The last of the classicists

Naushad Ali was a staunch advocate of Indian raga-based music in Hindi films

Partha Chatterjee Delhi

Naushad Ali passed away last month in Mumbai. He was 87. When he first came to the city from Lucknow in 1935, it was known as Bombay and was a leading port-city of British India. Sound had come to Hindi films just four years ago and songs dominated the narration, because they brought in the crowds. Hindi and Indian cinema then was inspired by folk theatre forms like tamasha, jatra and nautanki, which relied on songs to tell the story and engage a largely unlettered audience.

Naushad Saheb, who remained a staunch advocate of Indian raga-based music in Hindi films, knew no other music as he was growing up in Awadh and had the privilege of listening to great exponents of Hindustani music—vocal and instrumental—and of course folk singers of note. These two strains of music permeated his whole being.

When he first recorded seventeen-year old Noor Jehan in a duet with Surendra for Anmol Ghari in 1946 he made his presence felt. Her soaring, malleable, melodious, knowing voice juxtaposed against actor Surendra’s quiet, almost mournful, inward turning musings gave the song “Awaaz de Kahaan Heye Duniya Meri Jawan Heye” an uncanny feel of both life’s beauty and its finiteness. A year earlier another Naushad  composition  “Ankhiyon Milake Jiya  Bharmake Chale Nahin Jaana” from Rattan had taken the country by storm.

He was not alone in using classical or folk music in films. But what made Naushad’s melodies different was variety and his sense of rhythm. He was employing folk tunes from various regions ranging from Punjab, eastern UP, Bihar and Bengal.

Contrary to the popular, ill-informed view, he was constantly experimenting within the framework of his musical aesthetics. He and the cranky genius Sajjad were the only two composers from the golden age of Hindi film music who did not fall prey to the raucous influence of contemporary popular western music, although both were aware of western classical music. Sajjad took a shine to the rhythms of the waltz and introduced the piano to Hindi films. Naushad took it up and then passed it on to O P Nayyar who used it to great effect much later.

Naushad’s first assignment was in Station Master in 1937 but it was not until 1940 that the composer made a dent with Prem Nagar. It was another five years before he was accepted in the higher echelons of film music.

It is often said erroneously that Naushad had introduced Lata Mangeshkar as a playback singer in Mehboob Khan’s Andaaz in 1949. This is incorrect. She had already sung for Datta Davjekar in Aap Ki Seva Heye in 1944 and then for Ghulam Haider in Majboor (1947) where she sang “Dil Mera Toda, Kahin Ka Naa Chhoda”. What Naushad did for Lata in Andaaz was to bring her out of Noorjehan’s shadow and make her shine in her own right.

She became Naushad’s principal female singer, as Mohammad Rafi was to become a year later his first choice male singer in Mehboob Khan’s hugely successful swashbuckler Aan.

Shamshad Begum and Talat Mahmood had sung for him beautifully in Mela (1948) and their duet “Duniya Badal Gayee Meri Duniya Badal Gayee” became immortal. Each singer had a peculiarity. Shamshad’s voice was open, flowing like a stream and even after it thickened and changed texture it remained highly expressive. Her last solo for Naushad was the heart-wrenching “Holi Aai Re Kanhaai Holi Aai Re” for Mehboob Khan’s Mother India. (1956).

Talat’s voice capable of expressing subtle inflexions of mood was best suited to project Dilip Kumar’s romantic, introspective image. When he turned to more ‘virile’ roles, Mohammad Rafi became his onscreen musical voice. Similarly Mukesh, a soulful but problematic singer—he could go off pitch if his voice was not warm enough or the song did not suit him—found in Naushad a friend. “Jhoom Jhoom Ke Naacho Aaj” and “Hum Aaj kahin Dil Kho Baitheye” from Andaaz and his duet with Lata, 20 years later, “Husn-e-Jaana idhar Aaa” in Saathi do him and the composer great credit.

Certain Hindi films in the 1950s took on a heroic character in rendition and scale and Naushad was the perfect choice to do the music. Mehboob Khan’s Aan had Rafi sing “Maan Mera Ehsaan” and more memorably “Dil Mein Chupa Keye pyaar Kaa Toofan Le Chaleye”. Uran Khatola, a touching romantic fantasy also starring Dilip Kumar had such emotionally charged songs as “O Door Keye Musafir” (Rafi); “Dil kaa Paigham Le Jaa” (Lata); “Ghar Aaya Mehmaan” (Lata).

He used ragas and folk songs with flair. In Baiju Bawra (1957) there is “Tu Ganga Ki Mauj Meye” (Lata and Rafi) in Bhairavi; “Mann Tarpata Haridarshan Ko…” (Malkauns), Mughal-e-azam has Lata singing “Mohe Panghat Pe Nandlal” in Gaara; “Bekas Pe Karam Kijiye” in Kedar. The same film has Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan singing “Shubh Din aayo” (Rageshree) and “Prem Jogan Bann” (Sohni).

It was Naushad who got DV Paluskar and Amir Khan to sing in Baiju Bawra for a performance by Tansen and Baiju Bawra in Akbar’s court. For Kohinoor he cleverly used the lightning fast tans of Ustad Faiyyaz Ahmed Khan in “Madhuban meye Radhika Naache reye”, although Rafi sang the lyris. In the same film, Ustad Halim Jaffar Khan’s ebullient sitar can be heard to advantage. Ustad Rais Khan’s sitar in Ganga Jamuna  makes Lata’s rendering of “Dhundo Dhundo Re saajna Dhoondo” sparkle all the more.

He had been quite unjustly called an “old maid” in certain quarters and yet “Lo Pyaar Ki Ho Gaee Jeet” (Lata) from Jadoo has a kajri speeded up and accompanied by castanets turning into a Spanish dance piece. The song “Bachpan Ke Din Bhula Na de Naa” from Deedar (1957) has horses trotting the beat. It is clear that it was Naushad who inspired the maverick OP Nayyar to use the idea effectively in several of his own compositions.