Songs and a film’s success
Since time immemorial, songs have always added to a film’s success. But songs alone have never been able to lift a film to successful levels. From the 1990s, perhaps, it was the films that often led to the success of the music, and so when musically strong movies often bit the dust or did tepid business, their songs too usually sank along with them (Sahibaan in 1993 and Veer in 2010 being standout examples).
However, songs are no longer what they used to be. In the last two years, trade analysts have also commented on how even a couple of hit songs can further boost a big film (Pathaan, Jawan, Gadar 2, Animal, Stree 2) and even make a mediocre film do modest business (Teri Baton Mein Aisa Uljha Jiya, Bad Newz). But now that Chhaava is doing great business, we can chalk up one more movie whose music does not seem to matter at all and the film is roaring only on its intrinsic strength.
Back to musical titles
Old songs becoming titles of new films has been a long-standing tradition with Hindi movies. We cannot forget how the songs of Karz spawned six film titles and the ultimate case was of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, that 1995 blockbuster whose apt title was a Rajkavi Inderjit Singh Tulsi-written chartbuster from the 1974 Chor Machaye Shor. Shammi Kapoor’s hit songs were also known to be repeated in his own films (Tumse Accha Kaun Hai from Janwar, Kashmir Ki Kali from Junglee). Now, Dinesh Vijan’s latest among forthcoming productions is Param Sundari named after the hit song from his Mimi. And a twist in the meaning (a prime beauty) always makes this tangier: Param is a North Indian boy and Sundari the Southern girl to whom he loses his heart!
Repeating ‘metres’
Composers repeating ‘metres’ of other composers’ or their own songs has also been a frequent ‘ritual’ in Hindi film music. We had mentioned Laxmikant-Pyarelal’s ‘Ruk jaana nahin’ (Imtihan) - ‘Dafliwale’(Sargam) example recently. The case of ‘Thandi hawayen’ (S.D. Burman / Naujawan) -‘Rahe na rahe hum’ (Roshan /Mamta) and ‘Saagar kinare’ (R.D. Burman / Saagar) has been bandied about frequently in music columns.
And here we have another very interesting case. R.D. Burman, despite excellent work in the 1960s, had to wait until The Train (1970) to make a lasting impact. And his biggest hit from this film, ‘Gulabi ankhen’ was smartly reworked by him again for Rajesh Khanna just two years later as ‘Chala jaata hoon’ for Mere Jeevan Saathi. This time, the film flopped, but the tune was another super-hit!
The filmmaker’s role in music
We all know the great lengths to which musical filmmakers like V. Shantaram, Raj Kapoor, Guru Dutt, Raj Khosla, Manoj Kumar, Anurag Basu and Sanjay Leela Bhansali went or get involved with their music from the word ‘go’. In his biography, Karma’s Child, Subhash Ghai details how the melody of ‘Do dil mil rahe hain’ (Pardes) was finally recorded on his say-so with just two percussion tracks out of the 10 to 12 that were planned. Only 10 of the 75 musicians called were used, and the rest were paid and sent away. And this was only because Ghai felt that the slow melody did not need a heavy orchestra.
Lesson learnt well
Ghai is open about the fact that a lot of the knowledge he has acquired in music is thanks to his long association with Laxmikant-Pyarelal. He has once told me about when ‘Lambi judaai’ was to be recorded for Hero. Unaware of how L-P were to adapt to the song sung by Pakistani singer Reshma, he reached Mehboob Studios and saw nine musicians rehearsing. “L-P normally recorded with 100 musicians, so I was expecting more, but then they told me that they had decided to have only nine musicians so that Reshma could sing in a free, open way and not be intimidated by a heavy orchestra.” Such lessons from masters, said Ghai, are what teach a willing student valuable things about music!
That personal touch
Coming to lyricists, many of them do get in semi-autobiographical touches in their songs whenever a chance comes up by way of a situation. If Sahir Ludhianvi was a classic case of a cynic who seized every opportunity to be personal about his bitter experiences of all hues, Anand Bakshi too had his zones where, without bitterness but with a philosophical and often positive and assertive touch, he wrote songs that spoke, perhaps, of his innermost feelings.
In Jab Jab Phool Khile, he wrote a song that reflected on his long struggle in Mumbai with the words, ‘Yahan main ajnabi hoon’ but added a nice romantic angle along with a cultural touch (‘Teri baahon mein dekhoon sanam auron ki baahein / Main laaoonga kahaan se bhala aisi nigahen’). Having never seen his mother, who died when he was an infant, Bakshi was perhaps influenced to write not only ‘Tu kitni acchi hai / Tu kitni bholi hai’ (Raja Aur Rank) but also ‘Maine maa ko dekha hai / Maa ka pyar nahin dekha’ (Mastana).
Detaching personal from professional
Lata Mangeshkar, however, was one person who never mixed the personal with the professional. Having sung the maximum number of poignant songs in female solos (and some duets), she once admitted in a radio interview that she never ever cried while recording such a song, sometimes even when “everyone else in the studio was crying”! Kishore Kumar was another such master. As Kavita Krishnamurthi Subramaniam told me once, “Kishore-da would be cracking jokes and making us laugh till our stomachs ached, and then would be called in to record a sad song. He would sing it with so much pathos that it would make us cry, and then come out and start his jokes again!”
