"The Moving Finger Writes..."

Translated from ‘Geet-Yatree’ by the late Shri Madhav Moholkar. The responsibility for any errors in translation is entirely mine.


Hazy memories of many songs play around in my mind. I feel they’re related to Geeta…but it’s difficult to be certain. ‘Door se ek pardesi aaya, poochho kya kya laya’ was one of Geeta’s songs from that era which I used to like a lot. I can still remember the tune. But which film was it from? Was it Geeta who sang with Rafi the duet ‘Kyon karta maan jawani ka, tu ek bulbula paani ka’ in Husnlal-Bhagatram’s ‘Naach’? Sometimes I remember ‘Tera kaaton se hai pyar, tera kaaton se…’- was it a Rafi-Geeta duet from Anil Biswas-C.Ramchandra’s ‘Girls’ School’? Was one stanza in ‘Kya bataoon mohabbat hai kya’ from Shankar-Jaikishan’s ‘Parbat’ sung by Geeta? My old like-minded friends are no longer around to answer these questions.


I would grieve over meaningless things which seemed, then, to matter far more than the everyday troubles of real life. Why doesn’t Naushad give Geeta Roy 12-14 songs in a music-oriented film? He’d done it time and again for many singers keeping in mind the characteristics and limitations of their voices.Those songs, those singers never faded from people’s memories. Saigal, Surendra, Umadevi, Talat, Mukesh, Rafi, Lata…Geeta should have figured on that list.If only Geeta had sung in at least one of Naushad’s films…A doubt rears its head sometimes: One stanza of Suraiya-Shyamkumar’s ‘Tu mera chand main teri chandni’ from “Dillagi” is picturised on a little girl on a swing.Her voice resembled Geeta’s.Was it Geeta’s?
Basically Geeta had a typical Bengali voice, born to sing soulful songs in Bengali tunes. Monochromatic.Playback singing converted it into a multi-coloured rainbow.Once, when I was newly acquainted with Geeta’s voice, I was fooled.I heard Madan Mohan’s ‘Mori atariya pe kagaa bole’ from ‘Aankhen’ and was convinced that it was sung by Geeta.But when, immediately afterwards I heard “Humein chhod piya kis des gaye’ which was on the other side of the record, I realized my mistake.’Mori atariya pe’ was definitely not Geeta’s voice though there was some resemblance.The singer was Meena Kapoor.She had a decent voice but blunt as compared to Geeta’s.The same was the case with Sandhya Mukherjee.Geeta Roy’s voice was sharp and ‘shiny’. In the words of the poet Grace ‘…the silken, gleaming knife blade of Geeta Roy’s voice…’so sharp and fine that it could effortlessly pierce one’s heart. I can’t say why but the stanza ‘har raat meri Diwali thi, main piya ki honewali thi’ from ‘Mera sundar sapna beet gaya’ creates the illusion of Ameerbai Karnataki.
In the early stages of her career, only Geeta’s sad songs used to be heard everywhere.A voice that spoke of the pain and hopelessness of life.It seemed to be a limitation of that voice. It seemed that she would keep singing the same sort of songs. Of course, every singer has limitations. I still remember that when I was young I used to feel that Talat was singing the same song again and again.Would the same happen with Geeta? ‘Mera sundar sapna beet gaya’, ‘Ek din humko yaad karoge’, and ‘Piya lautke aana bhool gaye’ from ‘Do Bhai’ were essentially of the same type.It seemed that Geeta would keep singing within this limited perimeter.But Geeta was to prove everybody wrong!

There was a Muslim boy in my school who used to wear a bright red shirt, white trousers, and a green handkerchief around his neck.When he spoke of someone with affection he’d call him ‘salaa’. About Geeta he’d complain,”Saali gaati acchha hai par roti bahut hai”(She sings well but cries a lot). He was a great fan of Shamshad Begum and Zohra and was very fond of Zohra’s songs like ‘Saamnewali gali mein mera ghar hai, pataa mera bhool na jaana’, ‘Mere jobana ka dekho ubhaar’, ‘Mera husn lootne aaya albela’. When Shamshad gave jhatkas on words like ‘wui ma’, ‘hai daiyya’, ‘hai ram’, he’d put his hands on his heart and exclaim “hai, hai”! On hearing Chitalkar’s ‘Jawani ki rail chali jaaye re’ he’d lose all self-control and emit ear-splitting whistles. Once he came running to my class during recess, grabed my wrist and said “Chal(come)”. Without bothering to answer my “Where?” he dragged me to Jikriya restaurant and told the man at the counter, “Woh naya record lagao!(Play that new record)” Well pleased with confused expression on my face as I Listened to the song, he said,”Abe saaley, ye wohi hai teri ronewaali!”(She's the same one, your crying singer.)
Geeta was singing in a seductive voice – Time is rapidly passing, love and beauty are transient.Youth is short, laugh and enjoy it.

“Husn bhi faani aur ishq bhi faani hai
hanske bitaale, do ghadi ki jawani hai
o re jeenewaale, o re bholebhaale, sona na, khona na
suno gajar kya gaaye, samay gujarta jaaye…”

It was hard to believe that this was the same Geeta who’d sung ‘Ek din humko yaad karoge’ and ‘Mera sundar sapna beet gaya’. This was the start of a new era in Geeta’s career.Her voice acquired a heady, intoxicating quality. It became increasingly apparent that Geeta’s voice was alluring, provocative, sensual.The same S.D.Burman who had recognized the pain in Geeta’s voice and given her sad songs in ‘Do Bhai’ recognized her sensuality and gave her the club dancer’s songs in ‘Baazi’. But the one who later made full use of the sex-appeal in her voice was O.P.Nayyar. Geeta’s voice – a heady brew of teasing flightiness, youth and intoxication - often reminds me of Neeraj’s lines: ‘Shokhiyon mein ghola jaaye phoolon ka shabab, usmein phir milayee jaaye thodisi sharab…’
She was a little younger than Lata.Both arrived on the scene at about the same time. Yet, unlike Lata, right from the start Geeta seemed to be in full bloom. The voices of Zohra, Shamshad, Rajkumari, Ameerbai, Noorjehan, Suraiya, and Surinder Kaur were the mature voices of women.Geeta’s voice, too, was that of a young woman.In Lata, for the first time, was heard the sweet, coaxing, tender voice of a girl.That voice so bewitched everyone that the few new female voices that entered films thereafter were of the same type – Suman Hemmady, Asha Bhosle, Sudha Malhotra, Madhubala Jhaveri, Hemlata, Sulakshana Pandit…Asha’s voice had Shamshad’s sharpness and Geeta’s allure but the type was that of Lata.After all these years Lata’s voice still sounds like a girl’s: smoother and more polished now, with the passage of time, but having lost its earlier softness and vulnerability.
Lata ruled our hearts for years but our love for Geeta never lessened, such was the enchantment of her eternally youthful voice. Lata was sugar, Geeta, sometimes sweet and sometimes spicy. Her voice wasn’t flat; it had depth. Compared to Lata’s it was multi-dimensional. It was changeable, flexible; with the ability to assume any form.Geeta sang ‘Baat chalat nayee chunari rang dali…’ so well that if she hadn’t entered films she could have become a singer to rival Lakshmi Shankar. Was classical music the true form of her voice? But then she’d suddenly become a ‘Jogan’ and sing ‘Main to Giridhar ke ghar jaaon…’
Who wrote that sublime story of a Yogini and the discontented, atheistic young man who created ripples in her quiet life? As I recollect, the film’s credits had a question mark after ‘Story’. Many say that the story of ‘Jogan’ was written by Sardar Chandulal Shah. Dilip Kumar and Nargis’ scenes are still imprinted on my mind. Bulo C.Rani’s music served to enhance the intensity of the film.I liked Talat’s ‘Sundarta ke sabhi shikari, koi nahin hai pujari…’ but the atmosphere of the entire film was permeated with Geeta’s voice.Eyes filled with the kohl of dark clouds and the heart with their thunder…
‘Zara tham ja tu ai sawan…
Mere sajan ko aane de...aane de…aane de…’
I used to like Juthika Roy as a bhajan singer.But her voice tended to sound monotonous. The first time in my life that I was overcome with emotion was when I heard Kabir and Meera in Geeta’s voice.In ‘Jogan’ Geeta’s voice was ethereal, glowing with the touch of the divine, with a mystical spiritual force.
‘Main to Giridhar ke ghar jaaoon
Giridhar mharo sacho preetam
Dekhat roop lubhaooon…’
Her singing was a revelation of the sweetness of love and worship.The eternal love of Meera and Krishna…without him there was not a moment of peace for her:
‘Meri unki preet purani
Un bin kal na paoon…
Main to Giridhar ke ghar jaaoon…’
Geeta had submerged herself in Meera’s ‘sagun’ worship.With equal ease and devotion she sang Kabir’s mystical ‘nirgun’ song:
‘Suney mandir, suney mandir diya jalake
Asan se mat dol re, tohe piya milenge…’
Singing these lines, she created an illusion of the forlorn emptiness of an ancient, vast, cavernous, deserted temple.Bulo C.Rani’s mastery of his craft is shown in his use of not just the sitar but the veena too, as accompaniment.The strings of the sitar dance softly in ‘Main to giridhar ke ghar jaaoon’; in ‘Mat ja, mat ja…’ their solemn resonance creates an atmosphere of frightening silence, of a great tragedy which has just happened before our very eyes. The heart-rending echoes of Geeta’s ‘Jogi’ would pierce the soul, bring tears to the eye.
‘Prem-bhakti ko panth hi nyaaro, humko gail bata ja
Jogi, humko gail bata ja
Chandan ki main chita rachaoon, apne haath jala ja
Mat ja, mat ja, jogi, paon padoon main tore’
This was the destiny of ‘prem-bhakti’! ‘I’ve burnt to ashes. At least anoint yourself with my ash before leaving.’ Those pleas were to fall on deaf ears.He would not remain.Neither did Geeta.
Nargis starred in ‘Jogan’ and Madhubala in ‘Sangdil’.She was a ‘Devdasi’ forbidden to marry.But the suffering, besotted youth in both films was the same – Dilip Kumar. He ‘lived’ both the roles. In ‘Sangdil’ as in ‘Jogan’, the Devdasi sang in Geeta’s voice:
‘Darshan pyaasi aai dasi, jagmag deep jalaye…’
‘Darshan pyasi’ Geeta, in ‘Pyaasa’ thirsts, at a spiritual level, for the embrace of her beloved:
‘Aaj sajan mohe ang lagalo, janam safal ho jaaye
Hriday ki peeda, deh ki agni, sab sheetal ho jaaye…’
Again and again I wonder: Which was the real Geeta? The yogini in white, ektaari(a single-stringed instrument) in hand, completely immersed in devotion, or, the half-naked seductive, intoxicating vamp? The Geeta who introduces herself as ‘Mera naam Chin Chin Chu’ or the one singing ‘Jai Jagdish Hare’? The one who sings ‘Tora manwa kyon ghabraye re, lakh deen dukhiyaare praani jag mein mukti paaye Ramji ke dwar se’ to reassure the frightened, disturbed mortal standing at the temple door, or the Geeta encouraging him to write his destiny with his own hands: ‘Tadbeer se bigdi hui taqdeer bana le, apne pe bharosa hai to ye daav laga le’?


To be continued.

It had been over a year since my DVD player went on strike. It was an old model, a Pioneer DV626 I'd purchased around 1998. How ancient, even antiquated, it was can be gauged from the fact that it couldn't play mp3s! No DVD player could, in those Dark Ages.But it was absolutely wonderful at its job, with top-notch audio and video reproduction. But in early 2005 it started acting up and by mid-2005, whatever disc I inserted into it, DVD, VCD,audio CD, scratched, in good condition or virginal, fresh from the box,it would, with total disinterest, display "NO DISC".Extending Adam Smith's "laissez faire" philosophy to consumer electronics, I ignored both it and the family's howls of protest, in the belief that it would heal itself.

A full year of electronic (and fiscal) conservatism down the line, the sleeping dog (in this case, DVD player) continued its impersonation of Rip van Winkle.My better half, and our teen-aged collaboration no longer howled but subsided into regular nagging. It was when the wife threatened to supplement the nagging with denial of privileges ( Stop snigerring, it was food I meant.) that I decided to take a more activist approach. Picking up the old, unco-operative box ( Cool down,ladies. I said box, not hag.) I took it to a Sales & Service Centre. "Can I help you, Sir?", a young shop assistant said in a tone of voice which clearly belied the words. Having been forced to suspend his tête-a-tête with sweet young co-worker to attend to me hadn't done his mood much good. "Could you repair this DVD player, please?", I asked. Learning that I only needed my player repaired and wasn't interested in purchasing anything did nothing to cheer him up. I left my player with him and he promised to ring me up in a couple of days. To his credit he kept his word. Two days later he called me up to inform me that the estimate for repairs was Rs.3500/-. Considering that new players were available on the market from Rs.1800/- onwards, this seemed to me to be a bit steep and I told him so. Not surprisingly, he agreed with me and promptly started his sales pitch. I went back to the shop, took my player back to my bosom, looked at the few models they had for sale, and left. The family lost no time in moving in for the kill. "Enough is enough" was the refrain. I was given a deadline by which a replacement had to be purchased. Or else!
The next day I set out on my quest. I walked into a nearby consumer electronics store. "Can I help you, Sir?" a PYT asked in dulcet tones. Inwardly cursing myself for having worn my holiday worst, I put on my best smile and said that I was interested in purchasing a DVD player. She beckoned to an underling and said, "Show Uncle the DVD section." I came down to earth with a thud. "These are the DVD players, Sir", the assistant said, gesturing vaguely towards the rear of the store. "Could you show me,please? And I'd like some details, some specifications." "The prices are mentioned on each player", he replied. I gestured towards the nearest one."Tell me something about this one." Pat came the reply,"It plays DVDs, Sir." "Wow, and I thought it makes coffee and vacuums the room!" I nearly said but restrained myself. "Does it play anything else?" "DVDs, VCDs, MP3, everything.", he recited like a waiter in an Udipi restaurant. "Which DVD formats does it support?", I asked. A simple enough question to someone trying to sell DVD players, you'd think. It turned out not to be so.The bored and supercilious expression on his face faded, to be replaced by a puzzled look that clearly spelled "Duh". "Formats", I repeated, continuing my attack. "It plays MP3s, Sir", he finally replied with a determined, "Put that in your pipe and smoke it!" look on his face. It was a challenge I was unequal to and, thanking him with as much politeness as I could muster, I left. The story repeated itself with minor variations at the second, third and fourth shops I visited.At the fifth a tie-bedecked pip-squeak condescendingly informed me that they only sold Home Theatre systems and not stand-alone DVD players. He then proceeded to look at me from head to toe with undisguised contempt and his face said clearly what he didn't put into words - that his shop was not for cheapskates like me. At that stage I was on the point of throwing in the towel. Only the thought of the fate which awaited me at home if I returned empty-handed kept me going. The next shop proved itself a shade better. "Formats"? was confidently met with Dolby Digital, DTS, MP3,WMA,Divx, DVD, DVD-R, DVD-RW, DVD+R, DVD+RW. He'd mixed up hardware, software and encoding but I'd at least got the information I was looking for. Heaving a sigh of relief I brought out my next question - "Does it have optical output or co-axial or both?" Pat came the answer,"You've to connect it to your amplifier, Sir." I clenched my teeth, slowly counted to ten and asked,"Yes, but with what?". "With a wire, Sir", he said with the air of a long-suffering teacher trying to drill something into the head of a particularly obtuse student. Chastened,I moved on to shop number seven with somewhat better results.The salesman there seemed to understand. "Just a minute, Sir, I'll check." He then proceeded to turn the display piece around and peered at the connections at the rear. Co-axial was the answer. Final question ( As a matter of fact,I'd listed many more but decided not to press my luck too far.): Is it region-free? A correct answer here and my travails were over. 'Twas not to be. "Compatible with HDTV? Region-free? Er..What's that?" Evidently I hadn't quite finished paying for my past sins.The fates weren't done with me yet. It was at shop number thirteen that I finally attained moksha (salvation). All the earlier questions were answered. Some confidently, some after consultations, hesitantly, but they were answered. "HDMI?" "Of course." Region-free?" "It's region-coded, Sir, but we'll unlock it for you before delivery.In fact we can do it for you right away. Would you like to buy it, Sir?" Sir would. He brought up a boxed piece for me, opened and connected it, and used the remote control to make it region-free. I asked for the code in case it got region locked again by accident, a very real possibility in a household with a remote-happy teenager. "Sorry, Sir, we can't tell you that. It's confidential." I got the impression that I was asking for the keys to the Treasury! "But what if it locks up again?", I pleaded with him. To no avail. He was unmoved, unbending only enough to say,"Call us if that ever happens.We'll unlock it for you again." Weary in spirit and body, I bought it, came home, Googled for the hack and found it in three minutes. I've now connected the player, slipped in one of my favourite movies, fixed myself a long, strong drink, kicked off my slippers, and put my sore, aching feet up. Please do not disturb!

The mask is off.Officially. Manmohan Singh has now gone public with what had so far only been suspected by many of us Indians. I quote,

We Hindus are back to being second-class citizens in our own country, The minorities (read Muslims) have priority in everything - the country's resources, education, wealth, opportunities - everything. If any of us had dared to say this aloud before yesterday, the pseudo-secularists would have shouted him down. There would have been howls of protests from the Left and the Congress and the person who said it would have been labelled immediately as a "rabid Hindu, fascist, fanatic, communalist, obscurantist, etc. etc." And these are only the printable names he would have been called. But the cat is now out of the bag. The Prime Minister of India, no less, the Honourable Manmohan Singh,has declared in a public speech that the minorities take priority. Period.At one stroke fifty-nine years of independence have come to nought and we Hindus are back to being what we were for a thousand years before 1947 - inconsequential slaves about whom the rulers do not care two hoots. We are back to the days of Aurangzeb and the hated 'jizia' tax. Once again, to be born a Hindu in India is a crime.


Yet again, it is our own fault. We elected a government where the power behind the throne is a Catholic foreigner, the figurehead Prime Minister is a Sikh and the President, a Muslim. We were gullible enough to believe that this was a symbol of our 'tolerance', our 'secularism', our 'assimilative culture'. We proved that we have learnt nothing from the multiple Muslim invasions of our land, from centuries of Muslim and British rule, from Mir Jaffar and Plassey. We continued to bury our heads in the sand. Like the Bourbons, we have learnt nothing and forgotten nothing.We continued to be our own worst enemies, to fiddle while our hard-won independence was undermined. It is our somnolence, our refusal to stand up for our rights, our pusillanimity that has emboldened Mr.Manmohan Singh to go public with his government's so far hidden anti-majority agenda.
The response to this most outrageous of statements by the Prime Minister has been even more shocking. The television news channels, otherwise always on the hunt for 'Breaking news', have barely mentioned it in passing, devoting far more time to the latest film gossip. The newspaper I read,DNA, had a front page headline and article about how the corporate world is unable to find good CEOs. Manmohan's missile was hidden away on page 7. Blink and you'll miss it.The channels have no time for serious issues and are slaves to TRPs.The print media is in the hands of Leftists and government toadies.The internet and the blogosphere is probably our last chance. Let us at least raise our voices of protest here. Before they are silenced forever.

Translated from ‘Geet-Yatree’ by the late Shri Madhav Moholkar. The responsibility for any errors in translation is entirely mine.



I saw and heard Geeta for the last time on the night of ‘Yaad-e-Shakeel’.I little imagined then that it was to be her final concert in my life. I’d previously heard her sing in 4-5 programmes. She always sang with great feeling, whether it was a heart-rending song or a flighty, light-hearted one. At Yaad-e-Shakeel, apart from Geeta many others sang - Rafi, Mukesh, Mahendra Kapoor, Ravi, Chandru... But the queen of the night was, undoubtedly, Lata.Everyone’s attention was centred on her. Most of the audience was eager to hear her sing. On the stage, everyone danced attendance on her. When she was to sing the musicians would be alert, the music director would stand and conduct the orchestra. She’d come and sing like an empress. For Geeta there was no orchestra, no one on stage bustling about, no thunderous welcoming applause. She slowly walked onto the stage, pulled up a harmonium and started to sing. Slightly disarranged hair, sad face, eyes filled with pathos - she’d intermittently shut them while singing - and that huge Shanmukhanand Hall filled with her extra-ordinary, sad voice:

'Aankhon mein noor, dil mein ujale nahin rahein
jalwe wohi hain, dekhnewale nahin rahein '

Geeta poured her soul into the song but I wonder how many hearts that non-film ghazal of Shakeel’s touched that night. For there were no cries of ‘Once more’ as there had been for Lata and Rafi.Looking at her, she didn’t seem to be singing for anyone but herself. In the same pathos-laden voice and with eyes shut, she started singing another one of Shakeel’s songs:
'Koi door se awaaz de, chale aao..., chale aao...’


For a second, it didn’t seem to be a human voice at all. It was the cry of a tormented soul roaming the skies. Geeta never could sing with her throat. It was her soul that sang. Those words coming from the depths of the unknown: ‘Chale aao...chale aao...’
Who was calling her from afar?
After that I never saw her again. But one night, having dozed off while lying in the dark listening to the radio, I woke up with a start. The radio was still playing and in the dark I could hear Geeta sing:

'Koi chupke se aake, sapne sulake, mujhko jagake bole
ke main aa raha hoon...’

It’d been ages since I’d heard a new song of Geeta’s.It felt as if my past had returned. Perhaps the hope that Geeta was living on would be fulfilled after all. Who could say? Hadn’t a miracle happened in Kishore Kumar’s case.Geeta had said: Everyone ran after Kishore Kumar once two of his songs from Aradhana became hits, otherwise it was only Burmandada (S.D.) who had any time for him? If two of my songs become hits, it might be the same with me.
It was not to be. Miracles don’t happen in everyone’s life. One day, with great determination, she broke all the bonds, not just to the film world but to the real one as well. Leaving behind for us:
'Ek din hamko yaad karoge...’
The same emotive voice...I was running to school one hot and sunny morning. I’d barely reached McConkey Chowk when, from behind, came the words:
'Tadpoge, fariyaad karoge,
ek din hamko yaad karoge...’
I quietly turned back and went and stood outside Usmania restaurant. The first time I received a caning from the Headmaster for being late to school was for Geeta Roy. Before classes commenced, we’d shut the classroom doors and sing in chorus the songs of those days...'Ek din hamko yaad karoge’.No one who sang in that chorus will have forgotten Geeta in the hurly-burly of dreary, routine existence. To forget her is to forget one’s own past, to forget oneself. Had I known she would depart so suddenly, I’d have reminded her of her song from Savera:

'Aankhon se door jaake bhi dil se na jaane paoge
tum hi kaho karenge kya yaad jo hamko aaoge’

Geeta didn’t have to plead with anyone to get a chance to sing in films. Her magical voice brought the film world to her doorstep. One day as she was singing in her house, a noted music director of that time, Shri Hanuman Prasad was walking down that street. Hearing her voice, he could go no further. He turned back and found the house the song was emanating from. A slim, dark girl was sitting with her back to the door, singing, lost to the world. Impressed, Hanuman Prasad took her father’s permission to use Geeta as a playback singer - and Geeta sang her first song in ‘Bhakt Prahlad’ under his baton.
The (then) young music director S.D.Burman, saw indications of his future success in that voice. His film ‘Shikari’ had had good songs but they hadn’t become as popular as Naushad’s songs from ‘Ratan’.He was convinced that if this 15-16 year old girl was to sing for him, his songs would be hits. So, brushing aside the established singers of the era like Shamshad, Zohra, Rajkumari, & Ameerbai, he insisted on using Geeta’s voice for ‘Do Bhai’, going to the extent of fighting with Filmistan’s Rai Bahadur Chunilal, to do so. His confidence turned out to be fully justified. Geeta brought him unprecedented success. Her songs were on everyone’s lips through the length and breadth of Hindustan:

'Mera sundar sapna beet gaya...
main prem mein sab kuch haar gayee, bedard zamana jeet gaya...
Mera sundar sapna beet gaya...’

A friend who was studying in a college in Lucknow at that time said that in those days even the ‘kothas’ of the ‘tawaifs’ would resonate with ‘Mera sundar sapna beet gaya...’ rather than the usual thumris and ghazals.
I liked a song of Rafi’s from ‘Do Bhai’: ‘Duniya mein meri aaj andhera hi andhera...Bhagwan kahaan hai meri kismatka sitara...’ But Geeta’s were the songs to achieve great popularity - ‘Ek din hamko yaad karoge’, ‘Hamein chhod piya kis des gaye, piya lautke aana bhool gaye’, and ‘Mera sundar sapna beet gya’.Her incorrect short enunciation of the long ‘bhoo’ in ‘piya laut ke aana bhool gaye’ jarred, but, the prolonged ‘bee’ in ‘Mera sundar sapna beet gaya’ conveyed effectively and with great feeling the sadness, the distress at the fact that everything was ended,finished, , that it would never return.”Sapna toot gaya’ was common in film songs, but ‘sapna beet gaya’ had never been heard before or since. I was used to reading ‘din beet gaya’ but, even at that young age, I could appreciate the poetry in ‘sapna beet gaya’.The lyricist was Raja Mehdi Ali Khan, who’d come to Mumbai to become an actor, had even essayed a role in ‘Aath Din’. But from ‘Do Bhai’ onwards he came to the fore as a lyricist. His touching verse must be given its due share of credit for the success of the music of ‘Do Bhai’ along with S.D.Burman’s music and Geeta’s singing.
Ghulam Haider was the music director of the Dilip Kumar-Kamini Kaushal film ‘Shaheed’ in which Lalita Deolkar had sung ‘Bachpan ki yaad dheere dheere pyar ban gayee’, and Surinder Kaur had sung ‘Badnaam na ho jaye mohabbat ka fasana’, Hum tumko na payenge, tum humko na paoge’, and ‘Taqdeer ki aandhi aisi chali, kashti se kinara chhoot gaya’. But it was in Geeta’s voice that Raja Mehdi Ali Khan’s words found true expression:

‘Main do din ki mehmaan piya
mohe chhod chale hain pran piya, pranpiya
aaya gham ka ek toofan piya, pranpiya
hai deepak banker kaanp rahe hain pran hamare
main to bisaroon balma, mera dil na bisare…’

To watch a dying Kamini Kaushal sing ‘hai deepak banker kaanp rahe hain pran hamare…’ in Geeta’s helpless tone was an agonising experience. She looks down from the balcony (or window?) at the funeral procession of her lover, a freedom-fighter who has given his life for the country, and collapses. Chandramohan was last seen in this film. If memory serves me right, Geeta also sang in Ghulam Haider’s ‘Majboor’. That film had one of Lata’s earliest songs ‘Ab darneki koi baat nahin, angrezi chhora chala gaya…’. I vaguely remember some discrete lines of Geeta’s songs – ‘meri bagiya mein phool khile’, ‘jab nain se nain mile’, ‘main to rah gayee aaj akeli re…’
Apart from Ghulam Haider, among the earlier generation of music directors, Geeta also sang in Shyamsundar’s ‘Actress’, which starred Rehana and Shyam.Rehana later went to Pakistan and the handsome Shyam fell from a horse while shooting for ‘Shabistan’ and died. I remember three songs from ‘Actress’ – First Rafi’s ‘Ai dil meri aahon mein itna to asar aaye, jab aankh khule unki tasveer nazar aaye’, second, the Rafi-Shamshad duet ‘Dheere dheere bol, bol mohabbatwale bol’, and third, the Shamshad –Geeta duet

‘Aankhon aankhon mein dil se dil ki baatein keh gaye…’
Hum tadapte hain ke armaan dil ke dil mein rah gaye…’

Shamshad’s, the joyful voice of a woman whose eyes have conveyed her love, while Geeta’s had all the pathos of one whose feelings remained unsaid.
Khemchand Prakash’s ‘Jaanpehchaan’ had songs by Geeta, Talat and Shankar Dasgupta. I saw that film many times.Not just the songs, even the background music of ‘Jaanpehchaan’ was wonderful.The film itself, however, was over-romantic, unrealistic, and filled with inconsistencies.But I was at an age when any reason would suffice to see a film over and over again – a song, a particular scene, dialogues, background music, dances…Talat-Geeta’s sweet duet was on my lips for a long time:

'Armaanbhare dil ki lagan tere liye hain
Nagari mere jeevan ki sajan tere liye hai…
Loota hai mere dil ne mohabbat ka khazana
Jo teri kahani hai wohi mera fasana
Ye phool, ye khushboo, ye chaman tere liye hai…
Ye chand, ye dharti, ye gagan tere liye hai…'

To be continued...