Mukesh~Poetic Gravitas

Even as the age of classicism in our film music began to wane in the mid-40s, a new breed of music directors, lyricists and singers began to make its presence felt. We know them all, the whole romantic slew of them, and we have sung their praises even as we hummed and sang their songs.

Among them was the very gentle Mukesh, he of that special feel for the lyric and whose articulation of the songs he sang made up for the range or the बुलंदी  of voice that he did not have. No less a composer than Salil Chaudhary, who did not much use Mukesh, has gone on record saying he was the most "nuanced" of all our singers. And down the years this has remained the most pertinent of all qualities attributed to this charismatic singer. That and the deep, moving, sonorous pathos in his voice. It was easy for one to identify with his singing: a vicarious expression of one's innermost feelings, which often made you want to walk away when his songs came on during a screening. He was singing for us.

True, we feel traces of the legendary K L Saigal (an influence he could never completely shed) from his earliest songs viz. 'dil hi bujha hua ho', his first-ever song as playback that he recorded for Ashok Roy in Nirdosh (1941), and in the fabulous 'dil jalta hai to jalne de' that he recorded a few years later for Anil Biswas in Paheli Nazar (1945). Another composer of note at this point was Ram Ganguli who made Mukesh sing Behzaad Lucknowi's 'zinda hoon is tarah ke gham-e-zindagi nahin', for Raj Kapoor's maiden  production, 'Aag'. It was here that the 'atman-jism' team of Raj and Mukesh was born. Sadly, that was all he would sing for Ram Ganguly.

Simultaneously with Anil Biswas it was Naushad Ali who mainly gave the singer's career the boost it needed in the late 40s, before each of these composers went his way, the one with Talat Mehmood as his main singer and the other with Mohammad Rafi, as his. Indeed, after 'ai jaan-e-jigar' for Anil Biswas in Aaram (1951), it would be a long while before we heard Mukesh sing for him: 'zindagi khwab hai' in the final film of his illustrious career 'Chhoti-Chhoti Batein' (1965). And for Naushad Ali, after Andaz (1949), Mukesh sang a couple of bad solos and worse duets with Suman Kalyanpur in 'Saathi' (1968), a film in which that eloquent composer futilely tried to prove his mettle one last time before putting away his baton, a spent force after more than 30 years of brilliance.

So, it was the period between 1948 and 1950 that set the stage for the Mukesh we came to love over the years. After Paheli Nazar it was films like 'Anokha Pyar' (1948), the Dilip-Nargis-Nalini Jaywant triangle and 'Lajawab' (1950) that had fine singing by Mukesh under Anil-da, but it was janab Naushad Ali who gave him his metier and under whom he shone in at least three films viz Mela & Anokhi Ada (both in 1948) and Andaz. While it would be a cliche to include here a track from Andaz in which Mukesh sang all his songs for Dilip Kumar, thus giving the latter a persona that  remained with him throughout his career, it is important for us to recall tracks from the other two films.

The soulful duet, 'dharti ko aakash pukare', with Shamshad Begum ushered in the age of the lovelorn: tragic yet uplifting, and Naushad-saab's great tuning of Shakeel Badayuni's four-liner remains as fascinating today as it did when it first came out, right from the lonely beat of the drum at the top, to the crescendo at the end, metaphorically sealing the fate of the doomed lovers (Dilip Kumar & Nargis). The songs in this film further cemented the Naushad-Shakeel partnership that had had its roots in Kardar's Dard, a year before in 1947. Here is that storm-tossed duet:

He sang another beautiful, if more subdued, duet with Shamshad Begum for Naushad Ali in Mehboob Khan's rather silly 'Anokhi Ada' in which, apart from the glorious tracks, we saw the actor Surendra essay probably the only light role of his career with considerable success.This love triangle also starred the beautiful Naseem Bano who was Saira's mother and herself a fine singer (Pukar, Sheesh Mahal etc.) and Prem Adeeb. The duet was picturised on Naseem Bano and Prem Adeeb.

Along came that 'musical powerhouse' of a team of music directors as Raju Bharatan rightly calls Shankar-Jaikishan, who gave Mukesh his first duets with Lata in RK's Barsaat (1949). This versatile duo was actually able to bring out the lighter, more flippant side of Mukesh's singing personality as no one else could. How can we forget 'awara hoon' from Raj's Aawara (1951) and  'mera joota hai japani' from Shri 420 (1955), both penned by Shailendra! It was his rendering of these two light, happy-go-lucky, yet profound songs that helped perpetuate Raj Kapoor's 'hobo' image.

Too bad Raj could not carry off the very chirpy 'ruq ja o janewali' in Kanhaiya (1959-also written by Shailendra), as well as he did the other two but then, he was not directing himself in this film! Here is the 78r.p.m. arrangement of this fine composition, a charmer if ever there was one. The on-screen version does not even come close, with its plethora of instruments, complex arrangement and longish preamble.



And a bit earlier, in 1957, there was a song picturised on a drunken Jaikishan, in a 'guest' role with the main pair Kishore Kumar and Shakila: a fine solo in a film that was banned for copyright reasons, soon after it was released: Begunah, a little remembered movie. The music, however, caught on and Mukesh's 'ai pyase dil bezubaan', became a hit. Even today, it creates a nostalgic mood. Once again, a Shailendra lyric tuned by SJ.



With Roshanlal the singer probably had his best professional relationship. Mukesh sang three fine solos and three great duets with Lata in Roshan's very first film 'Malhar' (1951).....

....and sporadically remained with that composer to the very end of the latter's career, when he sang the deeply philosophical 'taal mile nadi ke jalmein', for Anokhi Raat (1968). Film lore has it that the poet Indivar, who did a lot of work with this music composer right from Malhar and who was present at the recording (they always were in those days, to make sure of the correctness of the articulation by the singer), was so moved by Mukesh's rendering of this immortal composition that he embraced him and said: मुकेशजी ,मैंने इतना अच्छा तो नहीं लिखा, जितना की आपने इस गानेको दोहराया~Mukeshji, your rendering of this song has been far more profound than my writing of it!. The film was Roshan's swan song--he passed away soon after. The background score was completed by Salil-da and the film was released posthumously. Fine bit of filming by lensman Kamal Bose.

And he sang for Sachin Dev Burman who, like Salil, did not use Mukesh's voice as much as he should have. But can we ever forget this song from Bandini (1963)? If that did not deserve a FilmFare award, what did! He sang it like his heart would burst and the pathos in his voice was matched only by the grief reflected on Nutan's face. A great lyric from Shailendra and a fine bit of filming by director Bimal Roy, the cameraman once again, Kamal Bose. This was the last film Bimal-da made: he died two years later and a pioneer in film making moved to history.

Poets and composers took extra pains to create their compositions when Mukesh was to sing them. They kept his limitations in mind, but also the softness of his singing. Composer Khaiyam came up with an extra gentle score to counter Sahir Ludhianvi's hard hitting, scathing 'chin-o-arab hamara' which reflected that poet's frustration with Nehruvian policies, in Ramesh Saigal's Phir Subah Hogi (1958). The end result, as Raj puts it over as only he could, is almost unbearable.Truly, the lyrics and music and the rendering of the songs were the only bright spots in a mediocre film based on Dostoevsky's Crime And Punishment. It starred Raj Kapoor and Mala Sinha with the great Rehman in a pivotal role, but even these three fine performers could not salvage the film. Every song in it is a comment on the social condition of the time and both Mukesh and Asha Bhonsle rose to the occasion, eloquently understating Sahir's expression as they sang some of the best tracks ever.



I do not know which would be the other two but if I were asked to name my three favourite solos by Mukesh, this fine theme lyric penned by Qamar Jalalabadi and tuned by Kalyanji-Anandji for Sri Prakash Pictures & Vijay Bhatt's Pyase Panchhi, would surely be one them. Something about the depth of this song evoking a myriad emotions, some recognisable, others not. Poetic images cloud the mind: pigeons taking flight at Chowpatty as they can only in Bombay skies, a strange, wistful longing as you get lost in the nuances as Mukesh takes control of you and your emotions. You wonder at the lyric in the first antara of this song as he croons "....jaise saagar ki do lehrein chupkese mil jayen..." and then once again in the second as he sings: "....chhupi hain aahein kis premiki badalki aahonmein, bikhri hui hai khushbu kaisi albeli raahonmein....'"  happy, but painful in a mysterious sort of way. What does it all mean, you ask yourself? You're only 16.



Kalyanji-Anandji's scoring is gay abandon all the way and this was one of the most melodious tunes ever. Mukesh sang the maximum number of his songs for this duo and most of them were well done, quite a lot of them happy and some not so....we know them all.

But, I would like to think, the saddest song that he sang was the one he composed for himself for Anuraag, a film he produced, acted in and also composed the music for. It was one of those mistakes that film personalities often make. He also acted in it with Usha Kiran as his lead, but the film ended up a disaster in more ways than one, and it took him a while to come out of its backlash. The song, penned by Qaif Irfani, is still with us: one can feel Roshan's influence on Mukesh the composer.



In 1965 Mukesh sang for the last time for Anil Biswas in the film 'Chhoti-Chhoti Batein'. This was Motilal's final movie. He produced it and acted in it. But what is remarkable is that the three, Mukesh, Anil-da and Motilal teamed together 20 years after Paheli Nazar and created a swan song for at least two of them. Motilal died soon after the film was released (I think) and failed and Anil Biswas, like Naushad would a few years later, finally put away his baton for good. Mukesh sang Shailendra's signature lyric for the period that had passed.



By now the era was changing. Mukesh went on to sing a track here, a track there most of them mediocre, with the exception of  the songs in Teesri Qasam which Shailendra produced but died before the film was released. The music was pure Shankar-Jaikishan 50s vintage as was his title rendering of the track from the film Raat Aur Din, by the same team, which one never saw on the screen except in Lata's voice. Finally, of course, there was Raj Kapoor's  moody, nostalgic, self-conscious opus 'Mera Naam Joker', in which the RK camp (sans Shailendra), made us think of the times that were and yet will always remain with us. No, I am not going to play the cliched 'jane kahan gaye voh din', great and unsurpassed though it is. Let's just retain and remember them all on this the 35th anniversary of Mukesh-ji's death (August 26).

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The irony of  Mukesh's career to me, at least as an observer and admirer, was that of the four FilmFare awards bestowed on him. Two of these were for fine, nay great songs (Anadi-1959 & Kabhi-Kabhie-1976) while the remaining two songs (Pehchan-1970 & Beimaan-1972) do not even merit mention anywhere except in Manoj Kumar's autobiography. Mukesh sang far better songs than all the four for which he earned the FF statuette, in fact, for other composers most of whom I have not been able to give space here. All were eminent, all were great, all have moved on. Most could have written about singers they had met and most of them would have been kind to Mukesh....as has been that teenager who refused to wash his hand after a handshake with the singer.....

Good Bye, Shammi.

Shammi Kapoor lost to Rajendra Kumar by a thumping majority of one that sunny morning in 1963, when a bunch of us decided upon the first-run Hamrahi rather than the umpteenth rerun of Ujala! (1959). I gloated my best I-told-you-so at my classmates as we all came out of the Lotus (or was it the Swastik?~time's taking its toll!), cursing that milksop of a movie and vowing never again to waste hard-earned pocket-money over a Rajendra Kumar feature! We caught up with Ujala a few weeks later and emerged from the theatre praising Shankar-Jaikishan, Raj Kumar and Shammi Kapoor (with Mala Sinha and Kum Kum supplying the oomph!)~in that order. The film was a rehash of any number of Hollywood crime films of that era, with Raj Kumar hamming the crime boss to the hilt! Immensely laughable at that or any age, but thrilling: and great black and white photography, as I recall, especially during the climactic sequence with Raj Kumar on the rooftops. They had a lot of fun doing that film with the fun loving Naresh Saigal (who had another hit that same year in Main Nashemein Hoon) as director. The Lata-Manna Dey duet 'jhoomta mausam mast mahina', set new records in popularity. Impossible to sing and difficult to emulate, it could only be mimicked. The song was written by Hasrat Jaipuri and literally reverberated elsewhere in the world because, from what YouTube tells me, even the Greeks were ecstatic over it.

He was not younger brother Shashi and certainly not older brother Raj Kapoor, but Shammi-saab was finally turning the corner away from the silly dramatic-role cloaks that he had heretofore donned. It took him a few years to find his niche from the undramatic entry he made into films with dramatic vehicles like Rail Ka Dibba (1953-opposite Madhubala), Laila Majnu (once again 1953 with the emerging Nutan), Shama Parwana (1954-opposite the then-fading but still beautiful Suraiya), Miss Cocacola (1955-opposite future wife Geeta Bali). And there were other films like Thokar (1953) and Chor Darwaza (1954)all of which, I am aware, were eminently forgettable. While I have only billboard memories of all these films, I do recall viewing at least a badly-mutilated print of Laila Majnu and an intact copy of Shama-Parwana. Bad films both but colossal music by the great Ghulam Mohammad in the first and the equally great Husnlal-Bhagatram in the second.

A startling clip has surfaced on YouTube of a Talat song that we have loved down the years. The solo was originally intended for the moody-brooding Laila Majnu but for one of those inexplicable reasons that often put a song out of context, was removed from that film and appended to Chor Darwaza. And I say startling because what is essentially a reflective musing on tormented love (what else!) has been picturised upon a smiling Shammi Kapoor flirting with a stoic, stony-faced Sumitra Devi! Either a different mood or a different song was definitely called for here, unless I'm missing director Prakash Arora's intent. It should have remained, more logically, with Laila Majnu. Shammi is close to a laugh-burst and the only reason I have included the track here is because the penning of it by Shakeel Badayuni is so intense and memorable.



But that period was coming to an end, as I have stated, with Nasir Hussain's Tumsa Nahin Dekha (1957) roaring in and sowing the seeds of the 'Yahoo!' image that we came to associate with Shammi Kapoor. It was the turning point in his career and Shammi Kapoor never looked back for at least a decade and a half after that. His costar in the film was the very coy Ameeta who also, with this vehicle, came out into the mainstream of Hindi films. The songs in the film composed by the legendary OP Nayyar placed Shammi Kapoor on the map with the young crowd, although the older generation still shunned OP's compositions as being too 'unIndian'. But Shammi was ready to go and go he did....and there was no restraining him...watch him mouth Sahir Ludhianvi's exuberant....Yun to humne lakh haseen dekhe hain...



The next big hit was Dil Deke Dekho (1959)again directed by Nasir Hussain but the film did more for Asha Parekh and Usha Khanna than it did for Shammi Kapoor. The first debuted as leading lady while the second debuted as a music composer of note although where she went over the years is a different story. One must note, though, that she was only the second female music director in films, after Saraswati Devi of the 1930s/40s. There are great vocals by Mohammad Rafi and Asha Bhonsle on the tracks of this film, with one especially standing out as a blend of rural folksy in the first half and beat in the tandem. Here it is, penned by Majrooh Sultanpuri.



There came a slump in his career with nondescript films like Mujrim and Boyfriend and China Town (a double role, here), which despite fine music by OP Nayyar in the first and Shankar-Jaikishan in the other, and Ravi in the third did nothing much to boost Shammi's career until.....

.....producer-director Subodh Mukerji came in with 'Junglee' (1961), to place the final, finishing brush stroke to the 'Yahoo' image begun in Tumsa Nahin Dekha, four years earlier. The film was a maddening success and I say maddening because Shammi was falling all over Saira Banu (in her debut) when he was not all over himself as he played the spoiled, eccentric millionaire who finds love in the arms of a simple mountain belle. Colour was still spell bindingly new to the industry in 1961 and the only aspect of the song better than the Kashmir visuals, was the unbridled Mohammad Rafi, singing a much-derided Shankar-Jaikishan number penned by Shailendra. It is probably one of filmdom's best kept secrets that a lot of us still do not know who yelled the reverberating 'Yahoo' into the mountains!



Once when I was in Bombay I read an article written by Shammi Kapoor and something he said in it made me pen an email to him and I told him that the only better films than Junglee were 'Professor' (1962) and Manoranjan a fine adaptation of Irma La Douce which was released in 1971 (I think) after a 10-year wait in the cans. I was surpised when he actually wrote back to me explaining the delay in the release of Manoranjan.

To sit through a viewing of Professor is to understand one's helplessness in controlling an outburst of laughter in the movie house, long after a particular sequence has passed. It was a fine, hilarious role as Shammi Kapoor juggled the joint characters of the young lover (with Kalpana, another new find) and that of the old professor in his scenes with Lalita Pawar. His scenes with that old thespian are part of classic film lore~and so is the musical score, once again by Shankar-Jaikishan.

The movie went on to bag the FilmFare award for the best music of the year, with Rafi-saab, also walking away with the statuette for 'Ai Gulbadan'. Every song in the film is a classic from the joint batons of S-J setting to music the penmanship of Shailendra and Hasrat Jaipuri. 'Main Chali, main chali.....' the Shailendra-penned Lata-Rafi duet will, however, always remain my personal favourite, because the kind of day we see as the scene unfolds was exactly the kind of day I saw the film on with my buddies: bright blue with fleecy white clouds (sorry to bring myself in, like this). We don't see that kind of days anymore in Bombay.... And then there was Kashmir Ki Kali (1964) with composer OP Nayyar's creations the standout feature in a mediocre movie, whose only other significance was the introduction into Hindi films of the very young and talented Sharmila Tagore. The songs, especially the two Asha-Rafi inspired duets penned by the immortal SH Bihari 'Isharon, isharonemein dil lenewale' and 'diwana hua badal....' , were lyrically picturised by Shakti Samanta. It was the music that saved the day and made the film a runaway hit.....



...until 1965 came along and death claimed Geeta Bali his wife of 10 years. And we know he was never the same again, despite a remarriage. Teesri Manzil was released in this same year during which we saw Asha Bhonsle taking her first tentative steps away from OP Nayyar and moving towards RD Burman whom she later was to marry. This film, again, was more a comeback vehicle for Premnath from yester years (who donned the mantle of the 'bad' guy and went on to do some fine roles in the process) but more importantly it set RD Burman firmly in the saddle as a brilliant and innovative composer very much like his father, the immortal SD Burman.

The movie paired Shammi Kapoor with Asha Parekh and will always be remembered for Premnath's evil-as-evil-can be character but moreso, as I have stated, for RDB's unique music sounds, the likes of which had never been heard until then. He was the last of the three acknowledged mavericks in Hindi film music after Shankar-Jaikishan and Chitalkar Ramchandra during their heyday in the late 1940s. Once one gets past the first 40 seconds of verbalizing on this fine composition, the magic becomes inescapable.



Well, the times were a-changing: we still had a couple of more years of the film industry as we knew it: but slowly and surely it was moving towards becoming 'Bollywood' a term concocted by Nasir Hussain in 1971, symbolising the change in generation and the setting-in of a deplorable trend in film-making that does not seem to let up.


This was not the end of Shammi Kapoor's career, though. He had a few more films left among them the eminently forgettable Brahmachari and Latt Saheb and Prince and Janwar and Tumse Acchha Kaun Hai which do not deserve space here or anywhere else, although Pagla Kahin Ka and the long delayed Manoranjan did reveal his flair for genuine humour. In fact, Manoranjan marked a new phase in his career~that of a character artist and he did some good ones all through the 80s.

So, where does he stand? Right at the top? No, not as long as one has evergreen memories of his brother, the eloquent Raj Kapoor. But he will always be remembered as a performer who brought joy to the middleclass with his shenanigan's and gyrations and fisticuffs, although the better (sic!) class of filmgoers did not care much for him or his movies. He had a charm all his own: and he could be funny, without being vulgar like others I could name. Like Dev Anand it was difficult to watch him do serious roles. But, also like Dev Anand, he 'sang' any number of good, nay great, songs for us and that's what we went to the movies for in those days and at that age, anyway....

R.I.P.