Mainstream Hindi cinema or Bollywood as it is popularly known to people both outside of India and its native residents is a branch of cinema that has developed and culminated after integrating and rejecting several cinematic and artistic tropes. It is fair to say that even though it took millions of films to establish Bollywood as a visual art institution, it was actually the grit and determination of Dada Saheb Phalke that set off a domino effect which in turn led to the firm establishment of this institution. Parallel to the cinematic boom in our country during the onset of the 20th century, Parsi theatre was a highly sought-after mode of entertainment. Parsi theatre employed songs, dance and just provided overall wholesome entertainment. While Dadasaheb did in fact bring cinema to India, it was actually Ardeshir Irani who introduced music as an instrument of the cinematic medium by employing it heavily in the first-ever talkie that was produced out of India. Alam Ara. It wouldn’t come to anyone’s surprise that a) Ardeshir was Parsi and b) Alam Ara was the screen adaptation of a Parsi play. It employed seven songs in total and laid the benchmark in a way for Indian films that followed.
R.D Burman, Manna Dey, Kishore Kumar all carried forward this legacy beautifully. Many of their songs were written, sung and performed exclusively for films. These songs were created decades ago but still evoke emotions, tell stories and touch the heartstrings in the most beautiful ways possible. Rishi Kapoor in his autobiography ‘Khullam Khulla’ stated candidly how superstars of his time had singers that were exclusively associated with them. Shailendra Singh and Kishore Kumar were always the first choices when it came to Rishi Kapoor films as their voice matched his baritone and distinct voice texture.
My introduction to films was through Western cinema. Sam Remy’s Spiderman (2002) was the first feature-length film my infant brain retained and I explicitly mention the film as being my cinematic epiphany. My father preceded me as the Tripathi household’s ultimate movie buff and he unapologetically sought out a Western cinema in a time when it was hard to experience. My dad grew up with the Indiana Jones trilogy, The Predator, Rocky, and the original Star Wars trilogy. His love for Hollywood classics carried over to adulthood, so he made sure his son experiences the same cinema. I had watched English films as old as Metropolis(1927) but didn’t care much about Shahrukh Khan films as a 5-year-old.
So, when I was introduced to ‘Bollywood’ at a later age it was always baffling to me why suddenly after realizing their love for each other Raj and Simran are compelled to breakdance in the middle of the street surrounded by random background dancers who are masters of synced choreography. I have seen good contemporary Indian films being completely incinerated by pointless song and dance sequences that do not serve any purpose rather than force-feeding mindless entertainment and capitalizing on album sales. My perspective remains firm. If a song is a hindrance to the narrative of the film, it's completely pointless. The first time I was moved by a song in a film, understood its essence, was completely enthralled by the singing, composition and the story it told was when I watched ‘Laila Majnu’ at PVR cinemas at an exclusive screening for student theatre practitioners of Delhi University, conducted by the writer of the film Imtiaz Ali. The name of the song was ‘Hafiz Hafiz’.
Laila Majnu is a classic tragic romance that is widely known throughout the Indian subcontinent. The story was first written in the 9th century and the existing version is a culmination of a variety of poetic traditions. No historical evidence suggests that the duo actually existed. What makes this story compelling and what actually makes it stand out is its portrayal of Qais who eventually becomes Manjum or Majnu which literally means ‘possessed’. His descent into madness is a harsh representation of unfulfilled and obsessive love which can easily pass off as infatuation. The absolute maddening rage that envelops Qais due to his love and longing for Laila is crucial to the story's narrative.
Therefore, it came as a shocking surprise to me when Sajid Ali, the director of the 2018 film ‘Laila Majnu’ decided to showcase this crucial plot point through a song. Sajid’s Laila Majnu is set in the valley of Kashmir where Qais and Laila are the children of two rival politicians. After Laila is taken away from him, Qais waits for half a decade to reunite with Laila. When Qais is kept waiting, the affluent son of a powerful politician adorns rags and heads to the mountains in search of a version of Laila that never actually existed. The word ‘Hafiz’ literally means someone who has memorized the Quran. The song begins with the phrase ‘Koi fikar nahi hai, koi garaz nahi, bas ishq hua hai koi maraz nahi’.
The visuals showcase Qais who has run away from home and is wandering the mountains. After awaiting Laila’s return for so long, Qais starts to hallucinate and envisions the ideal version of Laila that doesn’t even exist. He plays with her, cooks for her, and makes love to her, not realizing that he is doing with air molecules whatever he is doing. Slowly as the song progresses, Qais loses a sense of right and wrong. He forgets he hails from the upper echelon of the Indian society and resorts to petty thievery to make ends meet at his forest shack. In between, we get random montages of the real Laila who is a mess and miles away from the cheerful and full of love Laila that Qais turned Majnu now envisions.
The added beauty of the song is that in the six-minute song, the word ‘Hafiz’ is uttered precisely at the 4th-minute mark when finally Qais has become ‘Majnu’ and has earned the title of ‘Hafiz’, his sole religion being Laila.
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