इतना भी हमसे न शरमाइयेगा

'Itna Bhi Humse Na Sharmaiyega' is one of the six Sawan songs listed without a singer. C. Ramchandra composed it to I. C. Kapoor's lyric. The title is a piece of light flirtation, and its most interesting feature is grammatical: the whole line is cast in the honorific 'aap' register, so the teasing is delivered with elaborate formality.

There is no recording to describe. Songs of this type in the mid-1940s were usually kept light and quick-footed — a brisk medium tempo, dholak or tabla well forward, short phrases with room for a smile in the delivery — because the comedy lives in timing rather than in melody. C. Ramchandra had a real gift for this lighter register, which is what Master Bhagwan would later build entire films around; in 1945 it is present but not yet the signature.

The line's charm is in its register clash. 'Sharmaiyega' is a courteous future-imperative — the form one uses with a stranger or a superior — and 'humse' is the plural-for-self that adds another layer of ceremony. Wrapping a flirtation in that much politeness is a standard comic device of Urdu-inflected Hindi song: the speaker keeps every rule of decorum while saying something entirely improper by the standards of decorum, and the gap between manner and meaning is the joke. It also tells us something about the scene the song must have served — two people who are not yet on familiar terms, which in a 1945 'social' usually means an early courtship sequence. The Hindi Film Geet Kosh preserves the mukhda, which extends the tease with a warning that the shy one will regret it; beyond that nothing survives, so nothing further is inferred about the verses.

Sawan (1945) was produced by Sanjivan Art Productions of Bombay and directed by Dwarka Khosla, with Motilal and Shanta Apte at the head of the cast. C. Ramchandra wrote all nine songs to lyrics by I. C. Kapoor; no plot summary of the film survives in accessible sources, so what is known of its content comes almost entirely from the song titles preserved in the record catalogues. The presence of a light comic-flirtatious number alongside a protest duet and a reformist address is typical of the period's programming logic: a nine-song score was expected to cover several registers so that no section of the audience went unserved.

The song does not circulate in any form and appears in no anthology. It survives as a title, and its interest now is chiefly linguistic — it is a small, dated example of how Hindi film lyricists used honorific grammar as a comic instrument, a device that thinned out as film Hindi grew more colloquial after the 1950s.