Humko Tho Yara

Finally another video. I got kind of disheartened for a while, as it seemed that YouTube was removing all my clips... maybe there's another video site I can use, but hopefully this clip will stay up for now.

Here's a twisted variation on a fairly standard Bollywood trope - the romantic romp through the countryside. This is a staple of Bollywood films - somehow the lovers always find a way to wander out into the picturesque hills and meadows for a syrupy romantic ballad. In this song, "Humko Tho Yara", from the 1977 movie Hum Kisise Kum Naheen, there's a twist - you'll notice the disturbingly large bottle of whisky revealed as Kaajal Kiran runs off after the silly bit of dialog with Rishi Kapoor. I can only guess that the presence of alcohol is the rationalization for the wild picaresque that follows.

First Rishi engages in a bit of passive-aggressive horseplay, using his tie to pretend to strangle himself, and, when that fails to elicit sufficient sympathy, playfully whipping his partner with it. Charming, eh? But Kaajal escapes and is soon causing all kinds of mayhem, from disrupting a bicycle race to disrupting calisthenics exercises - complete with an absurd toreador interlude with sped-up footage of a brahma bull.

This is what happens when you let a sweet-talking rogue get you drunk, kids. If you make it to my Bollywood night next weekend at the Argus Lounge, keep that in mind in your dealings with Visa, the bartender.

Chura Liya Hai

So I just had my first "Bollywood Night" where I played some Bollywood music and videos at a local bar. The set went pretty well despite my nervousness, and I connected with one true fan of vintage Bollywood movies, so all told I think it was a success. I'll be doing this again in a few weeks - on May 18th, a little later, from 9-11 PM. Hopefully that'll mean a slightly bigger crowd - it was pretty empty today at 7 PM but picked up from 8 to 9.

Anyway, here's one of my favorite songs, Chura Liya Hai, from the 1973 film Yaadon Ki Baaraat. It features the always lovely Zeenat Aman and lots of very unconvincing mock guitar playing. There's one point about four minutes in where I swear it looks like the guy is about to clock her with the guitar.

It's interesting, with Bollywood songs, to enjoy them divorced from their context in the film - I feel that this is perhaps something that is much more pronounced for a Westerner, who may have much easier access to compilations of Bollywood music than to the actual films. I first heard this song on an excellent compilation called Bollywood Funk, and when I listened to it I never imagined anything quite like this video. I think the image in my mind's eye was much racier - a smoky bar, a scantily clad singer - but perhaps that's the suggestive undercurrent that this movie has to tread around.

Incidentally, this song also has the personal distinction of being the only Bollywood song I've ever attempted in Karaoke form. I'm sure my pronunciation was horrible, but as my audience consisted of middle-aged Santa Cruz bowling alley patrons, I think that was far outweighed by the effect of my sheer joy in performing this song, which I confess was considerable. I hope one day to revisit the potential of Bollywood Karaoke... perhaps in the future I'll have the foresight to document it here.

Oh, and here is a translation of the lyrics:

FEMALE:
You have already stolen my heart
Do not steal glances
Having changed my life
Do not change a bit, sweetheart
Oh, you took my heart, oh my heart
Oh, taking my heart don't humor me
You have already stolen my heart
Do not steal glances
Having changed my life
Do not change a bit, sweetheart

Becoming spring I will come sometime in your world
May this day not pass in just this wish
You are mine, you are mine
Today go making this promise
You have stolen
You have already stolen my heart
Do not steal glances
Having changed my life
Do not change a bit, sweetheart

MALE:
Oh, I will decorate your body's branch
I will give my heart's blood to your lovely red lips
I will decorate your body's branch
I will give my heart's blood to your lovely red lips
What faithfulness is, to this world
One day I will show them madly
You have stolen
You have already stolen my heart
Do not steal glances
Having changed my life
Do not change a bit, sweetheart
Oh, you took my heart, oh my heart
Oh, taking my heart don't humor me
You have already stolen my heart
Do not steal glances

Pyar Zindagi Hai

This is one of the first Bollywood songs I ever heard. It's from the 1978 movie Muqaddar Ka Sikander, and I found it on an excellent Bollywood compilation CD called "Bollywood Funk". The funky guitars, synths, gorgeously distorted vocals, and disco beat made it a quick favorite, so later, when I started watching Bollywood films, I decided to track down this movie to see how the song was staged. As funky as the song is, I definitely wasn't prepared for what I saw.

I've included a little bit of the scene preceding the song so that you can see how dramatic the transition is. Right off the bat, there's some amusing dialogue in English: "Hey man, you dig this sort of music? You like it? Then why don't you come and join Lover’s Paradise." Apparently, paradise for lovers involves a ridiculous number of candles (including one gigantic one), lots of glowing hearts, and mirrors in way more places than you'd think would be healthy. All the candles remind me of some kind of Catholic church—in the culturally stereotyped world of Bollywood, this means it's perfect for a den of sin. Just to make the connection a little clearer, we have a lecherous old white guy trying to grab the singer (Rekha), eliciting a truly off-putting rhythmic giggle.

If you're wondering about the constant cuts to Amitabh Bachchan looking somewhere between stoned and worried, basically, the couple that walked into the club ahead of him are his best friend and the woman he loves (sporting some bad-ass Princess Leia curls). It's a good thing the set is covered with mirrors, because it makes a number of the shots of Bachchan very slowly and angrily drinking much more interesting. Well, that and his very provocatively displayed chest hair.

After some explosive lightning intercuts and an odd dance routine involving a lot of bouncing, Bachchan decides it's time to play the "No real person could drink whiskey this quickly" game, feeding the rage until he smashes the bottle against—what else?—a mirror.

Pal Bhar Ke Liye

Hema Malini really needs to get in touch with a contractor who can help her out with her home's ridiculous profusion of windows. Maybe she can start a support group with the current occupants of Philip Johnson's Glass House. By my count, she's pursued by Dev Anand through 15 different windows in this clip from the 1970 movie Johny Mera Naam. (Yes, they spell "Johny" with one N. No, I have no idea why.)

The actual plot of this movie involves some convoluted twists relating to whether Johny (Dev Anand) is a gangster or a police agent, but the focus of this song is squarely on the charm and joy of a good old-fashioned romantic stalking. You don't see this happen quite as much in more contemporary Bollywood films, but apparently, in the '60s and '70s, stalking was the socially acceptable, logical way for your leading man to woo the leading lady. Remember fellas, No means Yes! So, Dev Anand proceeds at a brisk clip of 5 window-privacy-invasions per minute, taking a brief detour through the conveniently placed Wall of Inexplicable Circular Holes. If the setup here isn't creepy enough for you yet, let me just mention the 26 year age difference between the protagonists. And then shudder.

Finally, Hema Malini gives up her stalker abatement program after falling into the bathtub and pounding on the security window as if to say, "Quit it, you idiot, I just fractured my tailbone!" Naturally, Dev Anand ignores her and continues singing. Incensed, she grabs a pole and decides to finally bring some sanity to this whole situation by impaling the guy. But for some reason (his ridiculous schoolboy outfit?), she takes pity on him and decides that heck, maybe she does love him after all. No surprise there - in all the many romantic stalking scenes I've seen in Bollywood movies (there are plenty of great ones that I'll be posting at some point), I can't recall a single one where the heroine's feeling for the hero isn't warmed significantly.

I found a great forum where people are contributing translations of Bollywood lyrics, and oddly enough, this song has only one reference to windows:

Standing at the window...
Accept the saint who is standing at the window
Even if it's false

Somehow, he's able to charm her despite repeating this "Even if it's false" line many times throughout the song, and a generally kind of sad tone:

You are the most beautiful out of all the beauties
My face too is not that bad
Sometime do look at me too
Even if it's false

By the way, if you have an odd feeling that you've heard this song before, it might be because it apparently was used in a Simpsons episode.

Dum Maro Dum

In the '70s, Bollywood films began to develop a stronger political consciousness, and take on more pressing conflicts. Earlier Bollywood films had certainly dealt with some amount of politics, but in general they had a simple message of uniting different ethnic and religious groups under Indian nationalism, as in the song "Ganga Meri Ma" (which I'll be posting later).

This clip, however, from the 1971 movie Hare Rama Hare Krishna, represents a rare note of dissatisfaction and anger. The film opens with a lengthy rant by the central character, Prashant, played by Dev Anand, who also wrote, produced, and directed the movie. He laments the international rise of the Hare Krishna movement, and the Western devotees it has attracted, saying, "These people, whose religion is smack, grass, cocaine, LSD - and whose temple is open physical relationship - these people are leading every moment of their lives only for this moment. They are all lost under the influence of intoxication and enjoyment." As it turns out, Prashant's sister Jasbir has fallen in with a commune of Western hippies, is taking drugs to numb the pain of their parents' divorce, and has blocked out all memories of her childhood. In this clip, Prashant discovers Jasbir (played by Zeenat Aman) with a group of stoned hippies (played by real-life Western hippies found on location in Kathmandu). Prashant is the serious-looking guy with the giant collar that the camera keeps zooming in on.

Philip Lutgendorf's Indian cinema site, a great source of information, claims that in the '70s, "street urchins in Indian towns were apt to greet young Western travelers with a mocking rendition of the film's hit title song," specifically the opening line, "dum maro dum," which means "take another toke." Apparently Dev Anand was not alone in his scorn for the Western seekers who flooded India in the '60s and '70s.

I found a translation of the lyrics on a website with a Photoshop spoof of the Kronos Quartet's recent album with Asha Bhosle:

Take a toke
Let the pain be erased
Say all day and night
Hare Krishna, Hare Ram

What has the world given us?
What have we taken from the world?
Why should we care about everyone else?
What has everyone else done for us?

Whether we live or die
We won't fear anyone
This age will not stop us
We'll do whatever we want

Take a toke
Let the pain be erased
Say all day and night
Hare Krishna, Hare Ram

Piya Tu Ab To Aaja (Monica, Oh My Darling!)

This is the first post of my blog, so I might as well give a quick run-down of what's going on here. In short: I am somewhat obsessed with Bollywood movies — especially ones of a particular '60s through '80s vintage. If you're looking for gossip on Shah Rukh Khan or Aishwarya Rai, you're probably not going to find it here. But, if you stay tuned for my weekly updates, I think you'll agree that there's something special about these older movies. I'm not entirely sure what it is, and that's part of the reason I started this blog — I want to try to articulate what it is about these gorgeous, kitschy, strange, fantastic movies that I love.

I'm starting out with one of my favorite clips — a song called "Piya Tu Ab To Aaja (Monica, Oh My Darling!)" from the 1971 film Caravan. In my collecting of Bollywood films and music, I've followed several actors and actresses that I became fascinated with, and one of them is Helen, the central dancer in this clip. She basically knocks the socks off of any other Bollywood dancer, then or now. Her moves are just genius, and the hyperactive energy that she musters is incredible.

When I first saw this clip, I was confused and stunned — by the hysteric dancing, the odd juxtaposition of English and Hindi lyrics, and the giant set with pink flamingos, a human-sized golden bird cage, and a replica of Big Ben that somehow fits into a tiny nightclub. I think that a common outsider reaction to Bollywood is to prize its bizarre and incomprehensible quality — a celebration of the entertainment value of the "what the hell?" absurdity of it all. But as I watched more movies I found that understanding a little bit more about the culture and the context actually made it even more entertaining and enjoyable. So, a few notes about this clip: Helen was not ethnically Indian, but rather French and Burmese, which may explain why she never had a successful leading role in Bollywood films. However, she was unquestionably the most talented dancer in Bollywood over her 3-decade career, and was in high demand for secondary roles and explosive dance sequences. Helen could be sensual and suggestive without ever crossing over into direct provocation — a skirting of restrictions that seems to have been highly prized in '60s and '70s Bollywood, which took pains to respect social mores — and government censors — with regard to displays of sexuality. Notice, for instance, that around 4 minutes in to this clip, when Helen's outer garments are dramatically removed, it is not actually her bare stomach you see — she's wearing a body sock!

Anyway, enough blabbering from me. Enjoy the clip, and come back next week for the next entry.

Update: I posted a translation of the lyrics.