Happy Birthday, Raj Kapoor

14.12.1924 - 02.06.1988

*Warning* Long post ahead.

I grew up surrounded by movies, by music (and books), and my father not only took us to the movies regularly, he was happy to do so. Even as I formed a deep abiding love for Amitabh Bachchan, the first man I fell in love with, and had a slight pang when I saw Aamir Khan in Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, I still drooled over Raj Kapoor in Chori Chori, Shammi Kapoor in Junglee, Dev Anand in C.I.D, and Dilip Kumar in Kohinoor.

When television made its presence felt in our house in my teens, films came home. They didn't have the magic that a dark theatre lit only by the projector, dust motes dancing in those weird bluish-yellow beams of light, bestowed on even the most vapid of films. There is something intimate about being alone in a crowd in a darkened theatre; it's easier to lose yourself in what is shown on screen, easier to imagine yourself part of the story, one of the characters in the film. Even popcorn (or better still, samosas / bajiyas) made its way into our mouths sub-consciously. What was happening onscreen was infinitely more interesting. I devoured movies and I cannot say that the advent of the television made any impact on our trips to the theatres. 

Doordarshan seemed to stick to showing us Sikander-e-Azam and Dr Kotnis Ki Amar Kahani other than the usual 60s and 70s fare, so if I wanted to watch my heroes from the decades in between, I still needed to find re-runs. I think I must have watched every movie that played in the ramshackle BR Theatres in Bangalore, the only theatre in the Cantonment area that showed old Hindi films regularly.  

My sister and I watched Madhumati there - we reached half an hour before the show was to start, sure that we could walk in and choose where to sit. We managed to get the last two tickets, and watched Dilip Kumar and Vyjayanthimala from up close, real close. The aisle seats in the first row. One and a half seats, I must add, since one seat was eaten up by I shudder to think what. 

The row behind us was filled with a gaggle of burkha-clad women with their sole male escort, and I could only think of that the scene in Amar Akbar Anthony where Mukri comes along with his wives and daughter(s?) to Akbar's qawwali programme; their appreciation for what was happening on screen was very loud. They clapped every time Dilip Kumar opened his mouth, and sang loudly (and badly) along with all the songs to the accompaniment of even more hand-clapping. Coupled with having to crane our necks in a decidedly unnatural fashion to be able to see anything, I have to confess that that was definitely not an unqualified success. We came out of that show with strained necks, deafened ears, splitting headaches, and my sister walked with a limp the rest of the week (yours truly having informed her that since she was the one who wanted to see Dilip Kumar, she got to sit on the half-eaten seat).

However, I digress. BR Theatres showed old Hindi films; and my father dragged me along to see all of the RK ones. Well, 'dragged' being said for effect; I was his willing partner-in-crime. We definitely watched the RK movies in better seats (and sometimes, better theatres) than we did Madhumati. So I watched Aag and Barsaat, Awaara and Shree 420, Anari and Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai. I cried through Aah even though even the teenage me felt like smacking Vijaylakshmi for not writing to Raj Kapoor, and Raj Kapoor for being so wimpy and self-sacrificing (teenage me was still a feminist); and wished fervently through Teesri Kasam that Heerabai would stay with her meeta, even though I knew that that would not make sense at all.

I watched Jagte Raho in awe, even though I did not understand much of the sub-text until I rewatched it much later in life; and I hated Raj Kapoor in Andaz and Sangam, for completely different reasons. It took an older me to realise that it was Raj Kapoor's slipping into the role so completely that made Andaaz's Rajan so unlikeable; or that Sangam's Gopal was irritating only in the first half, and that the second part where Gopal deteriorates into his own insecurities and jealousies was a class act. It also takes a confident director (and actor) to allow his co-stars the space in which to perform, and to walk away with audience sympathies (both Vyjayanthimala and Rajendra Kumar had the bulk of the audience sympathy in Sangam).

As you can see, Raj Kapoor is a name that has influenced much of my childhood. I continue to find his films interesting, for the diverse themes he tackled; for their fantastic music, which owed as much to his influence as it did to his music directors, and their arrangers; for the unselfishness with which he detailed his characters, giving them space to live and breathe. He is one of the few directors who paid great attention to even the minor characters in his script; often, they became as well-etched in memory as the leads.

I had done an earlier post on him, which had mixed reactions. The world seems to be divided into Raj Kapoor lovers and those who hate him. The former, which includes me, do not really have any reasons or justifications why we love him; we just do. The latter include some people who are willing to admit that he was 'good in a few films' and can even be brought around to the view that he was a great director (*sometimes*), but are mostly made up of people who cannot stand him at any length. Unlike the former, they have lots of reasons or simply even one to offer - they do not like his tramp persona. Fair enough. 

But this is a post from a person who unabashedly loves him and is happy to pay her tributes to a man who has given her countless hours of entertainment. For all those happy hours spent in darkened theatres, for all the stories that caught, and held, my interest, for all the songs that still fill my ears with their melodies, for all the times I have laughed and cried with his character on screen - I have an eternal gratitude. Raj Kapoor taught me to appreciate movies. 

Since I was laid low with the 'flu when his birthday came and went, here's a belated post to wish Indian cinema's eternal tramp a happy birthday. Twelve songs, some solo, some romantic, some sad, all melodious...

1. Tara ri a ra ri*  
Dastan (1950) with Suraiyya 

Singers: Mohammed Rafi, Suraiyya 
Music: Naushad 
Lyrics: Shakeel Badayuni

  

An orphaned girl in love with the son of the house. Interestingly, he returns her love (and so does his brother, and someone else too - it gets very convoluted). The spoke in the wheel is the hero's sister who has no time for orphans and less for anyone's happiness. In the meantime, the lovebirds do manage to sing quite a few duets, and Raj Kapoor also dances the Salsa. In this one, though, a lilting duet, he's waltzing, with far more grace than poor Suraiyya. (Is that why they stationed her at the piano while Raj did the dancing in the movie?) Lovely song, painful movie. (And how often have we heard that?)

*edited after pacifist's correction to the lyrics.

2. Khayalon mein kisi ke   
Baawre Nain (1950) with Geeta Bali, Vijayalakshmi 
Singers: Geeta Dutt, Mukesh 
Music: Roshan 
Lyrics: Kidar Sharma

  

What do you do when the man you love is in lost in thoughts of someone else? Why, sing a song of course, extolling how much you love him. Also, don't pay any attention to what he is telling you while you are doing so -  

Muhabbat ka sabak seekho, ye jaakar jalnewaalon se
Ke dil ki baat bhi lab tak kabhi laayaa nahin karte
Jo thukraaye gaye ho unko thukraaya nahin karte 

And then you complain that it's a tragedy? 

This was an important film for Roshan whose debut film as music director had flopped. He came up trumps with some wonderful songs for this film including the more popular Teri duniya mein dil lagta nahin.

3. Dum bhar jo idhar munh phero  
Awaara (1951) with Nargis 
Singers: Mukesh, Lata Mangeshkar 
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen 
Lyrics: Shailendra

One cannot speak of Raj Kapoor without also mentioning Nargis. She was, for a time, enshrined as one part of the symbol of RK - the woman, half swooning in the arms of her violin-playing lover. Much has been written about their ill-fated romance, but while it lasted, they gave us one of our lasting screen pairs. Together, they scorched the screen, and never more so than in this song, one of the most sensuous songs ever in Hindi films. Everything about this song - lyrics, music, picturisation - is perfect. If love encompasses passion, then it would be like this.
4. Pyar hua ikraar hua  
Shree 420 (1955) with Nargis 
Singers: Manna Dey, Lata Mangeshkar 
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen 
Lyrics: Shailendra

I often wonder whether Nargis thought that the lyrics she was mouthing were prophetic - think of Kehta hai dil rasta mushkil maloom nahin kahan manzil or even Hum na rahenge, tum na rahoge, phir bhi rahenge nishaaniyan... there's no doubting that she seems to mean every word of what she is singing (or she is a better actress than I've given her credit for being).

5. Yeh raat bheegi bheegi  
Chori Chori (1956) with Nargis 
Singers: Manna Dey, Lata Mangeshkar 
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen 
Lyrics: Shailendra

Mukesh may have been Raj Kapoor's soul but there were other singers who sang who were equally (if not more) effective in giving voice to his emotions. Chori Chori is choc-a-bloc with some wonderfully evocative Manna Dey numbers. This song is a particular favourite of mine for its hint at suppressed passions, its sweet response to a wistful plaint. 

She is an heiress, he is a down-on-his-luck newspaper reporter; she is running off to marry the man (she thought) she loves, he's aiding and abetting her escape so he can have full rights to the story. Inadvertently, inexplicably, irrevocably, they are drawn to each other. He's fighting his emotions, she has no such qualms. He is more man of the world and knows that he's wishing for the moon, but who can resist such a response?Aaja sanam madhur chaandni mein hum (from the same film) is even more piquant. Especially considering this was Nargis' last appearance as Raj Kapoor's leading lady.

6. Phir na kije meri gustakh nigaah ka gila  
Phir Subah Hogi (1958) with Mala Sinha 
Singers: Mukesh, Asha Bhonsle  
Music: Khayyam 
Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi

A beautifully picturised sequence, and the few glimpses of lightness in an otherwise sombre film (loosely based on Crime and Punishment). The lead up to the song is equally good, with Ram (RK) reciting poetry to two children, with Sohni listening. Each word he says seems heavy with meaning, and their gazes lock, look away, lock again. As he continues to recite, she dreams, as girls do, of her love for him, of his, for her... it's a more innocent time.

7. Masti bhara hai sama 
Parvarish (1958) with Mala Sinha 
Singers: Lata Mangeshkar, Manna Dey 
Music: Datta Ram 
Lyrics: Hasrat Jaipuri

Watch this for the playful exuberance of love, and the amazing chemistry between the leads. While Mala Sinha does not rank among one of my favourite heroines, she captures that elusive whiff of romance very well; the joy, the shyness, even the fear. Raj Kapoor matches her, the playfulness giving way to a sudden glimpse of passion, though it's brought under control the next minute. Lovely.

8. Dil ki nazar se  
Anari (1959) with Nutan 
Singers: Lata Mangeshkar, Mukesh 
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen 
Lyrics: Shailendra

One of my favourite numbers from a film that boasted of so many. This song is a quieter expression of love; there's such respect in the way he looks at her, such devotion in the manner he speaks of his love. Add Nutan's luminosity to the mix and you can understand why. Contrast this with the other love duet in this film where she is teasing him with her love. Both wonderful songs, with such contrasting shades of the same emotion. Sheer magic.

9. Bikhraake zulfein chaman mein na jaana 
Nazrana (1961) with Vyjayanthimala 
Singers: Mukesh, Lata Mangeshkar 
Music: Ravi 
Lyrics: Rajinder Kishen

A remake of a Tamil film called Kalyana Parisu starring Gemini Ganesan, Nazrana was a melodrama with sisters Vyjayanthimala and Usha Kiron falling in love with Raj Kapoor. Many tears and (unnecessary) sacrifices later, the film unwinds to an equally unnecessary tragic end. Avoid. Listen to Ravi's beautiful compositions instead. 

10. Sajanva bairi ho gaye hamar 
Teesri Kasam (1967) with Waheeda Rehman 
Singer: Mukesh 
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen 
Lyrics: Shailendra

A lyrical lovestory between a rustic cartdriver and his comparatively sophisticated dancer-passenger, Teesri Kasam held off on almost all the clichés that could have been used. There's no happy ending, not in the accepted sense of the word. There isn't even the usual 'love' in the accepted sense of the word. But the songs more than made up for the restraint in emotion. This is but one of the many melodious songs that SJ composed for this film; and the folk tunes were perfect.

For a man who celebrated romance, Raj Kapoor didn't sing very many 'love duets' onscreen. His lovesongs were mostly sung by the women or the second hero - Rajendra Kumar in Sangam, for instance, or Dilip Kumar in Andaz. Even Premnath got to dance to Patli kamar hai in Barsaat.  He had many solos - sad ones, satiritcal ones, philosophical ones. I cannot end this post without two of my favourite Raj Kapoor solos:

Dil ka haal sune dilwala  
Shree 420 (1955) 
Singer: Manna Dey 
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen 
Lyrics: Hasrat Jaipuri*

It looked like everyone was having fun with this song: Hasrat Jaipuri with the lyrics, Manna Dey while singing, and Raj Kapoor while shooting. While the scene itself is played for laughs, there is so much truth in the lyrics that the satire pulls the narrative along. Of course, that was always expected in an RK movie, but still, it's worth mentioning. Beautiful.

*I have seen both Hasrat and Shailendra credited for this song. So, if anyone can shine a light on the matter, it would be truly appreciated.

Jaane kahaan gaye woh din Mera Naam Joker (1970) Singer: Mukesh Music: Shankar-Jaikishen Lyrics: Hasrat Jaipuri

The story of a clown who entertains even while crying inside, Mera Naam Joker took a whopping six years to hit the screen and was released with two intervals. Raj Kapoor invested much of his personal fortune in its making and was devastated when it flopped. (Personal opinion? He needed someone other than Padmini in the third section if he wanted audiences to buy into the girl-dressed-as-boy angle. Padmini was too old and too well-endowed to fit into that role.) Based on a story by KA Abbas, the first part of the film was scripted by Manoj Kumar. This song was only the tip of a score that comprised such wonderful numbers as Jeena yahan marna yahan, Kal khel mein hum ho na ho, and  Daag na lag jaaye kahin, amongst others.

So, to the original (and in my opinion, only) showman in Hindi cinema, a very belated Happy Birthday!

Related Posts:

The Greats: Raj Kapoor