Yeh Aadam is a Punjabi movie that was released on April 11, 1986. I’ve not been able to locate any data about its success at the box office, which is probably evidence of its being a flop.
The film starred the giant of Pakistani Punjabi cinema Sultan Rahi along with his erstwhile female co-star Asiya, who shared the honors with him in the 1979 super-duper-wooper hit Maula Jatt.
Punjabi cinema was dominant in Lahore in the mid-1980s. The golden era of Urdu language social dramas that targetted the urban middle classes was waning fast. President General Zia ul Haq was nearly a decade into his political/social/moral crusade to clean up the Land of the Pure. After the advent of the VCR and rise of the small screen, the film industry was struggling to justify its existence. Public life became constricted as families, and women especially, retreated (or felt compelled to stay) indoors. And if, as a filmmaker, you could not depict physical affection between men and women, and any sort of partying or dancing or general merriment was frowned on by censors, what remained to attract people to the movies?
In keeping with the times – a war in Afghanistan, politically sponsored violence in major cities, rise of small arms and narcotics – Lollywood turned to other audiences and violence. Punjabi films such as Yeh Aadam extolled traditional and rural values – clan loyalty, blood feuds, manliness – and drew upon the urban poor or migrant labourer markets. Sultan Rahi, Mustafa Qureshi, Chakori and Asiya were the top-billed names and would remain so until the Punjabi film market itself nearly died out in the mid-’90s.
The music for Yeh Aadam was composed by Nazir Ali and M Javed and called upon the singing talents of the best in the industry: Noor Jehan, Shaukat Ali, Mehnaz and Masood Rana. Sometimes, it’s the music that rescues a film from complete oblivion but not in this case. Nazir Ali was an accomplished veteran composer with a long string of hits to his credits, but M Javed, who is credited by EMI on the album label as the main composer, remains a mystery.
So if the film stunk (apparently) and no hits came out of the soundtrack (it seems) and the music director is a non-entity (based on quick searches on the internet) why are we highlighting the film?
The answer is simple: Alam Lohar. Without a doubt one of Pakistan’s – no, South Asia’s – most important folk artists, Alam Lohar’s presence in any soundtrack is worthy of attention. Lohar was a natural singer who came up through the nautanki. His voice is raw and full of vigour, if not exactly polished. But it was his charisma as a performer as much as for his voice that Pakistanis loved and continue to appreciate him.
Allah Allah Allah Haq Allah Hoo is a simple Sufi song of the sort you’d hear around the tomb of any saint in rural Pakistan (or northern India for that matter). Though this version has been gussied up in the studio, the basic folk elements are clear and audible: strong percussion, morchang (a local version of the jaw harp) and simple lyrics.
The title of the song is a traditional Sufi chant. It credited to one of Mohammad’s four companions, Abu Bakr, and is associated with the Naqshbandi silsila (order) of Muslim mystics. It simply means “Allah is Truth, Allah Is.”
In between this refrain, Lohar inserts other short verses that refer to the Almighty’s other attributes and qualities such as his glorious aura (shaan) and powerful throne (takht).
All in all this song is a wonderful little gem rescued from an otherwise barren and arid landscape.
A version of this story appeared on the blog https://dailylollyblog.wordpress.com/ and has been reproduced here with permission.
