Sahir Ludhianvi elevated inane film lyrics to fine poetry

He wrote intensely about relationships and dreamed of a more egalitarian society. His 100th birth anniversary falls on March 8

Urdu poets like Josh Malihabadi, Ali Sardar Jaffri and Raghupati Sahay ‘Firaq’ Gorakhpuri thought writing lyrics for films was beneath their dignity. Sahir Ludhianvi was no exception: his temperament was that of a poet.

He wrote about himself, “My calling is poetry”. Yet, he could strike a balance between poetry and film lyrics with the effortless ease of a juggler or jadugar. The very meaning of his pseudonym ‘Sahir’ is ‘wizard’ or ‘enchanter.’

When Sahir entered the film industry as a poet-lyricist, the scene was not encouraging. To quote an Urdu critic, “Sitting at a kiosk, smoking continuously, frivolous pen pushers were writing substandard songs for films.” But Sahir’s arrival brought about a paradigm shift. He had a deep understanding of the collective psyche because of his communist leanings. He wasn’t impervious to the sufferings and small needs of the masses and that’s the reason he could write with hope and conviction, ‘Woh subha kabhi toh aayegi.’ (That dawn will surely come.) Khyyaam, composer of this song, told this writer in an interview that it was one of Sahir’s finest creations, an anthem for the proletariat.

And when it comes to iconic anthems that Sahir created, one invariably starts humming, ‘Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya, har fikra ko dhuein mein’ (‘Hum Dono’, 1961). This song achieved cult status and is still called a smokers’ anthem. But one cannot trivialise this profound song by associating it only with smokers. That would be gross injustice. Mull over the profound stoicism in the line, ‘Barbaadiyon ka sog manana fizool tha, barbaadiyon ka jashn manata chala gaya ‘ (It was futile to brood over losses. I, therefore, chose to celebrate!). Such Zen equanimity, that too in a film-song, is rare.

Sahir hated religion, God and all esoteric beliefs, and called them ills and curses of mankind (insaaniyat ke naasoor, or festering wounds of mankind). One can empathise with him listening to his immortal number ‘Tu Hindu banega na Musalman banega ‘ (‘Dhool ka Phool’, 1959). Sahir was a lifelong atheist, and nearly 80 years ago he called himself a ‘mehzaan ‘ (an old Dari word for a person who goes beyond theism and atheism) or today’s apatheist. More than 60 years ago, he trenchantly wrote, ‘Nafrat jo sikhaye woh dharam tera nahin hai...’ (Religion that preaches bad blood is not yours/The strides crushing mankind are not yours/A temple is incomplete without the Qura’an/A mosque is not a mosque without the Gita).

Never expecting anything from anyone, Sahir could write so poignantly, ‘Utna hi upkaar samajh koi jitna saath nibaah de/Janam-maran ka mel hai sapna, ye sapna bisra de’ (Consider it your good fortune that you have a companion/That they will love you forever is just a dream in Chitralekha, 1964).

Guru Dutt’s ‘Pyaasa’ (1957) is the quintessential example of this when he made Rafi sing, ‘Ye mahlon, ye takhton, ye taajon ki duniya’, ‘Jinhein naaz hai Hind par woh kahan hain’ and recorded in Hemant Kumar’s voice, ‘Jaane woh kaise log the.’

Even when Sahir was past his prime, he penned numbers like ‘Tera mujh se hai pahle ka naata koi’ (Aa Gale Lag Ja, 1973) and ‘Kiska rasta dekhe’ (Joshila, 1973), ‘Dekha hai zindagi ko kuchh’ (‘Ek Mahal Ho Sapnon Ka’, 1975) and his last masterpiece, ‘Simti hui ye ghadiyan phir se’ (‘Chambal Ki Qasam’, 1979).

What makes Sahir a poet for all ages? His poetic truthfulness. He wrote, “I have my own vision/Why should I look at life from others’ eyes?” He had his own voice, vision and vocabulary, not to speak of vanity. In this way, he remains different from other distinguished poet-lyricists such as Shakeel Badayuni, Majrooh Sultanpuri and Kaifi Azmi.

Though disillusioned with life, Sahir never sulked or lamented. Poetry was a cathartic experience for Sahir and he knew that it was cathartic for the world as well. That rare poetic empathy distinguished him from his contemporaries.

Though a recluse to the point of being a misanthrope, Sahir didn’t live in an ivory tower. He was dead against capitalism and ostentation. That’s the reason he could never appreciate Taj Mahal and called it alamat-e-sarmayadari (a symbol of capitalism).

Re 1 more than Lata

Sahir lived life on his own terms. He charged a royalty of Re 1 more than Lata Mangeshkar, and made All India Radio mention the names of the lyricists and composers, not just the singers. He fought for everyone’s rights.