Begum CeRtainly meant no gham

Although I was aware of the fact that there was a film titled Patanga (which released in 1949), I didn’t know what the word meant. When I looked it up online, I read that it could be translated to, “Moth”.

And just as that insect is attracted towards light, Hindi film music buffs were drawn to the most popular song in the film – Mere Piya Gaye Rangoon.

It was penned by Rajinder Krishan.

C Ramchandra did not just compose the track, but he rendered it too.

He was joined behind the microphone by Shamshad Begum.

This Lata classic was haunting

From a chronological standpoint, Aayega Aanewala – the haunting track from Mahal, which released in 1949 – was the first song I heard, but since I wasn’t aware of other songs from Hindi films released in the 1940s, I listened to a few more over the years before creating this playlist.

By no means would it be incorrect to state that this was the song with which Lata Mangeshkar shot to fame.

Naqshab Jaarchavi penned the Khemchand Prakash composition, which was originally offered to Uma Devi (Tun Tun), who refused owing to her contract with Kardar Productions.   

Lata RendereD this lively track

Eric Roberts may be a unfamiliar name to most Hindi film music aficionados, but music buffs of a certain vintage would certainly be familiar with his stage name – Vinod.

He was a composer, and one of his most popular songs was the lively Lara Lappa from the 1949 film Ek Thi Larki (shouldn’t it have been spelled Ladki?)

The track, which had a Punjabi hook, was penned by Aziz Kashmiri.

It was rendered by the one and only Lata Mangeshkar, who was joined behind the microphone by Mohammed Rafi and his idol, G M Durrani.

Rafi rendered this marvellous solo

The soundtrack of Dulari, which released in 1949, feature the mind-blowing Suhani Raat Dhal Chuki, a solo by the one and only Mohammed Rafi.

And by no means would it be incorrect to state that its next line, which went, “Na jaane tum kab aaoge” (which could be translated to, “I don’t know when you will come”), was what fans of Hindi film music of the Golden Era were telling that era and its melodies.

The track, which was three minutes and 29 seconds, was composed by Shakeel Badayuni.

It was composed by Naushad Ali.

Shyam sang it many ‘moon’S(uraiy)ago

Dillagi released in 1949.

And there’s no two ways about Tu Mera Chand Main Teri Chandni was the most popular track in the film.

The soundtrack of the film featured a couple of versions of the track, and one was a sad version.

While Shyam – the film’s male lead – rendered both the versions, the version on this blog was rendered by Suraiya, who was the film’s female lead as well.

He was joined behind the microphone by Geeta Dutt for the sad version.

The track, which was penned by Shakeel Badayuni, was composed by Naushad.

It was MeLodious and foot-tapping

I have to sheepishly admit that the first time I heard Patli Kamar Hai was when I chanced upon a video of Nitin Mukesh singing and dancing on stage to the song from Barsaat.

The song was originally rendered by his father Mukesh Chand Mathur, who was joined behind the microphone by none other than Lata Mangeshkar.

It was the longest of the seven tracks from the film on this blog – it was five minutes and 17 seconds long.

The track, which was penned by Shailendra, was composed by Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal.

Ms Mangeshkar’s beqaraari was doubled

One of the songs on the soundtrack of Barsaat was a track everyone hopes to sing at some point in his/her youth.

And it was rendered by none other than Lata Mangeshkar, whose beqaraari – which, in this context, could be translated to, “excitement” – was doubled.

The track in question was O O O Mujhe Kisi Se Pyaar Ho Gaya.

A couple of minutes and 46 seconds long, it was penned by Jalal Malihabadi. It was his only contribution to the soundtrack of the film.

The song was composed by Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal.

Rafi’s solo wasn’t a confession

The soundtrack of Barsaat featured one song by Mohammed Rafi.

It was titled Main Zindagi Mein Hardam Rota Hi Raha.

There’s no two ways about the fact that it would remind people of the controversy about Anushka Sharma’s character’s dialogue in Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, which released in 2016. She disparagingly said, “Mohammed Rafi gaate nahin, rote the”. However, that is purely coincidental.

It was the shortest male solo in the film – it was a couple of minutes and 51 seconds long.

Hasrat Jaipuri penned the track, which Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal composed.

This track was universally reLatable

There’s no two ways about the fact that the soundtrack of Barsaat had a universally reLatable track.

Titled Jiya Beqaraar Hai, it was rendered by Ms Mangeshkar.

It was the first recorded song of the man who penned it – Hasrat Jaipuri, whose first recorded duet was the track I wrote about a couple of posts ago (Chhod Gaye Balam).

While it was three minutes and 10 seconds long, the album featured the instrumental version of the song, which Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal composed. It was a couple of minutes and 29 seconds long.

This solo inspired (Mangeshk)arecreated version

Hawa Mein Udta Jaaye was the shortest of the seven songs from Barsaat on this blog – it was two-and-a-half minutes long.

It was penned by Ramesh Shastri. It happened to be his only contribution to the film’s soundtrack, which was composed by Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal.

The song was rendered by the one and only Lata Mangeshkar.

Fifty-three years after its release (i.e., in 2002), it inspired a recreated version which was credited to Bombay Vikings, the Swedish pop group fronted by Neeraj Shridhar. It was from their album of the same name.  

Their voices were the baLM

By no means would it be incorrect to state that Chhod Gaye Balam was one of the finest sad songs in the history of Hindi film songs – and, might I add, one of the most reLatable as well.

It was the shortest of the two duets on the soundtrack of Barsaat – it was four minutes and 28 seconds long.

The track was rendered by the one and only Ms Mangeshkar, who was joined behind the microphone by Mukesh Chand Mathur.

It was penned by Hasrat Jaipuri, and composed by Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal.

Lata rendered this title track

Barsaat, which released in 1949, marked the debut of composers of Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal, and by no means would it be incorrect to state that it was a prophetic start – for the next 22 years (until Jaikishan’s untimely demise), they were flooded with offers.

This blog contains seven tracks from the film.

If they were arranged in the alphabetical order, the title track – Barsaat Mein Humse Mile – would be the first.

The song, which was penned by Shailendra, was five minutes long.

It was rendered by the one and only Lata Mangeshkar.  

Premlata sang it with Lata

Transliterations have always been a funny thing when it comes to Hindi films and songs, and the 1949 film Bari Behen was no different.

When I first read it, I translated it to, “Acquitted sister”, instead of elder sister, which is what the film’s title translates to. And I wondered why it was not spelled Badi Behen.

Jokes apart, the only song from the film on this blog is Chup Chup Khade Ho.

It was rendered by the Didi of playback singing, Lata Mangeshkar, and Premlata.

Rajinder Krishan penned the track, which Husnlal Bhagatram composed.

  

It was another Mukesh classic

The second track from Andaz on this blog was Tu Kahe Agar (and like the first, it was picturised on the tragedy king, Dilip Kumar).

The next two lines of the song went, “Jeevan bhar main geet sunaata jaoon” (which could be translated to, “If you say so, I will keep singing for the rest of my life”).

While Mukesh Chand Mathur went on to do just that, it was unfortunate that his jeevan ended just over a month after he turned 53.

The song was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, and composed by Naushad Ali.

Mukesh Chand Mathur held sway

This blog contains a couple of tracks from Andaz, which released in 1949.

If they were arranged in the alphabetical order, Jhoom Jhoom Ke Nacho Aaj would be the first.

It was rendered by Mukesh, and picturised on Dilip Kumar.

The film’s other leading man was Raj Kapoor, and interestingly, the vocals of Mohammed Rafi were employed for him in this film.

When the duo became superstars, the voices were switched.

It was the only track in the film that was penned by Prem Dhawan.

The song was composed by none other than Naushad Ali.

It was Kumar’s maiden (Kisho)rendition

Ziddi, which released in 1948, didn’t just establish its leading man – the evergreen Dev Anand – as a star, but also marked the debut of a teenager as a playback singer.

It probably helped that the latter was a reluctant actor and was ziddi (stubborn) enough to make it to the top echelon of playback singing (which he did, albeit a couple of decades later).

The man in question was none other than Mr Kumar, and the first song he (Kisho)rendered was Marne Ki Duaayen Kyon Maangoon.

Prof Jazbi penned the song, which Khemchand Prakash composed.

Rafi’s rendition comforted the Heart-Broken

I know that heartbroken isn’t hyphenated, and that neither heart nor broken are capitalised.

But the subject of this post was composed by a pair of brothers who bore those initials – Husnlal Bhagatram [who taught composers Shankar (of the Shankar Jaikishan jodi) and Laxmikant (Pyarelal’s partner) and singer Mahendra Kapoor].

The track in question was Ek Dil Ke Tukde Hazaar Hue.

It was from Pyar Ki Jeet, the 1948 film that marked the directorial debut of O P Dutta (director J P Dutta’s father).

Qamar Jalalabadi penned the song, which was rendered by Mohammed Rafi.

Rafi’s only song was superb

If you rearrange the letters in the word fair, what you get is the name of the singer, Mohammed Rafi.

But by no means would it be incorrect to state that it was un‘fair’ that the legendary crooner sang just one song in Mela, which released in 1948.

The track, which was composed by Shakeel Badayuni, was titled Yeh Zindagi Ke Mele.

Naushad Ali composed the song, which bore testimony to Rafi’s versatility – it was picturised on a wandering mendicant, and not on the film’s leading man, Dilip Kumar (for whom Mukesh Chand Mathur sang).

Chitalkar SAng this weekend favourite

Today is Saturday, and we’re in the midst of a lockdown.

However, when normal service resumes, I’m sure a lot of lovers, who eagerly await weekends to meet their beloveds (but can’t at the moment, because social distancing is being maintained), will croon, “Aana Meri Jaan Meri Jaan Sunday Ke Sunday”.

P L Santoshi (filmmaker Rajkumar Santoshi’s father) penned the song from Shehnai (1947), which was not only composed, but also rendered by C Ramchandra (who used his surname, Chitalkar, when he sang).

He was joined behind the microphone by Amirbai Karnataki and Shamshad Begum.

Uma rendered this massive hit

Despite having written 3,890 blog posts over the last four years, this is my first (Aap chronology samajhiye).

And it is about the song that made Uma Devi popular – Afsana Likh Rahi Hoon.

It was from a film titled Dard, which released in 1947.

Shakeel Badayuni penned the track, which Naushad Ali composed.

Of course, a few years later, the Dard of being unable to continue singing (owing to a limited vocal range) would be far out‘weighed’ by her fine performances as a comedienne over four decades – Uma Devi was popularly known as Tun Tun.