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| 28.09.1929 |
It is not that there weren’t
good singers before her, or after. It is just that when she burst on the scene
and found her bearings, there was no one who could match the purity of her
voice or her control over pitch. Kambakth kabhi besuri nahin hoti is what
Bade Ghulam Alisaab had to say after listening to her sing Ye zindagi
usi ki hai. What is more, she made it seem effortless.
Perhaps being able to hold pitch at an impossible octave was also her weakness.
It certainly made music directors give her compositions that were pitched
higher and higher. She once complained to Shankar-Jaikishen that they were
making life difficult for her by only giving her songs in the higher
octaves.
It
is difficult, nay, well nigh impossible to choose her ‘ten best’ songs or even
my 'favourite' songs from her oeuvre. I have ‘favourites’ that run into hundreds.
I have no idea then how to categorise this selection – By heroine? By music
director? By mood? I do not know.
Out of the many, many songs that I
love, here, on her 83rd birthday, I have picked a few solos, in no
particular order, which will always be close to my heart. They display her
amazing range, and a gamut of emotions. (Lata Mangeshkar was known to ask about
the character’s age, her background, and the situation, before recording
the song.)
Lyrics: Naqshab
Full of hope and
longing for a lover who will come one day, the singer wonders Tadpega koi kab
tak be-aas be-sahaare, then reassures herself, Lekin yeh keh rehe hain dil
ke mere ishaare – aayega aayega aanewala – he will definitely come.
This is
definitely the Lata song, the number that catapulted her into the top
league. She was 20. From its haunting beginning – Khamosh hai zamana,
chhup-chhaap hai sitaarein - she had it under perfect control, each note ringing
true and pure. Exquisite!
Producers Ashok
Kumar and Savak Vacha, and music director Khemchand Prakash had a difference of
opinion about the song, but the latter stood firm, so sure was he of his
composition. Eventually, the veteran music director’s opinion prevailed, and
they recorded the song.
Director Kamal Amrohi had a vision of how to evoke the mood and atmosphere that he was looking for through this song. In order to create the effect of the song coming from far away, Lata stood in the corner of the studio, far away from the mike. She began singing the alaap, walking towards the mike as she did so, and then sang the refrain ‘aayega aanewala’ as she reached the mike. They repeated this process many times to finally record the song. It took them a whole day.
Director Kamal Amrohi had a vision of how to evoke the mood and atmosphere that he was looking for through this song. In order to create the effect of the song coming from far away, Lata stood in the corner of the studio, far away from the mike. She began singing the alaap, walking towards the mike as she did so, and then sang the refrain ‘aayega aanewala’ as she reached the mike. They repeated this process many times to finally record the song. It took them a whole day.
Even after the recording, producer Vacha remained unconvinced.
However, upon release, the song justified its
music director’s belief. Unfortunately, Khemchand Prakash passed away not knowing of its success. In
those days, the singer’s name was not credited on the music disc. Therefore,
when the song was released, it was credited to ‘Kamini’, the name of
Madhubala’s character in Mahal.
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| Lata & Salilda Courtesy: rediff.com |
Parakh (1960)
Music: Salil Choudhary
Lyrics: Shailendra
This is one song that will rank among my all-time favourites. I love the cheery pitter-patter of the rain, the sheer exuberance (albeit quiet) of love, the notes that trill and ebb with such ease – the music, the lyrics, the singing, the picturisation where a luminous Sadhana, in love with the village school master, is enjoying the rains, its music echoing the beats of her heart – this is one song where they all meld into that harmonious romantic whole. It never ceases to make me smile.
Salil
Choudhary’s compositions were not easy to sing. There were so many high
notes and low notes that the musicians were often flustered, but Lata
Mangeshkar enjoyed singing them. In this song, listen carefully to how the
notes rise and fall in the antara - Aisi rhim-jhim mein o sajan, pyaase pyaase
mere nayan tere hi khwaab mein kho gaye – and then rise to a crescendo with
Saanwli saloni ghata... Beautiful!
(Parakh has
another of my favourite numbers – the softly rendered Mere man ke diye, which was Lata's personal favourite. Salilda was a genius!)
In an interview,
Lata once said, "Over the course of my life I have worked with over a hundred
music directors. Of these, perhaps only ten understood both music and cinema.
And of these ten, Salilda was the foremost."
An exuberance of
a different kind. The kind that comes from being so happy that one is now in
love with tears – Ho chuka hain mujhko aansuon se pyaar – that one does not
want any more happiness – Mujhe tu khushi na de, nai zindagi na de... Waheeda lip-syncs
so beautifully to Lata’s voice that you really do not know who is acting and
who is singing.
The Hindi
version of Hemantda’s Bengali composition, O nodi re, he changed the
orchestration, using violins, cellos and the bamboo flute to great effect. Kohra,
inspired by Rebecca, had some wonderful songs; another favourite from the
same film is the haunting Jhoom jhoom dhalti raat.
Lata Mangeshkar
was a great fan of Hemant Kumar’s even before she had met him. The first song
she recorded for him (as composer) was for Vande Mataram.
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| Lata & C Ramchandra |
Anarkali (1953)
Music: C Ramchandra
Lyrics: Rajinder Krishen
This has been a
personal favourite even before I watched the film – the doomed love story of a
prince and a courtesan had me shedding enough tears, and Lata’s voice held such pathos as Anarkali (a very beautiful Bina Rai
on screen) bids farewell to her lover. What if they
could not meet in this life? Another awaits – Do dil yahaan na mil sake, Milenge
us jahaan mein, Khilenge hasraton ke phool, Jaake aasmaan mein.
I confess that
when she gets to "Ae zindagi ki shaam aa, Tujhe gale lagaoon mein, Tujhii mein
doob jaaon mein, Jahaan ko bhool jaaoon mein, Bas ik nazar mere sanam, Alvida
alvida...", I am in tears. (I’m a romantic, what can I
say?)
Even now, when I watch its picturisation, I
mentally exhort Prince Salim to ride faster so he can get there before they
bury her alive. (I also wonder why the heck he couldn’t just break the wall
down when he reaches there, instead of just sitting and crying! But then, there
wouldn’t be a story, would there?)
C Ramchandra was
not the original composer of the film. In fact, composer Basant Prakash (composer Khemchand Prakash's younger brother) had
composed and recorded one song with Geeta Dutt. His untimely death brought in
C Ramchandra. He composed the entire score for the film, on condition that Lata
sing all the songs. Filmistan, the producers, agreed, but the Geeta Dutt song
Aa jaane wafa remained.
What very few
people know, is that part of Ye zindagi usi ki hai was composed by Roshan. C Ramchandra did not
feel that he was getting the right tune for the
verse 'Sunaayegi ye daastan shama mere mazaar ki, Khizaan mein bhi khili rahi ye
kali anaar ki, Ise mazaar mat kaho yeh mahal hai pyaar ka,' and asked Roshan, who
was there in Filmistan at the time, to give it a try. Roshan borrowed the
harmonium and composed the tune for that verse on the spot.
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Lata & Shankar-Jaikishen
Courtesy: sjmusic.org
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Dil Apna aur Preet Parayi (1960)
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen
Lyrics: Shailendra
Another song
that has been a favourite for as long as I have been listening to Hindi songs.
Once again, the lyrics are full of pathos – she is in love with him, now
he is married to another. Her love is not selfish; she can only hide her tears
and wish him well. Congratulate him, even though, in
becoming dear to someone, he has gone far away from her... Mubarake tumhi
ke tum, kisi ke noor ho gaye, Kisi ke itne
paas ho,ke sabse door ho gaye...
Lata’s voice is
soft, full of the pain of heartbreak, of seeing one’s hopes and dreams dashed
before they have time to bloom. Shankar-Jaikishen imbued the lyrics with just
the right dash of music, its lilting melody complementing Lata’s voice in
exquisite detail.
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Shankar-Jaikishen
Courtesy: sjmusic.org
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Aah (1953)
Music: Shankar-Jaikishen
Lyrics: Shailendra
Another
melodious SJ composition, this song is heart-rending in its yearning.
Inexplicably jilted by her lover who has since vanished without a trace, she
cries out her longing and her heartbreak, her loneliness intensified by the
deepening night. When the wind rustles the leaves, it startles her. The
path on which he should have come is disappearing; he never came, but the
seasons came and went a hundred times. And now, as she weeps at night,
holding his memories close to her, the moon and stars weep for her.
Seene se
laaga teri yaad ko, roti rahi main raat ko, Haalat pe meri chaand taare ro gaye
shabnam... Lata’s voice
quivers with pain and sorrow.
Lata Mangeshkar shared a close and often fractious friendship with Jaikishen; she fought with him often and sometimes, fiercely, but they always made up. They met for the first time when Raj Kapoor sent Jaikishen over to Lata Mangeshkar’s house to ask her to record some songs for Barsaat. She had seen Prithviraj Kapoor in Kolhapur, and had met Raj Kapoor just a few days previously. When Jaikishen came, Lata told her sister Meena, “Raj Kapoor had sent someone over; perhaps it was his office boy. He was so handsome- maybe the people who work for the Kapoors are as good-looking as the Kapoors.” Imagine her embarrassment when she went to RK’s office and was introduced to the ‘office boy’!
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| Lata & Madan Mohan Courtesy: rediff.com |
Woh Kaun Thi (1964)
Music: Madan Mohan
Lyrics: Raja Mehdi Ali Khan
Naina barse is the more popular song from this film, but Lag jaa gale is achingly, hauntingly sweet, an effect heightened by the allure of Lata’s voice. It is ethereal, enticing, dare I say, seductive? There is also the sense of something ephemeral, here today – a wish to snatch some moments of happiness from the fates. What if tomorrow never comes?
Lata first met Madan Mohan when he recorded a duet with
her for the film Shaheed under Ghulam Haider’s baton. But the song was never
used in the film and it was deleted from the disc as well. Madan Mohan was
one of Lata’s favourite composers, and after an initial misunderstanding, he asked her to tie a rakhi on him. After that, he
was always Madan-bhaiyya to her, while Madan Mohan called her beta.
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| Lata & Jaidev Courtesy: rediff.com |
Hum Dono (1961)
Music: Jaidev
Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi
I don’t usually like bhajans, I don’t usually like Nanda, and the combination should have put me off completely. Yet this is a song that quietly crept into my favourites and stayed there.
Wives praying for their husbands’ safety, and at the same time appealing for peace, it was shot beautifully by Vijay Anand. Composed by Jaidev (so under-rated a composer), Allah tero naam just flowed with the story. Lata rendered it so beautifully, I can understand how a bhajan can be a spiritual experience. And honest confession? Nanda’s reaction to the song, the sweetness of her expression, just added to its overall attraction.
Jaidev assisted
both Ali Akbar Khan (Aandhiyan, Hum Safar) and SD Burman. Hum
Dono was his
first break as composer, and he delivered a wonderful score. Lata was
not on good terms with Jaidev at the time, and had refused to sign Hum Dono until coaxed by the Anand brothers.
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| Lata & Burmanda |
Sazaa (1951)
Music: SD Burman
Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi
Aah.
Now this is
one song that I cannot bear to watch. Beautiful, beautiful melody,
lovely
lyrics but murdered onscreen by Nimmi making faces. (I truly wish she
wouldn’t;
she was quite pretty.) She had a total of 2½ expressions. Like Leela
Chitnis being bedridden/dying in film after film, Nimmi seemed to be
stuck with playing morosely martyred/ slightly mental characters. But I
love the song so much, I will listen to it with my
eyes closed.
A few years later, Burmanda
and Lata Mangeshkar had a disagreement that led to a five-year rift
between the two. That rift was a boon to Asha Bhosle, who, along with
Geeta Dutt sang most of SD's compositions during the period. The warring
pair reunited for Bandini (1963).
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| Roshan Lal |
Aji Bas Shukriya (1958)
Music: Roshan
Lyrics: Farooque Qaiser
Recording a
song brings back so many memories of happier times. What is one to do when on
the one hand, the memories of a lost love burn inside, and on the other, the
moon fans the flames? Ik to balam teri yaad jalaaye, Dooje chanda aag lagaaye,
Aag lagaaye teri preet jagaaye re neend na aaye, Saari saari raat teri yaad
sataye...
Roshan preferred
using Indian musical instruments and was proficient on the dilruba himself. The
song, though composed by Roshan, was recorded by Naushad. Roshan was recording
the song at Mehboob studios when Naushad arrived. Holding his colleague in high
esteem, Roshan requested him to record the song for him; Naushad complied,
instructing Lata and the musicians without changing a single note of Roshan’s
composition.
(I don't know
what this says about me, but more than half the songs on my list are the
pathos-ridden songs that tell of love and longing and heartbreak.)
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| Ghulam Haider/Lata Mangeshkar Courtesy: rediff.com |
Majboor (1948)
Music: Ghulam Haider
Lyrics: Nazeem Panipati
Back when Lata
first started her career, she was strongly influenced by reigning songstress
Noor Jehan. Not only that, many music directors also wanted her to sing that
way, considering her voice too thin (patli) for a heroine. In fact, Shashadhar
Mukherjee even rejected her citing her voice as unfit for Kamini Kaushal, who was the heroine in Shaheed. Master Ghulam Haidersaab was irritated; taking the young
girl with him, he stomped off, promising her that she would sing for Majboor, a
film he was doing for Bombay Talkies.
While they waited for the train, he tapped a tune on his cigarette case, and asked her to sing Dil mera toda mujhe kahin ka na chhoda after him; pleased with her rendition, they recorded the song after a two-day rehearsal. It turned out to be the first ‘hit’ song of Lata’s career. There is an edge of rawness to her craft still, but one could see the talent and the skill that was waiting to be honed.
While they waited for the train, he tapped a tune on his cigarette case, and asked her to sing Dil mera toda mujhe kahin ka na chhoda after him; pleased with her rendition, they recorded the song after a two-day rehearsal. It turned out to be the first ‘hit’ song of Lata’s career. There is an edge of rawness to her craft still, but one could see the talent and the skill that was waiting to be honed.
Lata considers
Ghulam Haider saab her mentor. He is the person who taught her to pay attention
to the lyrics, to enunciate them clearly, and to consider the actress who would
be enacting the song on screen.
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Lata & Khaiyyam
Courtesy: rediff.com |
Aakhri Khat (1966)
Music: Khaiyyam
Lyrics: Kaifi Azmi
Lata’s voice in this song is deeper than usual, especially in the lower notes. A hill maiden, her emotions wakening with the advent of spring, awaits someone who will be hers, who will love her, marry her. The hope in the song tugs at your heartstrings, its sweetness intensified by the pure emotion in Lata’s voice. Who hasn’t longed for love?
Na jaane kiska
saaya dil se guzra, Zara awaaz dena raazdaaron, bahaaron... Spring holds her
secrets dear.
Lata sang very few songs for Khaiyyam, but the ones that she did were incomparable. Khaiyyam first met Lata when she was recording for Ghulam Haidersaab for Majboor. He was fascinated by the new singer. According to Khayyam, Lata’s greatest merit was in understanding the need of each individual music director, and moulding her voice according to the character on screen. (She learnt her lessons well.)
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| Lata & Sajjad Hussein Courtesy: rediff.com |
Rustom Sohrab (1963)
Music: Sajjad Hussein
Lyrics: Jaan Nisaar Akhtar
Ah, sweetness. The song is mostly in the higher octaves, but yet there is a softness to the notes. A lilting tune with subtle middle eastern undertones. Her control over the notes is astonishing.
It was Lata Mangeshkar’s guru Amanat Ali Khan Devaswale who introduced her to Sajjad Hussein. Lata has said in interviews that she was always apprehensive when she sang for the notoriously hard-to-please music director. Sajad Hussein's compositions were complex, and he was very particular about the notes, and the instruments being tuned perfectly.
Her first song for the taskmaster was Aaj mere naseeb ne in Hulchul, but
according to Sajjad, it was deleted
from the film. (Lata chose this as her favourite from the songs she sang
for Sajjad.) He composed three songs for the film, but didn’t complete Hulchul because the producers didn't pay him. (The score was completed by Mohammed Shafi.) Like Madhubala, Sajjad
eventually had it written into his contract that he would only compose if Lata
sang.
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| Lata & Ravi Shankar Courtesy: www.aacm.org |
Anuradha (1960)
Music: Ravi Shankar
Lyrics: Shailendra
One
sighs for
the days that were, when music filled the air. Today, without music, the
strings of her veena are silenced as well. The frustration of a
neglected wife
(the complete cluelessness of her hardworking husband having brought
them to
this pass), finally breaking out in song. Her dreams have withered; as
she
sings, the pathos in her voice breaks her husband’s heart. Is it too
late for
them? Lata moves from the low notes to the high ones, staying there
awhile before falling back with hardly a pause to caress the low notes
once again.
Pandit Ravi Shankar had already composed music for films like Dharti ke Lal, Neecha Nagar, and Satyajit Ray's Apu trilogy. Before he came on board as music director, the film had been offered to Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan. This was Ravi Shankar's first 'commercial' score.
Pandit Ravi Shankar had already composed music for films like Dharti ke Lal, Neecha Nagar, and Satyajit Ray's Apu trilogy. Before he came on board as music director, the film had been offered to Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan. This was Ravi Shankar's first 'commercial' score.
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| Lata & Anil Biswas |
Tarana (1951)
Music: Anil Biswas
Lyrics: DN Madhok
Who would have thought that a hero twirling the heroine’s curls, or she running her hand through his hair as she sings him to sleep could be so sensuous? Fingers clasp and unclasp, trail over faces and wind themselves in tresses; smiles flash as he plays with her bangle... there is laughter, there is love, there is a mild flirtation. Above all, there is an innocent sensuality that is in keeping with the character of a village girl who finds herself swept off her feet by the sophisticated city doctor.
This is a very sensuous romantic number, and the
first time Madhubala and Dilip Kumar starred together. It is said they fell in
love during the making of this film; whether that be true or not, they
definitely set the screen on fire. Their chemistry was unbelievable, and lent a
certain charm to a straightforward love song. Anil Biswas’
music played languorously in the background, complementing the softness of
Lata’s voice.
He was one of the earliest composers that Lata worked with. He was a sociable soul and singers, including Lata, and musicians seem to have spent an inordinate amount of time in his house. Lata credits him with teaching her how to breathe while singing; how to inhale and exhale between words so that it wouldn't interrupt the song. He also taught her how to modulate her voice, and how to ensure clarity before the microphone.
Lata soars effortlessly in this Na`at (poetry that specifically praises the Prophet), her voice rising fluidly as Anarkali, chained and thrown into the dungeon for her audacity in falling in love with the prince, appeals to a higher power. Naushad was all praise for Lata’s range as she effortlessly scaled an octave and a half.
The first song
that Lata recorded for the maestro was a duet Haaye chore ki jaat badi bewafa
with GM Durrani for a film called Chandni Raat. In his own way,
Naushad was as
hard a taskmaster as Sajjad. Lata confessed that when they finished
recording, Naushad would say, “Excellent, Lata. Very good. Once more.”
These are not
necessarily her ‘best’ songs, but they will definitely rank among some of the
best songs from the period. It is only when I finished listing the songs that I
realised that, with the exception of Shankar-Jaikishen who appear twice, every
song is by a different music-director. Considering the wide difference in their
styles – Sajjad Hussein and Shankar-Jaikishen being on the opposite sides of
the spectrum, for instance – it speaks to Lata Mangeshkar’s capabilities that
she could adapt so beautifully to each one.
I have
restricted myself to her solos here, leaving the duets for another post. For
someone whose voice has given me years of pleasure,
whose songs from her golden period still echo my feelings better than I can ever express them - Many happy returns of the day, Lataji.
*Acknowledgements:
*Acknowledgements:
- Lata Mangeshkar... In her own voice. Conversations with Nasreen Munni Kabir
- www.salilda.com
