The Real Story Behind Dhurandhar's ‘Na To Karvaan Ki Talash Hai’: How Roshan Lal Nagrath and Sahir Ludhianvi Wove Krishna, Meera, Buddha and Sufi T...

There was a time when Hindi film songs did not merely decorate cinema — they remembered it. They carried within their verses centuries of faith, rebellion, longing, philosophy and lived history. Today,

many of these songs resurface as background scores, remixes, or nostalgic callbacks for a younger generation that may hum the tune without ever knowing what it truly holds. For those who grew up in the 1980s and 1990s, however, these songs arrived differently. They weren’t content; they were conversations — with poetry, with belief systems, with India itself.Something remarkably similar unfolded recently when Dhurandhar, Aditya Dhar’s blockbuster, arrived on screens. Amid bullets, brute masculinity and cinematic swagger, an old melody quietly resurfaced in the trailer’s dying seconds. By the time the film released last Friday, the audience barely had time to settle into the chaos before a 65-year-old qawwali began flowing underneath the violence.“न तो कारवां की तलाश है,न तो हमसफर की तलाश है…”It was fleeting. Barely two lines. But for those who recognised it, the moment carried far more weight than any explosion on screen.

When songs are more than mood pieces

Modern cinema often uses music to set tempo — fast for chase scenes, soft for romance, loud for celebration. But historically, Hindi film music performed a more demanding role. Songs carried ideology. They advanced narrative. They held mirrors to society. Most importantly, they borrowed freely from India’s civilisational memory — Sufism, Bhakti, Nirgun philosophy, Persian poetry, classical ragas, and folk traditions.Aditya Dhar’s decision to weave Na To Karvaan Ki Talash Hai into Dhurandhar is not accidental. Dhar belongs to a school of filmmakers who understand that music can add historical depth without announcing it loudly. Much like his previous work, the song here is not nostalgia bait. It is emotional subtext — a reminder that beneath every act of defiance lies a philosophical question.And that question has existed long before cinema.

The song that carried many faiths in 13 minutes

Na To Karvaan Ki Talash Hai originally appeared in the 1960 classic Barsaat Ki Raat, one of the biggest box office successes of its time. Written by Sahir Ludhianvi, composed by Roshan Lal Nagrath — grandfather of Hrithik Roshan — and sung by an ensemble that included Mohammed Rafi, Manna Dey, Asha Bhosle, Sudha Malhotra and S.D. Batish, the song went on to become one of the greatest qawwalis in Hindi cinema history.But calling it “just” a qawwali would be doing it an injustice.This 13-minute musical journey is a confluence of Bhajans, Radha–Krishna leela, Meera’s devotion, Buddhist wisdom, Christ’s compassion and Sufi surrender. It opens in the language of love and gradually peels back layers until love itself becomes divine inquiry.Sahir Ludhianvi’s central idea is deceptively simple: true love does not need a caravan, nor a companion. It is a solitary spiritual journey.“मेरे शौक़-ए-ख़ाना खराब को,तेरी रहगुज़र की तलाश है…”It is romance, yes — but stripped of possession. Desire becomes introspection. Passion becomes pursuit of truth.

Roshan’s gamble with silence and length

Composer Roshan Lal Nagrath, often remembered quietly despite his immense contribution, took a creative gamble with this composition. At a time when film songs were growing shorter, he delivered a 13-minute piece that demanded patience.There’s an anecdote often recalled by senior critics: when Roshan returned home after composing the qawwali, he mentioned its length to his wife. Her response was practical — “इन दिनों कोई चार मिनट का गाना नहीं सुनता, आप 13 मिनट की कव्वाली बना आए हो.”Director P.L. Santoshi, however, trusted the music completely. That trust paid off. The qawwali didn’t just succeed — it became untouchable.Its recording itself was an event. Conducted at Famous Studios near Mahalaxmi, the session reportedly began after midnight to avoid even the faint sound of local trains. Roshan wanted silence — not absence of sound, but absence of distraction.

Rafi, Manna Dey and the idea of ‘defeat’

One of the most fascinating aspects of this qawwali is its internal musical duel. Manna Dey’s voice, often the default for classical gravitas, is seen ‘losing’ to Mohammed Rafi’s character within the film’s narrative.Manna Dey later remarked that this was never about superiority. It was storytelling. Just as in Baiju Bawra, where Tansen’s voice carried inevitability and authority, here too the story demanded emotional surrender.“There is no defeat,” he said. “Music wins.”Interestingly, Sahir used the word ‘ishq’ 86 times in the song — a record in Hindi film music at the time. The repetition is not indulgence; it is insistence. Ishq is not romance here. It is metaphysical restlessness.

Inspired, not imitated

What often goes unnoticed is that Na To Karvaan Ki Talash Hai itself was inspired by an earlier qawwali — Na To Butkade Ki Talab Mujhe, sung by Mubarak Ali and Fateh Ali (Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s father) in the 1950s. This lineage matters. Indian film music has always thrived on reinterpretation rather than replication. Inspiration is acknowledged. Roots are respected.This tradition continues even today. Songs like Yeh Ishq Ishq or Flipperachi carry echoes of older compositions, often unknowingly to younger listeners. What changes is not the emotion — only the packaging.

Dhurandhar and the intelligent use of memory

In Dhurandhar, only two lines of the qawwali are used. The third line never arrives. Yet the tone and pitch are heightened, altered subtly to suit Ranveer Singh’s intensity. It is old wine in a sharper glass.There is joy in seeing such songs resurface. There is also a quiet ache. Because history, when reduced to background, risks being unheard.Yet Dhar’s choice ensures that the song is not decorative. It is confrontational. Violence plays out while a philosophy of detachment hums underneath — a contradiction that feels deliberate.

Songs that carried India’s history quietly

This tradition did not end with the 1960s. Filmmakers like Imtiaz Ali and lyricists like Irshad Kamil have consistently drawn from historical and spiritual reservoirs. Kun Faya Kun leans into Sufi mysticism. Phir Se Ud Chala speaks the language of exile and belonging. Nadaan Parindey echoes Bhakti poetry disguised as a road song.These are not lyrical accidents. They are inheritances.Hindi film music, at its best, has always been less about entertainment and more about emotional archaeology.Na To Karvaan Ki Talash Hai survives not because it is old, but because it refuses to age. Its ideas remain relevant in a world still grappling with meaning, attachment and faith. It reminds us that love, when stripped of possession, becomes philosophy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D36lJx1j44A

When such songs appear in contemporary films, they carry the weight of generations. They speak differently to different listeners — nostalgia for some, curiosity for others.And perhaps that is their greatest triumph.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qCVXCFREkQ&list=RD8qCVXCFREkQ&start_radio=1

They wait.Quietly.For anyone willing to listen beyond the tune and into history itself.