BY DR. ANAND MANAPURE 

 

 

IN THE early seventies, after selection by MPSC, I was appointed as a lecturer in English, at Sydenham College, Bombay. However, fate seemed to have a different plan in store for me. My Ph.D. guide insisted on my relocation back to Nagpur for better guidance in my research. Bureaucratic hurdles thwarted my attempts to secure a transfer, leaving me disheartened and seeking solace in the depths of a local bar. Stepping into the dimly lit establishment, I encountered a solitary young man, a manifestation of despair, lost in the throes of unrequited love. With dishevelled hair and a forlorn gaze, he epitomised the yearning for self-inflicted suffering, his plea for darkness resonating with my own internal turmoil. I told the waiter to switch the lights on because it was very dark inside. The lonely drinker, enjoying the pleasure of abnegation, uttered a philosophical precept ‘Batti bujha do, Mai dil jala raha hun’ (Don’t switch the lights on, I am burning my heart.) Reflecting on this encounter, I find solace in the melancholic melodies of Bollywood, each song a poignant reminder of shared sorrow and unspoken longing.

 

In the film Bawarchi, Rajesh Khanna says, the impact of happy songs is just ephemeral while that of sad songs is perennially lasting. Mukesh’s haunting ‘Aasu bhari hai ye jeevan ki rahen’ [The roads of life are filled with tears], ‘Bhuli Hui yaadon, muze itana na sataao’, [Don’t torment me with forgotten memories so much] have perennial ecstasy. Talat’s soul-stirring ballads like ‘Seeneme Sulagte Hui Arman’ [Emotions shouldering in the heart] ‘Jalte Hai Jeske liye teri aakho ke diye’, [I have found those songs for which the lamps of your eyes burn] and Rafi’s ‘Is bhari duniyame koibhi hamara na hua’ [in this whole wide world no one becomes our own], ‘Tute huye khwabo ne, hum ko ye sikhaya hai’ [The shattered dreams have taught me this], Kishore Kumar’s ‘Woh Sham Kuch Ajeeb Thi’ [There was something strange about that Evening] or ‘Zindagika ka safar ,Hai Yeh kaisa safar’ [What kind of journey is it, No one has understood that], become a conduit for collective catharsis, transcending linguistic barriers to touch the depths of human soul. Yet, amidst the melancholy, I discern a subtle distinction between masochistic indulgence and poetic transcendence. As Friedrich Nietzsche famously proclaimed, “Without music, life would be a mistake,” highlighting the transformative power of artistic expression in navigating life’s complexities.

 

In a world fraught with chaos and uncertainty, tragic songs offer a sanctuary for empathy and contemplation, bridging the gap between individual experiences and universal truths. From the tender melody of a mother’s lullaby to the virtuoso performances of renowned artists, music permeates the fabric of existence, offering solace in times of sorrow and companionship in moments of solitude. As I reflect on the intrinsic connection between music and melancholia, I tend to embrace the bittersweet symphony of life. In the poetry of desolation and despondence lies the promise of redemption like Aristotle’s concept of catharsis, and in the embrace of melancholy, the wings of self-discovery takes flight. There are therapeutic virtues of poetic expression, to find solace in the communion of shared sorrow. For in the poetry of grief lies the beauty of the human experience, where joy and sorrow intertwine to create a tapestry of life’s journey.