Ghalib Museum: A Journey into the Life and Legacy of Mirza Ghalib

Mirza Ghalib, one of the greatest poets in the history of Urdu literature, left an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of poetry enthusiasts with his profound and soul-stirring verses. To pay homage to this literary genius and preserve his rich legacy, the Ghalib Museum in Delhi was established. This museum stands as a captivating tribute to the life and works of Mirza Ghalib, offering a mesmerizing journey into the world of poetry and emotions.

The Enigmatic Poet - Mirza Ghalib

Mirza Ghalib, born in Agra in 1797, is renowned for his contribution to Urdu and Persian poetry. His poetry delves deep into the complexities of human emotions, unraveling the joys and sorrows of life, love, and longing. With a unique blend of simplicity and depth, his verses continue to resonate with readers across generations, making him an eternal source of inspiration.

The Ghalib Museum: A Glimpse into History

Located in the historical neighborhood of Ballimaran in Delhi, the Ghalib Museum is housed in the haveli (mansion) where the poet spent the last few years of his life. As visitors step into the museum, they are transported back in time to the era of Ghalib, where the walls seem to echo with the verses of the maestro.

Glimpses of Ghalib's Life

The museum meticulously displays artifacts, manuscripts, and personal belongings of Ghalib, offering a rare insight into the poet's life and the era in which he lived. Visitors can behold original letters penned by Ghalib, along with sketches and paintings depicting various facets of his personality.

The Study Room of Ghalib

The highlight of the museum is the recreation of Ghalib's study room, a serene space where he sought solace and penned his timeless verses. As one steps into this tranquil setting, it's easy to imagine the poet engrossed in his thoughts, creating literary masterpieces that would go on to become the jewels of Urdu poetry.

The Calligraphy Gallery

Ghalib's poetry, revered for its eloquence and beauty, is an art form in itself. The museum houses a splendid collection of calligraphy, featuring verses of Ghalib's poetry artistically presented in various scripts. The visual representation of his words adds a unique charm to the museum and is a treat for both poetry enthusiasts and art connoisseurs.

A Haven for Poetry Lovers

The Ghalib Museum not only honors the great poet but also serves as a gathering place for poetry lovers, scholars, and enthusiasts. Regular events, mushairas (poetry recitals), and seminars are organized, celebrating the timeless appeal of Ghalib's poetry and encouraging young poets to continue his poetic legacy.

Preserving Ghalib's Relevance

The Ghalib Museum is not just a place for history and nostalgia; it remains a living testimony to the relevance and universality of Ghalib's poetry. Through its various initiatives, the museum continues to keep the spirit of Ghalib alive, inspiring countless souls to explore the realm of poetry and artistic expression.

Conclusion

The Ghalib Museum is a sanctuary where the soul connects with the depth of emotions and the beauty of words. It is a tribute to the brilliance of Mirza Ghalib, a poet who immortalized the human experience through his eloquence. As visitors walk out of the museum, they carry with them not just the essence of Ghalib's poetry but also a profound understanding of the power of language to express the inexpressible. The Ghalib Museum stands as a treasure trove of culture and literature, beckoning all those who seek to be touched by the magic of words.

Feb 6th, 2022 - Amrita, Sahir & Imroz.

“Ae Jism Mukkda Hai, Tan Sab Kuch Mukk Janda,

Par Cheteyan Dey Dhaage, Kaayenaati Kana Dey Hunde.

Main Unha Kana Nu Chunagi, Dhageyan Nu Walangi, Te Tenu Main Phir Milangi.”

“When the body perishes, and everything else perishes too;

But the threads of memory are woven with enduring specks.

I will pick these particles, weave the threads, and I will meet you yet again.”

- "Main Tenu Pher Milangi" by Amrita Pritam, Translated by Nirupama Dutt.

Love. An emotion that knows no boundaries, that has made people and broken them, that shows colors of humans unknown to them, also wrote unconventionally heart-wrenching stories. You must have read or heard a gazillion stories about love, from a happily ever after of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice to Shakespeare’s tragic Romeo-Juliet. But I’m going to tell you my favorite love story. A story that is wrecked by unrequited love while the ruins are fortified by an unconditional one. A story of cigarettes, love letters, paintings, passion, and poetry. It's the story of India’s greatest poets and artists. It’s the story of Amrita Pritam, Sahir Ludhianvi, and Imroz.

Our story begins in the year 1935 when a mother-less Amrita Pritam got married to a businessman named Pritam Singh at the young age of 16. No clue of what love is and against her will, this marriage was never the one that was meant to be for Amrita. She always dreamt or could even see a wheatish-colored man, blurry face walk with her all the time through all the things. But she could never figure out who was it. But it was all about to be changed in that mushaira on a cold evening in 1944 when a famous young poet was going to charm his way through Amrita’s heart. In 1944, Amrita attended a mushaira in Preet Nagar where her eyes were lit up when it fell on a shy, reserved Sahir in that dimly lit room. As cliché as it may sound, it was love at first sight of two opposite personalities, fiery, gifted with words and beauty, Amrita whereas insecure about his looks, chain-smoker, adorning talent that knew no bounds Sahir.

This cliché love story had just started and was about to take turns unexpected. After their first meet, Sahir would often visit Amrita’s house to meet her and her father who used to run journals. He would sit across her room and lit up a cigarette and won’t utter a single word. It is said that he would stub the half-smoked cigarette and leave, Amrita would collect the buds and put them in her cupboard to feel close to Sahir. Her love for Sahir knew no bounds while being caged in an unhappy marriage. One day, Sahir walked up to her and handed over a paper. He wrote a poem, “Taj Mahal”. Startled Amrita loved the poem but as she returned the paper, he said,” I’m not here to take this poem back.” And left the poem with her.

In 1947, India was torn by Partition. Amrita fled with her family to Delhi while Sahir reached the shores of then Bombay. She said that while leaving her home, she brought only two possessions that mattered to her the most to Delhi, her daughter, and that paper. While trying to build a life in Delhi, she got a job in All India Radio and kept penning her thoughts as stories and poetry. Meanwhile, the entirety of India was taken by storm by the powerful words of a lyricist no one had before, Sahir Ludhianvi. Movies were now being declared hits if they had songs that were written by him. All this while, they kept writing letters to each other. While Amrita kept showering her love, it was rare to see Sahir reciprocate. You see Sahir’s mind was always clouded and filled with various thoughts. He lived all his life after his mother divorced his abusive father when Sahir was very young. His mother had a stronghold on his life. He was always insecure that he wasn’t good looking, had commitment issues. He could never reciprocate what Amrita had for him, although he kept writing love ballads which are said to be based on their uncanny relationship, a more one-sided relationship. A disheartened Amrita thought that nothing could match the kind of love she had for Sahir but little did she know that there was a man who had dedicated his life for Amrita even without her knowing about him. When she started to hunt for artists to paint her book covers, an artist named Imroz stood there waiting for his chance to come. And that’s how she met Imroz.

As time passed by, Sahir started to drift away from Amrita, blame it on his commitment issues and insecurities, or blame it on destiny. But this had a heavy impact on her. She kept writing while traveling in buses to AIR for her job, which Imroz didn't like. He owned a cycle, so he decided to save money to buy a scooter so that he can drop her to the office and back home. He also painted all the book covers for Amrita. She asked him, “Why did I meet you so late in life?” Imroz, who was 10 years younger than Amrita, said, “Maybe because I came off age late or the money came in late.” Once when he was dropping her children at school, he was challan-ed for triple riding, so he simply decided to buy a car. All this was happening while she was unhappily married to Pritam Singh and still dealing with the ruins of the love of Sahir. But none it mattered to Imroz because for him, she was the one. You see human emotions are too complex to understand, it's never white or black, it’s always grey.

Finally, in 1960 she divorced Pritam Singh breaking the cage of marriage, and moved in with Imroz in their newly built Hauz Khas house where she would live with him for the next 40 years in a live-in relationship till her last breath. Amrita had found a new beacon of happiness and hope in the form of Imroz. They never committed, questioned, or labeled their love for each other. They never got married but stayed together like an inseparable couple. Imroz became Amrita’s shadow, devoted his life to her which came at great costs both personally and professionally. But nothing stood before Amrita for him.

Meanwhile, no one could understand what Sahir was going through or felt. He never told anyone what he felt. He was maybe scared to face his own emotions, or maybe he thought that this pain looked better in poetry than in conversations. Years later, in 1964 when Amrita and Imroz visited then Bombay to meet Sahir, he felt emotions that had no answers. But those emotions were later on crafted into a song in “Dooj Ka Chand” that helps you picture a certain shade of Sahir that he could never speak out:

“Mehfil se uth jaane walo, Tum logo par kya ilzam.

Tum aabad gharo ke vasi, Main awaara aur badnaam.”

“People who leave a happy gathering, What blame can I place on you?

You come from prosperous homes, And I am infamous and delusional.”

As years passed by, Amrita moved on with Imroz by her side, as he made her the subject of every painting he ever painted. While Sahir suffered in his own insecurities, shyness, and issues with loneliness and commitments, making him a victim of his mind. It is said that in 1970 when a famous composer Jaidev visited his house, the composer picked up a dirty cup on the shelf and commented about how it should be cleaned. Sahir yelled at once, “Don’t you dare touch that cup. Amrita drank tea from it the last time she was here.” Sahir never got married to anyone. He passed away in 1980 after building a pedestal in the world of literature that no one will ever get to. Meanwhile, Amrita took her last breath in 2005 with Imroz by her side. As she was about to leave Imroz alone and drift into the afterlife, she wrote one of the most memorable pieces of work she has ever written and you might have heard it for sure, “Main Tenu Pher Milangi” which translates to “I will meet you again.”

Why do I love this story? Because it has something for everyone. If you looking for hope, then you can find in the story of how Amrita was destined to find Imroz, her hope walked up to her. If you looking for ways to deal with your pain, you can find it in how Sahir dedicated his entire ordeal to literature and his work, making pearls out of his tears. If you looking for love, you can look into all of them as all of them loved but in their own ways, and it’s up to you to decide which path you want to walk on. This story is a perfect example of how complex human minds can be. So, all we can do is live our life our way, for if things have to happen, they’ll.

I tried my best to translate. But I urge you all to read it in the Hindustani language first. You might have heard of this piece of art being narrated by Amitabh Bachchan.

Despair drove Saghar Siddiqui, an unsung genius of his time, to seek solace in drink and drugs. Remembering Saghar Siddiqui on his death anniversary.

Muhammad Akhtar 1928-1974 (pseudonym) Saghar Siddiqui was an Urdu poet, in spite of his ruined and homeless alone life, he remained famous and successful till and after his death. when he died, he left nothing but a pet, his dog, who also died on the same foot path where Saghar died a year later.

Saghar Siddiqui was born in 1928 in Ambala (British India) to a well-to-do middle-class family. There are few historic records of Saghar's personal life. He rarely spoke to any one in this regard and most of what is known of him tends to be from witness accounts. Siddiqui was the only child of his parents and spent the early years of his life in Ambala and Saharanpur.

He was home tutored and received his early education from Habib Hassan a family friend. Young Akhtar was much impressed by Habib Hassan, and he got interested in Urdu poetry because of him. Siddiqui started writing poetry as a child. He moved to Amritsar(Punjab), in search of work and used to make wooden combs while writing Urdu poetry. For some time he used Nasir Hijazi as his pen name, but later he switched to Saghar Siddiqui. When 16 years old, he regularly started attending mushairas (poerty recitals) in Jalandhar, Ludhiana and Gurdaspur. In 1947, when he was 19, he migrated to Pakistan during the independence and settled in Lahore. In those days with his slim appearance, wearing pants and boski (yellow silky cloth) shirts, with curly hair, and reciting beautiful ghazals in a melodious voice, he became a huge success. He had some tragic turns in his life. Siddiqui continued to write poetry for the film industry and moved on to publish a literary magazine. The magazine was a critical success but a commercial flop. Disappointed, Saghar shut down the magazine. In his later life, he fell into depression, financially ruined and addicted to drugs.

Siddiqui chose to stay in cheap hotels, rather than settle into a house given by the government to refugees. He would pay the rent with meager amounts earnt by selling his poems to magazines. Sometimes he would have to sell his poetry to other poets for a few rupees. He would use the waste paper spread around to light fires to stay warm during winter nights. Some of these poems were re-sold by these people as their own work.

Within a decade of coming to Pakistan, he became disillusioned as he saw corruption and nepotism being rewarded at the expense of genuine talent. In despair, he turned to morphine, buying it from janitors of hospitals in Lahore. As friends and strangers continued to exploit him, Siddiqui fell further into despair and was soon turned out of hotels and had to live on the street as a beggar. He was often seen along Circular Road of Lahore, and in Anarkali Bazar, Akhbaar Market, Aibak Road, Shah Alami, and around the Data Darbar area. He would often hold mushairas on the footpaths, in candle light. He continued to write poems, though most of them are lost and unpublished.

In early 1974, Siddiqui was found dead on a street corner of Lahore. On 19 July 1974, he was found dead on a roadside in Lahore near alfalah building the mall, at the age of 46. His dead body was found one early morning outside one of the shops. He was buried at the Miani Sahib graveyard. His dog also died a year later, reportedly at the same spot. Despite his shattered life, some of his verses are among the best in Urdu poetry.

The sensitive and gifted teenager was excited by the prospect of becoming a citizen of a newly created country and at once got down to writing a national anthem for it.

زندگی جبر مسلسل کی طرح کاٹی ہے...

جانےکس جرم کی پائی ہے سزا یاد نہیں

آؤ اک سجدہ کریں عالمِ مدہوشی میں...

لوگ کہتے ہیں کہ ساغر کو خدا یاد نہیں

Verses and voices | Art & Culture | thenews.com.pk Faiz Ahmed Faiz has been sung by almost all the leading vocalists. It has been a tradition to sing the poetry of the leading poets – particularly those who are practitioners of the form of ghazal. In Punjabi, the kaafi is so widely sung that many have been forced to draw a relationship between kaafi, the music mode, and kaafi, the poetic genre. The opinion is divided on whether kaafi is named after the poetic form or the poetic form was named after the modal scale. The dastaans, kathas, qissas and the other longer poetical works have been sung over centuries, but it is impossible to tell with certainty when it all started. Probably, in ancient times, when it was found to that the two: poetry and music, have a conjoined existence. In the Persian tradition, it was mostly the longer poems that were sung or recited, but in Urdu, the ghazal soon became the focus. It evolved, over time, into an autonomous music form as well. However, the singing of the nazm as it evolved after the brush with European poetry did not have a ready acceptance. Many of the most valued poets became famous after they were sung by leading vocalists and the reason is not difficult to fathom. Ours is primarily an oral culture where the spoken word has more value and gets instant appreciation. The poetry too was recited or read out loud. There has been a valued tradition of the mushaira here as the words were literally plucked out of the mouth of the poets, in anticipation of rounding off the verse or a couplet and drowned in the cheers and acclamation of appreciation. The same words were sung as numbers by the leading vocalists and became the words or the lyrics as bols as asthais/antaras to reach a much wider audience. As most of the people were not literate, the spoken and the heard word was an effective and workable manner of communication. So the creation went from appreciation by a few initiated listeners/readers to a much wider populace with diverse and varying taste. It must be said in the same breath that a clear distinction exists between the poets who were committed and those who were willing to make compromises by crossing over to lyricism thus advancing the cause of their words. This amphibian crossing-over was looked down upon by many in the high tradition of poetry and its populism decried and frowned upon. It was supposed to be peddled by those who placed poetry below the bandish and hence the sur. It was said with disdain that a good poet did not need the crutches of a singer or music to be appreciated, only a tukbund was in need of a vocalist, music composition or bandish to facilitate his cause. At the same time, it must be said that musical expression, especially in its higher form considered the word as a hindrance to the full application of the sur (note). It was seen as creating a duality of emotive response, divided between the cast spelt by music and the emotional matrix generated by the poetry. In the higher classical tradition of music, the lyrics were specifically written for the bandish in a particular raga and then rendered keeping in view the unity of expression, rather than managing and juggling the duality all the time. However, in times when music is judged by its content, the distinction between good poetry or an autonomous form of poetry and its lyrical version has got blurred. The same distinction has been carried over as the poets writing films songs are rarely considered serious poets, only peddlers negotiating the two major streams of human expression. So it is like a contest between two opposites which may seem similar. The word and the sur do not snuggle easily into each other’s laps but militates against each other. Taking it for granted that they do is to be duped by a superficial similarity. Faiz was lucky in that he was sung by some of the leading vocalists of the era and they were able to make musical sense out of the lyrics. These were, otherwise, great vocalists and had the credentials before they sung Faiz. The result was that they could use his lyrics as raw material for their bandishes. The three major numbers to have been sung have been mujh sey pehli si muhabbat meray mehboob na maang by Noor Jehan, probably composed by Rasheed Attre; gulon main rung bharay baade nau bahar chalay by Mehdi Hassan: probably composed by Mehdi Hasan himself; and dashte tanhai main aey jane jahan larzaan hain by Iqbal Bano: composed definitely by Mehdi Zaheer. This is not to say that the other numbers sung by many other leading vocalists have not been good –some more sung by the three vocalists mentioned above have too been truly outstanding but the three mentioned have been groundbreaking in composition and rendition. Their success was probably also facilitated by the timing of their release. Two of these also found their way into films which added to their popularity particularly among the masses and the people in the street started to hum these compositions. It is one of the advantages of mass media that its outreach is incredibly broad. It can address the unsuspecting wayside pickers of the word through the sur. The writer is a culture critic based in Lahore https://timespakistan.com/verses-and-voices-art-culture-thenews-com-pk/5332/

Delhiwale: A Ghalib lover’s life and his unnoticed farewell

Going back to his early days, Mr Waseem recalled: “I gave up my working life about a decade ago after which I decided to spend the rest of my life reading.”

At some point, Mr Waseem was a furniture polisher and an “all-round painter” in Mumbai. He also briefly lived in Dubai. But it was Delhi he headed to after leaving his hometown Kanpur decades ago.

“I must have been 20 then. I’m sure my brothers must still be living in Kanpur but I haven’t had any contact with them for a very long time. I like living alone.”

Mr Waseem never married. “I never had mohabbat (romance) with anyone… Sometimes, I think I could have experienced at least one relationship but I’m a traveller unable to set roots anywhere.”

Before his eyesight dimmed a few years ago, Mr Waseem would re-read his favourite novelists — Premchand, Krishan Chander, Khwaja Ahmad Abbas and Diptee Nazir Ahmad Dehlvi. “These writers had a style that brought me closer to the realities of our world.” The Ghalib Academy often hosts poetry mushairas in its large auditorium in the evenings. It’s rarely a full house, but we always spotted Mr Waseem in a seat at the back. Sometimes, he would be dozing.

In the evening, he would kill the hours sitting by a pavement tea stall just outside the Ghalib Academy. “It was there that he passed away one evening while having chai… his head just fell to one side,” the bookstall man told us. Mr Waseem’s relatives from Kanpur attended his burial, he added.

While talking to us, Mr Waseem had also said: “I have no pain, no suitcases and no burdens. My end depends on the will of God. Until then I will continue to be in this library.”

Nasir Kazmi: Rare Mushaira 1971

Nasir Kazmi was one of the greatest Urdu shayars from Pakistan. Born on December 8, 1925, his real name was Raza Kazmi and ‘Nasir’ was his pseudonym. His father, Mohammad Sultan was a major in the army. He studied till his high school in Ambala and Shimla. After partition, he settled in Lahore. He worked for a short while at the employment exchange. Later, he took up the position of an editor for Urdu journals 'Auraq-e-Nau' and 'Humayun'. He was also associated with Radio Pakistan and other literary publications and organizations. Coming to sher-o-Shayari, he was a great admirer of Firaq Gorakhpuri and Meer Taqi Meer. Nasir is known for his expertise in the use of small measures in his ghazals. He is a favorite of the ghazal singers in India as well as Pakistan. Nasir has also tried his hands on the translation of English poems. He died in Lahore on March 2, 1972, due to stomach cancer. His two collections of Urdu poetry ‘Barg-e-nai’ (1954) and ‘Deewan’ (1957) were published in his lifetime and ‘Pehli Baarish’ (1975) was published posthumously.

By: Subhashini Swar (Daughter) My father wrote this unforgettable soulful song(Is Dil Ke Tukde......) in 1948 for the film Pyar Ki Jeet. 

This was one of his personal favourites, and went on to be the lament in his life as he kept losing people he cared for one by one; and was forcedinto a final quagmire of loneliness as he weakly wrestled with the agonies of old age as well as a nondescript existence. There was no way to collect any of the remaining 'tukde' and join them, since they had disintegrated completely and were too far apart, so finally on 9th January 2003 he bid farewell to this pulsating Metropolis with its permanent rush hour sequence. His greatest attribute was his acceptance of life and other people on a complete as is where is basis. His philosophic manifestations took form in his songs, and even his most emotional ballad or romantic ditty conveyed a subtle hangover of philosophy.

He was born in a Punjabi family in 1917 in Amritsar, in a small town called Jalalabad, and was named Om Prakash. Right from the tender age of seven he starting writing poetry in Urdu. There was no encouragement from home, but a wandering minstrel poet named Amar met him in his hometown and encouraged him to write, recognizing his immense talent and potential. He also gave him the ‘takhallus’ of ‘Qamar’ which means moon, and Jalalabadi was added for effect because Qamarji hailed from that town. It was the general trend in those days for writers to name themselves after the towns they hailed from. 

After completing his matriculation from Amritsar, Qamarji embarked on his journalistic career journey by writing for Lahore based newspapers like Daily Milap, DailyPratap, Nirala, Star Sahakar. The lure of the Film industry brought him to Pune in the the early Forties. In 1942, he wrote lyrics for his first film Zameendar which was a Pancholi Pictures production and the songs of this film were very well received, especially the song sung by Shamshad Begum “Duniya me garibonko aaraam nahi milta….rote hain to hasne ka paigaam nahi milta…." which also had a line or two written by writer and poet Behzaad Lucknowi. Thereafter he shifted to Mumbai with family and thus began an eventful career in the glorious film industry which went on for nearly 4 decades. His songs were elusive wordplays that made you ponder deeply, looking for the hidden depths that were left upon the listener to uncover. Although he wrote what the need of the moment dictated, his gentle personality seeped through his lyrics. Potent love, deep excruciating pain and longing, ecstasy beyond comprehension, also hurt and humiliation that one faces in life through no fault; in other words every itsy bitsy emotion a lover or beloved goes through in the tryst to acquire true love, were portrayed in his effervescent songs. Golden voices of the legendary singers like NoorJehan, G.MDurrani, Zeenath Begum, Manju, Amirbai Karnatqi and many others added mesmeric glitz to Qamarji’s deeply meaningful songs; alongwith eclectic singers like Mohd. Rafi, Talat Mahmood, Geeta Roy, Suraiya, Shamshad Begum, Mukesh, Manna Dey, Asha Bhonsle, Kishore Kumar and the Nightingale of India Lata Mangeshkar. Not many people may know that the immortal composer S.D Burman had also rendered a comic song penned by Qamarji in the film Eight Days in 1946. The song was tuned by S.D Burman and the ticklish wordings were as follows…“O babu babu re dil ko bachana bachana, tere dilka banega nishaana…….”. Music composer Sardar Malik had rendered a few soulful songs in his heydays, and Qamarji had written several ballads for him. One memorable song was from the film Renuka in 1947 “sunti nahi duniya kabhi fariyaad kissi ki, Dil rota raha aati rahi yaad kissiki….”. The regal Beauty of her times Naseem Banu sang a heart-wrenching ghazal penned by Qamarji “Dil kis liye rota hai...pyar ki duniya me, aisa hi hota hai” for the film Mulaquat in 1947. Dancing legend Sitara Devi emoted a few of Qamarji’s songs in the film Chand In 1944 and in this film she played a cameo role as the slim and svelte second leading lady alongwith the charming Begum Para and dashing hero Prem Adib. Chand was one of the earliest of Qamarji’s successful and memorable films. As a lyricist he handled anything from the ridiculous to the sublime with equal deftness. On one hand he wrote mesmeric duets like “sun mere sajana dekhoji mujhko bhool na jana…” sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Mohd. Rafi (film: Aansoo 1953) and on the other hand he penned comic relief songs like “aaj pahli taarik hai” endured with full throttle gusto by Kishore Kumar (film: Pehli Tarikh-1954). This song turned into veritable anthem and was played on Radio Ceylon on the first if every month for decades, and it probably still is. The film Howrah Bridge (1954) sky-rocketed his career as lyricist to unpredescented heights. Songs like “mera naam Chin Chin Chu” (Geeta Dutt) and “aaiye meherbaan, baithiye janejaan….” (Asha Bhonsle) are still as breathtaking as ever, and are remembered far and wide for their rollicking tunes by Maestro Music composer O.P Nayyar as well as for the succulent lyrics. It is a sad thought though that very few people know who the writer of these songs is. In his personal life he was a highly principled personality who had his own unique rules and beliefs. He began each day with prayers that comprised of loud chanting of excerpts from The Bhagwad Geeta, The Holy Koran as well as The Bible. He was deeply into transcendental meditation, and was mostly embedded in his writing for most part of the day. A true Karma yogi as well, who took care of his ailing parents as long as they lived, nurtured his brothers and sisters, even gave up a bungalow in Khar in his heydays to one of his married sisters to save her from a difficult marriage, and shifted to simpler accommodation in Juhu with family. He was a benevolent and kind father and fought against all odds to provide for his seven children, and he managed to give us all a pretty decent life and put us all through college. His relationship with his wife was unique in the sense that my mother Smt. Leelawati was the traditional housewife, but also a friend and philosopher to my Father. They shared a rare bond of togetherness, he preferred to sit at home and chat with her over a cuppa, discussing every topic under the sun, instead of blowing his time in some mehfil with friends with a drink in hand. He had several friends and hundreds of fans whom he lovingly called his “pankhe”. His fan mail came in various languages; Hindi, English, Urdu and many regional languages as well. I remember how meticulously he replied to all his fan mail and judiciously sent an autographed photo as well. Some of his favorite people were poet Qateel Shifai, Ameen Sayani, Kalyanji and Anandji, the elusive O.P Nayyar who visited him some time before Qamarji’s demise, Music Composer S.D Batish, C.L Kavish, D.D Kashyap and many more. From his past associations he remembered G.Damle of Prabhat Film Company, Dattaram Pai of Filmistan, Babubhai Mitra, Husnlal Bhagatram and S.Mukherji the most as they had been a part of his initial glorious days as a lyricist. It is impossible to equate a man’s lifetime in words. In his long career span he worked for several Film Companies like; Prabhat Film Company, Pancholi Pictures, Filmistan Ltd., Famous Pictures, Minerva Movietone, Prakash Pictures, Wadia Films Ltd., Filmkar Ltd., Sippy Films, N.C Sippy Films, Shri Shakti Films, Mitra Productions and many more. He was one of the founder Members of prestigious organizations like FILM WRITERS ASSOCIATION & IPRS in Mumbai. The music Composers he worked with were; Ghulaam Haider, G.Damle, Pt.Amarnath, Khemchand Prakash, Husnlal Bhagatram, S.D. Burman, Anil Biswas, Shyam Sunder, Sajjad Hussain, C.Ramchandra, Madan Mohan, Sudhir Phadke, S.D. Batish, Sardar Malik, Ravi, Avinash Vyas and in the latter phase of his career with O.P Nayyar, Kalyanji Anandji, Sonik Omi, Uttam Singh and Laxmikant Pyarelal as well. Most music lovers may not be aware that Qamarji was a polished and highly acclaimed Adabi Shayar as well, and had graced innumerable Mushairas and symposiums related to Urdu Poetry all over India. Some gems of his Shairy are available [] for all the die-hard fans of Vintage music and mystical Poetry.

Rahat Indauri, Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)

Kamil Hyderabadi, Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)

Aftab Fakhari, Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)

Raees Ansari, Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)

Akhtar Gwaliori, Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)

Akhtar Gwaliori, Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)

Meraj Faizabadi, Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)

Sabir Janvi,Naat e Pak,Kul Hind Natiya Mushaira (Very Rare Mushaira)