Chhaayaageet #238 - “Wah, yeh shabd to bilkul upparwale ke saath jodte hain.”
Great, these words connect you to the Almighty.
The filmmaker and the composer share a long history dating back to their theatre days at Prithvi. The theatre had been the launchpad where countless artists found their first voice and stage to shine. The filmmaker was deeply influenced by the powerful, soul-stirring music the composer created for the theatre productions. He would jokingly share that the composer would someday score the music for his own debut film. In his mind, the filmmaker was quite serious.
The filmmaker’s journey in the film world is one of perseverance. He begins as a clapper boy, learning the ropes of the industry. Over time, he moves up to a film editor and eventually assistant director, working for one of the best in the industry. His inclination is towards gritty realism and bold storytelling. Very much focused on the youth of the day, their challenges as they face unemployment and resort to violence to create a version of their own fair world.
Lately, the filmmaker has been busy raising finances for his debut venture. The storyline is similar to the one that he assistant-directed some time back. The theme still sticks with him. As he is making decisions on different aspects, the music is a no-brainer. He makes a call to his old friend.
“Sardar, kya haal hai? Main meri debut film bana raha hoon. Aur chahta hoon ki tum film ka music sambhalo,” he says to the composer. Sardar, how are you? I am producing my debut film. And want you to take care of the music.
The composer can’t believe it. What he once thought was just a joke will now become a reality. “Ye to bahut acchi khabar hai. Aur gaana kaun likh raha hai?” This is great news. Who is the lyricist?
“Gaana likhna aur compose karna, sab tumhare uppar hai,” the filmmaker reveals. Writing songs and composing is all on you. The filmmaker is eager to hand over all things music to the composer and move on to other areas of the production.
The composer agrees and hangs up. For some reason, he keeps thinking about his theatre buddies and close friends, especially this one guy who writes ghazals and poetry for newspapers and magazines. He has simplicity, but also the sharpness that makes it so much more powerful than a sword. He calls the lyricist and gets an ecstatic yes from him. They both agree to meet and go over the situation.
“Ye ek prarthana hai. Is mein ek naani maa aur uski poti ye gaana kuch garam khoon nau jawanon ke liye gaa rahe hain,” the composer explains the situation to the lyricist. This is a prayer. There is a grandmother and her granddaughter who are singing this prayer for these hot-headed young men. After listening to the situation, the lyricist gets right to the business of writing the song.
A few days pass. The lyricist comes back to the composer with the written verses. “Sun ke batao, yeh kaisa lagta hai?”, he asks the composer. Listen to this and tell me how it is.
The composer shakes his head disapprovingly, “Nahin yaar, kuch maza nahin aaya. Ye prarthna hai gaana nahi. Aur koshish karo.” No, this isn’t good. This is a prayer, not a regular song. Try again.
The lyricist spends the next few days writing verses, putting pen to paper daily, only to tear each attempt away, determined to find those perfect words that the composer will like. He is eager to impress him. Now it has been almost a month, and he is nowhere close to anything that he can present to the composer. He decides to break the bad news.
“Main ab haar chuka hoon. Kaafi kuch likhta par woh baat nahi hai jo aap ko chhaiye. Aap kissi aur se likhwa lijiye,” the lyricist shares with an air of resignation. I think I am ready to give up. I wrote a lot, but nothing came close to your expectations. Please get this written by somebody else.
The composer thinks for a moment and says, “Chalo, ek lambi drive par chalte hain.” Let’s go on a long drive.
They get in the car. “Chalo Borivali ki taraf,” he instructs the driver. Let’s go to Borivali. The lyricist realizes it will indeed be a long drive from Sion to Borivali.
Driving by Aarey Milk Colony and the adjacent National Park, anyone from the city would feel an immediate clearing of the mind as the air turns fresher and cooler. The composer breaks the silence, “Pataa hai, jab koi nayi jagah jaate hain, naye khayal milte hai. Chalo ganne ka ras peete hain.” Do you know when you go to a new place, new thoughts come to mind. Let’s drink some sugarcane juice.
They stop at a roadside sugarcane juice shop in Borivali. As they sip the sweet juice, the lyricist's face lights up.
“Kuch dimaag mein aa raha hai,” he exclaims. A few lines come to mind. The lyricist gets the words out as fast as he can. “Yeh mukhda kaisa rahega?” How does this mukhda sound?
The composer leans forward, “Wah, yeh shabd to bilkul upparwale ke saath jodte hain.” Great, these words connect you to the Almighty. The composer starts humming the same words in a tune.
They hurry back to the composer’s place. By the end of the day, the song is complete. A prayer emerges that transcends the test of time and resonates with the masses.
Abhilash (born as Om Prakash) wrote the lyrics of the song Itni Shakti Humein Dena Daataa in the film Ankush (1986). Kuldeep Singh composed the music, and N. Chandra produced/directed/wrote/edited the film. The playback for the song is provided by Pushpa Pagdhare and Sushma Shreshta (now goes by Poornima). The song is picturized on Ashalata Wabgaonkar and Nisha Singh.
N. Chandra’s first film, Ankush, came from his desire to depict the struggles of unemployed youth in Mumbai and address social realities. Having worked as an assistant director on Gulzar’s Mere Apne, N. Chandra was influenced by Gulzar’s portrayal of middle-class life and social issues. This experience shaped him as a great storyteller of such social issues. N. Chandra took on multiple roles, including producing, directing, writing, and editing the film on a modest budget.
The main character of Ravi (Ravindra) in the film Ankush was loosely based on the character Shyam, played by Vinod Khanna in Mere Apne. The role of Ravindra was written with the leading actor of Marathi cinema, Ravindra Mahajani, in mind. But when N. Chandra couldn't afford him, Nana Patekar was brought in. He was eager to do the same role and signed on for just 10,000 rupees.
Kuldip Singh was a good friend of N. Chandra from the theatre days and was the first choice for a composer when N. Chandra decided to make his debut film. Kuldip Singh made a decision to go ahead with Abhilash for the lyrics. They both worked well together, and given the budget, Kuldip Singh did not have the flexibility to go for the more established lyricists. Luckily, Abhilash was available and as hungry to get in films as Kuldip Singh. Since the song featured a grandmother with her granddaughter, they decided to get Sushma Shreshta to sing for the young girl’s voice.
The song Itni Shakti Humen Dena Daataa is widely used in schools in India as a starting prayer before classes begin. In a recent incident, when Prime Minister Narendra Modi visited Russia, he was told by some Russian students about how they were learning to sing Hindi songs. When he asked them to sing something, they sang this specific prayer.
The film was later remade in Tamil as Kavithai Paada Neramillai and in Kannada as Ravana Rajya. While the film did not bag any awards, it was wildly successful at the box office and helped in launching director N. Chandra’s career and introducing Nana Patekar as a remarkable actor.
Music: Kuldeep Singh
Lyrics: Abhilash
Singers: Pushpa Pagdhare, Sushma Shreshta
*ing: Ashalata Wabgaonkar, Nisha Singh
Producer/Director/Writer/Editor: N. Chandra
Film: Ankush (1986)