Songs have a unique place in Indian culture. Be it the morning bhajans and azans, to the tunes the milkman and the newspaperwala arriving at our doorsteps whistle, to what we hum while performing all the household chores, to the lullabies we sing to our children at night – there is a place for poetry and music in all facets of our everyday life. India has a very interesting grounding historically for various forms of songs and poetry, be it through oral narratives or through folk traditions. If there are harvest songs, there are also those meant not only for joyous occasions like weddings, but also for mourning. Any cultural or religious activity in India is replete with poetry and music.
This is the reason why music and poetry have been an integral part of the Hindustani film industry right from the beginning. Alam Ara (1931), the first talkie, had seven songs, but Shirin Farhad (1932) was a musical, and Indrasabha, which released the same year had seventy-two songs, as forms of verses woven into the narrative! It was in 1935 that Nitin Bose and his brother Mukul Bose along with music composer R.C. Boral introduced pre-recorded singing. This was a major landmark for Hindustani cinema. However, the songs still remained based in folklore from Bengal, Maharashtra and Punjab. It was nearly after a decade that the classical forms crept in. Consequently, as the Hindustani film industry developed, so did the music industry. One could see the growth and Western influence, especially of pop and rock music, become more obvious and prominent. As Ashok Da. Ranade says, ‘The films became prominent in liberating film music from the grip of music rooted in “classical” musical traditions – whether religion oriented or theatre-influenced.’29
With each passing year, the importance of songs in Hindustani cinema increased and in 1949, for the first time, songs were not only recorded but also released as LPs for consumption before the films premiered.30 Lalitha Gopalan in the essay, ‘Hum Aapke Hain Koun? – Cinephilia and Indian Films’ writes of the importance of songs and dance sequences in Indian films and how in the early years of Indian cinema, songs were a key component in helping to promote the film.31 This holds true even today, as the music gets released before the film’s release, with the aim to cash in on the latter’s popularity.
It is also true that songs in Hindustani cinema are criticized for just ‘being there’ and not providing any value addition to the core story. However, this is not the case with Aandhi. The music of the film had the opposite effect: Aandhi is remembered for its songs.
Anil Zankar, in Mughal-e-Azam: Legend as Epic, writes: ‘For songs to be an integral part of the film narrative, they have to be an essential and well-defined part of the script.’32 This description holds completely true for Aandhi.
Undoubtedly, Aandhi’s music is its strength and proves that one cannot deny the importance of music in Indian cinema. Meghnad Desai says, ‘Music is almost unfailingly the key to any Hindustani film being a hit or not … the golden era of film melodies, the 1950s, was full of films with no storyline to speak of, or any pretensions to cinematic excellence, just a handful of evergreen numbers around which the protagonists sang and danced.’33 For Aandhi, Gulzar roped in R.D. Burman, with whom he already had a successful association. Burman, also known as Pancham, brought about a change to Hindustani cinema at a time when it was most desired. The Gulzar–RD partnership is noteworthy on several counts.
The first film that they did together was Parichay. They complemented each other’s talents very well and went on to create magic in several films, namely Ijaazat, Parichay, Kinara, Khushboo, Namkeen, Kitaab, Angoor, Libaas, Doosri Sita, Basera, Jeeva, Sitara, Ghar, Masoom, Devata, Khubsoorat and Gol Maal among many others.
Pancham began his career when he assisted his father, music composer S.D. Burman, in Chhote Nawab (1961). Ganesh Anantharaman, in Bollywood Melodies: A History of Hindi Film Songs, talks of this change that R.D. Burman brought about: ‘He most successfully Indianized pop and jazz for Hindi films.’34 Anantharaman adds, ‘If Pankaj Mullick brought Rabindra Sangeet into films, Naushad Hindustani classical, Madan Mohan ghazals, [then] R.D. Burman pop and jazz.’35 This was the beginning of his career when he gave hits like ‘Aaja aaja, main hoon pyar tera’ (Come to me, I am your love) for Teesri Manzil (1966), ‘Piya tu, ab to aaja’ (You are my love, oh do come to me) for Caravan (1971) and ‘Dum maro dum’ (Take a puff) for Hare Rama Hare Krishna (1971). Such music shaped his image and the masses would associate songs that rhythm, pop and jazz with R.D. Burman. But it was the same person who also gave music to films like Amar Prem (1972), Ghar (1978), Gol Maal (1979) and Khoobsurat (1980), where the songs were slow-paced and mellow. His soundtrack for Padosan (1968) needs a special mention as the variety he brought in for songs like ‘Kehna hai’ (I have to express), ‘Mere saamne wali khidki mein’ (In the window opposite my house),
‘Ek chatur naar’ (A cunning man) and ‘Meri pyari Bindu’
(My dear Bindu), seamlessly blend classical with contemporary music. Anantharaman wrote, ‘It was only in Gulzar’s films that RD managed to bridge the dichotomy between class appeal and mass adulation … such was the tuning between the two that they often instinctively understood what the other wanted. Hence, RD could soar high without any constraints...’36
Anirudha Bhattacharjee and Balaji Vittal, in their book R.D. Burman: The Man, The Music, write that the music of Aandhi ‘is the result of a symbiosis of the best of both Pancham’s and Gulzar’s worlds’.37 Many a time, it is the combination of the poet and the music director that does wonders, writes Ashok Da. Ranade in his book Hindi Film Song: Music Beyond Boundaries: ‘His duets for Lata and compositions for Gulzar’s lyrics stand out as a representative of a mastery of a musical idiom which was essentially tender.’38 These words sum up R.D. Burman’s craftsmanship in Aandhi.
The film had three romantic songs and a qawwali which was a satire on the political situation of the country and the attitude that its politicians had towards the nation.39 The songs too, are as finely structured as the screenplay, and depict Gulzar’s skills and craftsmanship. Each song takes us deep inside the characters’ emotions and inner turmoil and it is this quality that elevates these songs from being mere ‘fillers’ in the story. Even though Aandhi is a film involving themes of politics, love and the changing nature of relationships, it is its songs that bind the film together, filling up all cinematic gaps to ensure a seamless narrative. All the four songs of the film were successful in creating the emotional intensity that the story demanded and Gulzar desired.
The three romantic songs of the film, sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Kishore Kumar, portray three different stages in the life of the couple and their complex relationship. If ‘Iss mod se jaate hain’ (We cross this path) is at the beginning of their courtship, ‘Tum aa gaye ho, noor aa gaya hai’ (Your arrival has brightened my life) is when they have moved to the next stage of romance and are contemplating marriage. And finally, ‘Tere bina zindagi se koi shikva to nahin’ (There is no complaint in life, except [about] you) is when they meet after nine years. There is a connect between the three romantic songs as there is a recurrent metaphor of travelling in them.
Iss mod se jaate hain…
The song ‘Iss mod se jaate hain’ is a song in flashback, a storytelling device typical of Gulzar. Another characteristic of the poet is the unusual use of words, and their clever juxtaposition to encourage imagery as in the line ‘Kuch sust qadam raste, kuch tez qadam raahein’ (Some lazy ways, some quick routes).
Shot in the picturesque locales of Kashmir where the green pastures overshadow the rest of the scenery, this song starts with a shot of the mountain peaks, showing the pinnacle of their love, the sunlight through the trees depicting the happy future that the lovers expect for themselves, and a gushing stream portraying the flow of the emotions. In the lines ‘Aandhi ki tarah ud kar, ek raah guzarti hai’ (Flying like the wind, a path runs), Gulzar has used the metaphor of aandhi (storm) to suggest that sometimes the road ahead is chosen by destiny, and sometimes by other factors.
The song continues with the line, ‘In reshami rahon mein, ek raah woh hogee, tum tak jo pahunchi hai’ (Among these silky paths, there would be one which would lead to you) continuing its emphasis on the imagery of pathways and routes, underscoring the metaphor of travel and the sense of movement within a relationship. In ‘Yeh soch ke baithi hoon’ (I sit, wondering), again the mention of ‘baithi’ (literally meaning ‘sitting’, although here it is meant in the sense of pausing or waiting) indicates that in the midst of the journey, there is a need for pause too, to reflect and think of love and a happy life.
It is a positive song about the promise of fulfilment of love. However, the first two lines of the song are repeated once again in the last frame of the film where JK bids adieu to Aarti and the latter leaves. The hesitant Aarti steps aboard a helicopter and it is JK, firm but with a heavy heart, who helps her board the chopper and closes the door. The film ends with these lines as the helicopter flies away and JK keeps looking at it.
Tum aa gaye ho, noor aa gaya hai…
Picturized admist flowers, mainly roses and dahlias in full bloom, the setting of the song is symbolic of the blossoming of love between the couple. The soaring bird in the sky, described in the very first stanza, is a reference to the soaring passion of young love and its desire to break free and fly away together.
The fountain shown at the beginning isn’t turned on, but when it spurts open, it symbolizes the outburst of emotions. Even the structure in the background of this garden is not in ruins, showing more strength and positivity of the situation.
The line, Din dooba nahin, raat doobi nahin, jaane kaisa hai safar (Neither has the day set, nor the night, wonder what this journey is like), although mentioning the night, emphasizes on its continuity, merging with the day. The word safar (journey), brings in the metaphor travelling yet again. Also, the line kahan se chale, kahan ke liya (From where had I started, where was I headed) continues with the recurring image.
Tere bina zindagi se koi, shikva to nahin…
When the song, ‘Tere bina zindagi se koi, shikva to nahin’ plays in the background, the meaningful glances of longing shared between Aarti and JK show the deep love they once had for each other. The song begins with the couple walking together on a full-moon night in the ruins of Mattan in Kashmir. These ruins are a metaphor for their own relationship: strong, once upon a time, but now a casualty of the winds of change and the passing of time. Initially, Aarti is seen just looking at JK and following him, with the song playing in the background. The fact that she still yearns for him is visible in her tear-laden eyes. She does not, however, shed any. The first stanza of the song is in the woman’s voice, emphasizing that it’s possibly the woman who is more regretful of the way things stand. The song is an ode to the years gone by, wasted away by their separation. Remnants of affection are also apparent, when JK, feeling the chill in the air, offers his own coat to Aarti. The line ‘Kaash aisa ho tere qadmon se chunke manzil chalein, aur kahin, door kahin’ (If only, the route touched your feet and went, to some faraway land) has been picturized on the steps where the couple sit down to pause and introspect. It is JK who holds Aarti’s hand and makes her sit. She too holds his palms in hers and the feeling of repentance and regret is apparent. The lines continue about the longing for the manzil, the destination and is intercepted by dialogue:
JK: ‘Suno Aarti, yeh jo phoolon ki belein nazar aa rahi hain, darasal yeh belein nahin hain. Arbi mein aayatein likhin hain. Isse din ke waqt dekhna chahiye. Bilkul saaf nazar aati hain. Din ke waqt, ye sara paani se bhara rahta hai. Din ke waqt jab yeh phuwarre…’
(Aarti, these flower vines that you see aren’t actually vines. These are verses written in Arabic. One should see them in daylight. They appear very clear. During the day, all of it is filled with water. During the day, when these fountains…)
Aarti: ‘Rehne do. Kahan aa paungi din ke waqt?’
(Let it be. How will I be able to come during the day?)
JK: ‘Yeh jo chaand hai na, isse raat ke waqt dekhna. Yeh din mein nahin nikalta.’ (Both laugh)
(This moon, regard it only at night. It doesn’t come out in the day.)
Aarti: ‘Yeh to roz nikalta hoga.’
(This must be visible every day.)
JK: ‘Haan. Lekin beech mein amawas aa jati hai. Waise to amawas pandrah din ki hotee hai, lekin is baar bahut lambi thi.’
(Yes. Though the moonless night comes after every fifteen days, this time it lasted for a very long time.)
Aarti (with tears in her eyes): ‘Nau baras lambi thi na?’
(Wasn’t it nine years long?)
One notices subtle humour in the dialogue when JK refers to the moon coming out only at night. It is following these lines that Aarti expresses her desire to keep on crying, buried in his arms and even adds that she feels that there are tears in JK’s eyes as well. Only then does the song continue with the male voice. The oft-used image of the moon, rather the favourite image of Gulzar, which he himself claims that he has a ‘copyright’ on, comes again in the song with the line – ‘Tum jo kah do to, aaj ki raat, chaand doobega nahin, raat ko rok lo’ (Only if you say, the moon will not set, do stop the night).
The desire that time stops is apparent in the misty eyes of the couple. The two of them visit the ruins every night, strengthening the bond they once severed. The relationship seems to mend as Aarti eventually puts her head on JK’s shoulder and weeps, thinking about the lost years.
In R.D. Burman, Bhattacharjee and Vittal write that this song continues to be immensely popular. ‘The monumental success of the song can be gauged by the response it gets even today. The number of views on YouTube is around 3.5 million, definitely the highest for any Hindi film song considered “retro”, and probably highest among all Hindi film songs.’40
Salaam kijeye, aali janab aayein hain…
The fourth song of the film is a qawwali, an effective satire, where Gulzar’s lyrics poke fun at the intentions of politicians and points out the stark differences in their attitude before and after elections. This song is successful in bringing forth Gulzar’s own opinions and ideas about the political ruling class. What he didn’t try to express through dialogue, he did through verse and its themes and message continue to be relevant even today. Like most qawwalis, this too begins with an interlude of verses thematically adjoined to the rest of the song, though these words do not feature in the verses that follow. Here the words are: ‘Aarti man maanti, kehna kyun nahin maanti, paathshaala mein chhutti ho gayee, basta kyun nahin baandhti?’ (O stubborn Aarti, why don’t you listen, the school has shut down, why don’t you pack your bag?) and the song continues as ‘Salaam kijiye, aali janaab aaye hain’ (Pay your respects, Her Majesty is here). Accompanied by the traditional harmonium and the characteristic clapping that complements a qawwali, the song deviates from being a praise – all qawwalis originally were words of praise – and is a complete satire.
Interestingly, there are cutouts of a chair, hanging from trees, seen at three different points in the song. Chairs seem to be the symbol of the opposition party, as during the credit rolls, where there is a backdrop of the elections, many jeeps are seen with cutouts of chairs on them. One can interpret the chair as a well-known symbol of the power that politicians long for. Who occupies those chairs is a decision that rests with the common man and the votes they cast.
As the song progresses, there are two long queues in the backdrop. The first is outside the government ration shop. The second one is for water, where men, women and children are seen in line, with buckets, waiting at a common tap. The emphasis is on how the common man is queuing up for the basic needs and daily commodities. Elections come and go, political parties change, but the problems and the issues of the common man remain the same. We then move on to half-built houses, symbolic of half-baked promises by politicians. These houses under construction suggest that the common man is finally aware. The words, ‘Humaare vote kharidenge humko ann dekar, yeh nange jism chupa dete hain qafan dekar (They want to buy our votes, giving us some grains, they cover our bodies, giving us shrouds), clearly indicate that the common man is not only aware of politicians’ intentions but also not willing to take things lying down.
The song ends with heightened optimism: ‘Vote denge magar abke yon nahin denge, chunaav aane do hum aapse nipat lenge’ (We will vote, but not like this, let the elections come, we will settle scores) coupled with sarcasm and satire when an old man laughingly adds, ‘Yeh inqalaab layen hain’ (They have brought about a revolution).
There is another interesting point involving the lyrics. The male protagonist of the film, JK, is a poet too and at two instances he talks about a poem that he has written. Once during his and Aarti’s courtship, JK recites this over the phone:
‘Aao tumko utha loon kandhon par
Tum uchchak kar shareer hothon se
Choom lena yeh chaand ka maatha
Aaj ki raat dekha na tumne
Kaise chup chup ke kohniyon ke bal
Chaand itna kareeb aaya hai’
(Come, let me lift you on my shoulders
You can soar, and with your mischievous lips
Kiss the moon’s forehead.
Tonight, you haven’t noticed,
How silently, on its elbows
The moon has come so close.)
It comes as no surprise that when the filmmaker is Gulzar, the actor-poet will write a poem in which the central image will be that of a moon.
The second incident where a poem is mentioned in the film is when Aarti and JK are married and he wishes to recite one to her, but is unable to do so after her witty response. All the same, there is a mention that he has penned down a poem.
With three utterly romantic songs, a poem and a political-satirical qawwali, Gulzar mapped the film with magnificient verse. As film poetry and songs are a crucial part of Hindustani cinema, Aandhi can be considered to be a perfect example of intellectually stimulating cinema marrying mass appeal through poetry.