While the world and its cousins were all talking about the sad news of Rajesh Khanna’s demise, Yahoo also ran this rather random, and well, poignant news report on actor Satish Kaul that I am sure most of us would have missed.
For those who don’t know, Mr. Kaul was the A-grade actor in B-grade films like Kabrastan and Khooni Mahal and the B-grade actor in A-grade films like Karma and Ram Lakhan. His duet with Rama Vij in Bahu Beta aur Maa is a great lesson for the film actors of generations-to-come on how to emote through an entire love song while suffering from acute constipation, mouthing lines like Dhaga ragon ka sui mein piro ke button laga doon oh meri sajni oh soniyoe.
Amongst his more popular roles, he played one of the dead sons of Dilip Kumar in Karma. Apt. Also, his dead brother in the film was Shashi Puri, another actor born to fill the pages of a respected forum like ‘I love trashy hindi movies’, but we shall reserve that for some other time.
Mr. Kaul was found rather dashing in gaudy costumes, and he played Madhusudan, Yuvraj Anandsen, Yuvraj Ajay, Yuvraj Vajramukti, Suryamal and many more such characters that would continuously wet Ramanand Sagar’s ornamented underpants in serials like Vikram aur Betaal and Dada Dadi Ki Kahaniyan on Doordarshan. From what I remember, he also played the bit role of the over-the-top filmstar in Aziz Mirza’s TV serial Manoranjan, again, on DD.
Apparently, Mr. Kaul, after working in 60-odd Hindi and Punjabi films (Amongst other movies, he was also the hero of Munda Naram Te Kudi Garam. Respect.) and running a film school (the ad on OLX mentions he has done close to 300 films, btw), is now going through some very rough times. And since he has no place or family to go back home to, he just got himself and all his trophies collected over the years from organizations like City Club, Jalandhar and Agarwaal Mahasabha, Bulandshahar, checked into some Red Cross Senior Citizens’ Home in Ludhiana. Quite a moving story, this, because it really is painful to see old actors, dyed hair, wrinkled skin, rusted trophies, et al, trying to live what was but no longer is. No matter howmuchever bad they were as actors.
BUT this is where the Yahoo report turns rather arbitrary and funny and actually starts begging for a place of its own in any forum dedicated to all things trashy.
I quote from the report: “But the question is what’s the reason behind this situation? Copyright! Our country is quite very lenient on copyright laws, and hence, it leads to this. Injustice, right? So what’s the solution? A strong copyright law that gives due admiration to all”.
Okay. That helped.
PS: Whoever has given the VO in this report, you are my dream girl. I would love to give you due admiration some time. Quite very lenient I am. Promise.
Posting something I had written for “I love trashy hindi movies” long time back…
Understanding the exact factors leading to the kind of socio-political-cultural change the TV serial Ramayan could bring into the Indian subcontinent has always been a rather baffling experience for me. Despite my best efforts, I have never been able to crack how on earth could the Maganlal Dresswaala foreground and the rapturously revolting Ravindra Jain background catch the fancy of so very many viewers across the country. Seriously – and this is where it gains significance in our forum – Ramayan, at best, was B-grade cinema in a pukishly pretty mythological avatar, with a rather cracked conglomeration of lousy actors, lousy sets, lousy costumes, lousy wigs, lousy masks, lousy special effects and lousy everything else.
Compared to Ramayan, the other lethal mix of Punjabi-Bollywod aesthetics and Gujarati-Bollywood imagery, Mahabharat, was a shade better in terms of production values. But even this BR Chopra creation finds its rather important place under the sun in our space, essentially because of the wealth of actors it could contribute to the cause of B-grade cinema. Gajendra Chauhan, Girija Shankar, Pankaj Dheer, Nazneen, Arjun, Puneet Issar, Mukesh Khanna … quite a few of these guys actually stemmed from the abyss and then went back again to where they belonged immediately after the serial got over.
Okay, before some of you decide to burn me, my laptop and my computer table (and Vijaypat Singhania’s hospital, MF Husain’s paintings and a few cybercafés, while you are at it), this is not meant to be a comment on the epics. It is the sheer shoddiness of these serials, and the scars that that they have left, that I am commenting on, specifically talking about their actors.
Deepika Chikhalia: Ekta Kapoor used to be a normal girl growing up on Mills & Boon and Nancy Drew, playing hopscotch with her little sister Tushar. Till she watched Deepika aka Seeta in action, that is. And that’s where she found the prototype of Tulsi, Parvati and what have you, all rolled into one. Deepika was the immediate cause for E-jee’s mental degeneration that has led to the K-attacks being inflicted on us. Ms. Chikhalia went on to do two bit roles in a few movies opposite Rajesh Khanna (this was in the bloated-rectangular-face phase of RK’s life; the bearded-dried-tomato look followed later) and also became a respected Member of Parliament. Yeah, that’s the same place where Hema Malini and Dharmendra also go once in a while. Uggh.
Sanjay Jog: He was the non-smoking brother of Ram. Jog did impress in his character of Bharat, but his career could not move beyond Jigarwaala or Naseebwaala. Wonder where he is right now. He would have found employment in any of the BATA showrooms. Nobody takes care of footwear as he does, seriously.
Sunil Lahri: From bhaiyya Ram to bhaiyya Kishan… wow! If somebody could do a two bit role in a two bit actor’s debut film (the reference, of course, is to Aaja Meri Jaan) then that man must surely be out of job. I rest my case.
Vijay Arora: Vijay Arora sang Chura Liya to Zeenie baby. And then he played the lead in Nagin aur Suhagin. And then he widened his eyes and landed up as Meghnad, looking like Karunanidhi without his glares, speaking Hindi in Punjabi. Arora’s rapist-in-a-dhoti look did not find any takers following the epic, and though he did do ten odd movies subsequently, his career graph could never go further north.
Talking of actors from Ramayan, special mention to Padma Khanna aka Kaekayi. Guru Suleiman Chela Pehelwan, Ghunghru ki Awaaz, Sultana Daku, Kasam Durga Ki… Padma Khanna was destined to do B-grade Hindi films, though she did end up doing a not so bad job in whatever better movies she could act in. And, of course, there was Dara Singh, the king of the B-bling. Nalayak. Boxer. Lutera. King Kong. Raaka. Badshah. Hercules. Samson. Faulad. Rustam-e-Baghdad. Jagga Daku. Sherdil. Khakaan. Tufaan. And this on-screen Hanuman also could squeeze Mumtaz in his spare time. I bow to thee, master!
Before I move to actors from that other epic Mahabharat, let me reiterate that my list is not at all comprehensive. I am sure I have missed quite a few gems. I would put the blame squarely on Jambwant, yet another of those Ramayan characters, for my sudden loss of memory. I just remembered him, and unfortunately, my thought process is stuck now. If you are not familiar with him, imagine a fat man with thick black hair all over his face and body. Then imagine the same man constipated for 10 continuous days and despite all the sat isabgols of the world, unable to get it out. Now imagine the same man attempting to utter “Shree Ram”. Yeah, that was Jambwant. And yeah, thanks for sympathizing with me.
Mukesh Khanna: Naam – Bheeshm Pitamah. Baap ka naam – Deenanath Chauhan. That sums up our man in Mahabharat. Khanna moved on to become the quintessential Thakur/ policeman across various movies, progressing from Jaidev Singh to Suraj Pratap Singh to Shakti Singh to Mangal Singh to Thakur Raghuveer Singh to Khushwant Singh to Thakur Harnam Singh to Rana Mahendra Pratap Garewal to Rai Bahadur Mahendra Pratap Singh. Btw, those were real names of the characters he has played, no kidding! Meanwhile, he also produced, directed and acted in this brilliantly tacky TV serial called Shaktiman, which has helped a whole load of unintelligent lower middle class kids stay the same all their lives.
Girija Shankar: No blind man can look as lecherous as Dhritrashtra looked in Mahabharat, simultaneously eyeing Gandhari, Kunti, Draupadi and all the hired straight-out-of-a-dandia-night extras with his kaat-loonga looks which only Girija Shankar could produce. Amongst his 15 unforgettable movies subsequent to Mahabharat, I would give special mention to Divine Lovers (produced and directed by B. Subhash of Tarzan fame), where he plays this Indian guru cum psychologist cum psychiatrist cum doctor called Dr. Pran! Please watch this movie to witness Bappi da’s English songs, Mark Zuber’s claws, some quality soft porn action (Don’t judge me. I was in college then!) and Hemant Birje’s bare bum (Don’t judge me. Even if I was in college then!).
Dharmesh Tiwari: Tiwari played Kripacharya in Mahabharat. Then he acted in Aurat Aurat Aurat. His claim to fame is that he has been the President/ Secretary of Cine and TV Artistes Association for the longest time. Obviously, they follow the BCCI model.
Pankaj Dheer: From Mera Suhag to playing Karna in Mahabharat and then to the Zee Horror Show, Dheer’s filmography could have been more impressive had he got the right breaks. Pity, because he could act better than lots of the other guys.
Gajendra Chauhan: Gajendra as Yudhishtir could display a whole plethora of emotions in the show. Sample this.
The poignant: (nasal twang) “Mumble, mumble, mumble, mata shri!”
The brave: (nasal twang) “Mumble, mumble, mumble, bhrata shri!”
The sensitive: (nasal twang) “Mumble, mumble, mumble, Panchali!”
The decisive: (nasal twang) “Mumble, mumble, mumble, Duryodhan!”
Yeah, he was quite an actor, this guy. Which is why he could still be seen as Pinky’s dad in Billa No. 786 and as a car salesman in Baghban.
Roopa Ganguli: Krishna saved her in Mahabharat. Wish he was also around to save her from Bahaar Aane Tak, Inspector Dhanush and Meena Bazaar. Good actor, though. She has done a few quality Bangla films, making up for her debacle in the Hindi market.
Puneet Issar: A blur of massive chest hair is all what I remember of Puneet Issar from the show. Of course, he had already proven his talent in Purana Mandir, Saamri, Zalzala and Zinda Laash before he cracked the role of Duryodhan. I guess he had done enough of sari pulling already. After Mahabharat, Khooni Murda and Roti ki Keemat are enough indicators of Issar’s superb body of work. And if that does not impress you, unravel this man through his directorial debut Garv: Pride and Honor. I am getting goose bumps already.
Arjun: He was quite the hero of Mahabharat. And with actors like Praveen Kumar and Gajendra Chauhan playing his brothers, he did not have to work extra hard for that, either. Unfortunately for him, he did not find any takers in the film industry, and was reduced to playing the comic villain sidekick in films after films. Don’t know where he is now. Poor sod, his vanvas continues.
Nitish Bharadwaj: He who perfected the art of smiling with his lips sealed and the art of nodding with his head unmoved, Nitish won quite a few admirers for his performance as Krishna. The charm did not last beyond the great war. A few insipid movies like Trishagni, Naache Nagin Gali Gali and Sangeet later, he was back in his Krishna avatar, only this time asking for votes for BJP. As of now, he wears Made-in-Ludhiana pullovers and is some kind of a lower level spokesperson for his party.
To come to their defense, the tragedy of most of the religious stars is that their screen image becomes so very imposing that the audience just refuses to accept them in form of any other character. Despite the roaring mega-success of Jai Santoshi Ma, Anita Guha could not do anything significant, EVER. This, precisely, is the reason why most of the religious stars’ careers – including the ones discussed – have taken such sharp nosedives after their initial success. Unless, of course, they have been saved by Kanti Shah and his producer brethren. Thank god for that! ;-)
If you are here hoping to start a discussion on the 10 Best Hindi Film Songs of All Time, you may want to stop reading, like, now.
Hindi cinema has had so many gems that the biggest and the brightest experts on movies and music would find it tough to create a list of even the 100 best, leave alone the 10 Best Hindi Songs of all time. The expanse is awfully wide, ranging from K L Saigal to Amit Trivedi and everybody else in between. And I sure am not the right person to generate the list. Not because I am not capable, but because it may just be sacrilegious to take one song and leave another considering the number of great songs that we have had. And, also because I am not capable.
But here I am. Still hitting the imaginary keys of the imaginary typewriter, and feeling adequately writerish, if there ever was such a word. Here’s why. I may not be good enough to pick up the 10 Best Songs, but hey, I sure am bad enough to pick up the 10 Worst Hindi Film Songs of All Time. True story.
When I say bad songs, I don’t quite have songs like Choli ke peechhe kya hai, Sarkaye liyo khatiya jaada lage or Chadh gaya oopar re in my mind. Choli ke peechhe is not exactly high art, but it did serve the purpose of being this raunchy raw number in a situation that required a raunchy raw number, and being judgmental about that would mean being silly. But more importantly, I do not want to take the moral high ground here and castigate racy songs just because they are, well, racy. Also, fyi, the answer is boobs.
I have also let go of the South Indian entries rehashed in Hindi. So Telephone dhun mein hansne waali, Melbourne machhli machalne waali would not find a place in my list despite the lyricist PK Mishra’s greatness staring at us. In fact, my entire list can be made out of the contribution from Robot and Indian, but that would be kind of playing favorites.
Have consciously avoided Hindi film songs in English, because it is grossly unfair to their Hindi counterparts, and these songs really don’t need my certification, in any case. Here’s why. My heart is beating. Keeps on repeating. I am waiting for you. My love encloses. A plot of roses. And when shall be then. Our next meeting. Cause love you know. That time is fleeting. Time is fleeting. Time is fleeting. Now picture somebody called Lakshmi singing those lines while being directed by one K S Sethumadhavan. If you still don’t understand where I am coming from, I wanna chiggie wiggie witcha boy.
You would also not find any of those hybrid songs like ILU ILU, Lazy lamhen and Zara zara touch me. They are neither here, nor there. Certainly not here.
Last, I have not taken songs that were meant to be funny intentionally. This would mean no C.A.T cat, cat mane billi or Shaam dhale khidki tale tum seeti bajana chhod do or Main Laila Laila chillaunga kurta phaad ke.
The lyrics and the songs of each era reflect the socio-cultural scenario they have emerged from, deserving their place of honour or dishonour under the sun. I am no expert at judging the creations of others but I certainly am an expert at making these cover-your-ass statements like I just did. So. Here I go. In no particular order.
1. Hato Hato Doctoron Ki Toli Aayi. If you ever thought Who let the dogs out was the first song to get inspired by the barking dog/s, don’t ever say this to Rajesh Roshan. Everybody from the Roshan clan would laugh uproariously, mock at you and then do wild high fives (Insert Hrithik Roshan high-six joke here) after hearing you. This song talks about a doctoron ki toli, and the incredible acts of this she-dog Tommy. Tommy is the name of a bitch. Yes. Now let me not spoil your fun. Here are the lyrics penned by Indeevar: Hato hato doctoron ki toli aayi, toli aayi. Compounder saath mein Tommy laayi, Tommy laayi. Bow. Bow Wow. Bow. Bow Wow. Baat jo bigdi hai ban jaayegi. Saath mein beautiful nurse laayi. I have not had the chance to see this dog or the song, but it is from the 1991 film Karz Chukana Hai, starring Govinda. Okay. Case closed. Also, the inspiration for this song, if at all, is the Patti Page number How much is that doggie in the window.
2. Ek Rasgulla Kahin Phat Gaya Re. To be fair, there are too many Govinda songs that can make it to the list and it is very strenuous to decide on the best worst Govinda song/s. He is the one who has mouthed immortal lines like Tujhko mirchi lagi toh main kya karun, Meri pant bhi sexy and Main tujhko bhaga laya hoon tere ghar se, tere baap ke dar se. But this song from the 1990 film Izzatdaar is special because it has been picturized on Madhuri Dixit along with Govinda. The actors are in a state of inebriation a la Jai Jai Shiv Shankar, and this is the high point of their musical conversation: Sun oh mister. Oh mister. Sun oh mister. Oh mister. Mister. Oh mister. Ek taaza khabar. Mmmmmmm. Ek rasgulla kahin phat gaya re. Re baba re. Phat ke jalebi se lipat gaya re. I could not figure who has written these lyrics but whoever could imagine an exploding rasgulla tightly hugging a jalebi after getting torn off, I would want to get pregnant with your child.
3. Angoor Ka Dana Hoon. Sui Na Chubha Dena. That’s a fair ask. Because no self respecting angoor ka daana would want to be pin-pricked by a needle. This is why: Angoor ka daana hoon. Sui na chubha dena. Sui jo chubhayi toh ras tapkega. Jo ras tapkega toh… Kiss. Miss. Kissmiss. Kissmiss ban jaaungi. Roughly translated, this is how the song goes: “I am a grape, a fruiting berry of the deciduous woody vines of the botanical genus described as Vitis”. Ha, fooled you, that’s Wikipedia talking! But seriously, I don’t think the song can be explained. It has to be absorbed somewhere deep down inside. If you cannot understand the lyrics, you don’t understand literature. Go drown. Thank you, Kavita Krishnamurthy. Thank you Sawan Kumar Tak. Kiss. Miss. Kissmiss.
4. Main Toh Preetam Ko Kar Rahi Thi Ta Ta Re. The year was 1997. The film was Gudgudee. The actor was Pratibha Sinha. Check out the first two lines of the song: Main toh Preetam ko kar rahi thi ta ta re. Ki kaale kutte ne mujhe kaata re. What an agonizing situation to be in, poor girl. Bidding adieu to your loved one and being bitten by a black dog. Naturally, you expect her poignant tale of woes to continue in the next two lines of the song. And continue it does: Kaale kutte ne mujhe kaata re. Jab Preetam ko kar rahi thi ta ta re. So if you missed her heart-rending state of affairs in the earlier take, you certainly would get it now with that tear-jerking play of words. Oh, that bloody dog, the slayer of love. Btw, we had saved the best for the last. The director of this film was Basu Chatterjee. The Basu Chatterjee.
PS: Pratibha Sinha’s other claim to fame is this exceptional song exploring temporal spaces from the movie Military Raaj titled Kabhi hafte mein do hafte mein tu mil ja mujhko raste mein. Also, some people remember her for her tits.
5. I One Love Four You Three. This song has Mithun Chakraborty teaming up with Harish, telling us how professing one’s affection with an ‘I love you’ is passé. Harish, for those not in the know, is the only actor in the country who can pass off both as a South Indian bhelwala and a North Indian bhelwala with equal effortlessness. He also had played the heroine in Karishma Kapoor’s debut film Prem Qaidi. The song is reflective of the societal milieu of the post-liberalization 1990s. And this when I don’t even know what that last sentence meant. I One. Love Four. You Three. Bolo one four three. Yaani I love you. Bolo one four three. I love you hua purana. Yeh naya hai zamana. Nayi nayi baat karo. Jab bhi mulaqaat karo. Hoor ho ya pari. I One. Love Four. You Three. Bolo one four three. Yaani I love you. Bolo one four three. Yes. Indeed. Mithun Chakraborty, Harish, Mohammed Aziz, Udit Narayan, Jatin, Lalit, Arshad Khan, Salim Akhtar… they don’t make them like you anymore, comrades. One Four Three all.
6. Kya Gaadi Hai. Kya Number Hai. Or this is how Jackie Shroff describes his ladylove Sangeeta Bijlani in the 1991 film Lakshmanrekha. The cringing candescence of this Amit Kumar song lights up my dull and dark days even now. Kya gaadi hai. Kya number hai. Kya body hai. Kya bumper hai. Oopar se dekho. Neeche se dekho. Aage se dekho. Peechhe se dekho. Kahin se dekho ji. Haai kya baat hai. Haai kya baat hai. If this isn’t subtle, what is? But please don’t try this at home.
Special mention to this other Jackie Shroff number Back Maarti Hai Front Maarti Hai. Jackie plays a Police Officer in this 1992 film of the same name. And he sings this song for Karishma Kapoor: Back maarti hai. Fur-runt maarti hai. Dekho yeh ladki current maarti hai. Ladki samajh ke issko na chhoona. Yeh kaali nagin ka hai namoona. Dant maarti hai yeh dunk maarti hai. Dekho yeh ladki current maarti hai. Everytime this song gets played on radio or TV, a girl gets molested and goes to a Police Officer. Or sometimes the girl goes to the Police Officer and gets molested. Which other film would have an impact like this!
7. You Are My Chicken Fry. You Are My Fish Fry. While it is an unhappy sight, I can so visualize Bappi Lahiri moving around with spring in his steps and in his gold crusted Spongebob boxers after conjuring this song up. Chicken Fry was Bappi da’s eureka moment. (Okay, the sight just became unhappier, bathtub et al.) Not every day does such brilliance strike the human race: You are my chicken fry. You are my fish fry. Kabhi na kehna kudiye bye bye bye. Wow. Only the cruellest and the most heartless kudiye can reject such a passionate and warm plea. Therefore, the good girl replies, in affirmation: You are my samosa. You are my masala dosa. Main na kahungi mundya bye bye bye. Moral of the story: Angoor ka dana hoon deserves the Nobel prize for Literature.
8. It’s 6 AM. I Love You Mom. Annu Malik hit the creative goldmine with this song from the 2003 film Khushi. Sung by Sonu Nigam and picturized on Fardeen Khan in his shorts, the song can inspire you for life. It’s 6 am. I love you, mom. I’ll have some cornflakes. Mujhe milega dum. I’ll have good shower. And a shave. Listen to music. It’s gotta be late. Put on my jeans. And Provogue shirt. Ladki dhoondoonga. With short short skirts. Mere dil mein phool khil rahe hain. Chaand tare din mein khil rahe hain. Pyaar hone ko hai. Dil khone ko hai. O ho O ho O. Good morning, India. This is it. I love you mom. Mujhe milega dum. I’m this cokehead. Must go to bed. What khushi!
9. Din Mein Leti Hai. I had consciously decided to avoid the double entendre songs or songs that were conceived with the premise that they had to be crass and vulgar to titillate and shock. Plenty examples. Saat saheliyan khadi khadi, Main maalgaadi tu dhakka laga, Kal saiyyan ne aisi bowling kari, Khada hai khada hai khada hai dar pe tera ashique khada hai or Bhaag DK Bose and Oonche se ooncha banda potty par baithe nanga from recent times. But I have still kept this one song from the 1994 film Amanat in my list for the sheer audacity of its creators – Bappi Lahiri, Kumar Sanu, Anwar Sagar, Illa Arun, Alka Yagnik – to believe that they could get away with something like this. They did. Din mein leti hai. Raat mein leti hai. Subah ko leti hai. Shaam ko leti hai. Kya bura hai. Usska naam leti hai. Arre bol bol kiska? Apne saajan ka. Apne baalam ka. Apne preetam ka. Apne jaanam ka.
PS: Ila Arun, how do you sing with that machine running?
10. Mister Prime Minister. Hey you. And you and you. Oll of you. Come here. Come hither. Brother and sister. And there. There miss. And this mister. Come whun come all. To know the how and see the who. Of this. Mister Prime Minister. Event of the times. Cold and sinister. Angel of a man. Not a fixter. Not a smooth operator. Then in down like a gutter. This Misther Prime Minister. Bappi Lahiri and Dev Anand joined forces to create this geriatric gobbledygook in the 2005 release called, uhm, Mr. Prime Minister. I give up.
And here’s the list of the also-rans.
1. Ladki Nahin Hai Tu Lakdi Ka Khamba Hai. The entire decade of 1980s belonged to Jeetendra with films like Maqsad, Tohfa, Sarfarosh, Mawaali, Haisiyat, Hoshiyar, Haqeeqat, Sanjog, Majaal and many more, touching the deepest depths of daftness, showcasing some of the most absurd songs of Hindi cinema ever produced, complete with flying colors, dancing matkas and Jayaprada in a petticoat. (One sec. Haan, hello. Kaun? Oh, Amar Singh ji? Haan sir, would send you the link asap.) Amongst all those charming numbers, our vote goes to this song from Himmatwala: Aiiiiiii. Ladki nahin hai tu lakdi ka khamba hai. Bakbak mat kar naak tera lamba hai. Aa aa. Idhar tu aa aa. Aiiiiiii. Ja. Aa gaya kehan se tu bada hi nikamma hai. Ja ke chhup ja tu wahan jahan teri amma hai. Ja ja. Arre tu ja ja. It takes the creative skills of somebody as intense as Indeevar to manufacture lyrical banter of this stature. Also, lamba naak instead of lambi naak? That was sheer genius, sir.
2. Bingo Bingo Bingo Main Hoon Bingo. Indian Cinema has showcased some great friends and friendship over the last 100 years. Jai Veeru. Ram Balram. Bharat Bhushan. (Okay, I made the last one up.) But nobody can beat the friendship between Bingo and Ringo in the 1985 release Ma Kasam. Amjad Khan and Mithun Chakraborty light up the screen in this Bappi Lahiri-Farooq Qaiser song of friendship, courage and valour. And they have Kalpana Iyer aka Pappi Sundaram for company. Bingo Bingo Bingo, main hoon Bingo. Ringo Ringo Ringo, main hoon Ringo. Haan haan main Pappi Sundaram. Sambhal ke rakhna har kadam. Karenge chhutti, Ma kasam. Ma kasam. Ma kasam. Enough said.
3. Main Ladki Po Po Po. As if romancing with Suneil Shetty in Hera Pheri wasn’t bad enough for Tabbu, she was also made to sing these awesome lines: Main ladki PO PO PO. Tu ladka PO PO PO. Hum dono mile PO PO PO. Ab aage hoga kya? Only a lyricist of Sameer’s calibre could ask such an existential question with such simplicity and also provide the answer through Suneil Shetty: Kuch nahin hoga kuch nahin hoga. Hum dono mein bas yeh hoga. PO PO PO. PO PO PO. PO PO PO. PO PO PO. PO PO PO. PO PO PO. PO PO… I swear I am not making up the number of POPOPOs in this song. Honest. And to add insult to injury, Shetty actually slaps Tabbu and then kicks her ass, literally, while rejecting her overtures in the middle of the song. What the PO.
4. Mere Baap Ki Beti Meko Bhai Bolti, Mere Baap Ki Biwi Meko Beta Bolti. Like Govinda, there are too many Salman Khan songs that can make it to the list. But I have chosen this one because of the ease with which it exposes the underbelly and the complexities of the great Indian family, and at the same time, highlights the hopes and aspirations of the common man. If that common man is Salman Khan, that is. Mere baap ki beti meko bhai bolti. Mere baap ki biwi meko beta bolti. Meri maa ka bhai meko bhaanja bolta. Mere bhai ki beti meko chacha bolti. Ooparwaale, tune, mujhko sab kuchh diya. Ab dede husband kehne waali sundar biwi. Never again has the great Indian joint family been represented in Hindi cinema like this. Must be a really good joint.
If you are not convinced with this selection, try this other Salman Khan song called Main Toh Mere Papa Ki Carbon Copy from the 2002 film Yeh Hai Jalwa: Nahin fax, nahin xerox, nahin telex ya computer ki floppy. Main to mere Papa ki carbon copy. And if you are still not convinced, well, let me not tell you mere baap ka beta tujhe kya bolta.
5. Do Me A Favor, Let’s Play Holi. To give Anu Malik the credit, he has had the distinction of making songs with lyrics as bizarre as Ek garam chai ki pyaali ho, Oonchi hai building lift teri band ha or Aaila re ladki badi mast mast fairly hummable. But that is still no defence for a song as moronic as this: Do me a favor let’s play holi. Rangon mein hai pyaar ki boli. Mere peechhe peechhe peechhe kyon aaye. Mera jiya jiya kyon dhadkaaye. Ja re ja don’t touch my choli. Uff yeh Holi. Haai yeh Holi. While Sameer has been credited with writing the lyrics of this song, one is more than sure this mukhda was penned by Mr. Malik considering the enthusiasm and passion with which he has sung the song, feeling the extent, intensity and power of pure love. Yes, Indian Aesthetics aficionados, THIS is shringar rasa for you, thank you.
Talking of purity and passion, Himesh Reshammiya’s Tandoori Nights deserves a place in here. If these nights of the roasted variety do not move you, you were born to Androids. Tak tana na na tandoori nights. Tandoori nights. Tandoori nights. Tak tana na na tandoori nights. Tandoori nights. Tandoori nights. Sama sharabi. Dono jahan sharabi. Rut rawan sharabi, dildar ve. Hawa sharabi. Teri ada sharabi. Yeh fiza sharabi, dildar ve. Tanha tanha hai dil. Tanha tandoori nights. If loving you is wrong, I don’t wanna be right. Rabba. Rabba. Meri jaan jale. Jale. Jale. Jale…
Compare these to the Qamar Jalalabadi song from the 1959 film Do Ustad, Ric Ric Tic Tic.The song goes Ric Ric Tic Tic Boom Boom Tic. Tere mere do dil ho gaye ik. Dil mein mere kar reha hai kaun aaj picnic. Funny, yes. Mildly inane, yes. But not Kiss Miss by a long shot. Or Po Po Po.
The reason why I mention Qamar Jalalabadi is that while Qamar Saab has given us songs like Aaiye meherbaan, baithiye jaanejaan and Ek pardesi mera dil le gaya, he can also take the credit for writing quite a few ‘non-regular’ songs in Hindi films, from Mera naam Chin Chin Chu to Worli ka naka aaka ka baaka on a regular basis. But he still never did compromise on the poetry despite the difference in tonality. Dum Dum Diga Diga. Mausam bhiga bhiga. Bin piye main toh gira. Main toh gira. Main toh gira. Haai allah. Surat aapki subhan allah. Cheesy. But still classy.
God bless this man. Pappi Sundaram to him. : )
(Originally posted on missmalini.com) | If you liked this note, you may also like The Gods Must Be trashy, Getting educated at Bollywood: Woh toh theek hai magar woh kab karenge! and Dear English in Bollywood… Zindagi bhar rahunga, yours faithfully!.