Collage in a CD

Kitne Ghayil hain,
Kitne Bismil hain,
Is khudaii mein,
Ek Tu kya hai...

Aye dil-e-naadan...

Lata Mangeshkar, Ghulam Mohammed, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Kaifi Azmi, Rajkumar, Naushad, Mohammed Rafi, Kaif Bhopali, Parveen Sultana, Kamal Amrohi, Vani Jairam, Jan Nisar Akhtar, Khaiyyaam, Jagjit Kaur, Nida Fazli, Mahendra Kapoor, Bhupinder.

This is the list of artists on the back cover of the Pakeezah and Razia Sultan music CD. Amazing is'nt it. So much talent went just into the music of these two great movies.

And the songs themselves - ek se badhkar ek - Inhi Logon Ne, Chalte Chalte, Nazariya Ki Mari, Chalo Dildar Chalo, Thare Rahiyo, Kaun gali gayo shyaam, Mausam hai Ashikana, Teer-e-Nazar Dekhenge, Aye Dil-e-Naadan, Aayi Zanjeer Ki Jhankaar, Hariyala Banna Aaya re, Jalta Hai Badan, Aye Khuda Shukr Tera..

How did they make each of these songs? Maybe the lyricist re-discoverd some old poem, reshaped it to suit the mood? Maybe the music director drew inspiration from the crickets on a sleepless night? Maybe the singer, the lyricist, the music director, sat together, struggling, on a hot summer afternoon hankering after the muse, or maybe they sat relaxed on a breezy monsoon evening, whisky glasses in hand, knowing she would come to them... For some artist some song would be their best work, work they knew they would not be able to match in a hurry, work they would be remembered by in Hindi film music, for some other artist it would be another easy day at the office...

The common factor in both these movies is of course writer-director Kamal Amrohi, in the case of Pakeezah, also the producer. Hats off to him for so painstakingly collecting the bits and pieces of the musical parts of his two great collages.

I want to write

I want to write. I do so want to write. I am writing this post not so much because I want to say something but because I want to write something. Every day I remind myself that I have'nt written anything in a while. I play back in my mind the delicious thrill of writing a poem - I try to rouse my creativity. But no poems strike me at breakfast these days.

And not writing is making it difficult to read. Can't stand to see those great authors play with words like a child with beach sand. Am making do with re-reading thrillers known more for the plot than for the language. Jealous of appreciating new ideas from another person, while I wait for my own.