The Sensitive Lines of Tanvir Naqvi in The Forties and Fifties! (Part 1)

By Zulqarnain Shahid                                                                                                                                                

I was adding two and two, when a voice whispered to me: ‘Listen to this song!’

I nodded, and kept on adding two and two.

Suddenly, I felt a tug at my feet. Seemingly, a computer wire had entangled itself around me. As I tried to disentangle myself, it wrapped itself even more tightly around my calf. I sat looking at it in frustration.

Soon, I realized the symbolism of it all.

After all, symbols define life perfectly.

A few minutes ago, I had begun to listen to Noor Jahan’s famous number from Anarkali on the youtube, titled ‘Kahan tak suno ge kahan tak sunaoon.’ But, as the urge to add two and two took over, I completely forgot about the song, and indulged in the arithmetic.

Until, I was reminded that the song had something to say.

But, what was so symbolically relevant with this song. Without doubt, this song, written by Tanvir Naqvi, and composed by Master Inayat is a most beautiful one. The story penned famously by playwright and film scripter, Imtiaz Ali Taj, is steeped in history and legend. And the songs accompanying this story need it to be equally well connected to both, realism and symbolism. Looking into the bone marrow of this all-time hit number, one could find its depth charge.

Anwar Kamal Pasha’s film, Anarkali was released on 6^th June, 1958. Five lyricists wrote songs for this film, while two greatest of tunesmiths composed 8 songs for it. The composers were Rasheed Attre and Master Inayat Hussain, probably two of the most versatile men in the local industry. The 5 lyricists of the film were Tufail Hoshiyarpuri, Qateel Shifai, Tanvir Naqvi, Saifuddin Saif and Hakim Ahmed Shuja, the father of Anwar Kamal Pasha.

Although all 8 songs of the film were hits, three numbers stand out for their merging brilliance of the lyrics and the compositions. They are:

1. Kahan tak sunoge kahan tak sunaoon
2. Jalte hain arman mera dil rota hai
3. Sada hoon apne pyar kee

Considering that all the five lyricists of the film were mushai’rah poets, the caliber of the songs had to be top grade. If there was one man amongst them, whose attendance in the mushai’rah could be considered the least, it was Tanvir Naqvi. But, when you analyze the lyrics of all the songs, Tanvir Naqvi and Qateel Shifai wrote the two most symbolic ditties of the film.

Tufail Hoshiyarpuri’s Banwari chakori is the one truly classical number, sung brilliantly by Noor Jahan, and masterfully composed by Rasheed Attre. It is what you call a pure geet in the eastern classical tradition. But, it’s basically written on the habitual proverbs of the Hindi-Urdu language. There’s nothing novel or modern in its symbolism. And quite suitable, because that’s what is the need of the period film. Still, when you see that the film and its music has to also adhere and make sense to the audiences of the time, the song doesn’t hold any symbolic value in it. Qateel Shifai’s Pehle to apne dil kee raza jaan jaiyye is ordinary stuff. Saifuddin Saif’s Bewafa hum na bhoole tujhe has that dramatically haunting ululation, which is so powerful in those times, and which is unavailable today. But, as far as lyrics are concerned, it isn’t something novel, with only its last stanza of any consequence. Still, it affects you with its ghostly call and echo. Engineered brilliantly. Now, one comes to a lighter number, Qateel Shifai’s Tumhari aarzoo mein koocha-e-qatil tak aa pohnche. No doubt, it’s a good ghazal, with a couple of meaningful couplets in it. Yet, it doesn’t transcend the metaphors of the time. Nothing progressive symbol-wise. Hakim Ahmed Shuja also wrote a song in the film, titled Ik jaan thee paas woh jaan le kar hum teri gali mein aa niklay, which is a very likeable indeed, even if very similar to the mood of the earlier one.

In contrast to these five numbers, the above-mentioned three ditties are far stronger in their symbolic content, and their compositions are also superb that translate the mood superlatively.

Saifuddin Saif’s Jalte hain arman mera dil rota hai is composed by Master Saheb, and he begins with a poetic couplet rendered tantalizingly slowly and dramatically by Noor Jahan. Taken to a crescendo, where the actual song begins to unfold, the couplet sets the mood:

Kat-tee naheen hai gham kee raat, aa ke theher gaee hai kya

Neend to khair so gaee, maut bhee mar gaee hai kya

This couplet has a double symbol, revealing not only the heart-rending frustration of a woman in the Mughal era of Kings and slaves, but the depression and emotion of a whole nation at the way the darkness seems to be eternally present all around it. After this couplet, the song begins with a pre-knowledge of difficult circumstances.

Next, you come to Tanvir Naqvi’s Kahan tak sunoge, composed by Master Inayat. The song not only has the lyrical symbolism, but also compositional symbolism. As in Jalte hain arman, there are pre-asthai lines. Here, the situation of the song is this that Anarkali (Noor Jahan) is writing poetry in her letter to Prince Saleem (Sudhir), who later became Shahenshah Jahangir. Anarkali’s friend, Dilaram (Shamim Ara) offers to deliver the letter to Prince Saleem personally. As she approaches the Mughal Prince, and asks him if she should reveal the contents of the letter, the camera leaves the scene, and moves to the ghulam gardish (Hall of the Slaves), where Noor Jahan has already begun to croon the song on cue, which, apparently, the Prince is unable to listen to.

Senior writer and showbiz journalist, Ali Sufyan Afaqi writes in his column, Hazaar Dastan that Tanvir Naqvi was in the habit of writing his lyrics in his own bedroom, and he used to invite the music directors to the room, and would listen to their music, and meanwhile, he would come up with his songs. In the evening, he would wash and dress in pristine white kurta pyjama, put on a good scent, put oil in his hair, and sit against a gao-takya, starting to write the moment the mood hit him, as the music director starts to play his composition on the harmonium or baja, in the film parlance. Then, he would pen some of his best songs. Aside from Khwaja Khurshid Anwar, all other musicians would visit his house for matching compositions with Tanvir Naqvi’s lyrics. Khwaja Sahab preferred the studios.

Master Inayat had been asked to create music for Anarkali, but later, Attre Saheb was also roped in. Master Inayat used to do his work in a relaxed way, while Anwar Kamal Pasha wanted the full score in a limited time. Master Sahab always used to listen to the lyrics first, and then used to create music for it. He never used to make the music first. He said, “This is not the work of some carpenter that you just fix the limbs of the chair and it is ready. Music is not thoka thaki! It is creative work, and needs inspiration to work. Therefore, master Sahab told Pasha that if he wants quick work, then he’d better ask somebody else to make his music. When Rasheed Attre was approached, he was reluctant to replace Master Sahab. But, Master Sahab told him to go ahead, because he had turned down the job himself. That’s when Rasheed Attre agreed to do the film.

As regards, Kahan tak sunoge, when Master Saheb went to Naqvi’s house, and they worked it all out. It is Master Inayat’s voice you listen to during the song, when Sudhir replies to Dilaram, “Zubani sunao!” Master Inayat talked to Tanvir Naqvi about the song, and pointed out that when a kaneez talks to the Mughal Prince, the song should portray the immense distance of social station between them. She cannot just come up to him and ask him to listen to her poetic renderings. So, Tanvir Naqvi wrote those pre-asthai lines:

Mohabbat ka naghma hai, main naghma gar hoon

Yeh nama kisi ka hai, main nama bar hoon

Parhoon khat ke mazmoon zubani sunaoon

Then, the Prince replies: Zubani sunao!

After this, Noor Jahan starts the song from some other place in the palace:

Kahan tak sunoge, kahan tak sunaoon

Hazaron hee shikwe hain, kya kya bataoon!

When Master Sahab looked at Tanvir Naqvi’s lyrics, he was truly infatuated by the poetry, and said, “Wah, Tanvir Sahab, Kamaal kar diya! Humility, courtesy, grievance, the warmth of love, the liberty that she can take with the Prince, and at the same time, the respect of royalty, are all there in these lyrics.”

Now, I must tell you that this song was first written by Tanvir Naqvi for K. Asif’s famous period vehicle, Mughal–e–Azam. But, since it wasn’t included in the film eventually, the lyricist offered it for Anarkali. Only its pre-asthai lines were added in this song. Right from the beginning, the song tells you that very courteously, Anarkali makes it apparent to the future king that he just couldn’t begin to understand the problems she is facing while falling in love with him. He could only carry on this love affair at his own convenience, without realizing how precarious it is for her to go through all this, hiding this fact from a palace full of spies, since socially it is just not the done thing. This asthai tells the listener that there are thousands of issues that she faces, not one. For instance, just picking one at random:

Huzoor aap par ik jahan kee nazar hai,

Nigah-e-karam seke mujhko yeh dar hai,

Jahan kee nazar mein kaheen aa na jaoon!

This Anarkali in Tanvir Naqvi’s lyrics is an intellectual person, not just any common court detail, as is the case with Qateel Shifai’s lyrics. She reminds the Prince that he is an international figure, whose every gesture is noted by all. So, being linked with him, she is also elevated to a place, where she might be in the glare of the world. That factor, in her insight, is liable to put her life on a continuous risk of persecution at every step. Now, most other slave girls would give their right eye to be in this envious position to be in the loving embrace of the Mughal Prince, and thus noted at every step. Not Anarkali. She notes that she had a quiet and private life up until she was romantically introduced to the Prince. So, what she is saying is that his nigah-e-karam is not actually the warm embrace that most others would want. Commonly, this would be considered a pessimistic or cynical viewpoint, but actually it’s closer to the mystical angle, which Tanvir Naqvi pinned to her personality. For a lowly kaneez, this is a world view, which increases her IQ level to that of a princess.

Again, in the second stanza, Anarkali notes:

Zamana hua hai mujhe muskuraey,

Mohabbat mein kya kya na sadme uthaey,

Kisey yaad rakkhoon kisey bhool jaoon!

So, she is more concerned with the changes that are coming in her personality. She feels that she has become glum and grave, while she used to smile and sing in the past. Those changes make her think as to what she may become if this continues, since there is no chance of ever getting betrothed to the Prince. She feels these negative traits would change her into a frustrated and devious woman. Considering the fact that she was thought to have had been put behind a cemented wall, where she died, this point of view was perfectly relevant. Indian film, Mughal-e-Azam shows that Akbar-e-Azam didn’t act as ruthlessly as was first thought, and he let Anarkali escape through a tunnel, which was later cemented and closed, creating the legend that Anarkali was cemented into a wall. But, in Tanvir Naqvi’s lyrics, Anarkali seems to be closer to mysticism than being just a worldly woman.

The only song in the film that has precedence over Tanvir’s Kahan tak sunoge, is Qateel Shifai’s Sada hoon apne pyar kee. Once again, symbolism is at the heart of this number. Qateel Shifai may not be considered amongst the top ten Pakistani poets as an intellectual and international personality, he, nonetheless, was a very different man in the film industry. When analyzed as a film lyricist, the amount of classical lyricism and symbolism that Qateel put into his poetry is no less than any of the best in the game. He may not have written such bold lyrics as Sahir Ludhianvi or perhaps Habib Jalib, but his symbolism is amongst the best that could be imagined. You cannot disregard the brilliance of that symbolism in films like Naela (Door veeraney mein ik shama hai roshan kab se etc). That progressive class is evident in his film songs. In Anarkali, Noor Jahan is dressed in pristine white for this number, and swings to the melody in the wind. Composed on visionary notes by Rasheed Attre, this song goes like this:

Sada hoon apne pyar kee,

Jahan se be-niaz hoon,                                                                                    

Kisee pe jo na khul sakey,

Woh zindagi ka raaz hoon!

In progressive poetry, this is called the personification of the poetry. Where the person singing the song, turns into the song, the symbol, the meaning. Thus, this woman, in herself, is a secret, which isn’t revealed till the end. This is exactly the case, when you consider her legend, that she isn’t revealed till the end. What she says is that she is a voice of her love, and doesn’t care for the world. She has turned into an eternal song. Other lines of the song:

Sunein agar meri sada,

To chalte karwan rukein,

Bhula ke apni gardishein,

Mein husn ka ghuroor hoon

Mein dilbari ka raaz hoon!

I won’t go into the full lyrics, because this article is about Tanvir Naqvi. But, these lines show you that Qateel turns this woman, this character of the Mughal Darbar into a universal symbol. Symbols have a way of reaching you from across the universe. It is the call of the times. Here, it’s really beautifully done. Here, you can see how different in tone are these three songs from the other five numbers. They have a symbolic entity, which others are missing.

Poets and lyricists like Tanvir Naqvi and Qateel Shifai are rare even in the sub-continent film industries. Tanvir Naqvi belonged to a family, whose ancestors had come down to Lahore from Iran. The members of his family were immersed in poetry, and their inclination was towards literature and art. Tanvir was born Syed Khurshid Ali, in Lahore, on 6^th February, 1919. That being the case, you could place him in the times in the subcontinent, just after the end of the World War 1. This was a time of social and cultural upheavals in India. The young poet got his education from the institutions in Lahore, and grew up as a teenager, whose love for poetry of dissent was marked, just as many other young poets were writing poetry against the English empire. Tanvir’s father and his elder brother were both poets. Therefore, his inclination towards taking part in the poetry meetings wasn’t something strange. Very soon, he was stealing the limelight at these congregations from other young poets of his time.

Famous scribe, Zakhmi Kanpuri writes about Tanvir that his interest in films started at a young age. In those days, Lahore was already a centre of culture, and the Lahore film industry was burgeoning. So, Tanvir Naqvi also wrote lyrics for some of the Lahore films. But, soon he found out that Lahore was not churning out enough films to accommodate him. This made him venture into the Bombay Film Industry, in 1943. Actually, famous director, A. R. Kardar had You can imagine this was the times of the 2^nd World War, and most young poets were highly inspired by the world progressive movements, including the Socialist Revolution. Tanvir, too, was a progressive mind, and his poetry spoke of these current trends. Even his film songs show his inclinations. Yet, his classical basis made him a versatile poet and lyricist. He was not just limited to emotional poetry. His lyrics in pre-Partition films like Nai Dunya, Raja Rani, Badal, Swami, Salma, Laila Majnoon, Baap re Baap, Anmol Ghari etc prove this point. Some of his songs, which are all-time hits in Indian films of the Forties, belong to the classical style of writing that include qualities like lyricism, traditional meters, simplicity and poignancy etc. For instance, Noor Jahan’s all-time classic from Anmol Ghari, titled Awaz de kahan hai is an anthem of nostalgia itself. Whenever you think of old times, and the classical qualities of the age, you immediately think of this number:

Awaz de kahan hai,

Dunya meri jawan hai,

Abad mere dil mein,

Ummeed ka jahan hai,

Aisey mein too kahan hai!

These simple lines from Tanvir Naqvi holds a world of pathos and love for values. Noor Jahan and Surendar, both have their own way of singing in this number. Noor Jahan gives it the lost feeling, and also the taan that is needed to keep that nostalgia for old times, while Surender’s voice has the calm to complement Noor Jahan’s command. Naushad’s dreamy music is the vehicle that carries these beautiful lyrics. This is the first and last time that Tanvir partnered Naushad.

Aa raat ja rahi hai,

Yoon jaise ke chandni kee,

Baaraat ja rahi hai!

Chalne ko ab falak se,

Taron ka karwan hai!

Aesey mein too kahan hai!

It presents a dream sequence even if you haven’t seen the song on the big screen. Of course, this song has lyrical symbolism, the night, moonshine, caravan of the stars etc, but here, progressive symbolism is not there, basically because it isn’t needed. It’s nostalgic music.

Other songs by Tanvir Naqvi in Naushad’s Anmol Ghari are also mostly famous, namely 1) Aaja meri barbaad mohabbat ke saharey, 2) Mere bachpan ke sathi mujhe bhool na jana, 3) Jawan hai mohabbat haseen hai zamana, 4) Main dil mein dard bas alai, 5) Socha tha kya, kya ho gaya, 6) Kyun yaad aa rahey hain guzray huey zamaney, 7) Uran khatolay pe urr jaoon, and 8) Tera khilona toota baalak. Amongst these, Uran khatoley pe urr jaoon was beautifully sung by the famous duo of Shamshad Begum and Zohrabai Ambaleywali. A remarkable, charming number. The only song not written by Tanvir is Kya mil gaya bhagwaan mere dil ko dukha ke, which was penned by a man called Anjum Peeli Bheeti. Originally, Anjum was contracted to write all songs for Anmol Ghari. But, incidentally, some vengeful killer murdered him, and a very talented lyricist died tragically. Then, Mehboob asked Tanvir Naqvi to write the remaining songs for his film.

Amongst the above-mentioned songs, Tanvir Naqvi is not at his best in the majority of the songs. But, you can see his flow in Uran khatoley pe urr jaoon. Very relevant and cute. This song, basically, has just one stanza, and it is picturised on children. Its wordings are relevant to the times, with the children mentioning cycle and motor car in the song.

It was a time of the traditional stuff in film lyrics, and most songs expressed absolute despondency, especially the female sad songs, while the happy numbers also lacked the thought-provoking stuff. What I am talking about is the rarity of the progressive symbols and modern poetry. As it is, Aaja meri barbad mohabbat ke saharey had only one good couplet:

Aaey bhee na they, khushk huey aankhon mein aansoo,

Niklay bhee na they, lut gaey arman becharey!

Otherwise, it’s all very bland stuff. But, Awaz de kahan hai is full of powerful lines, as I discussed earlier. Mere bachpan ke sathi is short of caliber. Jawan hai mohabbat has some noticeable lines including:

Mohabbat karein, khush rahein, muskuraain,

Na sochein hamein kya kahey ga zamana!

Abhi tak mujhe yaad hai who kahani,

Na bhoole ga bachpan ka rangeen zamana!

But, it is in another tragic song, Kya mil gaya bhagwan that Anjum Peeli Bheeti has some ponderable lines:

Aakash hee dushman naheen, dushman hai zameen bhee,

Dukh dard ke maron ko naheen chaen kaheen bhee!

Here, Anjum shows us what was going through the back of the mind of most people in the sub-continent. It was seemingly on the personal level, but his wordings, “Aakash hee dushman naheen, dushman hai zameen bhee”, proves that it was a collective kind of tragedy. During the Forties and Fifties, in subcontinent films, this symbolic reference to the times being against love and peace began to crop into the lyrics. The ‘zamana’ has always been blamed in literature and social media from the beginning, but when it is mentioned that Aakash and Zameen are both enemies of love and peace, it is a general reference to God in heavens, as well as the people of the world. This, obviously, is all symbolic matter, and reveals that all around, the forces are not supporting individuals, who want to work for love and peace. In this case, the individual reference transcends one case, and envelopes the whole world. So, what we are seeing today, was always at the back of the mind of the creative people. You can see these references throughout the song:

Maloom na tha khak mein mil jaen ge ik din,

Khud apni hee hum aag mein jal jaen ge ik din,

Tum se to yeh ummeed na thee jag ke khiwaiyya,

Nayya ko dubo do ge kinarey hee pe la ke!

Soon after penning these lines, Anjum was murdered.

Similar strains follow in other stanzas of this song. It is a potent number. So, as far as quality work is concerned, these three songs stand out in the whole of the score of Anmol Ghari.

In short, these songs were mostly full of routine stuff, and traditional references, except for a few songs. But, they were simple, romantic numbers, with beautiful melodies. The music, of course, was superb, and lifted the songs from their despondent moorings. Today, when we remember these songs, we remember them due to our associations to those times. These simple lyrics meant a lot to us because of the everyday symbols that we attached to them. It was a matter of thought, although they were also very difficult times. It is said that the Fifties are the times of the progressive thought, and people began to rail against the barriers, at least through imaginations and writings.

In 1950, Tanvir came to Lahore, Pakistan. But, only 3 years had passed, when K. Asif asked Tanvir Naqvi to return to India for his monumental Mughal-e-Azam. You can imagine the calibre of Tanvir that K. Asif couldn’t get a lyricist of that quality in all of India, and had to ask for this young poet. Unfortunately, he had written four songs for the period flick, when Tanvir had a falling out with K. Asif, and came back to Lahore. After that, the songs of the film were penned by Shakeel Badayuni. Tanvir used three of those four numbers for the other Indian films, one of which is Lata’s famous hit from Sheerin Farhad, titled Guzra hua zamana aata naheen dobara. As I told you, he used Kahan tak sunoge in Anarkali. Zakhmi Kanpuri writes that Naushad gave Tanvir a ghazal by a local poet, Umar Ansari, which went: Kaho tum to roodad-e-ulfat bataoon/tumhee ko tumhari kahani sunaoon. Naushad wanted lines like those in the song. Tanvir came up with Kahan tak sunoge.

Tanvir was a diehard progressive, and he used to get together with people like Faiz Ahmed Faiz and others on weekly basis. They got together for personal discussions and decisions, as well as socialist party’s meetings. In these meetings, the topic also came up that the film industry should also be used to popularize their ideology, much in the same way as in India, Khwaja Ahmed Abbas and Sahir Ludhianvi were doing. That is why you see that men like Faiz, Jalib, Zaheer Kashmiri, Ustad Daman, Muneer Niazi, Saifuddin Saif, Ahmed Rahi and others wrote stories and songs for films, and some of them made films too.

In Intezaar, released in 1956, Khwaja Sahab had asked to write all songs to Qateel Shifai. And no need to mention that Qateel has written brilliant hits for the film, including Aa bhee ja aa bhee ja, Jis din se piya dil le gaey, O janey waley re, Sawan kee ghangor ghatao etc. Only one song, Chand hansey dunya basey is written by Tufail Hoshiyarpuri. But, in his next film, Koel, in 1959, Khwaja Sahab called in Tanvir Naqvi for all numbers. Here, you can see the versatility of Tanvir; his moods are admirable. Of course, Dil ka diya jalaya is the epitome of his class in this film, not only in its social meanings, but the inner, mystical sense. A recent book on Tanvir Naqvi has the same title as this number from Koel.

The other numbers of Koel, all written by Tanvir Naqvi, also have some novelty or the other. If the lyrics are simple, then the tunes were brilliant. Amongst them, the ones sung by and picturised on Noor Jahan are all superb tunes, namely Dil ka diya jalaya, Main ne tujh se pyar kyun kiya, Saagar roey, Mehki fazaein, Tere bina sooni sooni lagey re, and Rim jhim rim jhim parey phowar (with Munir Hussain). The other version of Rim jhim is sung by sisters, Naheed Niazi and Najma Niazi, on two children for the childhood romance. Two other numbers are sung by Zubeida Khanum for Neelo, which are club songs. So, such variety is brilliantly managed by Khawaja Sahab, as well as Tanvir Naqvi. Not only there are different moods in these songs, they have delicate changes in the intervals as well. Of course, this isn’t the time or place to discuss their finesse. I must note that Tanvir wrote his lyrics with the same sort of feeling and mood that Khawaja Sahab wanted portray in his songs. When such combinations come about, they are instant hits in films.

But, admittedly, none of the songs have the same effect as Dil ka diya jalaya. Here, the wordings match the tune to a tee. As I said earlier, this number has that mystical feeling and the lyrics that make the song an eternal melody. Now, the only way to define this song is to recall Saigol’s Diya jalao jagmag jagmag. I didn’t want to mention it, but to show you how different is this number, one must remember that that classical hit from Bijou Bawra, was pure raag, and very hauntingly powerful. Here, Khawaja Sahab wants it to be full of mysticism, as well as romanticism! That’s where the melody comes in. Mysticism is also there in Diya jalao, but an aggressive kind of mysticism, Jalali effect. In Dil ka diya jalaya, the need is for the romanticism and mysticism to unite into a fusion. It is at this moment that you begin to note the craft of Tanvir Naqvi. What he is implying, changes the whole symbolism of the song:

Dil ka diya jalaya, main ne dil ka diya jalaya,

Tujh ko kaheen na paya!

Dil ka diya jalaya, main ne dil ka diya jalaya!

Being the second song of the film, this number comes after the childhood number, Rim jhim rim jhim. Now, if you see the situation of the song, Noor Jahan, set to begin her career as a classical nightingale of the country, she naturally thinks of her late father, the classical maestro, Allah Bandey Khan (Alauddin), whose plane crashed, when she had just been born, and she thinks he is dead (in fact, he is alive). In the same breath, she avidly longs for her childhood boyfriend and lover (Aslam Parvez) to be there. So, by crooning ‘Tujh ko kaheen na paya’, who does she actually mean? Who is it that she can’t find no matter how deeply she looks under the all-revealing mystical light of her longing heart. Is it her father, or is it her childhood lover.

When you watch and hear the song in the course of watching the film, or just listen to it on your CD player, it dawns upon you that as in all good symbolism, the song, on its visual fringes, could mean either of them. But, another, and more mystical thought occurs to you, that she could be talking about God!

I mean, it wasn’t a period too far removed from today. So what if the new millennium has started. It’s just been 60 years or more from that day. It’s the poetic license that gives the poet the authority to mention something in symbolic form, when it isn’t said too clearly. This is considered layered poetry. The poet, here, could be making this observation that the situation is so despondent that the singer, apparently looking for her near and dear ones, is also struck by the singular absence of heavenly justice or of his spiritual presence. You can, without a semblance of doubt, feel the mystical sense in this song. It’s unmistakable. Just recite it yourself, and feel the inner glow of Noor Jahan’s deep-seated notes. Tanvir Naqvi has pointed out that while she looks far and wide in her heart’s spiritual light, she is not reciprocated by any spiritual halo. These brilliant lyrics, and a complementing, touching composition make this number is special one. It continues thus:

Kaheen na behla dil bechara,

Kaheen mila na mujh ko sahara,

Aas ke tarey doobe sarey,

Ghor andhera chhaya!

Tujh ko kaheen na paya,

Dil ka diya jalaya!

The second stanza also carries on:

Beet gaya hai aik zamana,

Kaheen mila na tera thikana,

Tak tak harey nain becharey,

Kuch bhee nazar na aaya!

It’s basically, a very touching number, and oozes sincerity. Thematically as strong, as composition-wise. Khawaja Sahab has used

Now, on to the next number, Main ne tujh se pyar kyun kiya. You can see that this is one-dimensional, though emotionally charged. High notes are employed in its stanzas. Lyrics are full of pathos, and they have been complemented by lovely music. Yet, you easily see through it. No inner meanings to it. It’s the treatment through music that makes impressive listening here. Try and compare it with Anarkali’s Bewafa, hum na bhoolay tujhe, which is banshee call from the dungeons, of a slave. That is when the kaneez is so desperate that at last she forgets she is talking about a Mughal Shahenshah. That treatment had a haunting effect, as if the voice is rising from a deep dungeon of the royal fort. Here, in Main ne tujh se pyar kyun kiya, O bewafa, it is only a common man, her childhood love she is recalling in sad tones. Therefore, there isn’t that much desperation, except for the end lines; there’s only a weepy moan, which is quite powerful in its own way.

Now, another astounding mood:

Saagar roey, lehrein shore machaaein,

Yaad piya kee aaey, naina bhar aaein!

You can feel, again, that the symbol has returned to the core of the song. It’s not one-dimensional. It’s the crescendo of the sea; the rising and falling of waves, the ghostly voice of the tempest. The poet has written it in the same vein, and music director has fabulously immersed the lyrics into the wine of the violin and cello. As the sea rises, in lyrics, the eye is filled with tears, to fall in the wind:

Lipat lipat kar lehrein jhoomein,

Barh barh kar sahil ko choomein,

Hum dukhyarey thaam ke dil reh jaein!

Yaad piya kee aaey, naina bhar aaein!

This is visibly romantic symbolism. He notes that while the sea waves always behave the same way in this season, wave upon wave overlapping, as if swinging together, and they kiss the beaches like lovers, the ones, who have lost their loved ones, and cannot hope to meet them feel denied and dejected. It’s nothing new from the sea, but symbolically this affects the lost ones. In Koel, this is the most dramatically evocative number that you can find. Khwaja Sahab was mostly brilliant, but even he could not touch the creativity and versatility of Intezar, Koel, Ghunghat, and Humraz. Romantically, you could say that Heer Ranjha had fascinating tunes, but when you talk of the dramatically haunting music, almost like symphonies, you must keep the above-mentioned films on top. That haunting stuff has strange bearings on the films. But, that is a subject I’ll take up some other time!

Then, Mehki fazaein is obviously delightful stuff. Khwaja Sahab had some nice happy songs too, and it’s not all tragic ones that he has composed. You can see how he goes berserk in Jhoomar, with Naheed Niazi singing superb happy songs for the innocent village belle, Musarrat Nazir. But, he does revel in the sad notes. Here, of course, there is a compelling melody of sweet notes. The lyrics in this one are the usual ones, slightly sensuous for the typical persona of Noor Jahan in Koel. A most flowing melody and a wavy motion that takes over the audiences. Next is another very different mood for the film, Tere bina sooni sooni lagey re, chandni raat. This isn’t the typically despondent setting. It is a lighter shade of sadness, where the lady is showing loving tantrums at missing her hero on a moonlit night. It’s unique in the fact that it is a sort of one-sided conversation in the song. Though this is a typical film mood, and the lyrics are simple, the lyricist and the composer have kept that conversational style up front, which makes this song so cute. Of course, Rim jhim rim jhim is amongst the top hits of Pakistan for the last 60 years or so. It is so vivid in its words and music that you can even hear rain coming down. First the children sing it, and then, later, the elders recall it and sing it enjoyably. That same effusively romantic feeling pervades this number that was the stuff of the Forties and Fifties in the subcontinent. The heroine is longing for a season, when there is eternal spring, which is common enough mood, but the music lifts it up as effortlessly as the sound is cool:

Rim jhim rim jhim parey phowar,

Tera mera nit ka pyar!

Chhan chhan bajey man ke taar,

Tera mera nit ka pyar!

Aaey mere paas tu aesey,

Door kabhi na jaey,

Murjhaein na khil ke kaliyan,

Aesi bhee rut aaey!

Aaey na pat jhar, rahey bahaar,

Tera mera nit ka pyar!

It’s the tinkle of the music that goes so well with end lines like chhan chhan bajey man ke taar. Once again, you cannot but note the haunting effect of Khwaja Sahab’s music and the selection of his instruments.

The two club songs, filmed on Neelo, at the club, are created with enough zing for a drunkard, as Aslam Parvez proves to be in the film. Dil jala na dil waley and Masti mein jhoom re are both sung by Zubeida Khanum. It was justifiably done that a different voice was picked for the vamp, Neelo. The lyrics in these songs have enough charm to become popular hits, but the lyrics and work of the other songs are far up the scale than these two. Still, you can see that how versatile were these genius men.

In 1959, two other films are worth talking about, regarding Tanvir’s lyrics and the overall music. They are Khwaja Sahab’s Jhoomar, and Hasan Tariq’s debut film, Neend.

As far as Jhoomar is concerned, this film is known for Naheed Niazi’s cute numbers. With a good, and appealing storyline, the music was built around the beautiful village belle, Musarrat Nazir. Two of its famous numbers are Chali re chali re chali re, and Na koi saiyyan mera na koi piya re. Both songs have the vivacity that was the part and parcel of Naheed Niazi. But, the first one describes the defiant attitude of a village girl, who will go through hell or high water to reach her love. In this song, Tanvir has simple, but expressive lyrics:

Chali re chali re chali re,

Bari aas bandha ke chali re,

Main to des piya ke chali re!

Door hai manzil chalte chalte,

Par gaey chaley paon mein!

Kon sa rasta le jaega,

Mujhe piya ke gaon mein!

Koi bata de,

Mujh ko dikha de,

Mere saiyyan kee gali re!

Main to des piya ke chali re!

This is factual, as well as symbolic. But, in a simpler way, since all struggle is for a destination. Of course, here’s the need for the straightforward village belle to reach her lover, and that’s a matter of the pure and simple truth to win through the hurdles race.

As for Hasan Tariq’s Neend, written by Riaz Shahid, the songs that matter, lyrics wise, are mostly based on the common lingo of the slum dwellers, as the story is about the coal-picker women. The language or words used in songs like Ho gaee mufat badnaam, Jiya dharkey sakhi re and Akeli kaheen mat jana etc, the lyricists, Tanvir and Qateel have done a fine job. Songs like Tere dar par sanam chaley aaey, or Kyun udaas ho rahey ho shaam kee tarah etc, are few and far between, which have that classical flow of the literary language.

In 1960, Rasheed Attre gave music for Nazeer Ajmeri’s social picture, Salma, which was a remake of his Indian venture, sometime back. This was the first film for Noor Jahan, where she was the playback for any other actress. Tanvir Naqvi wrote that famous song for Noor Jahan in this film, which is arguably the sweetest and most peaceful number she ever sang for films, titled Zindagi hai ya kisi ka intezaar. While Attre Sahab fused the eastern and western notes so perfectly in this one that you marvel at it, Tanvir’s lyrics are also tremendously effective in creating the calm that was required:

Zindagi hai ya kisi ka intezaar,

Badliyon kee orhni se chandni,

Janey kisko jhankti hai baar baar!

Khatm hoti naheen shauq kee justuju,

Apne dil mein liyay pyar kee aarzoo,

Koo ba koo gai hawa-e-mushkbaar,

Janey kisko jhankti hai baar baar!

It is a ditty, where a good poet is called upon to employ his symbols. And Tanvir does so with gusto. It’s all about life, and its scented meanings, which stretch beyond the romantic feelings. A sort of dreamy sequence, where life doesn’t forget its higher goals, and its positive energy! In this context, Khatm hoti naheen shauq kee justuju holds a depth of purpose, while hawa-e-mushkbaar is the call of the positive energy to come hither.

Naseem Begum also sang two famous numbers from Salma, namely Dolein mere paon, jhoolein mere jhumkey, and Wah jee wah. These were also written by Tanvir. One of the rarest occasions, when Noor Jahan and Naseem Begum sang for the same film!

In the year 1960, Tanvir wrote lyrics for another three films. First was Ayaz, a period film on Mehmood Ghaznavi, and his vizier, Ayaz, played respectively by senior Indian actor, Ghulam Mohammad, and Habib, who had recently made his debut in films. The second one was Rahguzar, starring Aslam Parvez and Sabiha Khanum, helmed by the famous Socialist director from India, Zia Sarhadi (the father of Khayyam Sarhadi, and grandfather to Zhalay Sarhadi), who made Hum Loag and Footpath in united India days. He third film of the year, for which Tanvir wrote lyrics, was Humsafar, which also sported a song of Hemant Kumar.

In Ayaz, created by Luqman, the song that was the toast of the country, and has transcended times, is Naheed Niazi’s chorus number, Raqs mein hai sara jahan. Music is, again, by Khurshid Anwar, and lyrics by Tanvir. Aside from its Egyptian pirouette music, it’s most endearing aspect is its lyrics. Perked up by clapping and the rousing sound of the nafeeri, it is a perfect vehicle for the vivacious voice of Naheed Niazi. Only she could have done justice to this kind of song, as she has sung songs in different languages in our films. Or perhaps Iqbal Bano could have sung it well. But, I would still go for Naheed. The rhythm and lilt of this song is second to none. Tanvir wrote it like this:

Raqs mein hai sara jahan,

Dhoom hai yeh aaj yahan,

Aaey ga woh shah-e-Khooban!

In this song, which is, of course, a song of the jashn, revelry and celebration is to kept at the forefront:

Chand naya, raat nai, chaer nai dastan,

Naaz bhee hai, rang bhee hai, husn bhee hai gulfishan,

Bazm jami, shammein jali, Zindagi hai Shadman!

In the same way, in another stanza:

Chang bajey, tari bajee, ghunche khilay noor ke,

Mehndi rachi, Sehrey gundhey, aaya sanam door se,

Jis kee nazar jadoo bhari, jis kee ada dil satan!

Here, Tanvir shows his calibre with his persianized vocabulary. In this song, he has taken care to show the true colours of the revelry of the Turks that they indulged in when they celebrated their victory with a city of the embroidered tents in the middle of the desert. Dancing women were decked up in bright colours, and winking jewelery. Lamps were hung in the tents, and talented musicians and funsters were called up for the occasion. This is what Tanvir pictures in his lyrics in this tremendously created number.

Another song from this film, Ayaz was the na’at that is very impressively picturised.  This was sung by Zubeida Khanum and Naheed Niazi in a chorus. The asthai has two parts, one Arabic, and the other Urdu. The Arabic part, “Balaghul-ulab-e-kamalihee” is, of course, the famous poetry from Sheikh Sa’di, while the next is phrased:

Jo na hota tera jamal hee,

To jahan tha khwab-o-khayal hee,

Salloo alaih-e-wa-aalehee!

The stanzas are beautifully written. And the wordings once again reveal to you how inspiring all this was. For those, who would point fingers at leftist and progressive men like Khwaja Khursheed, and others, this was a testament to his committed work that he brilliantly composed this na’at, which is a source of joy for all kinds of listeners. If anything, it serves to prove that all this nonsense about the lack of commitment in religious matters from the leftists or the Socialists has been going on for too long. This number was not only brilliantly done, but filmed on a grand manner, with the top female artistes starring in it.

In Zia Sarhadi’s Rahguzar, Tanvir Naqvi wrote some inspiring stuff too. Two numbers from this film were very famous, one being the Salim Raza-Zubeida Khanum duet, Tere jahan mein hamein mila kya, while the other one was Saleem Raza’s all-time favourite hit, Magar ae haseena-e-nazneen, mujhe tujh se koi gila naheen. The music of this film was given a youngster of fine talent, Mulsehuddin. The Bengali musician did his job so well that despite the failure of the film at the box-office, the music is still remembered.

Saleem Raza’s brilliant song, Magar ae haseena-e-nazneen is still remembered for not only its poetic recitation and its stunning accordion pieces, but also for the flowing stanzas of rich Persianised lines:

Teri berukhi bhee qubool hai,

ke yeh apne dil ka usool hai,

Tu nigah-e-shauq kee bhool hai,

Tera aitebaar fuzool hai,

Magar ae haseena-e-nazneen,

Mujhe tujh se koi gila naheen!

And also:

Tera husn fitna-e-dehr hai,

Tera rang aag kee lehr hai,

Teri ankhriyon mein woh zehr hai,

Jo bala hai zulm hai qehr hai,

Magar ae haseena-e-nazneen,

Mujhe tujh se koi gila naheen!

You can notice the mastery and flow of these lyrics; and you can also understand how literary these lines were. Aslam Parvez is shown singing these lines in front of the Bazar-e-husn. These lyrics are not only the language of a jilted lover, but of a man, who even loses interest in the fact that he has been denied love by a woman of the bazar. In this song, you find that he doesn’t have many expectations from any person, and he takes it in his stride. On the other hand, the symbolism of the times colours it even deeper. The lack of fidelity in this woman alternates as the personification of the signs of the end times, the fitna-e-dehr, and dips her features into the poison of the times. She becomes a temptress, who is there in the bazar to test men. Actually, it’s a symbol for the feverish change of the times, which catches men unawares. Knowing Tanvir Naqvi, he takes another shot at the signs that are too apparent. And that’s why he shoves aside whatever passes for the hurdles of the game!

In another movie of the same year, Humsafar, Tanvir wrote for Indian great, Hemant Kumar, while the music was given by Timer Bern, a known music director from India, who had especially come over for a few films in Pakistan (Faiz’s Jago Hua Savera being one of them). Tanvir wrote this song, titled Raat suhani hai, khoya khoya chand hai, which Hemant Kumar sang in his unmistakeably dreamy voice. It is an intoxicating number, indeed.

Tanvir Naqvi’s exploits in the Forties and Fifties made the films and music of the sub-continent richer. But, poetry is just one aspect of a good song, and that’s where our music was so brilliant that our music-makers were equally talented, and translated the mood of the poetry into ear candies of the first order.

 

Look for (Part 2):

The Evocative Pen of Tanvir Naqvi in The Sixties