Zeehal-e-muskin (Ghulami)

This was inevitable. I know I have done (read translated) this song to death, but I have two reasons to do it again, on this blog.

1. Previosly I had only translated the mukhda, since that was the only part in Persian, and that was what people wanted to know (not that I know Persian, but I had read the translation on net before many around me did :P). Here, I can attempt the full song. 
2. This is a blog about Gulzar's songs, and this one is as awesome as they get.

Since I haven't watched the movie, I'll not go into the the background of, and intentions behind the song; and instead jump right to the translation part :)

Movie: Ghulami (1985)

Music Director: Lakshmikant-Pyarelal

Lyricist: Gulzar

Singers: Lata Mangeshkar, Shabbir Kumar

Lyrics, and translation

Zihal-e-muskeen maqun ba-ranjish, 

Bahaal-e-hijra bechara dil hai

[[Word meanings (Persian to English): Zihal = To notice or see, Muskeen = Poor, Maqun = Do not, 

Ba-ranjish = With enmity/anger, Bahaal = Recently, Hijr = Seperation

In Hindi: Is gareeb/laachaar (miskeen) dil ko jab dekho (zeehal), to gusse se (ba-ranjish) nahin (maqun),

is bechare dil ko haal hi mein (ba-haal) apne mehboob se judai (hijr) ka gham mila hai

In English: Don't look at this poor heart with enmity,

It (the heart) is fresh with wounds of separation.]]

Tere bina zindagi se koi (Aandhi)

'Tere Bina Zingadi Se Koi' from Aandhi (1975) is one of the all time classics, in the voice of Kishore Kumar (amazing how he could yoodley and sing such soulful songs with equal ease) and Lata Mangeshkar (IMO, the greatest singer of all time). This song is composed by R.D. Burman and written by Gulzar. 

The stage is set  thus:

Aarti Devi (Suchitra Sen) and JK (Sanjeev Kumar) are married, but estranged (mainly due to her political ambitions). During one of Aarti Devi's election rallies, they meet again after many years. It's then that they begin to ask themselves, that though they have been living apart for so long, have they really lived all these years, (or merely existed)? This song conveys regret at losing one's love, and raises the question if anything you gained after sacrificing your love was worth it.

Lyrics, and translation:

Tere bina zindagi se koi, shikwa nahin (shikwa nahin, shikwa nahin)

Tere bina zindagi bhi lekin zindagi to nahin (zindagi nahin, zindagi nahin)

[[There is not much to complain about, in a life without you.

But then, a life without you is hardly a life]]

Abhi na parda giraao (Pukhraaj)

A totally amateurish sketch of Gulzar by me

I've presented two interpretations of this gair-filmi nazm in paragraphs marked (1) and (2). Which one, if any, do you think makes more sense?

Like many other poets, Gulzar's fascination with death is quite apparent in many of his couplets and poems. Also apparent is his fascination with stage and characters (most famously heard in the brilliant Rajesh Khanna monologue from the movie Anand (1971)) - the latter probably resulting from his being a director and screenplay writer.

(1) In this nazm, he seems to be talking about the death of a person. The pain of someone who has lost a near one, and is not ready to let go just now. (Like the song 'Na leke jaao mere dost ka janaaza hai' from Fiza (2000)). Para-1 of the nazm supports this version.

Namak (Omkara)

[When I told Rahul that I have written a blog post about 'Namak isk ka', his first words were "But isn't that a controversial song?" I said that's why I was writing about it, to clear away at least some of the controversy.

Sure, the song may throw a few double entendres your way, but I think it was meant to be racy, what with its being filmed on a village dancer. I've heard a few songs old women in villages sing, and they are so risqué they can make our urban ears burn.

Another reason behind posting this song was the fact that the already available translations are so bad, they ruin the whole song.]

Mera Kuchh Saamaan (Ijaazat)

Surely nothing new could be written about a song as legendary as this. So let's begin with an anecdote about the song, by Gulzar himself:

"When I gave him (Pancham) ‘Mera kuCH saamaaan tumhare paas paDa hai’, he waved the lyric aside and said, “Huh, tomorrow you’ll bring me the front page of *The Times of India* and expect me to compose a tune around it. What is this blank verse you’re giving me!” Ashaji was sitting there, she started humming the phrase, “Mujhe lauta do.” He grasped it immediately; from that one phrase he developed the song, which was quite a feat! This time Ashaji and I got National Awards. Poor fellow, he did all the work and we enjoyed the ‘kheer’." (Source)

'Mera kuchh saaman' earned Gulzar his first National Award for best lyrics. There were songs before and after, but this probably best defines the Gulzar way of writing them - understated, yet breathtakingly poetic.

In a movie where every dialogue is lyrical, and every character is nothing short of being a poet; the songs had to be extraordinary. They are. And how!

Panaah (Pukhraj) - Gair-filmi

We all are aware of most of Gulzar's body of work as a lyricist in Bollywood. So I thought it might be a good idea to introduce a few of his gair-filmi poems as well. Presenting the first in this series, a nazm titled 'Panaah' from Gulzar's collection 'Pukhraj', along with its English translation.

पनाह 

उखाड़ दो अरज़-ओ-तूल खूंटों से बस्तियों के
समेटो सडकें, लपेटो राहें
उखाड़ दो शहर का कशीदा
कि ईंट - गारे से घर नहीं बन सका किसी का

पनाह मिल जाए रूह को जिसका हाथ छूकर
उसी हथेली पे घर बना लो
कि घर वही है
और पनाह भी

तुम्हारे हाथों में मैंने देखी थी अपनी एक लकीर, सोनां
.

Word-bank:
अरज़-ओ-तूल = Araz-o-tool = Length and breadth

कशीदा = Kasheeda = Embroidery

.

Refuge

Rip open the spread of the civilization
Pick up the roads, roll up every street
Tear apart the neatly-embroidered rows of this city
'Cause bricks and mortar can't make a home

If the touch of a hand comforts your soul,
Choose this hand to build your home
'Cause that alone, is your home
And that alone, is your haven

In the lines on your hand, my beloved, I found a line of my own.
.

Hope you enjoyed the nazm; and liked its translation and the sketch.

Chori pe chori (Saathiya)

[Do read the actual translation, because it's not word for word; and I've tried to express my interpretations of the lines. Especially a few paras in between.]

Saathiya (2002) is amongst one of my all-time favorite Hindi movies. Though hundreds of romantic dramadies are churned out by Bollywood every year, this one stands out - mostly because it begins where most other movies end, with the two protagonists getting married against the wishes of their parents. But also because it gets its basics right - a very believable story, backed by first-rate cinematography, amazing music (AR Rehman and Gulzar) and witty, witty dialogs (again by Gulzar). Readers, if you haven't watched Saathiya lately, I suggest you do so once more, if only for its dialogs. Of course, the story is beautifully executed by the cast, with both Vivek Oberoi and Rani Mukherjee pitching in one of their best performances. A word must also be put in for Sandhya Mridul.

Though I can (and most probably, will) write a separate post for each one of Saathiya's songs (I love them all), let's do the shubharambh with one of its least celebrated songs - 'Chori pe chori'.

Dil dhoondhta hai phir wahi (Mausam)

At times, music works like an incredibly potent time-travelling machine. This particularly song, for example, takes me back to the time when we were kids, living in the (at that time) picturesque little Doctor's Colony of Rewa. Not because the Rewa is an idyllic town situated in the Himalayas (it's not); but because Mom had a cassette with this song, which she often played - and in my mind the song has become deeply correlated with my childhood home with its quaint backyard and garden.

It's not as if, at the age of 8 or 10, we were able to comprehend the depth of the lyrics or enjoy the pace of Bhupinder's unhurried vocals. If anything, I probably hated this 'sad' song... But I digress!

The song is an ode to the days when life was leisurely, when minds were uncluttered, when skies were bluer, and when you could lay idle without thinking that's you're getting left behind in a supersonic world.

Satrangi Re (Dil Se)

In my opinion, Satrangi Re's distractingly beautiful cinematography and a stunning Manisha Koirala take away from it. Because the song in itself is so incredibly exquisite, it ought to be heard in isolation as well.

At the hostel in Banasthali, we used to shut all doors and windows of our room and make it pitch black. Then we played this song on full volume. That took the song to another dimension altogether. Today before writing the post, I recreated that atmosphere. And I must tell you, we were not crazy back then. Go, give it a try!

A 'Satrangi Re' montage.

Chhoti si kahaani se (Ijaazat)

Since most of the comments on my previous post wanted the next post to be more Gulzar-esque, here we are, with a song that defines the 80's Gulzar that we all fell in love with.

This song is so much more than the sum of the beautiful, beautiful lyrics, music and voice. It is a perfect introduction to the movie Ijaazat, which is poetry in itself. Ijaazat is arguably Gulzar's best screenplay till date - and the dialogues should find a place in every cinema-lover's bookshelf.

The movie sets off against the magically surreal beauty of rain-soaked Konkan (or is it North-east?). And playing in the background is 'Chhoti si kahaani se' in Asha's heart-achingly beautiful voice. The song transports you to a different world altogether - pure and passionate, yet melancholic. It also makes you long for something, someone.

The song is pure liquid magic in the ears. And that's why it is impossible to 'translate' it. It can only be felt.

Dhadak-Dhadak (Bunty Aur Babli)

I chose this as the first song for translation (instead of the more 'deep' ones), because I feel that the songs written by Gulzar for the more recent commercials movies has been mostly ignored by the cinema-goers as being trivial and not quite up to the Gulzar-mark. If at all they're less profound, it's because they reflect the mood of the public. (Maybe it's time for some self-reflection on why we have become less profound :P)

Background:

Rakesh a.k.a. Bunty (Abhishek Bachchan) and Vimmi a.k.a. Babli (Rani Mukherji) are two ambitious wannabes from small towns, where their dreams are written off as outrageous daydreaming. This is a song about their hopes and dreams.

Special mentions: 1. Babli is a Punjabi girl from a small town, and her language in the song is character-appropriate. She would use both swear words (e.g.: khasma nu khaye) and English words (e.g.: easy nahin) in the same breath. She's ambitious and is already looking forward to her life as a celebrity.
2. As this song is uplifting and about looking up and ahead, you'll find many references to words like sky, stars, moons and clouds.