Phir Subah Hogi: National Agenda On A 45-rpm Record
A classic 1958 song captures both the despair and the lofty hopes of a young India. But when we look back 57 years later, we as a nation seem to have belied those hopes.
While listening to a 45-rpm record of one my all-time favourite films, Phir Subah Hogi—a penny dropped.
The song was Chin-o-Arab Hamaara. It appeared that the song was written before 1962—as it captured, perhaps satirically, the outreach of a poor and destitute India which saw the Arab world and China as India’s natural soulmates as we took upon ourselves the mantle of the spokesperson of the oppressed world.
I checked on the internet, and found that the movie was indeed released in 1958! Tibet was already invaded, but the Dalai Lama was still in Tibet, and India was romancing with Mao’s China (People’s Republic of China) over Chiang Kai Shek’s (now pushed to small island nation called Republic of China or popularly known as Taiwan). 1962 was four years away and India’s support to Mao’s China’s for entry into the Security Council was 13 years in the future.
Petrodollars were yet to flow, Egypt took upon itself the leadership of Arab world. UAE wasn’t yet born, Dubai was fighting with Abu Dhabi and the Arabs together were at odds with the recently-created state of Israel.
While the ground was being set for ‘forward policy’, the first State Reorganization Commission’s report had been implemented a couple of years ago, giving birth to assorted linguistic states including Maharashtra, Karnataka, despite a growing swell of opposition to this criteria.
You can see the song here. The full lyrics with English translation are given at the end of this article.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWfHRCxDlk8
India was barely a decade old when the movie was released. The masses were ready to give all they had for young India. The song begins on a, rather sad note: Kholi bhi chhin gayi hai, benche bhi chhin gayi hai, Sadako pe ghumata hai ab karavaan hamaara (Huts have been snatched away from us. Not even a bench is ours. People of our kind now roam the streets).
But then it builds to what is truly dramatic hope and resolve: Mil julake is vatan ko, aisaa sajaayege hum, Hairat se munh takegaa, sara jahaan hamaara (All of us will come together and turn this nation around such that the world will look at us in awe).
57 years later. . .we look again at the possibility of yet another state reorganisation commission. Telangana wasn’t agreed to in the 1950s, but is now a reality and the aftershocks of this decision led to an avalanche of protests in several other parts of the country. Vidarbha looks geared to get its identity back, apart from Gorkhaland, Bodoland, Bundelkhand plus four splinters of Uttar Pradesh. Possibility of CMs arresting each other may look remote, but the viciousness seen between Telangana and Andhra is much more than a regular fight over river waters. Does this mean the bundling we did post-Independence will finally come unstuck?
We still churn the poor and the poverty by millions every year. The world, hairat se munh, China, ka takta hai, not our’s—the world looks at China with awe, not at us. Are we seeing something which can be termed redeeming? The destitution of swathes of humanity in Africa can be blamed on the lack of a stable political class, but what have we got to blame?
So why did the penny drop? As India saw during the birth of Telangana, more bloodshed is foretold as parochialism and partisan politics will once again rear its ugly head and remind us, what we have made is watan komiljulake? (What have we made of this country together?)
My fear is, we are not attempting enough to reinforce the bonds of cohesion in the country. “India, that is Bharat shall be a union of states,” is how Article 1 of our Constitution describes India as. Thus, what keeps India going is this document which captured the urges of millions of people of the Indian sub-continent, who did, what was never done in its history—a political unification through an assembly.
As India saw unprecedented bloodshed and mass exodus following Partition, the founding fathers were acutely alive to what identity-based politics entails. Our Constitution swears by the highest ideals and the best of what human thought engendered. In 1950, we were more politically advanced than even the mighty USA, which still denied political rights to the coloured people. However, today, these concepts are hostages to the primeval tribal instincts of identity once again.
Justice, the sublime notion, today can only be delivered and believed in, if the caste and the religious composition is politically correct. The nation delivered to us by our founding fathers was, I think, far more progressive and liberal in outlook than what we have today.
The demographic dividend we so fondly talk of looks more like demographic liability as Talim hai adhuri, milati nahi majuri (Our education is incomplete. We can’t find employment). We think of delivering salvation through entitlement programmes, but who will set the fundamentals in place? Who will deliver sustainable employment to the teeming millions?
Kholi nahin hai (There isn’t even a hut) but we eagerly deliver benches and call it progress.
How can an enduring progress be made on empty stomachs?
Because,
Jitni bhi bildingein thhi, sethon ney baant li hai
Footpath Bambai ke hai aashiyaan hamaara
(All the buildings that were there have been taken away by the rich.
Bombay’s footpaths are our home).
This inequity is said to be the fodder for several insurgent movements. And this is growing.
Patlaa hai haal apna, lekin lahoo hai gaadhha
Faulaad se banaa hai, har naujavaan hamaara
(Our condition cannot get worse. But, our willpower is immense.
Each of our youth is built of steel).
I am not against smaller states for administrative efficiency, but I am uncomfortable about giving in or pandering to identities. The challenges we face are existential and hence much bigger than squabbles over identities. As land holdings reduce geometrically, how our agriculture would face threat of climate change worries me. Agriculture now runs on the steroids of cocktail of chemicals and excessive water—how long can it sustain itself?
Hyderabad, Chennai, Delhi, Gurgaon, Mumbai—these economic powerhouses don’t even have reliable water supplies. A major part of the country has dipped into fossil water as we pump the earth dry. I feel anxious as the demographic shift occurs before my own eyes—rapid, unplanned urbanisation causing the cities to drown in their own sewage (including our national capital).
The academic system churns out unemployable youth by the millions—setting the stage for massive discontent, fanning hopes by steroidal entitlement programmes and not by substantive economic progress. What makes me worried is that these issues don’t capture and fire the popular imagination.
Reported hushing up of a journalist’s brutal murder (by setting him on fire) in lieu of large cash compensation and a couple of government jobs is the symptom of a decaying society—but then why blame? Faced with acute desperation due to continued lack of opportunities, can justice ever be delivered? I don’t think so (reminds one of TN Seshan’s essay, Rich Get Richer, Poor Get Children).
I am encouraged that from the ramparts of the Red Fort, we boldly identified toilets for all as a national goal. The creation of an ecosystem of inclusive financial infrastructure is the only way to end the mai-baap culture. Creative rejuvenation of urban centres, rivers and water bodies, idea of re-imagining of governance, are clearly the silver linings. I felt very small when a Japanese proudly told me: “You can drink water from any tap in Japan.”
I yearn to die in a India where every tap gives potable water.
Kholi and not the bench, meaningful taalim, gainful majuri and rebuilding the nation—miljul ke, as poignantly penned by Sahir Ludhianvi, give the core of our necessary national agenda.
Chin o Arab hamaara, Hindustan hamaara
Rahane ko ghar nahi hai, sara jahaan hamaara (Hindustan hamaara)
(China and Arabia are ours. So is India. Homeless are we; yet, the world is ours. India is ours.).
Khholi bhi chhin gayi hai, benchen bhi chhin gayi hai/ Sadakon pey ghumta hai ab karvaan hamaara
(Huts have been snatched away from us. Not even a bench is ours. People of our kind now roam the streets).
Jebein hai apni khhali, kyon deta varna gaali/ Woh santri hamaara, woh paasban hamaara
(Empty are our pockets. Or else, why would have our sentries and guardians abused us?)
Chin o Arab hamaara, Hindustan hamaara/ Rahane ko ghar nahi hai, sara jahaan hamaara ( Hindustan hamaara)
(China and Arabia are ours. So is India. Homeless are we; yet, the world is ours. India is ours.).
Jitni bhi bildingein thhi, sethon ney baant li hai/ Footpath bambai ke hai aashiyaan hamaara
(All the buildings that were there have been taken away by the rich. Bombay’s footpath is our home).
Sone ko hum kalandar, aate hai Bori Bunder/ Har ek kuli yahan ka hai raazdan hamaara
(We, the wanderers, come all the way to Bori Bunder to find a place to sleep. Each and every coolie here is our confidant).
Chin o Arab hamaara, Hindustan hamaara/ Rahane ko ghar nahi hai, sara jahaan hamaara (Hindustan hamaara)
(China and Arabia are ours. So is India. Homeless are we; yet, the world is ours. India is ours.).
Taalim hai adhuri, milti nahi majoori/ Maalum kya kisiko, dard-e-nihaan hamaara/ Chin o arab hamaara
(Our education is incomplete. We can’t find employment. Does anybody know the deep pain in our hearts? China and Arabia are ours).
Patlaa hai haal apna, lekin lahoo hai gaadhha/ Faulaad se banaa hai, har naujavaan hamaara
(Our condition cannot get worse. But, our willpower is immense. Each of our youth is made of steel).
Mil julake is vatan ko, aisaa sajaayege hum/ Hairat se munh takegaa sara jahaan hamaara
(All of us will come together and turn this nation around such that the world will look at us in awe).
Chin o Arab hamaara, Hindustan hamaara/ Rahane ko ghar nahi hai, sara jahaan hamaara
(China and Arabia are ours. So is India. Homeless are we; yet, the world is ours.).