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Pardeshi

@pardeshi

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Posted: 19 years ago

#91

Hindi cinema's First superstar
From: The Tribune

With his stunning portrayal of Devdas, Saigal brought the author Saratchandra's desperate character to life. His brooding looks, that drooping lock of hair and his mournful singing Dukh ke ab din bitat nahin made him a cult figure and Saigal became the first superstar of Indian cinema, writes Pran Nevile
MORE than half a century ago K.L. Saigal—the greatest musical genius of the 20th century—passed away in the prime of his life but it is a pity that we have not set up any befitting memorial in his honour. The first superstar of Indian cinema, who brought music to the masses and became a legend in his own lifetime, deserves to be honoured at the national level. Saigal's god-gifted voice and his haunting melodies still continue to delight millions of fans the world over and have become a part of our heritage. It is disappointing that no auditorium, institution, street even has been named after Saigal to keep his memory alive. The coming year, 2004, will mark Saigal's birth centenary. This should be an opportunity occasion to repay our long-standing debt to K.L. Saigal, the true Tansen of our age. Saigal was deeply attached to Jalandhar, his beloved hometown. Even when his health was declining and he was conscious of his approaching end, he came all the way from Bombay to spend his last days there before his demise on January 18, 1947.
Right from his childhood, Saigal had shown an amazing understanding of music. As a school boy, he used to attend kirtans in the temples and take part in the Ram Lila. He often visited the dera of a Muslim dervish and Sufi Salamat Yusuf in Jammu, whose life and spiritual leanings he was influenced by. Music was a daily routine at this dera and Saigal is said to have practised his singing there along with other musicians and devotees. Apart from folk and devotional music, the enjoyment of regular classical and other popular music in those days, was for those privileged few who either had access to the private concerts of the princes. Saigal would sneak near the house of a professional singing girl in his neighbourhood and later emulate her singing. Some fans find a flavour of kotha style in Saigal's rendering of ghazals. Saigal gave a totally new dimension to the music of his time when he appeared on the scene in 1930s. Saigal's non-film music — ghazals, geets and bhajans made him popular with the music lovers. For him, singing was as natural as breathing, beyond the usual limit of skill and style. Without any formal training in the art of singing nor a torch-bearer of any gharana, Saigal was an acknowledged master of his art in every element that makes music mighty.

He had the marvellous gift and the heavenly voice to create out of those seven notes — sargam — a ringing rainbow of colours, full of expression of every single emotion known to man. No wonder, the elemental force of Saigal's music stunned the great music maestros of his time like Faiyaz Khan, Abdul Karim Khan, Bal Gandharav, Pt Omkar Nath and others who were amazed at his instinctive understanding of the ragas and his regal resonant voice, with a touch of the divine. It is said that after hearing him sing a short khayal in raga darbari, Faiyaz Khan told Saigal "My dear boy, there is nothing I can teach you now that will make you a greater singer".
As a man, Saigal was humane, modest, gracious, overgenerous and full of compassion. Least conscious of his achievements, fame and fortune, he made no distinction between rank and class. According to a reliable source, Saigal once declined an offer of a substantial fee for performing at a wealthy household but chose to attend the function at the house of a modest employee of the Kedar Studios at Bombay. Since he did not follow any religious rituals, he was more like a Sufi saint. Music was an effective instrument for sublime communion..
On a personal note, I vividly remember Saigal's live performance I witnessed at Lahore in December, 1937, during an All-India exhibition held at the Minto Park. By that time, Saigal was already a household name all over the country. There are many stories about his addiction to the bottle and his inability to sing without its aid but there is no evidence to support them. Like the great poet Ghalib, immortalised by the ghazals sung by Saigal, the bottle had its fascination for him but that did not in any way affect his faculties. However, it will, always remain a mystery whether he sang better with or without the influence of liquor.
It was B.N. Sircar, the founder of New Theatres, Calcutta who discovered Saigal and presented him to the Indian public. Calcutta, in those days, was the Mecca for the actors, singers, dancers, scriptwriters, music directors, and all those who aspired for a career in the show business. It was in Calcutta that K.D. Mehra of Lahore made the first Punjabi film Sheila or Pind di kudhi.
Saigal's first three films Muhabbat ke ansoo, Subah ka sitara and Zinda lash went unnoticed. But his talent for both acting and singing was fully recognised after the success of Yahoodi ki ladki a costume epic based on Aga Hashar Kashmiri's famous play Misarkumari with 19 songs including Saigal's ever popular Ghalib number Nuktachin hai gham-e-dil.
It was around this time that Hindustan Records Company of Calcutta brought out Saigal's maiden recording Jhulana jhulao which blazed a new trail in the Indian music and won him acclaim from knowledgeable music lovers.
Saigal's film music style was largely shaped at New Theatres which had then a galaxy of music directors like R.C. Boral, Timir Baran and Pankaj Mullick who composed most of the songs which remain among the most popular hits of Indian Cinema. Saigal attained stardom with the release of New Theatres' Chandidas in 1934. The phenomenal success of the film set a new trend, establishing the dominance of songs and music in Indian cinema which continues to be a major audience attraction even today. Saigal was acclaimed as the leading singing star and the haunting songs like Tadpat bite din rain and Prem nagar mein banaungi ghar main made him famous. Never before had such a soul-stirring voice ever been heard. Then came the all-time great Barua's masterpiece Devdas, Saratchandra's classic time-honoured enduring story of unrequited love. Here, Saigal's outstanding and historic performance set the standards for musical melodrama acting. With his stunning portrayal of Devdas, Saigal brought the author Saratchandra's desperate character to life. His brooding looks, that drooping lock of hair and his mournful singing Dukh ke ab din bitat nahin made him a cult figure and Saigal became the first superstar of Indian cinema. Saigal was not conventionally good looking but the audience was struck by his demeanour and mannerisms. His golden voice was refreshingly impressive and along with his songs even his dialogues were on the lips of the love-lorn gallants of the 1930s as the ultimate expression of dejected love.
Saigal was a bilingual artiste and his mastery over the Bengali language was recognised even by Gurudev Tagore when he allowed him, the first non-Bengali artiste, to sing Rabindra Sangeet. He also played lead roles in several Bengali films which made him the darling of Bengali fans. Devdas was followed by Karwan-e-Hayat an adventure movie and Pujarin, the Hindi version of Dena Pona. It was in the latter film that Saigal sang that fascinating number Piye ja aur piye ja, perhaps, the only film song that was recorded without any rehearsal or any set composition. The magic of this melody, when he is talking and singing, electrified the tipplers and enhanced their pleasure. Unlike other studios, New Theatres did not exploit its talented stars and Saigal did only one or two films a year. In 1937, Saigal appeared in President which was again a runaway success. He was versatile in his tastes, lending his voice to all types of songs as we find in that memorable number Ek raje ka beta lekar a rare fusion of prose and poety.
The following year, New Theatres came out with three reputed films starring Saigal, viz Dharti mata, Dushman and Street singer. The last one elevated Saigal to a new pinnacle of glory along with Kananbala with that immortal, melody Babul mora nayhar chhuto jaye which enraptured countless fans. Then followed Barua's Zindagi (1940) with Saigal's evergreen lullaby So ja raj kumari soja and Lagan (1941) with Kananbala, an Indian version of the romantic stereotype of the artist, a forerunner of Guru Dutt's Pyaasa. It had that Saigal's moving melody Ye kaisa anayaya data. Saigal left Calcutta in 1941 to join Ranjit Studios in Bombay. There Chandulal Shah and his team capitalised on his talents and produced two outstanding films Bhagat Surdas and Tansen. Saigal co-starred with another highly talented singing heroine Khurshid and both these films were box office hits. Saigal's popularity reached new heights with those great songs like Nayan heen ko raah dikha prabhu, and Diya jalao. In 1944, Saigal went to Calcutta to work for New Theatre's production, My sister, whose success was entirely attributed to Saigal and his singing.
No fan of his can forget that heart-rending number Ai qatibe-taqdir. Back in Bombay, Saigal was signed up for a number of films by the producers there who were keen only to exploit his name and fame as the leading singing super star of the day. These films, however, like Tadbir, Banwara, Kurukshetra, Omar Khayyam and Parwanadid not make any mark. The music directors in Bombay were vying with one another for an opportunity to compose music for Saigal. Finally, it was Naushad, who teamed up with Saigal in Kedar's masterpiece Shahjehan. This was the last great musical hit that keeps alive the memory of the great super-star K.L. Saigal with those sublime songs like Gam diye mustaqil and Jab dil hi toot gaya.
K.L. Saigal was also a poet and a composer. He is said to have recited his own compositions though no recordings are available, except the one Main baithee thi phulwari mein, a remarkable bhajan which reveals his spiritual leanings and substantiates the statement of his cousin Chaman Puri that Saigal was a great devotee of Lord Krishna and often sang bhajans to his mother. He was also a competent composer and is believed to have composed most of his non-film music. According to Kidar Sharma, it was Saigal who set the tunes of those two famous numbers, Balam aao baso mere man mein and Dukh ke ab din bitat nahin.
According to Jaimani Roy, the renowned artist who knew Saigal from his earliest days in New Theatres,"Saigal was such a pure character, so simple, that it is hard to describe him in simple words. He was like somebody who had stepped out of an icon, so unaffected, totally oblivious of himself, like a line drawing". All creative artists, poets, painters, dancers and singers receive inspiration from the invisible or the cosmos as Ghalib put it Aate hain gaib se ze mazamin khayal mein — Ghalib sarire-khama nawai sarosh hai (these thoughts or ideas emanate from the heavens, oh Ghalib, your pen is only the scribe of the voice of the gods). And that was so true of Saigal as well.

Edited by pardeshi - 19 years ago

Quote

Bob Chowdhury

@Qwest

Inactive

Posted: 19 years ago

#92

Hindi Films of the 50s in Greece:
The Latest Chapter of a Long Dialogue Most people know that Alexander the Great conquered northwest India in 327 CE. But very few people know that India conquered the heart of Greece around 1960. Not even Indians know of this remarkable event. The invasion started in 1954 and took place on the screens of working-class movie houses. It was an invasion of spectacular colors, music, dances, songs, and gorgeously dressed actresses. The generals were Greek importers. The missiles were about 111 films. The vanguard was "Aan", that movie importers renamed "Mangala, the Rose of India". Thereafter came "Saqi", called "Rosana, the Rose of Baghdad". Then followed a movie on a topic that always moved Greeks, "Sikandar", Alexander the Great. With time, the invasion took hold. How was this possible? The economic condition of Greece was bleak in the early 1950s. Since its liberation from Turkey in 1827, the country had been a poor agricultural nation with high levels of illiteracy, limited life expectancy, and a low status for women. World War II and a subsequent civil war with communist insurgents had destroyed the countryside and killed many inhabitants. An atmosphere of depression and mourning prevailed as people tried to rebuild their lives. One survival tactic was migration to larger cities (such as Athens) and emigration to countries like Germany, which needed cheap labor. Uneducated orphans and people caring for widowed relatives were forced to leave their homes and become bricklayers or housemaids, living in unhealthy and oppressive circumstances. It was in that climate of desperation that Hindi movies made an indelible impression. Fascination with Hindi Films The years 1945-65 were a golden period in Indian cinema. Though made with limited means, many of the films produced then became timeless masterpieces. Most were dramatic love stories set in a background of tangled family relations, poverty, exploitation, and misery. In a format that became characteristic of Hindi cinema, many songs and dances were included. Frequently during the movies, actors sang, pondering on problems and situations like a protagonist and a responding chorus in a Greek drama.. Many of the songs, composed by the greatest Indian musicians for the films, have become timeless tunes that every Indian knows. The plots of the movies resonated with the wounded Greek psyche. Suffering women, street children who had to drop out of school, jealous sisters-in-law, vengeful mothers-in-law, interdependencies, betrayals, and frequent unhappy ends resonated with the difficult choices of poorly educated Greek people subsisting in large cities. In particular, the characters appealed to poor women. The maidservants and factory workers saw themselves depicted on the movie screen, hoping for deliverance. Maybe the rich young man would marry the poor beautiful girl who worked at his house. Maybe lost relatives would appear to take care of the abandoned street child who sang so beautifully. Suffering in the movies was combined with spectacle. There were scenes of palaces, beautiful houses, jungles, elephants, spectacular countrysides, and medieval-period costumes. Though often depicted as poor and unhappy, the Indian actresses were gracefully modest, with bright clothes and much jewelry. They enabled the audiences to see people like themselves improving their conditions, but also to be transported to a reverie far from reality. Thus, India managed to package and export its main problem, poverty, with its main attraction, exoticism. And Greece at that time was a willing buyer. At least 111 movies are known to have been imported in 1954-1968. They were most popular in 1958-1962, when at least one out of the 35 movietheaters of Thessaloniki played one or two Hindi movies in per week. (For example, Awaara in 1957 played for six weeks in Alkazar, a working class movie theater in Thessaloniki.) The films were always subtitled in Greek, challenging people with limited education to read. Their one-word symbolic titles were changed to indicate tragedy: mothers losing children, social upheaval, and other emotional topics. Thus, "Ghar sansaar" ("House and world") became "Tears of a Mother". "Mother India" became "Land Drenched in Sweat", and "Mela" (Fair) became "Love Drenched in Tears". The advertisements contained text that accentuated the dramatic aspects of the movies and declared that the newest import was better than Mother India, Awaara, Saqi, Aan or other earlier arrivals. These movies were considered working-class fare. They had much less appeal for the middle class, which looked westward for entertainment, wanted more humor, and was not plagued by the social dilemmas of the poor and the limited solutions available to the heroines. Nevertheless, the Hindi masterpieces were seen by many. Mother India premiered without much advertisement in Kotopouli, a downtown theater on a snowy day in February 1960. The first few curious spectators were so moved by it, that they stopped strangers on the way out and told them not to miss that "social gospel". Four hours later, a waiting line two city blocks long had formed, and the movie played in some Greek town or other at least for the next 10 years. Eventually, Greek producers imitated the Hindi success recipes. The result was Greek films with 8-12 songs (mainly set in bouzouki night-club scenes) and tragic plots and titles. To lure the audiences of Hindi films, Greek titles were sometimes almost indistinguishable. Fascination with Hindi Songs "Mother India", "Awaara", and other movies established Nargis as the great priestess of the family dramas, with Madhubala a close second (Tasoulas 1992). The ability of these heroines to express pain made the beautiful and haunting songs that they sang instant hits. It was only natural that the emotions of the poor Greeks would be expressed through those very same melodies. Thus, starting in 1959, Greek-language renditions of many songs appeared. For example: Sad Nargis! Where do I come to find you?
with a bitter song you can sing my own pain.
My tortured Nargis, who sings songs and wails
please cry tonight about my own separation.
I am the only one who knows your poor tears
because I have been wounded heavily
and I can't forget her because I love her so deeply.
(Kis se malum tha ek din - "Saqi" 1952) The number of songs that were adapted from Hindi movies is considerable. From the 111 movies known to have come as well as from others whose importation is uncertain, 105 Greek renditions were identified. Many came from the best known movies, that is from Awaara, Sri 420, Mother India, Ghar Sansaar, Laajwanti, and Aan. Many Hindi songs engendered duplicates, triplicates, and quadruplicates. For example, "Pyar hua ikrar hua" (Sri 420) and "Gao tarane man ke" (Aan) have four renditions, "Unchhi, unchhi dunia ki divare~" (Naagin) and "Aajao taRapt hai arma~" (Awaara) have three. At least 10 others have duplicates. Of all songs, 57 (55%) have a great similarity with pre-existing songs; 25 (24%) deviate significantly from the originals, 16 (16%) are partial renditions, where other melodies are mixed with Hindi, and 5 (5%) use only some musical bars. Most Hindi song copies were temporary hits or remained obscure. However, 11 were still known among the general public in 1998, about 35 years later. The best remembered in the 1990s were: "Madhubala" ("Aajao tarapt hai arma~" from Awaara) one of three renditions of this song by Stellios Kazantzidis; "kardia mou kaimeni" (my poor heart - "dunia me ham aaye" from "Mother India"), "auti i nyxta menei" (this night remains - "ulfaT ka saaz chheRo" from the 1953 "Aurat"), "oso axizeis esy" (as much as you are worth - "duniawalon se duur" from "Ujaala"). The Hindi songs were rendered in an oriental style that was popular with Asia Minor refugees (who fled to Greece after the 1922 massacre) and with residents of remote villages, where older musical traditions were remembered. This style of songs was called rembetika before 1959 and "laika" or popular songs (sometimes also "varia"- heavy laika) after that date. The imitation and inspiration from Hindi created a specific class of songs called to this day "indoprepi" (Hindi-style). To hellenize the songs, composers often speeded them up, simplified sections where they could not reproduced the trained voices of the Indians, and changed instruments, using the string instrument bouzouki. Although some songs were hasty improvisations, others were good, some possibly better than the originals. For example, there are many excellent renditions of "dunia me~ ham aaye hai~", at different periods, and this song is considered a test of vocal skill. Since there were practically no Hindi-speaking Greeks at the time and movies did not clearly render the words of the songs, the lyrics of the Hindi and Greeks songs almost never coincided. Instead, the themes of the indoprepi and other laika songs echoed the concerns of the folkloric composers and their audiences. The principal concern was migration abroad and subsequent separation from loved ones. Thus, a large number of the Hindi songs were transformed into emigration dirges, often depicting the lonely dependent mother waiting for a son to return. One version of "Gao tarane man ke" became the "bitter letter" which tells the recipient that the beloved will not return. "Pyar hua ikrar hua" (Sri 420), a song well known for its optimism, yielded four Greek versions, each one a sad emigration song. The best known version starts with the sound of a train and has the following lyrics: A train, a cursed train, a train will take you away.
It separates us and breaks and tears my poor heart apart.
Tears are rolling in the station, mothers are wailing disconsolately
but I shed no more tears, because my eyes have no tears left.
Such a pain, such a wound, may the enemies never feel,
please write me every day before I die of sorrow. Other issues echoed in the songs were the dependence of women, jealousy for happy couples, and condemnation of women who were immodest or married for money. When the Hindi and Greek were both love songs, the lyrics often contrasted the cultural differences in social interactions. Greece in the 50s still had the customs of dowry and arranged marriages, but there were no castes, access to education made it possible for some poor to marry into rich families, and young people could actually get to know each other (particularly when they were both migrants living away from home). Therefore, the Greek love songs imply intimate acquaintance and describe joint activities, whereas the Hindi songs often imply that the two lovers see each other from a distance and really have no personal acquaintance. The Controversy In the 1960s, many educated Greeks did not look kindly on the Hindi movies and songs. They saw them as a threat to the country's drive for modernization. The middle class admired the West. Its members associated the indoprepi with refugees from Turkey, poorer people, uncouth villagers, and backwardness in general. Emigration was not a middle-class concern. Even when the songs echoed more general themes, the words alienated the educated listeners. The same Urdu vocabulary that is considered poetic by Indians (e.g. dunia, zamana, ashik, khabar) was considered Turkish by Greeks, and therefore backward. The words were too emotional, too depressed, too angry. They often expressed negative attitudes against women (e.g. "I will throw this nagging woman out...") as well as male demands for female obedience and virtue. Students often ridiculed or parodied the laika songs and the tearful movie titles. In particular, young women, who had brighter prospects than their mothers through education and salaried work, wanted to have nothing to do with them. The negative middle-class attitudes towards the Hindi imports were expressed through articles such as the following: Sinking low The historical moment when Alexander the Great conquered India was fateful. So fateful and defining that thousands of years later we are paying for the consequences. This conclusion is completely true. India conquered Greece in every artistic expression, to the point that we imitate it and follow it slavishly.... The trouble started with the first Hindi movie that was shown. Its incidental commercial success - that was due to anything but its intrinsic value - resulted in a ton of the saddest Indian concoctions, which set cinematography back for years, to the time of the tear-drenched melodramas with the shamed mothers and children of sin. Today the situation is such that the Hindi cinema is the most direct competitor of the Greek cinema. Hindi movies are everywhere, and tearful Nargis is much more popular than Vouyouklaki. The drawn-out and bothersome Indian music which accompanies these sad creations also tends to become our national music. Many "smart" composers managed to expropriate motifs for Greece and to create "folk" hits, bringing the musical level of our people down to basement night clubs. So, various Singoalas, Mangalas, Madhubalas, etc., disturb our peace and, most sadly, are broadcast by radio stations, notably the Armed Forces station.... Most modestly speaking, this is sinking low! It is not permissible, when we fight to stand in the geographical space of Europe to have become a spiritual colony of India.. Except if, as we wrote in the beginning, we are now paying for the consequences of Alexander's conquests... But even then, the price is too high (Matsas 1961). As the above article implies, the transformed songs had a big problem: plagiarism. With few exceptions, the songs appeared as creations of at least 26 Greek musicians. The copying was systematic. Some musicians copied some songs on reel tape recorders directly from movie theaters, and in other cases, music companies ordered records from India and distributed them to willing people for copying. The names of Naushad Ali, Shankar-Jaikishan, and Chitalkar Ramachandra were never heard in Greece. Clearly, people loved Hindi songs, and profits were large. Copyright laws were lax or non-existent at that time, and the bardic tradition (dating from Homeric times) of adapting existing melodies to suit the conditions of the time was still strong. The folkloric musicians were often poor and poorly educated, and saw a way to make some extra money. Some people who lacked significant talent became known composers by taking Naushad's works in their names.The tendency of musicians to reproduce Hindi songs resulted in humorous episodes, as in the case when three composers went to a studio at the same time to record different versions of the same Hindi song (Tsitsanis 1979). This scandal could not be hidden for long. Audiences often did remember the movie originals, and the outcry started a controversy that raged for years. The notable Greek composer and bouzouki virtuoso, Vasilis Tsitsanis, railed against the plagiarists in articles published in popular magazines. He considered the Indian composers giants, whose creations were shamelessly expropriated by worthless musicians; he also argued that the copiers adulterated the tastes of the Greek people, habituating them to foreign tunes. (Habituation to western tunes was clearly not seen as negative.) In response, composer Apostolos Kaldaras and traditional music teacher Theodoros Derveniotis, clarified that they were not copying Hindi; they were instead composing byzantine music and taking the Greek music back to its roots! (Simirioti 1962, 1967a, 1967b). During that same period, many Turkish and Arabic songs were also copied and expropriated through acquisition of records and radio programs. (The Turkish and Arabic movies never achieved the prominence of their Hindi counterparts.) Although this tendency was generally known, it was not considered very important; copies from neighboring countries could be explained away as originally Greek or as legitimate heritage of the refugees. Somehow, India was threatening in a way that Turkey and the Arabic world were not. It used formulas and musical patterns that vaguely sounded byzantine and harked into glorious eras that to Greeks were painful. Imitating the culture of an extremely poor county was very unsettling to development-minded intellectuals, and westernizing Greek tastes became ever more urgent. Thus, the fate of the Hindi imports was doomed. The accusations of plagiarism stuck with some folk composers, and Hindi songs became their shame; the sometimes excellent pieces were hidden and forgotten. The reign of the movies also did not last long. Although they were imported systematically for about 14 years (1954-1968), their heyday lasted only about four. The Greek movies that imitated the Indian family dramas, eventually imitated them too well and won over the audience. American and European movies showed faster action along with sex and violence that fascinated young men. Possibly because Indians had no experience with personal relationships, the love scenes and characters appeared superficial and unrealistic to Greeks who did date (albeit secretly). Indian producers responded with thrillers that looked quite artificial (such as Chinatown of 1962) and did not win converts. By the end of the 60s, the economic conditions of Greece greatly improved, and the demand for family dramas and for songs with themes of emigration, poverty, and depression decreased. As women's social condition and earning capacity improved, songs about jealousy and girls sacrificing poor lovers for wealth became less relevant. A defining event was the military junta that ruled Greece in 1968-1973. The colonels wanted to emphasize the glory of ancient Greece and to repress the years of Turkish occupation. Therefore, anything that reminded of Turkey was suppressed, and it was forbidden to transmit "heavy" laika songs on the radio. Finally, contact with western Europe and later membership in the European Union made the country look ever westward and forget the eastern side of its heritage. As more skillful Greek music developed under Hadzidakis and Theodorakis, the oriental-sounding songs became unfashionable for many years. The Greek movie industry was nearly extinguished as western productions supplanted it. The Hindi movies and laika or indoprepi songs became a distant memory. But nostalgia in cultures often brings back old productions. The generation born in the 1970s did not find the eastern-sounding songs threatening and made them fashionable, releasing new renditions. Thus, in 1998, one could hear again on the radio melodies from movies that had been long forgotten in India and Greece, such as "Mera naam raju" and "Gao tarane man ke" ("Mangala, the daughter of the maharaja"). At the time the research was undertaken, the Hindi, Arabic, and Turkish songs that had once been copied or imitated were again in full swing. The resulting book, "Hindi-Style Song Revelations" (Abadzi and Tasoulas 1998), was widely reviewed by the press in the summer and fall of 1998. Many articles wrote that in the 1950s Athens and Delhi had had remarkable similarities and the people had very similar concerns (Keza, Bakounakis, Kessopoulos, Zografou, Papadopoulos; 1998). Forgotten Connections Did the indomania of the 50s have any historical significance? Hindi films became popular in many countries the outside indic world, such as Russia, Turkey, Tunisia, Egypt, Uganda, even Colombia; the plots generally resonated with the concerns of the poor, and the songs were uniformly considered melodious. Some songs were adapted in many countries, such as "Awaara hou". But it appears that Hindi songs were not copied outside South Asia as widely as they were copied in Greece. Few are known to exist in Turkey and in the Arab world, which have specific musical traditions. By comparison, at least 26 Greek musicians are known to have adapted Hindi songs. The systematic Greek acquisitions may be due to commercial ingenuity that found opportunities in a country that was too far to protest. However, profit alone is not a sufficient explanation. Perhaps the is an affinity that created this special allure. Songs often sound vaguely familiar to Greeks, like the traditional songs of many areas in Greece, including Asia Minor and the islands. One gets the impression that one once heard a similar tune and forgot it. Musicologists who have studied Indian music have been impressed by certain patterns of similarities and have written about them (Amaryanakis 1985a, 1985b, 1992, 1995, 1996; Danilou 1967, 1979, 1980). It was this similarity perhaps that the musicians Apostolos Kaldaras and Theodoros Derveniotis evoked when they stated that they were not copying Hindi songs but instead recreating byzantine music. Centuries of commerce with various Mediterranean and Asian cities have created a musical tangle, where certain similar patterns are shared by many neighboring countries (e.g. scales, rhythms, musical instruments). In addition, Greece has strong eastern traditions, dating from the centuries when its cultural center was in Asia Minor. An additional point of contact has been the dissemination of Greek music in India during the Hellenistic era. It is known that Greek or Greek-style musicians (Yavana ganika) were sought after during the Maurya dynasty and in subsequent centuries (Varadpande 1981, 1985). Finally, the Turkish influence on both civilizations (see below) resulted in the dissemination to both countries of musical patterns and instruments. As a result of contacts and common origins, there are several points of similarity between byzantine music (used only in Greek churches) and more traditional Indian music: notes and divisions of the natural scales, use of quarter-tones, characteristics like alaap and tarana (Amaryanakis 1985a, 1985b, 1992, 1995, 1996; Danilou 1979, 1980). Certain raagas correspond to the Turkish or Persian maqamat, which Greeks also used. For example, many of the Hindi songs that Greeks adapted were in the bhairawi raag, which corresponds to the maqam "ushak". Also, certain instruments are common to both countries: tampura (pandouris in ancient Greek, bouzouki in modern Greek), santur, saaz, and double flute (Amaryanakis 1985). The older musical traditions were best kept in isolated areas of Greece as well as in the Asia Minor, where they received more reinforcement. The villages and islands were places of poverty, and the Asia Minor people became refugees, sharing their misery with the poor of mainland Greeks in the crowded and unhealthy conditions of Athens and Thessaloniki. The folkloric singers who in their home areas had best kept the old musical traditions were most likely to watch the movies and be influenced by their stories. They were most likely to find the song modes familiar and to reproduce them, adapting them to the instruments and modes that made them sound more Greek. Historical Analogies Musical relationships are related to cultural and linguistic relationships in the distant past. There are specific linguistic similarities between ancient Greek (particularly the aeolic dialect) and Sanskrit. Many old deities have similar names, implying a much closer relationship in the prehistoric indoeuropean past (e.g. Diaus Pitar, Varuna, Surya, Sarameyas, Yavishta, Ushas - Arora 1985). Attested contacts between Greeks and Indians date at least from the 6th century BCE, when some Asia Minor Greeks and some western Indians were citizens of the Persian empire. Alexander's invasion and contacts are well-known, but lasted very little. Much closer interactions followed during the Hellenistic era, when Seleukid generals succeeded in conquering Afghanistan and Punjab about 256 BCE and setting up the Bactrian and Indogreek kingdoms, whose rulers are mainly known from the thousands of coins they left behind (Bopearachchi 1991, Dani 1991). The last Indogreek king probably ruled until 50 BCE, when he was overrun by the Kushan. The Indogreek kings did not leave a lasting imprint in India. Inclined towards Buddhism and having a tradition of more democratic regimes, they might have helped eventually rid India of the caste system. Instead, they dissipated their energies fighting among themselves, and the Brahmins who had grudgingly accepted them as debased ksatrias were glad to see them disappear (Velissaropoulos citing the Gargi Samhita, 1995.) Although of minor importance when seen in the passage of thirty centuries, distinct points of influence can still be traced. In the approximately 200 years of rule and cultural contacts, Buddha acquired the appearance of Apollo through the Gandhara art, and many Greeks (like king Menander) became Buddhists. The Indians learned from the Greeks astrology, possibly medicine (the Yunani system), and possibly the arts of making coins and golden artifacts. In turn, the Greeks rather unsuccessfully tried to understand Indian philosophy, but nevertheless received stories and myths that eventually entered the Christian tradition (such as meditation practices of the Sinai monasteries and the story of St. Josaphat - Schulz 1981). During the Roman empire, commerce and contact continued. Greeks and Hellenized people continued to travel to Indian ports, receiving and transmitting musical and cultural influences (Thapar 1966). Relations and influences with India took a strange turn when the eastern part of the Roman empire became a Christian state in the 4th century CE (now known as Byzantium). The Orthodox church was very intent on combating heresy, and most of the Middle East had accepted doctrines that the clergy in Constantinople considered heretic. The Byzantine emperors spent much energy combating the heresies and harassing their followers. When the Arabs arose as Moslems in 622 and started to wage war, the Byzantines did not pay much attention to them until it was too late. Not only were the populations of the Middle East and North Africa unable to resist the Arab attacks, a number of them converted voluntarily to Islam to escape Orthodox persecutions. Strengthened by Byzantine conquests, the Arabs conquered Persia in 20 years, and attacked Afghanistan, Sindh, and Punjab in 30 years. The multiple and often warring kingdoms of India were unable to organize and defeat the enemy on time. (Lal 1990). To some extent, the Islamic conquest of India was a consequence of Byzantine sectarianism. Eventually, the two countries met a similar fate. Around 1100 CE, they were invaded by Turks, Moghals in India and Ottomas in Byzantium. Eventually both countries came under Turkish rulers for about 500 years. Large segments of the populations were converted to Islam, while the languages, customs, and music were influenced in similar ways. Having gained independence in 1827, Greece tried to annex Asia Minor in 1922. The defeat resulted in a massacre, millions of Greek refugees, and finally a population exchange in 1927, while left almost no Greeks in Turkey and no Turks in Greece. On the eve of its independence from Great Britain in 1947, India split into two countries, with resulting massacres and a population exchange which left almost no Hindus in Pakistan. Massacres, partition, and population exchanges were repeated in Cyprus in 1974. The suffering that Hindi movies depicted was often a direct or indirect result of these common historical events and was well understood by both cultures. This is one reason why the movies proved so popular. When one looks at history globally, it becomes evident that the movie craze of the 50s-60s was merely the latest chapter of a dialogue that has lasted at least 3000 years. The 105 songs adapted by Greeks in the 1960s might be considered an exchange for the astronomy, medicine, sculpture, and minting that the Indians learned from the Greeks in the Hellenistic years. And the offense that the movies and songs caused to westernized intellectuals may be seen as a just revenge for the sins of Alexander the Great. Ethnomusicological Search for the Hindi Movies and Songs Interest in the indoprepi songs started as a hobby for author (a Hindi-speaking Greek educational psychologist), who remembered seeing some Hindi movies as a child. In partnership with Emmanuel Tasoulas, a dentist in Athens who had a large collection of Hindi-movie posters and pictures, an amateur ethnomusicological research project was carried out in 1996-1997. The researchers tried to find: - which Hindi movies were played in Greece;
- the songs of those movies;
- which of the movie songs had engendered Greek songs (through a search of Hindi songs);
- which "suspicious" Greek songs were Hindi (through search of Greek songs);
- Greek musicians willing to discuss their adaptations. Since musicians often recorded the songs directly from movietheaters, it was hypothesized that if the movies and soundtracks were found, many Greeks songs would be identified. The 111 movies that came to Greece were identified through searches in newspapers (Makedonia, Ethnos, Nea, Bradyni, Akropolis, etc.) and movie trade magazines of the period (Theamata, Astir Kinimatografikos). Some movies were identified through combinations of actors and plots, but 32 could not be positively identified. The soundtracks of 23 movies were commercially available, but the rest had had become obscure or totally forgotten. To find the songs, the researchers went to the internet discussion group of Hindi film songs called re.music.indian.miscellaneous (RMIM), where several experts frequented. They asked for which persons had the soundtracks of these movies. Several collectors of old songs offered their help, most notably Messrs. Vish Krishnan, Satish Kalra, and Ashok Dhareswar. The experts sent soundtracks to the researchers, who then sent them to Greece, where two collectors of old Greek songs listened to them and tried to identify copied songs. In turn, the Greek collectors sent about 15 cassettes of songs to the researchers, who forwarded them to the Indian experts. Thus, many songs were identified, bringing the total known to 105 in 1998. Several others are known to exist, but they are forgotten in Greece and/or in India and could not be identified positively. The research also brought out some issues of psychomusicology that had not thus far been identified in field research. The listeners of one culture to the songs of the other had to make very complex comparisons, searching their memories for critical features that implied similarity and ignoring others that were irrelevant. It was easy to identify songs that were very similar to songs that the listeners knew very well, but it was quite difficult to identify others that the listeners had only heard a few times or that had been changed significantly. Changes in rhythm, contour, and in the number of voices (choral to monophonic) were quite confusing, while changes in the singers' gender were easily overcome. Some listeners were much better than others in identifying songs, and some truly expert persons could not identify any. Also the process was tiring. After listening to a few songs of the other culture, tunes tended to get mixed up, and the listeners got the impression that all songs were somewhat alike. A detailed discussion of these issues is the subject of a separate article. It was hoped that some of the old composers would agree to discuss what moved them to copy certain songs and not others and why they made certain changes. However, it proved impossible. Two of the most prominent ones (Voula Palla and Apostolos Kaldaras) were dead. Others were still ashamed and defensive. At the end, there was very little collaboration.

It is unfortunate that the Hindi adaptations were not seen as a positive cultural phenomenon. The musicians that used them deserve congratulations and praise for the work that they did. They heard a distant sound of a common cultural past, which they tried to transmit. In turn, this article transmits it to the readers of the 21st century.

Edited by Qwest - 19 years ago

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Bob Chowdhury

@Qwest

Inactive

Posted: 19 years ago

#93

Meena Kumari (real name: Mahajabeen) was born on August 1, 1932 in Bombay to actress, Iqbal Begum and music director, Ali Baksh. She had two sisters, of which the elder being actress Khursheed Junior, and Baby Madhuri.

At the age of seven, she began her film career as Baby Meena in Vijay Bhatt's film Leather Face or Farzand-e-Watan (1939) produced by Prakash Pictures. In her early days she did playback for her sister Madhuri and sang her own songs in many films. After working in about 15 pictures as a child, she got her first grownup role in Bachchon Ka Khel (1946). Then Homi Wadia casted her as a chhota goddess in a mythological, titled Veer Ghatotkach (1949). She continued portraying similar roles in such films as Hanuman Patal Vijay (1951), Laxmi Narayan (1951) and others. But she came to establish herself as a star in Prakash Pictures' Baiju Bawra (1952). From this time onward, a determined Meena Kumari stuck on to become one of the greatest actresses of her time.

Her versatility came into fore with films like Parineeta (1953), Ek hi Raasta (1956) and Sharda (1957). Parineeta became a turning point in her career. Her evocative portrayal of the perennially suffering Indian woman struck a responsive chord in millions of women. She was never really able to shake off this image of a tragedienne, and at times this severely impeded her in the exercise of the full range of her histrionic talents. The following years saw her appear in a number of films, where she played many, largely indistinguishable, self-mortifying women. With Dil Apna Aur Preet Parayi (1960) she earned herself the title of a Tragedy Queen. At the same time, she performed a well-balanced comedy role with Dilip Kumar in Koh-i-Noor (1960). She gave outstanding performances in Sahib Biwi Aur Ghulam (1962), Aarti (1962), Dil Ek Mandir (1963), Kaajal (1965) and Phool Aur Pathar (1965), that eventually established her as the most successful actress of the time. During later times she played memorable character roles in films like Jawaab (1970), Dushman (1971) and Mere Apne (1971). She was married to Producer-Director Kamal Amrohi who directed some of her best films. The marriage ended in 1964 Her last film Pakeezah (1971), directed by her husband Kamal Amrohi, took 17 years in the making. Within weeks of its release she died on March 31, 1972.

She was also a poet in her own right, and was able to lend to the characters she played a certain poetic tenderness and intensity. A collection of her poems in Urdu under the pen name Naaz were published after her death.

Edited by Qwest - 19 years ago

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Kavita Gupta

@uknaik99

Rocker

+ 2

Posted: 19 years ago

#94

Wow... Thanks for such great and collective articles... 👏 👏 👏

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pravina

@gaggo

Inactive

Posted: 19 years ago

#95

Thanks a lot once again for the wonderful thread.How and where did you find Kishore Kumar's picture?

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Bob Chowdhury

@Qwest

Inactive

Posted: 19 years ago

#96

paljay ji,
Thank you so much for the post I really appreciate the contribution from you and all.Love to read about them.

TALAT MEHMOOD Shamshad Begum and V.SHANTARAM

Edited by Qwest - 19 years ago

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Bob Chowdhury

@Qwest

Inactive

Posted: 19 years ago

#97

Originally posted by: uknaik99
Wow... Thanks for such great and collective articles... 👏 👏 👏

Thanks Kavita ji take a look at page # 13 and 16 you will love it.

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Pallavi

@paljay

Dazzler

Posted: 19 years ago

#98

POETRY OF MEENA KUMARI

Sensitive and touching - full of the lacerating pain of a lonely and eternally waiting soul dreaming for a romantic affair and eternally so. This is the hallmark of the poetry of the tragedy queen. Still Meena Kumari, the star of indian cinema, Pakeezah, Saheb Biwi aur Ghulam and Baiju Bawra, was very positive when it comes to poetry as many of her inspiring pieces prove it. Deeply inspired by nature, this classic indian actress wrote sad urdu poetry and she expressed her feelings through nature and had a lot of sensitivity. Her poetry and sad urdu poems are the evidence of her eternal wait till the end. This website has no option but to include her poetry and her sad urdu poems.

chaand tanhaa hai aasmaan tanhaa

chaand tanhaa hai aasmaan tanhaa
dil milaa hai kahaa.N kahaa.N tanhaa

bujh ga_ii aas chhup gayaa taaraa
thar_tharaataa rahaa dhuaa.N tanhaa

zindagii kyaa isii ko kahate hai.n
jism tanhaa hai aur jaa.N tanhaa

ham_safar ko_ii gar mile bhii kahii.n
dono.n chalate rahe tanhaa tanhaa

jalatii bujhatii sii raushanii ke pare
simaTaa simaTaa saa ek makaa.N tanhaa

raah dekhaa karegaa sadiyo.n tak
chho.D jaayenge ye jahaa.N tanhaa

puuchhate ho to suno kaise basar hotii hai

puuchhate ho to suno kaise basar hotii hai
raat Khairaat kii sadqe kii sahar hotii hai

saa.Ns bharane ko to jiinaa nahii.n kahate yaa rab
dil hii dukhataa hai na ab aasteen tar hotii hai

jaise jaagii hu_ii aa.Nkho.n me.n chubhe.n kaa.Nch ke Khvaab
raat is tarah diivaano.n kii basar hotii hai

Gam hii dushman hai meraa Gam hii ko dil Dhuu.NDhataa hai
ek lamhe kii judaa_ii bhii agar hotii hai

ek markaz kii talaash ek bhaTakatii Khushbuu
kabhii ma.nzil kabhii tamhiid-e-safar hotii hai

[markaz=focus; tamhiid=prelude/preamble]

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Pallavi

@paljay

Dazzler

Posted: 19 years ago

#99

MORE POETRY OF MEENA KUMARI

ye raat ye tanhaa_ii

ye raat ye tanhaa_ii
ye dil ke dha.Dakane kii aavaaz
ye sannaaTaa

ye Duubate taaro.n kii
Khaamosh Gazal_Khvaanii
ye vaqt kii palko.n par
sotii hu_ii viiraanii
jazbaat-e-muhabbat kii
ye aaKhirii anga.Daa_ii
bajatii hu_ii har jaanib
ye maut kii shahanaa_ii

sab tum ko bulaate hai.n
pal bhar ko tum aa jaao
band hotii merii aa.Nkho.n me.n
muhabbat kaa
ik Khvaab sajaa jaao

aaGaaz to hotaa hai anjaam nahii.n hotaa

aaGaaz to hotaa hai anjaam nahii.n hotaa
jab merii kahaanii me.n vo naam nahii.n hotaa

[aaGaaz = start; anjaam = end/result]

jab zulf kii kaalikh me.n ghul jaaye ko_ii rahii
bad_naam sahii lekin gum_naam nahii.n hotaa

[kaalikh = blackness]

ha.Ns ha.Ns ke javaa.N dil ke ham kyo.n na chune.n Tuka.De
har shaKhs kii qismat me.n inaam nahiin hotaa

bahate hue aa.Nsuu ne aa.Nkho.n se kahaa tham kar
jo mai se pighal jaaye vo jaam nahii.n hotaa

din Duube hai.n yaa Duubii baaraat liye kashtii
saahil pe magar ko_ii koharaam nahiin hotaa

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Pallavi

@paljay

Dazzler

Posted: 19 years ago

#100

NUTAN

1936 - 1991

On the 4th June 1936, Nutan was born in Bombay, the eldest child of famous 40's actress Shobana Samarth. Nutan is by far India's most sensitive and attractive actress. She has performed every role with a certain moral superiority and grace. Her face, described by late make-up maestro Sarosh Mody as ".. a cameraman's dream because she has no bad angles.", was much admired in later years, but when young she was dismissed as 'skinny' and 'ugly', so it was a surprise that in 1949 Chandulal Shah and K Asif were going to cast her as the heroine opposite Raj Kapoor and Dilip Kumar. Unfortunately the film fell through.

In 1950 Nutan starred in a film directed by her film star mother Shobana Samarth, appropriately titled - Hamari Beti (1950). Nutan was only 14. Previously she had starred as a child artiste in Nala Damayanti (1945) directed by her father Kumar Sen Samarth. In 1951 she reached her first peak with her first hits, Hum Log (1951) and Nagina (1951), along with being crowned the first ever Miss India.

After a short stint at a Swiss finishing school - Le Chatelaine - Nutan gained a major breakthrough with her exceptional performance as a juvenile delinquent in Seema (1955). As a result she proved that the best location in the world is an actress' own face.

Nutan's unique quality, which set her apart from her contemporaries, was that she was a thinking actress who tried to perceive the undeveloped motivations of her characters. Consequently, a fleeting expression on her face conveyed much more than expansive dialogue. For instance, in Seema (1955) we can see the tempests raging and dying in her eyes as the bhajan 'Manmohana bade jhoote' sung by Lata Mangeshkar salves her stricken soul.

Lata Mangeshkar has singled out Nutan as the heroine whose expressions conveyed the impression that she was genuinely singing a song. Even though Nutan herself had a beautiful voice of her own, she chose to concentrate on her acting rather than her singing. In the 1960 film Chhabili (1960), Nutan sang 'Aye Mere Humsafar'. (To hear a portion, click here)

In 1959 she married a naval Lieutenant Commander by the name of Rajnish Bahl and eased out of films when her son, Mohnish Bahl was born. But the spotlight shone bright once again after the award winning Bandini (1963), a portrayal that remains etched on our minds as one of the finest in Indian cinema. As Kalyani, Nutan had no screaming matches or drunken hysterics or other conventional indicators of high-voltage histrionics. Instead, Nutan appears as a quiet woman with passions raging within her. Bandini (1963) captured an artist performing at her awesome peak. She was one of the first actresses to risk playing unconventional roles, years before the New Cinema movement of the 1970's.

Through the 60's and 70's this much honoured actress regularly picked up awards for diverse roles in films like Milan (1967), Saraswati Chandra (1968), Saudagar (1973) and Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki (1978). Renowned directors as distinct as Bimal Roy, Manmohan Desai, Raj Khosla and Basu Bhattacharya have named her as their favourite actress.

Right into the 80's she maintained her pre-eminence, acting for the first time on screen opposite Dilip Kumar in Karma (1986). Interestingly, Nutan first starred opposite Dilip Kumar in a film made in 1954 called Shikwah, directed by Ramesh Saighal, produced by Rajendra Jain with music by Anil Biswas. This film was never completed. Scenes from this film can be seen in the 1983 film called Film Hi Film starring Pran. This film comprises of scenes and songs from incomplete films that were never seen by the public.

Nutan retained her gracious style and sensitive portrayals way into maternal roles as she was increasingly asked to do. Her dairy farm, her antique laden home, her piloting of her son Mohnish's career, her bhajan singing and her search for spirituality, took up her time. Nevertheless, she continued to act. After over 40 years in the profession, Nutan passed away in February 1991 at the age of 54 to cancer. She died as she would have wished - with one more film to be released.

Nutan has won 6 Filmfare Awards and countless others - the most any actress has won to date.
Year Award Category For
1985 Filmfare Award Outstanding Performance Meri Jung - 1985
1978 Filmfare Award Best Actress Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki - 1978
1967 Filmfare Award Best Actress Milan - 1967
1963 Filmfare Award Best Actress Bandini - 1963
1959 Filmfare Award Best Actress Sujata - 1959
1956 Filmfare Award Best Actress Seema - 1955

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