Ten of my favourite ‘Housework Songs’

This needs some explaining. I don’t mean songs that extol the virtues of doing housework (as someone who does more housework than the average middle class Indian woman, I cannot imagine ever extolling the virtues or joys of housework—it’s possibly the most thankless, relentless and utterly monotonous job out there). But the monotony of housework, the fact that you can get nearly all of it done without really applying your mind or having to concentrate, means that you are free to do something else. Especially something musical.

My mother-in-law invariably turns on the radio and listens to songs as she goes about her work. But my mother, from as far back as I can remember, used to sing. As she went about dusting and the cooking and whatnot, I’d hear her singing. She still has a wonderful voice, and back in her heyday, it was stunning—and her repertoire was amazing, all the way from hymns to hits by Elvis and Jim Reeves (and some old Hindi songs: as lullabies, she sang O mere pyaar aaja to my sister, and Yehi woh jagah hai to me).  I too, when I’m doing housework—especially when I’m cooking—sometimes sing. All sorts of songs.

So, too, do a fair number of people onscreen. Here, then, are ten songs that feature people singing as they go about doing housework. Besides my usual criterion, about the film in question being a pre-70s one that I’ve seen—I’ve imposed one more rule: that the person should be doing some work in the course of the song (this is why Kismat ki hawa kabhi naram doesn’t feature on my list; while Bhagwan’s character is in a kitchen, surrounded by pots and pans and even wearing a chef’s cap, he never uses any of those for anything remotely connected to housework).

Continue reading

Ten of my favourite Khwaab/Sapna songs

Some months back, I was listening to a music programme on the radio, and heard a song I hadn’t heard for ages: the title song from Dreamgirl. Once upon a time, a six- or seven-year old me used to love Kisi shaayar ki ghazal, not just because it sounded good, but because to me, Hema Malini, in all those frilly, frothy dresses was just—oh, gorgeous. This time, I heard the song with a warm sense of nostalgia; and it struck me that dreams have been, for a long time now, an important part of Hindi cinema. And of Hindi film songs.

For one, there are several songs which are set completely in people’s dreams. The heroine (or the hero) goes to sleep and dreams of singing a song along with the beloved. Then, there are songs which fit the very specific cinematic style known as the dream sequence: a dream which does not require anybody to be really asleep (though some of the best dream sequences in cinema history do involve people who are asleep). In a dream world, there can be little semblance to reality: special effects, grand backdrops, feats that people would not achieve in real life—all come to the fore, and are celebrated, in dream sequences. Look at Ghar aaya mera pardesi, for instance.

And then, there are the literal ‘dream songs’, songs which talk about dreams. Dreams in which the beloved features, dreams about a rosy future alongside the love of one’s life. (It’s interesting that dreams, in the context of Hindi film lyrics, almost always seem to refer to happy dreams, never nightmares. Those dreams may be shattered, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t wonderful to start with).

Continue reading