Mujhe Dil se Na Bhulana

aina

Aaina (The Mirror) is an Urdu film released in March 1977. In total Aaina ran for 401 weeks–nearly 8 years–making it the longest running and biggest grossing Urdu film of all time. As such it is Pakistan’s only Crown Jubilee film.

 

Aaina is an interesting film for a number of reasons, none of which involve the plot. The story of love found, thwarted and regained is tired and predictable and forty years on makes one wonder what the fuss was all about. But move away from the narrative to the music, the direction and the acting and it is easy to see why audiences swarmed to the theatres week after week.

 

Though Lahore is considered the heartland of Pakistan’s film industry—hence the sobriquet ‘Lollywood’—the Punjabi capital was not the only city where movies were made. Karachi with its dramatic Arabian Sea backdrop, glitzy skyline and rich financiers was a natural magnet for filmmakers. And prior to the breakup of the country and the birth of Bangladesh in 1971, Dhaka, as well was growing into a production centre.

 

Though filmed in Karachi for the Urdu speaking audience, Aaina is in fact a Bengali blockbuster. The producer, director, music director, the two leading stars as well as one of the playback singers were all Bengali or had connections with the small but vibrant Dhaka-based film world.

 

Bengalis brought a different sensibility to film making which when done well film goers found refreshing and appealing. Aaina is a fine example of this. As a director, Nazarul Islam relished poking holes in social conventions. In Aaina he plays with the notion of the generation gap by turning it on its head. The wealthy, bridge playing, whisky drinking and status conscious older generation is depicted as the wayward and immoral generation. It is the young couple, played by Nadeem and Shabnam, who persevere in their love by invoking the established traditions of marriage, gender and decorum.

 

And it is the two leads who steal the show. Though Shabnam, a Bengali Hindu girl, was married to the film’s musical director, Robin Ghosh, it was the doe-eyed Nadeem who was her on-screen foil. For more than a decade the pair dominated the industry, each winning the most individual acting awards for their respective gender. In Aaina the chemistry between them is immediate, genuine and infectious. They were at the peak of their careers and filled the screen as a single and singular presence. Without a doubt it is this presence that made the film so successful.

 

But the music is also noteworthy. Robin Ghosh, the film’s musical director was a Christian who had an extensive knowledge of and exposure to western music that he used to great effect throughout his career. His soundtracks, including Aaina, are marked by a luscious sound that is sophisticated, elegant and wonderfully imaginative. Indeed, in one rather dreadful scene drunken party goers dance woozily to a sizzling James Brown R&B track which saves the entire episode from sinking into farce.

 

The key song of the film, Mujhe Dil se Na Bhulana (Don’t Ever Forget Me) is presented four different times in the film, each sung by a different artist or combination of artists. On each occasion Ghosh sets the song, which has a lovely hummable melody, in a distinct emotional context. To create the atmosphere he uses different instruments, arranges the song variously and works with different lyrics. The effect, rather than being repetitious, is that the soulfulness of the score and the film is enriched and enhanced.

 

Ghosh drew on the rich, melodious folk traditions of Bengal which has a completely different sound than the percussion driven Punjabi folk or raga based compositions employed by his peers in West Pakistan. Nazarul Islam also won praise for allowing Mehdi Hassan’s version of the song to stand on its own, without the lyrics being lip synced by the actor on screen.

 

 

In this version Ghosh uses the voices of Mehnaz, daughter of the noted soz khwan Kajjan Begum, and the rising Bengali pop singer Alamgir to deliver the goods.

Aaina

 

 

 

 

Akh Ladti Hai Jab Dildar Se

dil-nasheen

Dil Nasheen (Soulful) is an Urdu movie released in July 1975.

The film starred Nadeem and Shabnam, the undisputed dynamic duo of Urdu films whose antics and sexual frisson lit up screens throughout the  70s and 80s. Like Nadeem, who was the most decorated male actor in Pakistan, Shabnam (Dewdrop) garnered more Best Actress awards (13) than any of her female peers. Their combined presence in a film always gave the producer hope that he would recoup his investment.

Dil Nasheen was a big hit running for more than 30 weeks in the main cinema halls in Lahore and Karachi. The stars were both seasoned campaigners by this time. Shabnam, from a Hindu Bengali family, had begun her career in Dhaka, home to a small Bengali and (until 1971)Urdu language film hub.  It was in Dhaka that Shabnam first met her future co-star in the early 60s, as he tried to crack the industry as a playback singer.

The movie’s music was composed by M Ashraf, who after an initial successful phase of his career as partner to composer/arranger Manzoor, was by the early 70s getting a reputation as a brilliant ideas man on his own.  Ashraf loved playing around with western instruments, beats, phrases and melodies. Many of his compositions have found a second life in recent years as collectors and curators in the West have likened his fast-paced, ‘rockin and rollin’ compositions to those created by  R. D. Burman in India.

Akh Ladti Hai Jab Dildar Se (Eyes Fight With My Beloved When…)  opens with a perfect Ashraf sound confection. Within 30 seconds he has tipped his hat (probably unconsciously, but maybe not) to the rockabilly/early rock sound of Sun Studios. Jangling piano intro followed by a typical South Asian accordion solo followed by some rumbling Cash/Perkins-like guitar playing.

After one of the Moona Sisters–a 60s/70s girl/sibling act–sings the song’s first phrase our ears are tickled by some quick electric organ runs and a blazing guitar that would be at home in a Ventures show.   A few more lines–all pretty innoucous stuff about making eyes with your boyfriend–and still more instruments are brought in: trumpets, flutes and electronic keyboards.  In fact, it sounds as if a wedding band has wandered into the studio and each player is determined to outdo the other.

As the song progresses one gets the feeling that Ashraf doesn’t give a damn. Throw anything in there. Any beat, any sort of sound, any instrument (Harmonica? Sure. Accordion? Why not.) will do. It’s all a huge romper room of fun.  The singer and the lyrics are for the most part irritations, though near the end she does manage to throw in a few heavy sighs which mix nicely into the whirlpool of sound.

Finally, (and very sadly) the end is nigh and the trumpets and the electric guitar are in a dash to the finish line. Who can go faster and have the final say?  Of course, it is the guitar, Ashraf’s favorite child, that wins!

This is a blast!

Dil Nasheen