The last straw

Last week, a city tabloid carried the startling news, ‘R.D. Burman returns to films.’ No, neither was I hallucinating, nor was it a printer’s devil. Nor was it a case of re-incarnation or the supernatural. It was just a brainwave on the part of actor-producer Viveck Vaswani for his new film.

And what was this brainwave? Well, a certain number of songs (the number does not matter) composed by the late genius will come to us, freshly sung (probably by the clones) and freshly recorded. The necessary legal licence, one hears, has already been obtained from the music lable concerned. The songs, of course, will be filmed in the regular way on newer artistes. According to Vaswani (whose track record to date comprises of the modest success Raju Ban Gaya Gentleman and two flops Patthar Ke Phool and Sar Ankhon Par), thsi gambit will make his film the ‘most eagerly awaited and exiting project in the coming year. His special triumph, it seems, lies in the fact that Babloo Chakravorty, who arranged the originals, will be re-packaging the new ones.
A call to Mr Chakravorty makes clear his stand that these songs are “not remixes” because they “do not have additional jhankar or other beats.” The parties concerned also would not like them to be known by the downmarket term, ‘cover versions’, which they undoubtedly are by definition. But while most remixes are made with the idea of making old music danceable and listenable to the ‘now’ generation, and cover versions made by labels that do not possess rights to the originals, this one is a classic example of the creative penury and impoverisshed vision of men for whom nothing is sacrosanct if it can earn them publicity and moolah.

Hindi cinema is known for a genre of song called parady, found in humorous situations, where fragments of old hits are humorously used or even lampooned. The best known examples of such songs - usually with modified wordings - are Mr. India and Lamhe, though one has heard them as late as Kahin Pyaar Na Ho Jaaye last year. Very rarely a full song has been parodied, as in Angoor (Preetam aan milo) or Chhupa Rustom (the Albela hit Dheere se aana ri to Dheere se jaana khatiyaan mein with a modified tune). In 1999, Sandeep Chowta used the Pancham mukhda from Zamane Ko Dikhaana Hai (Poocho na yaar kya hua) in Mast, with new ‘antaras’. In Maine Pyar Kiya, the lead characters are shown playing the traditional antakshari, studded with mukhdas of older songs. All these were excused either by the situation or/and the intentions, which were to have some pure fun. Within them lay respect, love and warm feelings towards these all-timers without which the situations could not have been thus enriched. The Mast case was, in a way, the tribute, however misguided, of a fan (Sandeep) to his idol (RD again).

But this is graphically, deplorably, alarmingly different. Imagine this ridiculous situation where the original Dum maro dum belongs to Hare Rama Hare Krishna, and its 2001 avtaar to this new film, and both are on HMV! Come to think of it, will Asha Bhonsle be party to this final assault on Pancham, and this last straw in the attacks on originality and quality in film music?
It is a common fault with issues of remixes and even some covers that the credits to the original creators are withheld. I know of an instance where a teenager was asked which film Chura liya hai tumne was from, and the answer she gave was the name of a remix album. So, will future generations believe that a classic like O mere sona re belonged, not to Teesri Manzil, but to a Viveck Vaswani film?

One can explain (if not ethically excuse) Babloo Chakravorty’s refusal to comment on the propriety of Vaswani’s actions. But what is the IMI doing? When it cries itself hoarse about piracy and intellectual rights, why is it silent after Vaswani has actually announced his intentions? Can’t the IPRS intervene in this final death-knell to creativity? Or will they again leave it to the shrewd aam janata to give a befitting reply to this kind of musical blasphemy?

And what if it the janata - as represented by the urban youngsters who form the bulk of the buying power today - actually endorse this kind of atrocity? Shall it open the doors for more such ‘eagerly-awaited music(k)als? Shall we then come to a stage where new or unknown faces will sing - in one film - Hum tum ek kamre mein band ho (Bobby), Laila o laila (Qurbani), My heart is beating (Julie), Bambai se aaya mera dost (Aap Ki Khatir) and Paanch rupaiya barah anna (Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi)? The possibilities are endless and unimaginably sick.

Ever since R.D. Burman has been kept ‘alive’ in a way with his remixes, I have often had occasion to feel a trifle upset at the way the phenomenal contributions of his contemporaries Laxmikant-Pyarelal and Kalyanji-Anandji have been largely ignored, and only Pancham hyped (after he passed away). But today, I look at it from the flipside. The songs of L-P and K-A - the vast majority of them that is - live on as sparkling originals, heard, enjoyed and savoured by their genuine fans and music lovers, and not used by non-talents to buffer their pockets. Poor Pancham does not have a choice.

I can hear the Vaswani camp whitewash this move by claiming that it is a ‘humble tribute’ to an idol. As said above, Vaswani directed three films, two of which were even released in R.D. Burman’s lifetime, while the third, if I am not mistaken, just might have been launched when RD was alive too. Why was RD sidelined then, and Jatin-Lalit (who emulated his style) signed for two of them?

Rajiv Vijayakar

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