Maestro of haunting music

A haunting melody stirs the strings of our soul. More than any other form of music, it moves us spiritually, bringing our sublime feelings to the fore. In the film industry, the music of some films such as Parwana (1947), Mahal (1949), Aawara (1951), Madhumati (1955), Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam (1962) and some more had a captivating, apocalyptic and eerie feel. It must be clarified here that haunting music is not horror music. The former is alluring, mesmerising and captivating whereas the latter is meant to be repulsive, scary and disturbing. The former attracts whereas the later repels. The music industry of our South Asian Subcontinent has produced many musicians – particularly Madan Mohan, Salil Chaudhari, Shankar Jaikishan and some others – who have given us memorable haunting melodies.

However, the maestro of haunting music remains Khawaja Khurshid Anwar. He did not produce this genre of music for just one song or one film. In his professional life, he gave us a series of films adorned with such music. In fact, haunting music was his forte and that is testified by films such as Heer Ranjha, Koel, Intezar, Hamraz, Chingari, Jhoomer, Ghunghat and many more.

KKA’s life story is well documented. His father Khawaja Ferozuddin Ahmad was a successful barrister from Lahore. A connoisseur of classical music, the elder Khawaja had amassed a great number of records and gave his son an unhindered access to these volumes. He also allowed his young son to attend the weekly musical evenings that were held at their spacious home in Lahore.

His mother was the younger daughter of a famed medical doctor and her elder sister was the first of three wives of Allama Iqbal. KKA was born in 1912 in Mianwali, where his maternal grandfather was serving as a civil surgeon. He stayed with his maternal family for a few years as his father was away in London pursuing a law degree. In his childhood, he had played at Allama’s home. He remained a good friend of Allama’s estranged elder son Barrister Aftab Iqbal. KKA’s paternal grandfather was a deputy commissioner in East Punjab. He was thus born in what we would call a “well established” family and made good use of his affluent circumstances.

KKA was disheartened by the status accorded to music in Pakistan. He was especially distressed at the idea that Indian music is a “Hindu heritage”

KKA was a prodigious student and won the Gold Medal in Philosophy from Government College, Lahore in 1935. However, he had started nurturing revolutionary ideas at an early age. It is said that he was an associate of Bhagat Singh Shaheed in the violent endeavour to foment an armed revolution! However, it is reported by some sources that when the group was apprehended, KKA was tricked into becoming an approver in the case. He was only nineteen at the time. His hatred for the foreign colonisers continued and having learnt that the British Chancellor was to award the gold medal for his MA, KKA abstained from the function. It is also said that he did not appear for his interview for Indian Superior Services because the interviewers were British.

In the meantime, with his interest evoked at an early age, KKA stared learning music from Khan Sahib Tawakkal Hussain. He joined the Bombay film industry in 1941 as a music director. His first Punjabi movie titled Kur Nai (1941) and his first Urdu film Ishara were commercial hits. The rest, as they say, is history. He went on to create music for 28 films; 10 in India and the rest in Pakistan. In the late 1970s, he recorded classical music rendered by renowned classical singers and representatives of the main gharanas of classical singing. His magnum opus, titled Raag Mala, remains for future generations as a collection of this music on audio tapes.

KKA was disheartened by the status accorded to music in Pakistan. He was especially distressed at the idea that Indian music is a “Hindu heritage”. He tried to give the message that, on the contrary, the current form of Indian music has a Muslim background. This music came to India alongside the other Persianate cultural influences. One of the most notable Indian contributions in the field of musical instruments is the sitar that was developed by Amir Khusrau. It was, in fact, Amir Khusrau who also developed Qawali, a new genre in the realm of music in the world. KKA also reminded people in Pakistan that Indian music was nourished and propagated by various gharanas who were, for the most part, Muslim.

He won a number of awards including the Nigar award for music in 1962 for the film Ghunghat, a Sitara-e-Imtiaz in 1980 and Mortal-Men-Immortal-Melodies Award in 1982. Here, on the eve of his 107th birthday on the 21st of March, his work is recalled in the context of one of his most delicately conceived and fascinatingly enacted musical compositions.

Before this song is described, a word about the poet who wrote its lyrics. The lyricist of the song was Tanveer Naqvi, who died in 1972 at the rather young age of 53 years. Tanveer, whose real name, coincidently, was also Khurshid, i.e. Syed Khurshid Ali, was married to Eidan Bai, an elder sister of Madam Noor Jahan. He was a fabulous lyricist – one of the best that we ever had in Pakistan. Before moving to Pakistan, he wrote songs for about 20 Indian films including for such memorable hits as Anmol Garhi and Jugnu. He was the lyricist for the first Pakistan made film named Teri Yaad. He wrote memorable lyrics for such KKA films as Jhoomar, Koel and Ghunghat. His patriotic song “Rang Laayega Shaheedon ka Lahoo” is perhaps the most heart rending national song ever penned in Urdu. His song titled “Jadon holi jai lena mera naa” certainly has one of the best verses in Punjabi films. Some of my favourite words in his lyrics, written by him for film Azra, are:

Jaan-e-Baharan, Rashk-e-Chaman”. I think few songs in the Subcontinent’s film industry have such flowing and romantic wording. KKA and Tanveer Naqvi made a great creative duo. They also produced, as musician and writer, one of most heartfelt naats, titled “Jo na hota tera jamal hee”.

The song that I would like to focus on most in this present article is titled “Rahoon pey thari main, Nazrein jamaye” – which will help us better understand KKA’s style of work. It is written by Tanveer Naqvi for the 1962 film Ghunghat. This was a KKA film in entirety as he had the credits as co-producer, director, story writer, screenplay writer, music director and lyricist (for one of the songs). The other lyricists for the film included Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Habib Jalib. The song has the singular stamp of KKA in the haunting music, impassioned rendering and mournful enactment.

The song opens with a desolate landscape in an uninhabited hilly area. Clouds rise from the surrounding valleys, as is peculiar to the hilly areas, arousing utter gloom or warm romance – depending upon the viewer’s state of mind.

The sole sign of human presence in the opening scene is a temple in the right corner; clearly a ruined unkempt structure signifying an abandoned temple of love. The building is a one-room structure. It has a window on the side wall with the rear wall completely bricked off giving a sense of entrapment. There is a steep sloping roof that is often seen on Hindu and Buddhist temples. There is a covered veranda along the front door with a big bell hanging from its ceiling. The temple bell tolls incessantly, moving from side to side throughout the song, beckoning nonexistent worshippers.

KKA and Tanveer Naqvi made a great creative duo

KKA allows 10 seconds to the viewers in the first scene to soak up the environment and grasp its meaning before displaying the victim of this tragic love. Nayyar Sultana appears from behind the temple, wearing a white sari, with her knee-length loose hair rolling in the wind. She is garlanded in gloomy white flowers around her neck, in her ears and on her wrists. A haunting tinkling bell dominates the setting as thin clouds swirl around the woman.

KKA lets the scene roll for a full half-minute with the fluid clouds, sombre surroundings, the twirling girl and the jingling bells, drawing the viewers to get immersed in the unfolding story. Then come the words,

“Rahoon pey thari main, nazrein jamaye

Janam janam ki, pias bujhaye

Koi aaye, koi aaye, koi aye”

“I plant my eyes on your footsteps.

To quench my eternal thirst

Let my beloved come back to me”

The stage is now set for the distressed call,

“Koi na jane kab aaye”

“Who knows when they might arrive”

The words are not of hope. They express a longing. They are a wistful cry of pain for a love that clearly belongs to the past. The waiting lament is nothing but an anguished cry. The woman is wearing white; the dress that signifies mourning for a love that is lost forever. The music, the words and the gestures do not specify whether the lover is dead or has only walked away. The bindya on her forehead is the indication that she has not torn the link with the past; that there is a longing in her heart and a refusal to accept the reality that she is only trapped in her own fantasy. One thing is obvious though; that the love has gone to another world and is not coming back. The song is not about optimism; it is a requiem for a lost life, a buried past and a fading memory.

The subsequent words make it clear that the lover has gone out of her life in the years long past,

Kitney baharan aaen, aa key gayeen

Kitney zamaany beetay, akhian bichaye

“Many springs came and went by

Ages have passed but my eyes await.”

Even the appearance of a few friends on the scene to console the young woman is a futile attempt, devoid of purpose. The song makes it certain that the agonies of the young woman are perpetual and ceaseless.

As the song ends, the clouds – of doubt if I may suggest – fade away and she is left standing in her eternal grief and gloom.

For the distinct tinkling bells, the genius KKA used tubular bells. I am informed by his son, Irfan Khawaja, now settled in US, that while composing this song and looking for a sound that was in his mind, he learnt about the presence of these bells in a church in Kohat. He borrowed the set and used its sound in the song. The bells that KKA used are visible in the song itself for 16 seconds in the right foreground corner. They appear and dissipate with the consoling female friends.

Such songs were not a show of light and sound. They were works of art and were carefully crafted with utmost thought and care. They carried subtle hints and gave calculated messages. They were meant to spin a magic that has an everlasting influence. They were not the after effects of a hurried brew – they were the euphoria of a vintage that left the imbiber with a longing for more.

One simply can’t get away from the hangover of such a heavenly drink. Or, in this case, an evergreen sweet melody.

Parvez Mahmood retired as a Group Captain from PAF and is now a software engineer. He lives in Islamabad and writes on historical and social issues. He can be reached at parvezmahmood53@gmail.com