Dev Anand's 100th Birthday: Diving Into How Some of His Iconic Songs Took Shape

Here's how some of the musical gems from Dev Anand's films took shape.

The late actor-producer-director, Dev Anand, would have turned hundred this year, on 26 September. He has left behind a legacy of very entertaining films, studded with fabulous songs. Alpana Chowdhury, the author of Dev Anand: Dashing Debonair (from where the quotes have been taken in this article), narrates how some of the musical gems from his films took shape.

Melody was a hallmark of all Dev Anand’s films, whether they were made by Nav Ketan, his own production house, or by outside producers; with the debonair actor making it a point to be present at the music sittings of all his films. “Great compositions emerged from sessions of togetherness,” he felt. Never one to compromise on the quality of his films’ songs, even as a first-time producer he signed the singing sensation of the times, Suraiya, as his leading lady for Afsar. Her dulcet voice won over viewers with the very pleasing 'Man mor hua matwala', composed by Sachin Dev Burman. The actor would go on to having a long, warm association with the legendary composer.       

Nav Ketan’s second production, Baazi (1951), was directed by Guru Dutt, Dev’s buddy from his Prabhat Studio days, in Poona.

Baazi was a super hit despite Dev playing an anti-hero and Geeta Bali a moll. Again, the songs of this film contributed tremendously to the film’s success.

For years to come, Geeta Bali would be remembered as the guitar-strumming crooner of 'Tadbeer se bigdi hui/Taqdeer bana le', recorded in Geeta Dutt’s seductive voice. “Dada (SD Burman) started the trend of the naughty, sexy female voice,” pointed out Anand, half a century later, still remembering how Air Force officers in Jodhpur bought tickets just to see this song.

Lyricist Sahir Ludhianvi’s long association with Dev Anand and SD Burman started with Baazi. “Sahir was very learned but he could write in a language that went straight to the heart. And Dada believed in composing music that the layman could hum. They were an unbeatable combination!” effused the good-looking actor who started having shades of grey in many of the characters he played after Baazi; not just in Nav Ketan films but outside ones as well. “I think roles with a slight negative slant are more interesting than straight goody-goody types,” he explained. 

His role in the 1960 Bombai Ka Babu, produced by cameraman Jal Mistry and director Raj Khosla, a Nav Ketan regular, was an extremely bold one for its times, bordering on incest.

Playing Babu, a small-time criminal, who escapes from the police in Bombay to a small northern town after he commits a murder, he enters the home of a rich man, impersonating as his son, Kundan, who had vanished 20 years ago. The plot gets emotionally complicated when he falls in love with Maya (Suchitra Sen), the daughter of the house, his supposed sister.

The soul-stirring music by SD Burman took the delicate story forward in a nuanced manner. When Suchitra Sen mesmerises viewers with an exuberant 'Deewana mastana hua dil/Jaane kahan hoke bahar aayee' she is expressing her happiness at having found her long-lost brother, but when Anand joins in, his emotions are those of a lover. 

Reminiscing about the song, the actor recalled, “We drove all the way from Delhi to Kulu-Manali, where throughout the day you hear the torrential sound of the river Beas. The green meadows, the fat, fluffy sheep, the tall, towering trees…the place was idyllic. In the midst of all this, you have this beautiful, innocent girl breaking into song. Asha Bhosle and Mohamed Rafi, who sang for Suchitra and me, captured the complex emotions of the situation so well!  Sadly, this was one of the last films for which Sahir Ludhianvi wrote the lyrics for an S.D. Burman composition. The talented duo had a fall-out later."

Another of Anand’s films, far ahead of its times, was Guide (1965). Waheeda Rehman playing Rosie, a talented dancer, courageous enough to leave her boorish, archaeologist-husband’s home and live with a guide, expresses her freedom through an unfettered dance, atop forts and trucks, while singing a liberating 'Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai.'

“The song was shot in Udaipur and conveyed the exact mood of a woman coming out of a cage,” recalled the actress, when talking about her bold role.

“Could any song have been more appropriate for a situation where a neglected, suppressed wife is breaking free of her shackles?” corroborated Anand, as he described the making of the song. “Dada wasn’t well and was unable to compose the song before the unit left for Udaipur. But he assured us he would send the song in time for the shoot. He kept his word and sent us a song to suit the scene just as Goldie (Dev’s younger brother, director Vijay Anand) had visualised it. Dada was a very cinematic man.”

Interestingly, the song was written by Shailendra, with whom Nav Ketan had had differences, earlier. But they made up on a flight from Delhi to Bombay. “Shailendra was seated behind Goldie and me,” related Anand. “Mid-air, he came up to us, saying, ‘Look, I am a little high now, but I am writing the songs for Guide.’ And he did!” As simple as that.

What would Guide have been without Shailendra’s lyrics? Without 'Tere mere sapne ab ek rang hain' with which Raju guide consoles Rosie, or without the poignant 'Din dhal jaye haye/ Raat na jaye?'

The actor revealed that the first tune Burman had given him for 'Din dhal jaye' was not quite appropriate and he told him so, sharing as they did a comfortable relationship. “The next morning he woke me up asking me to call Shailendra and keep a harmonium ready by night. Dada came, played us a tune and within minutes Shailendra had written the mukhda of Din dhal jaye.” This is how creative talents came together to produce evergreen music.

Earlier, Anand had played a black-market ticket-peddler in Kaala Bazaar (1960) which was also directed by Vijay Anand and whose melodious music was composed by S. D. Burman. “Dada had a soft spot for Dev Anand,” observed Waheeda Rehman who played the book-loving heroine of this film. “And he composed some of his best music for him.” Shailendra’s association with Nav Ketan started with Kaala Bazaar that had gems like 'Rimjhim ke tarane leke aayi barsaat' and 'Khoya khoya chand, khula aasman.' The latter song was composed on Dada’s terrace, one moon-lit night. “All of us were just relaxing when Dada started playing on his harmonium. Inspired, Shailendra started singing to the tune,” remembered the actor. “The song was 'Khoya khoya chand.' There was an element of romantic solitude in the song and Goldie did full justice to it, while capturing the splendour and magnitude of the universe. It was a song born of spontaneity and teamwork.”

Teamwork produced another charming song: 'Achcha ji main haari, chalo maan jao na', the playful duet from Kaala Paani (1958). “Majrooh Sultanpuri who wrote the lyrics, was a born romantic. Dada, too, was romantic at heart and only he could have composed the lively tune for this cute situation where young lovers are making up after a fight,” related Anand. About his heroine, Madhubala who lit up the screen with her dazzling smile, Anand said fondly, “She was school-girlish and broke into giggles on the smallest pretext. Her laughter was very infectious—that’s why the teasing and counter-teasing in this song came across so well.”

Wooing viewers with sweet melody was another of Anand’s films that had not just the man on the street hooked to its songs but men in uniform greeting the actor with lines from one or the other of its songs when he visited border areas. Hum Dono (1961) saw Jaidev, S.D. Burman’s talented assistant and a salaried employee of Nav Ketan, composing the music. Anand played a double role with Nanda and Sadhana as co-stars in this poignant story set against World War II. Nanda shared moments from the film, eternally grateful to Anand for casting her in this role. “There was one scene which was very tenderly romantic. I am knitting and he tells me, gently, ‘I have to tell you something but you will cry.’ I promise him I won’t. And then he says he has to go to war!”

Playing the wife of Major Verma in the film, the young actress stole the hearts of many a soldier and was flooded with letters from them. All of them wanted a wife like her! For her, the song she sang in the film, 'Allah tero naam', remained one of her favourites till the end. “There is such a pleasant serenity on my face…I love to watch this scene repeatedly,” she said, nostalgically.

For Anand, Sahir Ludhianvi’s lyric, Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya/ Har phikr ko dhuen mein udata chala gaya gave him a philosophy to face the vicissitudes of life. The song begins with the musical sound of a lighter. “The sound of the lighter links many of the songs emotionally,” pointed out the actor. In fact, the film opens with the tinkling tune of a lighter which Mita (Sadhana) has brought for her beloved when she meets him away from the prying eyes of the world. “Later, when I am on the Burma front, fighting, I touch the lighter in my pocket and yearn to have Mita beside me. I drown my loneliness in song, with the lighter providing solace. Using the sound of the lighter in this manner was a wonderful innovation by Jaidev,” continued Anand. 

“I am a slave to melody,” the actor once told this writer. And his directors understood this well. So they took special care when filming songs, especially his brother Goldie who was as much a slave to melody and romance.

Their rapport made many a song situation plausible that would not have worked in lesser hands.

When architect Rakesh in Tere Ghar Ke Saamne (1963) rides on a scooter all the way from Delhi to Simla looking for his sweetheart, Sulekha (played by Nutan), and wakes up half of Simla belting out 'Tu kahan yeh bataa/Is andheri raat mein', he projected the madness of young love. Very convincingly.

The film had many such mad moments. When Mohammad Rafi lent his romantic voice to the architect to serenade a shy Sulekha with 'Dil ka bhavar kare pukar', in the narrow stairway of the Qutub Minar, it is young, impulsive love yet again. The humming sound of silence echoing in the stairs was marvellously woven into the song by Burman. Under Goldie’s direction, the scene was as much cameraman V. Ratra’s triumph as it was art director Biren Naug, lyricist Hasrat Jaipuri and composer S.D. Burman’s. Anand revealed the technique behind the madness: “A long shot of the Qutub was taken in Delhi and the interior was created in Mehboob Studio in Bombay, with strategic openings for the camera movement. It was tricky. The camera had to follow the lovers and incorporate amused passers-by, without letting the audience know it’s a set.”

Yet another absolutely delightful song is the title song of the film with a tipsy Rakesh visualising Sulekha in his drink, singing along with him while dodging the ice cube that is dropped into the glass! Only a director of the calibre of Vijay Anand would have had the imagination to introduce such amusing touches. 

A virtual treasure trove of sweet melodies, especially from the 1940s to the early 1970s, Dev Anand’s films had a range of talented singers. Kishore Kumar’s playback career started with Anand’s Ziddi (1948) and he went on to singing many lively numbers for the actor. Hemant Kumar and Talat Mehmood lent a soft mellow mood to films like Jaal and Taxi Driver respectively, while Mohammad Rafi’s voice made Anand a national heartthrob. His heroines matched his charm with more than a little help from nightingales like Suraiya, Geeta Dutt, Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle and Usha Uthup.

On his hundredth birthday, remembering the man whose films created magic through music…