Chhaayaageet #235 - “Tumne kamal kar diya. Yeh lo shagun rakho.”
You did it. Keep this token of gratitude.
It is a quiet night, and now almost past midnight. The composer sits at his harmonium, restless and searching for the right tune. For the past few days, he has been thinking about the filmmaker’s taste. All the songs the filmmaker has made for his previous films. Several things stand out. All have been super hits. They all sound very soothing and follow the same pattern of being soft, gentle, and rhythmic. This filmmaker has always influenced the music of his films with all the other composers. The composer knows this and wants to give him something that will touch his heart.
A few songs are already under the belt. Now it's this one song remaining. The courtesan is leaving the mehfil after her performance. Almost like a farewell. It shows her inner loneliness and her longing to be loved.
Then, finally, at 3 a.m., magic happens. A new tune flows from his fingers, smooth and graceful. He stops in surprise, then plays it again. He cannot wait. He picks up the phone.
"Bhai, ho gaya,” Brother, it’s done, he says with excitement.
The filmmaker is still rubbing his eyes. “Raat ke teen baje hain. Kya ho gaya?” It’s 3 am in the night. What is done?
“Ek nayi dhun mili hai! Aapko sunani hai abhi." I found a new tune. I want you to hear it now. The composer is still unable to control his excitement.
The filmmaker, though half awake, cannot hide his eagerness. "Driver bhej raha hoon. Tum fauran aa jao." Ok, I am sending my driver. Come over right away.
Within the hour, the composer reaches the filmmaker’s home. He gets settled down on the ground near the harmonium. He begins to play. The melody fills the room. The composer keeps hitting the body of the harmonium with his palm to introduce beats along with the tune. The filmmaker starts to shake his head gently, trying to imagine the shot of the film along with this tune.
The sound of the tune expands into the depths of the hall and from there down the hallway. The composer sees from his peripheral vision that someone is walking towards them. He knew that the filmmaker’s wife is also the lead actress of this film. In his heart, he is secretly hoping it is her. A rare opportunity to see a beautiful actress without her makeup in the wee hours of the night. The actress appears, wrapped in a robe. Her steps are unsteady. Everyone knows how much she drinks these days. Still, the tune is dragging her there.
She whispers, "Yeh… yeh kaunsi dhun hai?" What… what is this tune? If there was any doubt about her inebriated state based on her walk, her voice clarifies that. Words are making an effort to come out of her mouth. The composer pauses, not knowing what to do. He is looking for a cue from the filmmaker.
“Bajaaiyeee naaa, ruk kyuuun gayeee?” Play it again, why did you stop? The actress’s voice is dragging, but her eyes are searching for something else.
The composer resumes the tune with the same rigor as before. The actress suddenly shows up with the sound of ghungroo. Her feet and the ghungroo in them begin to move, first slowly, then with feeling, as she starts dancing to the new tune. Still under the influence, but now it’s all about the energy of the tune and her ghungroo. The room falls silent except for the music and the sound of her steps. The filmmaker’s eyes lit up, and he is in total awe.
He takes out money and presses it into the composer’s hand, a gift to mark this moment. "Tumne kamal kar diya. Yeh lo shagun rakho." You did it. Keep this token of gratitude. He says softly as he wipes his face of running tears. This moment is quite delicate for him. Their love story has come a long way. With all the ups and downs, and now her drinking habit.
Days later, in the recording studio, the female singer arrives to bring the tune to life. Everyone is feeling the pressure. Both filmmaker and composer are looking for nothing short of perfection. The orchestra makes some initial mistakes, and they start again, and then again. One try, then another, then another. Now the singer falters a few times. It’s been several now… seventeen times. Eighteen. Yet the recording is not approved. It’s almost his life story coming together in this song. The filmmaker blinks his eyes at the composer for yet another one.
Finally, on the twenty-first attempt, everything falls in place. The voice, the music, and the spirit are all aligned. The filmmaker closes his eyes. In his mind, he sees that night again—the stumbling steps of the actress, the sound of her ghungroo against the floor, and the birth of a song that will live on forever.
Ghulam Mohammed composed the song Chalte Chalte Yun Hi Koi in the film Pakeezah. Kamal Amrohi wrote, directed, and produced the film. The lyrics were written by Kaifi Azmi and playback was provided by Lata Mangeshkar. The song featured the actress Meena Kumari as the courtesan in the film.
The making of Pakeezah began much earlier than its release date. Kamal Amrohi started the project in the mid-1950s, envisioning it as a tribute to Meena Kumari, who was his wife at the time. Initially, the film was planned to be shot in black and white, but as new color films became popular in India, the team decided to switch to color to keep up with changing times. This decision caused delays and required some scenes to be re-shot. Ashok Kumar was originally chosen to play the main male role, and filming even began with him. After a while, the plan changed. Ashok Kumar was then given another character in the story, and eventually, Raaj Kumar was selected to play the main male lead. The work on the film was often stopped and restarted due to personal issues and technical challenges. Despite these setbacks, filming finally resumed, and the movie was completed after more than a decade.
Ghulam Mohammed, a talented composer with a rich background in classical music, was chosen by the filmmaker for Pakeezah because of his gifted work on earlier films, especially Mirza Ghalib. He spent years pouring his heart into each composition and rehearsed several songs to perfection. Sadly, while the film was still in production, Ghulam Mohammed passed away in 1968, leaving his masterpiece unfinished. To honor his contribution, his close friend and respected music director, Naushad, stepped in to complete the background score and recorded the last two songs for Pakeezah.
Kamal Amrohi and Meena Kumari's relationship was deeply intertwined with the making of Pakeezah. Married in 1952, their marriage was filled with both ups and downs. Kamal Amrohi saw Pakeezah as a tribute dedicated to Meena Kumari. However, their relationship faced many challenges, including separation around 1964. Meena Kumari struggled with alcoholism, partly due to her health issues and personal pain. Despite these difficulties, Kamal’s strong devotion to completing Pakeezah brought them together professionally again. Meena Kumari passed away shortly after the film’s release.
When Pakeezah was first released in 1972, it did not immediately become a hit. However, the film slowly grew in popularity over time. Much of its later success was attributed to the audience’s sympathy after the lead actress’s death soon after the release. During the Filmfare Awards, there was controversy around composer Ghulam Mohammed and Meena Kumari not getting the awards for their specific contributions in Pakeezah. Many critics and fans felt this was unfair. Filmfare dismissed this, saying they do not give awards to artists posthumously.
Pakeezah is cited as a favorite film by many celebrities from both India and Pakistan. The film’s timeless charm, haunting music, and Meena Kumari’s unforgettable performance have earned it a special place in the hearts of everyone across generations and borders.
Music: Ghulam Mohammed
Lyrics: Kaifi Azmi
Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
*ing: Meena Kumari
Producer/Director/Writer: Kamal Amrohi
Film: Pakeezah (1972)