Majrooh Sultanpuri: Versatile and enduring

The lyricist, who died on May 24, 2000, wrote for more than 250 films in a career that spanned five decades, writes Sumit Paul

When a poet-lyricist begins his career with immortal numbers like ‘Jab dil hi toot gaya’ and ‘Gham diye mustaqil’ (both from the film ‘Shahjahan’, 1946) and someone of K L Saigal’s stature lends his voice to them, one can say that the beginning is indeed auspicious.

Yes, the beginning really augured well for Asrar ul-Hassan Khan ‘Majrooh’ Sultanpuri. By the way, his nom de guerre means ‘wounded’ (‘zakhmi’ or ‘ghayal’) in Arabic but figuratively it means ‘smitten’. Music with soulful poetry has been the backbone of Hindi cinema. That you don’t get to listen to songs like ‘Koi sone ke dil wala’ (in film ‘Maya’, 1961) or ‘Tukde hain mere dil ke’ (in film ‘Mere Sanam’, 1965) in today’s cacophonous musical scenario is inconsequential.

But there was a time when a cascade of sublime numbers ensued from the quills of the poet-lyricists like Sahir Ludhianavi, Shakeel Badayuni, Kaifi Azmi, Qamar Jalalabadi, Hasrat Jaipuri and Majrooh Sultanpuri. Film music was always looked down upon by the high-brow connoisseurs of music and poetry. So, for a long time, poetry in songs was considered to be pedestrian and humdrum until the Midas touch of a Sahir or Majrooh lent a magical twist and tenderness to exquisite creations.

Can you forget Majrooh’s ‘Rahein na rahein hum mahka karenge...’ (from ‘Mamta’, 1966, composed by Roshan Lal Nagrath), ‘Thaare rahiyo O Banke Yaar’ (from ‘Pakeezah’, 1972, composed by Ghulam Mohammad), ‘Kabhi toh milegi, kahin toh milegi, baharon ki manzil ‘ (from Aarti, 1962, and sung by Lata Mangeshkar), ‘O mere dil ke chain...’ (from ‘Mere Jeevan Saathi’, 1972, and music by R D Burman) or ‘Raat kali ek khwaab mein aayee’ (from ‘Buddha Mil Gaya’, 1971, by Kishore Kumar)?

Majrooh had a rare ability to stir all human emotions, and was never a single-track lyricist who evoked a particular emotion. He could write with equal aplomb, songs like ‘Jaane walo zara mud ke dekho mujhe’ (from ‘Dosti’, 1964), ‘Chhupa lo yoon dil mein pyar mera’ (from ‘Mamta’, 1966), ‘Nanhi kali sone chali’ (from ‘Sujata’, 1959), ‘Tumne mujhe dekha’ (from ‘Teesri Manzil’, 1966), ‘Hum hain mata-e-koocha-o-baazaar ki tarah’ (from ‘Dastak’, 1970) or immortal numbers like ‘Mujhe dard-e-dil ka pata na tha, mujhe aap...’ (from Aakashdeep, 1965).

Majrooh had a mastery over ghazals. So, when he wrote ghazals for movies, he retained the mojo, mystique and ‘mithaas’ (sweetness) of a ghazal. ‘Kahi bekhayal ho kar’ (from ‘Teen Deviyan’, 1965) and ‘Hum bekhudi mein tum ko pukare’ (from ‘Kala Pani’, 1958) prove his mettle as a master of romantic ghazal/s and a weaver of pathos. Majrooh knew how to change himself with the changing times instead of sulking and cursing the new era and young listeners’ evolving tastes. All his numbers for the film ‘Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak’, underline his sense of adaptability.

Majrooh, who died on May 24, 2000, at the age of 81, wrote songs for more than 250 films in his over five decade-long innings in Bombay. In 1993, he became the first — and to date the only — lyricist to have received the Dada Saheb Phalke award.

Though towards the fag-end of his life, Majrooh got a tad disillusioned with the rapid commercialisation and declining standards of film and general poetry, he soldiered on. It was his hallmark and also a creative metier, durability coupled with creativity.

He was an Urdu poet par excellence whose innumerable couplets have almost become maxims. One such oft-quoted couplet is: ‘Main akela hi chala tha jaanib-e-manzil magar/Log saath aate gaye aur kaarvaan banta gaya.’