Abstract
Har Mandir Singh ‘Hamraaz’ is the editor of the six-volume Hindi Film Geet Kosh (Encyclopedia of Hindi Film Songs), which lists the names and details of nearly every Hindi film song produced in India across almost seven decades. 1 This collection is the most comprehensive source of Hindi film songs available, scholars and music fans regularly consult it. Hamraaz also edits the Listeners’ Bulletin (October 1971–present day), a Hindi-language quarterly magazine (previously bimonthly) that features news and articles about Hindi film songs and radio programs. These two publications are the product of decades of not only meticulous research but also a deeply felt passion for Hindi film songs.
This article features excerpts from three separate interviews I conducted with Hamraaz: two in-person interviews on 6 September 2016 (in Lucknow) and 9 July 2022 (in Kanpur) and a shorter phone conversation on 11 April 2023. Given my interest in radio, our conversations centred on how radio programs that featured film songs inspired his work for the song encyclopedia. I have edited the original interviews for flow, length and clarity. I have also added in-text notes and endnotes and combined sections from the three different recordings. My main effort has been to preserve the tone and style of the original recordings. Hamraaz corrected drafts and approved the final copy. During the interviews, we spoke in Hindi – or, perhaps more accurately, in Hindustani – and the translations featured here are my own.
There are important connective threads across the interview. First, Hamraaz’s love for Hindi film songs is undoubtedly the leading theme. He tells us that he once took a train from Kanpur to Delhi just to ask a friend’s sister about a song. He tells us that he spent most afternoons listening to Hindi film songs on the radio and makes sure to convey that his encyclopedia was a labour of love. Hamraaz’s commitment to the documentation of Hindi film songs is as remarkable as it is unique. Hamraaz completed this work while working full-time for a bank in Kanpur, the industrial North Indian city where he had grown up and where he later raised a family. As he explained in a separate unrecorded conversation with me: ‘This was the work of an institution, not of a single individual.’ That he was able to complete it is a testament to his dedication.
Hamraaz learned to appreciate music from his mother and grandmother, who performed devotional songs during religious festivals. Interestingly, Hamraaz’s own relationship to film songs also seems to have a mystical quality; I think this is what he means when he explains that, for him, music ‘was not just entertainment’. Hamraaz’s memory also deserves attention. He remembers not only the lyrics and tunes of thousands of songs but also verbatim comments made by radio announcers, as well as the text of his own submissions to radio programs almost half a century later. And yet, while his memory and dedication are exceptional by any standard, his devotion to film songs is part of a wider cultural trend.
Scholars have long reflected on the profound love that Hindi film songs enjoy in South Asia and among diasporic communities. 2 This passion, I believe, can be accurately described as a kind of Hindi film songphilia. 3 As Hamraaz explains, he did enjoy not just hearing melodic material and poetic lyrics but also learning (and memorising) as much as he could about the songs and their makers and sharing this interest with fellow Hindi film song lovers. It was this hunger for knowledge – and for sharing his knowledge with fellow Hindi film song lovers – that ultimately inspired his Hindi Film Geet Kosh volumes. The songphilia that he describes is, of course, related to cinephilia, which scholars have shown is embedded in both the production and the reception of cinema in the Indian subcontinent (Gopalan, 2002; Sunya, 2022). But cinephilia and Hindi film songphilia, as Hamraaz himself reminds us, are not the same thing. Hamraaz notes: ‘I do like films but the music, the songs – listening to the songs – that was what I really liked. … my “craze” was mostly for the music. I am a music lover.’
Radio’s important mediatory role is another prominent theme. Elsewhere, I have discussed how Hindi film song programs, and in particular, Radio Ceylon’s programs, encouraged listeners to develop what Jonathan Sterne (2003) calls ‘audile techniques’, systematic and learned forms of listening – in this case, listening to film songs. 4 Radio broadcasters trained listeners to decouple songs from films, recognise the voices of playback singers and music composers’ styles, and to associate personal characteristics with singers and composers (Huacuja Alonso, 2023). Hamraaz brings attention to these important audile techniques. For example, he recounts how he developed the idea of a Geet Kosh while participating in the program Vakya Geetanjali (sentence-poem), for which listeners submitted a sentence-poem of seven or eight words and each word of the sentence-poem had to be the first word of a song that would be played in the program. Hamraaz began to systematically document songs in part to ensure that he could write creative submissions for this fun radio program.
Another important theme in these interviews is Hamraaz’s close-knit relationship with broadcasters. Hamraaz notes that broadcasters were celebrities and that their celebrity status was, in some cases, comparable to that of other cinematic aural stars, including playback singers: ‘I liked announcers as much as I liked Lata’s songs …. The announcer would become aziz (cherished) to me.’ Most notable is how clearly Hamraaz remembered announcers’ voices and their own distinctive broadcasting styles, decades after their retirement. After one of the interviews, Hamraaz listened to some of my recordings of interviews with broadcasters. Hearing the voice of the Urdu Service broadcaster S.M. Shafeeq, with whom Hamraaz had long lost contact, brought him a great deal of joy.
Finally, I wish to close this introductory essay with a note about the origins of this publication. Robinson explains in Hungry Listening (2020) that he is much less interested in writing about his interlocutors than writing with them. This essay is inspired by a similar desire to write with but also by my awareness of my role as a ‘guest’ in a rich sound world. Hamraaz’s work, as well as his generosity, enabled me and many other scholars to pursue projects on film songs and radio listening practices. It is my hope that this interview will showcase his expertise and scholarly contributions.
Har Mandir Singh with the complete set of the encyclopedic Hindi Film Geet Kosh, Volumes 1-6. Photograph taken by Isabel Huacuja Alonso, Kanpur, 2022.
When I was about 13–14, there was a sweets shop in front of my house, and they played the radio there. They played the program Binaca Geetmala and people would gather to listen. There would be a large crowd. You know, I am not that big a fan of Geetmala myself. I liked other programs a lot better.
Anyways, by 14–15, I was hooked on the radio. This was a kind of ‘training period’. 5 I would listen very carefully to the radio, especially to Radio Ceylon’s programs. I became very interested in Hindi film songs and in knowing everything about them – who was the singer, the music director and the film [that the song had been featured in]. When the announcer would not share all the information about a certain song, I would become restless. One time, I went to Delhi [from Kanpur], just to know the name of the film in which a song I liked had been featured. I thought my friend’s sister who had moved to Delhi after marriage would know. So, I got on a train – without a ticket. It turns out she also did not know. I returned to Kanpur sad.
I didn’t like the program Hafte Ke Shrota (Listener of the Week) because only the type of listeners who wanted to hear their names participated in that program.
I also wrote regularly for the program Panghat Par (By the Well’s Edge). 12 I wrote a Geeton-bhari-kahani (Story-full-of-song) for that program. I remember one story where I included six sad songs by Lata Mangeshkar. One song was from the film Dulari (1949), one from Shirin Farhaad (1956) and one from Barsaat (1949) – that one was a rather famous song ‘Bichhde hue pardesi ik baar to aana tu’. 13
I was very attached to these songs. And I wrote a story connecting them. The story was read on the radio and very much liked. I wrote it during that ‘training period’, during my university days.
I graduated in 1972. The results of the exam came out in June 1972. I got a job in the State Bank of India in July 1972 at a salary that could pay for rozi roti [daily expenses]. Soon, I started compiling song details systematically for what later became the Hindi Film Geet Kosh.
Now, I am also remembering that I once went to Agra in January 1971 to meet a Radio Ceylon listener, Vijay Singh Chandel. He gave me a notebook with about 500 pages where he listed the opening lines of songs and all their information alphabetically. I was so happy. So, I made this the starting point of the Hindi Film Geet Kosh. I expanded on that.
I also went to meet Manohar Mahajan, [a Radio Ceylon broadcaster] in Jabalpur when he visited from Sri Lanka in March 1974. I asked him directly if any listener had thought of doing a systematic compilation of Hindi film songs. He said, ‘We at Radio Ceylon also thought about it and thought it would be a very useful thing. But it felt like an impossible task to complete. So, nobody did it.’ That is when I decided I would do it. It was a memorable meeting.
But actually, the idea had occurred to me earlier in my college days, while writing a sentence-poem for the program Vakya Geetanjali, where listeners submitted a sentence-poem of seven or eight words. Each word was the first word of a song, which the announcer would play. That program was on Sunday from 7:30 to 8:00 pm.
I used to participate in that program, though occasionally. I remember one of the poems I wrote for it.
The sentence was: Asha ke deep jalaakar birhan baithi aas lagaakar. 14
The songs I submitted were:
Vakya Geetanjali, a very popular program, was important for me because I began to include more songs in my exercise notebooks to use for this program.
After securing a job in July 1972, I began to write everything down systematically. I used my exercise notebook as a kind of base. Later, I devoted a single sheet for each film which I would fill out with the information about respective songs.
I also went to the National Film Archive of India (Pune) in June 1974. I noted information about songs from the film song booklets found there. The archive was housed in an old hut-like building then. Two of my friends helped me there. During my stay in Bombay, I met a few singers and music directors. Nobody knew me then in Bombay. Kanpur is not a culture centre. But that is how I began gathering information for the Hindi Film Geet Kosh. I cross-checked everything. I never trusted people’s memory, not even today.
In the bank, I worked hard from 10 am to 5 pm. After 5, I forgot everything about the bank. The rest of the time was mine, and I devoted it to Hindi film song compilation work.
I wasn’t well known. But slowly people began to realise that something unique was being compiled. People who understood it valued it. Some helped me too.
I recall that in 1971, I came to know about Feroze Rangoonwalla who had published an Indian Film Index (1912–1967), followed by Indian Filmography (1897–1969). Indian Filmography carried titles of films with names of the director, music director and artists, but the songs were missing. Many films listed did not have related information. But this was a foundation I used to expand to the desired level.
Girish Chandra Suman, a senior radio listener and friend from Aligarh, had a printing press, and he printed about 4,000 copies of the compilation sheets that I created. I used one single page for each film where I would write the names of the music director, song titles, singers, etc. When I heard a song on Radio Ceylon, I would write down the song on the corresponding film’s sheet. When I visited the archive in Pune, I cross-checked the information from the film song booklets available there. I would write the opening line, the singer’s name, the music director and the lyricist. If the gramophone disc number was available, I would include that too. And when I felt I had collected sufficient information for a particular period I would publish it.
The first volume I published covered the decade 1951–1960 in Volume III.
As you know, I did not publish the volumes in chronological order. After Volume III (1951–1960), I published Volume II (1941–1950), followed by Volume IV (1961–1970), Volume I (1931–1940), Volume V (1971–1980) and Volume VI (1981–1985). In between Volumes III and II, I published the Mukesh Geet Kosh (Encyclopedia of Mukesh Songs) with the full text of all the songs compiled and collected painstakingly by Harish Raghuwanshi. Harish also helped me a lot with the Hindi Film Geet Kosh.
Volume III (1951–1960) came out in early 1980 and people began to know me. There was quite a bit of surprise that someone from Kanpur would present such a compilation. Dr Yasin Dalal (Rajkot) later disclosed during a meeting that when he ordered the book, he was afraid the package would arrive full of pebbles. I asked him why. He said it was because I mailed it from Kanpur, a notoriously industrial city – with mills and leather industries, not a place known for its cultural contributions. Certainly not then. So, it was a bit surprising, rather unbelievable, for people that someone from Kanpur has done this kind of work.
I visited Bombay in February 1984 for the release event of Volume II, I met Lata Mangeshkar at her Prabhu Kunj residence. The book was released on the 25th of February, and I met her on the 24th. When I met her, I was able to confirm that she did not sing for the film Seedha Rasta (Straight Road, 1941), something I had not been able to confirm previously. I invited her to the book release function. Naushad was going to be the chief guest. So, you won’t believe what happened. She asked me directly: ‘How many songs have I sung?’ I told her and she clearly didn’t like it. She didn’t come to the book release function.
But the release function was a great event. The room was full. 500 people came. Naushad was the chief guest. Zohrabai Ambalawali, Bulo C. Rani and Sudha Malhotra also came. The prominent singer Raj Kumari sang during this event. She sang a song from Bawre Nain (Crazy Eyes, 1950) ‘Sun bairi balam sach bol re’, 22 and from Mahal (Castle, 1949), ‘Ghabra ke jo ham sar ko takraye to achchha ho’. 23 Her voice had not changed after decades.
You know, Raj Kumari sang many songs that were not properly credited. When I met her in Bombay, she was not in a good financial condition. Naushad saw her performing in the chorus for the song ‘Mere pairon mein ghunghroo bandha de to phir meri chaal dekh le’ 24 (in the film Sunghursh (Battle, 1968).
During the release of Vol II, in addition to Ameen Sayani, four former announcers of Radio Ceylon attended: Gopal Sharma, Shiv Kumar Saroj, Manohar Mahajan and Ripusudan Kumar Ailawadi.
When I published Vol IV, Amarjeet Singh Kohli, who already did a lot of film music programs, told me to release the volume in Delhi, and I agreed. The function was held on 7th July 1986, a special date that celebrated exactly 90 years since the Lumiere Brothers showcased films in Bombay. It was also the music director Anil Biswas’s birthday. He released the volume.
One of my best relationships [with film music personalities] was with Anil Biswas. I was finally able to track him down in Delhi in 1979 and remained in touch until his passing in 2003. I wrote about our conversations in the Listeners’ Bulletin. In fact, that is how people learned that he was alive. He lived a kind of gumnam [hidden] life. He faced a very big tragedy; his brother and son died suddenly. He left Bombay and went to Delhi in the early 1960s and worked for All India Radio.
When I released Vol I in 1988 in Bombay, you won’t believe that the most prominent personalities of the thirties like Firoze Dastoor, Naushad Sahab, Madhulal D. Master, Sitara Devi, Raj Kumari etc. were present. It was really a memorable get-together for veterans.
I published Vol V (1971–1970) in March 1991.
When I started listening to songs on the radio, Binaca Geetmala was not my favourite because it included new hits from the 1970s onwards and my interest was never that.
In any case, Bishwanath Chatterjee, who had been very helpful, insisted that the ‘show must go on’. If you check the volumes, I published Vol V in his name.
And finally, I took on Vol VI as a personal challenge. And I wish to continue working for as long as I am alive. That I don’t know the details of the songs [by memory] from these later decades…well that is another matter, but the work is always done with full dedication. I am working on three new volumes: 1986–1990, 1991–1995 and 1996–2000.
I am also working on computerising all the data I have.
Can I share something? Some announcers gave wrong information on the radio. With all my respect, but there were mistakes made by announcers. I could never fully rely on them.
But Veer Bahadur Singh Jhala gifted me his entire collection of about 900 records in June 1985, and I still have them. But I mostly listened to songs on the radio.
Take S.M. Shafeeq from the Urdu Service. Oh, I really loved his voice and his way of presenting songs with related Urdu couplets.
I was able to meet him at the radio station. I don’t remember his face now, to be honest. I met him for about 30 minutes. But I remember his voice.
Ummeed ke dilkash panghat par hum shama jalaey baithe hain
Tum wada kar ke bhool gaey hum aas lagaey baithe hain. 25
He was a different type of broadcaster. I also liked his selection of songs. I liked other broadcasters’ voices. Vijalaxmi from Radio Ceylon. She had a very good voice. I am still in touch with her.
But my mother and my maternal grandmother were excellent singers. They sang for religious festivals. She sang shabads. My grandmother – Roop Kaur – she had the entire Guru Granth Sahib memorised, all 1,430 pages. I think that is how I developed a soft corner for music. They would play music and I would listen.
With some friends, I started a radio club in Kanpur called Flying Listeners Club. Most people named their clubs after their city or town, but we didn’t. K. N. Singh Bhatia, a friend who was a part of the club, suggested that I should take charge of the club publication.
It was not very expensive then to do it. So, that is how this publication started in October 1971. It had four pages of 9 × 11 inch and was written in Hindi. The original name of this monthly publication was Radio News. Our plan was just to write about the programs of Radio Ceylon, AIR’s Urdu Service and even Vividh Bharti. But later, I felt that I could write about Hindi film songs – about lyricists and music directors. I thought I should also publish informative articles for music lovers.
At that time, radio club members would meet weekly. We also communicated with other radio listeners and music lovers via letters. We made ‘pen friends’. People would ask me about songs and singers. But they were not very serious. For them, film songs were just a form of entertainment. I took the compilation work I did very seriously. It wasn’t just entertainment. Serious listeners were rare. Most participated in the program only to hear their name on the radio.
For me, the purpose of publishing the Listeners Bulletin was to remain in touch with music lovers. This is why I have continued with it – to stay in touch with music lovers.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.