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| 26.09.1923 - 04.12.2011 |
My introduction to Dev Anand, the man, came when I was a trainee journalist with The Sunday Observer in Bombay. Three months into our training period, the resident editor sent one of my colleagues to interview Dev Anand. I was deeply envious. (Green and purple vied with each other as I tried very hard to be happy for her.) I fed her with all the trivia I knew about Dev Anand. When she met him, she asked him about it. He was amused. How would a chit of a girl who was not even born when these things happened know about this? Savera mentioned that she had a friend who was an ardent fan, who could rattle off any amount of trivia about him. Devsaab laughed, and when she left after the interview, gave her a slip of paper with his autograph. For me.
I met him a few months later, when our newspaper held an awards night. I begged and pleaded, and promised to do anything if only my editor would let me go meet Devsaab to hand over the passes for the function. Devsaab was charm personified, and I was happy that my 'hero' was a gentleman, in the finest sense of the word.
I met him a few months later, when our newspaper held an awards night. I begged and pleaded, and promised to do anything if only my editor would let me go meet Devsaab to hand over the passes for the function. Devsaab was charm personified, and I was happy that my 'hero' was a gentleman, in the finest sense of the word.
What differentiated Dev Anand from the other two members of the ruling troika (to me, at least) was the fact that he was neither good-hearted tramp nor the ever-suffering, self-pitying Devdas. He was human, flawed, good, bad, and in-between; his 'heroes' were conflicted, and they had more shades of grey than sheer black or pure white. His heroes had no backstories, no justifications
His best roles came in films that were directed by his brothers, most notably his younger brother, Vijay Anand. And while his later films only proved that he did NOT have a director's vision, his plots, his themes, were topical and, more importantly, original. He prided himself on not plagiarising a single one of his movies. Every adaptation that Navketan made was properly credited.
Earlier this year, I wrote a post on my favourite Dev Anand songs. Then, on his 88th birthday, giving in to a reader's request (and my own fascination for the evergreen hero), I wrote another post on what I considered to be his best performances.
In my earlier post, I wrote: Whose irrepressible indomitable spirit has probably never heard the word 'impossible', and who wouldn't know what to do with it, if he did.
In my earlier post, I wrote: Whose irrepressible indomitable spirit has probably never heard the word 'impossible', and who wouldn't know what to do with it, if he did.
He didn't, really. As long as he lived, he continued to make films, one after the other. It's hard to believe that he is no more. His legacy will live on, in his films, his songs, our memories of a man who never said die. This post is dedicated to the spirit of that irreppressible, indefagitable, immeasurably charming man who embodied life. These are songs, in my opinion, embody the spirit of an actor who has given me countless hours of entertainment. I can only hope that he is up there, planning his next movie.
1. Tadbeer se bigdi hui taqdeer banale (Baazi / 1952 / Geeta Bali)
Baazi was Navketan's first big hit, and it gave an impetus to the careers of everyone associated with it - Guru Dutt, Geeta Bali, Dev Anand, SD Burman, and Sahir Ludhianvi.
Afsar, though well-received critically had not been a commercial success. The fledgling Navketan banner needed hits if it were to survive. Dev Anand remembered his pledge to Guru Dutt. In his own words*:
He (Guru Dutt) came, lit cigarette in hand, sat in front of me, and I said, 'Before you exhale, hold your breath.' He held his breath and waited. I broke the news. 'Remember, we dreamt a dream together on the hill-top of Poona, looking down at the world?' He nodded, still holding his breath. 'Let the world see our dream now. You are going to direct a film for Navketan.' He let out the smoke in short measured puffs with a broad smile, straight onto my face. I inhaled it, for it smelt of a coming success.
2. Main zindagi ka saath nibhaata chala gaya (Hum Dono / 1961 / Sadhana, Nanda)
According to Devsaab, this was the underlying philosophy of his life. Jo mil gaya usi ko muqaddar samajh liya, jo kho gaya main us ko bhulata chala gaya. That was certainly how he lived his life - always looking forward to what he could do next. He certainly came to be associated with the lyrics, so evocatively written by Sahir Ludhianvi. Main zindagi ka saath nibhaata chala gaya, har fiqr ko dhue mein udaata chala gaya. To him, these lines ring true of 'everyone who believes that life is worth living'.
Hum Dono saw him playing two roles, that of Major Verma and Captain Anand. He based the Major's character on a mustachioed major he had known in the British army cantonment at Kirkee near Poona. The true to life performance drew a perfect compliment from the general officer of the Southern Command in Poona when he was invited to watch the movie. In the middle of a scene involving Major Verma, he spontaeneously burst out "Doesn't he remind you of----?" provoking great hilarity amongst the audience.
Trivia: Hum Dono was India's official entry to the 1962 Berlin Film Festival. Attending the opening day also allowed him to meet one of his idols - James (Jimmy) Stewart.
Kishore Kumar was Dev Anand's voice just as much as Mukesh was Raj Kapoor's. The first song of Kishoreda's career was sung for Dev Anand, in the film Ziddi, which was a milestone in Devsaab's career too. The song was Marne ki duaen kyun mangoon, jeene ki tamanna kaun kare. For Dev Anand, Jeevan ke safar mein rahi will always remain the ode to his deep friendship with his alter ego, who delighted in playing Dev Anand in the recording studio. Aur de jaatein hain yaadein, tanhai mein tadpane ko. These lines could as well stand for how Devsaab's admirers feel today.
4. Hum hain rahi pyar ke (Nau Do Gyarah / 1957 / Kalpana Kartik)
This is another song that exemplifies Devsaab's philosophy of life. Dhoop thi naseeb mein, to dhoop mein liya hai dum, chaandni mili to hum chaandni mein so liye. What a nice way to live life.
5. Hai apna di toh awaara (Solva Saal / 1958 / Waheeda Rehman) 
What is the best way to woo a woman who is in love with another? Well, sing her a song of course. Only, he is not really wooing her; she is eloping with her lover, who prefers her heirloom necklace to her (the man must be blind!). He is a newspaperman who is on the lookout for a story and decides to trust his instincts. Only, he does not bargain for having to look after the girl, go after a necklace, and other shenanigans that are scattered around the pretty well-written screenplay.
The lyrics are so typical of how Dev Anand liked to be perceived. Here he was, romancing the loveliest of ladies on screen; and off-screen, thousands of his female admirers were romancing him!
6. Ye dil na hota bechara (Jewel Thief / 1967 / Tanuja)
Devsaab offered the role of the villain in Jewel Thief to Ashok Kumar, as a way of paying back the latter's generosity in the earlier days of his career. It was more a psychological payback, since Dadamoni had a flourishing career of his own. It did take Goldie some time to get Dadamoni to accept the first negative role of his career.
7. Zindagi hai kya, sun meri jaan (Maya/1961/Mala Sinha) 
Another song with Devsaab wooing his heroine in ways only he could think of - how many heroes would turn into ice-cream vendors for their lady loves? So, he comes, dispersing icecreams to every child in the neighbourhood, even giving them away free to the little ones who do not have the money. Mala Sinha is amused though she doesn't come down to him.
Under the guise of extolling the virtues of icecream, he extols the virtues of the heart he is offering. Could she withstand it?
This song was inspired from the theme music of Charlie Chaplin's Limelight, composed by the great man himself.
8. Sawan ke maheene mein (Sharabi / 1964 / Madhubala)
dekhkar jaam kashmakash me hoon
kya karoon main
jiyoon jiyoon haay na jiyoon
saawan ke maheene mein
ik aag si seene mein
lagti hai to pee leta hoon
do chaar ghadi jee leta hoon
What a good reason to drink! This was probably one of the very few films of Dev Anand's that was scored by Madan Mohan.
9. Tu kahan ye bata (Tere Ghar Ke Saamne / 1963 / Nutan)
10. Abhi na jao chhodkar (Hum Dono / 1962 / Sadhana)
Ke zindagi ke raah mein,
Jawan dilon ki chaah mein, Kai makaam aayenge
Jo humko aazmaayenge...
Abhi na jao chhodkar ke dil abhi bhara nahin... what else can I say? It's what I first felt when I heard that he was no more. It's what I feel now when I write this post, and it's no longer the young handsome Dev Anand I'm thinking about - it's the man as he was in later years, a mere shadow of his virile self physically but with his mind and intellect as keen as always; his charm still intact, with a sense of humour and rapier sharp wit. He knew himself for what he was, and was never in danger of going ga-ga over himself on screen, however egotistic he may have appeared to the world.
He cannot die, because he refused to die, Even in death, he's probably more alive than many of us who are still living. He definitely lived life better than any of us have, or ever will. Full of zest, full of enthusiasm, no regrets. He also went the way he would have wanted to:
I would, when the bell tolled for me, just want to vanish away, like a whiff of air into the breeze that blows, becoming a leaf on a branch that sways, a flicker of the flame of the fire that burns, a drop of water in the stream that flows, a joyful raindrop that bursts out of a cloud, or a particle of shining sand swept into the folds of a playful tide. I would never, never want to be seen dying... or dead. *
I hope his wishes are followed because I cannot imagine him leaving this world any other way.
*From his autobiography Romancing With Life.
