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A journey down melody lane: Raju Bharatan
M.V.Kamath
For all one knows, there must be several in India who have lived through the times of New Theatre and Prabhat Talkies and are familiar with the songs of K.L. Saigal and Manna Day. And many more, perhaps who have followed the careers of the likes of Mohamed Rafi, Talat Mahmood and Hemant Kumar, not to speak of Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle, Kishore Kumar and Geeta Dutt. And one may be sure there are knowledgeable cine experts who can speak, if not authoritatively certainly with some finesse of an O.P. Nayyar, a Naushad, a C. Ramachandra and a pair like Laxmikant-Pyarelal. And who among them wouldn’t have heard of S. N. Tripathi and a Vasant Desai? All these are names deeply embedded in the hearts if not minds of film goers. And just sing one line like sawaan ke nazaree hain aaha aaha or Diwali phir aagayee sajnee or bol Radha bol sangam or mera jootha hai Japani or bole re paphihara and very likely there will be many who will sing the rest with joy and zest. If, therefore, one avers that for all that and all that, there is just one man who is the ultimate authority on film music and that is the one and only Raju Bharatan, nobody would dare challenge it. Raju and I have known each other since we worked together at The Illustrated Weekly of India and, to the best of my knowledge he remains the final word where cinema, its producers, directors, actors and actresses, singers and playback personalities and the rest, are concerned. He was often right there when music was being composed. He was there when the shooting took place. Raju knows it all from sheer personal experience and knowledge. Nayyar once told Raju: “Raju, never ever did I call upon Lata to sing piyaa aan basey more nainah mein. Do publish my pointed denial without a moment’s delay”! In other words, Raju was close – or as much close as he wanted to – with the stars in the cine world which is why his book Journey Down Memory Lane commands attention. Researched beyond all limitations, every page in this remarkable book sparkles with stories, anecdotes, the clash of egos, the sheer range of poetic imagination as to take one’s breath away. Actors, singers, and the whole lot associated with filmdom comes alive in the pages as to make it impossible to put the book down, once one picks it up for reading. One realizes that some of the great can be pretty petty, but, at the same time, some others can be gracefully gracious. One question is asked: “Did Lata (Mangeshkar) then play fair in hijacking (from her sister Asha) a song destined to create for the Mangeshkar diva a rare niche in the nation’s psyche? Or was it merely a case of Lata Marginalising Asha in sisterly rivalry?” Few know, as Raju recounts, that it was C. Ramachandra who had actually tuned Ae mere watan ke logon as a duet, for Asha Bhonsle to begin with the first line and for Lata to take it up with Zara aankh mein bhar lo paanee. Apparently, at that time, C. Ramachandra and Lata were not on talking terms. What happened subsequently is another story which Raju recounts in his evocative way. There are stories aplenty about Lata including one on how she finally got to the point of marrying Maharaj Kumar Rajsinghji of Dungarpur – six year and forty nine days younger to her, but how, his father, the highly esteemed Maharawal Laxmisinghji, put his foot down. Apparently Lata also had deep affection for C. Ramachandra, but then it had cooled off. There is a nice story about the time Lata got the Bharath Ratna. She was in London with Dungarpur when the news came in. Late at night, around 11.30 p.m. when she returned to her apartment and was opening the door she heard the phone ringing persistently. She picked it up and heard some one say something, to which Lata’s reaction was ‘Wow!’ Why this ‘wow’ Dungarpur innocently asked. “Rachna is telling me I’ve got the Bharat Ratna” was Lata’s reply. Rachna was her favourite niece. For sheer anecdotage this book is hard to beat. Raju believes Manna Dey is “a singing giant, and shall remain one”. But then he quotes Mohammed Rafi as saying: “You listen to my songs. I listen to Mana Dey only”. But Manna Dey, it appears, was genuinely fearful of Kishore Kumar. For all that, he was to write in his autobiography: It is alleged that singers today are unable to stand the sights of their professional rivals – an attitude that never fails to surprise me because none of my contemporaries ever felt that way about each other”. But take the case of Mohammed Rafi who, after quite a struggle to reach No.1 notch, openly took on Lata Mangeshkar (no less) on the royalty issue. It is said on this issue Lata lost her cool with rafi. Raju is not a hero-worshipper, but, he says, he rates Naushad “highly, very highly” and adds: “Kabhi khabie” is something should be listening to. Naushad had started as a pianist and some of his finest tunes were done on the piano. With Naushad, Raju admits, he was “temperamentally tuned”. In doing a review of this book one is afraid of missing out on so many stars and on their strengths and weakness. At one point Raju says: Pancham buffs might hate to bear this, but the sad truth is that their pet composer answering to the name of R. D. Burman never really overtook Laxmikant-Pyarelal in the box-office stakes”. Raju is very critical of Asha Bhonsle for being ‘dismissive’ of a singing icon like Talat Mahmood. As Raju put it: “If anything, Asha Bhosle should have been grateful that such a performing great as Talat Mahmood deigned to sing as many as 15 duets with her during her 1951-59 struggle phase….” Raju was once told that Kishore Kumar was “a classic pilferer”! He has so much to say about Guru Dutt and Meena Kumari, saying of the latter that she reached “her apogee as a tragedienne in clinching her third Filmfare Best Actress Award” but with Geeta Dutt’s “distinctive vocalising”. He has much to say about Anil Biswas, Khamchand Prakash and even about A. R. Rehman. Of Rehman he says: “The cardinal difference between Rehman and Pancham is that the younger composer has carried his music beyond all frontiers by the sheer consistency of quality”. In the end, one can only admit that “the world of music is a bottomless pit and the deeper you go, the more you realise how hollow is your knowledge”. In quoting, this line, Raju is humble. His knowledge of cinemusic is as wide as the sea.
M.V.Kamath
For all one knows, there must be several in India who have lived through the times of New Theatre and Prabhat Talkies and are familiar with the songs of K.L. Saigal and Manna Day. And many more, perhaps who have followed the careers of the likes of Mohamed Rafi, Talat Mahmood and Hemant Kumar, not to speak of Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle, Kishore Kumar and Geeta Dutt. And one may be sure there are knowledgeable cine experts who can speak, if not authoritatively certainly with some finesse of an O.P. Nayyar, a Naushad, a C. Ramachandra and a pair like Laxmikant-Pyarelal. And who among them wouldn’t have heard of S. N. Tripathi and a Vasant Desai? All these are names deeply embedded in the hearts if not minds of film goers. And just sing one line like sawaan ke nazaree hain aaha aaha or Diwali phir aagayee sajnee or bol Radha bol sangam or mera jootha hai Japani or bole re paphihara and very likely there will be many who will sing the rest with joy and zest. If, therefore, one avers that for all that and all that, there is just one man who is the ultimate authority on film music and that is the one and only Raju Bharatan, nobody would dare challenge it. Raju and I have known each other since we worked together at The Illustrated Weekly of India and, to the best of my knowledge he remains the final word where cinema, its producers, directors, actors and actresses, singers and playback personalities and the rest, are concerned. He was often right there when music was being composed. He was there when the shooting took place. Raju knows it all from sheer personal experience and knowledge. Nayyar once told Raju: “Raju, never ever did I call upon Lata to sing piyaa aan basey more nainah mein. Do publish my pointed denial without a moment’s delay”! In other words, Raju was close – or as much close as he wanted to – with the stars in the cine world which is why his book Journey Down Memory Lane commands attention. Researched beyond all limitations, every page in this remarkable book sparkles with stories, anecdotes, the clash of egos, the sheer range of poetic imagination as to take one’s breath away. Actors, singers, and the whole lot associated with filmdom comes alive in the pages as to make it impossible to put the book down, once one picks it up for reading. One realizes that some of the great can be pretty petty, but, at the same time, some others can be gracefully gracious. One question is asked: “Did Lata (Mangeshkar) then play fair in hijacking (from her sister Asha) a song destined to create for the Mangeshkar diva a rare niche in the nation’s psyche? Or was it merely a case of Lata Marginalising Asha in sisterly rivalry?” Few know, as Raju recounts, that it was C. Ramachandra who had actually tuned Ae mere watan ke logon as a duet, for Asha Bhonsle to begin with the first line and for Lata to take it up with Zara aankh mein bhar lo paanee. Apparently, at that time, C. Ramachandra and Lata were not on talking terms. What happened subsequently is another story which Raju recounts in his evocative way. There are stories aplenty about Lata including one on how she finally got to the point of marrying Maharaj Kumar Rajsinghji of Dungarpur – six year and forty nine days younger to her, but how, his father, the highly esteemed Maharawal Laxmisinghji, put his foot down. Apparently Lata also had deep affection for C. Ramachandra, but then it had cooled off. There is a nice story about the time Lata got the Bharath Ratna. She was in London with Dungarpur when the news came in. Late at night, around 11.30 p.m. when she returned to her apartment and was opening the door she heard the phone ringing persistently. She picked it up and heard some one say something, to which Lata’s reaction was ‘Wow!’ Why this ‘wow’ Dungarpur innocently asked. “Rachna is telling me I’ve got the Bharat Ratna” was Lata’s reply. Rachna was her favourite niece. For sheer anecdotage this book is hard to beat. Raju believes Manna Dey is “a singing giant, and shall remain one”. But then he quotes Mohammed Rafi as saying: “You listen to my songs. I listen to Mana Dey only”. But Manna Dey, it appears, was genuinely fearful of Kishore Kumar. For all that, he was to write in his autobiography: It is alleged that singers today are unable to stand the sights of their professional rivals – an attitude that never fails to surprise me because none of my contemporaries ever felt that way about each other”. But take the case of Mohammed Rafi who, after quite a struggle to reach No.1 notch, openly took on Lata Mangeshkar (no less) on the royalty issue. It is said on this issue Lata lost her cool with rafi. Raju is not a hero-worshipper, but, he says, he rates Naushad “highly, very highly” and adds: “Kabhi khabie” is something should be listening to. Naushad had started as a pianist and some of his finest tunes were done on the piano. With Naushad, Raju admits, he was “temperamentally tuned”. In doing a review of this book one is afraid of missing out on so many stars and on their strengths and weakness. At one point Raju says: Pancham buffs might hate to bear this, but the sad truth is that their pet composer answering to the name of R. D. Burman never really overtook Laxmikant-Pyarelal in the box-office stakes”. Raju is very critical of Asha Bhonsle for being ‘dismissive’ of a singing icon like Talat Mahmood. As Raju put it: “If anything, Asha Bhosle should have been grateful that such a performing great as Talat Mahmood deigned to sing as many as 15 duets with her during her 1951-59 struggle phase….” Raju was once told that Kishore Kumar was “a classic pilferer”! He has so much to say about Guru Dutt and Meena Kumari, saying of the latter that she reached “her apogee as a tragedienne in clinching her third Filmfare Best Actress Award” but with Geeta Dutt’s “distinctive vocalising”. He has much to say about Anil Biswas, Khamchand Prakash and even about A. R. Rehman. Of Rehman he says: “The cardinal difference between Rehman and Pancham is that the younger composer has carried his music beyond all frontiers by the sheer consistency of quality”. In the end, one can only admit that “the world of music is a bottomless pit and the deeper you go, the more you realise how hollow is your knowledge”. In quoting, this line, Raju is humble. His knowledge of cinemusic is as wide as the sea.
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