WAQT NE KIYA KYA HASEEN

Song 98:

When it came to melancholy songs of pain and remorse, Geeta Dutt's voice sliced the heart like a sugar-coated sledgehammer. The passage of time, estranged ties, two hearts that once beat as one had found their individual paths. Their conflicting ideologies created a chasm so deep that there was no looking back. Geeta Dutt at such times could temper her seductive lilt with sombre pathos. The mood was reflective, introspective. Could one have avoided this?

Where were the days when they could tide over all differences with good humour and immense love and empathy? Nothing was permanent. Nothing is permanent. People meet, attracted to each other like two charged atoms in the vast universe. They converge for some time, reflecting each other's glory, energising each other, feeding off each other's magnetism and charisma. Sooner or later the magic wears off. People move on. Or rediscover old, familiar patterns. You can shed some tears. Or harden and become cynical. You can only tell yourself-never again.

Geeta Dutt sailed through this expressive song written by Kaifi Azmi and composed by S D burman, that defined an epoch of winning and losing. There were no victory laps if your loved one was not there to share it with you. No matter how much you had wanted that milestone, when the one who mattered the most did not share your joy, the victory was incomplete, those bouquets were but paper flowers, kaghaz ke phool......

AE CHAND ZARA CHHUP JA

Song 97:


Sometimes full moon appeared not after 28 days but an eternity. Too much time had elapsed in dark despondency. Those were dark days. With stark choreographies and grim screenplays. There had been no hope anywhere in the near future. The diva had almost turned into a Dresden doll, ashen, lifeless. She had torn herself from her dreams and lived propped on a shelf like a trophy of some sort. The weather outside had no effect on her, nor did any elements of nature. And just when the world seemed to have closed its doors to any semblance of wondrous magic, the moon shone one day in all it's glory. It's beauty was so aching, that a tear appeared on the doll's eyelids and trickled down her cheeks. Her painted visage seemed smudged but those kohl filled eyes looked real now, not measured to fine perfection to please anyone.. These eyes had lustre and glimmer, dreams and desires.

She urged the moon to go hide somewhere for a while, for its maddening effect was rendering her speechless. And Boy did she have a lot to say! She had so much to share, so much to unburden, to uncover and express. She wanted him all ears, listening, consoling, cajoling, coaxing out all her secrets. Those tales that lay buried deep in her heart could fill many nights. Once she had told him all, only then would she be in a position to admire the moon again. Only then would her poems flow like rivers, her words would dance uninhibited. On his manly shoulders, she could rest her head and forget all worries. She knew he would make her feel at home anywhere. Then every night would be full moon night. Every night would be something to look forward to. Just for tonight she wanted the blinding moon to go hide somewhere.....