HE was a young man. He shouldn’t have made such depressing films,’ said another ‘young’ man of eighty-six in 2009, referring to his friend who had passed away at the age of thirty-nine.
‘Jaane woh kaise’ is the only number in Pyaasa sung by Hemant Kumar. In fact, Hemant Kumar had to gently remind composer S.D. Burman that the latter had not delivered on his promise of one playback song every year for the singer. One of the things that stand out in this song is the aching frailty of Hemant’s rendition. Hemant, in any case, was never a ‘forceful’ singer, and was at his best in conveying the sublime, the ethereal, which is why it is impossible to think of anyone else singing that most sublime of numbers, ‘Tum pukar lo’ (Khamoshi, 1970).
The understated emotion so characteristic of ‘Jaane woh kaise’ may have been a carry-over of Hemant Kumar’s grounding in Rabindra Sangeet (Hemant was one of the finest exponents of Rabindra Sangeet, along with Pankaj Kumar Mallick, Debabrata Biswas and Sagar Sen). Rabindra Sangeet requires the singer to align his thought process to Tagore’s poetry, it demands an innate understanding of the words.
Apart from his own compositions, his playback numbers like ‘Na tum hamey jano’ (Baat Ek Raat Ki, 1962) and ‘Ganga aaye kahaan se’ (Kabuliwala, 1962) seem to connect with his basic pathos somewhere deeper. He compensated for his Bengali pronunciation with the depth of his voice. Hemant was at his melodious best when he was personally convinced about the song. As was true with ‘Jaane woh kaise’. Hemant seemed completely convinced about what the song, or rather, what Sahir Ludhianvi had to say!
Guru Dutt believed in using minimal instrumental pieces in songs, and ‘Jaane woh kaise’ does not have a prelude. As is the case with the other songs in Pyaasa (except ‘Sar jo tera chakraye’ and ‘Hum aapki ankhon mein’), background music in the song is sparse. All that is heard are piano notes and mild strains of the organ, with the minimal engagement of instruments allowing the voice to soar. The piano notes are prominent but the instrument is surprisingly nowhere in sight. Did Dutt mean to show a piano in the sequence or was Burman-da given to believe that there would be one?
The run-up to ‘Jaane woh kaise’ is a character’s comment on contemporary poetry that was escapist in nature, rambling about heady romance and inebriation, skirting real issues. One also finds poets Majaaz Lucknawi and Jigar Moradabadi being impersonated during this sequence. The socialites have assembled for a party at the bungalow of leading publisher Mr Ghosh. They respond to popular, easily understood shayari that compares a woman’s beauty to jaam. They waah-waah raucously.
Then a couplet floats across the grand furniture: ‘Jaane woh kaise log they jinke pyar ko pyar mila.’ Guru Dutt is seen leaning against the bookshelf, his hands stretched, a wry smile playing on his lips even though he is in pain. The spontaneity of Vijay’s anguish may also have been the result of seeing his one-time beloved Meena (played by Mala Sinha, a role for which Guru Dutt’s original choice was Madhubala) as the wife of his employer, the wealthy Mr Ghosh.
During the third antara of ‘Jaane woh kaise’, Meena quietly slips away to the adjoining dining hall to hide her tears. The song skips back and forth across three or four notes, keeping the melody simple on the saptaswar of Raag Bilawal on which the original (‘Jana gana mana’) was based; except in the verse ‘Bichhad gaya … bichhad gaya har saathi de kar’.
Guru Dutt’s picturization of the songs of Pyaasa is one of the high points of Indian cinema. The posture used by Guru in the song would again be seen in the climactic song ‘Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye toh kya hai’. His posture framed by backlighting gave his silhouette the look that one suspects he precisely wanted: that of Christ.
Despite its success, ‘Jaane woh kaise’ was the last work of the S.D. Burman and Sahir duo. The temperamental lyricist and the finicky composer never worked together again.