Remember the songs ‘Laagi chhute na...’ (Kali Topi Lal Rumaal), or ‘Dil ka diya jalaake gaya...’ (Akash Deep), or ‘Jodi hamari jamenga kaise jaani...’ (Aulad)? These songs had a unique flavour, typical of composer Chitragupta, who managed to juggle between classical and modern numbers with ease.

Chitragupta Shrivastav, who died 11 years ago on January 14, was a low-profile composer and not as famous as his contemporaries. But being a Master of Arts in more than just the academic sense (in his earlier films he would flaunt his degree as he was mighty proud of his education, and he insisted that sons Anand and Milind complete their education), it never mattered to him. He lived for the sake of his art, and singer Udit Narayan remembers that he was one of those rare men who would actually get tense about great success and money.

But if Udit, as a struggler, knew him only in his last days when Chitragupta was the king of Bhojpuri film music, sons Anand and Milind recollect his early days in the Hindi film industry. Anand remembers that his father was never keen on his sons following him in music profession because of its vagaries, but happily remembers his late father’s pride when Anand-Milind tasted their first success with the music of Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak and Lal Dupatta Malmal Ka, within four years of their debut. “My father had a very long struggle, even though his earliest songs had a touch of modernity despite being raag-based,” remembers Milind.

Chitragupta’s first film was Ramnik Vaidya’s Nadia-starrer Lady Robinhood, followed by Fighting Hero and Toofan Queen, all in 1946. His first hit song came six years later with the Rafi-Shamshad Begum duet, ‘Adaa se jhumte hue...’ (Sindbad The Sailor/1952). ‘Mujhe apni sharan mein le lo Ram...’ (Tulsidas/1954) was another hit. It was only with AVM’s Shiv Bhakt (1955) that he did his first A-grade film.

Even after Chitragupta became a known name, the bulk of his assignments were smaller films, though AVM remained loyal to him through a string of big films like Bhabhi, Barkha, Main Chup Rahoongi and Main Bhi Ladki Hoon. Among the other few big names that the composer worked with were Mohan Segal, Krishnan-Panju, Hrishikesh Mukherjee, G.P. Sippy, T. Prakash Rao, Phani Majumdar, Kishore Sahu and A. Bhimsingh. Not being the friendly sort, he didn’t work with star actors and filmmakers. Says Anand, “He never worked with Raj Kapoor, Dev Anand or Dilip Kumar. Shammi Kapoor Saab once met him, praised his music and called him over. Had my father gone, they would have worked together, for that was Shammi Saab’s style. But he did not.”

One more incident tellingly refers to how low-profile Chitragupta could be. At the premiere of Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, producer Nasir Husain introduced his young composers to Raj Kapoor as Anand-Milind, the sons of Chitraguptaji. “Rajji expressed joy and said that he had always loved daddy’s songs but had never met him! So it was we who introduced Rajji to daddy that day in 1988. They had never met though they had been both around since the 40s!” says Anand.

Born on November 16, 1917, in Chhapra, a small village in the Gopalganj district of Bihar, Chitragupta was a double M.A. (Economics and Journalism), and was even a lecturer in Patna for some time. He would write, compose and sing songs during the freedom struggle, and was even jailed for a while.

Alongwith two friends, Madan Sinha, who became a top-ranking cinematographer, and B.P. Sinha, who later became the manager of Shree Sound Studios, he ran away to Mumbai to become a composer. “It was not easy in those days,” recollects Milind, “My father would give tuitions to facilitate things. A friend called Mr. Badami introduced him to the late composer Sri Nath Tripathi, and my father joined him as an assistant. There was a film in which dad had composed most of the songs, and Tripathiji told this to a producer and suggested that my father do his next film. My father never forgot this gesture.”

Similarly, the composer’s major break in Shiv Bhakt was courtesy S.D. Burman, who shared a mutual fan club with Chitragupta. “Dada Burman was the AVM favourite then,” says Milind, “But when they offered him a mythological, he was apprehensive about doing it. He suggested my father’s name and told Mr. Meiyyappan that my father would do as good a job. And such was his clout then, that the producers straightaway came and signed dad. With Shiv Bhakt, dad came into commercial reckoning. Adds Anand, “Despite his classical leanings, daddy was very flexible. In fact, he parted ways with Tripathiji because they could not agree with each other on Western influences. But he was never money-minded, even when he was among the leading composers. When AVM offered him a big film in the 60s, at a time when Shanker-Jaikishan were charging in lakhs, he hesitantly quoted Rs. 20,000 as his fees.”

It is said of Chitragupta that his early music resembled that of C. Ramachandra’s because of a common arranger as well as recordist. But the composer soon evolved a distinct leitmotif. “His songs,” says Milind, “were very contemporary, yet with strong traditional roots.” His 180-odd Hindi films (about 20 more were in Bhojpuri) had distinctive melodies that were a blend of the experimental and the catchy. The Chitragupta track-record comprised songs like ‘Hum matwale naujawan...’ and ‘Ek raat mein do do chand khile...’ (Barkha), ‘Teri shokh nazar ka ishara...’ (Patang), ‘Dagabaaz ho...’ (Burmah Road), ‘Chhedo na meri zulfein...’ and the title track (Ganga Ki Lahren), ‘Chali chali re patang...’ and ‘Chal udd jaa re panchi...’ (Bhabhi), ‘Ajnabee se bankar...’, ‘Uthegi tumhari nazar...’, the classical ‘Payal wali dekhna...’ (Ek Raaz), ‘Dekho mausam kya bahaar...’, ‘Dagaa dagaa vai vai vai...’ and ‘Dil ko lakh sambhaala ji...’ (Opera House).

Among his other known numbers were ‘Deewane tum deewane hum...’ (Bezubaan), ‘Haye re tere chanchal nainwaa...’ and ‘Jaag dil-e-diwana...’ (Oonche Log), ‘Krishna o kale Krishna...’ (Main Bhi Ladki Hoon), ‘Aaj ki raat naya chand leke...’ (Shaadi), ‘Teri duniya se door...’ (Zabak), ‘Ae meri hamnashi...’ (Pyar Ka Sapna), ‘Ab ke bahar aayi hai...’ and ‘Nazuk nazuk badan mora...’ (Aulad), ‘Tumhi ho mata pita tumhi ho...’ Main Chup Rahungi), ‘Yeh parbaton ke daaere...’ (arguably one of the best Rafi-Lata duets), ‘Jeene wale jhoom ke...’ and ‘Itni nazuk na bano...’ (Vaasna).

Chitragupta, like many of our great composers, was overwhelmingly attuned to Lata and Rafi. But there are Chitragupta compositions in the honours list of every major singer, and his sons especially recollect his predilection for Lata Mangeshkar-Mahendra Kapoor duets like ‘Aaja re mere pyar ke rahi...’ (Oonche Log), ‘Koi aanewala hai...’ (Mera Qusoor Kya Hai) and ‘Tumne hasi hi hasi mein...’ (Ghar Basake Dekho).

Not many are aware that the composer was also a singer and lyricist. “Most of the songs he recorded in his voice proved hits,” says Milind, as he plays out two diverse songs ‘Bhagwan tujhe main khat likhta...’ or his duet with Kishore Kumar, ‘Sardi ka bukhaar bura...’, both from Manchalaa, proving that Chitragupta was next only to C. Ramachandra among the composers with a singer’s voice. “It is a mystery why he did not sing more, though he rendered more than 30 songs,” says Milind, and reveals that many of the mukhdas as well as antaras of some of his father’s hit songs were ghost-written by him. “He had a great ear for poetry despite the fact that he composed the tune before the lyrics were written,” says Milind, “In fact, dad was pretty apprehensive about working with Sahir Saab in Vaasna (they later did Sansar too) because he was known to be autocratic and fond of writing the lyrics first. But to his surprise, Sahir actually told him that he had no objection to writing to his tunes. They composed Vaasna in both ways, and what a score it turned out to be.”

At the time when Chitragupta was at his peak, the sons recall Lata Mangeshkar spending entire days with their family. “She used to enjoy my mother’s cooking, and in the evening, all of them, along with dad’s arranger, would go to watch some English film,” says Milind. Anand recalls, “Dad often did several assignments, and we remember a day in 1964 when Anand Bakshi Saab was writing a song in our front garden, Majrooh Saab on his favourite chair in the drawing room, Rajendra Krishan in the music room, and Prem Dhawan under a coconut tree in the back garden, with dad moving from one to another, like some headmaster checking the work of various students.”

The good times continued well into the 60s, and in 1962, Chitragupta composed the cult music of the first-ever Bhojpuri film Ganga Maiyya Tohe Piyari Chadhaibo, with the Shailendra-written title-track sung by Lata and Usha Mangeshkar becoming a rage. But trouble began in 1968 when the composer suffered a heart attack, followed by a stroke in 1974. “One half of his body was paralysed, and though he recovered slowly, he had a problem with his memory. But dad displayed amazing will-power and began to learn the 108 shlokas of Shirdi Sai Baba to tone up his brain. In 1985, he staged a return to Bhojpuri films, and even his last Hindi release, Ghar Dwaar (1985) proved to be a success, and ushered in the trend of family drams with the word ‘Ghar’ in the titles.
In Bhojpuri films, he was the king till the last. “In U.P. the crowds are something else,” says Anand, “We have personally seen the audience go berserk during the songs. In the interiors there, if they love a song, they want a repeat showing of the song. If they don’t get it, they damage the seats and break a few things. And dad’s songs were a rage.”

Chitragupta also did Punjabi and Gujarati films, and a dubbed Tamil film starring MGR. Sum up the sons, “Dad composed well for every kind of film - stunt, devotional or social. He always changed with the times, but his songs had the fragrance of Indian soil.”

—Rajiv Vijayakar