On Lata Mangeshkar (A Song From Halaku - 1956)

A scene from Halaku (1956). The lead actress, Meena Kumari and a group of ladies are bound by ropes, at a palm-tree-laden oasis within a desert. The distraught heroine is questioning the Almighty about the veracity of His verdict.

bol mere maalik tera kya yahin hai insaaf
jo karte hain laakh sitam unko tu karta maaf
bol mere maalik tera kya yahin hai insaaf…

(Tell me o Lord whether this is your justice... That you would just pardon those committing such myriad crimes!)

It is human tendency to let emotions overcome our senses when questioning the Judge. When treated unfairly, we tend to start off on a high pitch and then, as the entire weight of emotions bear us down, we step down from the emotional crescendo. While doing so, we cannot help but stifle a sob or betray a ‘choke of the voice’.

This kind of muted yet assertive emoting was right up Lata Mangeshkar’s alley. Her tonal quality paints an image of a quintessentially petite and coy lady and yet, her enunciation, diction and general way of singing has *assertion* written all over it… something that one identifies with the ‘pucca’ classical singers of our subcontinent.

This delightful dichotomy is what, in my opinion, makes Lata Mangeshkar the immensely successful singer that she was (during her heydays, which spanned across at least two and a half decades) and 'bol mere maalik' is one shining example of this trait.

After an elaborate 90-second prelude (a situational requirement in the movie), Lata starts off on a high pitch, beseeching the Almighty. Once the rhythm starts, the line ‘bol mere maalik…’ is repeated thrice…  Twice, around the ‘Sa’ of the higher octave. Then, when the line is sung for the third time, the notes descend to the main tonic (‘Sa’) of the song. The protest is made in a raised voice, and the emotional deluge is indicated by the scaling down of the notes, thereafter.

It is here that Lata has resisted the temptation of slipping in a melodramatic quiver of her voice, or a sob, to convey this. All that she does is to constrict her articulation of the word ‘insaaf’ for a small instant to convey ‘choking with emotion’. This is executed so subtly and beautifully, that one can only marvel at the intellectual refinement that she brought in her singing, despite the situational temptation of ‘over-emoting’.

Peerles aesthetics.

She does it on two more occasions, during the two ‘antara’-s: first in ‘daaman mere habeeb ka haathon se chhut gaya’.. (on the word ‘gaya’) and later in ‘apni zubaan pe naam bhi teraa naa laayenge’… (on the word ‘laayenge’)

A memorable song from a memorable soundtrack.

Shankar Jaikishen, in the epicenter of their purple patch, used their Midas touch to craft this song on the soulful words of Hasrat Jaipuri. And, in typical ‘SJ-style’ they have internalized the phrases of raag Madhuwanti to leave their indelible stamp of class on this song.

Raag Madhuwanti’s introspective nature has mostly manifested itself in slow and contemplative songs like ‘rasm-e-ulfat ko nibhaaye to nibhaaye kaise’ (‘Dil Ki Raahein’ – 1973 – Madan Mohan) or ‘chukchukali paal ek’ (Marathi Non Film – 1968 – Shrinivas Khale).

Shankar Jaikishan’s collaboration with Lata Mangeshkar is arguaby one of the most radiant outputs in the history of light music of our subcontinent... especially in the decade of the 50-s. They brought forth an hitheto unheard flamboyance & flourish in their songs, which the frail lady from Mangeshi, Goa executed with elan.

The glorious use of cellos accentuates the poignancy of raag Madhuwanti and also gives a ‘symphonic’ feel to the orchestration. Then the chorus, hums in a subdued manner to lend a magical touch to this song.

Fusion of music at its very best... thanks to the two utterly talented music arrangers, Sebastial D'Souza & Dattaram Wadkar.

Sebastian D'Souza & Dattaram Wadkar

Here is the song:

bol mere maalik
Halaku (1956)
Shankar Jaikishan - Hasrat Jaipuri

A speculative thought... Lata Mangeshkar's brother Hridaynath, was a young and impressionable boy whe this song was recorded. It is said that he used to accompany his sister for several recordings in the mid-50-s.

I cannot help but feel that Hridaynath Mangeshkar’s use of the humming chorus for the Madhuwanti-based song of Lata Mangeshkar, ‘ko birahini ko dukh jaane ho…’ (Non Film – ‘Chala Wahi Des’ – 1974) is almost like a tribute to this magnificent composing duo.

Here is the song. An amazing rendition.

Shankar Jaikishan have been role models for an entire generation of composers and even Hridaynath Mangeshkar was surely impacted.

And when one has an artist of the stature of Lata Mangeshkar as one's elder sister, the possibilities of excellence are immense.

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Post script: 

Here are the links of the other two songs of Lata Mangeshkar, which are based on raag Madhuwanti. Both are laced with poignancy. It takes the genius of Shankar Jaikishan & his talented arrangers to infuse a touch of symphony in the song from Halaku

This is what the beauty of our cine-sangeet is all about... Clever and innovative fusion.

1. Rasm-e-ulfat (Dil Ki Raahein -1973)
Composer - Madan Mohan

2. Chukchukali paal ek (Marathi Non Film -1967)
Composer - Shrinivas Khale

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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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On Rahul Dev Burman

For the last quarter of a century, every discussion about R.D. Burman, has unfailingly veered towards how difficult his last days were and how his fair-weather companions had deserted him during the sedate days of his career.

This fact is not untrue. However, it is time to purge these gloomy (and often, indignant) sentiments and celebrate the work of this amazing composer. A composer who had carved a unique niche for himself, outside his illustrious father's formidable shadow. One also needs to bear in mind that he had the privilege of witnessing (& later assisting) his father inside the recording rooms, as a mere teenager (since the mid 1950-s). This was a privileged circumstance. To be able to get a ringside view of the making of a song, right from the ideation till the finished product, gave him an exposure that he leveraged capably during his composing days.

Also, his father's locus standi in the world of music, enabled him to interact with and learn from classical legends like Ustad Ali Akbar Khan & Pandit Samta Prasad. It also accorded him extra respect during his tenure as his father's musical assistant (something which a normal music-assistant may not have garnered).

All these factors must have been instrumental in his getting a break as an independant composer, in his early 20-s. (For the record, his father began his career in Bombay at the age of 40).

R.D. Burman, as Burman-da ka beta, obtained comprehensive musical exposure... and did he deserve it! With his incandescent talent, he left a mark that impressed some of the very best in the trade.

Here is what the revered composer, Anil Biswas, had to say about R D Burman (an excerpt from an interview on A.I.R. Vividh Bharati.) Please listen from the 5:05 mark

Not many in the Film Industry of Bombay have seen the commercial adulation that R.D. Burman had experienced in the 1970-s. Talented composers through the 1950-s to 1970-s have spent entire careers without tasting optimal commercial success... Madan Mohan, Jaidev, Chitragupt, Roshan, S.N. Tripathi, Sajjad Hussain, Iqbal Qureshi, Sardar Malik, etc... The list is thought-provokingly long...

Even a genius from Salzburg was buried in a pauper's grave in Vienna, in the 18th century, at the tender age of thirty six... unsung and unrecognised.

In the 70-s & 80-s, R.D. Burman was quite the monarch of almost everything he surveyed. Often, during that era, the font-size of his name on movie-posters were as prominent as those of the lead actors. Surely a barometer of significant success.

It is said that imitation is the best form of flattery. Here is a song, composed by the composer's associate, Sapan Chakrabarty, in 1973... the epicentre-year of the halcyon tenure of R.D. Burman.

It has the unmistakable touch of R D Burman's trademark style... including the tonic shift of the mukhda to craft the antara.

To cap it all, the opening line of the song mentions the composer's name. 😊

We need to remember R D Burman on his anniversaries with vibrancy... sans any gloomy thoughts.

After all, his music was vibrant... and uplifting.

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