Jeena isi ka naam hai: Why Shailendra is the self-help poet you need

Jeena isika naam hai

Not unlike William Shakespeare, Shailendra has had several of his phrases take on a life of their own — ‘phir bhi dil hai Hindustani (the heart, after all, remains Indian); ‘jeena isika naam hai (this is what you call a life)’. This is because, like Shakespeare, Shailendra had the gift of communicating profundity with perfect simplicity.

Shailendra’s contemporary lyricists, in the ‘Golden Era’ of Bollywood, were formidable poets: Sahir Ludhianvi, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Hasrat Jaipuri, Kaifi Azmi, Rajinder Krishan, Shakeel Badayuni. While they have all written beautiful, finely crafted songs, Shailendra’s verses, some of which this column will look at, had that unique quality — simple enough to enter common speech, evocative enough to carry feeling, rhythmic and repetitive enough to be remembered.

He had faith in the invincibility of life

Shailendra going by a single name in the era of ‘-puris’ wasn’t a coincidence.

He was born Shankardas Kesarilal in Rawalpindi to a Bihari Dalit family that had migrated in search of work. Shailendra would go on to live and work in different cities — Mathura, then Bombay — but, as migrants know, you never quite feel entitled enough to claim a karmbhoomi as your own, let alone fold it into your name.

In Mumbai, Shailendra worked as a welder in a Railway workshop. He was a member of the Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA), writing poems about the struggles of the working class — his class — at the time of Partition and great churn in the social forces around him. It was at an IPTA gathering in the 1940s where Raj Kapoor first heard Shailendra and invited him to write songs for him. The poet refused as he did not wish to associate with the commercial world of Bollywood. However, when he later needed money for his wife’s medical expenses, Shailendra approached Raj Kapoor, and a legendary partnership was born.

Shailendra’s songs, thus, are deeply rooted in the common man’s world, his similes and imagery drawn from ordinary objects, aglow with the extraordinary power and beauty of what a human mind can do.

Sample this from his IPTA days: ‘Tu zinda hai tou zindagi ki jeet par yakeen kar/agar kahin hain swarg tou utaar la zameen par (if you are alive, believe in the victory of life/If heaven does exist, bring it down upon the Earth)’. As long as one is alive, possibilities are alive, but in order to make the best of those possibilities, one needs faith; faith in the invincibility of life, in one’s ability to find heaven and bring heaven to life.

The melody and the message

For me, it is this quality of Shailendra’s songs that is so precious —he had a hard life, but in song after song, he reaffirms that life is beautiful and worth living, if one can but find the light within.

‘Aaj fir jeene ki tamanna hai’ from the 1965 ‘Guide’ is often considered among the first feminist songs in Bollywood. Rosie has just walked out of a claustrophobic marriage and is feeling alive again. She sings the famous lines ‘aaj fir jeene ki tamanna hai, aaj fir marne ka iraada hai (I wish to live again today, I would like to die again today)’. The lines speak liberation — Rosie has control over her life again, she can live and die on her own terms; after all, one can hardly die for something till one has properly been alive.

But the lines that stay with me, as the recurrence of Shailendra’s philosophy, are, “Kal ke andheron se nikal ke/dekha hai aankhein malte malte/phool hi phool zindagi bahaar hai/ tay kar liya… (I have stepped out of the darkness of yesterday/rubbing my eyes to see flowers all around/life is abloom, this is my conclusion).” Rosie chooses to decide (tay kar liya) that her life is bahaar now, she is blooming and flourishing.

Another enduring favourite from Shailendra is ‘Awara hoon’ from the 1952 film Awara. Roughly, awara translates into English as a vagabond, unsheltered but also unfettered by domesticity. In the song, the ‘awara’ Raju sings of how he may be under a cloud, but he is still a star (gardish mein hun par aasmaan ka tara hun), carrying the sparkle of the elements within.

A stanza in the song goes, “Aabaad nahin barabaad sahi/ gaataa huun khushi ke geet magar/Zakhmon se bharaa seenaa hai meraa/hansti hai magar ye mast nazar.’ The tramp is not thriving, he is in fact ruined. But he chooses to sing songs of joy. And while his breast is wounded, he gazes at the world with carefree, laughing eyes.

But then, are the Rosies and Rajus of the world just deluded? Is desperate, forced optimism Shailendra’s prescription for every problem?

No, he also gives the key of how to remain positive in dire situations — live for something outside of your own self, live to bring joy and comfort to your fellow (wo)men. ‘Kisiki muskuraahaton pe ho nisaar/ Kisika dard mil sake to le udhaar/Kisike waaste ho tere dil mein pyaar/Jeena issi ka naam hai’ — sacrifice yourself for someone’s smile, borrow someone’s pain if you can, you are alive only if your heart beats with someone’s love. That way, you don’t just live a full life, you achieve immortality.

In fact, Shailendra’s own life is captured perfectly in his words: ‘Ke mar ke bhi kisi ko yaad aayenge/ Kisi ke aansuon mein muskuraayenge (I will be remembered even after death, will make someone smile through their tears)’.

See you on September 30,

Yours Literary,

Yashee

yashee.s@indianexpress.com

P.S: Do you think I should discuss more works in other languages? I can do Hindi and Urdu. Let me know!

P.P.S: If you love books, write to me with what work I should discuss next. If you are not a reader of novels, follow along, and maybe you will begin to delight in the wonder and wisdom, the practical value, and the sheer joy of fiction.