Last week, an event took me back in time. Decades actually - when I was probably around 10 years or so (standard IV at best).
Looking through those Sepia-tinted times, I remember the humble lives we led. Walking to schools, getting a ride on dad's cycle, playing cricket with plastic balls and makeshift bats, and watching Chitrahaar on portable B&W TVs - mostly at a friendly neighbour's house.
For the uninitiated, Chitrahaar was a bouquet of songs that was telecast semi weekly on Wednesdays and Fridays. 6 songs over 30 minutes. This was also where impressionable minds would receive their first lessons in love (not used as a euphemism for birds and bees). Oh that feeling of excitement and mystery surrounding the subject. How could I not be baptised?
Every time that the song "Aa ja aayi Bahar, dil hai bekarar" would show up on Chitrahaar, it would set my heart into motion. Let me justify.
The song portrayed the yearnings of a princess, stepping into adulthood, looking for the love of that elusive prince. Made in 1964, the song was one of the highlights of this film (rest of the film was average). An elaborate synchronised sequence with a host of dancers was choreographed in and around a waterfall. Flower laden coracles with dancing ladies joining the chorus amidst flowing water offered a visual spectacle that would stay with you.
But it was the female lead who hastened my emotional growth. Sadhna looked resplendent as she would lip sync flawlessly to Lata Mangeshkar's song. Her gait, posture, composure and rhythmic sways - all captured meticulously frame by frame. The black dress would create such an effective contrast against her fair skin that you could not take your eyes off the screen. That moment, that very moment - I wanted to marry her.
All this effervescence would be marred by the antics of the male lead Shammi Kapoor - who for some strange reason was to keep stalking her and make it seem all comical. I could never understand why he would want to keep following her all through the dance sequence and keep getting in and out of water. And so it seemed very hypocritical (after they got together) to sing to her -
"Is rang badalti duniya mein, insaan ki niyat theek nahin,
Nikla na karo tum saj dhaj kar, imaan ki niyat theek nahin"
Translated as:
It fuckin hurts the ego of the male chauvinist pig inside me if you dress up lady.
So shut up and stay back home. I am starting a cult called Taliban.
Sadhna passed away last week. Times of India called it as an end of era - as they normally call it. But somehow that actually seemed true this time. And as I was watching the song on the iPad on YouTube, she looked every bit magical - yet again.
RIP Sadhna!
Looking through those Sepia-tinted times, I remember the humble lives we led. Walking to schools, getting a ride on dad's cycle, playing cricket with plastic balls and makeshift bats, and watching Chitrahaar on portable B&W TVs - mostly at a friendly neighbour's house.
For the uninitiated, Chitrahaar was a bouquet of songs that was telecast semi weekly on Wednesdays and Fridays. 6 songs over 30 minutes. This was also where impressionable minds would receive their first lessons in love (not used as a euphemism for birds and bees). Oh that feeling of excitement and mystery surrounding the subject. How could I not be baptised?
Every time that the song "Aa ja aayi Bahar, dil hai bekarar" would show up on Chitrahaar, it would set my heart into motion. Let me justify.
The song portrayed the yearnings of a princess, stepping into adulthood, looking for the love of that elusive prince. Made in 1964, the song was one of the highlights of this film (rest of the film was average). An elaborate synchronised sequence with a host of dancers was choreographed in and around a waterfall. Flower laden coracles with dancing ladies joining the chorus amidst flowing water offered a visual spectacle that would stay with you.
But it was the female lead who hastened my emotional growth. Sadhna looked resplendent as she would lip sync flawlessly to Lata Mangeshkar's song. Her gait, posture, composure and rhythmic sways - all captured meticulously frame by frame. The black dress would create such an effective contrast against her fair skin that you could not take your eyes off the screen. That moment, that very moment - I wanted to marry her.
All this effervescence would be marred by the antics of the male lead Shammi Kapoor - who for some strange reason was to keep stalking her and make it seem all comical. I could never understand why he would want to keep following her all through the dance sequence and keep getting in and out of water. And so it seemed very hypocritical (after they got together) to sing to her -
"Is rang badalti duniya mein, insaan ki niyat theek nahin,
Nikla na karo tum saj dhaj kar, imaan ki niyat theek nahin"
Translated as:
It fuckin hurts the ego of the male chauvinist pig inside me if you dress up lady.
So shut up and stay back home. I am starting a cult called Taliban.
Sadhna passed away last week. Times of India called it as an end of era - as they normally call it. But somehow that actually seemed true this time. And as I was watching the song on the iPad on YouTube, she looked every bit magical - yet again.
RIP Sadhna!
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