RMIM Archive Article "3".
From the RMIM Article Archive maintained by Satish Subramanian
#
# RMIM Archives..
# Subject: And now there is silence..
#
# Posted by: ameghani@bnr.ca (Amin Meghani)
# Source: Filmfare , Feb 1994.
# Author: Gulzar
#
#
# {This article was originally posted in two parts. Both the
# parts are present in this document}
#
Hi RMIMers. I've been meaning to post this very special article
for a while but couldn't find the time. It's a loving tribute to
Pancham by one of his closest friends and colleagues: Gulzar.
They were friends during their days of struggle and associates as
well when they they made it big. Gulzar remembers their days of
laughter and music.
AND NOW THERE IS SILENCE...
by Gulzar
Part 1: THE MAN IN THE MUSICIAN
We knew each other from the moment we were hopefuls. We were
assistants--he to his father and I to Bimal Roy. When SD would
come with his compositions, his s on would come carrying a "dag-
ga". He'd be wearing shorts the way kids wear Bermud as today.
My first lyric for Sachinda was "Mora gora ang lai le". Pancham
would be there. Shailendra did the other lyrics for BANDINI. And
Pancham would encourage me--g o meet baba, go and talk to him.
He'd invite me to their apartment in the one-storey building,
'Jet', on Linking Road. Today there's a tall building over that
one-storey structure. I don't know who stays there now, Sachinda
was there till his end.
Pancham was three-four years younger than me. He was always a
kid, he remained one. He was fond of pranks, of colorful clothes
and especially of the color red. He had a nickname for me--'safed
kavva'. He'd phone, if I wasn't at home he'd leave a message,
"Tell
His sense of humor was his very own. He knew Asha Bhonsle was
very particular about keeping the house clean; so he sent her a
gift--two big brooms in bright wrapping paper.
One of his passions, besides music, was cooking. He grew chillies
in his terrac e garden--as many as 40 varieties, cross-breeding
them to get new exotic tastes. Ashaji now wonders, "Who'll look
after his plants? He's gone."
If a friend was going abroad, he'd ask him to get back some soup
packets. Like he asked Rahi Sabarwal of Air India to bring him
some soup packets which you can only find in Hong Kong...Pancham
even sent him a telegram, "Don't forge t my soup." The telegram
was signed Soup Lover.
As young men in our 20s, we shared many common interests--
interests in home-cooked food and in sports. He was a soccer
fanatic, he was a true Mohan Baganian, he'd get into heated argu-
ments with (director) Gogi Anand over socce r. Yet Gogi remained
Pancham's friend till the end.
Pancham married Jyoti. It was a love marriage, but I think it
didn't work out because they were two very different people. He
was immersed into films and music; he'd spend long hours away
from home in the recording studio of Film Centre. He was so ob-
sessed with his work that he had little time for any other love
in his life.
Pancham was a terrific mouth-organ player; he played the organ in
his father's orchestra. And he was an outstanding sarod player
too...he had trained under Ustad Ali Akbar Khan.
Pancham would have his differences with his father. But he was
Sachinda's only child, he was the pampered one. And he could get
pretty possessive about his father. They hailed from a royal fam-
ily; for them it was a matter of pride that they had carved out
their own little kingdoms with their music.
There'd be good-natured bantering between them. "Baba," Pancham
would pout, "you don't give me enough pocket money." And Sachinda
would laugh back, "Oi Pancham, when are you going to contribute
to the kitchen expenses?" Whenever the son would try to shuffle
out quietly from the music room, Sachinda would say, "Jao jao, I
know you want to smoke a cigarette."
Pancham would frequently compose his tunes in the course of car
drives. He'd hum, we'd reach Film Centre and he'd say, "OK, you
go home now, I've got the tune in my head. I'll try it out with
the musicians." If he was especially excited about a tune, he'd
scream with joy. He never kept his happiness within himself, he
shared the moments of ecstasy with others.
Pancham would keep the actor's face in mind while working on a
composition. He'd tell me that, at times, he thought of my face
while conjuring a tune--whi ch I thought was a great compliment.
{Excerpted from FILMFARE, 2/94}
==
AND NOW THERE IS SILENCE...
by Gulzar
Part 2: GULZAR,RD & ASHA: THE WINNING COMBINATION
We first worked together on PARICHAY. It was important for me to
sit with him on the music sessions. He inspired certain moments
which I picturised later, his music was that visual...I went to
Rajkamal studio where he was recording a background score for
another film. I gave him the mukhDa-- 'Musafir hun yaaro/Na ghar
he na thikaana'--and I left. That night he woke me up at 1 a.m.
and said, "Come, come down with me to the car." He'd recorded the
tune on a cassette already. He started driving through the empty
streets of Bandra, he played the beat on the dashboard. It was my
first song as a director with him.
By the time he composed 'Saare ke saare', he had shifted from
home--he was in the process of acquiring a new flat--to Caesar's
Palace Hotel. The most beautiful song in the film--'Beeti na bi-
taai raina'--was also composed in the hotel room. It was based on
a classical 'bandish'; it fetched Lata and Bhupendra National
Awards for best playback singers.
In all, we did eight films together, as a composer-director team.
Besides PARICHAY, there were: KHUSHBOO, KINARA, AANDHI, KITAAB,
NAMKEEN, LIBAAS and IJAAZAT. How did 'Tere bina zindagi se koi
shikwa to nahin' (AANDHI) come about? He was recording Bengali
songs for Durga puja around that time. The lyrics were by the re-
nowned Gauri Shanker. I liked the tune that Pancham was compos-
ing; I filled it up with Hindi words and said, "Look, I'm going
to use this for AANDHI."
As for 'Is moD pe jaate haiN, kuCH sust qadam raste', I gave him
the words from one of my poems. He composed the tune instantly.
He never took time. Spontaneity was his specialty. If he strug-
gled over a song, he would prefer to abandon it. For instance,
'Ek hi khwab kai baar yuhi dekha hai maine' (KINARA) exasperated
him. He found that metre a bit difficult, but two months later I
put it before him again. He caught the scanning, and the song was
finally recorded.
When I gave him 'Mera kuCH saamaaan tumhare paas paDa hai' (IJAA-
ZAT), he waved the lyric aside and said, "Huh, tomorrow you'll
bring me the front page of *The Times of India* and expect me to
compose a tune around it. What is this blank verse you're giving
me!" Ashaji was sitting there, she started humming the phrase,
"Mujhe lauta do." He grasped it immediately; from that one phrase
he developed the song, which was quite a feat! This time Ashaji
and I got National Awards. Poor fellow, he did all the work and
we enjoyed the 'kheer'.
Ashaji's and his was a superb creative companionship. He used the
potential in her voice to maximum effect. No other composer ever
placed Ashaji's voice above his music the way he did. We recorded
the non-film album DIL PADOSI HAI, and the variations from semi-
classical and ghazal to pop and jazz, were a valuable experience
for each one of us. There was a three-way harmony of voice, music
and lyrics.
After his heart ailment, Pancham did feel that producers were
sidelining him. He did feel hurt. He would laugh, with a touch of
bitterness, at the new music composers who copy his tunes and
make a mess of them. They would even imitate his singing style
which was unmistakably his. 'Mehbooba mehbooba' (SHOLAY) and
'Dhanno ki aankhon meiN' (KITAAB) were his creations, but others
tried to clone his style, only to sound like amateurs.
My last meeting with Pancham was on December 30 [1993]. He went
to Sahara recording studio in Goregaon. Ashaji was recording a
song for G.V. Iyer's VIVEKANANDA. Salil Chowdhry had composed the
music. Pancham and I had gone along with Ashaji. At the end of
the evening, he said in his customary manner, "Milte hain."
We never did.
{Excerpted from FILMFARE 2/94}
==========
--Amin
From the RMIM Article Archive maintained by Satish Subramanian