The Many Moods of Asha Bhosle

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Just as I did when Lata Mangeshkar passed, I’ve spent the last two weeks soaking in the magic of Asha Bhosle’s voice. I have discovered ‘new’ old songs; Shalini has sent me yet others that she discovered in her own exploration, and I have sought the comfort of the familiar. It was as if I was listening to the soundscape of my life. 

In her long career, Asha voiced songs for leading ladies to vamps, and sang every category of film song from bhajan to cabaret, from ghazal to ‘club’ songs, from loris to disco. To straightjacket her into one category, then, is to deny ourselves the joy of exploring her versatility. [In an essay on her mother for Rediff,  the late Varsha Bhosle spurned the word ‘versatile’ in reference to her mother as the hypocrisy of the industry, which treated Asha as a ‘fallen woman’ and typecast her as a ‘cabaret/mujra/qawwali singer’ until she married RD Burman. Whereupon, she suddenly became ‘versatile’.] 

However, Asha indeed inhabited several universes, straddling the pathos of SD Burman’s melodies for Bandini with the same felicity with which she smouldered for his son. So, continuing my exploration of Asha Bhosle’s songs under various themes, here’s a curated list of songs that highlight various moods and/or emotions. 

Carefree – Jhoom le matwaale dil
Pinjre ke Panchhi (1966)
Music: Salil Choudhury
Lyrics: Shailendra
[Persis  Khambatta] 

Picturised on Persis Khambatta (in her debut, and credited in the movie as Miss Poonam), fresh off her Miss India win, this Asha Bhosle ditty is a lovely little melody in a film that didn’t deserve it. I love the way Asha modulates her voice and the jazzy vibe of the music. Typical of Salilda, the melody is rather complicated yet Asha's voice ebbs and soars with seeming ease. 

Pinjre ke Panchhi is famous (or infamous) for two things – first, this was the only film directed by Salil Choudhury, based on his own story and screenplay. Secondly, it was on the sets of this film that Meena Kumari was publicly slapped by her husband’s secretary, leading to her walking out on her marriage.  

Joyful – Lo chale hum behke kadam
Zimbo (1958)
Music: Chitragupt
Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri 

Listen to Asha’s utterly joyous rendition of this lovely song from an obscure film. Composed by Chitragupta, an underrated composer, and picturised on Chitra, the melody truly evokes the emotions of a young girl who has fallen in love for the first time. As she walks blithely alone in the jungle, she ruminates over how unexpected it was to meet someone like him, how it was love at first sight for her, and how she cannot explain the intoxication she feels to anyone.
Loosely based on the legend of Tarzan of the Apes, Zimbo was properly Indianised by Homi Wadia and filed as Toofani Tarzan in 1937. He remade the film in the late 50s, and added a chimpanzee to the mix.

I’d two other songs on my shortlist – Ye bahaar ye sama from Dilli ka Thug (1958/Ravi/SH Bihari), which showcased synchronised swimming, and Aankhon aankhon mein ho gaye mast ishaare (also picturised on Chitra) from Khazanchi (1958/Madan Mohan/Rajinder Krishan); either would have suited this mood admirably.  

Romantic: Dhalti jaaye chundariya hamari
Nau Do Gyaarah (1957)
Music: SD Burman
Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri

In tone and mood, Dhalti jaaye chundariya resembles Lo chale hum behke qadam, in that the lyrics represent the emotions of a young woman in love. But there the similarity ends. Here, Raksha (Kalpana Kartik) who has fallen in love with Madan (Dev Anand) is not shy of sharing her feelings with her beloved. She cannot stop smiling as she explains that while love came silently along, it is the season to give in to the emotions. There’s a little frisson of laughter in Asha’s voice that makes you wish you were young again. (And in love!) 

When you talk of the songs of Nau Do Gyaarah, Dhalki jaaye chundariya is unfairly overlooked, perhaps because the romantic duets became so very popular. This is a sweet melody all the same, and deserves to be better known.

Reminiscent – Yehi woh jagah hai
Ye Raat Phir Na Aayegi (1966)
Music: OP Nayyar
Lyrics: SH Bihari

Hindi films are full of heroines who die unnatural deaths and return to haunt their then-beloveds in the present. Here, the ‘ghost’ is Sharmila Tagore as Kiran, exhorting Suraj (Biswajeet) to remember his past life (and her, of course). So, she takes him to all the places they had ostensibly visited, reminds him of all the promises he had made to her, and rues that he does not remember any of it. Asha’s voice is filled with both sweetness and pathos, and the setting – the misty hills, the beautiful woman, the bewildered man – is appropriately mysterious. Yehi woh jagah hai is one of my all-time favourite Asha solos and has previously made its appearance on my song lists. 

Bewildered: Daiyya ye main kahaan aa phansi
Caravan (1971)
Music: RD Burman
Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri

This is yet another favourite – Asha at her zaniest best, singing for Asha Parekh, who reveals a totally unexpected talent for physical comedy. Persuaded to dance in front of a decidedly down-market audience in a barn with livestock, and dressed in an odd assortment of clothes that includes a lampshade on her head, Sunita (Asha Parekh) is at her wits’ end. Especially since she claims she cannot sing.

But, sing Asha (Bhosle) does – the singer once said it was one of the hardest songs she’d ever sung – and does so beautifully. Her voice transcends mere playback, becoming a performance in itself. RD straddles the fine line between genius and insanity in this fantastic composition where he incorporates the sounds of people clapping, jeering and even thumping their feet into the melody.

Inebriated: Aao huzuur tumko
Kismat (1968)
Music: OP Nayyar
Lyrics: Noor Dewasi

Yet another of my perennial favourites (though not for the picturisation), Aao huzuur tumko is Asha at her seductive best. The sighs, the hiccups, the way she slurs over some words… Asha lets her hair down [figuratively] in style. But it is the total control she has over the notes, seemingly rising and falling at random, that never fails to impress me.
I’ve written about the OP Nayyar-Asha collaboration earlier; like the Burmans (and even Ravi), OP gave her some of her best numbers. The creative output of each of them is spectacular, but together, they were magic. 

My alternate selection for this mood was a Chitragupta composition from a film called Shikwa (1974) - Tum jhoom le sharaabi (lyrics by Hasrat Jaipuri)

Poignant –  Thandi thandi saawan ki phuhaar
Jagte Raho (1956)
Music: Salil Choudhury
Lyrics: Shailendra 

As a villager on the run from vigilante justice (Raj Kapoor) finds sanctuary in an apartment building, he becomes an eyewitness to the secrets and lies of respectable society. In one apartment, he’s privy to a poignant scene between a drunk dilettante (Motilal) and his long-suffering wife (Sumitra Devi). She just wants her husband home, paying attention to her; he, drunk almost to a stupor, wants her to sing and dance for him. Under duress, she gives in – this moving, expressive number sung beautifully by Asha, a tribute to her exceptional talent and excellent voice modulation.

My other choice for this mood is the equally fabulous Ab ke baras bhejo from Bandini (1963), composed by SD Burman, with lyrics by Shailendra. In an interview, Asha had confessed that she had broken down while recording the song; it reminded her of how her first husband had isolated her from her family. 

Heartbroken: Dil lagaakar hum ye samjhe
Zindagi aur Maut (1965)
Music: C Ramchandra
Lyrics: Shakeel Badayuni 

Caught in a web of spies and treachery, Geeta (Faryal) finds love with Ashok (Pradeep Kumar), a police officer. On their way to meet his mother, the train they are travelling in is bombed by the villain’s minions. One day, Geeta, who had been mourning Ashok’s death, is pleasantly shocked when she spots Ashok in the nightclub where she works. Alas, Ashok has lost his memory in the crash and doesn’t recognise her. Heartbroken, Geeta sings the ghazal he had once sung to her. 

Asha’s voice modulation is fabulous, grief and pathos intermingling with a deep poignancy at the seeming betrayal. Despite Faryal murdering the piano, this lovely ghazal deserved a better film, but hey, if a B-movie camp is your poison, then you can’t get any better than this weird ‘spy’ movie with a charismatic villain with a fantastic ‘den’, a horde of minions and unique ways of killing anyone who crosses him.

Comforting: Dukh aur sukh ke raaste
Hum Dono (1961)
Music: Jaidev
Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi

In happier times, he had asked her Ke zindagi ke raah me/Jawaan dilon ke chaah me/Kayi maqaam aayenge/Jo humko aazmaayenge… Now the time has come for her to face the challenge, and she rises to the occasion. Her love, her encouragement, her support are all his for the asking – will he not confide in her? Quietly, he takes solace in her proximity and the comfort she offers. 

Asha’s voice is sweet and subdued in this ode to unconditional love. The achingly romantic Abhi na jaao chhodkar is similar in melody if not in mood, and Jaidev, another criminally underrated composer, keeps the musical accompaniment to a minimum to allow Asha’s voice to shine. She is quietly controlled, the nuanced modulation investing her voice with the serenity of hope.  

Philosophical – Aage bhi jaane na tu
Waqt (1965)
Music: Ravi
Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi

Unlike many beautiful songs that are shoehorned into the film for no reason at all, Aage bhi jaane na tu comes at a pivotal point in the plot. It’s sung at a party at Chinoi Seth’s (Rehman) house. At the same party are Ravi (Sunil Dutt) and Meena (Sadhana), whose union is opposed by the latter’s mother; Vijay (Shashi Kapoor), Chinoi Seth’s chauffeur and Renu (Sharmila Tagore), Ravi's foster sister who loves Vijay, and sundry other guests. As the entertainer (Erica Lall - am I the only one who thinks she resembles Raakhee?) continues to sing, much is happening on screen. Before the evening ends, a necklace will be stolen, a murder will be committed, and several lives will be upended. 

Aage bhi jaane na tu must surely rank among Ravi's best compositions, if not the best. And what an absolutely fantastic song this is – lyrics, music, voice, picturisation, all come together to create a classic. Asha is sublime here.

Devotional:  Tora mann darpan kahlaaye
Kaajal (1965)
Music: Ravi
Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi

Bhajans are not the usual genre of songs typically associated with Asha, yet here is "Tora mann darpan kahlaaye”, where the devotion in her voice infuses the lyrics with delicate clarity. Here, she eschews all ornamentation, preferring surrender to a higher power. substance over style, and simplicity over elaborate vocal callisthenics.

This bhajan, picturised on Meena Kumari, plays against the title credits and the initial scenes of the film.

Maternal – Chanda re chhupe rehna
Lajwanti (1958)
Music: SD Burman
Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri 

In the essay by Varsha that I referenced above, she mentions how Asha, fleeing from a bad marriage, had resolved never to be dependent on anyone ever again. Not even on her own family. She wanted to give her children the freedom to be themselves, the freedom that only she could sanction. It’s that strong maternal feeling that comes through in this lovely lullaby from Lajwanti, a song reprised in the film, albeit in a different mood. Here, the mother (Nargis) is all happiness as she rocks her baby to sleep.

My alternate choice for this mood was the not-so-well-known Pavan more angna mein dheere dheere aana from Shehnai (1964), composed by Ravi with lyrics by Rajinder Krishan. 

Alluring: Aaiye meherbaan
Howrah Bridge (1958)
Music: OP Nayyar
Lyrics: Qamar Jalalabadi

No one quite embraced ‘sultry’ like Asha did. She became the voice of female desire, of women who were emancipated enough to own their own sexuality. Here, her voice is as much a ‘performance’ as Madhubala’s on-screen smoulder. There’s a freedom implicit in her voice, an abandon that a typically ‘chaste’ heroine could not express, a smokiness that complemented the hazy atmosphere of a seedy nightclub. Listen to her stress the second syllable in Aaiye; it invites you to share that freedom, to let your hair down… for many listeners, she’s the tantalising taste of mystery; her voice, the soundscape of allure.

Enticing: Dil cheez kya hai
Umrao Jaan (1981)
Music: Khayyam
Lyrics: Shahryar 

Asha’s ability to inhabit a song, not merely sing it, made her a performer par excellence. Listen to her in the stellar score for this film, not just in this ghazal. Her voice caresses the notes, lingers on phrases, pauses with delicacy, making the ghazals more than just the sum of their parts. Her voice is enticing, inviting her male audience into a universe of pleasure that only she can provide.
By this time, Asha had been singing for nearly four decades. Yet, when Khayyam pushed her out of her comfort zone, requesting that she sing a few notes below her usual voice, Asha was game. It was the secret to Asha’s longevity – the ability to reinvent herself time and again. And in Umrao Jaan, the depth in her voice complemented Rekha’s stunning turn as the tragic courtesan.

 Coquettish: Paan khaaye sainyya hamaaro
Teesri Kasam (1966)
Music: Shankar-Jaikishan
Lyrics: Shailendra 

If Umrao exhibited the nazaakat and the adas of a more refined age, then Paan khaaye sainyaa hamaaro is earthy, rambunctious and more coquettish. Asha’s voice is spirited and come-hither as befitting a nautanki dancer whose job it is to cater to lascivious men. The sensuousness inherent in her voice mingles with a note of mischief – listen to the iterations of ‘hoye hoye’ and the husky chuckle… –  without sounding cheap or vulgar. 

My alternate choice was SD's Najar laagi raja tore bangle par (lyrics by Majrooh) from Kala Pani (1958), which is equally coquettish, if quieter. 

Patriotic: De di humein azaadi 
Jagriti (1954)
Music: Hemant Kumar
Lyrics: Pradeep

For some reason, our films had adult female singers playback for children, whether male or female. If you ignore the fact that Asha is singing for Master Rattan, this is a sweetly patriotic song that celebrates the Father of the Nation. I must confess that for a woman in her 20s, she sounds remarkably youthful in this song. Written in the heady days following our independence and Gandhi’s assassination, the song eulogises Gandhi’s efforts to win us our freedom through non-violence.
 
A dozen music directors, over 20 songs; I sneaked in a few more songs into some of the 'moods'. I’d so many more songs to fit these moods and so many more ‘moods’ to explore, but this post was already far too long. Perhaps you could add your choices to this list?