Pratham Dhar Dhyan, a song from Umrao Jaan — running in theatres in 4K restoration — invokes Allah, Nizamuddin Auliya, Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and Krishna in the same breath
A digitally restored version of Muzaffar Ali’s 1981 movie, Umrao Jaan, was re-released in theatres across India on June 27. Over a week after its re-release, the movie is still being screened, with nostalgic elderly and middle-aged people and some curious youngsters flocking to watch it.
I watched Umrao Jaan for the first time recently in a theatre. My earlier exposure to the film had only been through its songs on the radio, on black-and-white television sets, and later on YouTube.
There is not a single thing in Umrao Jaan one can find fault with. Everything is excellent — the direction by Muzaffar Ali; the music by Khayyam; the central character’s songs sung by Asha Bhosle; the songs written by Shahryar; the choreography of Gopi Krishan and Kumudini Lakhia); and the costumes designed by Subhashini Ali.
A hymn-like song
Rekha, who essays the role of Umrao Jaan superlatively, looks ethereal. Her youth and dusky complexion complement her excellent acting. Her performance won her the Best Actress honour at the National Film Awards and the Filmfare Awards. (At both these awards, the movie was adjudged as having the best music direction. Khayyam had said that when he was offered Umrao Jaan, he was apprehensive that comparisons would be made with Pakeezah, another movie based on courtesans’ life.)Also read: Muzaffar Ali interview: ‘Art in India needs a breath of fresh air and freedom’
Amid the film’s teasing songs (Dil Cheez Kya Hai and In Ankhon Ki Masti) and the poignant ones (Justju Jiski Thi, Kahe Ko Byahe Bides and Yeh Kya Jagah Hai Doston), one number stands out — Pratham Dhar Dhyan, which is sung in multiple ragas.
Pratham Dhar Dhyan, a hymn-like song based on traditional poetry, features the music-and-dance training of young girls brought — kidnapped in Umrao Jaan’s case — to the kotha of Khanum Jaan (played by Shaukat Kaifi, the wife of poet Kaifi Azmi). Umrao Jaan (whose given name was Amiran) and Bismillah Jaan (Prema Narayan) are shown being tutored in singing by Khan Saheb, played by Bharat Bhushan.
Embodies the composite culture
The song, beginning with ‘Allah’, at once moves to Dinesh (the Sun God) and to the Hindu divine trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh. It later invokes Nizamuddin Auliya, the revered Sufi saint who lived in the 13th and 14th centuries, to help overcome difficulties. It asks for good thoughts and prays to Shankar to appear, since nothing will succeed if people do not bow at His feet.
Pratham Dhar Dhyan, sung by Ustad Ghulam Mustafa Khan and others, thrice mentions Krishna’s frolics in Braj, where he was born and spent his early years.
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The ethos, characters and culture of Umrao Jaan the movie are Muslim. Khan Saheb, the music teacher hired by Khanum Jaan, is Muslim. But the training given to the future courtesans has both Hindu and Muslim elements, as seen in Pratham Dhar Dhyan, which invokes Allah and Hindu gods.
The song embodies the Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb — a composite culture that unites Hindus and Muslims. This syncretism embraces the traditions, practices, architecture, music, arts, and cuisines of both faiths. It does not recognise any notions of “us versus them” or “we are better than them.”
The song reflects the acceptance and respect people of different faiths had for one another in mid-19th century, when Umrao Jaan is set. Such goodness survived well into the 20th century.
Collective heritage
In a Jaimala Gold programme he recorded for Vividh Bharati, filmmaker and writer Kamal Amrohi (1918-93) shared a memory from his childhood. He spoke about a man with a flowing beard who came to live on an upper floor of the building where he and his family resided. His appearance and demeanour were so much like a Muslim that everybody assumed he was one. Young Kamal’s mother asked him and other boys to approach the “maulvi sahab” to see if he would teach them ayats (verses) from the Quran.
Sure, the elderly man with a flowing beard replied to the boys. But he clarified he was not a maulvi — he was a Hindu, a Brahmin. That did not matter to Kamal Amrohi’s traditional family.
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In those days, Amrohi said, Hindus and Muslims were well versed in each other’s scriptures and respected one another. Hindi, Urdu and Sanskrit were not languages of any single faith; they were part of everyone’s heritage across northern and central India.
Sahir Ludhianvi captured this spirit aptly in a song he wrote for the 1959 movie Dhool Ka Phool:
Quran na ho jis mein woh mandir nahin tera
Geeta na ho jis mein, woh haram tera nahin hai
(The temple that doesn’t have the Quran is not yours
The holy place that lacks the Geeta is not yours)
Sahir described artificial divisions thus in a qawwali he penned for Dharmputra (1961):
Yeh shaikh-o-barhaman ke jhagde
Sab na-samjhi ki baaten hai
Humne to hai bas itna jaana
Chahe yeh maano chahe woh maano
(These quarrels between Muslims and Hindus are stupidities
All we know is that it doesn’t matter whether you follow this or that)
One hopes Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb, shaped by the Bhakti and Sufi movements, will not be drowned by the relentless weaponisation of religion, language, food, and other things not worth fighting over. Is that too much to expect in an India increasingly dominated by philistines?
