“Please do not mention their names,” he requests humbly. “I do not want to hurt anyone. It was I who was never inclined towards the tricks of this trade. Raj (Kapoor)saab had called me to RK Studios after hearing my two songs Zindagi kaisi hai paheli and Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye, (Hrishida had dedicated the film to Rajsaab who had inspired the story) but when I reached there the watchman took one look at me and refused to believe both that I was a shaayar and that Rajsaab had summoned me. I never wore the adornments of a shaayar - the kurta, the pyjama or the long hair! So all that the watchman said was ‘Tumhare jaise to roz yahaan aate hain!’ This happened thrice and each time I had changed trains and buses to reach RK Studios in Chembur.”
Laughs Yogesh at the memory, ‘Years later, one of the top names in music scolded me for this, because I could have taken the help of anyone - Hrishida (Hrishikesh Mukherjee), Mukeshji, Mannada or Salilda - in getting through. The point was that Rajsaab must have thought that I never gave him importance!’
Yogesh digresses and adds, “I never could work with any of the Kapoors. Anand was to be enacted by Shashi Kapoor but that too never happened.” The poet obviously does not consider his work for Karisma Kapoor’s Dulaara significant enough.
But the real twist in the tale comes from the lyricist’s revelation that he became a songwriter for the most inconceivable reason. Here’s how the story went: “I came to Mumbai from Lucknow when my father expired and I wanted a job - but not in films. My cousin, the popular late writer Vrajendra Gaur, said that I should do something in films but never helped me though he could have. So a friend of mine named Satyaprakash was very angry about this and told me that I must succeed in films in any department I thought it apt! He told me not to worry about sustenance as he would look after that! A long struggle followed. I was living alone in a chawl and even learnt to cook!And I struck off my surname so that my cousin could never say that I was using some point of connection with him to get anywhere!”
Yogesh considered the options of scriptwriting, dialogues writing and lyrics because he was good at memorising poetry from his schooldays. “My mother was extremely fond of poetry and I was brought up in the literary culture of Lucknow,” says the poet. “So I began to try out writing songs, and providence helped me along with life’s pains and struggle. I kept writing, and slowly realized that my poems were liked by my neighbours to the extent that no one believed they were originals!”
Yogesh had a humble beginning with Sakhi Robin (1963) with music by Robin Banerjee, a small-timer whom he happened to meet. “He called me to his music room for over a month where he would just play music and I would listen, and after that when I asked him when he was giving me work, he just said, ‘I’m giving you tunes everyday for a month. Why are you not writing anything?’”
The incident was an eye-opener in more than one sense. Yogesh realised that in films, most lyrics were written to metres given by a composer. “I found that easier than writing a song first,” admits the writer. “Also 50 per cent of the effect comes from the melody and I do not recollect any composer who went home with my lyrics made tunes.”
Sakhi Robin’s Tum jo aao to pyar aa jaye was a hit and Robin signed nine small films, most of which like Marvel Man, Flying Circus and Adventure Of Robin Hood were written by Yogesh. Among other early Yogesh films were Ek Raat with Usha Khanna (“Majroohsaab told me that no one had written a better song on beauty than my song Sau baar banaakar maalik ne that Rafisaab sang”). I also wrote a song for Laxmikant-Pyarelal, who were struggling then, in Duniya Nachegi. There was some financial problem and the music was not even released! Later, till the ‘90s, our’s seemed a star-struck association as somehow any film planned with us never took off or was made without me.”
Times changed by a strange quirk. “I had no money to even buy a gramophone to hear my own songs, so we would go to Sabita Choudhary, who was not even married to Salilda then but was seeing him, to listen to the records as she had a turntable,” recalls Yogesh. “It was she who recommended me to Salilda as Shailendra was no more and Salil Choudhary was making a comeback with a film named Anand. And with Anand I took off. Hrishida and I worked in several films like Sabse Bada Sukh, Mili, Rang Birangi and Kisi Se Na Kehna while Basu Chaterjee heard my songs and summoned me for Us Paar and Rajnigandha.”
Till Pratiksha, Basuda’s last film to date, Yogesh wrote most of his subsequent films, prominent among them being Chhoti Si Baat, Priyatama, Dillagi, Manzil (1979), Baaton Baaton Mein, Apne Paraye and Shaukeeen. Chor Aur Chand, Hamare Tumhare, Honeymoon (1973), Mahesh Bhatt’s debut film Manzilein Aur Bhi Hain and Sshhhh… are among his other known films.
“Salilda was my favourite composer,” declares Yogesh. “Very reserved when I was first introduced to him, once he opened up he was great fun.He was probably the only Bengali composer with a great sense of Hindi lyrics, maybe because he was a writer and poet himself, and so well-read that he was an encyclopaedia on every subject! In fact Bengali literature lost its greatest poet after Tagore when Salilda came into music and films! Everyone said that his compositions were like the jalebi, twisted and convoluted, but I never had a problem even in songs like Nis din nis din and Guzar na jaaye din din din (Annadata), Pyaas liye manwaa (Mere Bhaiyya) or Rajnigandha phool tumhare (Rajnigandha).”
Yogesh is now working with Sanjoy Choudhury, Salil’s son in Suno Na…. “His music is contemporary, but his approach is like his dad’s.” Suno Na…, he tells you, is an interesting story of an unwed mother talking to her unborn child and has five situational songs.
About the other father and son pair he has worked with, he recalls with affection the quirks of Dada (S.D.Burman) who worked with him in Us Paar and Mili. “When Basuda first sent me to him for Us Paar, Dada warned me that he would throw me out if I was not good! Later, he gave me the tunes of Mili before he fell seriously ill. R.D.Burman recorded Maine kaha phoolon se and Badi sooni sooni hai and Dada would mock-criticise Pancham’s treatment of the songs!” smiles Yogesh.
“But Aaye tum yaad mujhe was a tune that Panchamda had not even heard from Dada, so I sang it out in my off-key way to Kishore Kumar and the arrangers and Kishoreda declared that he would sing it just the way I had! With Panchamda I later did at least 8-10 films, and it was Deven Verma who first signed us together for Bada Kabutar. But though Pancham liked me, I was fifth in his list, after (Anand)Bakshisaab, Majroohsaab, Gulshan Bawra and Gulzarsaab!”
Yogesh never could reconcile to the cold, emotion-less business mindset of the industry. “But I have no complaints. I am content and financially secure. My three children are well-settled and I have simple wants,” says the writer. “The only work I have done outside films are the title-tracks of 200 television serials and a choir song with Salilda. I have had the privilege of doing two films with Manna Dey as a music composer, Hemantda’s home production Chala Murari Hero Banne and the script, dialogues and lyrics of Kishoreda’s last film Pyar Ajnabi Hai.”
But the core mystery remains - how did he reach this level of excellence without any kind of poetic base? “I honestly do not know,” smiles the writer. “God helped me somewhere. But the fact remains that every time I would be at a recording I would want to improve some of the lines!”
And what was his own take on lyrics? “Though my all-time favourite song that makes me cry is Koi gaata main so jaata written by Dr Harvanshrai Bachchan, I rate Shailendra, Sahir Ludhianvi and Pradeep as the best writers. Having grown up in Lucknow, I was influenced more by Urdu and shaayari earlier and wrote songs like Maana mere raqs-e-qadam and others. It was Salilda, whose metres were not fit for the ghazal-like format, who turned me into a kavi!”
