N badnaam
I am dishonored in society
Dil ko churaataa aayaa hoo.N mai.N
I have some to steal your heart
Yehii meraa kaam, ho, yehii meraa kaam
This alone is my job
Aanaa tuu gavaahi dene, O Chandaa
You must come and be a witness, O Moon
Mai.N unse pyaar kar luu.Ngaa
For I will make love to her
Nazare.N do chaar kar luu.Ngaa
I will steal a few glances from her

Lata:

Dil ko churaake kho mat jaanaa
Do not steal my heart and become lost
Raah na jaanaa bhool
Do not forget your way back to me
In qadmo.n se kuchal na denaa
Do not crush with your footsteps
Mere dil kaa phool, ho, mere dil kaa phool
The flower of my heart, oh, the flower of my heart!
Yeh baat unhe.N samjhaa de, O Chanda
You make him understand this, O Moon
Mai.N unse pyaar kar luu.Ngii
I will make love to him
Baate.N hazaar kar luu.Ngii
I will say a thousand things to him

Glossary:

dam bhar: one full moment; udhar: in that direction; muu.N: face; pherna: to turn; hazaar: a thousand; pehlii; first; baadal: clouds; idhar: in this direction, here; do-chaar: a few; badnaam: a person of ill-repute; gavaahi denaa: to serve as witness; raah: path, way; qadam: footsteps; kuchal dena: to crush; phool: flower; samjhaa denaa: to make [someone] understand

Now before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, let’s just talk briefly about the phrase “Mai.N unse pyaar kar luu.Ngii” and what that really means. I have translated it somewhat literally for simplicity’s sake as “I will make love to him,” but that phrase in English carries with it more physical connotations than what it means in this context. Although the verb “pyaar karna” means simply “to love” as in the general English sense, the way it is used in this song carries a more immediate sense of both action and personal gain–by adding the coloring verb “lena” (“to take”), the phrase now implies that the girl is about to do something for her own benefit. We can safely say that these lyrics are not a prelude to actual Victorian “love-making” on that rocky boat of theirs, but rather an expression of desire and courtship. When she says, “Mai.N unse pyaar kar luu.Ngii,” this means no more than whispering sweet nothings, holding hands, stealing glances, and other forms of expressing tenderness and passion short of actually “making love.” See my point? And don’t let Nargis’ pole dancing throw you off.

Yeah, no seriously I wasn’t kidding. Nargis takes the phrase “pole-dance” to a whole new level in Awaara (1951).

You know what’s really great about this movie? The fact that ages before women were given anything close to social equality, Nargis plays a powerful lawyer who ends up bringing justice to her lover Raj Kapoor. She stands strong in a court filled with men, and really makes us all proud. Granted, she’s really rich and let’s Raj Kapoor SLAP her in a different scene (kill me now), but we can appreciate what she stood for at least in that regard. It’s one of the best courtroom scenes of the industry! This song was requested by die-hard fan lalten–hope you enjoyed!

- Mrs. 55

Rekha stars as a courtesan and poetess in Umrao Jaan (1981), based on an Urdu novel by Mirza Muhammad Hadi Ruswa

Today, we continue our series on Umrao Jaan (1981) by providing the lyrics and English translation to what is arguably the film’s most popular song: dil chiiz kyaa hai?  Based on Mirza Muhammad Hadi Ruswa’s novel Umrao Jaan Ada, this film narrates the tragic tale of a young girl who is kidnapped and forced to become a tawaif (courtesan).

Through the course of this film, we witness the transformation of an innocent young girl Amiran as she becomes Umrao Jaan Ada, one of Lucknow’s most sought after courtesans. At the brothel, young Amiran receives training in classical voice, Kathak dance, and Urdu poetry–a forbidden world of art and education that the average Indian girl of this time period would never get the chance to explore. When the brothel’s madam Khanum feels that she has been sufficiently groomed, Umrao Jaan begins performing and attracting the attention of wealthy patrons all over Lucknow. Umrao’s first public performance as a courtesan is marked by the song dil chiiz kyaa hai?

This gem is considered to be one of Asha Bhonsle’s career-defining songs, and she was awarded a National Film Award for her performance of this ghazal along with the rest of her contributions to this soundtrack. Khayyam bagged a well-deserved National Film Award for his compositions in this film, and Rekha took home the National Film Award for Best Actress. From her performance in this mujra in particular, it is clear that Rekha is worthy of all the critical acclaim she received for her work in Umrao Jaan.  Although she may lack the technical precision of a trained Kathak dancer, she compensates with her compelling on-screen presence and natural elegance. With eyes like hers, would any man in Lucknow be able to resist the charms of Umrao Jaan Ada?

What is your favorite song from the Umrao Jaan soundtrack? Share with us in the comments! Until next time…

-Mr. 55

Rekha’s mujras in this film, especially dil chiiz kyaa hai?, are fan-favorites to this day.

Dil Cheez Kya Hai: Lyrics and Translation

dil chiiz kyaa hai? aap merii jaan liijiye
What is the heart worth? Take my life instead!
bas ek baar meraa kahaa maan lijiye
But just once, please accept what I say.

is a.njuman me.n aap ko aanaa hai baar baar
You must return to this gathering time and time again.
diivaar-o-dar ko ghaur se pahchaan liijiye
So, learn to recognize these surroundings carefully.

maanaa ki dosto.n ko nahii.n dostii kaa paas
I admit that friends may not always hold friendship in high regard.
lekin yah kyaa ki ghair kaa ahsaan liijiye?
Yet, does this mean you should accept kindness from strangers?

kahiye to aasmaa.n ko zamii.n par utaar laaye.n
If you ask for it, I shall bring down the sky to the ground. 
mushkil nahii.n hai kuchh bhii agar Thaan liijiye
No task is difficult if you pursue it firmly.

dil chiiz kyaa hai? aap merii jaan liijiye
What is the heart worth? Take my life instead!
bas ek baar meraa kahaa maan liijiye
But just once, please accept what I say.

Glossary

maan lenaa: to accept; anjuuman: gathering; diivaar-o-dar: walls and doors, surroundings; ghaur se: carefully; pahchaan lenaa: to recognize; dostii: friendship; paas: regard, consideration; ghair: stranger; ahsaan: favor, kindness; utaar laanaa: to bring down; Thaan lenaa: to pursue firmly.

A quick note regarding the word paas. Those of you familiar with its common use in the phrase kisii ke paas (next to someone/something) may be confused by the line “maana ki dosto.n ko nahii.n dostii kaa paas.” Here, a less common use of the word paas is used to mean regard or consideration. So, there is no relation to proximity here; the whole line would be translated as: “I admit that that friends may not always hold friendship in high regard.” Tricky, tricky.

As Umrao Jaan, Rekha seduces wealthy men in Lucknow with her most tempting asset: her eyes!

Madhubala, classic Bollywood actress, (1933-1969)

Madhubala was born Mumtaz Jahan Nehlavi on Valentine’s Day, February 14, 1933. Perhaps was no coincidence with such a birthday that Madhubala would grow up to become one of the most beloved romantic heroines of India. But her life could not share the happy endings of many of her films. This month, Madhubala would have turned 80 years old. Her premature death has likened Madhubala to iconic Hollywood greats like Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Carol Lombard and even Bollywood’s own Meena Kumari–women of the silver screen who died before the world was ready.

Madhubala’s unique allure was known worldwide–she had been featured in many American magazines including LIFE magazine whose rare photographs are featured in this post. Legendary director Frank Capra was eager to bring the mysterious Indian beauty to Hollywood and launch an international career–but his efforts were halted quickly by Madhubala’s conservative father. She was sought after by every great Bollywood director and actor from Dilip Kumar to Dev Anand and even romanced and married playback singer Kishore Kumar at the height of her illustrious career. For years, Madhubala was the Queen of Bollywood and the hearts of millions.

But what killed Madhubala, ending her short-lived reign? Could it have been prevented?

Indian actress Madhubala as photographed by James Burke for LIFE magazine in 1951.

When Madhubala was born to a traditional Muslim family in Delhi, her elder sister Madhur Bhushan recalled that the baby was “blue”–a serious sign of cyanosis and poor oxygen perfusion. Madhubala had a Ventricular Septal Defect (VSD), a disorder colloquially referred to as a “hole in the heart.” A congenital abnormality of that kind allowed for mixing of both normal oxygenated blood and deoxygenated blood to be shunted through her body–an unhealthy adulteration with a bad prognosis. While a somewhat common birth defect (1 in 500 babies are born with a VSD), the medical community’s understanding of  the condition was in its infancy–VSD had first been described in 1879 and at the time of Madhubala birth, there was no treatment. Yet Madhubala continued to grow into a vivacious and beautiful young woman whose fragility was for many years known only to a few.

The young beauty shot to fame in 1949 at the age of 16 in Kamal Amrohi’s Mahal with Bollywood veteran Ashok Kumar. One success followed another, establishing Madhubala as an A-grade star with a rare versatility and ebullience that hid her growing fatigue and weakness. In was not until filming scenes for Bahut Din Hue in 1954, Madhubala vomited blood on the set. It was an ominous sign that electrified the Indian media. The history of her heart defect came to public light as the mid-1950s brought her a string of failures, earning her the label “box office poison.” With skyrocketing notoriety, no longer was Madhubala’s illness a family secret.

The lovely Madhubala in an unscripted moment in her room in Bombay.

Little did her family know, in the same year on the other side of the world at the University of Minnesota, Dr. Walt Lillehei was about to make medical history. After years of research in the field, on the morning of March 26, 1954, Lillehei performed the first surgical closure on a child with VSD. The surgery was a success that brought hope to thousands of families whose children were otherwise not expected to live past their 30th birthday.

Meanwhile in Bombay, Madhubala’s career revived and reached dazzling heights with smash hits like Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi (1958), Barsaat Ki Raat (1960) and the pinnacle of her career, Mughal-e Azam (1961). However, as Madhubala neared her 30th birthday, the grueling filming of historical epic Mughal-e Azam was to take a toll on the young actress’ health that is speculated to have hurried her demise.

Madhubala died on February 23, 1969 at the age of 36.

During the filming of the famous song, “Bekas pe karam kijiye,” Madhubala’s performance turned art into life. The scene was of defiant courtesan Anarkali chained in the palace prison, singing for mercy. Director K. Asif actually made Madhubala perform in heavy, burdensome metal chains that weighed the actress down and cut into her skin. Her exhaustion and despair that you can see in the song are real–for a patient with VSD, such an amount of physical exertion truly mimicked the torture of her Mughal character. It became clear that her only hope lay in the the rumors of a surgical cure with the techniques recently pioneered by Dr. Lillehei.

In 1960, the actress sought treatment in London, but physicians refused to operate. Although Lillehei’s surgery had worked in children, physicians across the West had not perfected the technique in adults, and the first heart transplant in a human adult would not be performed for 7 more years. It was with a heavy spirit that Madhubala returned home to Bombay where she realized her career as an actress was over. She sought instead to enter film as a director, setting the stage to make tremendous strides for women in her directorial debut of the film Farz Aur Ishq. However, while the project was still in pre-production, Madhubala–the immortal woman with a mischievous smile and a mystical aura–succumbed to her illness at the age of 36. Tragically, within a few short years of her death, operations that closed VSDs were made widely available to adults. The history of heart surgery and Madhubala’s life crossed paths at a critical corner, but for a matter of time, never made that life-saving collision.

The enigmatic beauty of Madhubala captures audiences generations after her death.

Perhaps if Madhubala had been born just a few years later or if Dr. Lillehei had begun his famous experiments just a few years earlier, Madhubala would have lived to see a surgery that would have allowed her to celebrate her 80th birthday today with us. Perhaps it was Madhubala’s early death itself that has immortalized her as a forever beautiful, forever carefree young woman who will remain always elusive. That ethereal woman haunting the mansion of Mahal (1949) or glittering in jewels of Mughal-e Azam (1961) is now only a shadow in our memories who vanished before time could transform her. In the words of her famous character from Mahal in which she starred at the age of 16:

“Mai.N vehm nahii.N hoo.N, haqeeqat.” ["I am not an apparition, I am reality."]

For fans of Madhubala all over, her words proved true only for a short while.

- Mrs. 55

Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of knowledge and music, is worshipped each year on Basant Panchami.

Basant Panchami is a Hindu festival that celebrates the arrival of Spring through the worship of Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge and music. On this day, Ma Saraswati is worshipped with great fervor and devotion, especially by students in educational institutions across India.  In addition, many young children are given their first lesson in writing on this holiday through a ritual called haathe-korii. Since this auspicious holiday is coming up in just a few days on Friday, we are presenting the lyrics and English translation to one of Bollywood’s  only homages to goddess Saraswati: maataa sarasvatii shardaa from Alaap (1977).

As many of you probably know, bhajans dedicated to Saraswati are a rare commodity in the arena of Bollywood cinema. The majority of the film industry’s references to Hinduism focus on Vishnu in the form of Krishna and his consort Radha. What is the reason behind Bollywood’s obsession with Radha and Krishna? The most obvious answer is that the love stories presented in Hindi films lend themselves easily to comparisons to the romance shared between these two figures of Hinduism. Bollywood heroes can identify with flirtatious Krishna who uses his charm to seduce Radha whose delicate coyness resembles that of Bollywood heroines.  An austere deity like Saraswati, symbolizing wisdom and education, finds little glamor in an industry that is driven primarily by themes based on love and romance. 

In what context does Saraswati receive prominence in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Alaap (1977)? Tuned by Jaidev in Raga Bhairavi, a version of this bhajan sung by Yesudas, Madhurani, and Dilraj Kaur opens the film as Amitabh Bachhan prays to Saraswati for her blessings at the music school where he studies classical vocal. This bhajan also concludes the film when a version sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Dilraj Kaur is reprised on Rekha singing along with her son for her husband Amitabh who has contracted a severe case of tuberculosis.  The homage to Saraswati is fitting in Alaap because the film’s plot is driven in part by music. In Alaap, Amitabh Bachhan desires to become a classically trained vocalist against the wishes of his conservative father Om Prakash who refuses to accept music as a legitimate profession. He pressures Amitabh to become a lawyer like himself and the ensuing resentment leads to a bitter conflict between father and son that culminates in a tragic conclusion.

As the holiday of Basant Panchami approaches with its celebration of learning and new beginnings, we hope that you enjoy this beautiful bhajan and our English translation provided below. May Ma Saraswati bless all of us in our academic and musical pursuits during the upcoming year. Until next time…

-Mr. 55

P.S. This non-filmi Saraswati Vandana recorded by Lata is also divinely enchanting: yaa kundendu tushaar haar dhavalaa. 

Amitabh Bacchan looks pious in white during prayers to Ma Saraswati in a music school in Alaap (1977)

Mata Saraswati Sharda: Lyrics and Translation

maataa sarasvatii sharadaa,
Mother Saraswati,
he maataa sarasvatii sharadaa!
Oh mother Saraswati!
vidyaadaanii dayaanii dukh-harinii
You are the giver of knowledge, the goddess of compassion, and the remover of sorrow.
jagatajananii jvaalaamukhii
You are the fire-mouthed mother of this world.
maataa sarasvatii sharadaa!
Mother Saraswati!

kiije sudrishTi
Please cast an auspicous glance upon us,
sevak jaan apnaa
and know us as your humble servants.
itnaa vardaan diije
Please grant us these boons:
taan, taal, aur aalaap
musical mastery of passagework, rhythm, and preludes.
buddhii ala.nkaar, sharadaa
Knowledge is your jewel, Saraswati.

he maataa sarasvatii shardaa!
Oh mother Saraswati!

Glossary

maataa: mother; sarasvatii: Hindu goddess of learning and music; sharadaa: another name for Saraswati; vidyaadaanii: giver of knowledge; dayaanii: goddess of compassion; dukh-harinii: remover of sorrow; jagatjananii: mother of the world; jvaalaamukhii: fire-mouthed; sudrishTii: auspicious glance; sevak: servant; vardaan: boon; taan: musical passagework; taal: rhythm; aalaap: prelude to a raag; buddhii: knowledge; ala.nkaar: jewel, ornamentation.

Rekha sings a reprise of this bhajan with her son for her ailing husband Amitabh in the conclusion of Alaap (1977)

Shashi Kapoor and Rakhee celebrate their wedding night with song in Kabhi Kabhi (1976).

Happy Valentine’s Day! In honor of the occasion, we present the lyrics and full English translation to one of the great love poems of Hindi films: “Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein” from the 1976 star-studded mega-hit Kabhi Kabhi.

Penned by that evergreen poet Sahir Ludhianvi, “Kabhi Kabhi” remains on top of any list of Bollywood love songs. The lyrics are written from the heart in adoration of a woman on a couple’s wedding night. The song is reflective and gentle, but bursting with a beautiful excitement of what lies ahead. Kabhi Kabhi revolves around the love affairs of the protagonists and their effects on the next generation. The ageless devotion expressed in this song continues to evolve and evoke new meanings as the film progresses from one revelation to the next.

An interesting aspect of this song is that it is sung from a male perspective by a female heroine (after all, the song was dedicated to her in the first place by Amitabh Bachchan!) Lines like “Suhaag raat hai, ghunghaT uTaa rahaa hoo.N mai.N” evoke tragic irony as Rakhee feels her veil lifted by a man she does not love. Similarly, the final line “Mai.N jaantaa huu.N ki tuu gher hai, magar yuu.N hii” can be interpreted as both as an understanding that husband and wife still must get to know one another, but also as Amitabh Bachhan accepting that Rakhee now belongs to someone else. And just further to wring your heart, blind-to-reality Shashi Kapoor insists to her that if they ever meet the great poet who wrote these words, they must thank him for being with them on their wedding night. (Naturally, they all do meet up somehow–and it’s every bit a circus you can imagine!)

Rakhee sings from the anthology of poems written by a former lover in Kabhi Kabhi (1976).

You don’t need to know or appreciate the background of this song to fall head over heels for its melody and blissful lyrics. So celebrate the love in your life and enjoy our English translation of “Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein” below!

Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein Lyrics and Translation:

Mukesh:

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mei.N khayaal aataa hai
Sometimes this thought enters my heart

Lata:

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mei.N khayaal aataa hai
Sometimes this thought enters my heart
Ki jaise tujhko banaayaa gaya hai mere liye
That you were created only for me
Tu ab se pehle sitaaro.n mei.N bas rahii thii kahii.N
Before now you lived somewhere among the stars
Tujhe zameen pe bulaayaa gayaa hai mere liye
You were called to earth only for me

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mei.N khayaal aataa hai
Sometimes this thought enters my heart
Ki yeh badan, yeh nigaahe.N merii amaanat hai.N
That this body and these eyes belong to me
Yeh gesuuo.N kii ghanii chaao.N hai.N merii khaatir
These dark shadows of your hair are for me alone
Yeh honTh aur yeh baahe.N meri amaanat hai.N
These lips and these arms belong to me

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mei.N khayaal aataa hai
Sometimes this thought enters my heart
Ki jaise bajatii hai shahanaaiiaa.N sii raaho.N mei.N
As if wedding music is being played in the streets

Mukesh:

Suhaag raat hai, ghunghaT uTaa rahaa huu.N mai.N
It is our wedding night, I am lifting your veil

Lata:

Suhaag raat hai, ghunghaT uTaa rahaa huu.N mai.N
It is our wedding night, I am lifting your veil
SimaT rahii hai tuu sharmaake apne baaho.N mei.N
You shyly blush as I wrap you in my arms

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mei.N khayaal aataa hai
Sometimes this thought enters my heart
Ki jaise tuu mujhe chaahegii umr bhar yuu.N hii
That you will love me forever like this
UThegii merii taraf pyaar kii nazar yuu.N hii
That you will always lift this loving gaze to me

Mukesh:

Mai.N jaantaa huu.N ki tuu gher hai magar yuu.N hii
I know you are still a stranger, however
Kabhi kabhi mere dil mei.N khayaal aataa hai
Sometimes this thought enters my heart

Glossary:

kabhi kabhi: sometimes, from time to time; khayaal: thought; sitaaraa: star; zameen: earth; badan: body; nigaahe.N: glances, eyes; amaanat: property; gesuu: hair; ghanii: dark; chaao.N: shadow; [kisii kii] khatir: [for someone's] sake; honTh; lips; baahe.N: arms; amaanat: belonging; shahanaaii: a wind instrument usually played at weddings; raah: path, streets; suhaag raat: wedding night; ghunghaT: veil; sharmaanaa: to become shy; umr bhar: whole life; [kisii kii] taraf: [in someone's] direction; gher: stranger

By the end of “Kabhi Kabhi”, the already awkward suhaag raat scene inevitably becomes more awkward.

This special Valentine’s day post is dedicated to my fiancé! It’s been two years since we’ve been together and I’ve loved every moment. Thank you for putting up with my singing old Lata songs outside my range while you’re trying to study, and for finally appreciating the epicness that is Mughal-e-Azam!

My adorable fiancé and I met at as undergrads at Harvard where he was in the class ahead of me. He proposed two years later, and now we’re busy planning the wedding!

- Mrs. 55

Sati Savitri (1964) portrays a Hindu myth about a wife’s unconditional devotion to her husband.

Today, we present the lyrics and English translation to a beautiful duet from Sati Savitri (1964): tum gagan ke cha.ndramaa ho. Directed by Shantilal Soni, Sati Savitri is a forgotten film in the Hindu devotional genre that narrates the love story of Savitri (played by Anjali Devi) and Satyavan (Mahipal). Savitri is celebrated in Hindu mythology as the ideal pativrata wife whose dedication to her husband allowed her to bring her husband back from Yama, the God of Death.

While the film itself has been forgotten, Laxmikant-Pyarelaal’s soundtrack for this movie is full of exquisite compositions that are still remembered today. Laxmikant and Pyarelaal had worked as assistants to the South Indian composer P. Adinarayana Rao on the music for Suvarna Sundari (1957). As the producer of Sati Savitri, P. Adinarayana Rao hired Laxmikant-Pyarelaal to compose the music for this film. In reverence of their former mentor, Laxmikant-Pyarelaal composed a classical soundtrack with several raga-based melodies. Aside from the lovely duet presented here, two stellar Lata solos from this film come to mind: jiivan Dor tumhii sang bandhii based in Yaman Kalyan and kabhii to miloge jiivan saathii based in Kalavati. 

The duet tum gagan ke cha.ndramaa ho is also rendered by Lata Mangeshkar and Manna De in raga Yaman Kalyan. In my opinion, no other playback singer renders Yaman Kalyan as gracefully as Lata does. Her prowess with this raga is matched here by Manna De, whose classical training set him apart from many of his male peers in the industry.

Apart from the beautiful melody and rendition, the lyrics of this duet are memorable for their use of chaste Hindi. Given the devotional Hindu story presented in this film, the use of Urdu poetry here would have seemed incongruous. Instead, lyricist Bharat Vyas has written a series of metaphors in pure Hindi where both Savitri and Satyavan use self-deprecating comparisons to describe themselves while using elevating comparisons to describe the other. In the mukhDaa, Savitri claims that she is the dust of the Earth whereas Satyavan is the Moon in the sky (tum gagan ke cha.ndramaa ho, mai.n dharaa kii dhuul huu.n). In response, Satyavan claims that he is merely the priest when Savitri is the prayer; he is thirst when Savitri is the nectar (tum ho puujaa mai.n pujaarii, tum sudhaa mai.n pyaas huu.n). This song certainly contains beautiful metaphors all around, but it is interesting to note that the poet decided to give the most self-deprecating line to the heroine: tum ho kaayaa mai.n huu.n chhayaa, tum kshamaa mai.n bhuul huu.n (You are the body, I am the shadow; you are forgiveness, I am the sin). Why are we not surprised?

You might have noticed that images from the film are missing from this post. Normally, when Mrs. 55 or I translate a song, we try to include images from the movie’s picturization of the song to go along with our entries. I tried searching for a long time, but I was unable to find any images or video clips of Sati Savitri on the internet (except for the film poster displayed above). If any of our readers have more information to share about this rare and forgotten film, we would love to hear about it! Until next time…

-Mr. 55

Tum Gagan Ke Chandrama Ho: Lyrics and Translation

tum gagan ke cha.ndramaa ho, mai.n dharaa kii dhuul huu.n
You are the Moon of the sky, while I am the dust of the Earth.
tum praNay ke devtaa ho, mai.n samarpit phuul huu.n
You are the God of love, while I am a devoted flower.
tum ho puujaa mai.n pujaarii, tum sudhaa mai.n pyaas huu.n
You are the prayer, I am the priest; you are nectar, I am thirst.

tum mahaasaagar kii siimaa, mai.n kinaare kii lahar
You are the boundary of the ocean, while I am a wave by the shore.
tum mahaasangiit ke svar, mai.n adhuurii saa.ns bhar
You are the notes of a profound melody, while I am an incomplete breath.
tum ho kaayaa mai.n huu.n chhayaa, tum kshamaa mai.n bhuul huu.n
You are the body, I am the shadow; you are forgiveness, I am the sin.

tum ushaa kii laalimaa ho, bhor kaa sinduur ho
You are the redness of daybreak, the vermillion of dawn.
mere praaNo.n kii ho gunjan, mere man kii mayuur ho
You are the humming of my spirit, the peacock of my mind. 
tum ho puujaa mai.n pujaarii, tum sudhaa mai.n pyaas huu.n
You are the prayer, I am the priest; you are nectar, I am thirst.

tum gagan ke chandramaa ho, mai.n dharaa kii dhuul huu.n
You are the Moon of the sky, while I am the dust of the Earth.

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

Glossary

gagan: sky; cha.ndramaa: Moon; dharaa: Earth; praNay: love; devta: god; samarpit: devoted; pujaarii: priest; sudhaa: nectar; mahaasaagar: ocean; siimaa: boundary, border; kinaaraa: shore; lahar: wave; svar: musical note; adhuurii: incomplete; kaayaa: body; kshamaa: forgiveness; bhuul: sin, mistake; ushaa: daybreak, dawn; sinduur: vermillion; praaN: spirit; gunjan: humming; mayuur: peacock.

Goan composer Anthony Gonsalves conducts Lata Mangeshkar and Manna De on stage in Bombay (1958). Laxmikant and Pyarelaal are seated toward the right.

Dilip Kumar is horrified to learn of his wife Bindu’s betrayal in Dastan (1972).

We now present the lyrics and English translation to the emotional Sahir Ludhianvi ghazal “Na Tu Zameen Ke Liye” from Dastan (1972). Sung by Mohammed Rafi as the hero Dilip Kumar reels from the shock of discovering an affair between his wife Bindu and best friend Prem Chopra, “Na Tu Zameen Ke Liye” is a sympathetic voice in a world of disloyalty.

The true magic of the song comes from the lyrics from the pen of Sahir Ludhianvi–but you may be surprised to learn that this song is not entirely original! With the ghazal “Na Tu Zameen Ke Liye” Ludhianvi draws from the beautiful Sir Muhammed Iqbal (1877-1938) poem of the same name and contains the portending line:

“Maqaam-e parvarish-e aah wa naalaa hai yeh chaman. Na sair-e gul ke liye hai, na aashiyaan ke liye.” [This garden is a place for you to sigh and see visions. It is neither for taking a leisurely stroll nor building a home."]

Similarly, Ludhianvi’s lyrics warns the hero of the dangers lurking beneath the surface of circumstances too good to be true. “Na Tu Zameen Ke Liye” is a gleaming lotus of poetry that is well-worth the wait of an otherwise rather lackluster film. Thematically, the song is reminiscent of Ludhianvi’s earlier tragic poems “Chalo Ek Baar Phir Se” and “Dekhi Zamane Ki Yaari” which both carry the heavy burden of deception. Thrown from that garden of love into a world of disorder, “Na Tu Zameen Ke Liye” seeks clarity in an hazy, unforgiving world.

With tears and heartbreak, Dilip Kumar realizes his marriage is a sham in Dastan (1972). But I mean, your wife was played by Bindu…anyone could’ve seen that coming a mile away…

Check out the video of Dilip Kumar’s despair and follow along with our English translation of Sahir Ludhianvi’s gem “Na Tu Zameen Ke Liye” below!

Na Tu Zameen Ke Liye Lyrics and Translation:

Na tuu zameen ke liye hai na aasmaan ke liye
You belong to neither the earth nor the sky
Teraa wajuud hai ab sirf dastaan ke liye
Your existence belongs only to a tale

PalaTke suu-e chaman dekhne se kya hogaa?
What can be gained by looking back toward the garden of love?
Woh shaakh hii na rahii jo thii aashiyaa.N ke liye
For that branch no longer exists, which once belonged to your nest
Na tuu zameen ke liye hai na aasmaan ke liye
You belong to neither the earth nor the sky

Garaz-parast jahaa.N mei.N, wafaa talaash na kar
In this self-centered world, do not search for faithfulness
Yeh shaii banii thii kisii duusre jahaa.N ke liye
For such a thing was designed for a world other than our own
Teraa wajuud hai ab sirf dastaan ke liye
Your existence belongs to only to a tale

Na tuu zameen ke liye hai na aasmaan ke liye
You belong to neither the earth nor the sky

Glossary:

zameen: earth; aasmaan: sky; waajuud: existence; dastaan: story, tale; palaTnaa: to turn around; soo-e chaman: direction of the garden–a reference to Amir Khusrau ghazal 248 describing an idyllic garden of young lovers; shaakh: branch; aashiaa.N: dream house, nest; garaz-parast: self-centered, selfish; jahaa.N: world; wafaa: faithfulness, loyalty; talaash: search; shaaii: thing, object

Getting teary-eyed? Calm down, there’s a happy ending to this dastaan. Sharmila Tagore adroitly steps in as the patient lover who soothes a haggard Dilip Kumar’s broken heart. Frankly, could any man ask for more?!

Sharmila Tagore selflessly hides her undying love for hero Dilip Kumar in Dastaan (1972).

This Sahir Ludhianvi ghazal was requested by loyal fan muskaan! Hope you enjoyed and keep those requests coming!

- Mrs. 55

Amitabh Bacchan plays a writer who falls for Rekha’s timeless beauty in Silsila (1981)

Directed and produced by Yash Chopra, Silsila (1981) sparked controversy even before it was released. Rumors regarding the film’s casting spread throughout the industry, as its portrayal of a love triangle between Amitabh Bacchan, his wife Jaya Bacchan, and his alleged mistress Rekha was said to mimic reality. Today, we present the lyrics and English translation of a classic romantic ballad from Silsila: niilaa aasmaa.n so gayaa.

This film depicts a passionate romance between Amit (played by Amitabh Bacchan) and Chandni (played by Rekha) that cannot culminate in marriage due to unfortunate circumstances. After his brother (played by Shashi Kapoor) is killed in the Indo-Pakistani War of 1971, Amit marries his brother’s pregnant fiancee in order to save her honor. Unable to pursue her love with Amit, Chandni marries Dr. Anand (played by Sanjeev Kumar). When Amit and Shobha are involved in a car accident (that causes Shobha to lose her baby), they are hospitalized and treated by Dr. Anand. Chandni sees Amit in the hospital, and this encounter triggers memories of their past love. Amit and Chandni give into their temptations and begin to rekindle their romance through clandestine meetings. The plot thickens when an evening rendezvous goes sour: Amit and Chandni must go to the police station after hitting a pedestrian while driving, and officer assigned to their case turns out to be Shobha’s cousin. How long can Amit and Chandni keep their adultery a secret? Will Amit and Chandni leave their spouses to be together? Silsila is worth a viewing to find out!

Although Silsila is not the first Bollywood film to depict extra-marital love, it is ground-breaking in its concrete portrayal of the consummation of adultery.  Indeed, this film compelled Indian audiences to think about extra-marital affairs and whether they can be cinematically romanticized in a way that appeals to the masses. Silsila offers some justification for the relationship between Amit and Chandni because they were a couple before Amit sacrificed his love to uphold his duty to his brother. However, the film portrays the tumultous decline of their extra-marital romance, eventually depicting Amit and Chandni as disloyal adulterers instead of righteous lovers. The uncomfortable subject matter is presumably the reason why this film failed to be a box office success. Regarding the audience’s reaction to Silsila, Yash Chopra has said:

 ”The film had inherent tensions because of the casting coup. If I was confident of the project, it was because all the three artistes had individually assured me that there would be no problems at their end. And they kept their word. It was a film on extra-marital relationships and call it moral and societal pressures, but at the last minute, I developed cold-feet and thought that maybe the hero should come home to his wife. The original ended differently. When and why I changed the ending I don’t know, but I did so because I felt that the audience wasn’t ready. But the audience didn’t accept what we gave them either.”

Although audiences may not have reacted positively to its thematic content, the film has left a legacy of controversy that is still remembered today. The release of Silsila marked the end of the alleged affair between Rekha and Amitabh, but those associated with the Bollywood industry still discuss their love story more than 25 years later. At public events such as award functions, the media is unforgiving in keeping a close eye on how Amitabh, Jaya, and Rekha interact with each other!

Aside from its controversy, this film is also remembered for a number of special debuts. In Silsila, Yash Chopra introduced Shiv (santoor maestro Pt. Shivkumar Sharma) and Hari (flute maestro Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia) for the first time as composers of Hindi film music. Moreover, Javed Akhtar penned his first lyrics for a Hindi film in Silsila. The soundtrack for Silsila has a number of popular hits such as dekhaa ek khvaab and rang barse, but ”niilaa aasmaa.n so gayaa is especially noteworthy for its use of Amitabh Bacchan as a playback singer. Amitabh showcases his versatility as a performer by doing his own singing, which defied the conventions that had been established in the industry for years. Although he lacks the refinement of musical training, Mr. Bacchan can certainly hold a tune in his version of this ballad. A little bit past her prime, Lata Mangeshkar also offers a melancholic interpretation of the same song picturized on Rekha. Listen to both as you follow along with our translations, and let us know which version you prefer in the comments! Until next time…

-Mr. 55

The first version of niilaa aasmaa.n showcases the passionate on-screen chemistry shared by Rekha and Amitabh Bacchan in Silsila (1981). 

Neela Aasman So Gaya: Lyrics and Translation (Male)

niilaa aasmaa.n so gayaa
The blue sky has fallen into slumber.

os barse.n, raat bhiige, ho.nTh thharraaye.n
Dew falls, the night becomes drenched, and my lips quiver.
dhaDkane.n kuchh kahnaa chaahe.n, kah nahii.n paaye.n
Although my heartbeats desire to say something, they are unable to.
havaa kaa geet maddham hai
The breeze sings softly,
samay kii chaal bhii kam hai
while the time passes slowly.

merii baaho.n me.n sharmaate lajaate aise tum aaye
You came into my arms, shying away in embarassment, 
ki jaise baadalo.n me.n chaa.nd dhiire dhiire aa jaaye
like the Moon cautiously slipping into the clouds.
yah tanhaayii, yah mai.n aur tum
This solitude, you, and me. 
zamii.n bhii ho gayii gumsum
Even the Earth has fallen silent.

niilaa aasmaa.n so gayaa
The blue sky has fallen into slumber.

Rekha wallows in sorrow during the second version of niilaa aasmaa.n after Amitabh tells her that they cannot marry each other in Silsila (1981).

Neela Aasman So Gaya: Lyrics and Translation (Female)

niilaa aasmaa.n so gayaa
The blue sky has fallen into slumber. 

aa.nsuuo.n me.n chaa.nd Duubaa, raat murjhaayii
In my tears, the Moon has set and the night has withered. 
zindagii me.n duur tak phailii hai tanhaayii
Solitude has spread far into my life. 
jo guzre ham pe vah kam hai
What has happened to me thus far is a small beginning,
tumhaare gham kaa mausam hai
for I have just entered the season of sorrow for you.

yaad kii vaadii me.n guu.nje biite afsaane
Tales of the past resonate in the valley of memories. 
hamsafar jo kal the ab Thahare ve begaane
Yesterday’s companion is now a stranger. 
muhabbat aaj pyaasii hai
My love remains unquenched today.
baDii gahrii udaasii hai
I am overcome by a very deep sorrow.

niilaa aasmaa.n so gayaa
The blue sky has fallen into slumber.

Glossary

niilaa: blue; aasmaa.n: sky; os: dew; bhiignaa: to become drenched; tharraanaa: to quiver; dhaDkan: heartbeat; havaa: wind, breeze; maddham: dim, soft; samay: time; chaal: movement, passing; sharmaanaa: to shy away; lajaanaa: to be embarrassed; baadal: cloud; dhiire dhiire: cautiously; tanhaayii: solitude; gumsum: silent; murjhaanaa: to wither; phailnaa: to spread; yaad: memories; vaadii: valley; guu.njnaa: to resonate; afsaanaa: tale, story; hamsafar: companion: begaanaa: stranger; pyaasii: unquenched; gahraa: deep; udaasii: sorrow.

Amitabh Bacchan sacrifices his love for Rekha to marry his late brother’s pregnant fiance Jaya Bacchan in Silsila (1981).

Waheeda Rehman hesitates at the bottom of a staircase leading to the man she loves in Khamoshi (1968).

For our next post we present the full lyrics and translation to the hauntingly beautiful “Tum Pukar Lo” from Khamoshi (1968). This song easily makes my list of most powerful and stirring picturizations from Bollywood. The stark black-and-white imagery highlights the emptiness of space, of shadows, and symbolic barriers. Most of all, the graceful shots that linger longer than action alone permits serve to create a new environment–a world of waiting where time slows down and the confines of the hospital become both escapist and imprisoning. I loved and still love the opening dolly shot so much that I attempted to recreate it in my final film project junior year of Harvard. The shot is transformative–literally taking the audience from behind bars to the free world, and Waheeda from the restraint of her conscience to the new life that beckons her above the staircase. A gentle wind miraculously flows down from Dharmendra’s balcony, through the barren corridor, down the grand stairs, and ultimately through Waheeda’s saari palluu giving rise to a simple, evocative image of a woman drawn by a force greater than any danger: love.

I LOVE the classic “frame-within-a-frame” of the mis-en-scene. Not how the lighting in this sequence informs the trajectory of the characters–recall that prior to Waheeda’s discouragement, the welcoming light source came from the balcony (now shrouded in obscurity), indicating a change in both destination and mindset.

I’ve broken down the dolly shot into 3 parts with my storyboard sketches to give you a full picture of how a shot like this is pulled off. The timing and fluidity of the dolly movement (and the pull focus) must be perfectly coordinated with the pace of the actresses walk as the camera additionally swivels on its own axis tracking her ascent up the stairs. I can only say after having attempting to do this shot myself, that it’s a headache but the effect is absolutely wonderful. Ultimately, Khamoshi is a film about identity and the silence caused by its loss through love. The misappropriated gazes in the film that lead characters in and out of a world of insanity is moving and tragic–and the audience too becomes implicit in that beautiful slippage of reality through Kamal Bose’s stunning cinematography, which won him the Filmfare award in 1968! Like Khamoshi’s characters, the camera lingers in each constructedly bereft space, longing for something more.

The shot begins to the side of the staircase, a literal behind-bars view of Waheeda’s ascent.

The camera swivels midway through the dolly pull at a low-angle as the rails of the staircase form a figurative cage around the actress.

The dolly track at last ends at the base of the staircase, holding the shot after Waheeda leaves the stairs, underscoring the incredible emptiness of the rigid space she inhabits–and her escape from it.

You won’t see much of Dharmendra, the mystery man and asylum inpatient, who sings this song. Instead you see only his outline against the balcony of their confinement. And of course, anything else would be imperfect–while this, this unfulfilled gaze of love, is precisely the poetic complement to the yearning expressed in Gulzar’s heartfelt lyrics. This song may be my favorite Hemant Kumar solo with a melody that hangs in the air long after the song is finished. Whether or not it beats Rajesh Khanna lip-syncing “Woh Shaam Kuch Ajeeb Thi” from the same film is up to you to decide!

Dharmendra passes sleepless nights thinking of the beautiful woman he lost in Khamoshi (1968).

Without further ado, see for yourself why this song has become immortal. Follow along with the video here, and we hope you enjoy the lyrics and full English translation to “Tum Pukar Lo” below!

Tum Pukar Lo Lyrics and Translation:

Tum pukaar lo
Call out to me
Tumhaaraa intezaar hai
I am waiting for you
Tum pukar lo
Call out to me
Khwaab chun rahe hai.N raat beqaraar hai
I am choosing my dreams while the night remains restless
Tumhaaraa intezaar hai
I am waiting for you
Tum pukaar lo
Call out to me

HonTh se liye hue dil ki baat hum
The words in my heart have escaped from my lips
Jaagte rahe.nge aur kitne raat hum?
How many more nights will I remain awake like this?
Mukhtasar si baat hai: tumse pyaar hai
The matter is simple: I love you

Tumhaaraa intezaar hai
I am waiting for you
Tum pukaar lo
Call out to me

Dil bahal to jaayegaa is khayaal se
My heart will be content with this thought
Haal mil gaya tumhaaraa apne haal se
That my well-being becomes yours
Raat yeh qaraar ki beqaraar hai
This quiet night is restless

Tumhaaraa intezaar hai
I am waiting for you
Tum pukaar lo
Call out to me

Glossary:

pukaarnaa: to call; intezaar karna: to wait; khvaab: dream; beqaraar: restless; honTh: lips; mukhtasar: brief, short; bahal: content; khayaal: thought; haal: well-being, state; qaraar: restful, quiet

My favorite line of this song is by far “Mukhtasar si baat hai, tum se pyaar hai!” So romantic and God, how I love an understatedly accurate pronunciation of the Urdu khe! However, I’m afraid this is one of those cases in which no matter how you translate it, the beauty of the line is just lost in the bluntness of English.

- Mrs. 55

Hema Malini dances with joyful abandon in Sholay’s famous holi number “Holi Ke Din.”

The festival of Holi is among Bollywood’s favorite celebrations–an occasion at last as colorful as the country of its origin. Indeed Holi, a Hindu spring festival, is commonly known as the Festival of Colors. It is both a religious celebration signifying the triumph of Good over Evil, as well as a cultural one commemorating the onset of a new Spring season. It is marked by the throwing of colorful powders, the lighting of bonfires, and the strengthening of bonds between all individuals in colorful merriment. Its spirited catchphrase “Buraa na maano, Holi hai!” (Don’t bear any ill-feelings, it’s Holi!”) speaks to the underlying theme of the day – the burning of negative forces or ill-will, a sort of spiritual purging. The smearing of colors represents the deconstructing of identities and the breaking of social barriers, as all rejoice and participate together, regardless of social class. At the very least, it is a day to settle old scores and move on. Indeed, everyone is welcome and everyone is pardoned for his or her revelry. Thus, we mortals celebrate Holi today with fun and games, colors and powder, and Bollywood takes this grand opportunity to ignite romance.

Rajesh Khanna woos Asha Parekh with color at the Holi celebration of Kati Patang (1970).

There’s something inherent to the playful tag-style nature of Holi that lends itself so conveniently to flirtation and a male-female dichotomy. We discussed the appalling lack of Diwali-associated songs in classic Bollywood previously, and hazarded the guess that the festival is far less conducive to overt flirtation and bumping dance grooves like Holi invariably is. Whether wooing the mourning lover into a literal rainbow of joy or painting your sweetheart with a visible mark of your flirtatious overtures, Holi delivers the goods for Bollywood every time.

Even the old school epic Mother India takes a drama break for the holi festivities!

Below is our list of the 10 greatest Holi songs of classic Bollywood cinema. Happy Holi to all our readers–and if you’re stuck in a huge snowstorm like we are, here’s hoping Holi will usher in the Spring at last!

1. Rang barse (Silsila 1981)

The ultimate old school Holi hit, this song will force anyone to get in the mood and join the festivities! Say what you want about Amitabh and Rekha’s clandestine affair, this dance number will get you on board in no time!

2. Aaj na chodenge (Kati Patang 1970)

This song is easily my favorite Bollywood holi song! Besides the fact that I grew up on the Kati Patang soundtrack, does it get much better than Rajesh Khanna-Asha Parekh shy seduction? Lata and Kishore are delightful, but don’t get me started on the bizarre chorus act that chops up the number like barbarians on holiday.

3. Holi Aayi Re Kanhaayi (Mother India 1957)

Oh, there’s no school like the old school! Bring it back Nargis-style with this classic song from Mother India that just overflows with romance and sass! The only thing better than a Holi song is a Holi village dance-off.

4. Tan rang lo ji (Kohinoor 1960)

While this royal gem may be shot in black-and-white, you can practically see the colors flying in this fantastic Mohammed Rafi-Dilip Kumar celebration that invites the entire kingdom for a Holi song-and-dance sequence!

5. Holi Ke Din (Sholay 1975)

Retro flirting Queen Hema Malini proves to Dharmendra that she’s more than just a loud mouth in Sholay–her moves and dancing steal the show in this colorful song!

6. Are Ja Re Hat Natkhat (Navrang 1959)

Classical dancer Sandhya wows the audience with this traditional stage performance, alternating as both the male and female character complete with ghungroo! Asha Bhonsle’s Hindustani vocals balance out Mahendra Kapoor’s mainstream sway in a Holi number that is well-known even today for its stunning classical choreography.

7. Piya Tose Naina (Guide 1965)

Looking for something a little classier? Go no further than this Waheeda Rehman semi-classical piece from the great philosophical Guide. Watch her prance around with so much joie de vivre, you’ll ignore how gaudy the stage is decorated and your feelings for high-pitched female choruses of the 1960s.

8. Nadiya Se Dariya (Namak Haram 1973)

This song is just plain cute. While not a roaring shoulder-shaking dance off like some of these others, the song is playful and full of shy passion for Rajesh Khanna, which we always approve of.

9. Baghi Re Bhagi Brij Bala (Rajput 1982)

I think this hidden jewel is under-appreciated by historians. While something of a repeat of previous Hema Malini-Dharmendra magic, Vinod Khanna holds his own in this fast-paced duet that once again brings an entire kingdom to the palace to party Holi-style!

10. Kaikhe Paan Banaraswala (Don 1978)

OK, so this isn’t technically a Holi song per se, but it’s arguably the unofficial anthem! There’s something about a traditional, rich beat coupled with Kishore’s absolutely unabashed vocals that set the tone of a celebration and throwing inhibitions to the wind!

While Holi was born in India, it’s popularity was carried across the diaspora and is celebrated around the world each year with full force! The picture below is from my freshman year at Harvard where Holi was played on the Mac quad! Can you spot me in the pigtails with the orange-yellow face?

- Mrs. 55

Pre-independance Indian actor and singer, K.L. Saigal plays a Mughal-era lover in in Shahjehan (1946).

Our next lyrics and English translation is of the ageless song “Jab Dil Hi Toot Gaya” from Shahjehan (1946). Known widely as early playback singer K.L. Saigal’s swansong, “Jab Dil Hi Toot Gaya” is a song close to my heart and family. K.L. Saigal was my great-great uncle through my Kashmiri Nani who grew up in Jammu near Saigal sahib‘s birthplace. It’s a song that defined a generation, and one that sadly, many of my generation have never known. The great K.L. Saigal’s voice was the voice of my grandparents–the voice of men and women who can remember a time before India gained independence, before the partition destroyed Punjab, and before Bollywood was redefined as a spectacle of the mass ornament. He was a superstar before there was Mohammed Rafi and before the rise of Lata Mangeshkar. For he lived and died in an era that did not know the glitter of Eastmancolor or the dazzle of expensive special effects. K.L. Saigal was an artist when poetry reigned supreme.

K.L. Saigal and co-star Jamuna by the riverbanks in the 1935 Hindi epic Devdas.

Like Al Jolson in America, K.L. Saigal revolutionized music in the 1930s and 1940s in the early days of “talkies” when the concept of a “playback singer” had not been born. He acted in his own films–including the famous 1935 Devdas that has been since remade by countless Bollywood thespians. You may not know his work, but you know his legacy. He left a profound stylistic impact on the great singers of the Golden era that would follow (think Mukesh’s “Dil Jalta Hai” from Pehli Nazar to understand how hard these artists sought to emulate Saigal sahib)! Perhaps you recall the song playing in background of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995) as Simran’s father returned home–it was none other than K.L. Saigal’s “Gham Diye Mushtaqil,” meant to represent the traditions of an backward generation–but in my opinion that sells it unfairly short. K.L. Saigal’s masterpieces may seem old-fashioned now, but they were the hallmark of those who fought for civil rights and equality, who dreamed of romance and greater things than the dull lives they were trapped in, and who believed in a future better than their own. Perhaps his audience is not so different from today’s. Me, when I hear “Jab Dil Hi Toot Gaya“, I am always reminded of my grandparents who used to sing this song at the most unexpected moments–for in its words are not just the roots of Bollywood as we know it, but of our own traditions.

K.L. Saigal (1904-1947) passed away at the age of 43 after years of struggling with alcoholism. Someone tell me he doesn’t look straight from a German Expressionist film here–look at those piercing eyes!

I hope I can convince you to open your mind to the world of Hindi cinema before the Golden Age–at least this once! I think Saigal sahib‘s depth will surprise you–and perhaps you’ll recognize in the soulful lyrics of Majrooh Sultanpuri the many reincarnations of a similar theme that followed. In Shahjehan (1946), K.L Saigal plays a rejected lover involved in a complicated royal coup that ultimately ends in both a happy marriage for him and the construction of the Taj Mahal for eternity. Intriguing, no? Our lyrics and English translation to “Jab Dil Hi Toot Gaya” are below. Follow along with the video, and do let us know your thoughts on this old school number in the comments!

Jab Dil Hi Toot Gaya Lyrics and Translation:

Jab dil hii TuuT gayaa
When my heart is broken
Ham jii ke kyaa kare.Nge?
What can I do by living?

Ulfat ka diyaa hamne is dil mei.N jalaayaa thaa
I lit the flame of love in my heart
Umiid ke phoolo.N se is ghar ko sajaayaa thaa
I decorated this house with the flowers of hope
Ek bhedii looT gaayaa
And one of my own stole everything
Ham jii ke kyaa kare.Nge?
What can I do by living?
Jab dil hii TuuT gayaa
When my heart is broken

Maaluum na thaa intii mushkil hai.N merii raahe.N
I was not aware that my paths would prove so difficult
Armaan ke bahe aa.Nsuu, hasrat ne bhari aahe.N
I shed tears of desire, unfulfilled wishes filled my sighs
Har saathii chhuuT gayaa
Every companion abandoned me
Ham jii ke kyaa kare.Nge?
What can I do by living?
Jab dil hii TuuT gayaa
When my heart is broken

Glossary:

ulfat: love; diyaa: flame, candle; umiid: hope; phool: flower; bhedi: an insider, one of your own; maalum: awareness; mushkil: difficult; armaan: desire; aa.Nsuu: tears; hasrat: unfulfilled wish; aah: sigh; saathii: companion

Did you know that at the age of 13, a young Mohammed Rafi actually met K.L. Saigal? According to a new biography, Rafi sahib got the chance to meet his idol at a K.L. Saigal concert in Lahore in which young Rafi spontaneously performed a Punjabi solo to the accolades of the crowd. K.L. Saigal was so impressed with the boy’s talent, he patted him on the head and declared he would be a great singer one day!

-Mrs. 55

The tragically beautiful film Pakeezah (1972) stars Meena Kumari in its leading role.

Today, we continue our series on the eternally beautiful Pakeezah (1972) by providing the lyrics and English translation to inhii.n logo.n ne, a classic gem that has defined the genre of Bollywood mujras since its release.  

Tuned by Ghulam Mohammed and penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, this song was perhaps the most widely appreciated number (it reached #2 on the 1972 Binaca Geet Mala list!) from a soundtrack full of memorable compositions like chalte chalte and mausam hai aashiqaanaa. Although its light, Yaman-based melody evokes a playful sprit, the underlying tragedy expressed in the lyrics of this song is unexpectedly ironic. In spite of the pain she suffers from being stigmatized as a tavaaif, Meena Kumari is forced to render this mujraa with verve and a smile for her patrons at the brothel. While addressing her beloved saiyaa.n, she laments how the men around her have stolen her innocence and modesty, which is symbolically represented by the loss of her DupaTTaa. To persuade her lover, she implores him to ask three characters in the song to confirm that her virtue was soiled against her will: the cloth merchant, the cloth dyer, and the constable. Representing different facets of society, these characters serve as witnesses to her loss of innocence and sometimes take part in the process (e.g. when the constable snatches her scarf away at the market.) To add to the irony, the red color of the lost scarf and Meena Kumari’s on-screen outfit are reminiscent of the colors adorning a South Asian bride on her wedding day. Yet, the audience is acutely aware that a courtesan in such a position will provoke condemnation and disgust for attempting to engage in the conventional structures of love and marriage established by the society around her. 

In addition to carrying a powerful message about social stigma in Indian society, these lyrics are memorable for their apabhransa (corrupt, non-grammatical) use of Urdu-Hindi. Reminiscent of the Awadhi dialect, a number of modifications to modern standard Hindi have been used here for poetic effect:

le liinaa = le liyaa (have taken)
bajajvaa = bajaj (cloth merchant)
hamrii = hamaarii (my, our)
sipaiyaa = sipaahii (constable)
bajariyaa = bazaar (market)

These substitutions really stick in the listener’s mind and give the lyrics of inhii.n logo.n ne a unique linguistic flavor that stands out from other compositions from the same period. Non-standard dialects such as Braj find prominence in classical Hindustani bandishes, but the lyricists for Bollywood cinema of the Golden Age tended to rely on standard Urdu-Hindi for most of their work. 

Songs like inhii.n logo.n ne have historically cast a sympathetic light on the tragic lives led by courtesans of yesteryear, and it is a well-known fact that fans have been fascinated with this genre of music and movies since the earliest days of the Hindi film industry. To conclude, I’ll leave you with a thought-provoking question: given the conservative social climate of 1960s and 1970s India, why did courtesan-based films (e.g. Pakeezah, Mughal-e-Azam, Amar Prem) resonate intimately with Indian audiences? Although deep-seated stigmas surround tavaaifs and their profession, what is the driving force behind India’s obsession with the story of a courtesan with a heart of gold? Let us know your thoughts in the comments!

-Mr. 55

P.S. Check out a rare black and white version of this song filmed on a younger Meena Kumari in 1956 (16 years before the film’s eventual release)!

Meena Kumari’s playful spirit in ‘inhii.n logo.n ne‘  belies the tragic reality of her profession as a courtesan in Pakeezah (1972).

Inhi Logon Ne: Lyrics and Translation

inhii.n logo.n ne, inhii.n logo.n ne
These people, these people
inhii.n logo.n ne le liina DupaTTaa meraa
These people have taken away my scarf of modesty.

hamrii na maano, saiyaa.n, bajajvaa se puuchho
If you don’t accept my word, oh beloved, ask the cloth merchant
jis ne asharfii gaj diinaa DupaTTaa meraa
who sold me a yard of its fabric for a gold coin.

hamrii na maano, saiyaa.n, ra.ng rajvaa se puuchho
If you don’t accept my word, oh beloved, ask the cloth dyer
jis ne gulaabii ra.ng diinaa DupaTTaa meraa
who gave my scarf its pink color.

hamrii na maano, saiyaa.n, sipaiyaa se puuchho
If you don’t accept my word, oh beloved, ask the constable
jis ne bajariyaa me.n chhiinaa DupaTTaa meraa
who stripped away my scarf at the market.

inhii.n logo.n ne le liinaa DupaTTaa meraa
These people have taken away my scarf of modesty.

Glossary

le lenaa: to take away; DupaTTaa: a long scarf covering a woman’s chest, a traditional symbol of modesty and honor for Indian women; hamrii (baat): my word; maannaa: to accept, believe; bajajvaa: cloth merchant; asharfii: a gold coin issued by Muslim dynasties; gaj: a unit of measurement equivalent to a yard; saiyaa.n: beloved; rang rajvaa: cloth dyer; gulaabii: pink; sipaiyaa: constable; bajariyaa: market; chiinnaa: to strip away.

Adorned in red and gold ornaments, Meena Kumari’s appearance resembles that of an Indian bride in Pakeezah (1972).

Agonized by his fate, Bharat Bhushan entreats the Lord to heed his grievances in Baiju Bawra (1952)

On April 15, 2013, an unspeakable tragedy hit my current hometown of Boston when two bombs were set off at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. This annual event held on Patriot’s Day attracts nearly 500,000 spectators who come to watch amateur and professional runners from all over the world. Considered one of the largest acts of terrorism ever to strike Boston, the marathon bombings killed 3 individuals and wounded nearly 300 victims. Tragedy is always unsettling, but these attacks have been particularly difficult to grapple with because of their proximity to home. As the local community finds the strength to overcome, our thoughts and prayers at Mr. and Mrs. 55 are with all those who were affected by this senseless act of violence in Boston.

Five days after the attack, a harrowing manhunt for one of the suspects at large put the entire city of Boston on lockdown with a “shelter in place” order for all residents.  Within the safe confines of my dorm at Harvard, I found comfort during this time in old Hindi film songs–something familiar and close to my heart.  In the aftermath of this tragedy, there was one song in particular that resonated deeply with my state of mind: o duniyaa ke rakhvaale from Baiju Bawra (1952). In commemoration of the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings, we offer the lyrics and English translation to this timeless devotional classic. 

Composed by Naushad in the somber and grave raga Darbari Kanada, this evergreen number from Baiju Bawra (1952) is one of Mohammed Rafi’s best renditions. His pathos-laden voice navigates through a difficult melody spanning nearly two octaves that culminates in a high Bb4 (taar shuddh ma in the key of F) during the final climax. In light of the recent tragedy, however, we will focus on the message presented by Shakeel Badayuni’s lyrics. Without using elevated vocabulary, Badayuni masterfully captures the essence of an important philosophical maxim that may help us cope with the recent events: the reconciliation of opposites. Expressed as frustration and anger, the song’s protagonist struggles to accept the contradictory nature of the world he inhabits. Why were storms created along with ships? Why must we be separated from our loved ones after being united? Why does hope exist along with despair? And ultimately, why was evil created along with good? 

Failing to find adequate responses to these difficult questions, the protagonist lashes out in grievance against his Lord. Indeed, Badayuni makes a bold move in the context of a bhajan by having the protagonist refer to his Lord as harjaayii (unfaithful, betrayer). The protagonist’s frustration is understandable given that everything familiar to him in this world has turned against him. Using metaphorical imagery, Badayuni describes this feeling through the transformation of conventional entities: rain into fire, flowers into embers, night into snake, and stars into stones. The lyrics continue take a few unconventional turns when the protagonist asks the Lord to take his life (“jiivan apnaa vaapas le le, jiivan denevaale“) and when the devotee subversively offers his blessings to the Lord (“bhagvaan bhalaa ho teraa!”) in sardonic resignation. 

At their core, these lyrics encourage the listener to appreciate the value of prajna, a Sanskrit term used to describe the wisdom of non-duality. Based on the fundamental reconciliation of dual phenomena, this worldview posits that the demarcation of polar opposites leads to further conflict and suffering.  Instead of placing last week’s tragic events within a framework of good versus evil, valuing prajna instructs us to focus our energy on reflection and the discovery of underlying causes.  Additionally, in Shakeel Badayuni’s words, we must not lose hope in the face of misfortune (“qismat TuuTii aas na TuuTii) as we rise above our differences and provide support to one another in this trying time of need.  

Here at Mr. and Mrs. 55, we would like to reiterate our deepest condolences and sympathies to all those in our community and beyond who were affected by the recent Boston Marathon attacks. For those who are interested, we encourage donations to One Fund Boston, a charitable organization established by Mayor Thomas Menino and Gov. Patrick Deval to support the victims of this tragedy. Stay strong, Boston!

-Mr. 55

Lord Shiva sheds tears upon his devotee’s plight in Baiju Bawra (1952)

O Duniya Ke Rakhwale: Lyrics and Translation

bhagvaan, bhagvaan, bhagvaan!
Oh Lord!

o duniyaa ke rakhvaale! sun dardbhare mere naale
Oh protector of this world! Please heed my woeful lamentations.

aash niraash ke do rango.n se duniyaa tuu ne sajaayii
You have adorned this world with the two colors of hope and despair.
naiyaa sang tuufaan banaayaa, milan ke saath judaayii
You created the storm along with the boat, separation along with union.
jaa dekh liyaa harjaayii
Lord, I have witnessed your betrayal.
 o luuT gayii mere pyaar ki nagarii, ab to niir bahaa le
Oh! My city of love has been plundered; now shed a few tears upon my plight.

aag banii saavaan kii barkhaa, phuul bane angaare
The monsoon rains have turned into fire, while the flowers have become embers.
naagin ban gayii raat suhaanii, patthar ban gaye taare
The beautiful night has become a snake, while the stars have turned into stones.
sab TuuT chuke hai.n sahaare
All of my support has been lost.
o jiivan apnaa vaapas le le, jiivan denevaale
Oh provider of life! Please take back this life from me.

chaa.nd ko Dhuu.nDe paagal suuraj, shaam ko Dhuu.nDe saveraa
The mad Sun seeks the Moon, while the morning searches for the night.
mai.n bhii Dhuu.nDuu.n us priitam ko ho na sakaa jo meraa
I too search for the beloved who could not be mine.
bhagvaan bhalaa ho teraa!
Lord, may you be blessed!
o qismat phuuTii aas na TuuTii, paa.nv me.n paD gaye chhaale
Oh! I have suffered misfortune without losing hope, though my feet have become sore with blisters.

mahal udaas aur galiyaa.n suunii, chup-chaap hai.n diivaare.n
The palace is forlorn with its deserted alleys and silent walls.
dil kyaa ujaDaa, duniyaa ujaDii, ruuTh gayii hai.n bahaare.n
My heart has been ravaged, my entire world has been destroyed, and even the new spring sulks in displeasure.
ham jiivan kaise guzaare.n?
How can I spend my life like this?
o mandir girtaa phir ban jaataa, dil ko kaun sambhaale?
Oh! Fallen temples can be rebuilt, but who can mend my broken heart?

o duniyaa ke rakhvaale! sun dardbhare mere naale
Oh protector of this world! Please heed my woeful lamentations.

Glossary

bhagvaan: Lord; duniyaa: word; rakhvaalaa: protector; dardbharaa: woeful; naale: lamentation; aash: hope; niraash: despair; sajaanaa: to adorn; naiyaa: boat; tuufaan: storm; milan: union; judaayii: separation; harjaayii: betrayer, unfaithful one; luuT jaanaa: to be plundered; nagrii: city, town; niir bahaanaa: to shed tears; aag: fire; saavan: monsoon; barkhaa: rain; naagin: snake (female); suhaanii: lovely, beautiful; sahaaraa: support; jiivan: life; vaapas lenaa: to take back; denevaalaa: provider; chaa.nd; Moon; paagal: mad, crazy; suuraj: Sun; shaam: evening, night; saveraa: morning; priitam: beloved; “(kisii kaa) bhalaa ho!“: an expression used to indicate the offering of blessings to someone; chhaalaa: blister; mahal: palace; udaas: sullen, forlorn; galii: alley; suunaa: empty, deserted; chup-chaap: silent; diivaar: wall; ujaDnaa: to be uprooted, ravaged or destroyed; ruuTh jaanaa: to sulk; bahaar: spring; jiivan guzaarnaa: to spend life; mandir: temple; sambhaalnaa: to manage, mend.

A dejected Bharat Bhushan asks for his life to be taken back in Baiju Bawra (1952)

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 Kishore Kumar 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 the myriad of hand gestures reminiscent of a classical mudra to accompany the emotion of each line (coupled with her impeccable posture), that 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!

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
My lover will enter my heart
Aake phir na jaanaa re
And once he comes, he will never leave
Chham chhamaa chham chham

Raja ban ke aanaa re
Like a king, he will come
Mohe leke jaanaa re
And he will take me with him
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 as I appease you, 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
My lover will enter my heart
Aake phir na jaanaa re
And once he comes, he will never leave
Chham chhamaa chham chham

Raja ban ke aanaa re
Like a king, he will come
Mohe leke jaanaa re
And he will take me with him
Chham chhamaa chham chham

Glossary:

saiyaaN: lover; 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

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.

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 was perhaps more than coincidence that these artists came to dominate film lyrics. Like many arenas, the Bombay film industry was an old boy network–for example: Sahir Ludhianvi 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 the Pakeezah genre. Pure Urdu was ubiquitous in classic Hindi cinema, wafting equally through the sets of an urban crime drama and meandering through a village epic. I will highlight the importance and sheer beauty of Urdu poetry in dialogues with 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:

Rajesh Khanna’s Speech from Daag (1973) written by Akhtar ul Iman:

“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.”

In this and so many other scripts, Urdu is an inextricable poetic catalyst for the Hindi speech. 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).

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 I can still write to 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 cannot be found elsewhere.

-Mrs. 55

Dev Anand entrances the audience with “Hum Bekhudi Mein” in Kala Pani (1958).

We now present the full lyrics and English translation to one of Mohammed Rafi’s finest solos: “Hum Bekhudi Mein Tumko Pukare.” The song, and in fact the film Kala Pani (1958), is a considerable break from Dev Anand’s previous work, transforming him from the debonair urbanite to a meditative, black kurta pajama-clad member of the traditional intelligentsia. “Hum Bekhudi Mein” bears the unmistakable hallmark of S.D. Burman’s finest compositions—a hauntingly powerful melody that is so captivating, instrumental ornamentation is close to entirely abandoned. There is something reminiscent of his earlier composition, “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari“–with an emphasis on reflection, the purity of Mohammed Rafi’s voice engulfs the listener in the qawwal-like trance of his yearning, the feeling of entering a dream where time loses its meaning. Indeed, the “bekhudi” or loss of self as described by the singer is precisely what lyricist Majrooh Sultanpuri aims to induce in the listener.

Nalini Jaywant believes she has found love at last in the mysterious stranger with a haunting voice in Kala Pani (1958).

The nuance of the lyrics is an exceptional example of the multi-faceted levels of interpretation of Urdu poetry. Each line returns to the refrain’s lingering “chale gaye”—a verb tense indicating continuity of the hero’s past actions, and his current obsession with reliving them. However, Mohammed Rafi’s very deliberate pause before singing “chale gaye” with each line allows for an additional dimension to the song’s interpretation, as if a forlorn reference to the woman herself who has left him (“woh jo chale gaye”). I love this song for every person that hears it will understand it in a slightly different way. If you can’t get enough of this melody, lovers of trivia will be delighted to discover that S.D. Burman actually recorded the original Bengali version of this song in his own voice, “Ghum Bhulechi Nijhum”!

In the Hindi version, hero Dev Anand elaborates on two forms of intoxication—first, the spell cast by his former lover, and second, alcohol to which he has resigned himself.  In the evocative final line of the song, “Sheeshe mei.N aap ko bhi utaare chale gaye,” the hero reconciles their duality and his escape from reality. With the oblivion granted by alcohol, he regains the very woman who has left him in a state of bekhudi—a philosophical wanderer in fugue-like search of a connection.

Despite biting his fingernails throughout the song, Dev Anand is simply too attractive to handle in a black kurta and matching traditional hat.

We hope you enjoy our English translation to the lyrics of this beautiful ghazal “Hum Bekhudi Mein” from Kala Pani (1958). Check out the video in which Dev Anand woos the lovely courtesan Nalini Jaywant with his artistic depth! Did you know that after this song was released, Dev Anand was actually told not to wear black anymore in public because Indian women  would swoon and jump from buildings upon seeing him dressed in that devastatingly attractive shade? I mean…I can see where they’re coming from!

Hum Bekhudi Mein Tumko Pukare Lyrics and Translation:

Hum bekhudii mei.N tum ko pukaare chale gaye
Unaware of my own self, I kept calling to you
Saaghar mei.N zindagii ko utaare chale gaye
And so I kept drowning my life in a glass of wine
Hum…

Dekhaa kiye tumhe hum banke deewaanaa
When I used to see you, I was madly love
Utaraa jo nashaa to hum ne yeh jaana
Once that intoxication wore off, I knew this
Saare woh zindagii ke sahaare chale gaye
That all the support I had in life had gone

Hum bekhudii mei.N tum ko pukaare chale gaye
Unaware of my own self, I kept calling to you

Tum to na kaho hum khud hi se khele
At least do not say that I played this game by myself.
Doobe nahii.N humii yuu.N nashe mei.N akele
For I did not drown in this intoxication alone
Sheeshe mei.N aap ko bhi utaare chale gaye
You were what I kept pouring into my glass

Hum bekhudii mei.N tum ko pukaare chale gaye
Unaware of my own self, I kept calling to you
Saaghar mei.N zindagii ko utaare chale gaye
And so I kept drowning my life in a glass of wine
Hum…

Glossary:

bekhudi: loss of self-awareness; pukaarnaa: to call out; saaghar: wine goblet; zindagii: life; deewaanaa: madly in love; nashaa: intoxication; sahaaraa: support; khud: self; khelnaa: to play; Doobnaa: to drown; akelaa: alone; sheeshaa: glass, mirror

Interestingly, this gently hypnotic song is used to trap Nalini Jaywant into falling in love with Dev Anand and confess her past crimes. Yes, it’s all a pretense–Dev Anand is actually in love with Madhubala, the cheeky journalist who is helping him absolve his wrongfully imprisoned father. Nalini Jaywant played a role in the original crime and must now the price of unrequited love for his son. The film was actually based on A.J. Cronin’s Scottish novel “Beyond This Place” published in 1953. Dev Anand loved Cronin’s work so much, he also later turned one of Cronin’s most famous novels, “The Citadel” into the 1971 Bollywood film Tere Mere Sapne.

- Mrs. 55

Rajesh Khanna and Mumtaz engage in a playful treeside encounter in Aap Ki Kasam (1974).

A tree is the ideal wingman. It’s an insider trick Bollywood heros and heroines learned early on that rarely fails to end in matrimonial bliss. Many of the best songs of Bollywood occur in a forest, taking full advantage of that lovable prop whose stability is matched only by its generosity. In honor of Van Mahotsav, the annual Indian tree-planting festival taking place this week, we too would like to honor the cultural importance of the all-mighty tree in the greatest reflection of our society: film. Why a tree? Newcomers to classic Bollywood may ask with due naivite. The archetypal significance of entering the forest–delving deep into the mysteries of the mind and soul–do have some place in the escapism of romantic fantasy, but the logic of singing and dancing around a tree is actually quite simple.

Sharmila Tagore hugs a tree for emotional stability in Kashmir Ki Kali (1964).

In most romantic-dramas of the Golden Age, emotions are just brimming over with adorable intensity. With a tree as a wingman, you can simultaneously practice your moves with a literal tree hug while catching your breath from a potentially close encounter with the real object of your desire. See, the tree doesn’t judge. The tree doesn’t ask for a return favor next Friday. The tree is neutral ground–a seemingly innocent bystander in the forest of love to which both parties have full claim. Sometimes the woman peeks behind the tree, sometimes the man. As a friendly chaperone, the tree legitimizes everyone’s behavior in that bashful innocence of bygone romance. Yes, censorship laws may prevent you from making real moves on your loved one, but they won’t stop you from snuggling a tree.

Although Vijayantimala tightly embraces a forgiving tree trunk, it’s clear who she really wants to be hugging in Madhumati (1958).

Bollywood has been perfecting the tree ritual since time immemorial. It’s a cinematic institution, particularly for the benefits of discreet pans to the sunlit treetops or a calming mountainside when a love scene threatens to quickly advance from G to PG. We even emulated basic tree positioning in a photograph on our “About Us” page!

Enjoy our list of classic Bollywood’s best tree songs below. Study them thoroughly and know your part well before embarking on your next trip to the forest. While this list could honestly go on forever, we’ve chosen our top 15 tree songs based on creativity of tree choreography. Which of YOUR favorite tree numbers would you add? Share your thoughts in the comments!

1. Dekho Kasam Se (Tumsa Nahin Dekha 1957)

2. Dil Tadap Tadap (Madhumati 1958)

3. Deewana Mastana Hua Dil (Bombai Ka Babu 1960)

4. Do Sitaron Ka Zameen (Kohinoor 1960)

5. Abhi Na Jao Chod Kar (Hum Dono 1961)

6. Isharon Isharon Mein (Kashmir Ki Kali 1964)

7. Jaiye Aap Kahan Jaayenge (Mere Sanam 1965)

8. Baharon Phool Barsao (Suraj 1966)

9. In Baharon Mei.N Akeli (Mamta 1966)

10. Likhe Jo Khat Tujhe (Kanyadaan 1968)

11. Bekhudi Mein Sanam (Haseena Maan Jayegi 1968)

12. Jaane Jaan DhoonDta (Jawani Diwani 1972)

13. Suno Kaho Suna (Aap Ki Kasam 1974)

14. Is Mod Se Jaate Hain (Aandhi 1975)

15. Tune O Rangile (Kudrat 1981)

Shammi Kapoor coyly assesses the romantic situation from the comfort of his engraved tree in Tumsa Nahin Dekha (1957).

Feeling like a pro already? Perhaps you’re ready for the big time: spitting game around a tree in the rain! Check out our compilation of Bollywood’s best monsoon songs, and you’ll be walking down the aisle in no time.

-Mrs. 55

Against the stunning backdrop of the Lake Palace in Udaipur, Sunil Dutt mourns the loss of  his deceased wife in Mera Saaya (1966)

Today, we present the lyrics and English translation to the title track from Raj Khosla’s Mera Saaya (1966): tuu jahaa.n jahaa.n chalegaa. This timeless classic is embedded within the hearts of Hindi film music fans as an ode to love and its ability to provide strength and support during the most trying of circumstances.  

Unlike many songs from this era, tuu jahaa.n jahaa.n chalegaa is not used exclusively as a playback song in Mera Saaya. One version of this song plays in the background while a tormented Sunil Dutt sulks in confusion after an accused dacoit resembling his deceased wife (double role played by Sadhana) claims to be his wife weeks after her death. As he trudges around the beautiful Lake Palace (now one of India’s most luxurious and romantic hotels!) in Udaipur, Sadhana is nowhere to be found but we hear this song sung in full by her saayaa (shadow). Later in the film, tuu jahaa.n jahaa.n chalegaa is reprised in full when Sunil Dutt is listening to a record of his wife’s singing and a joyful flashback occurs to a party where Sadhana sings this song for guests along with his accompaniment on the piano. Interestingly, since Sunil Dutt taped his wife’s singing over an existing record, we hear a snippet of vah bhuulii dastaa.n, another haunting Lata-Madan Mohan gem from Sanjog (1961), during this version of the song.  

Mera Saaya (1966) has some beautiful shots of the Lake Palace in Udaipur, Rajasthan.

The title track from Mera Saaya epitomizes the magic that resulted from the collaboration between playback singer Lata Mangeshkar and music director Madan Mohan. An interesting anecdote about this song’s creation really brings this fact to life! After lyricist Raja Mehndi Ali Khan had completed the words, Madan Mohan had great difficulty composing a melody to finish the song. When Lata arrived on the day of this song’s recording, he told her the tune was not yet ready. Lata asked to see the lyrics and after humming a few lines, she said, “bhaiyaa, is me.n nand raag kaa istamaal kyo.n nahii.n karte?” Lata’s suggestion was enough to get Madan Mohan’s creative juices flowing, and he finished composing the tune in a jiffy. Decades later, this exquisite and gentle melody is still remembered as the textbook example of Raga Nand (a.ka. Anandi Kalyan) being used in Hindi film music!

Before tuu jahaa.n jahaa.n chalegaa was recorded, Raj Khosla was planning to release this movie under the name of Saaya. After listening to this song, he was so struck by its poetry that he decided to change the film’s title to Mera Saaya upon Madan Mohan’s suggestion. In my opinion, this type of camaraderie and rapport shared between artists of the Golden Era of Hindi films played a key role in producing cinema and music that has everlasting appeal. 

In a flashback, Sunil Dutt reminisces fondly about accompanying his wife on the piano to the title track of Mera Saaya (1966).

Does your shadow follow someone special in your life? If so, don’t forget to share this song and translation with that person! Thank you to one of our readers Ayla for sending in a request for this post. Until next time…

-Mr. 55

Tu Jahan Jahan Chalega: Lyrics and Translation

tuu jahaa.n jahaa.n chalegaa, meraa saayaa saath hogaa
Wherever you go, remember that my shadow will be with you.

kabhii mujhko yaad kar ke jo bahe.nge tere aa.nsuu
Whenever you shed tears in my memory,
to vahii.n pe rok le.nge unhe.n aa ke mere aa.nsuu
my tears will come and stop them in their tracks.
tuu jidhar kaa rukh karegaa, meraa saayaa saath hogaa
In whichever direction you face, remember that my shadow will be with you.

tuu agar udaas hogaa to udaas huu.ngii mai.n bhii
Should you ever become sad, then I will also partake in your sorrow.
nazar aauu.n yaa na aauu.n tere paas huu.ngii mai.n bhii
Whether you see me or not, I will always be by your side.
tuu kahii.n bhii jaa rahegaa, meraa saayaa saath hogaa
No matter where you are going, remember that my shadow will be with you.

mai.n agar bichhaD bhii jaauu.n, kabhii meraa gham na karnaa
Should I ever become separated from you, never mourn on my behalf.
meraa pyaar yaad kar ke kabhii aa.nkh nam na karnaa
Never moisten your eyes with tears in memory of my love.
tuu jo muD ke dekh legaa, meraa saayaa saath hogaa
Whenever you turn back to look at me, remember that my shadow will be with you. 

meraa gham rahaa hai shaamil, tere dukh me.n tere gham me.n
My sorrow has always remained present in your sorrow.
mere pyaar ne diyaa hai tera saath har janam me.n
My love has always accompanied you in every birth.
tuu koii janam bhii legaa, meraa saayaa saath hoga
In whichever birth you take, remember that my shadow will be with you.

tuu jahaa.n jahaa.n chalegaa, meraa saayaa saath hogaa
Wherever you go, remember that my shadow will be with you.

Glossary

saayaa: shadow; kisii ke saath honaa: to be with someone; bahnaa: to flow; aa.nsuu: tears; rok lenaa: to stop; rukh karnaa: to face; udaas: sad; nazar aanaa: to be seen; bichhaD jaanaa: to be separated; gham karnaa: to mourn; aa.nkh nam karnaa: to moisten eyes with tears; muD ke dekh lenaa: to turn back and look; shaamil rahnaa: to remain present; dukh: sorrow; kisii kaa saath denaa: to accompany someone;  janam: birth.

Sunil Dutt’s portrayal of a grieving husband haunted by past memories in Mera Saaya (1966) is bold and compelling.