Dancing Peacock. Drunken Brawl.

Have you ever seen a peacock in full flow, feathers out, performing its majestic dance? I haven't. The only experience I have with peacocks came about ten years ago, when I tried my level best to ensure that the one nasty bugger that had landed on my balcony didn't steal a biscuit from my hand, and also that it didn't steal a finger from it. I wasn't quite sure if it was after the food or my finger (possibly also food- I have heard they eat snakes, what the hell was the obsession with a bloody finger?). Or maybe the particular individual I met was too sissy for manly peacock stuff and had thus never mastered the ancient art of The Capture of the Cobra. Either way, I hate peacocks; and the only reason a peacock features here is because of its significance to the lyrics of the song I am just about to write about, and to make the name of this post sound cool- something out of the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon handbook on how to come up with cool, meaningless names that no one understands. I apologise if I missed my mark.

Anyhow, on to more significant matters. This post concerns some more truly wonderful music from 1950s Hindi cinema. These songs are from the 1958 film Madhumati- it was the closest Hindi cinema got to noir back in those days, and dealt with topics like reincarnation way before modern knock-offs like Karz and Om Shanti Om came into being.

The first song is this piece called 'Jungle Mein Mor Naacha' which is one of the most hilarious songs ever written (link here), the lyrics highlighting the lament of a poor drunk soul, who simply says 'Jungle Mein Mor Naacha kisi ne na dekha, hum jo thodi si pi ke zara jhoome, hai re sab ne dekha'- and in this one beautiful line describes very aptly an experience that most of us who have had any contact with alcohol would have experienced. At those fateful times when one happens to be drunk, people somehow forget about everything else in the vicinity, much of which promises to be far more entertaining (live music, hot women, meteor showers, football matches, Die Hard (brackets within brackets, I know, but Die Hard would make such a fantastic name for a zombie porno- both words make sense)), or is far more important (calls from home, calls from work, calls from girlfriend, calls from nature), and for some godforsaken reason remain transfixed upon the drunk individual until something embarrassing has been wrung from the situation. Depending on which side you're on- it is either absolutely hilarious, or completely lamentable; Johnny Walker in this song is looking to deal with this unhealthy obsession/necessary practice of drunxploitation. Coming back to more pertinent points about the music itself:

• The lyrics of the song are amazing. When absorbed in the humour, what many may not notice at the first listen is the subtle satire that the lyricist, Shailendra, has thrown in. It highlights the natural human tendency to notice things mundane yet irritating and harp on them, while at the same time, we find it easier to excuse certain bigger errors- Shailendra wonderfully highlights this intrinsic folly in the human character 
• Rafi finds the perfect hero in Johnny Walker- while he may have been the undisputed King of romance, the naturally rich, smooth and if I may say so, alcoholic texture to his voice finds its perfect on screen match in the inimitable Johnny Walker

The second song is the beautiful Dil Tadap Tadap Ke (link here)

• Dilip Kumar, aged around 36 when the movie released, retained a very boyish charm, which is very evident in the video of the song. One can only wonder, if he would have been a bigger star had he born in the Shahrukh and Ranbir obsessed times of today.
• Lata Mangeshkar puts in an these beautiful periods of just vocalising a tune while Mukesh sings- back in the era where technology did not exist to record the two voices separately and then piece them together. Making it sound as easy and as wonderful as she does is a sign of the true genius that the lady is blessed with.
• What is not so positive though, is that there are many allegations that this song is a copy of an old Polish tune, and based on the evidence available, that appears to be the case (see here and here). It seems that getting 'inspiration' is not solely Anu Malik's prerogative, even legitimate greats like Salil Chowdhury found it hard to let an opportunity (read: great tune) pass them by. If it only weren't for the comments column on Youtube, I would have never known, and neither would have you. But, since it is such a wonderful piece of music, and putting it in Madhumati after making it a lot nicer to listen to (kudos again to Shailendra's lyrics, sample this: Tu Nahi To Yeh Bahar Kya Bahar Hai, Gul Nahi Khile Ke Tera Intezar Hai, true poetry- and to Lata and Mukesh for producing yet another masterpiece) did make it accessible to a lot more people, I think it's safe to let this little folly pass.

All in all, a fantastic listen, and definitely one of the nicest set of songs ever created for hindi cinema. The other songs in Madhumati are really nice as well, and are definitely worth a listen.

To give it a rating-

Madhumati (1958)- Dilip Kumar, Vyjantimala, Johnny Walker

Music: Salil Chowdhury (and unknown Polish composer), Lyrics: Shailendra

Music Rating: Most certainly a 4.25/5, despite the plagiarism. While many may disagree with such a high rating for a plagiarised song, my logic here is simple- has listening to Dil Tadap Tadap Ke made my life a little bit better? It has. And so the rating stays. 

About the little bit in the title of this post about drunken brawls, maybe more people should behave like Johnny Walker did and sing songs instead of getting into brawls. I have seen him essay the roles of drunk people over many decades of cinema, and the image of a drunkard stayed with him throughout that long period, but never once did he get into a brawl, whether on screen or in real life. Possibly because he was a teetotaller.

Tooth Fairy. Root Canal.

I'm once again hit by the urge to write. Type rather, who writes anymore? I'm wondering how long it'll take before people forget how to hold a pen- I realised the other day that extended writing gives me substantial discomfort these days, and proud as I am of my handwriting (much improved since just before the Class X Boards to ensure 100% legibility, while still retaining the proper 'grown up' look), typing is just so much easier.

Speaking of discomfort, I come to the title of this post. I have recently discovered that brushing twice a day, for as long as I can remember has failed me miserably, and I had to visit the dentist in search of the reason behind the massive dental pain that I have been feeling since last night. I was under the impression that the agony might have been the direct result of a stray hand, flung out in either revelry, or violence, or simply in the search for that sneaky little bastard called balance (which seems to desert at the first signs of inebriation), all of which were on display in abundance. But I was corrected and was shown a fancy X Ray of my tooth with a black spot in it which apparently signalled to just one thing: Root Canal required. Which angers me to no extent; and makes me question the sanity of the 'brush twice a day, and you're fine' wisdom. The Tooth Fairy bit's in there just for kicks- I mean, who calls a post Root Canal- that seems like the wrong way to begin any post intended for public consumption.

Anyhow, I've noticed a fair bit of digression from the original intent behind writing this post- and it happens to be a review of a couple of songs. I've been on a 1950s hindi movie trip over the past few weeks, and recently rediscovered the music from the movie Dil Deke Dekho (1959). The first song I heard was the truly magnificent 'Hum aur Tum aur Yeh Sama'. Youtube thankfully provides the song and it may be found by clicking here. The other song is the foot tapping 'Bolo Bolo Kuch To Bolo'. To access the video for the latter, click here. Other than having an alliterative name, the movie also includes some further points worthy of note:

• The music director is a lady called Usha Khanna. who is possibly (and sadly) one of the least known music directors in our industry. Much more impressive than the fact that she was a woman (feminists would have me for breakfast if I left it just there), she was only 18 when she composed this absolute masterpiece. And she worked with Mohammad Rafi. Respect. Also, a photo of her with the two greatest male vocalists in our film industry can be found here.
• The sound on Bolo Bolo, especially the intro before the lyrics start is absolutely mind blowing. The trumpet is used beautifully, and the follow up percussion leading into the lyrics are both in sync with the sound being developed in the world of Jazz then.
• This was Asha Parekh’s debut movie. She would go on to rule hearts for the best part of the next two decades, and would come back on screen with Shammi Kapoor for other movies, like the ridiculously entertaining Teesri Manzil.
• Shammi Kapoor was already rocking the white shoes (as visible in both songs), white shirt and white trousers look when Jeetendra was still a fresh faced teenager making his debut in a side role in Navrang. In ‘Hum aur tum aur yeh sama’, he looks ready to take off for a casual game of tennis at Wimbledon as soon as other, more pressing matters like getting the girl are dealt with. Poor guy just never got the credit for it. In fact, he was just as prone to gyrating on screen in a manner resembling an overenthusiastic warm up session for a long day at the gym as Jeetendra. Who the hell gave Jeetendra the trademark over ‘Jumping Jack Jeetu’ anyway? If it weren’t for the convenient alliteration that his nickname happens to be blessed with, maybe more people would have recognised him for the copycat he was.
• In fact, Shammi Kapoor’s screen image was well and truly cool;  he seems to follow a smart, well measured, balls-to-the-world  approach to love. I mean, who the hell back then (in the era when everyone in Hindi Cinema appears to have overdosed on Hans Christian Andersen, thereby ensuring that every love story, once begun, had to continue happily ever after), had the guts to say to the girl ‘Pyaar ho toh keh do yes, pyaar nahi to keh do no, phir jo ho ho so ho’. It really is wonderfully simple, yes or no, to hell with the consequences. (In all fairness, I should really be giving credit to the lyrics writers Majrooh-Sultanpuri; for all you know Shammi Kapoor had just as much of a propensity to alcohol and violence and tears as most jilted lovers these days; again amply on display at the party I attended last night)
• For those really into old Hindi cinema music, if you find a similarity between Usha Khanna’s sound and that of OP Nayyar, that should not be too much of a surprise, as she was one of the great man’s protégés. Saying that, at 18 she seems to have done extraordinarily well.

Though the film also features other songs, including the title track, these two are my favourites, and by themselves make listening to the entire album worthwhile.

Dil Deke Dekho (1959)- Shammi Kapoor, Asha Parekh

Music Rating-  Most definitely a 3.5/5. Thoroughly enjoyable, and the resemblance to OP Nayyar does the songs no harm at all. In fact, for those who enjoy music from old hindi cinema, it only adds a bit of familiarity, which is not such a bad thing. 

First Past the Post

I made this blog years ago (I don't even remember when) and then totally forgot about it. The funny thing is, when I did come back to my blogger profile right now, I realised that this was the perfect name for my blog. I have, as of right now, earned myself the name it carries, having successfully flunked several times since the creation of this blog. Also, the title of this particular entry has absolutely nothing to do with what is written in here, it happens to be the one random term I remember from Constitutional Law class, and is a terrible terrible way to convey the idea that this is indeed my first post here. So it stays.

Anyhow, since I am very unsure as to what a blog is supposed to be about, I am going to make it a collection of whatever it is that is on my mind at the moment that I begin to write a post. Right now that would have to be the diabolical craving for a cigarette, with the inevitable curses to yesterday's me for having smoked and distributed my meagre stocks indiscriminately, leaving me for the umpteenth time in this state of nicotine deprivation, while at the same time trying to debate the chances of success of another attempt to quit the habit altogether.

However, I shall try to raise myself above such base sentiment and will try to write about something else that is on my mind and is actually worth writing about. Right now, that happens to be CID. Not the never ending series starring the holy trinity of ACP Pradyuman-Daya-Abhijeet (and which has episode titles like Kissa Gumnam Qatil Ka, no kidding) but the 1956 movie starring Dev Anand, Shakila, and Waheeda Rehman. It's not a great film overall, but is certainly worth a watch not just for the entertainment it provides, but for the various things that come to mind while watching it, some believeable, some bemusing, and some just plain jaw dropping:

• Waheeda Rehman was really beautiful- not really a great one to begin with, I know, but still, it had to be said. CID was her debut hindi movie, handed to her by Guru Dutt as a sort of 'warm up role' to prepare her for Pyaasa, and she does a pretty good job. see here.
• Shakila is not just the Mallu porn star that every guy in his right mind is terrified of, but was the name of a pretty successful actress  during the 1950s and early 60s who moved to the UK (and I hope for her sake missed the assault on her fragile legacy by the South Indian siren) see here.
• Bombay in the 50s had so much space!! This is the most amazing of all things was evidnet while watching the movie. Bombay seems to have an endless supply of empty stretches of land, and fewer people than what an average chawl holds in 2012(see here and here); despite this, the movie also features the melodious 'Yeh Hai Bombay Meri Jaan' warning about the perils of big city life (so it can't be as utopian as it appears to be in the movie. Or was it?). Either way, the nature of the big city might not have changed with the passage of time, but the film certainly preserves a scarcely believable version of the behemoth that exists today. 

Moving on from the factual observations, what struck me the most about the movie, and with other movies from the same era that I have watched, is that there is a certain inherent optimism that existed in filmmaking in those days. India was fresh out of colonial rule, and the general feeling of optimism and self belief that existed in the aftermath of 1947 seems to find a way to permeate into the aura of the cinema and what it tries to portray. While being nowehere close to cinema in the west in terms of technique, script, screenplay, scale or budget (along the same time, Hollywood was engaging itself in leviathan projects like Ben Hur and The Ten Commandments), movies like CID retain that simple ability of telling a simple story simply- one with simple characterisations in black and white, one with a clear cut hero and villain, and one where its not so much about the answer to the question 'Whodunnit?' (this one's not for fans of edge-of-your-seat thrillers, the answer to the aforementioned question goes out of the window in the first quarter of an hour, acoompanied by a couple of really nice songs) but is more about the hero trying to do what's right, and succeeding at the end. Simple enough objective, fulfilled without great brouhaha.

I'm going to take one final step and give this movie a rating and make myself feel satisfied about writing my first blog post ever.

CID (1956)- Dev Anand, Shakila, Waheeda Rehman

A very satisfying 3/5. Pretty much what I'd give myself for this post.