‘’Have you at any point of time fallen in love or has anybody proposed to you?’’
Long pause..
“I would rather not answer
this question.”
This interaction which
happened on a TV channel long ago between a media person, who is ‘nosy’(literally
and figuratively) and a very popular singer, remains firmly etched in my
memory. Those were the days when ‘social’ and ‘media’ were independent words
and the word joining the two had not yet been coined. But still in my opinion,
this is no different from the kind of messages one gets to see ad nauseam on
the present-day social media platforms with more focus on sensation and the
personal lives of well-known people and less on their strengths and what they
are known for, trying to give a false identity.
While I would refrain from
naming the TV personality who asked that question, I would surely love to
mention the name of the very popular singer, who will surely fall in the
bracket of ‘Legends’ in the pantheon of not just film personalities but also
musicians.
If there is a name which is a
house-hold name in every nook and cranny of our country, it is Lata Mangeshkar.
Even in the state where Hindi is always looked at with scorn, where the word
Hindi itself is an anathema to many and where languages are given political colours,
this lady and her songs have played and will continue to play in a majority of
households.
In fact, the question that was
asked by the media personality, reminded me of a dialogue from a rather popular
Tamizh film in which the wife of the musician-the protagonist in the movie-,
asks him if Lata Mangeshkar is married. Coming as it did from a character who
is ignorant about music, this is not surprising, but the fact that most of us- especially
of late- miss the wood for the trees cannot be denied.
I shall leave this for a while
and try and touch upon this towards the end.
Going back to the singer, I
must admit that though I grew up with that voice during my pre-teen days in Madras
and during my phase in Hyderabad(what that phase is, has been told many times
and therefore I would prefer to leave it now), I was enamoured of this voice,
later on, that is after listening to many others, my loyalties shifted. Yet, I
or for that matter anyone can deny the fact that the impact the voice has made
on people across the globe can hardly be matched.
The South Indian connection
the singer had, is known only to some. It went beyond singing songs-mainly for
Raaja sir. Long ago, she watched a movie of Sivaji Ganesan and became a fan
instantly. This developed into a beautiful relationship and whenever she
visited Madras, she would stay in their house. She considered him as an elder
brother and even became a part of their family.
It is not a coincidence that her
re-entry song in Tamizh films (she had already sung a couple of songs
under Naushad for the movie ‘Aan’ which was dubbed from Hindi in 1953 - was
produced by Sivaji productions. This movie ‘Anand’ had Sivaji’s son Prabhu in
the lead role. But the song we are going to see, is different.
The impact the song Engirundho
Azhaikkum from En Jeevan Paaduthu (1988) makes on people can be known from the
fact that when Raaja sir’s wife listened to it, she broke down instantly.
What starts as a kind of
haunting humming with the strings in higher-octave giving the impetus, softens
with the entry of guitar and the keys which play the same notes simultaneously
with the bass guitar in the background. But what is amazing is the very subtle
sound of the strings which play a sustained note.
The Pallavi in Mishra Pahaadi
attains a special sheen in the voice of the legend, who by then had passed her
prime and yet sounded good. I am reminded of an article by T.M.Krishna today where
he says ‘Her voice aged, but it never sounded old’.
The haunting feel continues in
the first interlude as well with one set of strings going up and the other set
responding. As before, it is left to the guitar to bring sobriety. Not to be
missed is the sound of the subtle strings playing the sustained notes(yet
again!). After a brief intervention by the brass flute, the guitar continues
its journey like a karma yogi. The flute enters yet again but this time playing
in a different octave.
What follows is the definition
of plaintiveness. The strings play as if all the notes have been soaked in a
stream called ‘Melancholy’. What adds to this feeling is the sound from bass
guitar, which in fact, continues to play even after the interlude ends, well
into the first CharaNam and then throughout the CharaNam backing the vocals.
Also making an appearance is
the flute between the lines and the strings along the lines.
But it is finally the tune in
the CharaNam which makes one lugubrious and pensive. The upper registers are
touched in the penultimate line but the last line sees a dash of alien
notes(which makes this particular raag more beautiful) and needless to say one
sees O. Henry Raaja here.
One gets to see him more in
the second interlude when a recorder like instrument makes a sudden entry after
a ‘zig-zag’ melody from the strings. The strings take over again and gives a
sense of mystique, going linear first and curvilinear next. It reaches a
crescendo and touches the peak as if to show that nothing else exists beyond
that.
Poojya = PoorNa.
Names will be forgotten. Faces
will change..The voice is the identity..
But finally, even beyond all
this, Music is the only identity..
Music from the Eternity!
