Bekas Pe Karam Kijiye....

This piece had been planned and I had completed the research on it before February 6, 2022. The painful tidings of that day put every other thought out of my mind (and also the minds of countless others like me). Having now learnt to live with the loss, I thought of working on this piece and publishing it to mark the first anniversary of this blog. Needless to say, it also pays homage to the greatest singer it has been my privilege to hear.

‘Bekas pe Karam Kijiye’ is the wonderful Na'at that is sung by Nadira (who is later rechristened Anarkali by Badshah Akbar to celebrate her beauty) in the blockbuster Bollywood epic Mughal-e-Azam (1960). With a budget of Rs. 1.5 crore and a brilliant star cast, the film collected an estimated Rs. 11 crore at the box office. Music director Naushad Ali’s musical score for this film, featuring 12 songs, is among the best in Hindi film music and has the scope and majestic quality to match the grandeur of the theme and cinematography.

The screenplay was everything that the romantic hearts of Indian audience could desire. The story of the doomed love between a prince and a court dancer with its Cinderella-like overtones appealed to the sentimentality of the viewers. The pain of unfulfilled love is hauntingly portrayed through the enchanting Madhubala’s spectacular performance; in fact, so dazzling is her performance in this movie that Dilip Kumar appears wooden in comparison.

One of the best melodies of this wonderful soundtrack was the Na'at ‘Bekas pe Karam Kijiye’. A Na’at, in Islam, is a song or poem composed in praise of the Prophet Mohammed. The devotees pray to Mohammed to be their intermediary with Allah. The divine is out of reach, but Mohammed is, as are indeed all prophets or holy men, uniquely positioned – they can fully sympathise with human problems, are sufficiently above human frailties to be able to inspire awe in the devotees, are conscious enough of the divine plan to be able to put human suffering in perspective, and to console devotees by stressing on the transitory nature of all human suffering and life.

Yet, while devotees may understand the philosophical speculations that teach them to deal courageously and patiently with life’s difficulties, being only human they look for some reduction of those difficulties. This Na'at is in the same tradition. Composed in Raag Kedar, the lyrics show Nadira’s extreme distress expressed through Lata’s soulful rendition. The Na'at begins with the beautifully evocative couplet —

ऐ मेरे मुश्किलकुशा, फ़रियाद है, फ़रियाद है

आपके होते हुए दुनिया मेरी बरबाद है

The couplet seems to express a disbelief in the fact that though her distress is capable of being ameliorated, nothing is being done to do so. Yet, the couplet is ambiguous: it could just as easily be addressed to Salim, the man whose love has brought her to this pass. It was her trust in him that led her to defy convention and the instinct for self-preservation and she’s now paying for her defiance by being imprisoned and shackled with heavy chains like a dangerous criminal.

As Salim cannot, or will not help her, she places her trust in a higher power, someone who is known for his benevolence and greatness: the Prophet. The mukhda is unambiguous: it is the lord of Medina, the Prophet, who is now being addressed. Islam may be unique in that its followers do not equate the prophets with the divine. The Prophet was on a plane very much higher than that of mere mortals, but he was mortal all the same. The Divine is too impersonal, too distant, to bother with mortal problems. The two verses of this Na'at evoke a picture of impending doom where the only ray of hope is the Prophet’s mercy. He may intercede on her behalf with Allah even if Salim cannot do so with his stony-hearted father. ‘Bekas pe Karam Kijiye’ is therefore a Na'at, not a ‘Hamd’, which is a song or poem that praises Allah himself. A Hamd implies complete submission to the will of Allah. The use of Na'at instead of Hamd may show that Nadira is not without hopes of still achieving her love.

The conflation of love and devotion, the ambiguity of whether it is Salim who is being addressed or the Prophet, are also reminiscent of the sentiments expressed in the poetry of the Bhakti movement. The lord and the beloved are inextricably linked; the devotee has a direct and emotional connection to god; and the poetry expresses defiance of the social conventions that seek to stratify society along the lines of caste and class.

Raag Kedar in which the Na'at is composed is also interesting for its associations. Named for Shiva the ascetic, it has a quality of renunciation — one automatically moves towards the contemplation of the divine and the hereafter when one hears this Raag. Shiva is the destroyer, or the redeemer; the one who ends life, but who also ends the suffering.

Raag Kedar was also one of the favourite Raagas in the repertoire of Mughal musicians. It was written about and analysed in 17th century musical treatises and pictorially represented in raagmala paintings. Badshah Akbar, a well-known patron of the arts and music, must also have been familiar with it. ‘Kedar’ was also sometimes pronounced as ‘Qadir’ — the mispronunciation may have been intentional because ‘Qadir’ is one of the names of Allah and means omnipotent or all-powerful. The change of name thus manages to retain the original associations of the Raag.

Both the Shuddha and the Teevra Madhyam are used in this Raag, although the Teevra Madhyam is not sounded as frequently as the Shuddha. The Shuddha swar may be seen to symbolise the Prophet who is closer and more accessible as compared to the Teevra Madhyam (which may be said to symbolise the Almighty): it is present, certainly, but is more distant, higher and therefore, may be said to be less accessible to mere mortals.

Kedar is sung at night. The Raagas featuring Madhyam swaras veer toward the increased use of Shuddha Madhyam as the hours of the night progress — the use of Kedar here thus seems to indicate an awareness of approaching darkness, the end of life, the sense of looming destruction. The second verse paints just such a frightening picture of the approaching apocalypse, the ‘pralay’. Being only human, Nadira begs for help before the final dissolution.

So sublime are both the composition and Lata’s rendition of it that this Na'at is often played only for its religious associations in Pakistan. What more is required to prove the pure religious fervour it expresses?