RMIM Archive Article "369".
From the RMIM Article Archive maintained by Satish Subramanian
#
# RMIM Archives..
# Subject: Talat - Singer with a golden voice
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# Source: The Hindu, May 15 98
# Author: Girija Rajendran
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Singer with a golden voice
With the passing away of Talat Mahmood, a whole generation
of Hindustani cine sangeet has now become history. GIRIJA
RAJENDRAN pays a tribute to the ghazal icon.
How times have changed and, with them, tunes. The music we
hear today bears not the remotest resemblance to the songs
falling so softly, on our ears, from the golden era of
Hindustani cine sangeet. And a performer who fell
extra-softly, extra-sweetly on our ears was Talat Mahmood
who, in keeping with his temperament, passed away, quietly,
on May 9, at the age of 74.
Famed ghazal exponent Jagjit Singh, inheritor of this
crooner's legacy, to this day believes that there has been
none to rival Talat Mahmood. He argues that ``Talat Mahmood
is the ghazal original'' and that all who followed,
including himself, were inspired by his style and idiom.
To think that the pantheon of singers, on the male side, is
all but no more as far as Hindustani cinema goes. First to
pass was Mukesh; then we lost Mohammed Rafi; followed by
Kishore Kumar and Hemant Kumar; and now Talat Mahmood. Only
Manna Dey, the first to enter the field and the oldest of
our legendary male playback performers in his 80th year,
survives.
Indeed, a whole tradition died with Talat Mahmood. The
ghazal never was the same, in Indian cinema, since Talat
Mahmood lost ground. Progressively, his golden voice
became, on the silver screen, a misty memory. But not for
his millions of admirers for whom his voice lived on through
those never-never nuggets of his. To that generation,
ghazal is Talat and Talat is ghazal.
Anil Biswas' `Tera Khayal Dil Se Mitaya Naheen Aabhi'
(`Doraha'), Naushad's `Husn waalon ko na dil do yeh mita
dete hai' (`Babul'), C. Ramachandra's `Mohabbat hi na jo
samjhe' (`Parchhain'), Sajjad's `Yeh hawa yeh raat yeh
chaandni' (`Sangdil'), S. D. Burman's `Bharan teri wafaaon
ka' (`Armaan'), Roshan's `Kisi soorat lagi dil ki behal
jaaye' (`Naubahar'), Madan Mohan's `Main paagal mera manwa
paagal' (`Ashiana'), Shanker-Jaikishan's `Hain sub se madhur
woh geet jinhen' (`Patita'), Salil Chowdhury's `Aansoo
samajh ke kyun mujhe' (`Chhaya'), Ghulam Mohammed's `Zindagi
dene waale sun' (`Dil-e-Nadan'), Jaidev's `Teri zulfon se
pyaar kaun kare' (`Joru Ka Bhai'), Khayyam's `Shaam-e-gham
ki kasam' (`Footpath'), O. P. Nayyar's `Pyaar Par bus to
naheen hai mera lekin phir bhi' (`Sone Ki Chidiya') and
Ravi's `Sub kuchch loota ke hosh mein aaye to kya kiya' (`Ek
Saal') - these Talat gems linger, now and forever, in the
mindset. Why, even Sardar Malik you identify through a
sentimental Talat offering like `Tere dar pe aaya hoon
fariyaad le kar' (`Laila Majnu'). The scene today belongs
to Sardar's son Anu Malik. But then Hindustani cinema was
just not Talat's scene after 1965. Well- bred voices were
losing out by then.
Madan Mohan, as the ghazal king, made a brave attempt to
resurrect Talat Mahmood through `Jahanara' (1964), through
such well-remembered solos as `Main teri nazar ka suroor
hoon', `Teri aankh ke aansoo pee jaao' and `Phir wohi shaam
wohi gham wohi tanhaaii hai'. Madan Mohan had been hooked on
to Talat over since this satin voice did the trick for him
with `Meri yaad mein tum na aansoo bahana' (`Madhosh') in
1951. And Talat, for his part, rated Madan Mohan's `Bereham
aasman meri manzil bata hai kahaan' (`Bahana') and `Yaad jab
aaye teri apnee guzari zindagi' (`Mohar') as his two best
ever ghazals in cinema. Talat had no ready counter as to
why he should have preferred those two ghazals over the same
Madan Mohan's `Hum se aaya na gaya' (`Dekh Kabira Roya') and
`Do din ki mohabbat mein hum ne' (`Chhote Babu').
Talat Mahmood was something extra special for Madan
Mohan. But then Talat's voice was something special for
almost all composers of that ambient era. Mention the
humblest of music directors and he has come out with at
least one stand-out ghazal in Talat's voice. Composers
Babul, for instance, with `Jab chhaye kabhi saawan ki ghata'
(`Reshmi Roomal') and N. Dutta with `Ashkon mein jo paaya
hai' (`Chandi Ki Deewar').
Yet to pinpoint Talat's ghazals in films alone would be to
overlook his oeuvre, as a super performer, in the richer
realm outside cinema - of private ghazals. The effect Talat
left here is peerless in a strain of `Ghazal ke saaz uthaao
badi udaas hai raat' and `Jahaan mein koyi naheen hai apna
har ek ko khoob aajmaaya'. But the scope for expanding this
more `lyrical' sphere (his `private' ghazal contribution)
was lost, once our film music turned shockingly hybrid
towards the end of the Fifties/ early Sixties. As the glossy
ghazal wave of the Eighties divested this song form of what
little subtlety it had left, Talat spoke up, demanding to
know:
``Why, may I ask, this stress, in the ghazal today, on
`saaqi' and `sharaab' all the time to the virtual exclusion
of finer feelings? Is there no place, any longer, for the
gentle caressing style of ghazal I made famous in the shape
of `Nigahon ko chura kar rah gayi rah gayi hai'; or
`Gham-e-zindagi ka yaarab na mila koyi kinaraa'; or `Dil ki
duniya basa gaya hai kaun'? Why only ghazals, recall the
impact I made with geets like `Mera pyaar mujhe lauta do',
`Tasveer teri dil mera behla no sakegi', `Ro ro beeta jeevan
saara' and `Kya itna bhi adhikaar naheen'? And I
compressed, remember, each one of these ghazals and geets
into the bare three minutes permitted by a 78 rpm
record. Today, we have LPs and cassettes and all that
technology by which a singer can spread himself out. But to
what poetic end?''
Truly was poetry integral to the music that Talat Mahmood
made. And it was this intrinsic poetic content in his
vocalising that elevated a mere film song, in his crooning
custody, to a near art form. Validly did Talat point out to
me:
``At one time, I was singing for such divergent heroes as
Dilip Kumar, Raj Kapoor and Dev Anand, on the one hand,
Bharat Bhooshan, Shammi Kapoor and Ajit, on the other. Yet I
always insisted on a certain standard of poetry in the music
they created for me, no matter what the budget of the
film. In fact, it was to give nuanced expression to such
poetry that music directors sought me out. When `Mirza
Ghalib' came to be made by Sohrab Modi it went without
saying that I was going to sing the theme for Ghulam
Mohammed - viz `Phir mujha deedaitar yaad aaya' `Ishq mujh
ko na sahi wahshat ki sahi' and `Dil-e-naadaan tujhe hua kya
hai'.''
If Talat alone was needed for such songs, why did music
directors stop sending for him? Was it because he tried to
turn `singing star' - in the manner of K. L. Saigal - with
`Dil-e-Nadan' (1953), `Waris', `Ek Gaaon Ki Kahani', `Lala
Rukh' and `Sone Ki Chidiya'? Talat promptly agreed that he
lost his slot, as the No. 1 playback performer, because
music directors mistakenly thought that he was more
interested in being a hero than a singer.
``I wasn't really involved in acting as such,'' explained
Talat. ``True, playing the leading man in some nine films
did bring in more money than I earned as a playback
singer. But then I had made it clear to every single music
director, who mattered, that I was first a singer, then an
actor. Yet they seemed already to have made up their minds
about not bothering to give me a hearing. Remember, from the
outset, our music directors had approached me, not I
them. They would ring me each time the song had a very
special romantic flavour, particularly if it happened to be
a ghazal. For numbers like `Hum dard ke maaron ka' on Dilip
Kumar in `Daag'; for `Main dil hoon ek armaan bhara' on Raj
Kapoor in `Anhonee'; for `Jaayen to jaayen kahaan' on Dev
Anand in `Taxi Driver,' Shanker-Jaikishan, Roshan and
S. D. Burman instinctively decided that the voice had to be
mine and mine alone. So now, when they suddenly stopped
ringing me for even such `specialist' mood numbers, I just
didn't know what to do.''
``Maybe my aristocratic background came in the way of making
the first move! Thus, as I failed to take off as a hero, I
also lost my ranking of being the first choice of our music
directors for ghazals. I played for high stakes and
lost. There is no regret, no rancour. For, even after I
ceased to be a hero, each time I was called upon to perform
as a playback, I measured up. Even as late as in the case of
Bimal Roy's `Sujata', when it was with some hesitation that
S. D. Burman summoned me for that `Jalte hain jiske liye'
ghazal so well written by Majrooh Sultanpuri, I put
everything I had into it. I all but won the Filmfare Best
Singer award for the rendition. Yet they had no sustained
use for me after that. Romance was becoming more `direct' in
our cinema.''
The eternal romantic was Talat. Just think of the spell he
cast through those duets with Lata Mangeshkar: Anil Biswas
`Seene mein sulagte hain armaan' (`Tarana'), C.
Ramchandra's `Mohabbat mein aese zamane bhi aaye'
(`Sagaai'), Roshan's `Dil-e-beqaraar so jaa' (`Raagran'),
Madan Mohan's `Teri Chamakti aankhon ke aagey' (`Chhote
Babu'), S. D. Burman's `Tere saath chal rahen hain'
(`Angarey'), Salil Chowdhury's `Dil deewaana dil mastaana
maane na' (`Awaaz') and Khayyam's `Raaz seene mein mohabbat
ka chhipaye rakhna' (`Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke').
Truly was Talat Mahmood's a charismatic voice. Nurtured in
the lap of the ghazal culture in Lucknow and exposed, in his
salad years, to the artistic atmosphere of Calcutta and New
Theatres, Talat Mahmood came to Hindustani cinema with the
essence of music and poetry in his highly literary
persona. With his impeccable Urdu diction and classy Bengal
base (he spoke that language fluently), Talat Mahmood went
on to achieve the stature of a ghazal icon for whom poets
and music directors alike were eager to compose. They knew
his lips had this gift of further refining their
composition. Any wonder all other singers insisted on
performing before Talat Mahmood at a `mehfil'? They knew
the `mehfil' would want to hear none other once Talat cast
his vocal sway.
From the RMIM Article Archive maintained by Satish Subramanian