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Light of the
Universe: Essays on Hindustani Film Music
Is the Hindi film music more literate and democratic than the earlier forms of Hindustani classical music and folk music? Was there an underlying suicidal wish in the popular romantic songs of lyricist Shailendra? Was Lata Mangeshkar’s singing de-sexed? Such are the interesting questions raised about popular Hindustani film music by Ashraf Aziz. Indeed, film music has inspired many a writer to go into its unique persona but this time the author is rather unusual. An instructor of anatomical sciences at Howard University, Aziz was born in Tanzania and in 1965 he moved to the United States for his Ph.D He calls himself an American of Indo-Pakistani origin, with an African experience and his dedication to the binding art of the popular culture of the Indian sub-continent is complete. The Three Essays Collective brings a revised and enlarged version of this book in which the author has gone not just into the anatomy of Indian film music but into its very soul. Building a strong case
for the film song in the long introduction to the new edition of the
delightfully intriguing essays, he writes: "Amongst the most
extraordinary developments in 20th Century India was the creation of
its equally particular soundtrack. Like the currency, the railway, the
Writing about the female voice in Hindi cinema, Aziz says that the forward march of the women singers came to an abrupt end with India’s Independence in 1947 when the author says the men were asserting their dominance and the women who had come out in the struggle for Independence had to be turned home to play the second fiddle. So the strong voices of the past gave way to the very feminine and docile renderings by Lata Mangeshkar. He writes: "In India , men found a willing and ardent ally of their cause in a teenager — Lata Mangeshkar. Women were homeward bound with Lata’s entry into cinema singing." He further goes onto describe her voice as that of a small girl, who has yet to reach puberty, as it travelled lightly with effortless agility. In contrast he points out: "In Mohammad Rafi men found their macho, vocal Rambo." The book includes a brilliant essay on "The lyrical romance of suicide as seen through the songs of Shailendra", perhaps the foremost lyricist of Hindi films who made his debut in Raj Kapoor’s Barsaat and formed a long association with him and Shankar Jaikishan, while giving luminous songs to other music directors like S.D. Burman, Salil Chaudhary and Ravi Shankar too. Shailendra came to a tragic end after he turned producer for his acclaimed film Teesri Kasam (1966), which was a commercial failure. Again Aziz finds in Shailendra’s love songs, which we have heard and found them moving, an obsession with death. He extends them to the loving lullabies: "All these gentle melodies transport the baby into sleep…. Sleep is Nature’s gentle way of allowing us a foretaste of death; in effect death is "permanent sleep". Readings of the film songs and the narrative thus is an attempt to start a conversation, and a successful one indeed. Besides conversation, his original analysis can well start a heated debate. These essays make for very interesting reading for those who would love to delve deep into the world of Hindi film songs and interpret them as they would like to.
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The author sees the
Hindi film song of yore as inseparable from India’s struggle for
Independence as it was the new medium giving voice to the history and
aspirations of the colonised Indian people. He thus goes onto analyse
various popular songs finding patriotism and the yearning for
Independence in the most unsuspecting of Indian film songs. His is
definitely a critic’s attempt to start a conversation or even an
argument of the genre. A diehard Noor Jahan fan, he sees women’s
liberation in her Zeenat (1945) film qawwali "Aahein na
bhari," and a cry for an end to colonial rule in the
evergreen love duet of Anmol Gharhi (1946) sung by her with
Surinder: "Awaaz de kahan hai".