Jottings - Slice of life - 330 ( The nightingale turns ninety. A personal tribute to Lata Mangeshkar)

In the Indian subcontinent, playback singing is not merely a part of cinema, but a consummate, eclectic and widely embraced art form in itself. From the very beginnings of Indian cinema, the makers have always attempted to tell their stories through songs. “Alam Ara”, the first full-length feature film released in 1931 had seven songs, the next film in the same year, “Shireen Farhad” had forty-one songs. Early Indian Movies resembled the operas, and before long, like operatic music, the songs began to take a life of its own. For a nation fighting its way out of foreign rule, and for millions of people unaccustomed to any entertainment beyond their regional folklore (and deliberately kept out of classical music by the pundits and upper castes) film music became a luxurious national entertainment encapsulating the mood of the nation, the ebb and flows of human life and above all a reflection and voice of the innermost feelings and aspirations of the common man. By the 1940s, Film music emerged as an independent industry closely allied with the film world but creating, incubating and channelizing a new breed of musicians who had their base in Indian classical traditions; but willing to adapt and sacrifice the rigid tonal structures of its meter to fit the mood on the screen. Audiences loved it; and the Men and women who composed, sang and recorded these songs became iconic figures in their own right, often masking the puritans both commercially and in popularity. Quite a few of them cutting across the Indian states and languages elevated film music to esoteric levels of dedication, passion, commitment, and discipline. Lata Mangeshkar, the only true nightingale of Indian music, is one such iconic genius.

Reams and reams of ink have been spent writing about Lata and her incredible work over six decades. I cannot add anything more to her legend, except record my appreciation of her phenomenal talent. If Playback singing is an art form, then Lata Mangeshkar is its anointed god. There are few others who have equaled or surpassed lata in their versatility of singing and the range of songs sung, but for sheer purity of tone, precision of musical notes, clarity of diction, and longevity of work, none comes close to Lata, except, perhaps with the exception of SPB from Southern India, and Asha Bhonsle-Lata's younger sister.

There is no clear record of how many songs Lata has lent her voice to. Some say 25,000, others 45,000; but nobody is sure, and Lata herself hasn’t kept count of numbers. From 1940 to around the early 2000s, Lata dominated the world of Hindi music, and with each song a gem, and sung with such complete absorption and discipline, numbers really don't matter. It is only when quality is shaky that quantity assumes importance. However, it is the period between 1940 - 1990, that is Lata’s greatest era. Not only was her voice at its pristine best during those years, but some of the finest music composers, lyricists, and male singers happened to work in the same era. Composers of the caliber of Madan Mohan, Roshan, Jayadev, Lakshikant Pyarelal, the father-son duo of Burman’s, Shankar Jaikishan, Naushad and OP Nayyar among others; and male singers such as Rafi, Kishore and Mukesh imbued with a golden masculine voice that complimented the pitch-perfect notes of Lata ; and gifted lyricists like Sahir, Shailendra, Shakeel Badayuni, Gulzar who wrote meaningful lyrics of such beauty fully aware that in Lata’s hands not a word will be mispronounced, out of place or tune. Indeed, one of the greatest strengths of Lata was her ability to not fragment or compromise the lyrics, even in the highest notes. You will never hear a Lata song, where the words are unclear. She intrinsically understood the inseparable connection between the lyrics and the tune. The debate over tune versus lyrics or vice versa loses its meaning in Lata’s singing. There are songs when Lata’s soaring voice has magically transformed a pedestrian lyric to a sparkling immortal melody, and there are equally enough number of songs when Lata showcases the sheer weight of the lyrics over the tune. Like all great artists, she knew the right balance without any dispute or debate.

To some composers, Lata was the Muse. For Madan Mohan, without Lata, the song was incomplete. In the great composer’s repertoire of work, Lata has sung the maximum number of songs. Nobody else could have sung them. Madan Mohan’s compositions are not merely complex, but deeply nuanced and intricate. It is difficult to coach anyone to sing them appropriately. The singer should grasp the musical phrases that spring from a deep classical base and imbue it with lightness or heaviness required by the mood of the song. Nowhere is that perfect synergy visible than in that great song “Lag ja gale..”. In all these years, many aspiring and accomplished singers have attempted to sing this composition on stage and in cover albums; but it is the unanimous opinion of listeners, that Lata’s original rendition is unparalleled in its spacing of notes, and the emotive force behind each phrase. This is just one instance among many others. Similarly, for the young RD Burman, who faced the onerous task of living up to his father’s genius, Lata was his savior. Who can forget the songs of Aandhi, or Kati Patang or that splendid album “Amar Prem”. This list can go on.

One of the common accusations against Lata is that she wasn’t as versatile a singer as, say, her younger sister. That is true. Very early in her career. Lata made a conscious decision not to sing songs that in her calibration seemed immoral or improper. In Bollywood music, versatility means singing for any occasion or emotion, regardless of the musical sensibility; and Lata made a choice not to go down that path. Just as a Michelangelo refused to paint the Sistine chapel as the pope wanted him to, yet ended up creating something vastly more beautiful than anything anyone could have conceived; so also, Lata politely refused compositions that offended her demure sensibilities and accepted commissions that she could influence creatively. She had nothing against anyone composing or singing those compositions; just that she wouldn’t do it. The composers respected her decision and gave her songs - even sensual ones - only if the composition met the right aesthetic standards of tune and lyrics. A song such “Baahon me chale aa.”, which borders on the edge of lust and romance, is elevated to a different plane by the smooth texture of Lata’s voice that soothes the senses and doesn’t agitate.

The lady turns ninety today. What a creative life? A whole generation and a half have grown up listening to her voice, and many more generations to come will listen to her voice in equal awe. There is a purity in her singing that cannot be defined in words. In one of my earlier essays on Lata, I mentioned that Lata’s dedication to her art is exemplary in the world of cinema. Untainted by controversy, loved, admired and respected by all, she epitomizes how true art stands heads and shoulders above petty trifles. Age cannot dim the sweetness in her voice and the reach of her music. “Tu Jahan Jahan chale ga..” haunts every Indian living in a foreign country, “Satyam Shivam Sundaram” still evokes the sensuous appreciation of feminine grace clothed in mysticism ; or “Aaayega Aane wala” sung by Lata when she was barely twenty, continues to mesmerize; or the languid melody from Pakeezah “ Chalte Chalte” which expresses a weariness that comes out of fullness of living - all these, and many, many more will remain our national treasures for as long we cherish Indian Film music and its ability to capture different emotions in short musical compositions.

Lata may have stopped singing, but her melodious voice still echoes each day, unwilling to fade away or replaced by a newer voice. Like the soothing sound of a spring breeze, her notes will linger forever in the ears and hearts of her countless fans. Age has no meaning for a great artist; their creative work will remain ageless - always.

Wishing you health and rest Lataji. You have done enough.

God bless…

yours in mortality,

Bala