Gulzar once said lyrics should “amaze or amuse”, or otherwise no one would care. In his six-decade career as a poet-lyricist, he certainly stuck to this principle.
His best work in the first half of his career was with R.D. Burman. After a lull following Burman’s death, with composers like A.R. Rahman, Vishal Bhardwaj and Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy entering his world, his lyrics gained a new ferocity, as filmmakers and their gradually evolving subject matters gave him room to experiment and push the envelope.
Here are only some of Gulzar’s best-written (not necessarily his most successful) songs.
‘Mora Gora Ang’, Bandini (1963)
A textbook example of how Gulzar turns a traditional love song into something ethereal: evoking “Shyam”, which means evening as well as the Hindu god of love Krishna. He writes: “Mora gora ang lai le, mohey shyam rang dei de / Choop jaungi raat hi mein, mohey pee ka sang dei de” (‘Take my fair body, colour me as dark as shyam / I will hide myself in the night, grant me the company of my beloved’).
Can you see the fragrance of the eyes? Gulzar can. This was among one of Gulzar’s earliest songs where a sensory experience is accorded to a body part to which it is foreign. But what makes this song work, after its unorthodox opening, are the graceful lines that follow.
The final verse brings to mind several real-life entertainers who appeared happy on the surface but hid their torment behind silence: “Jinhone sajaye yahan mele, sukh dukh sang sang jhele / Wohi chunkar khamoshi, yoon chale jaaye akele kahan”. (‘Those who brought people together, shared joy and sorrow with them / They choose silence and leave alone’).
Among one of Gulzar’s earliest political songs, the lines here are caustic and timeless. In one verse, he refers to the ruling class with “makaanon pe pagdi waale sasur khade” (‘Tough father-in-laws stand atop buildings’), which is rhymed with “koi in buzurghon se kaise lade?” (‘How do we fight these old men?’).
In another, he explains the food-and-money situation with the image of a roti rolling down the street followed by a silver coin, but a kite flies away with the roti and a crow escapes with the coin.
‘Musafir Hoon Yaaron’, Parichay (1972)
Gulzar creates some really simple but evocative images in this song about a wanderer. He writes, ‘if one path didn’t work out, another came by, and sometimes the path followed me the way I turned’. Then he writes: ‘sometimes the day beckoned me there, the night called me there, I made friends with both dawn and dusk’.
‘O Majhi Re’, Khushboo (1975)
Rivers, shores and boatmen are recurring images in Gulzar’s lyrics, and this is perhaps his most definitive song in that respect. Among the stand-out metaphors here is Gulzar’s description of lonely wanderers as eroded strips of land floating in search of a shore.
‘Dil Dhoondhta Hai’, Mausam (1975)
In contrast to the upbeat tune, Gulzar’s free verse about reminiscing an old love is rather poised and graceful.
The lyrics perhaps may be better appreciated if read as a poem. Some pleasant imagery here: “Jhaado ki narm dhoop aur aangan mein letkar aankhon pe kheenchkar tere daaman ke saaye ko / aundhe pade rahe kabhi karvat liye huye” (‘I lay prone in the courtyard under the soft shade of trees, drawing your shadow over my eyes, sometimes twisting and turning’).
Tere Bina Zindagi’, Aandhi (1975)
Once again with a romantic song, Gulzar’s powerful introduction sets up and defines the sort of love to be explored. This time, there’s affection, but between old souls: ‘Without you, I have no complaints with life, but life isn’t life without you’, he writes.
August 18 is Gulzar’s birthday.
