The Lata-SDB Tuning - Meetha Paan

By Dr Arunabha Roy

Close on the heels of “jogii jab se”, and in the same idiom, came another treat “haule haule jiyaa Dole”. The time period is of SDB serving one winning soundtrack after another. With the male singer song fast gaining a popularity edge over the female in the 60s, Lata began to take a bit of a backstage in films like Meri Surat Teri Aankhen and Tere Ghar Ke Saamne, both immensely popular soundtracks. That notwithstanding, the aalaap in Lata’s voice that precedes her brief role in perhaps SDB’s best song for Rafi “tere bin suune nayan hamaare” casts magic as a plaintive flute complements the nightingale’s vocals. Benazir from this time period represents an out-of-the-norm assignment of SDB to a Muslim social starring Meena Kumari and Ashok Kumar (one expected Roshan to naturally do the musical honours). The songs were not bad but one clearly sensed a composer out of his element – though we do get a wistful “husn kii bahaare.n liye” and a classical nugget “mil jaa re jaan-e-jaanaa” in the same film.

Guide cannot be done justice in an article of this form, and its omission may even be perhaps pardonable – as there is nothing that has not been written about it. It has won several polls, most recently one conducted by the Outlook magazine, and its immortality does go beyond those numbers. Even the most jaded listener of those times thrilled as Waheeda Rehman performed a reprise of “aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai” in Lamhe, which song’s Lata’s alaap is one of the unforgettable, signature moments of Hindi cinema.

 Jewel Thief was another winner on all fronts. The beautiful “rulaake gayaa sapanaa”, Shailendra’s sole contribution to an otherwise Majrooh affair, and reportedly written after he suffered the emotional setback following Teesri Kasam, still enchants. But the song I most cherish is my favourite SDB duet, perhaps the best romantic song composed by him. I speak of “dil pukaare”. The song opens heralded by a grand North-Eastern drum roll, after which a flute traces a sinuous path, not unlike the hilly road on which Dev Anand and Vyjayanthimala have a chance meeting in the film. As the lovers unite, a joyous sitar picks up, almost creating a picture of rivers coursing their way to a confluence, when Rafi’s grand entry starts the song. The tune of the antaraa has been used earlier by SDB in “tasveere.n banatii hai.n” (Jeevan Jyoti), but when Lata sings “jo bhii thaa apanaa, laayii huu.N sab kuchh paas tumhaare”, in this song, time stands still in deference. I shall never tire of listening to her masterful emphasis on the words “paas tumhaare”.

 As the decade drew to a close, a change was setting in with Hindi film music. Age was catching up with the doyens. Lata’s voice, the touchstone of all that was perfect in Hindi film music, was showing the earliest signs of the imminent decline. SDB himself began to increasingly suffer from ill-health, although his promise to music-listeners remained firm. Though one saw the youthful magic in Lata’s voice in songs such as “sochake ye gagan jhuume”, and “kitanii akelii kitanii tanhaa”, it became clear that, at the same time

that Kishore ushered in speed and abandon like never before with Aradhana,  it was time now to focus on the mellow and reflective aspect of Lata’s voice.

We will never know the true story behind the change in SDB’s orchestration and his son’s exact contribution to these soundtracks. Two faces now began to emerge to SDB’s soundtracks, in the third and concluding phase of his work. Kishore, by now ubiquitous and in true form, began to weave magic through both solos and duets, in Prem Pujari, Gambler, Sharmeelee, Tere Mere Sapne, and the much-anthologized Hrishikesh Mukherjee trio of Abhimaan, Chupke Chupke and Mili. Lata featured in a large number of breezy duets with Kishore, including winners like “shokhiyo.n me.n gholaa jaaye”, “aaj madahosh huaa jaaye re”, “he mai.nne qasam lii”, but not even the strongest Lata diehard would ascribe their success to Lata. On the other hand, the quieter Lata solos, with decidedly lower profile, began to appear, creating a different 70s Lata-SDB genre by themselves. SDB got her to render Hindi counterparts of a fair number of Bengali folk-songs originally sung by him: “khaayi hai re hamane qasam”, “nii.nd churaaye chain churaaye”, “sun rii pavan purvaiyaa”, “ishaq(sic) pe zor nahii.n”, which had their share of radio-play, but never really matched the appeal of the originals. The true novelty of this period however were the songs sung in a style at times redolent, at others vaguely reminiscent, of the Tripura that SDB had left behind some three decades ago. These were not pure folk songs by any stretch, but they somehow led your mind to conjure up those hilly vistas. Sample from the line up: “aaj ko junalii raat maa.n”, “o mere bairaagii bha.Nvaraa”, “raamaa raamaa gajab huii gavaa”, “khilate hai.n gul yahaa.N”, “meghaa chhaaye aadhii raat”, “jiivan kii bagiyaa mahakegii”, “meraa antar ek mandir”, “tumhre sang to rain bitaayii”, “phaagun aayo re”, “ye jab se huyii”, “ab ke sajan saawan me.n”, “mai.n ne kahaa phuulo.n se” and then the essential soundtrack of SDB-folk: Ye Gulistan Hamara: “gorii gorii gaa.Nv kii”, “o tushimaa rii tushimaa”. The Lata magic lasted till 1975, and SDB made sure that it did not go unused during these last few years of his life. In these songs SDB did that magical thing: to paint a picture using notes, with very evocative and rich orchestration – this is apparent in the songs of Tere Mere Sapne – watch for the beautiful flute pieces in “jiivan kii bagiyaa”, and then in “bairaagii bha.Nvaraa” where SDB cleverly makes the flute itself reproduce the drone of the bee. (this has been bettered only by Hridaynath till date in “ruNu zuNu ruNu zuNu re bhramaraa”)

Finally, a word about a less recognized aspect of 70s SDB, namely his Lata duets. To pair such a tour de force singer with a male singer to good effect could not have been easy, but he did it with felicity. SDB is one of our best composers for duets, and he remarkably did well with the Rafi-Kishore transition in duets and solos alike. The golden Rafi-Lata pairing still shone on the (sadly) now rare occasion (“ye dil diivaanaa hai”, “palakon ke piichhe se”, “terii bindiyaa re”); in addition to a number of unusual duet pairings : “meraa naam aao” (Danny), “kyaa ye zindagii hai” (SDB), “baago.n me.n kaise ye phuul” (Mukesh), “lute koii man kaa nagar”(Manhar). However the history books had been rewritten the day Rajesh Khanna chased after Sharmila Tagore’s bus on that road in Darjeeling, and the preponderance of Kishore-Lata duets in this phase are but one reflection of the phenomenon. Though Lata with Kishore is not a favourite combination in my books, I have enjoyed their SDB songs in Tere Mere Sapne, where a remarkable intimacy is brought to “jiivan kii bagiyaa”, to “aaj madahosh huaa jaaye”, a song that lives its name, to even the zany “chuu.Dii nahii.n ye meraa” which is in a class by its own in the world of duets. The pairing touched its zenith in Abhimaan with “tere mere milan kii ye rainaa”.

 For good composers whose work covers the 50s and 60s decades, it is an idle pastime to pit the decades against one another and speculate- which is better: 50s or 60s?  With composers like Roshan, Madan Mohan and SD Burman, I solve the problem by burning a CD each of my favourite tracks for the 50s and the 60s. And the answer to the question is as unpredictable and varying as the weather on that given day.

            Listen to Lata Mangeshkar Speak about SD Burman
           SD's Music Sadhna  . (Click on link to hear)
           SD's  Nature and Hoton Mein Aisi Baat (Click on link to hear)
           Final Goodbye - Obituary     . (Click on link to hear)

SD Burman with Lata Mangeshkar

Meetha Paan

Sachinda often refered to Lata as his 'First Serve'. The diva had a was a special instrument in his musical expression. It is little wonder then that Lata Mangeshkar takes a centerstage in the SDB-Canvas. Dr Arunabha Roy explores this tuning..

          Perhaps I owe SD Burman (SDB) a greater debt of gratitude than I normally accord him, vis-à-vis my liking of old Hindi film music. What started off casually as an appreciation of the softer songs composed by his son, really took off after I had bought my first exclusive tape of Hindi film soundtracks – Sujata/Bandini. I remember listening to the tape, revelling at individual songs, some of which I was familiar with, some that were new, and some that I discovered anew. But my essential discovery was the fact that soundtracks of this period had practically no fast-forward material.

 It is popular lore that at the close of a successful recording of a Lata-SDB product, SDB would reward Lata with a meeThaa paan. Given his parsimony, one wonders at the small fortune he must then have had to allocate, over the space of his 26 years of recording with Lata, one great song after another, to this paan fund. In many ways, I consider the Lata-SDB song to be a meeThaa paan of sorts. It is compact, shorn of frills, sweet (true to its name) and finally, has that delightfully sharp asperity to it. It is enjoyed by everyone, from the roadside tea vendor to the record-collectors in their ivory towers.

 SDB had what I regard as a non-purist’s approach towards building a soundtrack. The goal was not to create a set of six great emotionally rich melodies, and let the film-maker do with them what he saw fit. His was an approach in close consonance with the demands of the film – resulting in a diverse set of tunes, of varying quality, mood, appeal and singer-choice. It was to their mutual benefit that many of the films that he scored for were commercial successes, bolstering the value and reach of the songs in turn. Through a career that spanned over two decades, overlapping with the time in which his son’s style became the rage, and over the course of which his own style saw at least two major transitions, he nevertheless found a special spot for the Lata song of his film. Amidst the halkaa-phulkaa, breezy songs that are on people’s lips even today, I almost see the purist element asserting in him : “the other songs will sell the film, but let just this one Lata song be special, an enduring classic”

 The earliest SDB soundtrack to feature Lata was Mashaal (1950). Though the songs are all but erased from public space, there are 2 Lata beauties: the poignant “aa.Nkho.n se duur duur hai.n par dil ke paas jo” (sung by a blind Ruma Guha Thakurta), and another, equal beauty, “mere man ha.Nsate huye chal”. This grave latter song embellishes and underscores with minimum orchestration a serious lyric, with a maturity that belies its being created during the early days of a composer. One appreciates SDB’s philosophy behind his Lata song: “a harmonium and Lata are enough for me”.

 Think of emotionally rich pathos songs and SD Burman has several to his credit – “jaane vo kaise”, “ab ke baras bhej”, “saathii no ko_ii ma.nzil”, “o jaane vale ho sake to” and the rich store of peerless background songs sung by the composer. Do you see what I see? Lata surprisingly takes a backseat here; one does not readily associate this pairing with the production of somber, weighty songs. Whether this is an entirely personal notion I do not know; but when it comes to the archetypal sad Lata song of the 50s and 60s, I think of composers like Anil Biswas, Madan Mohan, Roshan, C Ramchandra, and many more, but usually not SD Burman. Indeed, the Lata-SDB sad song has a different complexion altogether, perhaps at a distance from what we conventionally think a sad song “ought to sound like”.

There are of course instances where SDB delivers on this front, with gems like “chaa.Ndanii rate.n pyaar kii baate.n (Jaal), “jaauu.N mai.n kahaa.N”(Miss India ), “ham pyaar kii baazii hare”(Saza), “chhaayii kaarii badariyaa bairaniyaa”(Jeevan Jyoti), and “merii umar se lambii ho gayii”(Society) – but it is not what defines Lata-SDB. One instead thinks of songs that are mellow, with implicit but not-at-the-forefront sadness, such as the all-time Saza great “tum na jaane kis jahaa.N me.n”, “rote rote guzar gayii raat re”(Buzdil), “unhe.n khokar dukhe dil kii”(Angaaray), “chaa.nd phir nikalaa”(Paying Guest) and some years down the line, “rulaake gayaa sapanaa meraa”(Jewel Thief). No one would claim that this latter set are lesser songs, or deny their classic stature, but recall, for example, the guitar-strumming in the Jewel Thief song that introduces us to Vyjayanthimala’s enigmatic character on the boat, would you have seen a song of tear-laden dreams coming your way ?

And then we have the joyful, folkish songs. As one combs the Lata-SDB space of these, what a treasure-chest of delights it is to pick from! Lata is often seen as a singer par excellence of pristine, mature songs of restrained expression, of understated romance. While this is undoubtedly true, it is only half the truth. Her work under composers such as Salil Chowdhury, SN Tripathi, Chitragupt, Roshan and yes, SD Burman clearly gives the lie to such conceptions. Straddling both the cheerful giddy songs of first love as well as the unbridled untamed folk songs, we have happiness in all its variegated flavours. Starting off with the quintessential SDB-Lata song “Tha.nDii hawaaye.n” (Naujawaan), you have Sazaa which is a microcosm of Lata-SDB: “dhak dhak dhak jiyaa kare dhak”, “o ruup nagar ke saudaagar”, to a flawless marriage of classical Nat Bihag with Bengali folk in “jhan jhan jhan jhan paayal” (Buzdil), a perky listener’s delight “mai.n alabelii rum jhum” from the same film – just listen to the way Lata underscores the word “Daal” in “Daal na mujh pe Doraa” and you can see some of the composer’s innate impishness being transferred to the singer. Choosing favourites amongst such a set, even restricting it to the 50s alone, is a lost exercise, however “ek nazar bas ek nazar” (Munimji) and “phailii huyi hai.n sapano.n kii baahe.n” (House No 44), and “dil se milaake dil pyaar kiijiye” (Taxi Driver) should be part of anyone’s list.

1963 is the year of Bandini, which alone should assure its significance in SDB’s trajectory, but it was also the year in which the SDB-Lata pairing truly revived after a misunderstanding-induced gap of 4 years. And in Bandini one sees all the signs of a renaissance of the pairing, in a classic crucible fusing together the best work of 4 geniuses – Shailendra, SD Burman, Bimal Roy and the peerless Nutan. To watch “jogii jab se tuu aayaa” on screen is to watch perfection on celluloid – Nutan has been appreciated by Lata for best translating her singing to the screen, and to listen to Lata’s sweet and sharp enunciation of shuddha Hindi phrases like “mere aur nikaT mat aa re” in this beautiful song is bliss. The tune integrates itself naturally with the Vaishnav ethos of the film. Gulzar’s first and much written about film-song “moraa goraa a.ng lai le” is  the other highlight, with Lata’s beguiling interjections of “haay” in an SDB song, and yet these are only two of a set of outstanding songs, all firsts among equals in a soundtrack that I consider SDB’s career-best.