Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?
From the “Ode to a nightingale” – John Keats ( 1819)
John Keats immortalized the voice of a nightingale during one of his bleaker moods. When he sat under the plum tree in his garden that summer day in 1819, the solitary note of the nightingale, itself anonymous, but its sweetness wafting through the air, so clear and pristine, with a strange mix of happiness and melancholy, suddenly triggered Keat’s poetic sensibility to muse on the utter ephemerality of human pursuits. In an ode to the nightingale, he envies the unseen bird who will continue to live through her voice, even if it is never seen. The voice, he concludes in rapturous verse, is the signature of a nightingale and her undying legacy.
In 1977, In another continent, in another language, 150 years later, another nightingale in human form sang a song penned by another extraordinary poet, Gulzar:
Naam gum jaayegaa
Chehara ye badal jayegaa
Meri aavaaz hi pahachaan hai
Gar Yaad rahe
Vaqt ke sitam kam hasi nahi
Aaj hai yahaan kal kahi nahi
Vaqt se bhare agar mil gaye kahi
Meri aavaaz hi pahachaan hai
Gar Yaad rahe
This was Lata Mangeshkar, the nightingale of India presciently singing about herself, her own immortality, and her legacy in the tapestry of Indian culture and its psyche. But, in the song, the poet Gulzar got it wrong for a change. Can we ever forget anything about Lataji? Can we forget her name or her face – so deeply etched is her image in our collective consciousness for over seventy years? Lata’s life and music were just not about an art form; it transcended it. Though cinema was her primary medium, it was a medium through which a new nation understood, articulated, and carved its identity. It is through her honeyed voice that every Indian felt the passionate tremors of what patriotism and love of the country meant, and it was her mesmerizing voice that gave shape to, and lifted, consoled, cheered, and embraced the entire spectrum of human emotions. There is nothing, pure and cultured in India, that her voice did not give shape and form to. You think of Lata Mangeshkar, and the mind conjures a matronly image of her form imbued with artistic austerity, uncompromising dignity, and relentless vocal purity.
Reams and reams of ink have been spent writing about Lata and her incredible work over seven decades. There is nothing more one can add, except that her talent and commitment may never be surpassed for a long time. If we could imagine a Goddess wanting a singing voice, she might be envying Lata’s. There is something about that voice that makes even such a preposterous suggestion possible: It is the sheer purity of tone perhaps, to clear enunciation and clarity of diction, or the personal discipline and devotion to the craft, or the mellifluous rendering of the most difficult of notes with effortless poise, or all of these. When Lata sings, singing looked easy.
There is no clear record of how many songs Lata has sung. Some say 25,000, others 45,000; but nobody is sure, and Lata herself has stated innumerable times she didn’t believe in keeping count of numbers. But do such numbers really matter? It is only when quality is shaky that quantity assumes importance. However, she was fortunate to have spent the prime time of her career alongside the greats of Indian film music. Composers of the caliber of Madan Mohan, Naushad, Salil Choudary, Shankar-Jaikishen spun beautiful melodies for her. Male singers in the form of Kishore, Rafi, Mukesh, and Manna Dey wonderfully complemented Lata in many unforgettable duets; and gifted lyricists like Sahir, Shailendra, Shakeel Badayuni, and Gulzar created magic in words, fully aware, that in Lata’s voice not a word would be mispronounced, or, out of place, or out of tune. Indeed, one of Lata’s greatest strengths was her ability to sing with pristine clarity with each word falling clearly and unambiguously on the listener’s ears. Whether it is Hindi or Urdu or Bengali or other languages, her understanding of the lyrics and the effort she put into ensuring the words are not mispronounced made each song an enjoyable listening experience. She understood the inseparable connection between the lyrics and the tune. The often-debated issue of whether tune precedes lyrics or vice versa lost its meaning in Lata’s renditions. There are enough songs where Lata’s soaring voice magically transformed a pedestrian lyric into immortal melodies, and there are equally enough songs when Lata showcased the brilliance of the lyrics over the tune. As a great artist should, she knew the right balance between the two without any dispute or debate.
To a few composers, Lata was the muse herself. It is for and through her, they created some of the best compositions in Indian film music. For instance, Madan Mohan’s work without Lata is unimaginable. Lata sang most of his songs, not because others couldn’t do it, but Lata understood like no other the layered musical nuances of his classical compositions. Deeply trained in classical music from an early age by her father, Lata had the gift of grasping the essence of a classically textured song and translating the complexity of it into a honeyed melody that fulfilled its purpose. Nowhere is that perfect synergy visible than in that great Madan Mohan composition “Lag ja gale..”. Many aspiring and accomplished singers have attempted to emulate Lata’s performance; but Lata’s original rendition still remains unparalleled in its controlled and right spacing of notes, the emotive force behind each phrase, and in the ebbing and waning of her silken voice to the undulations of the tune. This is just one instance among many others. Similarly, for the young RD Burman, who faced the onerous task of living unto his father’s genius, Lata was his savior. Who can forget the brilliant songs in Aandhi, or Kati Patang or that splendid album “Amar Prem”. This list can go on.
Lata had her detractors too. Critiques and composers pointed out she didn’t have a versatile repertoire of songs as some others. Well, That is true. Very early in her career, Lata made a deliberate decision not to sing songs that she deemed inappropriate according to her inner moral compass. And she never relaxed her barriers for anyone at any time. In film music, versatility often meant singing any song, regardless of the musical or lyrical sensibility of it; and Lata made a conscious choice not to go down that path. Just as 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 creatively influence. Most composers respected her decision and gave her songs – even sensual ones – only if the composition met her aesthetic standards in both tune and lyrics. Once again, Lata drew a line between vulgarity and romance. She knew which ones to pick. Lata’s rendition of a song such as “Baahon me chale aa.”, which many would consider bordering precariously between lust and romance, somehow manages to rise above both emotions. Only she could do that.
Lata Mangeshkar passed away today. A whole generation and a half have grown up listening to her voice, and it is certain that many more generations to come will listen to her voice with equal awe and respect. There is a purity in her singing voice that defies definition. Like MS Subbhalakshmi, that doyen of South Indian classical music, Lata’s presence, and her voice bring calmness, sublime peace, and is an energizing balm to tired souls. Lata’s dedication to her art was exemplary. The daily discipline of practice, the unostentatious lifestyle, the humility about her talent, and complete devotion to each song, will remain a benchmark for others to strive for. Well-loved admired and respected by all, she epitomized how a true artist can stand heads and shoulders above petty trifles. Age can never dim the sweetness of her voice or the reach of her music. “Tu Jahan Jahan chale ga..” will continue to haunt every Indian living as an immigrant in a foreign country, “Satyam Shivam Sundaram” will continue to ooze sweetness; and “Aaayega Aane wala” – which Lata sang when she was barely twenty, will continue to mesmerize listeners for its innocent perfection; and the languid melody from Pakeezah “ Chalte Chalte” will invoke a sense of weariness that comes out of the fullness of living – all of these, and many, many more songs will remain our national treasures as long as we continue to respect and cherish our Indian heritage.
So the question really is, do Artists like Lata ever die? What does death mean in their case? Lata had stopped singing many years ago, so in that sense, she was not a contemporary singer for nearly a decade at least, yet not a day has gone by without her voice wafting from somewhere into our lives, and held us enthralled, even if it be for a moment or two. Those moments reminded us that Lata was still physically with us, and that was a comforting thought. But now that consolation is no more. Her mortal frame is given back to nature, and what remains, and will continue to remain forever with us, are the countless songs of incomparable beauty bequeathed to us. Should we mourn her death? or celebrate a rich and fulfilling creative life she lived for ninety-two years? which of these two do we adopt? I prefer celebrating such a life. Great art is timeless and never ends. We are fortunate in this digital age to have almost all of Lata’s songs at the click of a button. It is time to create our personal Lata playlists if we don’t have one already and keep company with her voice whenever we need it. Even today ” Tu Jahan Jahan chalega” moves me to tears. I don’t know the reason, but it does. Lata’s beautiful, aching, comforting, and soothing voice generates a potpourri of emotions within oneself. II sometimes switch it off midway, afraid it will overwhelm me. Such is the power of her voice and the force of the compositions given to her to breathe life into, embellish and adorn. We remain eternally grateful. In a span of fifteen months, we have lost two great artists – SPB and Lata. two blemishless singers, gifted, humble, and who spent their entire lives serving the art they were decreed to serve. In Lata’s case, she took up commercial singing to support her family, and that became her creed, her destiny, and her artistic consummation. While her body rests in the eternal, we will continue to remain with her in voice and spirit.
God bless…
yours in mortality,
Bala