मेघा छाये आधी रात---नीरज

मेघा छाये आधी रात, बैरन बन गयी निंदिया

मेघा छाये आधी रात, बैरन बन गयी निंदिया 
बता दे मैं क्या करू ?

सब के आँगन दिया जले रे, मोरे आँगन जिया
हवा लागे शूल जैसी, ताना मारे चुनरीयां
आई हैं आँसू की बारात

रूठ गये रे सपने सारे, टूट गयी रे आशा
नैन बहे रे गंगा मोरे, फिर भी मन हैं प्यासा
किसे कहू रे मन की बात

गीतकार : नीरज, गायक : लता मंगेशकर, संगीतकार : सचिनदेव बर्मन, चित्रपट : शर्मिली - 1971

अर्ध्या रात्री ढग दाटून आले आहेत , 
झोप वैरीण झाली ; सांग मी काय करू ?

सगळ्यांच्या अंगणात दिवा तर जळतोय माझ्या अंगणात जीव

हवा लागतीय शुळासारखी; माझीच ओढणी टोमणे मारतीय

आसवांची बारात आली आहे

सगळी स्वप्ने नष्ट झाली ; सर्व आशा संपून गेल्या

डोळ्यातून गंगा वाहतेय पण मन तहानलेले आहे!

कोणाशी बोलू रे मनातल्या गोष्टी

Always Amrita, Always Pritam---Gulzar Singh Sandhu

Always Amrita, Always PritamShe put Punjabi literature on the world map. No other writer is as synonymous with Punjabi literature as Amrita Pritam (1919-2005), a familiar name even for those not acquainted with Punjabi. She cocked a snook at convention and defied social norms. There was no split between life and literature for Amrita because literature was her life. Gulzar Singh Sandhu on the Grand Dame of Punjabi letters

YOUR life could be contained on the back of a revenue stamp" was Khushwant Singh’s cynical remark about the autobiography Amrita Pritam was planning to write. A writer of uncommon passion, Amrita responded to the provocative challenge with an aptly titled Rasidi Ticket (Revenue Stamp). The account of her life became so popular that it was translated into half a dozen Indian languages. This much-maligned story of a Punjabi rebel is adored for the manner in which she says what her readers may decry from the core of their hearts. Reading the story one feels that in the male-dominated world, a woman is more sinned against than sinning.

Ajj akhan Waris Shah nu Kitte kabran vichon bol Te ajj kitab-e-ishq da Koi agla varka phol Ik royi si dhi Punjab di Tu likh-likh mare ven Ajj lakhan dhian rondiyan Tainu Waris Shah nu kehan (I call out to Waris Shah today To speak out from the grave And open another leaf From the book of love When one daughter of Punjab had wept You wrote a million dirges Today a million daughters are weeping And they are looking up to you, Waris Shah, for solace)

The novelist in Amrita Pritam was at her best in Pinjar (The Skeleton). The younger generation was introduced to Amrita’s work through this novel which was made into a film sometime back. It is the story of a Hindu girl, Pooro, abducted by a Muslim boy Rashid. Her parents refuse to recover a ‘defiled’ woman. Unable to resist the circumstances she was thrown into, Pooro settles down as a bride and bears Rashid a son. In 1947, nostalgia for the life missed by Pooro makes the couple save Hindu and Sikh women from their Muslim abductors and send them to the security of evacuee camps meant to take them to their kith and kin.

Born in a traditional Sikh family of undivided Punjab in 1919, in Gujranwala and brought up in Lahore, Amrita was the product of the other side of Punjab and she religiously remained so till her end. It was from there that she had been drawing her strength and symbols with all the sublimity embodied in the works of great Sufi poets and saints. It is no wonder she was known in the present-day Pakistan much move than her contemporaries i.e. Mohan Singh and Shiv Kumar Batalavi.

Her attitude to worn out social norms and traditions was so candid that she earned the wrath of many an established institution but never faltered from the path she chose. She rose to be the voice of the entire Indian womanhood and sowed the seeds of rebellion in the minds of her readers against values that were wrong and unjust, according to her.

She started writing poetry in her teens under the influence of her father Kartar Singh Hitkari and became the proud author of a collection of poemsAmrit Lehran in 1936. Such was the grip of the muse in her soul that she churned out half a dozen collections of poems in as many years between 1936 and 1943. The tone of her poetry was ethical, didactic and romantic, clouded in platonic overtones, with a degree of elasticity in form and diction.

It did not take her long to jump on to the band-wagon of the Progressive Movement and her very next collection titled Lok Peed and published in 1944 spoke of the war-torn economy born out of Great Famine of Bengal of 1943 which threw out millions yearning for loaves and love.

This was the time that she took to attack the old social fabric questioning the morality of traditional love and even that of conjugal rights and duties. She did not hesitate to term the husband as a mere bread-winner who wanted nothing but physical pleasure.

Amrita presenting a programme on Radio Lahore.

Amrita was married to Pritam Singh in 1939. That made her change her name from Amrita Kaur to Amrita Pritam. Life was thrown out of gear by the Partition of the country in 1947. So fierce was the trauma of the holocaust on her poetic mind that she had to charter out an entirely new path for herself and her people embracing the sorrows of the community as a whole. So heart-rending was the cry in herOde to Waris Shah that she earned the title of The Voice of Punjab. She emerged as one who had the mind and the power of the pen to record the sufferings of Heer as she could fathom the depth of trauma undergone by the hundreds of girls in Punjab at that time.

Amrita Pritam was at her best in Sunehe(Messages) published in 1955 in which she mixes the romantic and the sentimental within with the progressive callings outside. It was also the time when she was moving away from conjugal bindings. This collection won her the Sahitya Akademi Award, followed by invitations from a host of literary societies. She was also awarded honorary doctorates from more than one university. Her national and international acclamation soared to the skies. At this point, her prose writings, especially fiction, got the better of her mainly because of the instant popularity of this genre amongst the Hindi-reading public.

Awards and honours came her way aplenty

With her seasoned craft of weaving a plot and creating motivated characters, her acceptance as a novelist was all-pervasive among the women. The lustre of her poetic expression in prose was a boost to her receptivity amongst readers of all ages, irrespective of the caste and creed they belonged to.

In her very first novelette, Jai Shri, she made the heroine of the same name reject all young men offering her conventional proposals of marriage to pick up a bridgegroom of her choice in Suresh who turns out to be a sincere and true lover.

Good people becoming the victims of violence and misery is the theme of Alhna (The Nest) and other works of fiction by her. Amrita was a sensitive writer who highlighted the problem of Indian womanhood both in her poetry and fiction.

Amrita incarnates herself, through Pooro, to express her hatred for social conventions and male lust. Resigning themselves their fate is what lies in store for the entire womanhood of India, according to Amrita. Throughout her life, Amrita had been a symbol of liberation for contemporary women writers. Amrita has ardently highlighted man’s disaffection with woman. A poem titled Kumari (Virgin) in her Jnanpith Award-winning Kaghaz Te Canvas depicts the modern girl as follows:

When I moved into your bed

I was not alone — there were two of us

A married woman and a virgin

To sleep with you.

I had to for the virgin in me

I did so

This slaughter is permissible in law

Not the indignity of it

And I bore the onslaught of insult.

Amrita has succeeded in presenting such themes with all the sophistication of a protagonist seeking to change social values. She has been in the forefront when it came to defying all that was outworn and obsolete in society. One may not agree with her solutions but one has to accept that her writings did set the ball rolling in so far as challenging wrongs in society was concerned.

Amrita brought out a monthly literary magazine Nagmani that was profusely illustrated by Imroz, her artist friend and companion in the second half of her life. The magazine made her accessible to the newest of Punjabi writers who flocked to her residence in Hauz Khas in New Delhi, with or without their spouses carrying suitable gifts and souvenirs to be presented to her. She was quick in introducing ever-fresh themes as new columns on such varied subjects as readings from palmistry and star talk.

Of the 100-odd books penned by Amrita, more than a dozen are available in English today. She has been lucky in her translations as well. Khushwant Singh had picked up her novelette Pinjar for translation while he was to travel to London by sea for a change.

He was interested in a shorter work that could be translated in the three weeks that he was aboard the ship. I had suggested one out of Doctor Dev and Pinjar and he had chosen the latter. This was her first introduction to English readers when not many of them were aware that she wrote fiction too. The Indian film industry and Doordarshan did not lag behind in presenting her works on the screen, big and small.

Amrita was a person of many parts. She was an extremely good conversationalist and could hold audiences of all shades. Whether she acquired this art from the stint she had with the All India Radio or she was picked up by them because of this talent in her is a matter of debate.

Amrita felt more at home with the mazars of Mian Meer Waris Shah and Bulleh Shah which were as dear to her as the Taj and Roza of Ajmer Sharif. This did not apply to the places of worship of other religions in her case.

With all her honours and acclaim, the heights she reached in her lifetime, including the membership of the Rajya Sabha, bestowed on her by late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, she carved out a niche for herself amongst the immortals of Punjabi literature. Born in the same year as Indira Gandhi, and perhaps under the same stars, wittingly or unwittingly, she waited for the same date to take leave of the world.

Shy of meeting people and visiting different places, Amrita was fond of cooking at home. Hundreds of visitors from other parts of the country and abroad would remember the lime tea served by her. Those interested in artistic calligraphy may continue to visit her Hauz Khas residence which is full of her writings calligraphed by Imroz on all possible corners.

Four decades of her companionship with Imroz has enabled him to master the art of tea-making and one can be sure of Amrita’s legacy being carried on by him.

Amrita Pritam did not confine herself to the limits and boundaries of this Punjab. She did not belong to either side of the Wagah border or even both sides put together. She was the voice of Punjabis all over the world and hence the voice of hum

Amrita Pritam: Queen of Punjabi Literature By KHUSHWANT SINGH

Amrita Pritam: Queen of Punjabi Literature 

By KHUSHWANT SINGH 

The Tribune, Nov. 12, 2005 

 
Photo: Amrita Pritam, with Imroz 

I had known Amrita Pritam for more than 60 years and, besides her live-in gentleman companion and her children, been closer to her than asnyone else. I was the first to translate some of her works into English, including her best-known novel Pinjar (The Skeleton) and selections of her verse published in the brochure released by Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao when she was given the Jnanpith Award. However, when T.V. and radio channels asked me to pay tribute to her when she died on October 31, I firmly said no. Then I heard and read what others had to say about her. Patwant Singh on N.D.T.V., in his usual haw haw English, spoke about her steadfast adherence to political principles. As a matter of fact, Amrita never bothered about politics and hardly ever read newspapers. Obituaries in newspapers repeated the same things about her life and work loaded, as is their practice, with superlatives. No one dared to mention her human failings.

Amrita's father was a pracharak - a preacher of the Sikh faith from Gujranwala, where she was born. After the death of his wife, father and daughter moved to Lahore. Amrita grew into a pretty girl with almond-shaped eyes, fine features and a fair complexion. She was also petite, barely five feet tall. And precocious. She began composing poetry in her teens. Her earliest work was in praise of Sikh gurus and what they stood for. She was lauded for her work. Among her many admirers was Jagat Singh Kwatra, owner of the leading hosiery store in Anarkali Bazaar. He asked for her hand for his son Pritam Singh. The offer was readily accepted. On marriage, Amrita added her husband's name to her own and became Amrita Pritam. I met her a couple of times in Lahore with other Punjabi writers all of whom were infatuated by her, chief among them Mohan Singh Mahir, then acknowledged as the best among younger poets. He claimed his affection was reciprocated. Amrita assured me it was not.

I got closer to Amrita Pritam after 1947 when we migrated from Lahore to Delhi. She got a job in the Punjabi service of All India Radio. It was about that time she decided to make a clean break from her past. She persuaded her husband to divorce her leaving their son in her custody. She did not formally renounce Sikhism but cut off her hair and took to smoking heavily. It was also around this time she composed her poem Aaj Aakhaan Waris Shah Noo addressed to the Sufi poet Waris Shah, author of the most famous tragic Punjabi saga of Heer & Ranjah.

Utth dard-mandaan dey dardiyaa tak apna Punjab
Beyley laashaan vichhiyaan
Teh lahoo da bharya Chenab

(Sharer of stricken hearts,
Look at your Punjab,
Corpses are strewn in the field
Blood flows in the Chenab.)

With this memorable lament, Amrita Pritam shot into fame in the Punjabi speaking world, both Pakistani and Indian. She never looked back.

My first disappointment came when she won the Sahitya Akademi Award. She was a member of the selection panel. She cast the deciding vote in her own favour. I found it hard to digest but said nothing to her. When she was served with a warrant by an Amritsar Court for something she had written about Sikhism, I agreed to accompany her. Nothing came of it. When Krishna Sobti took her to court for stealing the title of her autobiography Zindaginamah, I appeared in the Delhi High Court as a defence witness. Other troubles came her way, I stood by her.

Amrita was not a highly educated woman, not exposed to good writing in languages other than Punjabi. Nor sophisticated enough to add new dimensions to her own. She was besotted by Bollywood and believed getting one of her novels or short stories accepted by a film-maker was the ultimate in success. All her stories and novels were sob stuff and uniformly second rate.

When I translated Pinjar, I gave half the share of royalties due to me to her on condition that she would tell me her life story and her love life. We had many sessions. She conceded she had been in love with Sahir Ludhianvi and no one else. He came over to Delhi to meet her. It came to nothing. I told her her love life could be written behind a postage stamp. She used it as a title of her autobiography Raseedee Ticket. About Imroz, the one who devoted most of his life to her, she had not much to say. (He is not Muslim as the name might indicate, but a clean-shaven Sikh.) He not only loved her, painted her eyes on doors and walls, designed book jackets for her but in the past few years of her life, when she was unable to move, looked after her to the last. He gave me a line drawing of Waris Shah, which I keep in my studio as an emblem of eternal love. 

ये दिल और उनकी निगाहों के साये---Ja Nisaar Akhtar

ये दिल और उनकी निगाहों के साये

मुझे घेर लेते है बाहों के साये

पहाड़ों को चंचल किरण चूमती है

हवा हर नदी का बदन चूमती है

यहाँ से वहाँ तक, है चाहों के साये

लिपटते ये पेड़ों से बादल घनेरे

ये पल पल उजाले, ये पल पल अंधेरे

बहोत ठंडे ठंडे है राहों के साये

धड़कते हैं दिल कितनी आज़ादीयों से

बहोत मिलते जुलते हैं इन वादियों से

मोहब्बत की रंगीन पनाहों के साये

संगीतकार : जयदेव, चित्रपट : प्रेम परबत (१९७३) / Lyricist : Ja Nisaar Akhtar, Singer : Lata Mangeshkar, Music Director : Jaidev, Movie : Prem Parbat (1973) :

हे हृदय  आणि प्रियकरच्या नजरांच्या सावल्या

मला घेरून टाकतात त्याने दिलेल्या आलिंगनाच्या  सावल्या

चंचल किरणे पहाडाना   चुम्बत आहेत

हवा प्रत्येक नदिच्या अंगाशी लगट  करत आहे

इथून ते तिथे सगळीकडे  ; पसरल्या आहेत शृंगाराच्या सावल्या

काळे ढग वृक्षाना बिलगत   आहेत

हा क्षणात होणारा उजेड आणि अंधार

खुप कठीण आहेत ह्या प्रतीक्षेच्या   वाटा

निसर्गातील स्वातंत्र्यात प्रेमीकांची हृदये जोरात धड़कत आहे  

ती धड़कने भासताहेत  डोंगर दर्य्याप्रमाणे

सगळीकडे उरुन रहिल्यात प्रणयाच्या रंगीन आठवणीच्या सावल्या

Sahir’s tortured soul --Khushwant Singh

Sahir’s tortured soul
Khushwant Singh

I first met Sahir Ludhianvi at a small gathering of poets in the home of Dr Rafiq Zakaria and his wife Fatma. Zakaria was then a minister in the Maharashtra Government and lived in a spacious bungalow with a garden on Malabar Hill. The party was in honour of Firaq Gorakhpuri, who happened to be visiting Bombay. The guests included Akhtarul Imam, the novelist Krishen Chander, Sahir Ludhianvi and a few other lovers of Urdu poetry. The only misfit was Mota Chudasama, a Gujarati businessman who knew neither Urdu nor poetry. He was rich and a friend of the Zakarias. The party had just started with a few poets reading their compositions when Chudasama made some inane remark which upset Sahir. He exploded in bad temper: "Who invited you here? If you know nothing, you should keep your mouth shut." Or words to that effect. Chudasama walked out in a huff. The party was ruined.

I learnt that Sahir was prone to losing his temper and behaving rudely. He was a heavy drinker. When he arrived at Zakaria’s home, he was already high. He expected to be served with Scotch and soda. Instead he was served tea and pakodas. That may have triggered off the explosion.

He invited me over to his bungalow by the sea in Juhu. I accompanied the Zakarias. I was on my guard lest I say something which might upset him. I spent most of the evening talking in Punjabi to his mother and a ladycousin or niece. I could sense his mother doted on him as he doted on him mother. More than once, she asked me: "Puttar (son)you tell him not to drink so much. He is ruining his health." I didn’t dare. I joined him for a couple of drinks, had my dinner and departed.

I got Sahir’s background in bits and pieces from his many admirers. He was by then the most celebrated composer of lyrics in the Bombay film industry. Though I did not get to see his films, I got to know many songs Sahir has composed for them. Unlike other men of letters who never miss an opportunity to praise themselves, Sahir modestly conceded that he was no more than a writer of songs designed to fit into a film plot. He rebelled against authority and hated the rich. In his celebrated poem on the Taj Mahal, he execrated emperor Shah Jahan, who ordered its construction and praised stone masons who gave it shape and beauty. In another poem Chaklay (brothels), he wrote sympathetically of prostitutes while castigating their rich clients. His forte was sarcasm.

An article by Shamim Ahmed in a Pakistani magazine filled in some gaps in my information about Sahir. He was born in Ludhiana (hence Ludhianvi). His real name was Abdul Haye. He took on the poetic pseudonym Sahir (enchanter). He had a very unhappy childhood. His father Fazal Din, who owned a little agricultural land, was an inveterate womaniser: he married 14 women in succession. Only one, Sardar Begum, bore him a son (Sahir). He divorced her to marry another. He took Sardar Begum to court, alleging her son was illegitimate. The Lahore High Court accepted Sahir’s legitimacy and appointed his mother his guardian. Sahir developed a strong mother-fixation and loathing for his father: the relationship was an example of the Greek Oedipus complex, which made him incapable of consummating the few love affairs he had in the short life of 59 years.Shamim Ahmed names three women in Sahir’s life, all three non-Muslims. The first was a Hindu girl, Prem Choudhury, who died of consumption at a young age. Sahir wrote a poem Marghat (Place of cremation) about her. The second one was Ishar Kaur, a Sikh girl, whom he met while he was a student in Lahore. She spent a night with him in the college hostel. Sahir was expelled from the hostel.

She followed Sahir to Bombay, where he had shifted on the advice of S.D. Burman but married some distant cousin. No one knows what happened to this Ishar Kaur. The third was also a Sikh, the eminent poet Amrita Pritam. She admits to the love affair in her autobiography Raseedee Tikat (Revenue Stamp) he responded to her overtures and came to meet her in Delhi’s Claridges Hotel. It was a non-starter. By then Sahir had burnt himself out with excessive drink and complexes, which rendered him impotent. Names of Lata Mangeshkar and Sudha Malhotra are also mentioned as Sahir’s heart-throbs.

Sahir’s mother died in 1976. With her went Sahir’s will to live. She was the only real love in his life. Because of his doting on her, he developed a distrust for other women (gynephobia) and fear of marrying (gamophobia). Four years after his mother left, he died on October 25, 1980.

It is time someone researched Sahir Ludhianvi’s past life, poetry and his abortive love affairs because he was a poet of great stature.

Notes from the past ...Siraj Khan

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Notes from the past  Siraj Khan THE extended presence of Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhonsle on the Indian film music circuit  ended the careers of many female singers. Yet, the contribution of playback singers such as  Shamshad Begum, Sudha Malhotra, Kamal Barot, Usha Mangeshkar, Ruma Guha Thakurta  and Mubarak Begum is unforgettable. The queen amongst them, Shamshad Begum, now leads a quiet life at her suburban Mumbai  home with her only daughter and son-in-law. The grand old lady is over 89 years and has  been out of the public glare. The last time she had allowed herself to be photographed was  some 50 years ago. Shamshad Begum began her career with the Lahore radio in 1937. The Amritsar-born  singer instantly captured the imagination of her listeners with her mellifluous voice and ruled  their hearts for at least two decades. Saiyan dilmain aana re , Boojh mera kya naam re, Teri mehfil main kismat aazma  kar hum bhi dekhangeare some of Shamshad Begum’s smash hits. Her swan  song, Kajra mohabbatwala and legendary composer O.P. Nayyar’s song Kabhi aar kabhi  paar are other popular numbers by Shamshad Begum, which still rule the charts in their  remix avatar. Sudha Malhotra was another magical voice. Born in New Delhi in 1936, she was  discovered as a child artiste by Master Ghulam Haider (a prominent music director of the 1940s) . Her first break came with Mil gaye nain, composed by Anil Biswas, for the film Arzoo.  Salaam-e-hasrat qubool karlo and Kashti ka khamosh safar hai a duet with Kishore Kumar,  are the other songs she is often remembered for. There is another interesting little-known aspect of her life. She is one of the rare f emale singers to have sung a self-composed song. Sudha has not only given the music  for Tum mujhe bhool bhee jao from filmDidi, but also sung it with Mukesh. Sudha was also often linked with famous lyricist, Sahir Ludhianvi, who was said to  be in love with her. Unfortunately, his was to be an unrequited love, which has been  immortalised in the number, Chalo ek baar phir se ajnabi ban jaen. Sudha is now 72  and lives in Mumbai. Barring an occasional ghazal and bhajan programme, she is seldom  seen or heard. Then there is the talented Kamal Barot, who has sung countless duets and qawaalis  as the secondary voice. Garjat barsat sawan ayo re with Suman Kalyanpur, Dadi amma  dadi amma maan jao with Asha Bhonsle, Hasta hua noorani chehra with Lata Mangeshkar.  The list can go on. But her rare solos, too, have been outstanding - Aaj humko hansaye  na koyee is haunting. Kamal is now in her 70s but little is known of her recent singing exploits. Usha Mangeshkar, an accomplished Hindi and Marathi playback singer, has perhaps played  second fiddle to her illustrious elder sisters, Lata and Asha all her life. Kahe tarsay  and Dekho bijli doli, sung along with Asha Bhonsle, are excellent. Her solo, Sultana  sultana and Aplam chaplam with Lata Mangeshkar, are popular even today. Now at 73,  she has almost phased out her public singing, although she did make a surprise appearance,  singing for Jai Santoshi Ma in 2006. A person who is known for sheer variety of her accomplishments is Ruma Guha Thakurta  nee Ghosh. Born in 1934, she is an actress, singer, dancer and choreographer. In 1951,  Ruma married Kishore Kumar. Their son Amit Kumar was born an year later.  After her divorce, she settled in Kolkata, where she formed the Calcutta Youth Choir,  along with composer Salil Chowdhury and filmmaker Satyajit Ray. Ruma has sung songs  with Manna Dey, Hemant Kumar, and Kishore Kumar, acted in over 100 Hindi and  Bengali films, and played the lead role in Ganashatru that won an Oscar nomination in 1989.  She acted in Mira Nair’s The Namesake. At 74 today Ruma still retains her gusto for life. Mubarak Begum is another singer, whose comeback story is unprecedented. The singer  who rendered unforgettable songs such as Kabhi tanhaiyon mein, Mujhko apne gale lagalo  and Kuch ajnabi se aap hein, had not sung since 1968, after being sidelined.  Early this year Mubarak Begum made her comeback after 40 years.  Her stage presence is still infectious. In the past six months, she has performed twice in  Pune, Mumbai, Baroda and New Delhi (most recently on July 17) and there are more  concerts planned in Kolkata and Chennai. These women are national treasures. And while decades have passed by since many  of them last stepped into a recording studio, the songs they have sung continue  to touch the soul. Perhaps, it’s time to let them know that they haven’t been forgotten.—

Sahir Ludhianvi, Amrita Pritam & Sudha Malhotra- Akshay Manwani

     

     

      Sahir Ludhianvi, Amrita Pritam & Sudha Malhotra
LOVE LOST
The personal life of the writer of Hindi cinema’s most romantic lyrics, was fraught with 
unfinished liaisons     The great Punjabi poet and writer Amrita Pritam once told Uma Trilok,
 who authored Amrita-Imroz: A Love Story, of the following conversations 
involving Sahir and her: 

    Sahir happened to ask Amrita, ‘Why don’t the two of us go and live in China?’ 
    Amrita, puzzled by Sahir’s sudden suggestion of moving to China, 
sought an immediate explanation
. ‘What will we do living in China?’ 
    ‘We shall write poetry,’ replied Sahir, rather vaguely. 
    Amrita shot back, ‘We can write poetry here without going to China.’ 
    ‘Yes we can, but if we go to China we will never come back,’ said Sahir. 
    It was, as Amrita told Uma, Sahir’s idea of proposing a lifetime together with her. 
    He was that kind of man. 

    One of the most intriguing aspects of Sahir’s life was his liaison with Amrita Pritam.

 Amrita met Sahir some time around

 1944 in Preet Nagar, a village between Lahore and Amritsar. 

She was at this time married to Pritam Singh, who was an editor,

 but theirs was not the best of marriages.

 Husband and wife were known to be on totally different wavelengths

 from the very beginning. 

 Amrita, in her mid-twenties at the time, had come to Preet Nagar to attend a mushaira 
which was being attended by Punjabi and Urdu poets.
 It was here that she saw and heard Sahir for the first time. She was immediately 
smitten by him. ‘I do not know whether it was the magic of his 
words or his silent gaze, but I was captivated by him,’ writes Amrita of the moment… 
 Over the course of attending several such mushairas, 
the acquaintance between the two grew into a mutual affection.
 It was by all reckoning a most unusual relationship. The two hardly ever spoke to each other,
 preferring instead to let silence 
define their association. ‘There were two obstacles between us — one of silence, which 
remained forever.
 And the other was language. 
I wrote poetry in Punjabi, Sahir in Urdu.’… 
    Even in her autobiography, Raseedi Tikkat (Revenue Stamp),
 Amrita writes of the eloquent silence that characterized their relationship: 
  When Sahir would come to meet me in Lahore,
 it was as if an extension of my silence had occupied the adjacent chair and then gone away. 
 He would quietly smoke his cigarettes, putting out each after having finished only half of it.
 He would then light a new cigarette. 
After he would leave, the room would be full of his unfinished cigarettes. 
 I would keep these remaining cigarettes carefully in the cupboard after he left. I
 would only light them while sitting alone by myself.
 When I would hold one of these cigarettes between my fingers, I would feel as 
if I was touching his hands. 
 This is how I took to smoking. Smoking gave me the feeling that he was close to me.
 He appeared, each time, like a genie in the smoke emanating from the cigarette…
  Given such devotion on her part, it is not surprising that
 when Amrita learnt of Sahir’s involvement with another woman in 1960,
 she was left extremely distressed. 
  Sudha Malhotra was in her early twenties when rumours of an alleged affair
 between her and Sahir Ludhianvi began doing the rounds
 in film circles in the late 1950s. Sudha had recently entered the world 
of playback singing and had managed to carve a niche
 for herself in a short time with a few songs, most of them penned by
 Sahir, which became enormously popular. 
    I met Sudha in the opulent surroundings of her bungalow in Khar (West), 
Mumbai, in early 2010. I must admit that I was apprehensive 
of asking someone of her age (now in her late seventies) details about 
a past relationship in the lead-up to the interview… 
  He must have liked my voice… I don’t know what it was, but he was definitely very 
enamoured.
 He kept giving me good songs
 to sing, which was my achievement… Every morning I used to get a call from him,
 but it was always related to work. 
 My uncle would tease me, ‘Tere morning alarm ka phone aa gaya hai’.. 
All I know was that attention was being showered 
on me and I was lapping it up. As a young girl, if somebody, such an important person,
 is giving you so much attention, 
you enjoy it, she said. 
 In the same breath, she rebutted the thought of ever having entertained the idea of 
romancing  Sahir: It didn’t even cross my mind once… 
    The gossip, though, never went away. In fact, it increased to the extent that the
 line between fact and fiction got blurred.
 It was suggested that the song Chalo ik baar phir se ajnabi bann jaayein hum dono,
 sung by Mahendra Kapoor in Gumraah (1963),
 was a vicarious expression of anguish by Sahir for Sudha… 
    After 1960, the year she got married, Sudha stopped singing in Hindi films. 
She did not sing for Sahir or anyone else. Neither did she meet him again… 
    The opening lines of one of Sahir’s songs, sung once again by Sudha,
probably summarize the relationship best: 
Tum mujhe bhool bhi jao, toh yeh haq hai tumko
 Meri baat aur hai, maine toh mohabbat ki hai. 
    Extracted with permission 
    from Sahir Ludhianvi – The 
    People’s Poet by Akshay Manwani, published by Harper 

साहिर आणि जादू -- -गुलजार .

साहिर आणि जादू
ही साहिरच्या अंत्ययात्रेपूर्वीची गोष्ट आहे.
मी गोष्ट 'जादू'ची सांगतोय, पण संदर्भ साहिर लुधियानवींचा आहे.
जादू आणि साहिरचं नातं मोठं विचित्र होतं. जादू हे जावेद अख्तरचं टोपणनाव. एकदम शायराना अंदाज... आख्खं खानदानच असं. बाप जाँ निसार अख्तर. मामा मजाज आणि आता सासरे कैफी आझमी.
बापाबद्दल आदर कधीच नव्हता त्याला. कसलातरी राग होता. नाराजी होती त्याच्या नसानसांत. आपल्या बापाविरुद्ध. आई जिवंत असताना कसाबसा सहन करायचा. पण ती गेल्यावर, छोट्या-छोट्या गोष्टींवर घर सोडून बाहेर पडायचा आणि सरळ साहिरच्या घरी जाऊन पोहोचायचा. त्याचं तोंड बघूनच साहिरना समजून जायचं की परत बापाशी भांडून आलाय. पण ते अजिबात त्यावर बोलत नसत. त्यांना ठाऊक होतं पहिलं तर जादू भडकून उठेल आणि मग रडायला लागेल. दोन्ही परिस्थितींत त्याला सांभाळणं कठीण होतं.
थोडी उसंत घेऊन ते म्हणत, “जादू, चल ये, नाष्टा करुन घे.”
आणि मग नाष्टा करता-करता जादू स्वतःच भडभडून बोलायला लागायचा आणि तो बिघडलेला दिवस त्यांच्याकडंच घालवायचा. पण कधी-कधी काय व्हायचं, साहिर त्याला सावध करायचे, “अख्तर येतोय. दुपारच्या जेवणाला.”
जादू मान वर करुन पहायचा, इथंही चैन नाही. त्याला वाटलं तर तो साहिरसमोरच बोलला असता, “हा बाप, प्रत्येक ठिकाणी, प्रत्येक वेळी. का?”
जादू मुलगा होता जाँ निसार अख्तर चा, पण स्वभावानं आपल्या मामावर, मजाज वर गेला होता. अतिशय भावूक आणि भयंकर तापट... साहिरनी त्याला मुलासारखं पोसलं आणि मित्रासारखं सांभाळलं. साहिर म्हणत, “जादू, 'ऐरोज'ला मस्त पिक्चर लागलाय यार. काय बरं नाव... जा जाऊन बघून ये...”
आणि अशा प्रकारे ते बाप-लेकाचं समोरासमोर येणं टाळत. मोठं विलक्षण नातं होतं, साहिर आणि जादूचं.
एकदा तो साहिरच्या घरातूनही निघून गेला.
“तुम्हीच जास्त डोक्यावर चढवून ठेवलंय माझ्या बापाला.”
साहिरना हसू आलं. त्यावर जादू म्हणाला, “माझा बाप पण असाच हसतो माझ्यावर. मला नकोय कुणीच. ना तो ना तुम्ही.” आणि भांडून घरातून निघून गेला.
काही दिवस गायब झाला. अतिशय स्वाभिमानी. कुठं झोपायचा, कुठं खायचा, कुणास ठाऊक.
कमाल साहेबांच्या, कमाल अमरोहींच्या प्रॉडक्शन मॅनेजरशी दोस्ती होती. संध्याकाळ त्याच्यासोबतच घालावायचा आणि रात्री तिथंच स्टुडिओ मध्ये, प्रॉडक्शन स्टोअर मध्ये झोपून जायचा. अशा स्टोअरमध्ये जिथं सगळ्या प्रकारचं प्रॉडक्शनचं सामान पण भरुन ठेवलेलं होतं. मीना कुमारीच्या दोन फिल्म फेअर अवॉर्डच्या ट्रॉफी पण पडल्या होत्या तिथं. हा पठ्ठ्या आरशासमोर उभा राहून स्वतःला ट्रॉफी सादर करायचा, मग ती ट्रॉफी स्वतःच स्वीकारायचा, मग उपस्थितांच्या वतीनं टाळ्या पण वाजवायचा, आणि मग कमरेत झुकून लोकांना अभिवादनही करायचा. जादूनं एका इंटरव्ह्यू मध्ये सांगितलं होतं की जवळपास रोज, झोपण्यापूर्वी तो अशी रिहर्सल करायचा. बरेच दिवस काढले त्यानं स्टुडिओमध्ये.
त्यानंतर जेव्हा साहिरच्या घरी दिसला तेव्हा चेहरा उतरला होता, तोंड सुकलं होतं. साहिरनी प्रेमानं बोलावलं पण जादूचा राग अजून गेला नव्हता.
“फक्त आंघोळीसाठी तुमचं बाथरुम आणि साबण वापरायचाय. तुमची काही हरकत नसेल तर.”
“जरुर.” साहिरनी परवानगी दिली आणि म्हटलं, “काहीतरी खाऊन घे.”
“खाईन कुठंतरी. तुमच्याकडं खायचं नाहीये मला.”
आंघोळ करुन आला तर साहिर, ड्रेसिंग टेबलवर शंभरची नोट समोर ठेऊन, उगाचच आपल्या केसांतून कंगवा फिरवत बसले होते. खरं तर, मनातल्या मनात शब्दांची जुळवाजुळव करत होते, जावेदला कसं म्हणावं शंभर रुपये ठेव म्हणून. जावेदच्या स्वाभिमानी बाण्याची भीतीही वाटे आणि आदरही. अखेर घाबरत-घाबरत बोलून टाकलं.
“जादू, हे शंभर रुपये ठेव. मी घेईन तुझ्याकडून.”
शंभर रुपये त्या जमान्यात खूप मोठी रक्कम होती. शंभरची नोट मोडायची तर लोक बँकेत जात, किंवा पेट्रोल पंपावर.
जादूनं नोट अशी घेतली की जणू साहिरवर उपकारच करतोय,
“ठेवून घेतोय. परत करेन. पगार होईल तेव्हा.”
जावेद, शंकर मुखर्जींकडं असिस्टंट म्हणून लागला होता जिथं त्याची ओळख सलीम खानशी झाली. खूप कमावलं त्यानंतर त्यानं. दारु प्यायचा मामासारखी आणि पिऊन बापावर राग काढायचा, साहिर स्टाइलनं. पण ते शंभर रुपये त्यानं कधी परत नाही दिले. हजारो कमावले, मग लाखोही आले, पण नेहमी हेच म्हणायचा साहिरना,
“तुमचे शंभर रुपये तर मी गडप केले.”
आणि साहिर पण नेहमी म्हणत, “ते तर मी तुझ्याकडून वसूल करेनच बेट्या...!”
ही छेड-छाड, साहिर आणि जादू मध्ये अखेरपर्यंत चालू रहिली, आणि दोस्ती अखंड कायम राहिली.
साहिरचा खूप मोठा मित्रपरिवार तर नव्हता, पण ते माणसांत रमायचे, आणि संध्याकाळची पिऊन झाली की कित्येकांची ऐशी-तैशी करुन टाकायचे. जेव्हा कृष्णचंद्रवाल्या घरी होते, तेव्हा त्यांचे जुने स्नेही ओम प्रकाश अश्क बरीच वर्षं त्यांच्यासोबत राहिले. एकदा माझ्यादेखतच अश्क साहेब म्हणाले होते पंजाबीतून,
“साहिर, दारु पिल्यावर तू शिवीगाळ का करायला लागतोस?”
साहिरनी पंजाबीतच उत्तर दिलं होतं, “दारु सोबत चकना पण पाहिजे ना यार.”
साहिरच्या मित्रमंडळीमध्ये एक डॉक्टर कपूर पण होते, जे स्वतः हृदयरोगी होते, पण साहिरचे डॉक्टर. साहिर म्हणत असत, “कपूर, मी तुला बघायला येऊ, की स्वतःला दाखवायला येऊ!”
त्या संध्याकाळी... त्या अखेरच्या संध्याकाळीही असंच झालं. दरम्यानच्या काळात, साहिरनी स्वतःचं घर बांधलं होतं. 'परछाइयाँ'. डॉ. कपूर वर्सोव्याच्या एका बंगल्यात जाऊन राहिले होते. जादू एक प्रचंड यशस्वी रायटर बनला होता. त्या संध्याकाळी साहिर, डॉ. कपूरना बघायला गेले होते. निरोप आला होता की त्यांची तब्येत ठीक नाही. हार्ट स्पेशलिस्ट डॉ. सेठ त्यांना बघायला येणार होते. बहुतेक रामानंद सागर पण होते तिथं. किंवा नंतर आले असतील. साहिरनी कपूरांच्या करमणुकीसाठी पत्ते मागवले आणि त्यांच्याच बिछान्यात बसून खेळू लागले. पत्ते वाटता-वाटता अचानक डॉ. कपूरनी पाहिलं, साहिरचा चेहरा आखडत चाललाय. बहुदा कळ दाबायचा प्रयत्न करत होते ते. कपूरनी आवाज दिला, 'साहिर'!
आणि त्याबरोबर साहिर, त्या बिछान्यात लवंडले. डॉ. सेठ येऊन पोहोचले. खूप प्रयत्न केला हृदय पूर्ववत करण्याचा. पण साहिर निवर्तले होते. डॉ. कपूरांना घाबरं-घुबरं झालेलं पाहून रामानंद सागर, त्यांना ताबडतोब तिथून हलवून आपल्या घरी घेऊन गेले.
साहिरचा ड्रायव्हर अन्वर धावत आला. त्यानं प्रेत ताब्यात घेतलं. यश चोप्रा त्यांच्या अगदी जवळ रहायचे. त्यांच्याकडं निरोप पाठवला तर ते श्रीनगरला गेले होते. त्यानंतर जादूला कळवलं. ड्रायव्हर नव्हता तर ते टॅक्सी घेऊन पोहोचले. आणि त्या टॅक्सीतून जादू, साहिरना त्यांच्या घरी घेऊन आले, परछाइयाँ मध्ये. अन्वर आणि टॅक्सीवाल्याच्या मदतीनं त्यांना वर घेऊन गेले. फर्स्ट फ्लोअर वर, जिथं ते रहायचे.
जादूनं जणू मौनव्रत घेतलं होतं. पण घरी पोहोचताच तो ज्या पद्धतीनं त्यांच्या गळ्यात पडून रडला, आयुष्यात कधी असा रडला नव्हता. रात्रीचा एक वाजला असेल. कुठं जायचं? कुणाला बोलवायचं? काही नाही केलं जादूनं. एकटा बसून राहिला त्यांच्या शेजारी. शेजार-पाजारचे लोक पोहोचले होते. एक शेजारी म्हणाला, थोड्या वेळात प्रेत आखडू लागेल. दोन्ही हात छातीवर घेऊन बांधून टाका. नंतर अवघड होऊन बसेल.
जादू अखंड रडत होता आणि लोक जे काही सांगतील ते सगळं करत राहिला.
मग सकाळ होता-होता लोकांना फोन करणं सुरु केलं. बातमी पसरत गेली तसतसे लोक जमा होऊ लागले. बसायला सतरंज्या काढा. इथल्या खुर्च्या हलवा. तिकडचा दरवाजा उघडा. लहान मुलासारखे, जादूचे अश्रू वाहतच होते आणि तो ही सगळी कामं करत होता.
अंत्ययात्रेच्या तयारीसाठी खाली आला तर पाहिलं की टॅक्सीवाला तिथंच उभा आहे.
“ऊफ्‍! सांगितलं का नाहीस? किती पैसे झाले तुझे?”
तो कुणी पापभीरु मनुष्य होता. ताबडतोब हात जोडले.
“मी साहेब... नाही पैशांसाठी नाही थांबलो. हे असं झाल्यावर कुठं जाणार होतो रात्री?”
जादूनं खिशातून पाकीट काढलं.
टॅक्सीवाला पुन्हा म्हणाला,
“नाही साहेब, राहू द्या साहेब.”
जादू जवळजवळ ओरडून म्हणाला, “हे घे, ठेव हे शंभर रुपये. मेल्यावर पण वसूल केले आपले पैसे.”
आणि धाय मोकलून रडू लागला.
ही साहिरच्या अंत्ययात्रेपूर्वीची गोष्ट आहे.

-गुलजार .