तेरी ये रोशनी जहाँ में

One of the eight titles listed for Hatimtai Ka Beta (1945), 'Teri Yeh Roshni Jahaan Mein' is recorded by HindiGeetMala — which renders it 'Teri Yeh Roshni Jahaan Me' — and by MySwar, in both cases with singer, lyricist and music-director columns left blank. Cinemaazi credits the film's music to Bulo C. Rani. No recording survives in circulation and no source describes the number. The title alone establishes its register: an address in the intimate second person to a 'You' whose light fills the world, which in the Urdu devotional vocabulary of the period points unambiguously at the divine rather than at a beloved.

The score is credited to Bulo C. Rani — born Bulo Chandiram Ramchandani in Hyderabad, Sind, in 1920, at Ranjit Movietone from 1939, and an assistant to Khemchand Prakash on Tansen and Sukh Dukh before he took films of his own. 1945 was the year he broke out: Moorti, which carried Mukesh's 'Badariya Baras Gai Us Paar', and Chand Chakori both belong to it. A fantasy picture for a small Bombay banner in the same twelve months is a useful reminder that a working 1940s composer's calendar did not separate the prestige assignment from the costume quickie. What this particular number sounded like, however, cannot be recovered — no disc, no print and no contemporary notice of it is known, so its instrumentation, its tempo and even the sex of the voice that carried it are all beyond statement.

Roshni — light — is the hinge on which Urdu devotional verse turns from description to praise, because light is the one attribute a poet can point to in the visible world and assign entirely to an invisible owner. The construction here does exactly that: the light is in the world (jahaan mein), but the possessive teri places it outside the world's ownership. That is the grammar of hamd, the poem of divine praise, and it is also the grammar of the naat's opening gesture. Within a Hatim Tai picture the choice is not decorative. The dastan is a morality tale, its hero's defining quality sakhawat — generosity practised as religious obligation — and a score built around such a hero would be expected to carry its devotional numbers as load-bearing material rather than as interludes. No verse of this song is documented, so its actual argument, and whether it addressed God or the Prophet or a saint, remains unknown.

Hatimtai Ka Beta — catalogued in English as Son of Hatimtai — was a 1945 costume fantasy from Bharat Productions of Bombay, 122 minutes, certified U/A, directed by Nanubhai Vakil (Cinemaazi adds a second director, Dharam Kumar) with Sarojini, Navinchandra, Prakash, Ansari, Nariman and Azara Mumtaz in the cast. Its title attaches it to the dastan of Hatim Tai, the pre-Islamic chieftain of the Tayy tribe whose name became the Urdu byword for boundless generosity and whose seven quests were staple Parsi-theatre material long before Bombay filmed them in 1929, 1933, 1947, 1956 and 1990. 'Ka Beta' was not an adaptation but an invented continuation — the sequel habit that let a small banner reuse a proven property's sets, costumes and audience recognition without paying for a remake.

The song's afterlife is a blank column. Eight titles from this film survive in the HFGK-derived listings that HindiGeetMala and MySwar reproduce, and for all eight the singer and lyricist fields are empty. A production that carried eight numbers past the censor in 1945 has left behind not one identifiable voice. That is not a failure of this entry but its subject: the gramophone companies documented what they pressed, the B-circuit fantasy film was frequently not pressed, and so a measurable slice of 1945's musical output exists today only as a row of titles. Keeping the row on the record — accurately, with the empty fields left empty — is the one thing still worth doing for it, until a Geet Kosh page or a surviving disc says more.