On Lata Mangeshkar (a tribute by her sister)

 

In the late 1990-s, I started watching Javed Jaffrey’s Videocon Flashback on Channel V. It was obvious that beneath the comic exterior of the anchor, lay a very discerning listener, who took pride and joy in presenting good songs, irrespective of their popularity.

In one such episode, he had spoken admiringly about composer Sajjad Hussain... his talent and his tempestuous nature... his penchant for perfection & his abrasive views... and, his admiration for Lata Mangeshkar’s singing skills.

As the showcase song, Javed Jaffrey played ‘aye dilruba’ from Rustam Sohrab (1963). I was stunned beyond words.

Jaffrey described it as a ‘languid beauty’. He, aptly, pointed out that the song, picturised on a lady, appearing sad and listless on screen, had been rendered skilfully with an enunciation which did not stress on any syllable of the lyrics… with a sense of resignation to fate.

And yet, in this ‘held-back’ singing, there were subtle vocal ornamentations, so typical of the melodies of Central Asia, executed with stunning perfection.

To use a cricketing analogy, it was like VVS Laxman at Eden Gardens in 2001. The batsman was conscious that his knock needed to be a cautious, rear-guard action and yet there were those glorious drives off Shane Warne, through mid-wicket (against the spin!), using those silken wrists, embedded with ball-bearings of steel.

In ‘aye dilruba’, one can easily discern the might of expertise in Lata Mangeshkar’s gayaki even as the poignancy of the rendition envelopes our senses.

A few years ago, I had the immense luck for being at the right place, at the right time. Mrs. Lajwanti Gupta (Lajo-di), the affable daughter of Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, had invited my friend (Shankar Iyer), and me to her cozy apartment in Central Mumbai and she had generously organised a tete-a-tete with her famous neighbour, Asha Bhosle!

It was an evening of dizzying joy, in which I had the privilege of playing many lesser heard gems of Asha Bhosle, which surprised her pleasantly.

The session must have enamoured her sufficiently, for us to be summoned again, within a fortnight. This time, the music-listening session went on for over 4 hours. We primarily played solo songs from her massive body of work. Asha-ji was very amiable & candid in the comfortable & informal ambience.

Then, came a sudden request: “abhi didi ka ek gaana sunaao… woh Sajjad-saab waala gaana.”

As the strains of ‘aye dilruba’ filled up the room (via a nice, portable Bose speaker), Asha-ji shut her eyes to absorb the song.

After those magical 200-odd seconds, there was silence. All of us looked at Asha-ji for her reaction and comments. She opened her eyes, wiped the brimming tears off them and softly uttered just three words…‘yeh hai didi’!

There has been no dearth of tributes showered on Lata Mangeshkar during her lifetime. From heads of states, to ordinary citizens... across the length and breadth of this diverse subcontinent... everyone’s unequivocal views have been consistent… her's is the voice to savour for ever.

Yet, in my humble opinion, those three words, uttered with gentle respect and deep affection, by her incandescently talented sibling (and most formidable professional rival), encompass the greatest ever tribute to Lata Mangeshkar.

The song:

aye dilruba - Rustam Sohrab (1963)
* Music: Sajjad Hussain   *Lyrics: Jan Nisar Akhtar

An audio version:

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