From “Awara hoon” to “Joota hai Japani”, world still hums his songs

For decades, “Awara hoon” from the film Awara, 1951, was a passport to warmth for any Indian visiting the USSR, Turkey, Egypt, China and parts of Africa. The best-selling track even finds mention in dissident Soviet writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s novel, Cancer Ward (1966). And “Mera joota hai Japani” (film: Shree 420, 1955) makes appearances in films as diverse as Mississippi Masala (1991) and Deadpool (2016). The lyrics of Shailendra, whose birth centenary falls today – August 30 – could remarkably create the universal from the local and the personal. medium nocaption65146424Humble beginningsShailendra’s life was his poetry’s wellspring. Born on August 30, 1923, His roots lay in Dhuspur village near Bihar’s Arrah town. But he was born in Rawalpindi (now in Pakistan), where his father worked as a contractor. When his father fell ill, the family fell on hard times and shifted to Mathura (Uttar Pradesh) where they would subsist on “a meal a day and a beedi at night,” says the preface of Andar Ki Aag (2013), a book on his previously unpublished poems.The experience finds expression in the slum dweller song of the film Shree 420, “Bhookh ne hai bade pyaar se pala” (Hunger raised me with love). Only someone who had experienced hunger could dream of roti (bread) as he does in Ujala (1959): “Chulha hai thanda bada aur pet mein aag hai / Garma garam roti kitna hasi khwab hai: (The hearth is cold and my stomach rages with hunger / To dream of bread is so beautiful). The book also talks about Shailendra’s real name (Shankardas Rao), his Dalit background and the caste slurs he faced playing hockey (“Ab yeh log bhi khel khelenge” or Now even these people will play the game) making him give up the sport.Writer Sheoraj Singh Bechain says that during the Progressive Artistes era in the 1940s, many writers wrote on the oppressed. “But as a Dalit, Shailendra had a first-hand experience of misery and caste discrimination. Distress isn’t just economic but also social and cultural,” says Bechain, a Dalit, and author of the acclaimed biography, Mera Bachpan Mere Kandhon Par. medium103200864Shailendra left Mathura for Bombay (now Mumbai) where he worked in the railways and became part of the Left-cultural forum ,Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA). The story of actor Raj Kapoor being impressed by his poem “Jalta Hai Punjab”, asking him to write in his films, Shailendra’s initial reluctance, and then later writing the last two songs of Barsaat (1949) because he needed the money during the birth of his son has been written before. “For a sum of Rs 500, Kapoor had Shailendra write two Barsaat (1949) superhits: “Barsaat mein humse milein tum sajan” and “Patli qamar hai,” the article says.In time, he would become a regular in films of Kapoor and Bimal Roy; his lyrics seamlessly fitting into their socially-conscious narratives. medium103200989Writing from experienceA running thread in Shailendra’s celluloid verse is his empathy with the disadvantaged. “Staying within the matrix of the film’s script and the character’s needs, he commented on society and politics of the times. And he spoke up for the last human who’s uncared for by the government, the society and everyone else,” says radio personality Yunus Khan, who is writing a book analysing Shailendra’s poetry.Lyricist Raj Shekhar (Tanu Weds Manu) adds to the view saying while many lyricists wrote emphatically about the marginalised, one can see a distance between the writer and those being written about. “But when you listen to Shailendra, you feel that distance has been dissolved. He seems to be one of them. And that’s because he is writing from lived-in experience,” he says.In times when poets were often prisoners of pompous words that evaded ordinary people, Shailendra was accessible even to the rural illiterate. And yet as the late songwriter Dev Kohli once said, “Like the dohas [couplet] that Kabir wrote, he could encapsulate a world in a few words.” medium103201060“Sajan re jhoot mat bolo Khuda ke paas jana hai” (film: Teesri Kasam, 1966) is simple yet profound.That he could also write, “Chahe koi mujhe junglee kahe” (film: Junglee, 1961) or the fun tracks of Half-Ticket (1962) is a tribute to his versatility.Shailendra produced Teesri Kasam. The Basu Bhattacharya-directed film, now hailed as a classic, flopped then. The poet passed away the same year – 1966. He was only 43 at the time. Since then the film’s reputation has grown. This reporter was witness to a housefull board outside Ranchi’s Ratan Talkies when the film was re-released in the early 1980s. medium103201155But even today much of his poetry remains quotable and relevant, none more than the line from Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai (1960): “Mil jul ke raho aur pyaar karo, ek cheez yahi jo rehti hai” (Stay together in harmony, love each other, this is all that lives in the end). As Bechain says, “His poetry rises above caste and religion, and seeks to establish a bond between humans.”