Raficionados certainly enjoyed this track

Sunghursh released in 1968.

Mere Pairon Mein Ghunghroo was the only song from the film on this blog.

By no means would it be incorrect to state that it was (and still is) a sunghursh (struggle) for the fans of the three men who collaborated on this track – Shakeel Badayuni (who penned it), Naushad (who composed it) and, of course, Mohammed Rafi (who rendered it) – to make a list of their favourite tracks.

But if they do, this enjoyable number – which was four minutes and 53 seconds long – would probably make it to that list.  

It was tailor-made for Asha

Parde Mein Rehne Do, the only song from Shikar (1968) on this blog, was tailor-made for just one singer.

No prizes for guessing that it was the one and only Asha Bhosle.

And by no means would it be incorrect to state that she did it justice.

In fact, it earned her the Filmfare Award in the Best Female Playback Singer category in 1969.

The track, which was penned by Hasrat Jaipuri, was composed by Shankar Jaikishan.

The other Bhosle solos in the film were Hai Mere Paas To Aa and Main Albeli Pyar Jatakar.

It was a MeLodious duet

Phool Tumhe Bheja Hai Khat Mein – which could be translated to, “I’ve sent you a flower with this letter” – was the longer of the two songs from Saraswatichandra on this blog – it was four minutes and 25 seconds long.

The only duet in the film, it was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar and Mukesh.

Kalyanji Virji Shah and Anandji Virji Shah bagged the National Film Award in the Best Music Director category for this film in 1969. In fact, it was the first Hindi film to win the prestigious accolade in this category.

Indeevar penned it.  

Mukesh’s version was truly awesome

If the two tracks from Saraswatichandra (1968) on this blog were arranged in the alphabetical order, as well as in the ascending order of their durations, the male version of Chandan Sa Badan would be first – it was three minutes and 57 seconds long.

I knew it was – and continues to be – among Mukesh’s most outstanding numbers, but I wasn’t aware of its female version. It was 33 seconds shorter than the male version, and was rendered by the one and only Lata Mangeshkar.

The track, which was penned by Indeevar, was composed by Kalyanji-Anandji.

Mukesh sang this standalone hit

I must confess I did a double take when I read the names of the three men who collaborated on Chal Akela Chal Akela, the only song from Sambandh (1968) on this blog.

It was penned by Kavi Pradeep, who was known for his patriotic numbers, and this track was anything but that.

O P Nayyar, who will always be remembered for his trendy numbers, composed it. And by no means was it his trademark tonga track.

And lastly, it was rendered by the one and only Mukesh, who did justice to the philosophical song.

Mehmood sang this hilaR(af)ious track

Actor Mehmood and lyricist Rajinder Krishan teamed up for another film that released in 1968.

It was titled Sadhu Aur Shaitan, and it earned the former a nomination in the Best Actor in a Comic Role category at the Filmfare Awards in 1969*.

This blog contains a post on just one track from the film – Mehbooba Mehbooba.

It was rendered by Mohammed Rafi, who was joined behind the microphone by Mehmood.

Laxmikant Shantaram Kudalkar and Pyarelal Ramprasad Sharma composed it.

(*Note: He was also nominated in the same category for Neel Kamal the same year.)

Kumar’s (Kisho)rendition was on point

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” went the popular line from Romeo and Juliet.

And undoubtedly, a song by any other name would be as rocking, and more so if it were composed by Rahul Dev Burman, and rendered by Kishore Kumar.

This post is about one such track – the jocular Meri Pyari Bindu (a.k.a. Mere Bhole Balam) from Padosan.

Penned by Rajinder Krishan, it was three minutes and 21 seconds long.

Many moons ago, there was a remixed version of the song, sung by Kunal Ganjawala. Its video was animated.

Kumar (Kisho)rendered both the versions

Short and sweet would be the most appropriate description of both the versions of Mere Saamne Wali Khidki, from Padosan.

This blog contains a post on just one version. While it wasn’t categorised based on the mood, it was a couple of minutes and 48 seconds long.

However, the other version of the song was the sad version. It was the shortest track in the film – it was 17 seconds shorter than the aforementioned version.

It was penned by Rajinder Krishan, composed by R D Burman, and rendered by the one and only Kishore Kumar.

Asha (Bhos)lent Ms Mangeshkar support

By no means would it be incorrect to state that Main Chali Main Chali was an outstanding example of sibling revelry – it was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar, who was joined behind the microphone by Asha Bhosle.

The track, from Padosan, was five minutes and four seconds long.

R D Burman composed the song, which Rajinder Krishan penned.

It inspired Woh Chali Woh Chali from Bombay Vikings’ second album, which was titled Woh Chali. It released in 2000.

The film’s soundtrack also featured a couple of solos by Mangeshkar – Bhai Battur and Sharam Aati Hai Magar.

Kumar (Kisho)rendered this underrated solo

Interestingly, Kehna Hai Kehna Hai was the longest of the three Kishore Kumar solos on the soundtrack of Padosan – it was three minutes and 39 seconds long.

Rajinder Krishan penned the underrated R D Burman composition, whose hook was, “Tum hi to laayi ho jeevan mein mere pyar pyar pyar” (which could be translated to, “It’s just you who has brought love into my life”).

But Kumar’s fans would paraphrase that to, “Aap hi to laaye the jeevan mein sabke gaane yaadgaar” (which means, “It’s just you who have brought memorable songs into everyone’s lives”).

This (Kisho)reused track was MeMorable

If the five songs from Padosan (1968) were arranged in the alphabetical order, Ek Chatur Naar would be the first.

The longest song in the film, it was half-a-dozen minutes and 18 seconds long.

The hilarious track, which was rendered by Kishore Kumar, Manna Dey and Mehmood (who co-produced the film as well), wasn’t actually from the period referred to as the Swinging Sixties (pun intended) – it was originally sung by Ashok Kumar in Jhoola (1941).

Penned by Rajinder Krishan (who happened to be the film’s writer too), it was composed by Rahul Dev Burman.

Rafi’s rendition was undoubtedly haunting

The only song from Neel Kamal (1968) on this blog was the haunting Aaja Tujhko Pukare Mera Pyar.

It was rendered by none other than Mohammed Rafi*.

The track, which Sahir Ludhianvi penned, was composed by Ravi Shankar Sharma.

(*Note: Rafi also rendered Babul Ki Duaein Leti Ja, arguably the most popular song in the film. It expressed the grief of a father while bidding his newlywed daughter adieu. The singer's eyes welled up with tears when he came to sing the song, because his daughter got married a few days before it was recorded.)

Unsurprisingly, Mr Dey (Man)nailed it

Today (June 21, 2019) is not just the longest day of the year, but it is World Music Day as well.

And there’s no better song to celebrate the occasion than one that was rendered by the one and only Manna Dey.

Needless to say, it was a classical number – Jhanak Jhanak Tori Baaje Payaliya, which was based on Raga Darbari Kanada.

The only track from Mere Huzoor (1968) on this blog, it was half-a-dozen minutes and 51 seconds long.

It was penned by Hasrat Jaipuri, and composed by Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal.

Aptly, MoHaMmeD Rafi rendered it

Na Ja Kahin Ab Na Ja – the second song from Mere Hamdam Mere Dost on this blog – could also be called the title track of this film.

It was the longer of the two songs from the film on this blog – it was half-a-dozen minutes and 19 seconds long.

No prizes for guessing that it was rendered by the one and only Mohammed Rafi. In fact, his name in the title of this post contains the initials of the film’s title.

Majrooh Sultanpuri penned the track, which Laxmikant Shantaram Kudalkar and Pyarelal Ramprasad Sharma composed.

Raficionados were brimfuls of happiness

This blog contains posts on a couple of tracks from Mere Hamdam Mere Dost (1968).

If they were arranged in the alphabetical order, as well as in the ascending order of their durations, Chhalkaye Jaam would be the first – it was four minutes and 50 seconds long.

The track – which could loosely be translated to, “Come on. Let’s raise a toast (with an overflowing glass) to your eyes and lips” – was rendered by the one and only Mohammed Rafi.

It was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, and composed by Laxmikant Shantaram Kudalkar and Pyarelal Ramprasad Sharma.

Mahendra certainly didn’t fare (Ka)poorly

Following a tiff with Mohammed Rafi, music director O P Nayyar didn’t employ his vocals for a short period, during which Mahendra Kapoor’s career got a boost.

He did a decent job rendering Lakhon Hain Yahan Dilwale, the shortest of the three songs from Kismat on this blog – it was four minutes and 17 seconds long.

It was inspired by a Western song titled Red River Valley, which was also called In The Bright Mohawk Valley, which, in turn, inspired another track titled The Bright Sherman Valley.

The track was penned by S H Bihari.

This AweSome number was reused

Kajra Mohabbat Wala – the popular song that was picturised on Biswajeet in drag and Babita disguised as a Pathan – was the longest of the three tracks from Kismat on this blog – it was half-a-dozen minutes and 22 seconds long.

S H Bihari penned the O P Nayyar composition, which was rendered by Asha Bhosle and Shamshad Begum.

Besides the fact that another version of the song – titled Revival – was added to the film’s compact disc and iTunes library decades after the film’s release, it was used – as an unremixed track – in Tanu Weds Manu (2011).

Asha’s rendition B(hos)lew everyone’s minds

If the three tracks from Kismat (1968) were arranged in the alphabetical order, Aao Huzoor Tumko would be the first.

The track, which was five minutes and 51 seconds long, was penned by Noor Devasi (whose last name is also spelled Dewasi)*.

It was rendered by the one and only Ms Bhosle, who, As(h)always, blew her fans’ minds.

The track was composed by O P Nayyar.

{*Note: He is the father of Sabbir Khan, the director of the Akshay Kumar-starrer Kambakkht Ishq (2009) and three Tiger Shroff-starrers [Heropanti (2014), Baaghi (2016) and Munna Michael (2017)].}

Rafi did this track justice

There’s no two ways about the fact that Likhe Jo Khat Tujhe – the only song from Kanyadaan (1968) on this blog – was an evergreen song, and one that would definitely be on the list of best songs about letters.

It was rendered by Mohammed Rafi.

The track, which was composed by Shankar Jaikishan, was penned by Gopaldas Saxena, whose nom de plume was Neeraj.

Apart from being a poet with a brief but marvellous association with the Hindi film industry as a lyricist, he was a professor of Hindi literature at Aligarh's Dharma Samaj College.

Rafi channelled his inner Elvis

Jhuk Gaya Aasman released in 1968. Rajendra Kumar’s Jubilee Kumar phase had ended by then*.

Its most popular song was Kaun Hai Jo Sapnon Mein Aaya (which was the only song from the film on this blog).

Hasrat Jaipuri penned the Shankar Jaikishan composition, which Mohammed Rafi rendered. It was inspired by Marguerita, from Elvis Presley’s 1963 album Fun In Acapulco.

[*Note: It ended with Suraj (1966). The title track of Kumar’s next, Palki (1967) – Mere Ghar Se Pyar Ki – was dropped from this playlist. Shakeel Badayuni penned the Naushad composition, which Manna Dey rendered.]

This Lata-Rafi duet stood out

Izzat (1968) was ironically titled, given that it was the only Hindi film in a full-fledged role of a person who straddled a profession once regarded immoral and one where honesty is seldom the best policy – the late Jayalalithaa*.

The only song from the film on this blog was Yeh Dil Tum Bin Kahin Lagta Nahin.

Sahir Ludhianvi penned this track, which Laxmikant-Pyarelal composed. It was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar and Mohammed Rafi.

[*Note: It wasn’t the six-time Tamil Nadu chief minister’s maiden tryst with Hindi films – she made a three-minute appearance in Man-Mauji (1962).]

Asha’s fans had haseen memories

While Asha Bhosle sang Woh Haseen Dard De Do, there’s no two ways about the fact the song from Humsaya evoked nothing but haseen memories for her fans.

Unlike other songs that were euphemistic, this O P Nayyar composition – which was penned by Shevan Rizvi – was direct from the word go.

Its next line – which went, “Jise main gale laga loon” – was followed by a couple of lines that went, “Woh nigah mujhpe daalo, ke main zindagi bana loon”.

And the one who pays no heed to such a sensuous request must be a loon.

Rafi’s fans’ hearts went, “Superb”

If the two tracks from Humsaya (1968) on this blog were to be arranged in the alphabetical order, Dil Ki Awaaz Bhi Sun – the most popular song in the film – would be the first.

The song – which could be translated to, “Listen to your heart’s voice too. Don’t merely go by hearsay” – was rendered by none other than Mohammed Rafi.

But if the crooner’s fans listened to their hearts, there’s two ways about the fact they would say that the track – which was composed by O P Nayyar and penned by Shevan Rizvi – was fantastic.  

ListeneRs bhi maan gaye, folks!

The only song from Haseena Maan Jayegi (1968) on this blog was Bekhudi Mein Sanam.

And by no means would it be incorrect to state that listeners bhi maan gaye that the track was outstanding.

Lata Mangeshkar and Mohammed Rafi rendered it.

Akhtar Romani penned the Kalyanji-Anandji composition.

The film marked the directorial debut of Prakash Mehra, who penned one of the tracks in the film – Suno Suno Kanyaon Ka Varnan.

It starred Shashi Kapoor and Babita. Karisma Kapoor, the former's grand-niece and the latter's daughter starred in the 1999 film of the same name.

It was (Mangeshk)areassurance before splitting

The most popular song from Ek Kali Muskai (1968) was Na Tum Bewafa Ho.

Its next one-and-a-half lines went, “Na hum bewafa hain, magar kya karen apni raahein juda hain”.

It could be translated to, “Neither have you been unfaithful, nor have I. But what can I do? Our paths are separate.”

Nobody wants to listen to a line that, but there’s no two ways about the fact that it was reassuring to the person at the receiving end.

Rajinder Krishan penned the Madan Mohan composition, which was rendered by none other than Lata Mangeshkar.

As(h)always, the (Kisho)rendition was outstanding

There’s no two ways about the fact that the most popular song on the soundtrack of Duniya (1968) was Dooriyan Nazdeekiyan Ban Gayeen.

It was the only track from the film on this blog.

Hasrat Jaipuri penned the track, which was five minutes and four seconds long. 

His other contribution to the soundtrack were the two Mohammed Rafi solos, Falsafa Pyar Ka Tum Kya Jaano (which was four minutes and 53 seconds long) and Jawaan Tum Ho Jawaan Hum Hain (which was four-and-a-half minutes long).

Asha Bhosle and Kishore Kumar rendered the Shankar Jaikishan composition.

Music LoveRs heard it ‘thrice’

No, this isn’t a figment of my imagination. Hearing this song thrice wasn’t the same as seeing it twice.

Tumhari Nazar Kyon Khafa was a song from Do Kaliyaan, whose soundtrack featured a couple of versions of the track.

Both were rendered by Lata Mangeshkar and Mohammed Rafi.

This blog contains just one version of the Ravi Shankar Sharma composition, which was penned by Sahir Ludhianvi – the happy version. The other was the sad version.

The third wasn’t another version, but it was among the tracks in the Antakshari sequence in Maine Pyar Kiya (1989).

Ms Mangeshkar packed a (bach)punch

It is purely coincidental that the previous post, this one and the next one are from films that starred Neetu Singh and released in 1968 (i.e., when she was a child artiste).

She was credited as Baby Sonia then.

This and the next post are on songs from Do Kaliyaan. If they were arranged in the alphabetical order, Bachche Man Ke Sachche would be the first.

It was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar (who was pushing 40 then) and picturised on Singh (who was almost a quarter of her age).

Sahir Ludhianvi penned the Ravi composition.

Kishore sang this underrated track

Hawaon Pe Likh Do was one of those melodious numbers I heard on an FM station, but I obviously didn’t know anything about the song, apart from the fact that it was rendered by Kishore Kumar.

That was where Google came to the rescue.

I found out that it was from a film titled Do Dooni Chaar (1968).

Gulzar penned this underrated track, which Hemant Kumar composed.

Interestingly, Neetu Singh was a child artiste in this film, and real-life husband Rishi Kapoor’s co-star in an unrelated film of the same name, which released in 2010.

The crooner earned (R)aFilmfare nomination

As I stated in my previous post, Mohammed Rafi earned nominations in the Best Male Playback Singer category at the Filmfare Awards for a couple of tracks from Brahmachari.

While he bagged the trophy for Dil Ke Jharokhe Mein, it wouldn’t be incorrect to state that the other – Main Gaoon Tum So Jao – became popular with Hindi film music buffs as well.

The song was penned by Shailendra, who bagged his third (and final) Filmfare Award for Best Lyricist. As luck would have it, it was a posthumous accolade.

It was composed by Shankar Jaikishan.

This solo was (R)aFilmfare winner

Dil Ke Jharokhe Mein, from Brahmachari, was the song that earned Mohammed Rafi the Filmfare Award in the Best Male Playback Singer category in 1968.

Interestingly, he was also the loser of the trophy – while the next song on this blog was one of the nominees, the other was Babul Ki Duaein Leti Jaa (from Neel Kamal). This blog does not contain a post on the latter.

The Shankar Jaikishan composition earned Hasrat Jaipuri a nomination in Best Lyricist category at the same ceremony.

Jaipuri penned another Rafi solo from the film – Tu Bemisaal Hai.

Mohammed Rafi's enjoyment was evident

It was appropriate that the vocals of Mohammed Rafi were employed for a song that was picturised on Shammi Kapoor and a bunch of kids in a car – the crooner was driven (pun intended) to excel.

The track in question was Chakke Mein Chakka, from Brahmachari.

Rafi had fun singing it, and that was evident in the song.

The song, which was penned by Shailendra, earned Shankar Jaikishan the Filmfare Award in the Best Music Director category in 1968 and the Bengal Film Journalists' Association (BFJA) Award for Best Music Director (Hindi section) in 1969.

It gave Ms Kalyanpur's careeRafillip

If the four songs from Brahmachari (1968) were arranged in the alphabetical order, Aaj Kal Tere Mere Pyar Ke Charche Har Zubaan Par – the chartbuster Hasrat Jaipuri penned – would be the first.

Originally meant for a Nasir Hussain film, and to be picturised on Dev Anand, the track was rejected by the latter, leaving Jaikishan (of the duo who composed it, Shankar Jaikishan) disappointed.

It fell into Shammi Kapoor's lap, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Mohammed Rafi – the vocalist who was instrumental in the success of Kapoor – rendered it with Suman Kalyanpur.

Manna De(finitel)y (As)had a blast

With intentionally-incorrect Hindi, Jodi Hamari Jamega – the only song from Aulad (1968) on this blog – was a hilarious song about the bleak possibility of a westernised man and a Hindustani girl getting together.

While the question was innocuous, her answer to it was confounding. “Baat maano saiyan, ban jaao Hindustani,” she sang. It could be translated to, “Listen to what I'm saying, darling. Become an Indian.”

It was composed by the underrated Chitragupta Shrivastava (who made his debut on this blog).

The track, which Majrooh Sultanpuri penned, was penned by Asha Bhosle and Manna Dey.

Mukesh sang this thought-provoking number

In the days of the Indipop boom, I heard the thought-provoking Oh Re Taal Mile Nadi Ke Jal Mein, which was one of the songs in Rest Day, cricketer Sanjay Manjrekar’s album featuring the favourite songs of members of the Indian cricket team.

And if my memory serves me right, it was Mohammad Azharuddin’s (the team’s then skipper) favourite song.

It was much later that I came to know it was from Anokhi Raat (1968).

The only song from the film on this blog, this Roshan composition was penned by Indeevar and rendered by Mukesh.

Mangeshkar rendered this reLatable number

If there was a song that almost every singleton would be able to relate to, it has to be Milti Hai Zindagi Mein, from Ankhen.

The opening line of the track, which was composed by Ravi Shankar Sharma, went, “Milti hai zindagi mein mohabbat kabhi kabhi”. It could be translated to, “It is only sometimes in life that you find love”.

However, it was a mere coincidence that the man who penned it (Sahir Ludhianvi) was a real-life bachelor, and the lady who rendered it (the one and only Lata Mangeshkar) is the eternal spinster.

This track certainly BeggareD belief

If the two tracks from Ankhen (1968) on this blog were arranged in the alphabetical order, De Data Ke Naam Tujhko Allah Rakhe would be the first.

Undoubtedly, its best line was, “Arre dinar nahin to dollar chalega, arre kameez nahin to kameez ka collar chalega” (the international fakir’s cry, which could be translated to, “If you can’t give me a dinar, I would not mind a dollar. If you can’t give me a shirt, I wouldn’t mind its collar”).

Sahir Ludhianvi penned the Ravi composition, which was rendered by Manna Dey and Asha Bhosle.

Rafi sang this underRateD track

R D Burman wasn’t the prolific Pancham in the 1960s. 

By no means would it be incorrect to state that one of his most underrated scores at that point was the soundtrack of Abhilasha, which released in 1968.

This blog contains a post on just one song from the film – the male version of Wadiyan Mera Daaman.

The song could be translated to, “The valleys are my skirt”.

It was rendered by the one and only Mohammed Rafi.

The female version of the track, which was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, was sung by Lata Mangeshkar.

Ashok Kumar’s rap is evergreen

Rap may have gained currency, thanks to the likes of Baba Sehgal in the 1990s, and Yo Yo Honey Singh and Badshah of late.

But dear Hindi film music buffs, thou shalt not forget the Dada (granddaddy) of the genre – actor Ashok Kumar (a.k.a. Dadamoni).

He rendered the most popular song in Aashirwad (1968) – Rail Gaadi. 

The Vasant Desai composition, which was penned by Harindranath Chattopadhyay, was the only song from the film on this blog.

Although the track is more hummable than some of the present-day rap numbers, Kumar certainly blessed the aforementioned rappers.

Rafi rendered this memorable number

This blog contained a post on just one song from Aadmi (1968) – Aaj Purani Raahon Se.

It was a song about wanting to let go of the past and start afresh, and, in fact, had a line that went, “Main woh tarane bhool chuka” (which could be translated to, “I have forgotten those songs”).

But there’s no two ways about the fact that the listeners didn’t want to forget this tarana, because it was rendered by the one and only Mohammed Rafi.

The track, which was penned by Shakeel Badayuni, was composed by Naushad Ali.

Kapoor deserved the National Award

If a playlist of the top ten patriotic songs from Hindi films were created, Meri Desh Ki Dharti would have been on it.

The track, from Upkar, earned Mahendra Kapoor the National Film Award in the Best Male Playback Singer category in 1968, in addition to a Filmfare nomination in the same category the same year. It wouldn’t be incorrect to state that he deserved both the accolade and the nomination.

It earned Gulshan Kumar Mehta (a.k.a. Gulshan Bawra) the Filmfare Award in the Best Lyricist category that year.

The song was composed by Kalyanji-Anandji.

Dey gave the listeners goosebumps

If the two songs from Upkar (1967) on this blog were arranged in the alphabetical order, Kasme Vaade Pyar Wafa would be the first.

There’s no two ways about the fact that the track, which was rendered by the one and only Manna Dey, gave the listeners goosebumps.

It was penned by Indeevar, who penned a couple of other songs in the film – Gulabi Raat Gulabi (which was rendered by Asha Bhosle) and Kaali Yeh Raat Kaali (which was sung by Mohammed Rafi).

The track was composed by Kalyanji Virji Shah and Anandji Virji Shah.

The listeners ceRtainLy weren’t khafa

While the third and final song from Shagird on this blog was titled Woh Hain Zara Khafa Khafa, the pronoun does not refer to the listeners. And that was because they had no reason to be upset.

After all, the only male-female duet on the soundtrack of the film was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar (who sang a couple of other solos in the film besides Dil Vil Pyaar Vyaar) and Mohammed Rafi (whose solo was titled Duniya Pagal Hai Ya Phir Main Deewana).

The track, which was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, was composed by Laxmikant-Pyarelal.

Lata rendered the Geetmala topper

Dil Vil Pyaar Vyaar – a film that released in 2002 and was inspired by the songs of R D Burman – derived its title from a song from Shagird.

Majrooh Sultanpuri penned the track, which Laxmikant-Pyarelal composed.

Lata Mangeshkar rendered the song, which topped the Binaca Geetmala annual list in 1968.

Incidentally, R D, Laxmikant and Pyarelal were buddies. Pancham played the mouth organ in two tracks from Dosti (1964), whose songs were composed by Laxmikant-Pyarelal. Laxmikant played himself (as the composer of Dil Ki Baat) in Teri Kasam (1982), whose songs were composed by Pancham.

Rafi De(finitel)y had a ball

If the three songs from Shagird (1967) on this blog were arranged in the alphabetical order, Bade Miyan Deewane would be the first.

The track – picturised on I S Johar and Mr Mukherjee (who is tutoring him to impress women) – literally gave the listeners a great deal of Joy.

It was rendered by Manna Dey and Mohammed Rafi, but there’s no two ways about the fact that the best line of the track – which Majrooh Sultanpuri penned – was, “Yahi to maloom nahin hai”. Johar uttered it.

Laxmikant Shantaram Kudalkar and Pyarelal Ramprasad Sharma composed it.

Mohammed Rafi deserved a salaami

This blog contains a post on one song from the Dilip Kumar-starrer Ram Aur Shyam, which released in 1967 and set the template for other films featuring protagonists in dual roles [including the Sridevi-starrer ChaalBaaz (1989)].

The track in question was Aaj Ki Raat Mere.

It was rendered by none other than Mohammed Rafi, and there’s no two ways about the fact that he deserved the dil ki salaami (which could be translated to, “a salute from the heart”) from each of his fans.

Shakeel Badayuni penned the track, which was composed by Naushad Ali.

Rafi’s version was more popular

Having lived alone in Mumbai for the last 13 years, and (ahem!) flown solo for the most part, I wouldn’t be lying if I said I could relate to the male version of Akele Hain Chale Aao, the only song from Raaz (1967) on this blog.

It was rendered by none other than Mohammed Rafi.

The next one-and-a-half lines of the track went, “Jahan ho. Kahan awaaz den tumko kahan ho?”

Lata Mangeshkar rendered its female version.

Both the versions were penned by Shamim Jaipuri, and composed by Kalyanji Virji Shah and Anandji Virji Shah.

Lata’s version was better known

The soundtrack of Raat Aur Din contained a couple of versions of its title track (Raat Aur Din Diya Jale).

While the male version was rendered by Mukesh, the female was sung by Lata Mangeshkar.

However, this blog contains a post on just one – the latter, which was a tad more popular than the former.

Shailendra penned the track, bringing out the contrast between the lamp that burns during the day as well as at night and the darkness in the mind of the protagonist.

It was composed by Shankarsingh Raghuvanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal.

It was a MemorabLe duet

Raat Aur Din, which released in 1967, marked the final screen appearance of Nargis Dutt, and earned her the first National Film Award in the Best Actress category (in addition to a nomination in the same category at the Filmfare Awards in 1969).

This blog features posts on a couple of tracks from the film. Of these, one – Dil Ki Girah Khol Do – was a duet (it was, in fact, the only duet in the film). Lata Mangeshkar and Manna Dey rendered it.

The track, which was penned by Shailendra, was composed by Shankar Jaikishan.

Mukesh rendered this bemisaal track

Although the second song from Patthar Ke Sanam on this blog was titled Tauba Yeh Matwali Chaal, tauba – Urdu for staying away – was definitely not a true-blue Hindi film music aficionado would want to do from the track.

The hook of the song was teri misaal kahan (which, in this context, means, “There is no one like you”).

But by no means would it be incorrect to state that it was applicable to each of the four individuals who collaborated on it.

It was penned by Anand Bakshi, composed by Laxmikant-Pyarelal, and rendered by Mukesh.

Everybody’s beloved crooner Rafi rocked!

If the two tracks from Patthar Ke Sanam (1967) were arranged in the alphabetical order, its title track would be the first.

To use a couple of words from the song, not listening to it would probably be a badi bhool (big blunder).

Of course, I wouldn’t recommend the song to a person who has had to bear the pain of a failed relationship, and I definitely wouldn’t suggest it to a person who has sought closure but hasn’t got it.

Jokes apart, Anand Bakshi penned the Laxmikant-Pyarelal composition, which was rendered by Mohammed Rafi.

Raficionados never stopped loving him

A Night In London is probably a morning in Mumbai, considering the fact that the two cities are five-and-a-half hours apart.

But this blog contains a post on just one song from the 1967 film of the same name.

The track in question was Nazar Na Lag Jaaye.

It was rendered by none other than Mohammed Rafi.

The hook of the song was O My Love. 

Speaking of love, he was, is and will always be loved by his fans, both in the British capital and here.

Anand Bakshi penned the track, which Laxmikant-Pyarelal composed.

Undoubtedly, Mukes(h)’s rendition was M(angeshk)arvellous

There’s no two ways about the fact that best line of Saawan Ka Mahina was the one that went, “Arre baba, shor nahin, sor, sor, S-O-R”.

The only song from Milan (1967) on this blog, it was composed by Laxmikant Pyarelal (who bagged the Filmfare Award in the Best Music Director category in 1968).

The track, which was penned by Anand Bakshi, was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar and Mukes (oops, Mukesh). The latter was nominated in the Best Male Playback Singer category at the Filmfare Awards in 1968.

Sadly, such melodies are ‘sor’ely missing nowadays.

Kumar (Kisho)rendered this rocking track

Since each of the six songs from Jewel Thief was awesome, it wouldn’t be incorrect to state that the best of the best was saved for last.

The track in question was Yeh Dil Na Hota Bechara.

Four minutes and 25 seconds long, it was the only solo by the one and only Kishore Kumar in the film.

The song, which was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, was penned by S D Burman.

It was inspired by River Kwai March, from the soundtrack of David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai, which released in 1957.

Shailendra penned this Lata solo

Rulake Gaya Sapna Mera was the shortest of the six tracks from Jewel Thief on this blog – it was three minutes and 39 seconds long.

But by no means did it fall short of the listeners’ expectations.

In fact, it was the only song in the film that was penned by the late Shankardas Kesarilal, popularly known as Shailendra (who passed away at the age of 43 in 1966). Interestingly, some of the legendary lyricist’s finest songs were posthumous.

It was the only Lata Mangeshkar solo in the film.

S D Burman composed the song.

Undoubtedly, the (Bhos)legendary Asha rocked!

Happy Father’s Day, folks!

S D Burman (who wasn’t just R D’s daddy, but the baap of Hindi film music too) composed Raat Akeli Hai [the track from Jewel Thief and not the one that was used in Ragini MMS (2011)].

It was Asha Bhosle’s only contribution to the film’s soundtrack.

The joint second-longest track in the film, it was five minutes and 19 seconds long.

Speaking of dads, it was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, whose son Andaleeb directed the Salman Khan-starrer Jaanam Samjha Karo (1999), which was also the title of Bhosle’s 1997 album.   

It was a mind-BLowing number

Honthon Mein Aisi Baat was the longest of the six songs from Jewel Thief on this blog – it was seven minutes and 58 seconds long.

Its last two verses – which went, “Raat kaali nagan si hui hai jawaan” and “Aisa mera jwala sa tan lehraaye” – began with, “Ho Shalu”, a shout-out to Vyjayanthimala’s character in the film.

The outstanding S D Burman composition, which was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar, Bhupinder Singh and a chorus.

It was one of the tracks in the Antakshari sequence in Maine Pyar Kiya (1989) too.

“A(a)(r)Re Wah,” exclaimed the ListeneRs

The only contribution of the legendary Mohammed Rafi to the soundtrack of Jewel Thief was Dil Pukare Aa Re.

He was joined behind the microphone by the one and only Lata Mangeshkar.

The track, which was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri and composed by S D Burman, was the joint second-longest song in the film – it was five minutes and 19 seconds long. 

It was – and continues to be – popular, and by no means would it be incorrect to state that on listening to it, many a Hindi film music buff has probably said, “A(a)(r)Re Wah!”

Ms Mangeshkar’s (Kisho)rendition was outstanding

It wasn’t just surprising, but also a tad disappointing, that the soundtrack of Jewel Thief (1967) wasn’t among the best Hindi film soundtracks of all time – there’s no two ways about the fact that each of the six songs from the film on this blog was splendid.

If they were arranged in the alphabetical order, Aasman Ke Neeche would be the first.

The song was three minutes and 53 seconds long.

It was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, and was composed by the one and only S D Burman.

Lata Mangeshkar and Mr Kumar (Kisho)rendered it.

Mahendra got the listeners’ saath

The second song from Hamraaz on this blog was Tum Agar Saath Dene Ka Vaada Karo.

If a Mahendra Kapoor biopic were ever made, there’s no two ways about the fact that this track would be a part of it, because it wasn’t just a fabulous number, but perhaps the singer’s own philosophy as well.

Hindi film music buffs were with him, and he promised to keep rendering such wonderful gems. And it was a vow he kept.

The track, which was penned by none other than Sahir Ludhianvi, was composed by Ravi Shankar Sharma.   

Kapoor bagged (Gag)another Filmfare trophy

B R Films was Mr Chopra’s BanneR, but for Mahendra Kapoor, it stood for the films that featured some of his Best Renditions.

One of them was Hamraaz (1967).

If the two tracks from the film were arranged in the alphabetical order, Neele Gagan Ke Tale, which earned Kapoor the Filmfare Award for Best Male Playback Singer in 1968. 

It was the first award after the Playback Singer category was split to honour male and female singers separately.

Sahir Ludhianvi penned the track, which was composed by another B R Films regular, Ravi Shankar Sharma.

Rafi made everyone go cuckoo!

Jeetendra came to be known as Jumping Jack – with his vigorous dancing, T-shirt, white shoes and trousers of the same hue as the said footwear, and of course, the cry of Koo Koo (which could be called the song’s hook) – after Farz, and, in particular, Mast Baharon Ka Main Aashiq, a song from the film.

The song, which was rendered by the one and only Mohammed Rafi, went to become a rage, and that is precisely what it still is.

It was penned by Anand Bakshi.

Laxmikant Shantaram Kudalkar and Pyarelal Ramprasad Sharma composed it.

This duet became extreMeLy popular

Of the three songs from Farz on this blog, Hum To Tere Aashiq Hain was the only duet.

The track, which was – and continues to be – very popular, was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar and Mukesh.

Penned by Anand Bakshi, it was composed by Laxmikant Pyarelal.

And here’s a bit of trivia about the track – it was one of the songs in the Antakshari sequence in Maine Pyar Kiya (1989).  In fact, the next song in that sequence – Nainon Mein Sapna [from Himmatwala (1983)] – was also picturised on Jeetendra. Farz proved to be the actor’s breakthrough.

Mohammed Rafi was truly ‘gift’ed

Combine the improbable Jiyo Hazaaron Saal from Sujata (1959) and the cute Happy Birthday To You from Door Ki Awaaz (1964), and voila! another extremely popular birthday song.

This track was also called Happy Birthday To You and it happened to be rendered by none other than the celebrated Mohammed Rafi, but it was from Farz (1967).

Alternatively titled Baar Baar Din Yeh Aaye, it was the perfect track to dedicate to a woman named Sunita on her birthday.

The song, which Anand Bakshi penned, was composed by Laxmikant Shantaram Kudalkar and Pyarelal Ramprasad Sharma.

Waqt did Mukesh no (Wa)favours

Firstly, Mukesh was the least prolific of the reigning triumvirate of male playback singers in the Golden Era.

Secondly, he seemed to be the first choice for heart-wrenching renditions. These included Waqt Karta Jo Wafa, the only song from Dil Ne Pukara (1967) on this blog.

If its first two lines (which could be translated to, “If time were loyal, you would be mine”) were paraphrased to, “Waqt karta jo wafa, Mukeshji hamare beech hote”, that would be the line his fans would dedicate to him.

It was penned by Indeevar, and composed by Kalyanji-Anandji.

Ms Mangeshkar’s fans were De(y)lighted

Chunri Sambhal Gori sounded like a prudish directive rendered with such childlike glee that even the listeners couldn’t help but go, “Aaraa raaraa raa”.

The longer of the two tracks from Baharon Ke Sapne on this blog, it was half-a-dozen minutes and 15 seconds long. In fact, it was the longest song in the film.

It would be unfair if it weren’t included in the list of the best songs rendered by Manna Dey.

He was joined behind the microphone by Lata Mangeshkar.

Majrooh Sultanpuri penned the song, which was composed by R D Burman.

Lata RendereD this (Panch)amazing track

Baharon Ke Sapne released in 1967.

If the two tracks from the film were to be arranged in the alphabetical order, as well as in the ascending order of their durations, Aaja Piya Tohe Pyaar Doon would be the first – it was four minutes and a dozen seconds long.

I was introduced to it via a recreated version (thank you, Instant Karma!)

And, thanks to Google, I came to know that it was composed by the one and only R D Burman.

The track, which was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar. 

The (Ra)film’s only duet wAs(h)amazing

The soundtrack of An Evening In Paris featured just one duet – the wonderful Raat Ke Humsafar.

No prizes for guessing that the male portion was rendered by Mohammed Rafi. 

He was joined behind the microphone by the one and only Asha Bhosle, whose only other contribution to the film’s soundtrack was Zuby Zuby Jalembu*.

The song, which Shailendra penned, was composed by Shankar Jaikishan.

[*Note: That, and Leja Leja Mera Dil – which was rendered by Sharda Rajan Iyengar (mononymously known as Sharda) – were the only two songs in the film that weren’t rendered by Rafi.]

  

It was A(EI)Pretty underRa(fi)ted solo

By no means would it be incorrect to state that the songs from An Evening In Paris on this blog were the Fabulous Five, but one of them was an underrated track.

The song in question was Deewane Ka Naam To Poochho.

This track, which was penned by Shailendra, should’ve been preceded by a warning that read, “Don’t sing this at any time or anywhere, or else you may have to introduce yourself to a gruff cop, and not a PYT. Moreover, you aren’t Mohammed Rafi (who rendered it)”.

It was composed by Shankar Jaikishan.

Mohammed Rafi capitalised yet again

From singing about a Japanese doll stealing his heart in Love In Tokyo to telling a woman that she won’t get an opportunity like this again in An Evening In Paris, Mohammed Rafi has done it all.

The latter, of course, was the translation of, “Aji aisa mauka phir kahan milega”, the title song of the Shammi Kapoor-starrer, which, if my memory of learning French in school serves me right, should’ve been titled Soir.

Undoubtedly, the highlight of the Shankar Jaikishan composition, which was penned by Hasrat Jaipuri, was Rafi’s enunciation of the word Paris.

Rafi single-handedly stole the show

A couple of lines of The Doorbeen’s Punjabi track Lamberghini (featuring Ragini Tandan), went, “Sanu vi chutta de do, kithe kalle kalle jaayi jaane o?” (which could be translated to, “Take me along. Where are you going alone?”)

If these lines are translated into Hindi and inverted, what one gets is Akele Akele Kahan Ja Rahe Ho, the song from An Evening In Paris.

Of course, it would be preposterous to suggest that Hasrat Jaipuri, who penned the song, and Shankar Jaikishan, who composed it, ‘inspired’ The Doorbeen, but the Mohammed Rafi song was awesome!

Rafi was truly a farishta

Today is Shanivaar (Saturday). But since I’m observing Shammivaar (a day dedicated to Shammi) on KalBlog, I’d like to complete the second leg of the ongoing series this morning in Mumbai with posts on the five songs from the Kapoor-starrer An Evening In Paris (1967) on this blog. 

If they were to be arranged in the alphabetical order, Aasman Se Aaya Farishta would be the first.

It was rendered by a farishta named Mohammed Rafi.

A few lines were credited to Sharmila Tagore, the film’s leading lady, too.

Hasrat Jaipuri penned the Shankar Jaikishan composition.

Raficionados lent it their kaan

Although I stated the obvious in the title of this post, I wanted a line that would rhyme with the title of the track – Tumne Mujhe Dekha Hokar Meherbaan.

It was the longer of the two Mohammed Rafi solos on the soundtrack of Teesri Manzil – it was four minutes and 44 seconds long.

By no means would it be incorrect to state that the lines of the song, which was penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri, were moving.

From the point of view of an aRDent fan of Burman, it could certainly be called an underrated song.