Tributes to legendary poet and lyricist Gopal Das NEERAJ ji : RAJIV NAYAN BAHUGUNA

I had made many objectionable revelations on him during his lifetime, and for this reason he sent me some reprimand messages but never got upset. Actually Gopaldas Neeraj’s evaluation was minimum in Hindi. There were many reasons for this. The first thing is that he did not allow anyone to stay on the stage. He was called on the stage at the last, because after his recitation half, and sometimes even more, of the audience would get up and walk away. Second, he used to read by singing. Even the crowd of thousands used to get mesmerized on his singing.

But reciting it by singing does not reduce its quality. Nirala also used to sing and study, and sometimes he used to reach the stage with a harmonium. Has it made him less unique?

Neeraj saved the language of Hindi stage from getting corrupted. He was capricious. First he was a typist, then did professorship and then went to films. Even there, ( in Mumbai) he couldn’t adjust, feel happy and bid adieu to Bollywood.

It was said that some heroines had fallen in love with him ? This can also happen. Because he was a handsome, handsome man of Cupid’s collision. Annoyed at this, the arrogant actors and directors of Mayanagari ( BOLLYWOOD) chased him out of Bombay. Because they felt insecure in Neeraji’s presence. Even though most of them are not able to make hair of heroines even due to intoxication and stress. Will sleep with the actress at night like brother and sister, but will not allow others to touch. Ridiculous indeed.

When I asked Neeraj about this once, he gave a vague answer. He liked the company of women very much. Poets are often seen in the conferences in the company of a female companion.

My first meeting with him happened under very strange and accidental circumstances. This is a matter of 1982. My other papers were fine in MA exams, but the matter was nil in the Sanskrit paper. In fact, I rarely went to class, otherwise I used to spend time singing and playing in villages, forests and rivers. Due to my natural interest, I had read the books of MA Hindi course till class 12th, but never studied Sanskrit.

Our professor Govind Sharma, who is very fond of me, saw my copy of the Sanskrit paper after the exam, and he became very upset and worried. Because I had written answers to get maximum 15 marks out of 100. The most favorite and smartest student of the professor was getting failed because of a paper.

The extremely moralistic professor ran to find out where the copy was going to be checked. Then he gave me a pamphlet and 100 rupees and said – “Look, the copies are going to Aligarh for checking. If you can diagnose something, then save my respect and your future. Go and manage, so that you don’t fail.

I left from Uttarkashi directly to my patron and politician Hemvati Nandan Bahuguna to Delhi. I requested Bahuguna him to please call someone and help me pass in Sanskrit. But he clearly nailed it. Said- “After all, morality is also something.” But he definitely did this much that he put a huge amount in my pocket and told me to bear it myself.

Pressing a washcloth full of my notes with one hand, it was already afternoon when I landed at Aligarh. The rickshaw puller took me straight to a nice hotel, the rate of which was Rs 400 then. I ordered a pavva ( liquor quarter) of English from the waiter, had a royal meal, and then after drinking English liquor, asked the manager in English – “Where is Mr GD Neeraj. The famous poet and lyricist.

He laughed and said – “Get down. Any rickshaw puller would take Rs 4 and drop him at Neerajji’s house.”

I got confidence after drinking quarter. Because from the age of 15, I used to roam alone from city to city. Saved from flowing in many rivers, narrowly saved from the sensuality of many sensuous old men, and saved my pocket from pickpockets. I was sure that Neeraj, the emperor of compassion, would definitely have compassion on me. And he did just that. This picture of me with Neeraj is from that time.

When the rickshaw puller dropped me at the gate of Neeraj’s mansion, he was getting “chaat” made from a khomche wala dressed in vest and tahmad ( Dhoti). Even though I had never met him before, I recognized him as soon as I saw him. I got so engrossed in his feet that I got up only when he lifted me.

When I told that I had come from faraway district Uttarkashi only to meet him, he filled me in numbers. After smelling my mouth, he said – you will not drink tea now. Eat “chaat” only. After getting a leaf made for me too, he took me inside by holding my neck.

When we sat side by side on the cane bundles in the verandah, I took a notebook out of my bag and handed over the copy of my poem. Turning the pages, he stopped at one place and got up after reading it. I had a misra of that ghazal-

“Should I dissolve fire in a mountain spring
I should write a sip of aab for Tishnagi.

He started repeating that proverb again and again. Then I understood that my bet has come true. I clarified – “Since I generally did not have the courage to come in front of you, it took me a little to increase my courage.

He said – “I didn’t even ask you this, nor did I object.” I have come to understand that Neeraj is not a pseudo moralist, and he will not mind when I propose to increase my marks by cheating. He informed that after 10 minutes I have to go to the bank. You will also come along. Meanwhile I washed his car. When we sat in that old, open, small and colorful car and went to the bank, it was like a chariot moving, talking to each other, Samdam’s crooked ambush.

He asked, what else do you read and write? Then I told, “I write, but I do not read. That’s why this misery has happened to me. I clearly stated my purpose. There was no wrinkle on Neeraj’s face. He said, “For a brilliant boy like you, a college degree does not matter. You will be given good marks.

In the evening he took me to a meeting where he had already called the targeted professor. The professor requested him for the half-moon. Ravindra Bhramar was also present in that seminar, who was a reputed lyricist of Hindi. He too was under pressure from Neeraj. When finally Neeraj’s number came, he said, today I have got a unique diamond. Today I will recite a ghazal of his.

Saying this, he recited my complete ghazal, which he had seen in my copy during the day. I was amazed at his memory. For a novice, he memorized what he had read once. It is obvious that he was saying this to increase my status, so that the targeted professor would not hesitate to commit fraud in my favor.

He told the professor, take the boy along. Put the number on its copy in front of it and leave it back to my house. When the young Acharya took out my copy from the bundles, his eyes widened. Only three pages were written on the copy, and those too were answers other than questions. He wiped his sweat with his arm, wrote 62 out of 100 on my copy and dropped me at Neerajji’s house.

When we sat drinking in the evening, I saw that Neeraj does not take more than three pegs. While there was a perception of a drunkard about him. I recited Garhwali folk songs and some of his songs to him. He used to smoke both cigarette and beedi, Dhakdhak. The bundle of his beedi came untied and got caught in the threads of his kurta pocket, and he got annoyed. I had already come to Suroor. ( in ebriation)

I said – sometimes the experiences of the little ones are also successful. The cigarette packet should always be opened from the front, and the bidi bundle from the back. When opened from the back, the bundle remains tight till the end, while when opened from the front, it becomes loose only when two bidis come out. Then separate the bundle and separate the bidi. In such a situation, the fun in the old ends, and one has to look for the new. He took a look at me and said, “You look straight, but in reality you are a badass and a player.”

((These are the personal views of the author)