THAT WESTERN TOUCH

The carefully-perpetuated myth that Lata lacked the Western touch was blown to smithereens with Lata’s sensuous rendition of Laxmikant-Pyarelal’s classy cabaret Aa jaan-e-jaan (Intequam). We use the term ‘carefully-perpetuated’ with reason: Lata had been singing Western songs with consummate ease all the way from the ‘50s. But it took 1969 and Helen teasing a caged prisoner to finally equate Lata with Western music.

However it is true that very few composers explored this side of her all-encompassing virtuosity. Among these were L-P themselves (with their other cabarets Jameela /Night In London, Mehfil soyi /Intequam again and Lata’s only ‘disco’ song Mere naseeb mein /Naseeb, now one of her oft-remixed songs), Shankar-Jaikishan and Salil Chowdhury.

S-J gave Lata the cream of their Western numbers, from the waltz masterpieces of Dil Apna Aur Preet Parai (Ajeeb dastaan hai yeh) to Raat Aur Din (Dil ki girah khol do and Awara ae mere dil) apart from cabaret numbers like Jeenewale jhoom ke (Gumnaam).

Salil Chowdhury employed her skills at such songs with Rimjhim ke yeh saare saare (Usne Kaha Tha) and Itna na mujhse tu pyar badha (Chhaya) while Rajesh Roshan added his bit with Yeh raaten nayi purani (Julie) and Aao manaye jashn-e-mohabbat (Doosara Aadmi) and so did Kalyanji-Anandji (Jis ka mujhe tha intezaar/ Don and Dil to hai dil/ Muqaddar Ka Sikander) and R.D.Burman with Baahon mein chale aao (Anamika). And how can we forget C.Ramachandra’s Shola jo bhadke (Albela)?

SCALES IN HER STRIDE
Far more than any other singer with the possible exception of Mohammed Rafi among the male, Lata was the voice of choice for convoluted compositions that twisted and turned in pace and pitch. As maverick composer Sajjad said, “Kambakth kabhi besuri hi nahin hoti!” (whose rough translation would read ‘Damn that woman -she never goes off-key!’)

So while Shankar-Jaikishan and Laxmikant-Pyarelal largely gave her deceptively simple songs that were actually terrifically demanding, it was left to Salil Chowdhury (Aaja re pardesi and Bichhua from Madhumati besides later examples in Parakh’s O sajana and songs from Annadata and Rajnigandha), Jaidev (Yeh dil aur unki from Prem Parbat and the songs from Hum Dono and Reshma Aur Shera), Khayyam (Ae dil-e-nadaan/Razia Sultan) and others to give Lata very convoluted tunes. Exquisite Urdu phraseology with immaculate diction was yet another Lata forte, as the last song showed. We got a whiff of this in many other songs too, notably Sarakti jaaye hai (with Kishore/Deedaar-E-Yaar). As for pure Hindi and Sanskrit, Lata took to them like to the manner born in so many Hindi and Marathi songs, traditional aartis and so on.

THAT TEENAGE FEEL

Lata was past 40 when she sang Accha to hum chalte hain for Aan Milo Sajna, but she almost sounded all of eighteen under the baton of L-P. So while a young Lata sounding young for yesteryear’s ‘mature’ heroines was perhaps not something exceptional, it was amazing that Lata sounded all of 16 when two years after Aan Milo Sajana, she recorded Hum tum ek kamre mein band ho, Mujhe kuchh kehna hai and Jhooth bole kauwa kaate for L-P’s Bobby.

And so it came to be that after Bobby (though she had earlier been the first voice of so many debut-making heroines like Saira Banu, Hema Malini and Raakhee), Lata became the voice of choice for almost every new major heroine all the way till Preity Zinta (Dil Se…) and Namrata Shirodkar (Jab Pyaar Kisise Hota Hai) in the ‘90s. Come Bindiya Goswami, Tina Munim, Jaya Prada, Poonam Dhillon, Rati Agnihotri, Amrita Singh, Mandakini, Neelam, Sonam, Ashwini Bhave, Zeba Bakhtiar, Raveena Tandon or Manisha Koirala, Lata had to be the ‘young’ playback voice of a newbie.

THE SENSUAL PEAKS

Yet another Lata branding was her ‘chaste’ image. True, she refused to sing songs that had cheap lyrics. She even broke off with Raj Kapoor for nine years after he filmed her Main kya karoon Ram mujhe Buddha mil gaya (Sangam) in a blatantly suggestive way.

But Lata’s sensuality quotient could be truly electric, and the clever lyricists, composers and filmmakers knew exactly how she could accept such songs and make the most erotic words seem classy.

Bichhua (with Manna Dey in Madhumati), her Amrapali repertoire (Tadap yeh din raat ki, Tumhein yaad karte karte, Jao re jogi, Neel gagan ki chhaon mein), Utsav (Man kyoon behka and Neelam pe nabh chhayi, both with sis Asha), Bindiya chamkegi (Do Raaste), Dilbar dil se pyaare (Caravan), Haaye haaye yeh majboori (Roti Kapada Aur Makaan), Ruk jaa raat (Dil Ek Mandir), Lag jaa gale (Woh Kaun Thi?) and many more and even Marathi songs like Malvoon tak deep showcase this ‘erotic’ quotient along with all her mujras from Pakeezah, Ek Nazar, Sharafat, Adalat and many more.

Inexplicably, none of the younger composers ever exploited this side of her. Maybe they were too much in awe of the Lady In White.

RULING TRADITION

Lata’s personal choice in music lay somewhere between a mix of the folk and the raags - both representing traditions. As composer Anandghan (her pseudonym as a film composer) she exhibited her métier in songs like Airanichyaa deva (Saadhi Mansa) and Akherchaa haa tulaa dandavata (Maratha Tituka Melawa). Of course, she simply excelled in so many raag-and folk-based songs under traditionally-rooted composers like S.D.Burman, Naushad, Roshan, Madan Mohan, Laxmikant-Pyarelal and also brother Hridaynath Mangeshkar and Vasant Desai in her Marathi films.

The sheer innocence of her voice in the many children’s songs she vocalised (Main ek chhota sa/Harishchandra Taramati, Bacche man ke sacche/Do Kaliyan), the motherly affection radiating from loris like Dheere se aaja ri (Albela) and many more and of course the innumerable devotional songs she sang, in films or otherwise across many languages, all added to her comprehensive versatility.

THE PERFECT SHADE

And we now come to another of Lata’s supreme gifts that makes her what she is - her ability to impart the exact tenor, colour and ethos to diverse songs. The garba seems to take on an authentic Gujarati hue in Main to bhool chali babul ka des (Saraswatichandra), you can sense the peace of a church in Mother Mary (Bachpan), and a pure Eastern flavour in Mora gora ang lai le (Bandini) or O Tushima ri Tushima (Yeh Gulistan Hamara), touch the fields of Punjab in Ni main yaar manana ni (Daag), experience a tangible pain in Neela aasmaan so gaya (Silsila) and Rasik balma (Aah), feel the eerie menace of Main teri dushmun (Nagina) and be haunted forever by that Lata’s spook-fest of Aayega aanewala (Mahal), Aaja re pardesi (Madhumati), Kahin deep jale kahin dil (Bees Saal Baad), Naina barse (Woh Kaun Thi?) and Gumnaam hai koi (Gumnaam).

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