Raah Pe Rahte Hain (Namkeen)

Some Gulzar songs elevate themselves from the status of being mere songs, and turn into a life philosophy. Be it "Aane waala pal, jaane waala hai" (Gol Maal), "Musafir hoon yaaron" (Parichay), "Ye lamha filhaal jee lene de" (Filhaal), "Goli maar bheje mein" (Satya), "Aye zindagi, gale laga le" (Sadma) or the song that is the subject of this blog post - these are not just easy on your ears, they can well be life anthems for you or me.

At its most superficial, Raah pe rahte hain is the song of a truck driver (Sanjeev Kumar), who seems visibly pained and disillusioned with life. And even though Sanjeev Kumar's face conveys his despair and the song talks about how memories are all he has; it will find a connect with anyone who's a wanderer at heart. Because it's not a song about looking back; it's a song about forging ahead and making your peace with the journey (called life).

Raah pe rahte hain, combined with Musaafir hoon yaaron make me believe that deep down, Gulzar is also a wandering soul ... intent more on the journey than the destination.

Lyrics and translation:

Raah pe rahte hain, yaadon pe basar karte hain

Khush raho ahal-e-watan, hum to safar karte hain

[[We are the nomadic ones, spending our lives on roads and making do with memories

Hoping you find your happiness, as we have found our solace in this journey]]

Jal gaye jo dhoop mein to saaya ho gaye

Aasmaan ka koi kona odha, so gaye

Jo guzar jaati hai bas uspe guzar karte hain

(Raah pe rahte hain ...)

Whatever the journey throws his way, a traveler finds a way to grow and learn with it...

[[When burned by the sun, we became the shade that gives others shelter

(We don't need fancy hotels to sleep) Tucked under a corner of the sky, we sleep peacefully

Memories are what keep us alive ... ]]

Udte pairon ke tale jab bahti hai zameen

Mud ke humne koi manzil, dekhi hi nahin

Raat-din raahon pe hum, shaam-o-sahar karte hain

(Raah pe rahte hain ...)

[[When the road seems to flow under the speeding wheels

How does one find the time to ponder over what's left behind?

We find comfort in the roads; and this is where the sun rises and sets for us]]

Aise ujde aashiyaane, tinke ud gaye

Bastiyon tak aate-aate, raste mud gaye

Hum thahar jaayein jahaan, usko shahar karte hain

(Raah pe rahte hain ...)

[[We have seen the worst of times... Seen homes torn apart in shreds

Soon as we find ourselves nearing a town, a turn in the road would take us elsewhere

That's how we have learnt to make home wherever we stay

('Cause we are the nomadic ones, spending our lives on the roads and making do with memories...)]]

A little history of the lines "Khush raho ahle-watan, hum to safar karte hain":

Some time back Sandeep (@stwta) sent me this link, which has a long poem by Bismil, written when he was in prison following the Kakori Kand. The poem had this line "Khush raho ahle-watan hum to safar karte hain". Of course, it made me immensely happy, 'cause I love finding connections between pieces of literature/poetry.

Later on, I chanced upon this link, which chronicles Bhagat Singh's conviction and execution for the murder of Saunders. In addition to other details, it also has Bhagat's last letter to his brother Kultar; which again quotes the line "Khush raho ahle-watan hum to safar karte hain" (in addition to couplets from Iqbal and others).

So it made me think, may be Bismil and Bhagat Singh were both quoting someone else. So I searched some more, and found this page. Here I finally found out, that the line was originally written by Wajid Ali Shah. He wrote this couplet while being exiled from a place he loved, Lucknow:

"Dar-o-deewar pe hasrat se nazar karte hain

Khush raho ahle-watan hum to safar karte hain

Humne apna dil-e-naazuk to zafa ko saunpa

Qaisari bagh jo hai usko saba ko saunpa ...."

Hmm! So there it is, my little piece of research off the Internet, which has obviously made me happy enough for today :)

Plus it adds another name to the list of poets that Gulzar has quoted - Ghalib (Satrangi Re, Dil Dhoondhta Hai) and Khusrau (Zeehal-e-miskin). And I must confess, till some 10 years back I thought "Dikhaayi Diye Yun" (written by Mir Taqi Mir) was penned by Gulzar.

Here's a video to the poem written by Bismil, which was later used in the movie "Aandolan", and sung beautifully by the inimitable Bhupinder. (Again, thanks to @stwta)

(The movie Namkeen is also available on Youtube)

Huzoor is kadar (Masoom)

Indian men are not known for their expressiveness. I'm not talking about writing novels or making movies (and recently, writing blogs) running over with emotions. I'm talking about them expressing their (soft) emotions (love, romance, happiness, sadness) in real life. Have you seen a middle-class, middle-aged Indian man tell his wife how beautiful she is, in public? I'm sure you haven't - because they just don't do that. 

Unless they're drunk.

We've often been to parties where a very disciplined and strict by the day uncle, after a peg or two, would suddenly go all soft, declaring his love for his wife, even singing songs for her. The shocked but amused wife will pretend to be angry and scandalized, though she's enjoying every minute of this attention.

All this has been perfectly captured in this song. Naseeruddin Shah and Saeed Jaffrey are at their suave but impish best, mirroring on screen the playfulness of Bhupinder and Suresh Wadkar's voice. This, in my opinion, is the ultimate grown-up party song :D

Lyrics, and translation

Huzoor is kadar bhi na itra ke chaliye

Khule aam aanchal na lehra ke chaliye

[[My lady, don't be so vain!

Don't walk with such a carefree, breezy attitude.

 In Indian society, women are supposed to cover themselves (in this case, in saree) and walk with care, so they wouldn't be considered promiscuous. So walking 'khule aam aanchal lehra ke' (with her scarf flowing away) would mean that she doesn't care what others are thinking about her. 

My translation might have made it look like it's said in a serious manner, but read it all as a playful banter - because that's how it is meant.]]

Koi manchala gar pakad lega aanchal

Zara sochiye aap kya keejiyega

Laga de agar, badh ke zulfon mein kaliyan

To kya apno zulfein jhatak deejiyega

(Huzoor is kadar...)

[[What would you do, if someone starts flirting with you?

If someone puts flowers in your hair, would you simply wrench it off your hair?

(That's why, my lady, don't walk with such an attitude..)]]

Badi dilnasheen hain haseen ki ye ladiyaan

Ye moti magar yoon na bikhraaya keeje

Uda ke na le jaaye jhonka hawa ka

Lachakta badan yoon na lehraya keeje

(Huzoor is kadar...)

[[Your smile is really divine, but don't waste these pearls so freely (on everyone who looks your way).

The way you seem to glide about, I'm afraid lest a gush of wind takes you away.

(That's why, my lady, don't walk so vainly...)]]

Bahot khoobsoorat hai har baat lekin

Agar dil bhi hota, to kya baat hoti

Likhi jati phir daastaan-e-mohabbat

Ek afsaane jaisi mulakat hoti

(Huzoor is kadar...)

[[Everything about you is beautiful, if only you also had a heart!

Then we'd have had a fairy-tale encounter, and stories would have been written about us.

(If only you were not so cruel and heartless, you would have noticed my love for you. And we might have even had a fairy-tale romance.]]

(Side note: As a kid I thought Javed Jaffrey was Saeed Jaffrey's son :D)

Ek Akela Is Shahar Mein (Gharonda)

Cities can be cruel. The bigger the city, the more ruthless it is. Many a men come to cities with dreams in their eyes and hope fueling there ambitions. The anguish caused by crushing of these dreams and hopes has been captured by Gulzar a few times. This song is one of the most memorable examples that come to mind. 

Another striking one that I came across while reading his book 'Pukhraaj' is as follows:

"मैं इस शहर की मशीन में फिट हूँ जैसे ढिबरी,

ज़रूरी है ये ज़रा सा पुर्जा...

अहम भी है क्योंकि रोज़ के रोज़ तेल देकर,

इसे ज़रा और कस के जाता है चीफ़ मेरा...

वो रोज़ कसता है, 

रोज़ इक पेंच और चढ़ता है जब नसों पर,

तो जी में आता है ज़हर खा लूं...

या भाग जाऊं..."

(excerpt from a poem titled 'Diary')

A pattern I've noticed is that Gulzar makes use of inanimate objects to describe hardships. So, while a person becomes a 'purza' or a 'dhibree' (a part of machinery), life becomes a 'khaali bartan' or an empty vessel etc.

This song becomes even more effective due to the deeply resonant voice of Bhupinder (perfect for this song) and the non-intrusive music of Jaidev.

Lyrics, and translation

Ek akela is shahar mein, raat mein aur dopeher mein

Aab-o-daana dhoondhta hai, aashiyaana dhoondhta hai

[[The mukhda begins simply enough by describing an outsider in town, lonely, day and night searching for something to eat and drink, searching for a house. The sadness in Bhupinder's voice sets the tone for the song. (Aab-o-daana = water and food)]]

Din khaali-khaali bartan hai, aur raat hai jaise andha kuaan

In sooni andheri aankhon mein, aansoo ki jagah aata hai dhuaan

[[Days are like empty vessels, and nights are like bottomless pits. My eyes have dried up and instead of tears, they only have smoke in them. (see points 1 and 2 below)]]

Jeene ki wajah to koi nahin, marne ka bahaana dhoondhta hai, dhoondhta hai,

Dhoondhta hai, dhoondhta hai

[[There are no longer any reasons to live, so I just look for an excuse to die. And I keep looking, I keep looking...]]

In umr se lambi sadkon ko, manzil pe pahunchte dekha nahin

Bas daudti phirti rahti hain, humne to thaharte dekha nahin

[[These roads, longer than lifetimes of those running on it, keep running without pausing for breath; and are still somehow incapable of making people reach their destinations/destiny. (see point 3 below)]]

Is ajnabee se shahar mein, jaana-pehchana dhoondhta hai, 

Dhoondhta hai, dhoondhta hai

[[In this city of strangers, I keep looking for a known face. And I keep looking, and I keep looking...

(When you are new and alone in town, few things can match the happiness a known face gives you. Beautiful!)]]

My two three cents

1. Khaali-khaali bartan (Empty vessel): Anyone who has lived alone for long enough could understand what a depressing sight an empty vessel is. In India, we are so used to mothers keeping food prepared when we get home that almost everyone has faced the issue of not wanting to eat when living alone. The utensils in kitchen somehow seem to mock your loneliness, making it all the more worse.
2. Ansoo ki jagah aata hai dhuaan: Could mean either of (a) you've cried so much that you are no more capable of doing that; and (b) the city has made you heartless, and you've lost the capacity of crying.
3. For someone coming from a small town, the roads of a city are a labyrinth, a sea of people constantly running, faces wrought in grim determination. They can be most intimidating and can make you feel so small, insignificant and lonely. I think these feelings (and more) have been perfectly described in second antara.

(Sharing this song sung in beautiful karaoke style, that I came across while browsing. I don't know who the singer (Amitabha Bhattacharya) is, but he's quite good!)

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.