My list of ‘favourite songs’ keeps changing with my mood. And I can make hundreds of lists of such songs – sad songs, romantic ones, duets, party songs, songs of heartbreak, songs of waiting… On the whole however, most of these songs are pleasure to the ears and suffer from a humdrum existence on screen. They are there to provide the mandatory romance, or party scene, and do not seem to stretch the directors any. Not much thought seems to go into really ‘directing’ a song, or even integrating it into the narrative.
I’ve firmly believed that directing a movie, and directing a song sequence are two completely different talents. Out of the many good, even great directors in the Hindi film industry of the 50s and the 60s, there were three directors who, in my opinion, were past masters of the art – Guru Dutt, Raj Kapoor, Vijay Anand (in no particular order). Therefore, it’s no surprise that my list is populated by songs from their films. No one, but no one, visualised a song just like they did. Sets, movement, music, extras, camera angles – all came together on screen to give us some mind-blowing sequences that have weathered the vagaries of time and taste. These are songs that are remembered whenever one talks of the classics.
And so, this list. Of songs that are not so much about exotic locales or heroines’ costumes or even choreographed steps. Of songs remembered as much for, if not more than, the films in which they were taken from.
1. Awaara / 1951 / Raj Kapoor / Shankar-Jaikishen / Tere bina aag yeh chaandni + Ghar aaya mera pardesi
This double-sider is less of a ‘dream’ sequence as it is a nightmare. Raj is torn between his mentor, Jagga, and his love, Rita. He is trapped, as much by his own lies of omission and commission as by his chosen ‘profession’. And his dream / nightmare shows him the fork in the road – on one side, is Rita, high above him, both literally (she is the foster daughter of a wealthy judge) and metaphorically (she stands for redemption); on the other, way below, is Jagga, demonic, and toward the end, towering over everything. It’s heaven and hell, paradise and purgatory, the quest for redemption and the failure thereof.
It’s a director’s vision that enlarges the scope of a double-sided song; it is only with Rita’s help that Raj will be able to escape and she does try; she even comes down from the heavens to lead him out of his misery. Only, Raj finds that Jagga is more powerful – as he looms over them, Raj slips and falls and Rita escapes into the mists. There is no salvation for Raj, no way out of his misery.
This was the first dream sequence picturised in Hindi films. (Richard pointed out (over at Harvey’s blog) that there had been dream sequences before Awaara, but upon searching, all references point to Tere bina aag yeh chaandni being credited as the first dream sequence. So now I'm confused.) The song took three months to shoot, and was almost derailed because Raj Kapoor was not satisfied.
2. Tere Ghar Ke Saamne / 1963 / Vijay Anand / SD Burman / Tere ghar ke saamne
A frothy comedy that paired Dev Anand with his favourite heroine, Nutan for the third time after Paying Guest and Baarish. They were Rakesh and Sulekha. Beleaguered lovers whose fathers are always at each other’s throats. Rakesh is beginning to see Sulekha everywhere, including inside his glass of whiskey. What’s more, she is even singing at him! And shivering when his friend (Rashid Khan) drops in an ice cube, until a besotted Rakesh picks it out.
3. Kaagaz ke Phool / 1959 / Guru Dutt / SD Burman / Waqt ne kiya
*A rejuvenated masterpiece that was a commercial failure when it first released, it was years ahead of its time in the way it was shot. VK Murthy, a Guru Dutt regular was responsible for the play of light and darkness that shadows the film throughout. Waheeda Rehman plays Shanti, ‘discovered’ by film-maker (Guru Dutt) whose fame eclipses that of her mentor. This is at the beginning of their association, however. Suresh (Guru Dutt) has come in to the deserted studio early in the morning. As he walks in, and sits in the director's chair, he hears something clatter behind him. Turning to look, he spots Shanti knitting away. He is amused and curious - why is she here so early? She smiles: so is he. But then, he always comes early, he says, and she nods wisely. She knows. What?, he laughs. Everything, she says. He moves away. She follows. It's a piquant situation. They are both alone in the world. They are attracted to each other. But he is married. She knows that too.
A lone ray of sunshine falls through one of the ventilators and intermittently lights them up as they move back and forth.
A lone ray of sunshine falls through one of the ventilators and intermittently lights them up as they move back and forth.
In VK Murthy’s own words (in a 2004 interview with Rediff.com): “He asked me to use sunlight. So we brought two huge mirrors and kept one outside the studio in the sun, that reflected the light onto another mirror, kept on the catwalk, and opened the balcony door to the studio. Light reflected from one to the other and the beam was created. We added some smoke to it, and that scene became a phenomenal craze in the history of cinematography!”
(*Edited in connection with Harvey's comment below.)
(*Edited in connection with Harvey's comment below.)
4. Bandini / 1963 / Bimal Roy / SD Burman / O maajhi, mera saajan hai us paar
Lovers do part to meet again sometimes. Here, in the climax of the film, a tea-seller is singing a folksong of a woman who is pleading with the boatman to take her to her beloved on the opposite shore. And Kalyani, on the cusp of a new beginning, is conflicted. She has recently met her long-lost love Shekhar (Ashok Kumar) who is now TB-ridden and in need of care. As the song continues, all her doubts and fears dissolve and she turns her back on the young doctor and the promise of a new life, jumping into the ferry as it lifts anchor. The warden who is accompanying her tries to stop her but she is unheeding. And as the song wafts by Mein bandini hoon piya ki, mein sangini hoon saajan ki she the steamer pulls away and only its smoke lingers in the still air. Perfect.
5. Guide / 1965 / Vijay Anand / SD Burman / Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai
Rosie has finally taken her first steps toward freedom, having shaken off the shackles of her suffocating marriage. Suddenly, she doesn’t seem like a middle-aged matron, she seems to be on the cusp of adulthood, with a joie de vivre that had been missing from the dutiful wife. As Raju takes her away, she dances her exhilaration, on the most precarious of ledges even as Raju looks on anxiously . There is an edge to her movements, as she seems to challenges life and death.
6. Shree 420 / 1955 / Raj Kapoor / Shankar-Jaikishen / O jaane wale mudhke dekho zara
This is a song that examines the dichotomy in a woman’s soul – as love wars with a strong morality. Vidya (Nargis) has watched Raj’s (Raj Kapoor) upward rise with dismay as it corresponds with his moral downfall. And now as he comes to her, rich, drunk, morally bereft, she can no longer withstand the call of her own integrity. Broken-hearted at what she sees as his betrayal, she bids him to leave, her self-respect refusing to have anything to do with him as he is. She loves him still, however, and her pain manifests itself in song – look back just once, she pleads, the ghostly twin image in distress, eyes brimming over as she gestures back to her rigid alter-ego, who stands mute.
7. Mughal-e-Azam / 1960 / K Asif / Naushad / Prem jogan ban ke
Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan’s rendition of the semi-classical number plays in the background as Anarkali, drawn by the soulful notes hurries down the corridors of the palace in search of Salim. When she reaches him, she is overcome by shyness and lowers her eyes, only to look up again as Salim caresses her face with a feather. Her eyes are filled with desire, then quickly, she hides her face behind her veil. Not a word of dialogue breaks the tension of the scene as the camera moves to leave the two lovers alone in a quiet cocoon of their own even as Bahaar, beautiful, jealous Bahaar burns inside.
8. Awaara / 1951 / Raj Kapoor / Shankar Jaikishen / Ek do teen aaja mausam hai rangeen
This is not the first time there has been a song set in a bar in Hindi films. This is the first time, though, that the background was captured realistically. Patrons are smoking, playing cards; there’s ribald laughter and raucous remarks, which sometimes drowns out the song. (No one’s sitting at well-laid out tables watching the dancer or even paying attention to the song.) In the dark, smoke-filled room, Cuckoo is sensuous, come-hither, and the object of the patrons’ (drunken) desire.
9. Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam / 1962 / Guru Dutt / Hemant Kumar / Koi door se awaaz de chale aao
The haunting notes trigger the reminiscence after the opening scenes, and cameraman VK Murthy shrouds the screen with his trademark light and shade heightening the effect. This was, in my opinion, the crowning jewel in a score that boasted some wonderful melodies. Koi door se… sets the mood for the turn the story is going to take; its pathos and mysteriousness heighten the suspense: What really happened to Choti Bahu? The song is played in bits and pieces right through the movie until the horrifying denouement.
10. Jaal / 1952 / Guru Dutt / SD Burman / Yeh raat yeh chandni phir kahaan
This would top my list of well-picturised songs. For the absolute simplicity of the picturisation. Two people, a guitar, the beach, a tempest, and Hemantda’s voice. (This song was one of Hemantda’s earliest Hindi successes.) Maria (Geeta Bali) has learnt that Tony (Dev Anand) is not who he purports to be. She is determined to end the relationship. Yet, when she hears him singing, she is drawn to him despite her misgivings. The strong breezes swaying the coconut trees reflect the tumult in Maria’s breast. And it’s interesting that while the song is a male solo, the camera rests lovingly on the heroine’s face, chronicling her inner struggle, and when she finally gives in to his call (Is haseen aag mein tu bhi jal ke dekh le, zindagi ke geet ki dhun tu badalke dekh le, sun le ab dil ki dhadkano ki zubaan, sun jaa dil ki dastaan) , the tempest outside is nothing compared to her turmoil. It’s a masterful depiction of sexual awakening with nary a hint of vulgarity.
