Pagadi pahan ke turredaar akadta kyun hai
Posted on: March 31, 2013
This article is written by Sudhir, a fellow enthusiast of Hindi movie music and a regular contributor to this blog.
An old adage – they say that the real geniuses leave early. Many an instance are scattered all over the history timeline. Gosh, she was still 4 months short of her 40th birthday when she gave up her resistance to the personal tragedies and tribulations, making her way out of the miserable labyrinths of control and manipulations that she was subjected to most of her life. Ah but, what a color her own life, rubbed on to her on screen persona, as she moved from one perfection to the next in the tragic milieu of tangled relationships and human miseries. A performer too young, too vivacious, to be baptized as the Tragedy Queen. And the vicious circle moved from real life to screen and back, so many times over, that her cup of life proved to be diminutive, unable to hold all the sorrows that the world put in it.
Born on 1st August 1932, and passed away on 31st March 1972, she remained forever, Mahajabeen, the moon faced – a shining orb of excellence that lighted many an onscreen persona so much loved by the people who saw them. But most never got a glimpse, or even had an inkling of the pockmarks and scars of sorrow hiding just below the surface, cloaked by her own brilliance. The scars and injuries that were given to her by the people closest to her, by the ones she trusted the most. Her family, who only saw a wonderful prodigal performer, and not the child and the human being behind the veneer. And the one man she loved, who only saw the beauty and a prize to cherish, and never realized there was a woman desperately seeking completion of her identity. Was that something she did to her onscreen persona, or was it the other way round, that every onscreen persona ended up intensifying her desire for being the complete woman? One can only wonder.
Starting with the Gauri of ‘Baiju Baawra’ (1952), a woman ready to sacrifice her life and her spirit both to enrich the music of the man she loved, she went on to be the Lalita of ‘Parineeta’ (1953) whose emotional attachments are caught in the crossfire of familial acrimony. She was the Sheetal of ‘Daaeraa’ (1953), a young heart betrothed to an old man, slowly suffocating in the social inadequacies and the fires of her own youth. From Sheetal, she went on to be Malti of ‘Ek Hi Raasta’ (1956) suffering the social brutality and the stigmatized life of a young widow. In 1957, she was ‘Sharda’ the epitome of the powerless woman in a patriarchic society. And then was the Hannah of ‘Yahudi’ (1958), caught in the love tangle built on the lies of a royal prince of adversarial ethnicity. She was Chavli in ‘Chaar Dil Chaar Raahen’ (1959), the low cast young woman, banished for her emotional attachments to a higher caste. In 1960, she was Karuna in ‘Dil Apna Aur Preet Paraai’, a woman loved and let go, constantly suffering at the instance of her rival. In 1961, she was both the Radha and also Rani in ‘Pyaar Ka Sagar’, caught in a most difficult love triangle involving two brothers one of whom does not know the truth, and the other one is now blind and can not see the reality. In the same year, she was Geeta of ‘Bhabhi Ki Chudiyan’, probably one of the superb portrayals of a childless woman pining for motherhood, and then ostracized by her own younger sister in law.
Almost all these performances had tragic consequences, on screen. But they also had a mortifying impact on herself and her real life, as the storylines from the screen started to reflect in parts her own personal life, and the boundary line between reality and storytelling became hazy and chillingly surreal.
And still, the best, or worst, was still to come. On came 1962, and she was the Aarti in ‘Aarti’ and Gayatri in ‘Main Chup Rahungi’, portraying women who would be manipulated by ones she thought were her own, and suffering in silence. And then there was Chhoti Bahu of ‘Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam’ – an expression, a performance without any parallels; of a woman driven by the exploration of her own desires and expectations, tearing apart the fabric of social norms thread by thread, leading to her own ruin and fatal devastation, seeking the attention of the man who is her husband, and with whom she is supposed to be. (All three Filmfare award nominations for the best actress that year, went to her for these three films).
Her exploration of the suffering female figure, manipulated and scorned, continued with ‘Dil Ek Mandir’ (1963), ‘Saanjh Aur Savera’ (1964), ‘Chitralekha’ (1964), ‘Benazir’ (1964), ‘Purnima’ (1965), ‘Kaajal’ (1965), ‘Bheegi Raat’ (1965), ‘Phool Aur Pathar’ (1965) . . .
And all this while, her personal life lay in ruins, shattered and smothered by the same machinations that were the fodder of her onscreen storylines. In 1952, she met with and was enamoured by a man 15 years older, already married and with children. The rub became an abrasion, when she was forced to terminate her pregnancy by the very man she was in love with, and her real dreams of seeking fulfillment as a woman and completeness as a mother, were inhumanly crushed by the ‘principled’ whims of the man. They were separated in 1960, and divorced in 1964. But by this time, the life of Mahajabeen was on a slide of no return, dripping with alcohol. She would drag on for some more years, waiting for her swansong – ‘Pakeezah’ (1972), and then she took the final passage to the journey of no return within weeks of the release of this film.
It is true that along the way in her career, she has done notable light roles also. But the impact of tragedy and the brutal typecasting that occurred, was still that of a tragedy queen. It is really a blast of disbelief to know that this very same devastated woman was once the vivacious Soni of ‘Madhosh’ (1951) and Kiran of ‘Tamasha’ (1952). ‘Madhosh’ was the very first film that drew attention of the industry and the audiences, to this nineteen year old bubbly and chirpy young woman coming of age in a career that she had started way back as a child of seven years. And all that is written above, is such a unhappy juxtaposition to what she was when she started off.
This song from ‘Madhosh’ is as spirited and as cheerful as it can get. The young instigator of the group of girls is taking on the handsomest of the young men (role played by S Nazir Manhar Desai) in the village, daring him to act bossy and dominant, and telling him off with her words and actions. The onscreen antics completely belie the image of the lonely and tragic life that was to follow this song, on a very short notice.
Raja Mehndi Ali Khan is the poet and the Madan Mohan is the composer behind this lively piece of music. The singing voices are those of Shamshad Begum and GM Durrani, with a possible second female singer going uncredited for the two or four lines that are sung by a voice that is not Shamshad Begum.
Oh, just listen, and see the video clip. And wonder, what happens to life. Destiny played a raw hand, taking back this soul just too soon. When the end would have come, she was probably ready to leave. The rest of us were not.
Song-Pagdi pehan ke turredaar (Madhosh)(1951) Singers-Shamshad Begam, G M Durrani, Lyrics-Raja Mehdi Ali Khan, MD-Madan Mohan
Unknown female voice
Chorus
Lyrics
pagdi pehan ke turredaar
akadtaa kyun hai
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
tu to nahin hai thaanedaar
tu to nahin hai thaanedaar
oye akadtaa kyun hai
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
saare gaaon mein nahin tera jawaab re
saare gaaon mein nahin tera jawaab re
dil mein hai gussa moonh pe jhootha rubaab re
dil mein hai gussa moonh pe jhootha rubaab re
maathe pe sau sau tyuri daal
maathe pe sau sau tyuri daal
oye bigadtaa kyun hai
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
humse na tum jhagadnaa
gaaon ki chhoriyo
dekho bhaago yahaan se
kaali aur goiryo
phir na kehna hamraa sardaar
phir na kehna hamraa sardaar
bigadtaa kyun hai
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
hum ko na tum samjhnaa
shehar ki chhoriaan
ji shehar ki chhoriaan
oye
chutney banaa dein teri
gaaon ki goiraan
ji gaaon ki goiraan
peechhe hamaare tu bekaar
ae eee ae eee ae eee ae eee ae eee
peechhe hamaare tu bekaar
hmmm mmmm hmmmmm
peechhe hamaare tu bekaar
haaye padtaa kyun hai
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
tum jaisi laakhon mere peechhe phirin hain
mere kadmon pe aa ke ro ro girin hain
kehti thin hum se o dildaar
haaye dildaar
kehti thin hum se o dildaar
bichhdtaa kyun hai
kehti thi hum se o dildaar
bichhdtaa kyun hai
jaa jaa
tu garoor se madhosh
o tere gum kar denge hosh
jaa jaa bhaag jaa bhaag jaa
jaa jaa bhaag jaa
o tera thanda kar dein josh
o tujhe kar denge be-hosh
jaa jaa bhaag jaa bhaag jaa
jaa jaa bhaag jaa
oye jaa jaa bhaag jaa bhaag jaa
jaa jaa bhaag jaa
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
hoye
pagdi pehan ke turre daar
akadtaa kyun hai
———————————————————–
Hindi script lyrics (Provided by Sudhir)
———————————————————–
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
तू तो नहीं है थानेदार
तू तो नहीं है थानेदार
ओए अकड़ता क्यूँ है
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
सारे गाँव में नहीं तेरा जवाब रे
सारे गाँव में नहीं तेरा जवाब रे
दिल में है गुस्सा मुंह पे झूठा रुबाब रे
दिल में है गुस्सा मुंह पे झूठा रुबाब रे
माथे पे सौ सौ त्युरी दाल
माथे पे सौ सौ त्युरी दाल
ओए बिगड़ता क्यूँ है
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
हमसे न तुम झगड़ना
गाँव की छोरियो
जाओ भागो यहां से
काली और गोरियो
फिर न कहना हमरा सरदार
फिर न कहना हमरा सरदार
बिगड़ता क्यूँ है
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
हमको ना तुम समझना
शहर की छोरियाँ
जी शहर की छोरियाँ
ओए
चटनी बना दें तेरी
गाँव की गोरियां
जी गाँव की गोरियां
पीछे हमारे तू बेकार
एई एई एई एई एई एई
पीछे हमारे तू बेकार
हम्ममम म्ममम हम्ममम
पीछे हमारे तू बेकार
हाए पड़ता क्यूँ है
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
तुम जैसी लाखों मेरे पीछे फिरीं हैं
मेरे कदमों पे आके रो रो गिरीं हैं
कहती थीं हमसे ओ दिलदार
हाए दिलदार
कहती थीं हमसे ओ दिलदार
बिछड़ता क्यूँ है
कहती थीं हमसे ओ दिलदार
बिछड़ता क्यूँ है
जा जा
तू गरूर से मदहोश
ओ तेरे गुम कर देंगे होश
जा जा भाग जा भाग जा
जा जा भाग जा
ओ तेरा ठंडा कर दें जोश
ओ तुझे कर देंगे बेहोश
जा जा भाग जा भाग जा
जा जा भाग जा
ओए
जा जा भाग जा भाग जा
जा जा भाग जा
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
होय पगड़ी पहन के तुर्रेदार
अकड़ता क्यूँ है
6 Responses to "Pagadi pahan ke turredaar akadta kyun hai"
March 31, 2013 at 6:40 pm
The actor is not S. Nazir, but Manhar Desai, one of the most popular Gujarati star of late 40s & 50s.
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April 1, 2013 at 1:06 pm
Avinash ji,
Thanks for your note of appreciation. 🙂
Nayan ji,
You are correct in pointing out the error on my part. The gentleman in this song is Manhar Desai. Thanks for pointing it out.
Atul ji,
I would request you to kindly make the correction in the write up, and replace the name ‘S Nazir’ with ‘Manhar Desai’.
Rgds
Sudhir
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April 11, 2013 at 3:27 pm
Sir,
Reading the write up is as if I am looking at a pencil sketch of Meena Kumari and the face that emerges bares the beauty and the soul.
I have not seen many of the films mentioned. Should try and see them sometime.
Btw, the word in this line, is ‘tewari’
maathe pe sau sau ‘ tewari ‘ daal
‘tewar’ as in :
‘ tewar to dekho ! ‘ or ‘ Kya tewar hain ‘ .
In contemporary english ‘ tewar ‘ should translate to ‘attitude’ .
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October 14, 2013 at 9:29 pm
What an article Sudhir Ji. It was like pages from her autobiography. I always admired Meena Kumari. There was so much life in the roles she played and she was someone a woman could really look upto. It is so sad to see the good people suffer so much in life and get a raw deal. It is true right, life is just not fair. Thanks Sudhir ji, loved the write up.
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Atul’s Song A Day- A choice collection of Hindi Film & Non-Film Songs 
March 31, 2013 at 6:20 pm
While reading the article i feel the words coming straight from Sudhir ji’s heart, and yes they travel through my heart ‘unlocking’ the phenomena called ‘Meena Kumari’- a journey of her ‘reel’ and ‘real’ life.
how to put it, i am short of words, ‘a perfectly crafted article’ or a ‘spontaneous flow of words beautifully woven….
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