P.K.Mishra – an appreciation

A short comment in a WhatsApp group chat, where the commenter fondly remembered the strange sounding lyrics of 1990’s Hindi film song, prompted this slightly deeper dive into the words, and the writer of those words…

Ah… the underrated genius of the man, the lyricist, the poet named P.K.Mishra! Has there been another like him in the Hindi film industry? There isn’t much known about him, and sadly, he is now largely forgotten – but for a while, he was the missing link – the key, that unlocked, for the Hindi audience, the magic of the music of the new sensation that hit film music in 1992 – A.R.Rahman.

There’s a story – which is probably apocryphal, that he was known only as Mishraji – and someone at Mani Ratnam’s film company, when asked to submit credits for the Hindi version of Roja, asked for the name of the lyric writer. He didn’t think just Mishra would look good, so he asked for a first name or initial – and they told him – that guy who comes in to every session a bit… you know – peekay? But that’s almost definitely a cruel joke – other internet sources state that he was born Om Mishra, who changed it to Purshottam Kumar on the advice of an astrologer. Whether that’s true or not, he did strike it lucky, for a few years in the 1990’s – and the lyrics that he wrote are still remembered and sung, very fondly by everyone who remembers those years.

“Jurassic park-me, sundarsi jodi, jazz music gaye milke…
Picasso ki painting mera picha pakad ke, Texas me nache milke”

Those weren’t words that P.K. Mishra thought up himself, of course – they were an exact translation from Tamil to Hindi, of the lines written by the Tamil lyricist, Vairamuthu. Much of A.R. Rahman’s early tunes featured such offbeat, edgy lyrics that added to the novelty that the composer brought to Tamil film music, and seemed to capture the mood of the times. There is definitely an argument to be made, that the wild popularity of Rahman’s early tunes in Tamil owed quite a bit to Vairamuthu’s words, providing a new generation with words that were far removed from the stately rhymes of Kannadasan’s poetry that the Tamil audience had become used to.

Hindi film producers were quick to sense the appeal of the revolutionary sound that Rahman was bringing to film music, and there was a rush to dub the films that were carried by his innovative music tracks. That moment found the man – P.K.Mishra, a Rajasthani who had made Madras his home, equally fluent in both Tamil and Hindi, and able to find the words that fit the zingy melodies in the Hindi dubbed versions of movies like Roja, Kadhalan and Gentleman – each of which became superhits in both Tamil and Hindi.

Mishra’s unique ability – to find words that exactly translated Vairamuthu’s zany words while maintaining the complex beats and rhythms in Rahman’s melody, produced songs that came to define the sound of early 90’s Hindi songs.

“Oliyum oliyum current pona … take it easy policy” – became, effortlessly, “Chitrahaar me Bijlee ud gayee.. take it easy policy” – defying any pretense at maintaining the lip-syncing that Prabhudeva did, yet dropped perfectly into the beat of the song. The translations – which were most of the time, exact literal translations from Tamil, were a masterly exercise in skirting just close enough to becoming cringey – without tipping quite over that edge, so that it would still be hummable.

Soon though, Rahman did a more proper cross-over – where the Hindi versions of his musicals were proper remakes, rather than dubbed versions. Other, more experienced lyric writers took over the mantle – and his melodies acquired the enhanced dignity that would come from the pens of writers such as Javed Akhthar and Gulzar, in movies like Dil Se and Lagaan. Although P.K.Mishra continued to write lyrics for some more films dubbed from Tamil to Hindi, and even some original Hindi film scores, he was soon forgotten in the grand revival of Hindi film music of the later 90’s and early 2000’s – a period when music really came back to the movies.

But we should spare a thought for his words – and perhaps, acknowledge that he did more than just literal translations from Tamil to Hindi. That would be too shallow a judgment of someone, in my opinion, who took the job of lyric writing seriously. And the best example of that can be seen in some of the songs in the very first film that shot him to fame – the coming out party for A.R. Rahman – the 1992 musical revelation that was Roja.

The signature tune from this film – the song that dropped like a thunderclap on Indian film music lovers, is a great example of Mishra’s ability to go beyond just translating the original lyric.

“Chinna chinna aasai… siragadikkum aasai…” –  a mere translator may have chosen the easy way, and stuck to the original meter and words, and just done – “choti choti aasha.. udthi hui aasha.”. But that wasn’t Mishra’s way – to go beyond the words, to the sense of the song, required him to reach out, and find the simpler words that were the right ones – and that are now so famous – “Dil hai chota sa… choti si aasha…”.

An even better example, however, is in another song from the same movie. The scene is a dramatic, pivotal moment in the movie. The hero, imprisoned by terrorists in Kashmir, breaks his bonds and uses his body to douse the flames that engulf the Indian flag that has been set afire by one of his captors. The rousing music in the background enhances the drama and the heroism, and Vairamuthu’s words are a call to the pride and valor that is the hallmark of the Tamil warrior, the superhero that Tamil audiences have come to love and adore. The words too echo that – and are distinctly parochial – “Thamizha, thamizha, naalai nam naale…” – an exhortation that this is the day of the proud, brave, Tamilian. The next verse does extend the thought to the idea of the Tamilian also as a proud Indian, but Vairamuthu’s poetic imagination is still largely confined to the generalized idea of patriotic fervor, and becomes just a collection of words that fit the music.

When the movie gets to the dubbed Hindi version, though – P.K.Mishra ups it to another level altogether. He knows that this is now pitched to a national audience – and therefore, needs a much larger canvas. He bravely paints that, going well beyond just a rousing exaltation of patriotism and bravery that is in the Tamil version. It becomes a song that now seems a relic of the last century, when Hindi film lyric writers were part of the grand Indian project, who saw themselves as the inheritors of a proud poetic tradition that stretched from Tagore and Iqbal. The song then, becomes a veritable anthem – a song that brings the country together, calling out its different religions and states, and it becomes…

“Bharat humko, jaan se pyaara hai…
sabse nyaara, Gulistan hamaara hai…”

Ujade Nahin Apna Chaman, Toote Nahin Apna Vatan
Gumraah Na Kar De Koee, Barbaad Na Kar De Koee
Mandir Yahaan, Masjid Vahaan, Hindoo Yahaan, Muslim Yahaan
Milte Rahen Hum Pyaar Se, Jaago! …

Aasaam Se Gujarat Tak, Bangal Se Maharashtra Tak
Jaati Kaee, Dhun Ek Hai, Bhaasha Kaee, Sur Ek Hai
Kashmir Se Madras Tak, Kah Do Sabhee Hum Ek Hain
Aavaaz Do Hum Ek Hain, Jaago!