New Bollywood songs screw parental authority

The Christian Science Monitor focuses attention on a growing epidemic in Indian society: kids no longer listen to their parents. The cause? Perhaps it is the glorification of parental disrespect and all the “following your heart” crap embedded within today’s Bollywood songs, as compared to those of yesteryear that kept it real (Mera Juta Hai Japani).

Indians have as many words for “love” as the Inuit have for “snow.” Songwriters choose from the many subtle variations: pyar (affection), mohabbat (love, in Urdu), prem (love, in Hindi), ishq (passion), or even junoon (obsession).

These sweet nothings are timeless, but the lyrics surrounding them have changed dramatically. In the 1950s, boys and girls would pine for each other, but accept their parents’ or society’s better judgment. Today’s lover lives and dies by his or her own mistakes or inner faults – immaturity, pride, poor dress sense – and the modern concept of love is spreading at the speed of sound to cities and villages, on radios and music videos, and into the minds of the humming masses.

The result, cultural watchers and filmmakers say, is a country teetering between its traditional rules and the giddy individualism of the West, with profound effects on India’s urban youth.

“This is the first generation that believes that tomorrow will be better than yesterday,” says Santosh Desai, president of the advertising firm, McCann Erickson, in New Delhi. “There’s this sense that the world is opening up with the lifting of constraints. There is an unspecific optimism, and one part of it is economic, but the other part is the lifting of mental barriers.”

My favorite part of this article has to be the English translations of what I assume are popular Hindi songs. Can anyone name these tunes?

In the 1950s, songs warned against falling in love, because of what people would say. “Be careful lest the world see us together/ and our love will become a story for people to tell,” went one popular tune.

By the 1980s, young people were ready to defy the world, at least in the films of Bollywood. “I’m a lover, you’re a lover/ so what are mommy and daddy to us/ the whole world is useless,” another song proclaimed.

And in the 1990s, filmmakers were pushing the outer boundaries of taste. “What’s behind your blouse?” sang a hero in one infamous tune. “My heart,” the heroine replied. (Perhaps the proper response would have been “one tight slap.”)

The last time I sang “what’s behind your blouse” to a girl (while we danced around a tree), I did in fact get slapped. The article ends with some quotes that mirror what my mom told me last night. I implied that my blogging career was more important than marriage but she wouldn’t hear it.

“There are a lot of young people who are getting married late,” says Mr. Akhtar. “I wouldn’t say that they have been put off of love. It’s more that they are cautious about the process being right. They want more fun, and they want to have achieved something by the time they settled down.”

But just as the aging sex pots on HBO’s “Sex in the City” can attest, freedom does not always bring happiness. Putting aside traditional arranged marriage for a “love match,” can increase the risk of divorce later, many Indians believe. Putting off marriage to pursue a career also increases the risk of not getting married at all.

8 thoughts on “New Bollywood songs screw parental authority

  1. “I’m a lover, you’re a lover/ so what are mommy and daddy to us/ the whole world is useless,”

    I think it went something like: ‘main premi, aaha.. tu premi, aaha; phir kya daddy kya amma… ek bas tu hi, pyaar ke kaabil; saara jahaan hain nikamma’

    Aah the good old days! 😉

  2. Theme song for this post – Amma dekha haan dekh tera munda bigda jaye, iske lambe baal kata de, hindi bol isko sikhla de, Jaldi se shaadi karva de, Amma dekh..

    (Translation – Mommy take care you son keeps getting worse, get his long hair cut, teach him how to speak hindi, get him married)

  3. Y’all read Malcolm Gladwell’s “Blink?” It’s not because of songs, or parents, or any of that.

    It’s peers. They have it all backwards. The fillum industry reacts, because it’s a market. That’s what markets do: try and feed demands.

    And anyway, take it from this jaded old desi. Getting married ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Freedom, especially with one of dem Sex In The City lovelies, ROCKS.

    You guys ever wonder why desis have such a deep fascination with love? You think it’s because we’re so often denied it or what?

  4. I haven’t been denied love much, I think. I’m still quite fascinated by it. Whats with the generalisations my friend.

  5. So I just came across the following lines from Nadeem Aslam’s recent book Maps for Lost Lovers. Some searching uncovered the lyrics for a song from the movie Khal Nayak.

    i: cholii ke piichhe kyaa hai, cholii ke piichhe ? chunarii ke niiche kyaa hai, chunarii ke niiche ? a: ho, cholii me.n dil hai meraa, chunarii me.n dil hai meraa cholii me.n dil hai meraa, chunarii me.n dil hai meraa ye dil me.n duu.ngii mere yaar ko, pyaar ko!

    Nadeem Aslam provides the following translation (‘i’ is a guy and ‘a’ is the girl replying):

    i: What are you hiding behind that blouse? What is being kept covered under that veil? a: That blouse contains my heart, The veil conceals my heart: The heart which I’ll give to my lover, to my beloved.

    Within Nadeem Aslam’s story a taxi driver turns the song off after he hears the guy’s question, unaware of the ‘modest’ and less rauncy than expected reply of the girl.

    This movie is from 1993. I have not seen it, but perhaps the caution of Yash Chopra in CSM’s article is a bit misguided. Or at least Scott Baldauf needs to rethink how he sees a change in how Hindi films (and Indians) view love and sex. Tastes will invariably change, but people like Yash Chopra (who’s recent Veer Zara was an awful movie) seem to be the last people who should have a final word on how sexual norms are changing for the worse.