My friend R.R. never rings the bell. He whistles his arrival. In the midst of a conversation, his whistled tune never fails to stop a thought mid-sentence. Some days, I deliberately open the door late, only after the first two lines have been whistled. It could be a Beatles track, a Dev Anand song or an R.D. Burman number. “Your whistling is the best in the world I tell him.” (One must mention R.R. is a well-known musician). It reminds me of all the beautiful tunes in Hindi films that lent themselves to a whistling track. Did you know there is a man called Nagesh Surve who has whistled in over 1,500 such films?
A private companion
Hindi cinema has had its memorable moments of whistling. There is something about the act of it. It is different from humming or singing, an interlude between stanzas and words. It is used to serenade the lover. It is like your private companion in the moments between things to do or say.
The 1957 film Nau Do Gyarah begins with Dev Anand driving a truck and whistling a part of the famous song ‘ Hum hain rahi pyaar ke, humse kuch na boliye’. As he gets out of the Capital, he and his whistled song keep each other company against the changing landscape of Fatehpur Sikri, the Taj Mahal, and the countryside. The whistling adds to the anticipation and the promise of something new in the character’s solitary journey.
Around the same time, Raj Kapoor walks the city in the Anari (1959) song ‘Jeena isi ka naam hai’, complete with whistling interludes in his spirited but lone wandering. In ‘ Yeh Shaam Mastani’ from Kati Patang (1970), Rajesh Khanna serenades Asha Parekh, whistling the tune before he breaks into the song. His whistle and words capture their forbidden attraction away from the public gaze.
Whistling is an interlude that can have an esoteric story of its own to tell. So there is the gentle teasing of a statuesque Madhubala on a surreal stage by Kishore Kumar in ‘ Nakhrewali’ in New Delhi ( 1956). Then there is Waheeda Rahman walking away from sanity as the song ‘ Tumhara intezar hai’ ends with whistling in the film Khamoshi (1969). The whistling in Khamoshi has a sense of foreboding; unlike the other songs it carries no cheerful promise, only loneliness for the protagonist withdrawing from the scene.
Howrah Bridge (1958) has the sparkling Madhubala mouthing a whistle along with Ashok Kumar in ‘Yeh kya kar dala tune’ as their romantic ride stretches out against the backdrop of city signage. A similar moment is also heard in ‘ Yeh hawa, yeh nadi ka kinara’ from Ghar Sansar (1958). Humour fills the whistling in the Chaplin-esque song sequence of ‘Aana meri jaan Sunday ke Sunday’ (Shehnai 1947). And then there is my favorite: the theme music of Sholay (1975), which has a short whistling section. Arranged by R.D. Burman, the tune holds surprises along with images of a classic western and gives only a fleeting glimpse of the adventure that the film was going to hurl on the history of Indian cinema.
‘Zindagi mil ke bitayenge’ from Satte Pe Satta (1982) is about seven brothers living away from the city, and their camaraderie and togetherness. One of the younger brothers plays the mouth organ, while the older brother, with the control of a pied piper, leads the brothers to their everyday farm duties accompanied with his merry whistling.
Evoking nostalgia
In the politically charged Maachis (1996), a young group of men remember the terrain as it was, their nostalgia of the uncorrupted past captured in a whistled tune in ‘ Chhod aaye hum wo galiyan’.
Whistling has a language of its own, and is often used as a code in times of war. It interestingly resonated in the southern plantation economies in 19th century America and heralded the beginning of blues music. At a time when the slaves were not allowed to communicate with each other, they would whistle tunes while working in the fields, creating a silent collective, remembering the sounds of their loss.
In India, whistling has another tuneless side too. Hindi cinema has endless instances of stalkers and goons using the whistle to harass and intrude into the personal space of women. In Prahaar (1991), a young woman casually mentions her discomfort with the whistling by a group of jawans to the army major played by Nana Patekar. Patekar then demonstrates the various kinds of whistles, till a short sharp lecherous sound reminds the girl and audience of the piercing sting of a whistle meant to harass women. The scene, a unique one, sums up everything that can be done wrong with a whistle.
Easing tension
In Tezaab (1988), a tense moment is eased when the whistle and the song that follows it travel through the silent night after a successful mission of rescuing the heroine. Like in the old tunes of Hindi films where whistling filled the thoughts of the lonely walker, Hindi cinema has and must continue to rescue the whistle from the clutches of its tuneless use. Much like Kajol merrily whistling a tune celebrating her friendly victory in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1988) or the Howrah Bridge song where a vivacious Madhubala enacts the whistled introduction, with a tune on her lips and freedom in her stride.
Thw writer is an assistant professor in English literature at Sri Venkateswara College, Delhi University.
