Shammi Kapoor - Romantic Moods

When listing songs for my post on Rafi’s love songs, I found that my initial list had so many songs picturised on Shammi Kapoor. I had to diligently weed them out to get songs featuring other heroes on the list. But they were too good to not post, so I decided to myself that I would eventually write a post on Shammi Kapoor in various romantic moods. Friend and long-time blog reader, Madhulika of Dustedoff, gave me the impetus by enthusiastically seconding the idea.

Years ago, I’d posted a list of Dev Anand’s romantic moods. Though he did not play a pure romantic hero in most of his films, Dev could – and did – charm many a heroine on screen. Shammi Kapoor, however, was the quintessential romantic hero. He chased, wooed, and charmed his heroines across the hills and valleys of different hill stations. And in his prime, there was an animal grace and magnetism about the man that had women swooning over him, both onscreen and off.

My Favourites: Radio Songs

Source: Hindustan Times

Does anyone listen to the radio any more? Or am I dating myself when I talk of radios and transistors and cassette recorders to a generation growing up on MP3 and MP4 (and various other acronyms that make no sense to me at all)? I have lovely memories of growing up to songs on the radio. It was always on when my father was home – either for the various Hindi film music song programmes on Vividh Bharati and Radio Ceylon or for the news. [I wrote about the radio and its connection to my father here.]

It was these programmes – Manoranjan, Aap ki Farmaaish (Fauji bhaaiyon ke liye), Bhoole Bisre Geet and Jayamala (with Sunday afternoons bringing Vishesh Jayamala) and their ilk – that introduced me to Hindi film music, and to Ameen Sayani, the late host of the long-running (nearly 51 years – with a hiatus in between – and over 2200 programmes) Binaca Geetmala. These programmes also introduced me to ‘Jhumri Thalaiyaa’ – a place whose residents seemed obsessed with Hindi film songs. At least, it appeared so. Every song I listened to seemed to have been requested by a resident of that place. (For those interested, Jhumri Thalaiyya is in present-day Jharkhand.)  

Perhaps it’s nostalgia, but I’ve been thinking of writing a post on ‘radio songs’ for some time now. Typically, the context for such songs in films is that either the hero or the heroine is a singer. If it is a joyous song, it is usually to introduce the character. When the lovers separate, as lovers do in Hindi cinema, the radio becomes the means for them to get back together. Since the person listening to the song cannot see the singer on a radio, such radio songs were almost always ‘studio’ songs – the picturisation would inevitably show the singer in the studio and the listener with a radio prominently displayed. It always intrigued me how the separated lover puts the radio on at just the right moment and manages to get a clear reception with no static whatsoever.

Muqaddar ka Sikandar (1978)

Directed by: Prakash Mehra
Music: Kalyanji-Anandji
Lyrics: Anjaan, Prakash Mehra
Starring: Amitabh Bachchan, Rekha,
Vinod Khanna, Raakhee,
Amjad Khan, Ram Sethi,
Nirupa Roy, Sulochana,
Ranjeet, Kader Khan,
Dr Shreeram Lagoo, Yusuf Khan,
Master Mayur

Some time ago, I wrote a post on Hindi films that I wanted to revise. Every revision I tried for Muqaddar ka Sikandar ended with everyone but Zohra Bai dying. Blog reader Subodh was appalled that I believed in mass slaughter. In my defence, I did watch the film again. This time, with my partner-in-crime, Shalini. Read on to find out if we changed our opinions. 

Warning: Do expect long comments.

Asha Sings for OP Nayyar

A colleague recently quipped that communication and content are a co-creative and collaborative process. Nowhere does this hold truer than in the making of a film – the symbiotic relationship between the various departments – script, screenplay, direction, acting, cinematography, music, dance, editing (amongst others) – play a role not only in what happens between ‘Action’ and ‘Cut’, but precede and succeed these. This holds true of music as well – music composer Khayyam generously said (when praised for his score in a film) that if it weren’t for the lyricists who added the magic of their words to give voice to his compositions; the musicians who brought those compositions to life, the arrangers who arranged the music, and the singers who voiced the whole, no one would know his music. His humility does him credit, but in stating this objective truth, the veteran composer also emphasised the foundation of any collaborative creation – the necessity of the collaborators to be on the same wavelength.

North by Northwest (1959)

Directed by: Alfred Hitchcock
Written by: Ernest Lehman
Music: Bernard Herrmann
Starring: Cary Grant, Eva Mary Saint,
James Mason, Martin Landau,
Jessie Royce Landis, Leo G Carroll

“I’ve always wanted to do a chase sequence across the faces of Mount Rushmore,” said Alfred Hitchcock in 1957. That, and his (and screen writer Ernest Lehman’s) aversion to developing the story they had actually committed to (The Wreck of Mary Deare), resulted in the brilliant fluke known to the world as North by Northwest.  

A Hitchcock scholar once categorised the film as “a comic thriller about mistaken identity, political depravity, sexual blackmail and ubiquitous role-playing.” In a later interview with director Peter Bogdanovich in 1963, Hitchcock explained that the film was a fantasy. “The whole film is epitomised in the title,” he noted. “There’s no such thing as north-by-northwest on the compass.” 

Maybe so, but today, on Cary Grant's – one of my favourite actors – 121st birthday, a look at one of his iconic films, a collaboration with a man who once declared that "Knowing Cary is the greatest association I've had  with any film actor. Cary is the only actor I ever loved in my whole life."

The Masters: MT Vasudevan Nair

15.04.1933-25.12.2024

I began ‘The Masters’ series in a bid to shine the spotlight on the people behind the camera – the directors, cinematographers, composers, lyricists, etc., who collaborate to make a film what it is. I have mostly featured directors, composers and lyricists, with an odd nod to a cinematographer. In all these years, I have never written a post about writers who write the story and/or script on which these films are based. A script is the foundation stone upon which a film rests; take that away and you’re left with nothing at all. 

How many scriptwriters can you name? Until Salim-Javed fought for much-delayed recognition for their craft, the posters of Hindi films never mentioned the scriptwriter. The name of the actors, the director, the producer, even the music director perhaps, but never that of the person who wrote the story which others would bring alive on screen.

My Favourites: Songs of Farewell

2024 ended on a horrible note for us here in the US and the repercussions will continue to reverberate for the next four years or more. But in the context of this blog which usually eschews politics (though my political bearings influence my writing) let me take a moment to remember the great many luminaries from the arts: literature, music, movies, radio – Ameen Sayani, Kumar Shahani, Shyam Benegal, Pankaj Udhas, Zakir Hussain, MT Vasudevan Nair, Bapsi Sidhwa, etc., whom we lost this year.

However, this is a new year, and hopefully, a new beginning (redundant, I know).  I am grateful to the readers who still read my posts, old and new. Without you, there wouldn't be a blog. So, a wish for a very Happy New Year, from me and mine, to you and yours. May the world be a happier place, may there be less strife. May we be compassionate and kind and share laughter and happiness.

Love Songs – Mohammed Rafi

Pic: Courtesy: Pinterest/Ravinder Singh Thakur

When Mohammed Rafi passed away on 31 July 1980, even the skies wept. The outpouring of grief that accompanied his funeral cortège was not just because of a legendary singer's untimely death, but because the man who died had been, above all, a good human being. The legacy that Rafi leaves behind is not only his immense body of work – which continue to enthral us – but also the shared memories, narrated by those who knew him well.
 

Teesri Kasam (1966)

Directed by: Basu Bhattacharya
Music: Shankar-Jaikishan
Lyrics: Shailendra, Hasrat Jaipuri
Starring: Raj Kapoor, Waheeda Rehman,
Iftekhar, Krishan Dhawan,
Dulari, Asit Sen, CS Dubey

When we first see Hirabai (Waheeda Rehman), it is through Hiraman’s (Raj Kapoor) eyes. She’s asleep and he hesitantly peeks through the curtain that separates them, not having seen who his passenger is. 

Hiraman, viewing her beauteous countenance, spontaneously blurts out, “Abe, ye to pari hai!” (“She’s a fairy!”) 

The A-Z of Mohammed Rafi

Pic: Courtesy - Timeless Indian Melodies
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When you think of Hindi film songs, you cannot not think of Mohammed Rafi. In his three-decades-plus career, Rafi sang for almost every hero across generations, modulating his voice to suit each of them so that it almost sounded like they were singing. You could make out a Bharat Bhushan song from one that he sang for Rajendra Kumar; he sounded different for Dev Anand than for Dilip Kumar. He had a ‘special’ voice for Johnny Walker. And he was attuned to Shammi Kapoor for whom Rafi was his soul. [Interesting enough, I came across a song in which Rafi lent his voice to at least 10 actors on screen - B.A., M.A., PhD. ye diploma ye degree from an obscure film called Badnam Farishte (1971)].
 
Mohammed Rafi is my favourite male singer. I have written extensively about him on my blog – here, here, here, and here. What’s more, he’s always present on most of my themed lists. It is impossible to pick my ‘favourite Rafi songs’ – there are too many to count, and I have different ‘favourites’ at different times. So what could I do to celebrate the birth centenary of my favourite singer?