Indian film music—especially from the late 20th
century—was a genre like no other in the world.
Its legends—from Kishore Kumar and Mohammad
Rafi to Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhonsle from the
north, and S. P. Balasubramanyam and
P. Jeyachandran from the south, to
name just a few—benefited from
influences of classical Indian music,
and its unparalleled ability to evoke
the Navarasas: the nine essences or
feelings of human emotions.
Why is the music scene in India
unlike any other in the world?
It is perhaps the only country
where it is the film music that
dominates its music industry. Elsewhere
in the world some film music
may end up topping the charts, as
is often the case in the U.S. where
Hollywood frequently figures into
chartbusters. But the bulk of hits as
well as its celebrated artists in most
countries come from a music industry
that is distinct from the film
industry. In India, in contrast, the
music industry is largely juxtaposed
with the film industry.
(Left) The many rasas of Kishore Kumar.
As an actor, he was a natural at
evoking a wide array of feelings,
but it was as a singer that he could
stir hearts and minds delivering
songs that were sometimes carefree
with abandon and happiness,
sometimes pensive, many times
romantic, and often sad.
Traditionally, while classical
music was appreciated by connoisseurs,
folk music appealed to the
common man. The 20th century
saw the birth of film music, a genre
that proved to be a great equalizer.
Programs like Binaca Geethmala from
Radio Ceylon and Vividh Bharathi
from All India Radio brought it into
the homes and streets of ordinary
Indians. As a result, an entire nation
hummed and warbled along with
Mohammed Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar,
Kishore Kumar, Asha Bhonsle, Manna
Dey, Mukesh, Talat Mehmood
and Hemant Kumar from the north,
and S. P. Balasubramanyam, P. Jeyachandran,
Malaysia Vasudevan, K.
S. Chitra and P. Leela in the south.
And these fabled names barely
scratch the surface, considering
there have been so many others
with entire legions of followers.
Songs and music have always
played a seminal role in Indian
cinema, supporting the screenplay
and moving the plot. Music directors
like S. D. Burman, R. D. Burman,
Shankar-Jaikishen, Madan Mohan,
Laxmikant-Pyarelal, Rajesh Roshan,
G. Devarajan, Baburaj, Johnson, Salil
Chaudhary, M. S. Vishwanathan-
Ramamurthy, Shankar-Ganesh and
Ilayaraja created tunes that transformed
popular Indian music with
their variations and adaptations.
Melody reigned supreme, giving
singers ample scope for improvising
with their voices to evoke feelings.
And then there were the lyricists.
Majrooh Sultanpuri, Sahir
Ludhianvi, Shakeel Badayuni, and
Anand Bakshi in Hindi, Kannadasan,
Vaali and Vairamuthu in
Tamil, P. Bhaskaran, O. N. V. Kurup
and Vayalar Rama Varma in Malayalam,
and Udayashankar, Hamsalekha,
Kuvempu, Bendre and Jayanth
Kaikini in Kannada wrote poetry
that was breathtaking in its beauty
yet astounding in its simple appeal
to common folk.
Finally, there were the singers
who breathed life into these creations
with the requisite emotion
and mood, making many of their
songs masterpieces for all time. The
intonations, the expressions, the
meaningful pauses, deliberate nasality,
teasing notes, smiles, laughter
… these infused such incredible
depth into the lyrics, that all the actors
on screen had to do was follow
the audio clues that the singers gave
them. In fact, many actors came to
be identified with the singers who
sang for them – Raj Kapoor with
Mukesh, Shammi with Rafi, Meena
Kumari with Lata Mangeshkar,
Zeenat Aman with Asha Bhonsle,
Kamal Hasan with SPB, and so on.
Masters of Navarasa
With most singers of those
times having been trained in the
classical tradition, there wasn’t a
rasa that they couldn’t modulate
with their amazing voices, rendering
even banal lyrics into works of
sheer magic.
Consider the three components
of traditional Indian music: laya, raga
and bhava. Laya is the rhythm denoted
by tala. Raga is the set of notes
that the music follows, and bhava is
the emotional component. Filmi music
had laya and tala, and sometimes
took its melodies from raga, which
captured the attention of people. But
it was the bhava in the singing that
enshrined it in people’s hearts for all
time.
Let’s consider
some potent examples of how
Indian film music has deftly evoked
some of the navarasas, the nine essences
or feelings of human emotions
that Indian classical music is
famous for.
Few music
lovers would
disagree that
Mohammad
Rafi (right) was
the absolute,
all-time king
when it came
to expressions.
The nuances
that he could
convey through
his voice cannot
be explained in
words. They can
only be felt.
The Lightness Of Hasyam
(Laughter/Mirth)
Rafi’s “Tum se accha kaun hai”
from the movie of the same name,
or for that matter, most of the songs
he sang for Shammi Kapoor, are
shot through with such mischief
and lightness that one cannot help
but crack a grin. Rafi does it again
for Shammi in “Chakke pe chakka,
chakke pe gaadi” (Bramachari) and
again in “Badan pe sitare” (Prince).
And how about “Hum kale hai to kya hua” (Gumnaam)?
Asha Bhonsle:
While she was
perfectly capable of
stirring a range of
feelings, she was perhaps
her best as the
Mistress of mischief
and fun.
There are many other songs—and singers—that
evoke a similar delight: Kishore Kumar’s “Panch rupaiya
barah anna” (Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi), or “Ek chatur
naar” (Padosan). It is the same with “Namma ooru
singari” sung by S.P. Balasubramaniam in Ninaithaale
inikkum and “Ennamma kannu soukyama” by SPB and
Malaysia Vasudevan in Mr. Bharath. Among women
singers, Asha Bhonsle perfected the art of light flirtation
as in the memorable “Mera naam chin chin chu”
from Howrah Bridge.
Lata Mangeshkar (left). What can be said of
this nightingale of India? Like her singing
career, her ability to take listeners onto a
compelling emotional journey was vast!
Adbhutam—The Wonder Of Nature
If these singers conveyed the expression of hasyam,
then Mahendra Kapoor gave us adbhutam or wonder
and amazement at the beauties of nature in his
song “Neele gagan ke tale” (Hamraaz), as did Rafi in “Dil
kahe ruk ja re ruk ja” (Man ki Aankhen). In Tamil, it was
S. Janaki singing “Putham puthu kaalai”(Alaigal Oivadillai)
and “Oru poongavanam”(Agni Natchathiram).
Some songs about travel are so good that they are
forever entrenched in our hearts: “Suhana safar aur
ye mausam haseen,” sung by Mukesh for Madhumathi,
“Gori tera gaon bada pyaara” sung by KJ Yesudas for
Chitchor, “Senthazham poovil” sung by KJ Yesudas for
Mullum Malarum, and “Kodai kala kaatre” sung by Malaysia
Vasudevan for Panneer Pushpangal.
S. Janaki (left):
The ultimate
in emoting, S.
Janaki was every
director’s
dream singer.
It is the soulful rendering
of each song, helped by
strong lyrics, and the sense
of pathos as experienced by
the singer, that reaches deep
within to touch our human
core, regardless of caste,
religion or race.
Contemplative songs like Lata Mangeshkar’s
“Kuch dil ne kaha” (Anupama), and S Janaki’s “Mizhiyoram
nananjozhukum” (Manjil Virinja Pookkal) touch
a chord deep in our psyche. The song “Din dhal jaaye
haye” (Guide) is not just contemplative,
it also narrates the theme of
the movie itself. On the other hand,
a deep/ thoughtful song like “Tere
bina zindagi se koi shikva to nahi”
(Aandhi) is a classic example of the
wonders of human relations.
K J Yesudas (right): With
his mellifluous
voice and countless
expressions,
Yesudas is aptly
known as Gana
Gandharvan (Celestial
Singer).
Raudram—The Sound Of
Rage and Heartbreak
Contrasting these happy or soulful
renditions are songs of betrayal
and hatred. Mukesh’s “Dost dost na
raha” (Sangam), and “Koi jab tumhara
hriday tod de” (Purab Aur
Paschim), Rafi’s “Dil jo na keh saka”
(Bheegi Raat), “Patthar ke sanam”
(Patthar Ke Sanam), and “Dil ke jharokhe
mein” (Brahmachari) and
Kishore’s “Meri bheegi bheegi si”
(Anaamika) are all about anger, hatred,
heartbreak, and vengeance. K.
J. Yesudas’s “Oora therinjikittan”
(Padikkathavan),
T.
M. Soundararajan’s
“ Neeyumnaanumaa
kanna” (Gouravam),
and BS
Sasirekha’s
“Vaazhve mayama” (Gayathri) also send chills down our
spine at the anger in them.
Meanwhile, Manna Dey’s “Kasme wade pyar wafa”
(Upkar) and P Suseela’s “Sonnadu nee daana” (Nenjil oru
aalayam) drip accusation, sorrow, and disillusionment.
P Suseela (left) : The
first of the Telugu
trio to dominate
the film
industry down
south, Suseela
had to learn to
pronounce Tamil
words properly
before she could
sing Tamil songs.
But once she did,
there was no
stopping her.
Flavors Of Bhakti And Vatsalya (Devotion and
parental love)
Rafi’s “Man tarpat hari darshan ko aaj” (Baiju
Bawra), Manna Dey’s “Tu pyar ka sagar hain” (Seema),
Lata’s “Aye maalik tere bande hum” (Do Aankhein Barah
Haath), and KJ Yesudas’ “Harivarasanam” (Swami Aiyappan)
are prime examples of bhakti rasa. So are
“Gangai karai thottam” sung by P. Suseela (Vaanampadi)
and “Kannan vanthan ange kannan vanthan,” a duet by TM Soundararajan and Seergazhi Govindarajan
(Raamu).
SP Balasubramaniam (right):
the man
who could make
you smile, cry,
or laugh with
his songs, SPB
has ruled the
southern movie
industry for over
60 years. Long
live the king.
Lata’s “Chanda hai tu, mera suraj hai tu” (Aradhana),
Rafi’s “Mein gaoon tum so jao” (Brahmachari), and in
Tamil, P Suseela’s “Athaimadi methayadi” (Pathibhakthi),
and SPB’s “Kana kaanum kangal mella” (Agni Saatchi)
and KS Chithra’s “Thaamara kannan urengenam”
(Vatsalyam) are touching, melodious numbers that
evoke vatsalya.
Sringara, or Ishq, Pyaar And Mohabbat!
(Romantic Love)
Given that the romantic angle was a must-have
in cinema, when it came to sringara rasa—the flavor of
romantic love—every singer of note from those times
was so highly skilled that listening continuously to
their hit numbers could actually induce a state of intoxication.
Praising the loved one, melting with ardor,
cajoling, teasing, wanting, begging, reassuring, seducing, … these masters did it all, film after film! It would
take a book to enumerate and describe these songs and
the singers who painted every shade of love into their
lyrics, a task beyond my capacity!
Soul Rending Shokham (Sorrow)
Finally there is shokham—sorrow—not a rasa, but
an emotion at which these golden-voiced “singer-actors”
excelled. Rafi and Lata were legendary in their
ability to bring a listener to tears, without the sound
of a sob in their voices, if you recall “Teri galiyon mein
na rakhenge kadam” (Rafi in Hawas), and “O Basanthi
pawan pagal” (Lata in Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti
Hai). And what about “Mohe bhool gaye sanwariya”
(Lata in Baiju Bawra) and “Waqt ne kiya kya haseen
sitam” (Geeta Dutt in Kaagaz ke phool)!
P. Jeyachandran (left):
He was the
Manna Dey of
South Indian
music.
Regional cinema had its own share of melancholic
melodies: “Unnai nenachen paattu padichen”
(SPB in Apoorva Sagotharargal), “Naan unnai nenachain”
(SPB, Vani Jayaram and Jikki in Kannil theriyum
kathaigal), “Kaathirundu kaathirundu” (P Jeyachandran
in Vaidehi kaathirundal), “Malarukku tendral
pagayanal” (P Suseela and LR Eashwari in Enga Veetu
Pillai), “Vaazhve maayam” (KJ Yesudas in Vaazhve
Mayam), “Poongaatru tirumbuma” (Malaysia Vasudevan
and Chitra in Mudal Mariyadai), “Maanasamaine varu”
(Manna Dey in Chemmeen), “Kattadichu kodum” (KJ Yesudas
in Thulabaram) … the list is unending. It is the
soulful rendering of each song, helped by strong lyrics,
and the sense of pathos as experienced by the singer,
that reaches deep within to touch our human core, regardless
of caste, religion or race.
Fortunately, the tradition seems to be continuing
with the current crop of singers, despite corruption
in the form of electronic music, fusion, and remixes.
Contemporaries like A. R. Rahman, Shankar Mahadevan,
Sonu Nigam, Shreya Ghoshal, Monali Thakur,
Vishal Bhardwaj, Rekha Bhardwaj, and Arijit Singh,
and even Atif Aslam from across the border, to name
a few, have similar powers of stirring feelings. Sonu
Nigam’s “Abhi Mujh main Kahin,” Shreya Ghoshaal’s
“Mohe Rang do Lal,” Monali Thakur’s “Yeh Moh
moh ke dhaage,” Mohammad Irfan’s “Is dard-e-dil
ki sifaarish” (Yaariyan), Atif Islam’s “Jeena jeena” (Badlapur)
and “Sollittaale” (Kumki) is a small sampling of
such gems.
And yet, as far as I am concerned, it is the golden
songbirds of Indian cinema—those of the fading generation,
that defined and epitomized the lyrical and
evocative quality of Indian film songs. Few music lovers
would disagree that Mohammad Rafi was the absolute,
all-time king when it came to expressions. The
nuances that he could convey through his voice cannot
be explained in words. They can only be felt.
Lakshmi Palecanda, once an expatriate in the U.S., now
writes from Mysore, India. Besides being a regular contributor
at The Deccan Herald, she is a published novelist.