Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; February 20, 2020)

In 1978, on a visit to Mumbai from Hyderabad, at a mehfil in Khar, singer Talat Aziz ran into music director Khayyam who complimented him on the purity of his voice and promised to record a song with him for a film if he got a chance. Talat saab did not hear from him till ’80-end when, one day, out of the blue, Khayyam saab called, saying he had a song for him and asked him to come over for rehearsals. “He was very particular about rehearsals. Even Lata ji (Mangeshkar) and Asha ji (Bhosle) had to drive down all the way from town, like me, to his apartment in the suburbs for 10-15 rehearsals before going in for recording. We would sit in his music room and Muzaffar Ali, the director, would be standing at the doorway, watching me go on and on. Sometimes his wife, Jagjit Kaur ji, would feel sorry for me and tell Khayyam saab to let me go, but he would argue that I could sing it better with practice,” Talat saab recounts.

Much later, the composer confided, that singer-actress Suraiya ji, who was among the guests at the mehfil, had been equally impressed by his voice and had urged Khayyam saab to give him a break only in a good film. “He’d retorted saying he only did good films,” Talat saab shares.

Talat Aziz made his debut as a playback singer in Umrao Jaan with the ghazal “Zindagi Jab Bhi” (left). The song was not there in the original script. But Khayyam saab pointed out to Muzaffar Ali that the Umrao had plenty of suitors and the only way the courtesan would be drawn to Farooq Shaikh’s character, Nawab Sultan, was if he wrote nazms. “The film didn’t do well commercially, so I was surprised when, after its release, I was inundated by requests for this particular song at mehfils abroad and learnt that people there had heard it on video cassettes. In some cassettes though it was snipped out because the film was too long,” Talat saab laughs.

The following year, they collaborated on the melodious “Phir Chhidi Raat Baat Phoolon Ki” (right) for Bazaar which was recorded at Bombay Lab. Talat saab recalls how nervous he was to be singing with the legendary Lata ji, and how, when he told her “darr lag raha hai”, she quickly put him at ease. After three takes, Khayyam saab’s voice boomed over the headphones, complimenting them and saying he was on the way to their booth. “Wait and watch, as soon as he comes in, he will say, ‘ek aur’, Lata ji told me, and that’s exactly how it happened. That ‘ek aur’ was Khayyam saab’s ‘safety’ take,” he informs.

Quiz Talat saab on the man himself, and the singer describes his mentor to be “frugal” in every sense. He visited Khayyam saab at home every Friday after prayers as the mosque was next door. The composer waited to have lunch with him. “It was a simple meal of tomato soup, dal, doodhi or turai ki bhaaji and a chapati for him, and overriding my objections, he’d insist his cook Nirmala make chicken for me. After the meal, brushing away my reluctance, he’d insist I eat an apple, at least a slice, as it was a healthy dessert,” he flashbacks.

After that, they’d chat for hours. Sometimes Khayyam saab would recite verses— “he knew Sahir Ludhianvi’s book of poetry, Talkhiyan, by heart”—and sometimes he’d narrate stories, like how he landed the 1958 film, Phir Subah Hogi (left), which was a turning point in his career. “Khayyam saab had gone to RK Studio and played different tunes for Ramesh Saigal (the film’s producer-director), and Raj Kapoor, its hero, with his team of musicians for almost an hour. Raj saab had listened without expression, then gone into the room next door. Thinking he’d been rejected, Khayyam saab was packing up to leave, when Raj saab returned after around 30 minutes, and asked him to play some tunes again. He ended up getting the film which was a big deal then for a newbie composer as it was unthinkable for RK to do a film without Shankar-Jaikishen,” says Talat saab.

The memories continue... How one day, after Kamaal Amrohi’s Mercedes had dropped him off at home close to midnight, Khayyam saab had come upon Sahir Ludhianvi taking a nightly stroll. The lyricist told him he was doing a film with Yash Chopra. Soon after, Jaya Bachchan turned up at his door, wondering if he had the Razia Sultan song, “Dil-e-Nadaan Tujhe Hua Kya Hai” which had become a craze, on a cassette. “Amit ji wants to hear it,” she told him. He didn’t, but the next day, when he told Kamaal saab this, the filmmaker had it recorded on a cassette and rushed to Bachchan’s office. “On Amit ji’s recommendation, Khayyam saab landed Kabhi Kabhie (right),” narrates Talat saab. The film remains unforgettable for Sahir and Khayyam’s evergreen “Neela Aasmaan”, “Main Pal Do Pal Ka Shayar Hoon” and of course, the title track, “Kabhi Kabhie Mere Dil Mein Khayal Aata Hai.”

Khayyam saab has given the music for many love stories, but the one Talat saab loves best is his own. He remembers how, after his mentor collapsed in his flat last year, on July 28, nattily dressed in jacket and trousers, his trademark topi on his head, they rushed Khayyam saab to the hospital, where, soon after, his wife, was admitted too. “Three days before he died, I wheeled Jagjit Kaur ji into the ICU where he lay, eyes closed. She took his hand and whispered, ‘Dekho saab, main aa gayi hoon. Kholo aankhen, mujhe chhod ke mat jao. I love you.’ I could see something flutter beneath his eyelids as if he was trying to come out of the coma. But this time even love failed,” he sighs.

Mohammed Zahur Khayyam Hashmi passed away on the night of August 19. The next morning when Talat saab gave the news to Lata ji she sighed, “He was the last of the Titans. With him an era has ended.”

Legendary music composer Khayyam, 93, who passed away on August 19, spoke to us last year about his musical journey, movies that were special to him, and why it is important to embrace change in music with times
Soumya Vajpayee (BOMBAY TIMES; August 21, 2019)

A musical era has come to an end with the legendary Mohammed Zahur Khayyam Hashmi’s demise on the night of August 19. The Padma Bhushan recipient was synonymous with classical music, rich in melody and poetry. His legacy has ensured him a place amongst the immortals. Songs such as Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein and Main Pal Do Pal Ka Shayar Hoon (Kabhie Kabhie, 1976); Ankhon Mein Humne Aapke Sapne (Thodisi Bewafaii, 1980); Dil Cheez Kya Hai and Zindagi Jab Bhi (Umrao Jaan, 1981); Phir Chhidi Raat and Karoge Yaad Toh (Bazaar, 1982); and Ae Dil-e-Naadaan (Razia Sultan, 1983) are some of his haunting melodies.

In an interview with us last year, the celebrated music composer expressed satisfaction with the way his life and career panned out over the years. “By the grace of God, I’ve had a great journey in the Hindi film industry,” he had said, adding, “There were many hardships on the way, but God and my love for music kept me going. I fulfilled my responsibilities to the best of my ability. I’m happy that I made some tunes that people love and admire even today.”

Khayyam always spoke about his love for Umrao Jaan and considered it his favourite work. “I remember when I was supposed to start work on the music of Umrao Jaan (1981). The songs of Pakeezah (1972) were a rage. I was tensed as it was difficult to come up with something as spectacular and to make a mark.”

“I had to do a lot of research about the history of Awadh before composing the songs of Umrao Jaan. I wanted the tracks to have the right essence. It’s because of those challenges that Umrao Jaan is closest to my heart,” Khayyam had said.

While Khayyam was always vocal about the fact that his favourite soundtrack was Umrao Jaan, he held Razia Sultan close to his heart, too. “The film’s script and how the songs were penned made it immortal, especially the track, Ae Dil-e-Nadaan, sung beautifully by Lata Mangeshkar. It is very special to me. Another film that’s close to my heart is Phir Subah Hogi (1958); it was my first collaboration with Raj Kapoor saab,” said the National Award winner.

Synonymous with classic music, high on melody and poetry, Khayyam, however, had no qualms in embracing the changes in music with times. He said, “Music in films today has a lot of western influence, which I don’t enjoy personally, but there’s nothing wrong in that. That’s the kind of music that the younger generation enjoys. It’s the demand of the changing times. See, change is the only constant, and you should know how to go with the flow. The kind of music that’s made for a film completely depends on the subject of a project. Musicians of our time — my seniors and contemporaries — were privileged and lucky to get amazing subjects to work on as our music, poetry and melodies were all dependent on the stories.”

The Padma Bhushan recipient was a fan of the Academy Award-winning composer A R Rahman. “He does some amazing work. His song, Dil Hai Chota Sa Choti Si Asha (Roja, 1992) is incredible. I listen to it over and over again,” he said.

The last few films he composed music for were Yatra (2007), Bazaar E Husn (2014) and the unreleased Ghulam Bandhu.


MEMORIES IN MUSIC: KHAYYAM’S EVERGREEN SONGS

Khayyam, who passed away on Monday after a prolonged illness at the age of 92, created evocative, soul-stirring music reminiscent of the era gone-by in classics such as Umrao Jaan and Kabhi Kabhie. Songs such as Woh Subah Kabhi To Aayegi, Kabhi Kabhie Mere Dil Mein, Dil Cheez Kya Hai, Aaja Re O Mere Dilbar and In Aankhon Ki Masti Ke will keep Khayyam’s memory alive for generations to come

Kabhi Kabhie Mere Dil Mein: KABHI KABHIE (1976)


Woh Subah Kabhi To Aayegi: PHIR SUBAH HOGI (1958)


Main Pal Do Pal Ka Shayar: KABHI KABHIE (1976)


Dil Cheez Kya Hai: UMRAO JAAN (1981)


Aaja Re O Mere Dilbar: NOORIE (1979)


Ae Dil-e-Nadan: RAZIA SULTAN (1983)

Karoge Yaad To Har Baat: BAZAAR (1982)

Avijit Ghosh (THE TIMES OF INDIA; August 20, 2019)

1927—2019

1976 was no time for tender melody. The Emergency was on. Rajesh Khanna’s era of romance was gone. Fists had replaced dialogues in Bombay cinema. And songs were no longer what they used to be. Hardly the moment for a music director nearing 50 to make a comeback.

But Khayyam, who passed away on Monday at the age of 92 following a cardiac arrest in a Mumbai hospital, grabbed the opportunity that Yash Chopra’s ‘Kabhi Kabhie’ brought to his sluggish career.

The inter-generational love story required two different styles of compositions. Khayyam excelled in both. For the first, he produced two minimalist masterpieces of melody which enhanced Sahir’s reflective poetry. The title track, ‘Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai’ became the topper in Binaca Geet Mala’s annual countdown show. ‘Main pal do pal ka shayar hoon’ became an anthem for any self-effacing versifier.

In times when action movies ruled the roost, Khayyam’s music was a figurative triumph of violins amidst violence. For the younger generation, he produced loopy tunes – Tere chehre se and Tera phoolon jaisa rang – sending a loud message to producers that the 1940’s composer could better the sound of the 1970s.

For the next 10 years, Khayyam was at the peak of his creative powers and in his commercial prime. Umrao Jaan, Noorie, Thodi Se Bewafaai and Bazaar became synonymous with melodies that drew you closer to the radio.

A perfectionist, he scored for only 54 released films in a career spanning over five decades. Some of his compositions were so delicate they did not fit into the mould of film music – Kahin ek masoom nazuk si ladki (Shankar Hussain), Aaje re dilbar aaja (Noorie), Tumhari palkon ke chilmanon mein (Nakhuda), Baharon mera jeevan bhi sawaaron (Aakhri Khat). At the same time, he could throw up surprises with simple, swinging tunes of adolescent enthusiasm - Gapuchi gapuchi gam gam (Trishul), Mausam mausam lovely mausam (Thodi Si Bewafai) and Aaj se college band hai (Khandan).

Under him, an assortment of singers thrived. Bhupinder sang his first solo for him in Aakhri Khat (Rut Jawan). His wife Jagjit Kaur sang in films like Shagoon and Bazaar. This year, Khayyam had donated Rs 5 lakh to the families of soldiers killed in the Pulwama blast.

Born Muhommad Zahoor Khayyam Hashmi in Rahon, a little town near Jalandhar, Khayyam wanted to be a singer-actor in films. To boost his chances, he learnt music from the masters, Pandit Amarnath and Husanlal-Bhagatram, and assisted composer GA Chisti. He also joined the Indian Army during World War II.

He made his debut as a music director with Heer Ranjha (1948). His first hit was Akele mein woh ghabrate to honge (Beewee, 1950). He assumed the name, Sharmaji, for these early films.

Khayyam found his musical métier with Footpath (1953). The film had one of the finest ghazals composed in Hindi cinema: Sham-e-gham ki kasam (singer: Talat Mehmood). The composer used a piano, a guitar and a solo vox, a basic form of synthesizer, and yet it sounded totally traditional. The song, Khayyam told this reporter once, was put together from several recordings.

He earned more critical acclaim with Ramesh Saigal’s Phir Subah Hogi. The film based on Dostoevsky’s Crime And Punishment had some of the finest lyrics written by Sahir Ludhianvi: Woh subah kabhi to aayegi and Chino-Arab hamara. “After listening to the compositions, Asha Bhonsle told me, ‘Khayyam saab aapki to subah ho gayee’. Mukesh immediately told her, ‘You have said the right thing’," the music director once told this reporter.

Khayyam is gone. But his melodies of matchless tenderness will always be heard and remembered.