Chamatkar Film Song
Mica Withington
In 1989, when Doordarshan began telecasting Fauji, they obviously had no idea how big a superstar Shah Rukh Khan would become. Neither did we, but we were all enamoured. He wasn't even conventionally good-looking, but every single girl in sixth standard with me had hearts in her eyes when she thought of those chocolate brown eyes, floppy hair and annoyingly adorable stutter.
Some days, we would even enact scenes from the episode that had been telecast the day before. (I shake my head as I even type the word 'telecast'. My boys only know the word 'streaming', but that's a story for another time.) But what appealed to all of us was how he could make us laugh, even in a show that was about soldiers and the army. Although none of us knew what 'coming of age' meant, we were all caught up with the events that shaped the nervous trainee into Lt. Abhimanyu Rai.
My father predicted that 'this boy' would become a famous movie actor one day. He didn't live to see that day, but Shah Rukh had already become a TV favourite, partly, I think, because we were starved for choice. But what really appealed to me was his penchant for goofiness, which we saw ever so briefly in Doosra Keval, even though he was in barely two episodes. I remember waiting endlessly, hoping his character hadn't really died, because after his departure, the show which had been warmly affectionate and fun became morose and boring.
There should be a word for the embarrassment that you feel on behalf of someone else, hmm? That was the emotion I felt, mildly, when I saw him romance Divya Bharti in Deewana. It was probably because until then, we had never seen him do the song-and-dance routine and the obsessed lover was not the Shah Rukh we'd seen and loved on TV. More movies followed and the embarrassment disappeared and in its place came anticipation.
How we laughed when we saw the Bichhoo song in Chamatkar. He hadn't really developed that hero persona by then and he stuttered his way into our hearts, even as Urmila Matondkar and her gang painted his face and made ponytails for him. It was a delight to see him essay all kinds of roles with ease, be it the idealistic young man in Raju Ban Gaya Gentleman or the bad boy/lover boy in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge.
There were other movies, too, where he was the quintessential romantic hero, but I missed that actor who didn't mind playing the fool if the scene asked for it. By then, I was beginning to be annoyed when I saw Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and Dil To Pagal Hai, although they were still better than his negative roles. I was most certainly not a fan of him trying hard to look menacing and evil, even though he did the boy-next-door roles like in Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa every now and then.
But then Baadshah happened. This campy, kitschy movie is one of my favourites, simply because of the fun that Shah Rukh has in the movie. I'm not sure I can accurately describe the range of absurdity he displays in the film (at least in the first half, before the movie turned into a desi version of Nick of Time). The movie may not have done well but it's a given that my family will sit down and watch it every time it's shown on TV. Mad and meaningless, this movie is one of my favourite entertainers, where Shah Rukh Khan doesn't really care that he's a superstar (although he does wear dark glasses and an absurd-looking detective type coat for most of the film). The song 'main toh hoon pagal' from the movie perfectly sums up both his character and the movie.
Sadly, after Baadshah, we didn't get to see him exploring his funny side that much, unless you count some scenes from Om Shanti Om. Of course, there was that train wreck called Chennai Express where, as in all his recent movies, Shah Rukh seemed fully aware of his own superstardom. But there were also moments in this movie when he allowed himself to be the goofy Baadshah of yesteryears, where his face relayed the energy that used to be his trademark.
I don't have much hopes from the upcoming Zero, which looks like it will riff on the superstar playing a dwarf, but I really hope that amid his intense lover-type roles, Shah Rukh Khan brings his inner goofball out to play once in a while.
The 1992 Shah Rukh Khan starrer Chamatkar was known for its music as much as it is known for its ghost, played by Naseeruddin Shah. The plot goes that only Shah Rukh Khan could see and talk with the ghost and it goes on to help him in his life in many ways.
The film's composer Anu Malik seems to be seeing and talking to 3 ghosts to produce 3 songs for the soundtrack! Yes, of the 6 songs in the soundtrack 3 are 'inspired', to put it mildly. Thankfully, my favorite song from the film, 'Iss Pyaar Se Meri Taraf Na Dekho' is not one of them.
1. Let's take 'Bichhoo O Bichhoo', first. The song, filmed inside an unusually large train compartment, with Urmila and her friends chasing a bewildered Shah Rukh Khan all over the place while searching for a scorpion, is a racy and incredibly catchy song. The only problem is that Anu Malik is not the brain behind the tune.
Bichoo's tune was first composed as an instrumental, titled 'I Will Follow Him' in 1961, by the French composer Franck Pourcel using the pseudonym J.W. Stole, and Paul Mauriat (using the pseudonym Del Roma)!
It was a big hit and the British singer Petula Clark used the tune to create a French song titled 'Chariot' in 1962. It was created from the original to cater to Petula's vocal range, in a soulful, moody style. But you could hear a lot of Chamatkar's Bichoo even here!
But the most direct original of Bichoo is the 3rd and most popular iteration of 'I Will Follow Him', by 14-year-old Margaret Battavio, better known as Little Peggy March, in 1963! RCA producers Hugo Peretti and Luigi Creatore (known as 'Hugo and Luigi') discovered Margaret Battavio, named her Little Peggy March, possibly because she was only 4 ft 10 in tall (she was only 14 at that time, remember!), and gave her a reimagined version of Chariot/I Will Follow Him! The new tune was considerably uptempo and had a doo wop-style male chorus. The main chorus of the song is the core melody of Bichoo, by the way!
2. The 2nd Chamatkari song in the film is 'Jawani Diwani'. A curious feature of this song is that it features Baazigar's 'Yeh Kaali Kaali Aankhen' tune in the 2nd interlude! Chamatkar was released in 1992 and Baazigar in 1993, and Anu Malik composed music for both films.
Since I have already written about the origin of 'Yeh Kaali Kaali Aankhen', let me focus on 'Jawani Diwani's original. The original belongs to Boney M, the Euro-Caribbean group. The song is Bahama Mama, from Boney M's 4th album, Oceans Of Fantasy (1979). The first 4 lines of Bahama Mama has been used as-is by Anu Malik to create 'Jawani Diwani'.
Bappi Lahiri has used this tune back in 1981, for the film Armaan! The song was 'Mere Jaisi Haseena Ka Dil', sung by Sharon Prabhakar and Bappi Lahiri. Listen to Mere Jaisi Haseena Ka Dil (Armaan, 1981):
Does the tune belong to Bappi Lahiri? Of course not! It belongs to American rock band Dr.Hook, and the original song is 'When You're in Love with a Beautiful Woman', a 1979 single that joined the mega-successful disco wave of that period! Listen to Dr.Hook's 'When You're in Love with a Beautiful Woman' (1979)
When I realised today was Farooq Sheikh's birth anniversary, I asked some of my Gen Z coworkers if they knew who he was. They said the name rang a bell, but couldn't quite recall who or why. That is until I told them he was Bunny's dad. Everyone knows Bunny from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani.
Me, I had my first encounter with Farooq Sheikh while watching Noorie and Maya Memsahab, two films that popped up on my cable tv channel and were being watched by my elders. He was also the hero in that funny film about someone called Ms Chamko, which I later on came to know and watch as Chashme Baddoor. I was quite the old-school music fan and knew that the song 'Tumko Dekha Toh Yeh Khayal Aaya' was picturised on him and that same actress (Deepti Naval). I was yet to discover the brilliant Ji Mantriji.
I realised he wasn't some mainstream actor then, in my limited, childish knowledge of yesteryear-Bollywood. And that was that. But then he entered my prime television spot with Chamatkar. Back when Sony TV was all about fun shows like Sunday Ke Sunday, Aahat (LOL), Just Mohabbat and others, Chamatkar was a show I would enjoy watching. Farooq Sheikh played the role of a man who had a hearing problem, but was actually blessed with a bizarre superpower of being able to hear noises and conversations happening miles away. The late Razzak Khan played his assistant, and the two would even help the police solve crime cases.
Even then, in his character, Sheikh managed to put you, the viewer, in this inexplicable ease as you watched him on screen. You'd feel an instant affinity to him, as if he were your favourite uncle who would indulge you in a way your parents wouldn't.
But wait, Bunny's dad. That was the role, one of his last few appearances on screen, that confirmed the image I had built of him in my mind. The cool dad, the chill old man who'd tell you, "Jaa beta jaa, jee le apni zindagi". I remember watching YJHD and feeling utterly horrible during that scene where Ranbir Kapoor has to leave for the airport and he has a conversation with his father, played by Sheikh. Knowing that his character passes away in the film and doesn't get to meet his son one last time was quite emotional.
A lot of my 90s peers also draw a blank when asked if they know who Farooq Sheikh is. The actor was never one to seek mainstream fame and filmography. But as Bunny's dad, he was immortal. My friends thought the way his character dealt with the whims and dreams of his young son was a breath of fresh air, compared to the usual crop of B-Town fathers. That relationship was beautiful, something you'd want with your own parents. And there couldn't have been a better role to remember him by for someone like me.
64591212e2