I have a friend, a noted UK based
Hindi writer, Tejendra Sharma, who very passionately pleads that many ‘good’
songs from the Hindi films are of such a high quality that they should be
recognized as proper literature and should be included in the academic
curriculum. While discussing the subject, he would list quite a few of the
songs of (mostly) 1950s/60s/70s movies, penned by poets like Shakeel, Sahir,
Shailendra etc. to lend strength to his argument.
This morning, as I was driving to
work, my car stereo was playing the song ‘संसारसे भागे फिरते हो, भगवान को तुम क्या पाओगे’ from the film ‘Chitralekha’
(1964) and suddenly the vehemence of Mr. Sharma’s argument resurfaced in my
mind. I thought: ‘Does this song not represent the essence of the novel
‘Chitralekha’, by Bhagwati Charan Verma, on which the film is based? Is it not
genuine poetry?’ In fact, in my view, had this not been a ‘filmi’ song, a student could use it as a
quotation while doing a critical analysis of the novel and the quotation would
fetch him good marks. However, the ‘filmi’ tag would deter any student from
quoting the song. Sahir Ludhianavi, the lyricist, was a poet of phenomenal
quality and even his film songs had a stamp of class. This particular song is
remarkable for two very powerful reasons:
Firstly, as the story was set in
the Mauryan era, i.e. the 4th century
B.C., the language had to be Sanskritised Hindi. Even though Sahir was
basically an Urdu poet, he has used Hindi (not Hindustani) with remarkable
mastery.
Secondly, in a film which is a
pathetic adaptation of the classic for various reasons (most importantly
casting), this song captures and sums up the central idea of the novel to
perfection.
In order to explain the
song-script correlation let me, first of all, for the benefit of those who have
not read the novel, give a synopsis of the same. The story starts in a gurukul in the Mauryan empire. Just as two
students, Shwetank and Vishaldev, are about to finish their graduation in the gurukul,
one of them asks a question as to what is
the definition of a sin (पाप). Instead of giving them a direct answer, the teacher
asks them to get some real life experience and learn the answer themselves. So,
after finishing off their studies, one is sent to a young rich lord in the
Chandragupta Maurya’s court, Bijgupta, enjoying the pleasures of life, while
the other one is sent to a yogi, Kumargiri, who has renounced all worldly
pleasures in pursuit of spiritualism. There cannot be a bigger contrast as,
while the former is enjoying life in the company of a beautiful woman, the
later tries to keep away from the shadow of women whom he considers the source
of sin. The students are required to serve these masters for one year and then
to come back with their version of answers. At Bijgupta’s place Shwetank meets
‘Chitralekha’, the pivotal character of the novel, who, though a courtesan, can
be seen musing over the philosophy of life and love and, also, debating and
putting great hermits to shame. Someone who found comfort in unrest,
Chitralekha, is portrayed as a woman of exceptional beauty and wisdom. The
other two major characters are depicted as embodiments of perceived ‘bhog’ i.e. seeking worldly pleasure and ‘yoga’, renunciation in pursuit
of spiritualism, respectively. The two young men, particularly the one with
Bijgupta, undergo an overwhelming, bumpy and tumultuous journey in discovery of
multifaceted life and each one has their own version of ‘paap’ and ‘punya’ as they return to their Guru. The Guru
does not give a fixed definition of ‘paap’ and he concludes, ‘‘संसार में पाप कुछ भी नहीं है, यह केवल मनुष्य के दृष्टिकोण की विषमता का दूसरा नाम है। हम न पाप करते हैं और न पुण्य करते हैं, हम केवल वह करते हैं जो हमें करना पड़ता है।’’ (Sin is nothing
but the variance in the outlook of people. We do not commit sins or noble
deeds; we only do what we are made to do by the compulsions of life.)
The song
mentioned above has been picturised on Meena Kumari, playing Chitralekha’, who
mocks the renunciation of the ‘Yogi’ Kumargiri and says that the ‘Yoga’ practiced by the later is nothing but
escapism and such a ‘Yoga’ cannot lead to salvation. Here is the song:
संसारसे
भागे फिरते हो, भगवान को तुम क्या पाओगे
इस लोक
को भी अपना ना सके, उस लोक में भी पछताओगे
ये पाप
है क्या, ये पुण्य है क्या, रीतों पर धर्म
की मुहरे हैं
हर युग
में बदलते धर्मोंको कैसे आदर्श बनाओगे
ये भोग
भी एक तपस्या है, तुम त्याग के मारे क्या जानो
अपमान
रचेता का होगा, रचना को अगर ठुकराओगे
हम कहते
हैं ये जग अपना है, तुम कहते हो झूठा सपना है
हम जनम बिताकर जायेंगे, तुम जनम गवाँकर जाओगे
I am deliberately not paraphrasing
the lyrics because the spirit of the song would be lost in the paraphrase.
However, what Sahir says in the third and fourth lines, is an echo of the
concluding message of the novel and the song itself represents the essence of
the philosophy of life of Chitralekha, the protagonist.
Here I reiterate what I have
stated above. To me this song is pure and genuine poetry. Then, do I agree with Mr.
Tejendra Sharma that ‘good’ songs from films should be recognized as formal
literature and included in curriculum? To this, I would say that in spite of
the very high quality of this song, and numerous other songs, I would prefer
the academic and the ‘filmi’ poetry to remain in their separate
quarters.
My logic is simple. The qualifying
condition is ‘GOOD’ film songs. The interpretation of ‘GOOD’ is always
subjective. Maybe I and Mr. Sharma have identical views about what is ‘GOOD’.
But once you open the doors there might be people thinking that Sheela Ki jawani or Ataria ape lotan kabootar or Sarkay lev khatiya are equally ‘GOOD’, if not better. So,
let the two worlds remain separated. Even so, the songs which I or Mr. Sharma or others like us think are good
will continue to rule the hearts and minds of people liking them and that is
what matters.
