“Aaye bunthun ke shehr-e-khamooshaan mein woh
Qabr dekhi jo meri to kehne lage
Aray aaj itni to iski taraqqi hui
Ek beghar ne accha sa ghar le liya”
Roughly translated…
“Now the town folk have arrived well dressed and in silence
Having seen my grave, they started saying
That finally, I have reached some success
The homeless person finally has found a good home”
“Yeh bhi andaz-e-guftagu hai koi
Jab karo dil dukha ke baat karo
Hum tadapte rahenge yahan raat bhar
Tum to aaraam ki neend so jaaoge”
“What style of conversation is it that you have
That brings suffering to my heart whenever I hear you talk
I will toss restlessly thru the night here
And of course you will sleep restfully over there.”
“Kafan mein khud ko chhupa liya hai
Ke tujh ko parde ki ho na zehmat
Naqaab apne liye banakar
Hijaab tera utha raha hoon”
Sung by Nusrat. Incredible words from the pen of Allama Muhammad Iqbal.
Roughly translated…
“I have hidden myself in my shroud
So you don’t have to take the trouble of putting on your veil
By making a veil for my own self,
I am lifting your veil”
It was December. The exact year escapes me. But it was mid seventies. Dad had taken the whole family to visit my mom’s elder sister. I remember getting off the train in a nondescript station called Mankundu and then taking a rickshaw to my aunt’s place in Chandannagar. That evening, uncle showed off his newly acquired gramaphone player (those LP players with vinyl discs). I remember being absolutely fascinated by the player.
This is the first song I ever heard in a gramophone player.
“Dagor dagor chokhey keno kajol diley
Amon dagor dagor chokhey keno kajol diley
Kalo oi chokhta thekeo kajol kalo ki
Bolo kalo oi chokhta thekeo kajol kalo ki?
Dekhatam o mukh haatey aayna peley
Jekhaney polash koli saara bochhor phhotey
laabh ki rong laagie omon raanga thhotey
palash-er- koli-r cheye-o o rong raanga ki?
Bolo palash-er- koli-r cheye-o o rong raanga ki?
Dekhatam o mukh haatey aayna peley”
To understand the lyrics, we need to know that “polash” is a very bright red flower found in the area where I come from in India (Bengal) and “kajol” is collyrium – also called “kohl” that is usually applied under the eyes by girls where I come from as a beauty thing.
Roughly translated…
Why did you put “kohl” on those wide eyes
Oh! Why did you put “kohl” on those wide eyes
Is kohl really any deeper than your dark eyes
Tell me, is kohl really any deeper than your dark eyes?
I would have shown you myself, had I had a mirror with me.
Where “polash” blooms all year around
What is the point in putting red color in those lips
Is the red of an young “polash” bud any deeper than that of your lips
Tell me, is the red of an young “polash” bud any deeper than that of your lips?
I would have shown you myself, had I had a mirror with me.
Every Bengali kid that grew up in the 70s and 80s in Bengal would have grown up on a healthy diet of folk songs. Folk songs – irrespective of country – tend to have catchy tunes and is usually about some down to earth topic. Tonight’s song of the evening was “Amar Gosai Re Ni Dekhcho Khajur Gachhtalay” by the unforgettable Amar Pal. Took me back to the days of elementary school when All India Radio Kolkata used to carry 2 folks songs everyday between 6:50am and 7:00am. I used to listen to them invariably while packing up my school bag or tying my shoelaces. Moment the folks songs got over, I had to run for the school bus that would show up at 7:10am.
This song is a somewhat funny take on the life of a normal street cat.
“Jokhon neshay amar rasta toley
Keu amake maatal bole
Omni soja chole jai dekhiye
Bhabchho jaa ta noito ami
Jokhon tumi amay matal bolo
Dhonno je hoy she maatlami
Dhonno ami dhonno he
Matal tomar jonno je”
Under the influence, when I stagger
And somebody calls me out as a drunkard
I start walking the straight line
To prove them that they are wrong.
But when you call me a drunkard
Blessed becomes my inebriation
Blessed I be, virtuous I be,
Drunkard, all due to you!
