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 The
recent Venus compilation of cover versions, Shaayari Ke Saath
Hungama Ho Jaaye, left me hopelessly nostalgic. One could like
or dislike the accompanying shaayari. One could be a shade irritated
by the inlay gaffes (like Caravan’s music being credited
to Laxmikant-Pyarelal), but one cannot quarrel with the brilliant
selection of cabaret and allied numbers. It is a compilation that
could well have been conceived in all its pristine originality by
HMV.
For SKSHHJ
(the title in short) highlights a chapter that has long drawn to
a close in Hindi films, those lovely cabaret numbers that tantalised
without cheap titlllation, boasted of elegantly saucy and naughty
lyrics set to frisky beats and a tune often enmeshed in a raag.
My memory went on a flashback mode to an era when the likes of Helen,
Bindu, Aruna Irani and other vamps, molls and dancers came in to
entice the front-benchers with classy songs, whereas today we have
heroines going miles ahead in voyeuristic skin show, with blatant
choreographic movements, cheap or trite lyrics and mediocre music,
only to remain in memory as long as those films run.
The decline
of the classic cabaret/vamp’s songs began with the advent of
the disco culture in the early 70s. These songs were first filmed
with the disco beats typified by ‘Hari Om Hari...’
(Pyaara Dushmun) and ‘Aap jaisa koi...’ (Qurbani).
From there, we moved on gradually but surely to an era when heroines
took over the mantle of seduction, like Dimple Kapadia (‘Sulagti
hain aankhen...’/Insaaf) and went more Westernised and
mod than even the 60s vamp!
 And
yet die-hard film and music buffs will always miss those grand numbers
where the vamps and molls inspired great composers to come up with
timeless Western-oriented numbers. Among the songs showcased here,
who can forget Bindu’s energetic Hungama ho gayaa... ’(Anhonee/1973),
the ubiquitous ‘Piya tu ab to aaja...’ (Caravan), ‘Aa
jaane jaan...’, a song that only Lata Mangeshkar could
have sung and only for L-P (Intequam), ‘Is duniya mein jeena
hai...’ (Gumnaam), ‘Mera naam Chinchinchu...’ (Howrah
Bridge) or ‘Yeh mera dil...’ (Don)?
But these are
of course the tip of a fabulous iceberg. I will always remember
those rare examples of heroines doing the come-hither routine, like
Sharmila Tagore’s ooh-la-la act Zuby Zuby julembu...’
in An Evening In Paris and Saira Banu’s Kya-bath-towel-hai
show in Thodasa thehero...’ (Victoria No. 203)
which set the guys drooling as much as the brazen Bindu of ‘Mera
naam hai Shabnam...’ (Kati Patang). And this genre of songs
also included mod party-dance numbers like the terrific Bobby number
‘E phansa...’, alongside the classic cabaret and
seduction acts.
But the heroine
going all out to seduce or ‘miss’behave was a rarity.
Often the parallel heroine would do the needful, like Tanuja going
all out to ensnare Dev Anand in ‘Raat akeli hai...’
(Jewel Thief), a cauldron of passion spiced with Asha’s
vocals and Majrooh’s everything-said-but-gracefully worded,
‘Raat akeli hai bujh gaye diye/Aake mein paas kaanon mein
mere jo bhi chahe kahiye...’ Needless to say, the Helen
cabaret, Baithe hain kya uske paas...’ from the film
was far less passion-able.
 That
said, Helen was undoubtedly the queen of this genre, doing dozens
of such songs in films like Teesri Manzil, Pagla Kahin Ka, Jhuk
Gaya Aasmaan, Elaan, Talash, C.I.D. 909 and others. But surprisingly
even a Farida Jalal, known for her later goody-goody roles went
on to play this way in two superb, but relatively lesser-known numbers,
‘Aaiye aapka tha hamein intezaar...’ (Mahal/1969)
and ‘Aaja re piya khilne lage tan man ke phool...’
(Baharon Ki Manzil/1968). Mumtaz, on her way up to heroine-land,
enacted the passionate ‘Yeh hai reshmi zulfon ka andhera...’
as a moll in Mere Sanam.
By virtue of
her image, association with Helen, and Lata’s heroine-centric
domination, Asha Bhosle dominated these songs, and yet there were
songs that needed Lata and only Lata, as some of the examples above
show. Laxmikant-Pyarelal in particular took Lata to new frontiers
with the languorous ‘Raat se kaho ruke zaraa...’ (Lootera)
and the effervescent Helen tango ‘Aur mera naam hai Jameela...’
(Night In London) where Jameela was enunciated each time in
a deliciously different way.
On the lyrics
front, many a writer used this genre to inculcate philosophy, notably
Sahir in ‘Aage bhi jaane na tu... (Waqt) and ‘Zindagi
ittefaq hai...’ (Aadmi Aur Insaan). On the other hand,
Indeewar went all out for shock value in the conservative 1970 era
with ‘Husn ke laakhon rang...’ (Johny Mera Naam).
Yes, within
these parameters lay great variety and innovations. All you Monicas,
Shabnams and Jameelas — where are you?
—Rajiv
Vijayakar
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