This article is written by Sudhir, a fellow enthusiast of Hindi movie music and a contributor to this blog. This article is meant to be posted in atulsongaday.me. If this article appears in other sites without the knowledge and consent of the web administrator of atulsongaday.me, then it is piracy of the copyright content of atulsongaday.me and is a punishable offence under the existing laws.
|
Blog Day :
|
5488 |
Post No. : |
17922 |
= = = = = = = = = = =
The Voice of Mukesh #76
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
Celebrating the Centenary of Mukesh
“o jaane waale ho sakey to laut ke aana. . .”
The film is ‘Bandini’ from 1963. Words from the pen of Shailendra and the music composition from the mind of SD Burman. The voice – is the voice that has embellished nearly a thousand songs, with an attractive rendition that makes the listeners fall in love with every song.
Yes, Mukesh.
The words – that come from the heart, imploring – could there be some way to call back, them who have departed. But alas, no one returns from the land of beyond now. And yet the heart waits. 53 years is not age to go. Yes, for the ones dear to heart, there is no age to go. But then 53. In an alien land, far away from family and friends. No reason why one would decide to call it a life. But then – one just expresses helplessness. These departures are not within our power to influence.
A century to measure – just a tradition to follow, nothing more. The memories that we celebrate are not dependent on these milestones. These memories get celebrated every day, each and every time that we listen to the voice, every time a song is heard, the memories in our vaults will rise up and create an upsurge – an upsurge of happy appreciation, an upsurge of gratitude to have been blessed to be born in this era, and also an upsurge of regretful longings – may that these unnamed associations would have been longer.
Yes, Mukesh. A voice that is always so different from others, and will remain so forever. Not that the word ‘divine‘ has not been associated with other singers. It has been, with many. And each of those voices have their own singular and exceptional attributes. But then, among all these heavenly voices, this one voice stands out – by its simplicity and deep seated honesty. As one listens, one believes. One is convinced instantly that the words being rendered are just and true. It is the voice that creates this feeling within. It carries such a soothing comfort in itself that one does not have a make an effort to believe. It just happens.
The feelings that arise within are like the flowing Ganga, the rays of the rising sun, the cool fragrant breeze and the clear blue skies. And the serene moonlight on a clear calm night. That is comfort that permeates the self, when the sounds of this voice settle into the mind when it says “Kise Yaad Rakhun, Kisey Bhool Jaaun. . .”. Or “Tum Jo Hamaare Meet Na Hotey. . .”, or “Saaranga Teri Yaad Mein. . .”. When this voice tells me “Chanda Ke Des Mein Rehti Ik Raani”, the mind, the self accepts it as a truth, and not a child’s fairy tale. When the words “Kaise Manaaun Piyava. . .”, are heard, the mind resonates with the sweet melancholy of a simple soul honestly examining itself. When this voice tells me “Hum Us Des Ki Vaasi Hain. . .”, the mind does not falter in its belief of this phrase. The words “Jaaun Kahaan Bata Ae Dil. . .” when heard in this voice, instantly evoke that restive helplessness within borne from a lifetime of despair. And the self wants to be up and dancing when this voice tells me “Tum Aaj Mere Sang Hans Lo. . .”. Another time and place when this voice renders “Dheere Re Chalo Mori Baanki Hiraniya”, almost as if on cue, the mind slows down to wait, for the sounds to catch up. The mind wells up with gratitude and contentment so true that the self feels fulfilled and all desires realized when the words in this voice tell me “Bahut Diya Dene Waale Ne Tujhko. . .”.
The songs are a thousand. And their emotional pull is endless. I could go on an on with the songs that this voice has rendered. I could lay down the sensitivities of each one of them. And at the end of it all, just one essence will remain – the soul. This sound comes from the truth, the purity and the honesty of the soul. That is the essential touch of divinity in this voice.
Ah Mukesh ji, it was a lifetime too short. No, I do not intend to take up an issue with destiny. Whatever transpired, that was supposed to be. Just that there is a petite setting within, an area of eternal emptiness that could have been not so vacant, only if. . .
I present today a song that has an utterly unique rarity associated with it. In a manner of speaking, the existence of this song was completely unknown to anybody prior to this centenary event six days ago. This song has never figured in any lists or any compilations before, for the simple reason that its origins lie in anonymous rarity completely away from the all the known regular channels where such music is traditionally made, recorded and disseminated. This song belongs to that completely unknown fringe area of music that we are all aware of, and at the same time, completely unaware.
This song is a recording from All India Radio.
A brief background here – over the decades, AIR has created a colossal amount of non-film music completely on its own. There is film music, and then there is non-film music that is created by the known commercial enterprises. Along with these, AIR itself commissioned and recorded a wealth of non-film music to be played on their broadcast channels and radio stations. This music has primarily been the property of AIR. It got played on the radio waves, but it was never ever distributed to the general public by any means.
When any artist performs on the AIR, it is a live presentation, and a onetime occasion. AIR had this need to be able to store and replicate these performances, to be repeat broadcast at different times and from different locations of their network of radio stations. So these performances were recorded, as they were rendered. To facilitate the distribution of such individual items, AIR pressed these recordings onto gramophone records. The labels on these records were AIR’s own. These records were distributed to all stations on the network, to enable their replay as and when required by the individual stations as per their own program itineraries. The existence of these gramophone records was not known at all, outside AIR.
Things have changed, technologies have changed, recording and storage methods have become more advanced. The gramophone records eventually became redundant and were just occupying space in their station premises. In recent past, over the last few years, AIR has been disposing off its collection of old media – gramophone records and spool tapes, along with a massive stock of old machinery and sound equipment that is now outdated. In this process the gramophone records also have come out of their storage. However, even now, not many people are aware of their existence.
A few months earlier this year, in Feb-Mar time frame, my dear collector friend, Zafar Shah, acquired a huge consignment of these AIR records in a very competitive auction. I was with him one of the days in March, at his warehouse when many sacks, not cartons, but huge sacks full of such records, were being delivered. Over the next few days, I visited him, and sat with him as he was going through the content of these sacks. I daresay that over a period of a couple of weeks, I was just able to witness the opening and browsing of the contents of just a couple of sacks.
As we browsed through, we chanced upon this record on the very first day. This famous Krishna bhajan written by Soordas ji about five centuries ago. This bhajan has been rendered and recorded by numerous singers. But this bhajan in the voice of Mukesh – we had never come across this before. After some detailed checking from some sources, we realized that we had made a stupendous discovery – this bhajan in the voice of Mukesh, is a completely unknown entity. We agreed that this discovery is of magnitude enough that it deserves to be shared with the world at large on the occasion of the singer’s birth centenary. Zafar Bhai kept his promise and posted this song on his channel, on 22nd July. The planned and promised post on our blog by yours truly has however been delayed by almost a week. Unpardonable, no excuses, just that personal circumstance in the past almost a fortnight have been very trying.
That said, we come back to this song. Soordas ji writes the words, as if writing on behalf of Kanhaiya. The lines are a lament and a complaint by a child, who at time would just be standing maybe not even waist high to Yashoda ji. He is bemoaning after the fact that whole village considers him to be a maakhan chor, the child thief who steals butter from wherever. Yashoda is probably furious as to why Kanhaiya has to go steal at other households, when there is no dearth of milk and butter at his own home. And even at home, why does he have to stealthily pilfer butter from the chheenka (छींका) (the earthen pot in which butter is stored and is hung with a rope from a hook in the ceiling, to ward off cats etc from reaching at it), when he can have as much as he desires just for asking. And so one day when she catches him literally white handed with butter on his hands and smeared all over his face, she is preparing to give it to him with a cane. As the flowing thoughts came to this juncture, Soordas ji could contain himself no more, and he sang, on behalf of Kanhaiya,
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
O dear Mother of mine, believe me
I have not eaten the butter
Quite a pretentious and an audacious assertion to make, given that he has been caught white handed.
Now Kanhaiya was at an age then, when he had started tending to the cows, and would take them for feeding and exercise every day, in the company of Nand Baba, Balram Bhaiya and other coterie of friends. So now he complains to Yashoda
bhor bhayo gaiyan ke paachhe
madhuban mohey pathaayo
chaar pehar bansi bat bhatkeyo
saanjh parey ghar aayo
Since early morning I have been tending after the cows, at your bidding. I walk with them to Madhuban, where you instructed me to take them. For almost the entire sunlight hours, I am wandering with the cows in the grass fields of Madhban and Bansi Bat. It is only as the sun comes down and the evening is nigh that I returned home with them. When would I have the time to steal butter?
In the Indian scheme of marking time, one pehar (or prehar) is of three hours duration. There are eight pehars in a day, four of which are the sunlight hours of daytime, and the other four are the night hours of darkness. So Kanhaiya is complaining that I have been tending cows for twelve hours at your bidding, and I am tired for the day. And you are accusing me of having enough energy to steal butter.
Madhuban and Bansi Bat (or Bansi Vat – बंसी वट; वट being the word for a banyan tree), are two locales in the forests around Vrindavan which are identified as two of the many लीला स्थली of Lord Krishna, places of Krishna’s pastimes, in the Braj area. It is said that these places of pastime became lost over the ages. Then, during the Bhakti period, when Shri Gaurang Mahaprabhu came to Vrindavan, he trekked across the area to re-discover these locales and restored them to their earlier prominence.
main baalak bahiyan ko chhoto
chheenko kehi vidh paayo
gwaal baal sab bair parey hain
barbas mukh laptaayo
Look at me, I am just a toddler, shorter even than my brother Balram. How do you think I could have reached the chheenka that is hanging from the ceiling? It is my so called friends, the other cowherds, who are bearing some jealousy towards me, and they have turned into enemies. It is them who have forcibly smeared this butter that you see on my face and on my hands. It is not I, but them, they have done this to me.
Now Kanhaiya is deflecting. He is now placing the blame on his elder brother and other cowherd friends in the coterie. He expresses great but simple logic, that with his height being what it is, it is impossible for him to reach the high placed chheenka and pull butter from it. So all that is evident as the commissioning of crime, is not his doing, but that of the group of friends.
ye le apni lakuti kamariya
bahut hi naach nachaayo
surdas tab bihasi yashoda
lai ur kantth lagaayo
Now Kanhaiya turns into the aggrieved party. He lays out the challenge that he will not go for tending to the cows henceforth. And as a good measure of offense, he tells Yashoda that he is putting aside the cowherd stick (lakuti) and the cowherd blanket (kamariya) and will not be using it anymore. After all the day’s hard work, if he has to face accusations of being a thief, then he does not want to tire himself doing the cow tending. And that he has been dancing to her tune so far, but no more. A bemused Yashoda who has been listening thus far to this tirade of saam daam dand bhed (साम दाम दंड भेद) from the tiny pleader, as he moves from trying to gain sympathy, then to shift the blame elsewhere, from logically explaining why he can’t reach the chheenka, and finally to challenging her that he will be stopping work in protest; now she can control her laughter no more, and bursts out in a delightful hilarity, and pulls Kanhaiya to herself and squeezes him in a loving embrace.
The kamariya mentioned in the bhajan is a blanket, a multipurpose cowherd device – protection against the elements be it cold, harsh sun or rain; something to lie on when tired; something to roll into a pillow and use for relaxing etc. The word comes from the Hindi word for blanket – kambal. And there are other variations in use also. Krishna is referred to as ‘Kaali Kamli Waale’. This ‘Kaali Kamli’ is this blanket only. In every such reference that we come across in scriptures and literature, the color of this blanket is always denoted as black.
There are thousands of bhajans written by the Saints who have spent a lifetime in their quest of love for Krishna. Some names we are familiar with, and there are numerous more names that are well known in the Braj area. The traditional literature of verses written in praise of and in love for Krishna, is a huge ocean. Of the some that I have been able to listen to and study, this bhajan is in my opinion, the most beautiful and the most loving description of a wayward child and his admonishing mother, and how everything finally just melts into love, the Love for that Supreme One.
The wonder of Krishn Leela is that the Lord incarnates and comes to live with the cowherds and farmers of the villages, and blends Himself so magically into that milieu. Even till today, in Braj area, the general feeling amongst the populace is that of Him being one of them, and not that of Him being the Lord. To some he is the son, to some he is a brother, to some he is a friend, to some he is a wonderfully helpful child, to some he is a nephew, and on and on. Yes there are temples in His honor and He is prayed to as a Royal Diety. And yet, when they will refer to Him, talk about Him, talk to Him, he is forever Kanhaiya for them, a naughty child eight nine years old, who still tends to the cows in the forests of Vrindavan, and still barges into homes to steal butter. Tradition has it that there are still many households in Braj area, that prepare fresh butter every day, and keep it early morning on the window sill, or just outside their door, with the belief that Kanhaiya will come to partake that butter.
Aah, those wondrous locales of Braj, those blessed people who lived there and still do. The endless tales of amazing pastimes. A place where Kanhaiya never wore any footwear. And for that reason, the dust of that area is considered divine and blessed, because it has been touched by the prattling feet of the Supreme One turned into a child. The child who played in the streets and alleys of Vrindavan, played pranks everyday with his coterie of cowherds, a child that never really grew up. He is forever the Kanuwa for the locals. (Kanuwa is the short form of Kahhaiya).
And when an annoyed Yashoda confronts him for his transgressions, with an innocent demeanor completely bereft of guilt, he responds
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
So much said about Kanuwa, and it seems still more is to be expressed.
And so too, for this divine voice, so much said, and it feels so inadequate. At the beginning of this post is an expression of a longing for this voice to somehow return. One knows in the depths of the heart that this is not possible.
And then the voice itself responds
duniya se jaane waale
jaane chale jaate hain kahaan
koi dhoondhe kaise un ko
hain nahin kadmon ke bhi nishaan
Mukesh – a hundred years, and forever.
Song – Maiya Mori Main Nahin Maakhan Khaayo (NFS) (1958) Singer – Mukesh, Lyrics – Soordas (Traditional), MD – Unattributed
Lyrics
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
bhor bhayo gaiyan ke paachhe
madhuban mohey pathaayo
chaar pehar bansi bat bhatkeyo
chaar pehar bansi bat bhatkeyo
saanjh parey ghar aayo
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
main baalak bahiyan ko chhoto oo oo oo
main baalak bahiyan ko chhoto
chheenko kehi vidh paayo
maiya mori
chheeko kehi vidh paayo
gwaal baal sab bair parey hain
gwaal baal sab bair parey hain
barbas mukh laptaayo re
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
ye le apni lakuti kamariya
bahut hi naach nachaayo
surdas tab bihasi yashoda
surdas tab bihasi yashoda
lai ur kantth lagaayo
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
maiya mori
main nahin maakhan khaayo
————————————————
Hindi script lyrics (Provided by Sudhir)
————————————————
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
भोर भयो गैय्यन के पाछे
मधुबन मोहे पठायो
चार पहर बंशी बट भटक्यो
चार पहर बंशी बट भटक्यो
साँझ परे घर आयो
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
मैं बालक भैय्यन को छोटों ओ ओ ओ
मैं बालक भैय्यन को छोटों
छींको केही विध पायो
मैया मोरी
छीको केही विध पायो
ग्वाल बाल सब बैर परे हैं
ग्वाल बाल सब बैर परे हैं
बरबस मुख लपटायो
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
ये ले अपनी लकुटी कमरिया
बहुत ही नाच नचायो
सूरदास तब बिहसी यशोदा
सूरदास तब बिहसी यशोदा
लै उर कंठ लगायो
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
मैया मोरी
मैं नहीं माखन खायो
How times change. 
