THERE was a time, especially in the 1950s, when soft romantic duets were a film’s selling proposition. A lot would be conveyed through poetry and melody coming together to express a certain sentiment, which was otherwise difficult to show on screen, given the limitations imposed by societal norms and, more importantly, by the censors. By the 1970s, the notions of romance changed, as did the modes of poetic expression. If the ’50s celebrated a rain-soaked heroine with the divine ‘Zindagi bhar nahin bhoolegi woh barsaat ki raat’, now it was ‘Abke saawan mein jee dare, Rimjhim tan pe paani gire’. If at one time the leading man implored ‘Abhi na jao chhorkar ke dil abhi bhara nahin’, now it was a more matter-of-fact ‘Achha toh hum chalte hai’.

There was, however, a select breed of lyricists who continued to pen songs that retained the purity of language and expression, a hallmark of the previous two decades. Gulzar, the leading light of this new brigade right through the ’70s and the abysmal ’80s, set a benchmark for song-writing in Hindi cinema. Few films epitomized this better than Aandhi, which released in the same year as Sholay and Deewar.
Unlike the standard Hindi film of the era, the protagonists of Aandhi are not young. This is a mature love story between individuals who have gracefully crossed the youth and are now into mid-life. Most importantly, the songs were not escape routes to a world that had no semblance to reality. Aandhi gave us three of the most wholesome Lata–Kishore duets ever. The songs also have a lot of history to them, especially the more celebrated ‘Iss mod se jate hain’ and ‘Tere bina zindagi se koi’.

Gulzar has this to say about ‘Iss mod se jate hain’: ‘The poem came first. The first line was from a poem of mine. Pancham composed the whole tune from that line. The tune was composed in Film Centre.’ Incidentally, the song also brought to light Pancham’s rather rudimentary knowledge of Urdu, or the lack thereof. During the composition of the song, Pancham asked his film-maker friend, ‘Yaar, where is this place Nasheman?’

‘Gouri Prasanna Majumdar and Pancham were composing the Bangla song, “Jete jete pothe holo deri”’, continues Gulzar. ‘I had gone to meet Pancham about a tune for a situation in my film. As soon as I heard it, I felt it could be used. And the tune became “Tere bina zindagi se”. Gouri was writing this song. Pancham was elated. Two birds with one stone!’ ‘Tere bina zindagi se’ has perhaps the highest number of YouTube hits for a retro song of all times.

Unfortunately, unlike its more celebrated counterparts, there are few interesting stories on record behind the creation of ‘Tum aa gaye ho’. This rather storyless song bears the unmistakeable stamp of the Pancham–Gulzar magic. Contrary to the soft, delicate, enunciation by male singers in romantic numbers in the 1950s and ’60s, Kishore delivers his lines in an almost boisterous manner. His tone is firm, full-bodied, deep and powerful. The sax filler between the mukhra and the first antara has a ballroom resonance about it and the song could well pass off as a club song. The boisterous manner in which Kishore delivers his lines, the additional harkats by Lata, the sax joiner between the mukhra and the first antara etc., are what lend the song its vibrant colour and energy of a much-in-love couple, setting up the sharply contrasting pain to follow as they separate.

Perhaps keeping this in mind, Pancham uses the minor scale, creating a foreboding of the suffering that is to unfold. His composition is direct and unadorned, yet resonating and unassumingly passionate. He also uses a big violin ensemble which acts like a soothing filler as Sanjeev Kumar and Suchitra Sen take a stroll with Kashmir in the background.

Gulzar says, ‘The first line of the song was shot in a small garden behind the Oberoi Hotel from where Dal Lake is visible. There is an old monument in which Sanjeev speaks about “twelve years”. The rest of the song was shot in Shalimar Baug. There was a lot of bonhomie on the sets of Aandhi when it was being crafted. Suchitra-ji was also keen to work with Sanjeev. The relation between Sanjeev, who I dedicated the film to, and Suchitra [we used to address each other as “sir”] was very cordial. They were both “badmash”. They used to keep teasing each other.’

Aandhi marked the most important phase of the Gulzar– Pancham partnership, which had begun with Parichay (1972) three years ago. Khushboo (1975), Kinara (1977), Kitaab (1977), Namkeen (1982), Angur (1982), Libaas (1988) and Ijaazat (1987) soon followed. There were films like Ghar (1978) and Gol Maal(1979), among others, which saw them pair up as lyricist– composer.

Sitting in his study in ‘Boskyana’, his residence in Pali Hill, one breezy afternoon, Gulzar remembers, ‘Another colleague (apart from Sanjeev Kumar) I dedicated the film to was Pancham.’ It is obvious that he misses them.