Do you ever have a song, an idea, a storyline, or an image stuck in your head? And it just refuses to go away? For some time at least? I have this with music—it could be a song, an instrumental piece, a jingle, etc. This becomes my ‘now’ song, and the “nowness” (pardon my English here) could be for any length of time.
My ‘now’ song is Ve chori chori tere naal, a Punjabi folk song by Meesha Shafi, a Pakistani singer.
Do you ever have a song, an idea, a storyline, or an image stuck in your head? And it just refuses to go away? For some time at least. I have this with music—it could be a song, an instrumental piece, a jingle, etc. This becomes my ‘now’ song, and the ‘nowness’ (pardon my English here) could be for any length of time.
My now song is “Raske Bhare Tore Nain”, a thumri in Raga Bhairavi.
I first heard Heera Devi Mishra’s version of the song from the film Gaman, as an 8- or 9-year-old, when my brother got home an audio recording of Gaman’s songs. I didn’t think much of this song then, as the other songs (Seene main Jalan by Suresh Wadkar and Ajeeb sa Neha by Hariharan) were more appealing. As I grew older, it was “Raske bhare tore nain’s” sensuous music and lyrics and Heera Devi’s earthy voice that captured my imagination like no other. So much so, that I learnt this song from the audio tape and it remains in my repertoire of songs that I dare to sing in public ! Needless to say, it remains one of my all time favourite songs.
For a long time, I thought that only Heera Devi Mishra had sung this song, till quite recently I discovered versions of this song sung by Girija Devi and Bhimsen Joshi. In my opinion, both Girija Devi’s and Bhimsen Joshi’s renditions of this thumri is not as nice as Heera Devi’s.
Yesterday, I stumbled across Barkat Ali Khan’s sublime rendition of this song and I knew then that “Raske bhare tore nain” was my new “now” song. Though Khan’s mellifluous voice and Heera Devi’s earthy tones are in sharp contrast to one another, both their renditions delight in different ways — the former playful and soothing, and the latter sensuous and raw. Barkat Ali’s Khan’s version is given below.
You could take your pick as to which version you liked, or you could enjoy both of them like I did. Do let me know which one you liked. 🙂
Do you ever have a song, an idea, a storyline, or an image stuck in your head? And it just refuses to go away? For some time at least. I have this with music—it could be a song, an instrumental piece, a jingle, etc. This becomes my ‘now’ song, and the ‘nowness’ (pardon my English here) could be for any length of time.
My ‘now’ song is Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D and I present 2 versions here. The first version has the Canon being played by 3 violins, as it was originally meant. The second version is an adaptation of the Canon by the London Symphony Orchestra for a full orchestra. Both versions are equally beautiful.
It is Thursday evening and I am at the NCPA Mumbai’s Tata Theatre to attend an evening of Sufi music. The above words by Inayat Khan leap out of the beautifully produced and informative programme brochure on “Sama’a The Mystic Ecstasy: Festival of Sufi Music” as I read it to familiarise myself with the programme. Though I have listened to some Sufi music over the years, I have never attended a live performance. I also do not know anything about the history of Sufism or Sufi music, for that matter, except for the fact that music is central to the core experience of Sufism. The programme brochure states that
… music is regarded as a means for the believer to get closer to the Divine. Sufi music therefore is music of the ‘soul’ by the ‘soul’ and for the ‘soul’.
Do you ever have a song, an idea, a storyline, or an image stuck in your head? And it just refuses to go away? For some time at least. I have this with music—it could be a song, an instrumental piece, a jingle, etc. This becomes my ’now song, and the “nowness” (pardon my English here) could be for any length of time.
My ‘now’ song is Abhi na jao chhod kar ke dil abhi bhara nahin from the film Hum Dono.
I love this duet by Mohammad Rafi and Asha Bhosle, so beautifully filmed on Dev Anand and Sadhana. Rafi’s mellow, persuasive voice and Asha’s flirtatious response makes this song an all-time favourite. It is Rafi’s 30th death anniversary on 31st July 2010 and this is my tribute to him.
Do you ever have a song, an idea, a storyline, or an image stuck in your head? And it just refuses to go away? For sometime at least. I have this with music—it could be a song, an instrumental piece, a jingle, etc. This becomes my ‘now song, and the ‘nowness’ (pardon my English here) could be for any length of time.
My ‘now’ song is Zindagi bhar nahin bhoolegi woh barsaat ki raat from the 1960 Hindi film Barsaat ki Raat.
I prefer Lata Mangeshkar’s version (featured above) to Mohammad Rafi’s, arguably more popular, version. To me, Lata’s angst-filled voice just reaches out and envelops you in a kind of bittersweet longing, not just for love, but beautiful memories, relationships…