A Pakistani Cowboy Movie with One Nice Song
BySiraj Khan
Dubai
Living in Karachi, it was not until early 1965 that I was able to watch an Urdu film with my family. In those days, most kids were not allowed to watch Urdu films. I say Urdu because there was no distinction then between Indian or Pakistani films and at home the same rules applied to both. However, my parents respected my inclination (or perhaps obsession) towards cowboys and Indians (as in American) and apart from ready access to comics, I got my first imported cowboy outfit, complete with a gun, holster and sheriff’s star for my ninth birthday. I was also fortunate to be allowed to watch many western movies with my cousins and friends, often as reward for getting good grades. Thus I managed to watch The Lone Ranger, Gunsmoke, Rio Bravo, The Alamo, Zorro, Last Train from Gun Hill and others at a fairly young age.
However, Urdu films continued to remain beyond access and my only contact with the desi film industry was restricted to radio and the few 78 rpm records which we could play on the gramophone. The 1965 war brought with it new barriers and rules to follow.
It was in this scenario that there occurred an interesting incident. It was perhaps mid-1961 when our domestic help Farooq told me in hushed tones “Bhaiyya Ji, eknaya cowboy filamchalrahahaiaajkal”. Rather impressed (and surprised) by his knowledge of western films, I asked him the name. He replied Bara Bajay. Noticing perhaps the surprised look on my face, he said “12 o klaak”. My surprise turned into utter disbelief when he further revealed that the movie was actually Pakistani. You could have knocked me down with a feather.
I quickly took charge of the situation. Having ranked first in class and with my 10th birthday approaching, I made a compelling case to leverage an approval to watch this Pakistani cowboy film, which was to be my (advance) birthday gift. I managed to get permission (with a lot of difficulty) only to find that none of my friends wanted to waste money on what they considered junk. So I had to buy a ticket for Farooq from my pocket money and off we went to Taj Mahal cinema for the weekend matinee show.
Bara Bajay, despite being black and white, had a lot to offer. A strange wild west landscape where cowboys spoke Urdu and Punjabi, eating paan and mangoes, drinking lassi, and hero Alauddin wearing jeans and cowboy boots, riding his horse Toofan and even singing songs to win the heart of his charming lady Neelo, who had many of her own songs to present as well. Alauddin’s quick-on-the-draw skills could easily put the good, bad and the ugly to sleep. As a sharp-shooter he knocked down seven bottles kept at equal distances with a black scarf covering his eyes. He was fearless and had the reputation of killing an advancing tiger by shooting it between its eyes. At the final showdown on Bara Bajay, the fearless Alauddin had to face no less than six villainous gunslingers who had become quite a nuisance in town, using both his flashy revolvers on a dusty street. Neelo stood close by and watched her man finish off the thugs in a flash and then cheerfully put her arms around her daring beloved.
The film deserved far more credit than I, having watched many Hollywood flicks, gave it — considering that they had made a cowboy film right there on the outskirts of Karachi rather than going to Texas. My father was anxious to know of my experience. My response took him by complete surprise. “Movie wasn’t much, but it had one nice song”.
I could remember it easily because I had heard it on the radio several times, unaware until then that it was from Bara Bajay. This takes us to the rest of my story.... the Page Two.
A young Indian Muslim lady called Naazli was doing her MA at Karachi University. In those days KU had many foreign students, especially Indians, Arabs and Iranis. She once sang a few songs at a university cultural event, as an amateur (shauqia) singer, with no aspirations of going anywhere beyond her casual, ad hoc singing adventures. She must have unknowingly knocked somebody’s socks off there, because composers Lal Mohammed and Iqbal soon caught up with her and convinced her to sing for Bara Bajay. She did not want her family to find out that she was singing for a film while in Pakistan for her higher studies. However, the composers persevered and Naazli finally gave in, singing two songs under the assumed name of Nishi Kumari.
I do not remember the title of the second song but it was the first one that I told my father about. Thanks to the Internet, at least the audio is out there for all to enjoy, at this YouTube link: http://youtu.be/_RgOLY1kyx0.
I am still struck by Nishi’s soulful voice and how effortlessly she went through the song — rather than singing it, she has simply glided through it and done in 2 1/2 minutes flat, with an impact that in my case has lasted 50+ years.
Unfortunately, Bara Bajay was her first and last experience in singing for a film. She completed her Master’s and returned to India, never to sing again in the public domain. Nishi got married, later migrated to Canada and passed away in 2007.
Do listen to the song that struck the chord of a trigger-happy cowboy so many years ago. YouTube has two uploads of Haargaihaargaitoseydillagake. This is the other one:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGzYsEg53S8
Siraj Khan is a connoisseur of film music who is passionate about bridge building through art and culture. Khansaheb2@aol.com www.opnayyar.org
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