Desicritics Category: Culture: Music

Happy Independence Day - Musical Montages

Ritu Chandra — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 05:31:36 EDT

Happy Independence Day Folks!

(I know it is a little late, but here in the US we only celebrate on weekends, so no apologies)

I would like to celebrate the 61st 'Happy Birthday' of our nation by revisiting some musical memories from my growing up years. In the late eighties and early nineties DD had commissioned a series of 'Spirit of the nation' type montages. The most memorable amongst those was 'Mile Sur Mera Tumhara' that showcased the cultural diversity of the country through the prism of the folk and classical diversity of each region. This was Doordarshan and Lok Sewa Sanchar Parishad in it's last burst of glory, (before India began its journey towards globalization and DD towards fossilization).

For those of us who grew up in this era, these montages are unforgettable. Remember trying to figure out the exact line 'chain taras te nain tars te' (the Kashmiri portion of the song), or marveling the stunning locales of Kerela, or trying to keep up with the various languages in which Mile sur mera tumhara is sung, or getting goose pimples on seeing the final image of Lata Mangeshkar, the ultimate tribute to popular sur in our country fuse into the frame. My introduction to Bhimsen Joshi was through this montage. In those days I barely understood anything of what he sang, yet I loved to watch him, for the faraway look in his eyes, and the cute manner in which he would contort his face and hands as he sang.

I don't think anything has been able to capture the spirit of India's beauty, diversity and unity as imaginatively as Mile Sur Mera Tumhara did.

The other montage that ran in those days and I would specially like to showcase is the very unusual tribute to the spirit of the country through Raag Des. That was a collection of the who's who in the firament of Indian classical arts all performing on the Des raag. While Mile Sur Mera Tumhara has obvious appeal, this montage is a quiet charmer. Raag Des is a sweet and distinctive raag, easy on the ears, extremely malleable and exudes the fragrance of fresh sprinkles on parched earth. The essence of the raag finds it's way into songs of the every region in the country. The whole idea to integrate the country through the Des raag was a novel one. It is fascinating because the des raag probably existed before India was a nation, before we needed symbols and slogans to unite, yet even in those days there were binders in form of cultural roots and who would think amongst the innumerable raags that Hindustani and Carnatic classical music offer, it would be raag Des that would be the chosen binder. It is also the raag in which our national song 'Vande Mataram' is tuned.

Given the galaxy of classical luminaries that make an appearance in this piece, in another fifty years it will be worth it's microseconds in gold. Ravi Shankar's sitar piece particularly had left a lasting impression in the early days, when I heard it again after many years, it was even better than I remembered. I think it would have been appropriate to have had his appearance as the climactic piece. It is also fascinating to see Kavita Krishnamurthy's voice as the common thread in an effort that is essentially classical. It is a great way to gently coax the average listener into the world of classical music. It was only during the old DD stronghold that promoted folk and classical music with missionary zeal that something like this was possible. In today's 'bollywoodized' times it is next to impossible.

While we are on the topic of montages, it would be worthwhile to visit two contemporary efforts by AR Rahman - Vande Mataram and Jana Gana Mana , both conceived and presented by Bharatbala.

Watching the Jana Gana Mana video is like revisiting your ancestral town after twenty years. The same faces, but aged and tired. The same Bhimsen Joshi, the same Hariprasad Chaurasia, the same Lata Mangeshkar, but with many more lines creasing their faces. Some cherished old faces missing, notably Pandit Ravi Shankar, Ustad Allahrakha and Ustad Zakir Hussien and many new additions like Bhupen Hazarika, Hariharan, and the most pleasant surprise - Asha Bhosle. Interestingly Asha Bhosle was completely missing from all the videos of the earlier era, a sad reflection on how late in life this great singer actually got her due. Finally the nation sees the legendary Mangeshkar sisters singing together on the same platform in the same frame. And the biggest surprise, they even pause for a microsecond and smile, yes smile at each other! (A historic occasion given all those rumours over the decades that sibling rivalry prompted the sisters to sing all duets looking in opposite directions).

The new age montages highlight the sharp difference in the eras. These videos are shot like epics. They are marked by sweeping locales, jazzy camera angles, glossy finish and flamboyant, larger than life orchestration of all the elements. Quite typical of our times. Yet despite the grandeur, they somehow seem to be missing something somewhere. They are missing the feel of 'real' India that the old montages had to offer. In the videos of yore, the locales were lush and real. The prosperous fields of Punjab, the stunning Taj Mahal, the boatman on the Hooghly, the Calcutta metro, the Dal Lake these were the visual elements that made us intimate with the living and breathing India. The moonscape of Ladakh in the Jana Gana Mana video on the other hand is impersonal and forbidding. It has a stark beauty, without doubt, but that is not a representative of 'dravid, utkal, banga' that our national anthem alludes to. The visual montages used in Vande Mataram look more out of central Asia than they do out of India. The video just does not get 'it', in my opinion.

Ofcourse, the disclaimer is that I am an old fogey when it comes to aesthetics and I tend to automatically put myself in reverse gear. Older an effort the better it is. However, I must admit, that when Lata Mangeshkar starts to sing Jana Gana Mana my hair stand on the end. I am extremely thankful to YouTube and it's denizens for uploading these valuable videos and giving me a chance to revisit cherished childhood memories again. I leave you with the videos and I hope you will enjoy them as much as I did.

Jai Bharat!

CD Review: For The Rest Of Us - Telescope

Temple Stark — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 00:38:17 EDT

A lot of new music gets by on just being new - for about two or three listens. And then it fades away. The best thing about these guys, the band Telescope, compared to others, is their sincerity. Lead singer Seth Holland drives crackling sincerity through every word and the musicians emphasize the erupting emotions.

The 10-track album, For The Rest Of Us — download it free for the moment — is packed with self-described power pop. Think Candlebox, or a hugely more meaningful, less cheesy, Hootie & The Blowfish. Or a talented, cringeless Jonas Brothers.

Overall, Telescope's music is lighter melodic rock rather than the heavy side of things. I'm not sure if they amp it all up live, but if they do, the songs have the strength for different interpretations.

Their most popular tune, "Stormy Weather," brings to mind the mid-90s band, Live. The song is a very mellow, bare-boned production that naturally brings the lyrics and what's being said into focus.

From my, admittedly limited, foraging around their various online locations, "Stormy Weather" also seems to encapsulate the mindset of the band. Here's the band's philosophy, as noted on a recent blog post:

There are countless numbers of other people out there doing the exact same thing we are. Doing the best they can, maybe just scraping by, and struggling through the hardships that it takes to create, all for the sake of attempting to make the world feel something, even if only for moments at a time. Those moments are ultimately why we do what we do.

So, the Flagstaff foursome aren't spending all their time trying to be something hugely different. While "being different" is a more than admirable goal, it can have tragic consequences if that difference includes not being musically appealing whatsoever.

"Sideline Suicide" is timeless, could be from mid-70s to anytime after. Though the subject matter may not indicate it, this one's the most catchy, the most sing-along.

"Breaking Into Spring," with soaring vocals at times, is another that delivers more questions, more exploration, than answers — "Is anybody in there listening?" But music, when it seeks meaning, is about exploring and exploiting mysteries.

It, too, is hopeful.

Clearly there's a lot of emphasis and effort on lyrics; there's a desire to say something. Telescope has a big-picture vision.

I have been morally deficient in listening to new music in the last few months. Contributing factors and all that. So, when someone ups and offers their album for free, well. And when they happen to announce they're holding a free concert at a place I can easily get to, Tempe, Arizona, about 20 miles away from me, l get all juicy about freedom. The concert is Aug. 15 (Friday) at Tempe Marketplace, starting at 7 p.m.

The timing is perfect. A lot of these songs - "Look At You Now", "Shine on Me", "Trying" - it seems, would be perfect listening as the sun goes down on a hot day.

----
Band members:
Seth Holland - Vocals, guitars
Mike Seitz - Guitar, vocals, keyboards
Jason Holland - Bass
Seth Johnson - Drums

MS: myspace.com/telescopemusic

WS: telescopeband.com

Label: Skyrocket Entertainment

List : The Definitive Geeta Dutt

Ritu Chandra — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 02:57:31 EDT

20th July 2008 marked the 36th Death Anniversary of Geeta Dutt. A small tribute to the memory of this enchanting songstress.

It is difficult, almost unsettling to think of Geeta Dutt as a shriveled septuagenarian(what she would have been if she were alive). Time stopped aging her voice long before she actually passed away in 1972. Even today her voice represents a youthful joie-de-vivre that can lift anyone out of the bluest of blue moods. Her sad songs have an aching vulnerability that makes one want to weep for her and with her. And her richly-layered bhajans are strangely soothing. No other singer could traverse such a complex range of emotions with the ease and spontaneity that Geeta Dutt did. In addition to the richness in expression, her was voice was rich in tonal quality, robust and sweet quite like a juicy Dasheheri mango!

Despite all these qualities, today she is merely a memory in the history of Indian film music. Slotted early in her career as a 'club song' singer, Geeta unfortunately got stuck in the very mold that she created for herself with such blazing individuality. Couple this with her own battles with the bottle, failing marriage to film-maker Guru Dutt and a lackluster approach to her career, Geeta Dutt faded away, much before her times.

Yet, her small repertoire is dazzling to say the least. This list more than amply strengthens the belief that God sends all good things in limited editions.

Note : Click on the link to view the video of the song

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1. Tadbeer se Bigdi hui Taqdeer Banale (Film : Baazi(1951); Composer: SD Burman; Lyrics : Sahir Ludhianvi) The seductive and persuasive strains of the guitar, SD Burman's path-breaking western treatment of Sahir Ludhianvi's ghazal, Geeta Bali's energetic screen presence and Geeta Dutt's vibrant singing, the dice had no option but to roll in favour of this 'Baazi'. 'Tadbeer se Bigdi' was the greatest attraction of Baazi and the audience went to see the film in repeat mode only to witness the magic of the two Geetas.

2. Thandi Hawa Kali Ghata (Film : Mr and Mrs 55(1955); Composer: OP Nayyer; Lyrics : Majrooh Sultanpuri) Raju Bharatan, the much maligned film music critic, summed up the effect of Geeta Dutt's voice in a rare moment of clarity- "'Geeta Dutt was thandi hawa and kaali ghata rolled into one. The moment she came, you got the refreshing feeling of aa hi gayi jhoom ke. There was a rare swing in her voice. She hit you like a thunderclap"
What more can one say to recommend the freshness in this song other than to say that the effect on yours truly is without fail '....naache jiya ghoom ke' .

3. Aaj Sajan Mohe Ang Lagalo (Film : Pyaasa(1957); Composer: SD Burman; Lyrics : Sahir Ludhianvi) Guru Dutt's innovative idea of using a vaishnav bhajan to depict the purity of the romantic situation in the film, was ably supported by his wife's singing. Geeta brings a very human yearning to her rendition and yet keeps it sublime and other worldly like a true bhajan. Geeta Dutt's interpretation of bhajans was very distinctive. Whether it is 'Tora manwa kyon ghabraaye' or 'Na mein dhan chahun' or our chosen 'Aaj sajan mohe ang lagalo', she blends the sensual with the sublime seamlessly. This is true to the sufi tradition whose texts abound in erotica that couples with spiritual fervour. It can be argued that if Meerabai made a time-travel trip to the 50s and 60s she would have sung in the voice of Geeta Dutt!

4. Ankhiyan Bhool Gayi Hain Sona (Film : Goonj Uthi Shehnai(1959); Composer: Vasant Desai; Lyrics : Bharat Vyas) The classic Geeta chutzpah brims over in this duet with Lata Mangeshkar. The coy and docile heroine being teased mercilessly (or praised to the heavens) by a bunch of giggling sahelis is one the staple daal-roti situations done to death in hindi film songs. Yet, Geeta's sweet and wicked take of the situation makes this song a standout. Note the way she sings 'Sona' in the first line. This song also represents the female-female genre of songs of which Geeta has many memorable examples like Bachpan ke din, Jaanu Jaanu Ri, Thandi Thandi Hawa , under her belt.

5. Koi Chupke Se Aake (Film : Anubhav(1971); Composer: Kanu Roy; Lyrics : Kapil Kumar) The soft, romantic type of songs flowered in Geeta's melodious and expressive voice. Geeta's singing in Anubhav demonstrates how much she still had to offer even at the fag-end of her life. In the chosen song, she is soft, teasing, whimsical, romantic all at once and the ever so slight tinge of pathos in her voice highlights the enigma that was Geeta Dutt.

6. Babuji Dheere Chalna (Film : Aar Paar(1954); Composer: OP Nayyer; Lyrics : Majrooh Sultanpuri) The slow and sensual club song is Geeta's comfort zone. She could sleep-walk through those kind of songs. Yet, this one stands out for hitting all the right notes at once. The measured sensuality, a hint of vibrancy, a slight edge in the voice and a full throated bass-heavy tone all combine to make this OP Nayyer composition into a classic club song. OP Nayyer composed a slew of such songs for Geeta and later Asha Bhosle. Aayie meherban could be considered the successor to his body of work with Geeta.

7. Mera Naam Chin Chin Choo (Film : Howarah Bridge(1958); Composer: OP Nayyer; Lyrics : Qamar Jalalabadi) This irrepressible upper is arguably Geeta's signature song. The swing in her voice can get even the most languid of people out there up and jiving. It is high energy, peppy and brimming with the joie-de-vivre that is the quintessential Geeta Dutt.

8. Nanhi Kali Sone Chali (Film : Sujata(1959); Composer: SD Burman; Lyrics : Majrooh Sultanpuri) From the seductive to the soothing - the transition is as smooth as butter. The synergy of the Majrooh-SD Burman combination and the nurturing vocals of Geeta Dutt make this lullaby from Sujata as one of the most memorable loris created for Hindi films.

9. Waqt Ne Kiya (Film : Kagaz Ke Phool(1959); Composer: SD Burman; Lyrics : Kaifi Azmi)A brooding film-maker, his honey voiced wife, the beautiful actress and the inextricable mess of their liason - Life was a pre-scripted tragedy for the Dutt couple. Kagaz Ke Phool was Guru Dutt's semi-autobiographical magnum opus that immortalised his personal situation. Kaifi Azmi's lyrics are poignant, SD Burman's tune wistful, but it is Geeta's singing that stirs up the storm of emotions. The songs aches with nostalgia. The travesty of time and the indelible stain that it leaves on the soul is universal. Rare is the person who looks back at his life and does not wistfully discover.... 'hum rahe na hum' .

10. Na Jao Saiyan (Film : Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam(1962); Composer: Hemant Kumar; Lyrics : Shakeel Badayuni)
The character of Chhoti Bahu in Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam is undoubtedly one of the greatest written for mainstream Indian cinema. Meena Kumari immortalised the tragic Chhoti Bahu with a stellar performance. Anguish, devotion, desire, self-disgust, rebellion and a repressed sexuality every little facet that constituted the complex character of Chhoti Bahu comes to life in this song. When Geeta Dutt poignantly mentioned that this song represented her own emotions rather than that of the film's character, Chhoti Bahu, Meena Kumari and she all fused into the same person. This song is a fitting finale to the list.

See Also

Upperstall Profile : Geeta Dutt

Raaga : Geeta Dutt songs

Geeta Dutt : Biography

Note: This is an edited version of a longer article. The complete article along with some pictures can be found here

The Apple iPhone 3G: How Steve Jobs Fooled Me

Sakshi Juneja — Sat, 5 Jul 2008 03:45:12 EDT

Undoubtedly the iPhone is one of the sweetest inventions in recent times. Well at least in my books. And I wouldn't be wrong in stating, countless others share the same view. Released on 29th June 2007 (in the US), in matter of weeks the world was gripped in its craze. I remember constantly eyeing eBay iPhone sellers, looking for that 'one' perfect deal. The temporary trauma that came along with my iPhone package still lingers - let's just say I still have nightmares about paperweight iPhones.

All that was then, the iPhone is now old news. What is in the news however is its rejuvenated version – the iPhone 3G.

The 3G model is yet to be released (a week from now to be precise) and I know tons of folks who can't wait to get their hands on this beauty. Yours truly included, I mean after all it does fall within my "all things sexy" category.

Besides all the new features such as the two colour options (Black/White), 16 GB option, 2 megapixels camera, 3G wireless technology, GPS mapping, App store and Microsoft Exchange, the most attractive bit of all is its marketed price; $199 for 8 GB model & $299 for 16 GB model. Now when converted into Indian rupees, the amount sounds easy on the ears and the pocket.

But if you go by this report you will realize things are not always what they seem, especially good things.

The iPhone 3G will cost Rs 20,000 in India - the costliest in the world.

The iPhone 3G will be free in the UK as it's subsidised by O2, a service provider; it's 1 Euro (Rs 70) in Germany, again subsidised by T-mobile and costs US$ 199 (Rs 8,557) in the USA, thanks to AT&T. The phone costs US$ 350 (Rs 15,050) in Hong Kong, Singapore, Taiwan and the Philippines. It is not available in Dubai. [Link]

And if like me you too are thinking of purchasing this baby for a lesser price via the ever-enterprising eBay or requesting your chacha's wife's grandfather's cousin's grandson to send you US-made maal – well then, my darling, you are in for a disappointment.

US buyers will have to purchase a service contract with AT&T before leaving the store; you cannot buy it online. The phone has to be activated within 30 days or the buyer will be penalized. You cannot cancel the two-year contract with AT&T. Either a cancellation fee of 175$ (Rs 7,525) will be charged or the phone has to be returned.

And for my buddies in US of A who are jumping with joy (and mocking us poor souls back home) thinking about the dream figure; here's a news flash for ya.

(Only) if you're "upgrade eligible" (log into your AT&T account to see if you are), you'll be able to buy the new iPhone for the discounted price of $199 for the 8GB version or $299 (INR 8,584.86) for the 16GB (INR 12,898.86) model. (AT&T is somewhat vague about the eligibility criteria, although your credit history and the time remaining on your contract are factors.) You'll also have to pay an $18 "upgrade fee."

If you're not eligible for the discount, you'll have to fork over extra for an "early upgrade"-$399 for the 8GB iPhone 3G or $499 for the 16GB model. Ouch.

AT&T also says that a "no-commitment" (read: no contract) iPhone 3G will be available soon, at $599 for the 8GB version and or $699 for the 16GB handset. Pricey, but hey- no two-year contract.

Unfortunately, AT&T won't offer the new iPhone on a prepaid basis, at least not at launch. [Link]

Ha Ha Ha.

On a serious note though, personally speaking, shelling Rs. 20,000 on an officially purchased iPhone isn't much. In 2006 I had bought an unofficial Sony Ericsson W900i for 25 grand and it didn't have half the features present in the 3G iPhone. Also when you compare it to high-Nokia models currently in the market, the price of an iPhone is comparatively quite low.

So it only seems wiser to buy an official piece, the only drawback – can you wait for another 3 months?

(*Picture Source : Apple Inc)

Concert Review: In Pursuit of Manna Dey, Part 1

Ritu Chandra — Sun, 1 Jun 2008 00:55:51 EDT

EBC, our local NJ radio station announces that Manna Dey is in town for a show in August 2004. I jumped with joy. Finally a concert of singer who sings songs that I actually listen to(and more importantly has not sung any songs that I do not listen to!). I have to go.

But, there was a hitch. August 2004 was a time when my default concert companion Madhura was snowed down with ill-health and was not likely to accompany me. I needed another concert companion. Thus with a heavy heart I went in search of an alternate bakra. A daunting task, given the genre of music that appeals to me. But then yours truly is never say die, so I asked around. I got diverse reactions

"Manna Dey, Hmmmm Tere Naina Talaash Karen Right??… That's a nice song…..but no.. I don't have much of a enthu for him.", said Savita mulling over the prospect.

She sometimes appreciates vintage music, so what if it is in spurts. I have a good chance. I must give it my best shot.

Tere Naina Talash is not the only nice song from Manna Dey, he has many other "nice" songs like Aaja Sanam Madhur chandani mein and Yeh raat bheegi bheegi, I said, trying my best to sell popular fare.

I have to stop here and say that Savita's music taste underlines the word eclectic. Despite her being my 'bestest' friend for the last 15 years, it would be simpler for me to fathom the direction a New york pedestrian would take than it would be to second guess her reaction to a given song.

"Ughhh! Puhlease there is no way I am sitting through those Raj Kapoor songs Manna Dey or no Manna Dey.", she shrieked(as she often does when she is mildly annoyed or pleased). Ah.. well that one backfired. Well look at the positive side, at least she shares my allergy for Raj Kapoor. Good for the 'friend-friend' bonding part of things. That however put an end at any effort to have her savour Manna Dey in concert.

Another music lover friend Shubhu loved the initial idea. He is a Bong after all and Bongs love their 'Manna Babu'. We had all attended the Asha Bhosle show together. So he went back to his wife Alka with the proposal, soon he was back rubbing a bump caused by the belan on the head. Manna Dey certainly did not boot her hard drive. Even the wonderful time we had hearing Asha Bhosle sing 'Kambakht Ishq', 'Sharara Sharara' and other such legendary songs did not help the matter. Well, that thread closed there.

In this process of trying to procure a bakra, one thing was becoming more and more apparent - for a casual music listener Manna Dey does not seem to have much of an appeal or stature. The true irony for Manna Dey however is this.. that even in the connoisseur circuit he sort of misses the bus. He is regularly accused of being mechanical, dry and predictable. Admirers, he has many, but he has never inspired the fanaticsm that a Kishore, Rafi, Hemant or even Talat Mehmood would inspire. Music lovers like Madhura Purohit who nurse a crush for his dynamic intellectual persona and equally flamboyant voice are few and far between.

And so it had to be Madhura Purohit who would come to my rescue. One evening I casually mentioned my lack of success in finding a bakra to her. In a highly emotional flourish that one reserves for the greatest love of their life, she said she would go.

Given her health condition (it was cancer that she was battling in those days) it seemed highly improbable. The cycles of chemotherapy and the ensuing debilitating pain gave her very little breather of relative physical comfort in which she could step out. And now she had a chemo on the Thursday before the Saturday of the concert. She would be in extreme pain on Saturday. But the clarion call of Manny dear was too great for Madhura to resist. Chemo or no chemo, pain or no pain she was going.

So on a very tentative note I bought the tickets for the show with the strong possibility of Madhura backing out.

Come Saturday and Madhura called me in the morning. I received her call in great trepidation. She had not sounded well at all last night and I knew it only got worse for her as the days progressed after the chemo. I had my doubts she would make it even though she had insisted she would. However, I wanted to wholly encourage her attempts at cheerfully and valiantly trying to fight the monster of the big C so I did not dissuade her from the project. Today, to my joy she came through bright and chirpy all geared for her date with her 'chashmewala hero'. To give a background. Madhura loves all bespectacled Bengali singers from her grand-father's generation. That includes Hemant Kumar, SD Burman, Kishore Kumar and ofcourse Manna Dey (See picture above to know why).. Get the drift?

So Madhuraji landed up at my place on Saturday afternoon and in our subsequent leisurely cups of Darjeeling tea and gossip time faded into the background. When finally we did glance up at the clock it was 7:15 PM. The show was to start at 8:30 PM and it takes at least an hour to get there. Back-calculating, we had to be out of the house by 7:30 PM. Even George Bush would know that it is impossible for two women to get ready in 15 minutes . We eventually scrambled out of the house at 7:45 PM. Mind you a feat that only Manna Dey could get us to achieve. Or rather a feat that only Manna Dey would get Madhura to get me to achieve!

With our past experience with IST(Indian Stretchable Time), we were sure that there was a dim chance of the show starting at 8:30 PM sharp. Yet, self-doubt is the bane of human existence. And as we crossed the 8:30 PM time mark, it began to plague us. What if this concert had actually started on time?. We would surely miss some songs. What if Manna Dey started with my favourite Poocho na kaise maine rain bitayi? The concert would be a wash out if I missed that song. By the time it was 8:50 PM we were quadruply(her double and my double together) sure that we must have surely missed a part of the concert. Why did we let Lopchu take precedence over Manny dear? The regret was writ large in our hearts. And 'chidiya chug gayi khet' ringing somewhere in the recess of our conscience.

We finally reached the venue at 8:55 PM. I quickly drew into the parking space, clicked on the lock and hurried towards the theatre as Madhura scurried behind. As soon we entered the venue, I gave Madhura an 'I told you' look and exhaled. There was a huge crowd standing in the foyer. The function had not started. One up for Indian Stretchable Time!

Now that we had all the time, we fell back into our stately pace. We cashed our e-tickets and headed inside. A leisurely halt at the samosa kiosk, a fruitful debate over the best chutney for the occasion and two plates of samosa later we were in the hall. It took us sometime to locate our seats and settle down. In about five minutes there was a whole lot of hooting and clapping. What's the matter? It took us a moment to realise that these were those traitor kind of Indians that migrate to the US and forget their all Indian Values. You know the kind of people that flaunt their un-Indianess by actually coming on time? Yet however much their 'joota' might be 'japani', their 'dil' is after all Hindustani. And a true Hindustani cannot resist the lure of the catcall, whether in pleasure or in pain. So while we sympathised with their pain of waiting for over an hour we revelled in our cent-per-cent swadeshiness and happily tucked away at our samosas.

Another five minutes there was an announcement that we would be starting shortly. This was accompanied with a flurry of activity around the stage. Another few minutes later the curtain went up and the musicians were all on the stage tuning their instruments. One has to admit that the catcalls do have their benefits as infallible catalysts. The instant activity on stage was proof enough for that theory.

The orchestra was a minimal one with a Tabla player, dholak player, keyboard player, guitarist and an electronic drum(forgot what you call it). I liked that. Too much orchestra is distracting in my opinion.

Finally, the MC came on stage. He was a typical fellow from the northern parts of India. Dressed in a bright silk kurta worn fashionably over blue jeans, he regaled us for a while with an introduction speech and then announced Manna Dey with a flourish of great showmanship. As everyone clapped lustily, the man of the moment made a casual entry with a contrasting modesty that I have come to characterise as very Eastern(read Bengali). He wore a formal jacket and trousers along with his trademark cap. My first impression was that he looked quite well-preserved for an 84 year old. And yes, he did look what I always call him….the uncle next door. Needless to say Madhura has never agreed with that observation of mine. (Please see picture above again!)

The first thing Mannada did after getting the microphone was to very humbly apologise for the delay. The driver had lost his way and it took them 1.5 hours to reach the venue...ouch!. (Psst. I am sure the driver was a man). "I understand the importance of punctuality and I apologise on the behalf of the organisers. They are trying their best but sometimes things happen." he said with effortless humility, practicality and simplicity that can only come from someone of the old school.
That won me over there and then and I suspect it was the same with the rest of the audience. Here is an 84 year old man. He has been subjected to a tiring 1.5 hour drive through the chaos of New Jersey traffic that too just before a concert. He is not responsible in anyway for the delay, yet he thinks he owes his audience an apology. I instantly contrasted that with Asha Bhosle and Amit Kumar the two other film artists I have heard in concert(classical concerts somehow always start on time). Both made grossly late entries, kept the audience waiting for over 1.5 hours and did not think even an acknowledgement of the fact was required. The old school theory, I admit goes a little off skelter in the examples I state, for when has Asha Bhosle considered herself old school?!

Coming back to Manna Dey, after apologising for the delay, he proceeded to introduce a singer whom he described as a budding talent based in New York. He praised her greatly and asked the audience to lend her an ear. I gave a sigh of impatience. In all these concerts these side-entries are very trying on the nerves. In the Asha concert there was Megha Naidu, Sudesh Bhosle and Adnan Sami one had to endure before one got to her. In the Amit Kumar concert there was his wife and a couple of other bores. So in this case too we waited for this new artist who went by the name of Zafreen Ani to come take stage and get over with it.

The lady walked onto the stage and very diffidently asked the audience to forgive her mistakes. I suddenly felt scared for her. She looked as if she would be chomped by the audience. I hoped from inside that they would be kind to her. Then she started singing. She first sang Ek pyar ka nagma hai from the Manoj Kumar film Shor. The whole effect sounded horrible. The orchestra was screaming and drowning her out. No for once LP are not to be blamed for that (** see note below). The effect was entirely the creation on the orchestra on stage.

Then suddenly Madhura pointed to a hand on the sidelines motioning the orchestra to tone down. Guess who that hand belonged to…. Yes, Manna Dey! With the orchestra (or shall be say Manna Dey) in control, Zafreen sang Oh mere sona re next. I was pleasantly surprised. And No, RDB does not get credit for that either (*** See note again!). Zafreen had a lovely voice. A voice that reminded me of Geeta Dutt and Meena Kapoor. A husky voice that is full throated yet sweet and mellifluous. She is surely a very good singer. I hope she gets some good breaks. I enjoyed whatever she sang.

So now, all the extras, side-entries and MCs were out of the way. The stage was finally set for Manna Dey to make an appearance.

But wait... I am all done for today. All that comes in the next installment.

See you!

Notes :

** - LP - Popular Hindi film music directors Laxmikant-Pyarelal known for their love for a grand(read screeching orchestra) and creators of the song in question. This song Ek Pyar Ka Nagma Hai however is uncharecteristically minimalist and could count as one of their best efforts.

*** - RDB - Iconic music director RD Burman. Arch rival of LP (atleast in the minds of their fans), known for his 'Stylish' , 'Classy' and 'Avant-Garde' (not my words) use of the orchestra. Creator of Oh Mere Sona re, the second song Zafreen sang.

Links

More about Manna dey
Listen to Manna Dey's songs
Watch Manna Dey Live in Concert

Photos

Madhuraji and Rituji

'Simply' Timeless - 100 Years of Sachin Dev Burman

Ritu Chandra — Sat, 31 May 2008 01:48:32 EDT

This is the first article from the archives. It is on my 'favouritest' musician.. SD Burman. Burmanda has a connection with my soul. His music moves me like none others'. I have written many articles on him. Here is the first in the series.

This article was written on the occasion of SD Burman's centenary celebrations and is hosted at sdBurman.Net a website that I run along with two other wonderful people. Maajid Saab from Pakistan and Chowdhury Saab from Bangladesh

It was in the distant, hazy past of the early twentieth century. Deep in the remote hills of Tripura a little boy busy with his childhood games was lured by the wafting strains of the ektara. Soon a powerful, plaintive voice filled the air. It chanted a mesmerizing lament 'Rongila rongila rongila re, amare chadiye re bandhu koi gela re' (Oh my colourful mate, where have you left to after abandoning me here?'). The voice belonged to a wandering mendicant who sang this passionate plea in his eternal quest for the almighty. There was a deep pathos and strange magnetism in the voice and the little boy listened to it in wide-eyed wonder.

The minstrel and his song soon disappeared over the horizon and softly faded into the mists of time along with others of his ilk. But the boy stood rooted to that spot in time forever. Something had stirred deep within him. This innocuous little moment was the beginning of a new musical pilgrimage. A journey that would leave its own eternal melodies lingering in the same mists of time.

The small boy was none other the youngest son of Tripura's king-in-exile Nabadwip Chandra Dev Burman. The young prince, who would grow up to establish his own formidable musical fiefdom, went by the name of Kumar Sachindra. He later immortalized himself as the great music director SD Burman.

1st October 2006 marked the 100th birth anniversary of this musical titan from Tripura. In the year of his centenary we take a pilgrimage to SDBurmanland to pay obeisance to its evergreen inhabitants. For any Hindi film music lover the main attractions of this land are known faces, The 'Guides', 'Bandinis' and 'Pyaasas' adorn the racks of most music buffs and realms have been written on them. But there is much more to Burman Dada than this handful of celebrated works.
On this birth anniversary let's step off the main highway and explore the scenic nooks and by lanes to discover the real secret behind the Burman potion of immortality. What is it about the Burman school of music that it thrives and throbs with pulsating vitality in each new era even as it's contemporaries shrivel away?

It is not just the oft cited ability to change with time that set SD Burman apart from his contemporaries. There have been others before him and others after him who re-invented themselves with changing times. Almost every composer from the forties re-invented themselves with the advent of the Lata phenomenon. Again Dada Burman had the company of Khaiyyam who moved to the seventies with a block-buster like Kabhi Kabhi. (Infact Khaiyyam gave some great music in the eighties too). No, there is something more to it. Something that is intrinsic to the very fiber of SD Burman's music that gives it a freshness that refuses to wither away.

To fully grasp what made Sachinda's music what it was, we need to rewind back to his early life and examine the influences in his childhood and youth.

Kumar Sachin Dev Burman was born in a newly divided Bengal in the year 1906 as a scion of the royal family of Tripura. In those times the Tripura kings ruled over most of modern day Tripura and vast tracts East Bengal and Sachinda was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. His early years were idyllic times, spent in the lap of nature and steeped in the music of the countryside. The members of the royal family were not only great patrons of art but were very talented artists as well. And thus Sachinda's father, a dhrupad singer, was his first guru and gave him his rock solid base in classical music.

But it was folk music that chimed the sweetest in the young Sachin's heart. He would trudge for miles, deep into the interiors of rural Bengal, only to listen to a wandering folk singer at his temporary halt. Whenever there was an opportunity he would forego the comforts of royalty and be with the poor boatmen of the riverine areas of Bengal only so that he could wholly imbibe the spirit of their soulful ballad.. the Bhatiyali. He spent time with vaishnavs and fakirs in their abodes, smoking hookah with them and learning their songs. No one ever second guessed that they had a prince amidst them. He even befriended the helping hands in the palace to teach him their native songs. Folk music till the end remained Sachin Dev Burman's compulsive weakness.
With so many princely(and non-princely!) activities in his childhood, one would think Dada wouldn't have had time for anything else like a formal education. However, Dada not only completed his schooling but also when on to graduate with honors. A fact that he proudly displayed on his first record - a folk song 'Daake Kokil , that was credited to 'Kumar Sachindra Dev Burman, B.A'!

So while with his early life came a strong rooting to mother earth, his higher education gave him a world-view, an open mind and an ability to imbibe changes as they came his way. It was with this well-rounded base that the young prince from Tripura stepped into the rich musical world of Calcutta.

The Calcutta of the twenties and thirties was a musical haven teeming with choicest artists from all over India. Folk singers, legendary poets, classical ustaads, dance divas, pioneering film makers and path-breaking light singers all rubbed shoulders with each other. The young and impressionable Sachinda absorbed these intoxicating influences like a sponge. And for all his years after that he would visit this musical landscape time and again for inspiration.
It was in this period that Dada came to be recognized as a promising folk and light classical singer. To date he remains probably the only main-stream bollywood composer who gained fame and success in the arena of light classical and folk singing as well. While his classical songs earned him critical acclaim it was his impassioned renditions of folk songs that brought him widespread recognition. And it is these folk songs that formed the base-potion for his secret formula of immortality.

Folk music for centuries has been the voice of the man of the soil. It expresses the simple joys and sorrows that are inherent to human existence and its charm therein lies in this complete lack of pretence, and spontaneity of expression.

It was this spontaneity of the age old tradition that pervaded all of Burmanda's music. Whether it was his non-film work of the thirties like 'Hai kije kori' or film music from his autumn years like 'Piya Sang Khelo Holi', the emotions in Dada's music flowed effortlessly. His happy songs bubble with the energy and innocence of a toddler who has just chanced upon the world. This spirit that is not bound to time or space it remains universal in all ages.

The innocently naughty glint is palpable in many of Burman's songs like 'Chori Chori Meri Gali Aana Hai Bura' or 'Achcha ji mein haari' or 'Haule Haule Jiya Dole' the rare Lata beauty from 'Kaise Kahun'. This brightness and total lack of guile which is the most winsome quality of Dada's music was a legacy of his folk roots.

This innocence probably also stemmed from Dada's own childlike enthusiasm for life which remained undiminished even in his advanced years. The little boy who had stood mesmerized with the strains of 'Rongila' never died within this great composer right till his last breath. Artists who worked with him bear testimony to this fact. Kishore Kumar, his pet singer often recalled this trait fondly. If Dada ever had a tune in mind and he happened to spot Kishore anywhere within sniffing distance it was sure to be rehearsal time. At times this even meant stopping their cars right in the middle of a busy road to cause a traffic jam!

The unpredictability in Dada's nature translated to a surprise element in his music as well. There are always charmingly whimsical turns in his presentations. More so in the songs he rendered himself. This is a trait that ensures that there is never a dull moment in a SD Burman composition. But Dada's little eccentricities and childlike whims did not take away from his strong conviction in the core values of his music. This musical conviction was something that anyone who came in contact with Dada would testify by. And it was this conviction that gave him the place that he has in the annals of musical history.

What then were SD Burman's core musical values?.

The first and foremost was his strong commitment to minimalism. Dada's music at times had almost a Gandhian frugality. He used the orchestra with great economy. Each instrument had a well thought out role to play in his songs. He would not agree to even a one extra violinist or flutist in his orchestra. He would send them packing.. He was very clear on the role of the orchestra in his songs. It was a mere building block and not the whole song.

This seems to be a pretty instinctive approach. But practically many a great composer lost sight of this very simple virtue, very often. Composers probably either left more than desired to their arrangers or could not curb their own love for or talent as instrumentalists. But Dada fastidiously and often stubbornly stuck to his small orchestra theory. A lot of critics over the years have identified this as the major chink in Burmanda's otherwise impenetrable armour. His orchestra was not as richly complex as the western classic inspired Salil Chowdhury's, or as grand as Shankar Jaikishen's (though there are exceptions like 'Piya Tose Naina Laage Re' that belie this rule) or even as innovative and experimentative as son Pancham's. It usually did not stand on it's own like that of the composers mentioned above. It always remained a prop-up for the melody and nothing else.

However, let us hold no illusion that the quality of the SD Burman song suffered because of this approach. His orchestra is simple but not staid. With his meager building blocks Dada could paint myriad images. Chirping birds, gurgling streams, humming bees and the rustling breeze all find place in here. Remember the clever use of chinese blocks to create the image of women grinding grain in 'O Panchchi Pyaare', Asha's bitter-sweet upper from 'Bandini'.? Or the brilliant use of the flute in so many songs to depict so many varied moods? Particularly memorable is the delicate subdued sob of the flute in 'Piya Bina....bansiya baje na.....' from Abhimaan, Dada's award winning album. This beautiful flute piece had prompted an eminent musicologist to once comment 'SD Burman must have had a hotline to Lord Krishna himself!'

Exuberance aside, the basic point here is that despite it's minimalism Dada's orchestra was very evolved and rich in expression.

This all pervasive minimalism was not limited to his orchestration alone, it extended beyond arrangements to Dada's basic approach to melody and vocals as well. While he believed in keeping his tune simple, easy to hum and lilting, the melody and it's vocal execution also remained the centre-point of an SD Burman composition. And this was his secret potion # 2.
Burmanda's early training and successes as a singer had shaped his music philosophy very deeply. The musical landscape of the thirties Bengal was ingrained in his sub-conscious. This was the era when the accompaniment was in it's infancy and vocals were the vehicle that carried a song on their shoulders. It can be safely said that till the end SD Burman's songs were built on the bedrock of a strong melody and strong vocals. He is to have famously said once 'Give me a harmonium, a tabla and Lota(as he quaintly called the diva) and I will give you memorable songs'.

And a peek into Sachinda's repertoire over the years reveals dazzling line of classics with his favourite 'Lota' that provide ample support to this confidence. Starting from the early gems like 'Thandi Hawaayen', 'Tum na jaane' to 'Ghayal Hiraniya mein ban ban dolun', 'Jaani tum to dole' right upto the sublime 'Sandhya jo aaye' prove that Dada always used Lata's voice as his cherished centre-piece.

And this is a pattern that one sees repeating time and again with almost all the singers he worked with. Sachinda's focus was always to extract freshness in the voice quality and depth in the emotions from singer. For this he would go out of his way to pamper the singers who sang for him. If he ever found a singer struggling with a note he would change it without thought. He instinctively understood that if a singer struggled with the technical aspect of the song the expression and voice quality was bound to suffer. He was a master at pitching a singer's performance at just the right level in view of their strengths. This is why probably almost all singers have their choicest songs sung under the Burman baton. Even singers like Talat and Mukesh who sung only a handful of songs for him wind up with their most celebrated renditions being SD Burman compositions.

This quality to pamper and nourish the vocal element in his songs is the key behind the everlasting freshness in Dada's music. Human voice is after all the most primitive musical instrument and unlike any other instrument in world it is entirely the handiwork of Mother Nature. Its magnetism then can never wane. Once the freshness is trapped in a song, like Gangajal in a bottle it endures time over time. And that's what Dada precisely did. He tapped that fresh nectar from the vocal chords of his singers and enshrined it in his songs forever. This is probably why 'Kali Ghata Chhaaye' still brings the clouds rolling in and 'Gori Gori Gaon ki Gori re' sounds as dew fresh today as it did thirty years back.

The final topping in Dada's immortality potion as a composer was his strong resistance to temptation, the temptation to fall to the fads of the time. Dada always composed with an eye on posterity. His music endures over the ages because he designed it to! While his music always remained relevant to it's times it never let the prevalent styles overpower it. In the forties and fifties when classical complexity ruled roost he kept his tunes simple and lilting, in the sixties when hundred piece orchestras became the order of the day he stuck to his small ten-piece orchestra theory and in the seventies when son pancham heralded the westernized dum-maro-dum era, Dada continued to strike gold with his folk and classical inspired tunes.
Probably that is why even today a 'Saiyyan Dil Mein Aana Re' does not sound dated. It is because Dada never stamped his music with a date. It was meant to be for all times. It is timeless.

So now, to wind down, how could we then encapsulate the essence of the Burman brand of music?

It would be safe to say that the hallmarks of an SD Burman composition are simplicity, vivacity and elegance. A lilting melody accompanied by minimal orchestration, catchy motifs that highlight the otherwise austere fabric the song and frills that are kept to minimum so that the purity of thought and emotion rule the music.

While his music received a lot of acclaim Burman Dada himself missed out on most of the mainstream awards of his time(though he won the national award twice, once for his superlative rendition of 'Kahe ko Roye' in Aradhana). His most acclaimed score 'Guide' failed to get him a filmfare award a fact that hurt him somewhere.

But at the end of the day SD Burman's did not need awards to inspire him to give his best. He is once said to have commented 'Hearing my tune from the lips of a stranger is my greatest reward'. And today hundred years after he was born and over thirty years after he died there are millions of strangers who have his tunes on their lips. Burmanda continues to live through his music, and through the school of music that he gave birth to, the school that was propagated by his son and musical heir RD Burman and lives on in spirit in the music of many current day composers like Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy and Jatin Lalit and MM Kreem. This school can never die out for it celebrates the timeless of human spirit in all its glory. And in today's catch-line happy times the hundred year old spirit of Burman Dada provides us with perhaps the most enduring catch-line - Simple is Beautiful

Travel Report: Korba Street Festival - Heliopolis, Cairo

Kim — Wed, 14 May 2008 02:19:02 EDT

Last Friday was the annual Korba Street festival in Heliopolis - a residential suburb in Cairo.

Baghdad street was closed off to traffic and stalls were put up along the sidewalks. There were stalls from the Asean countries selling native food and some handicrafts.

The Indian stall just had posters urging visitors to visit India. Nothing else. :(

There were tables along the sides for families to relax and grab a bite and the main road was left free for kids to express their creativity on the road with chalk and paints.

Marriott's Bakery, Swiss Inn, Sultana Ice Cream had tables on the road and were serving food there. The Swiss Inn even had a buffet set up on the road. But the more exciting stuff to eat were the street stalls which were selling things like cotton candy,the hummus drink and beans.

I attended in the morning half and left by 1:30pm, before the crowds really started to pour in. This meant I missed out on the musical performances (by Wust el Balad among others) and the puppet show, but what I managed to catch was great anyway.

My friends tell me, there was a short parade later in the noon with flower covered floats and giant coke bottles. More of advertising than Spring flowers was a comment I heard.

What I got to see, kind of reminded me a bit of the Kala Ghoda festival in Bombay, but just a little bit. The concept is similar, but there is so much further that the Korba festival can go. Its a good start though, just to have an open air event in a residential area of Cairo.

I would definitely try to catch it again next year.

How Wikipedia Conquered my Reality Soap/TV Addiction

Kim — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 00:08:29 EDT

I was typing a comment on Uma's post A Bad Habit Called A Reality Soap and realised I had written a comment long enough to be a post :)

I realised I was watching most of the reality shows I liked because I liked seeing who would get eliminated next.

I was lucky, because most of the reality shows I watch are the American ones which come to India a couple of months after they are released in the US. So after losing a couple of hours spent unproductively watching reality shows, I realised that just checking the Wikipedia entry for that season cured me of it.

Wikipedia lets me know who got eliminated and why and who won & thats it, no longer any compulsion to watch the show. Thats because my trigger to watch most of them was the suspense and surprise.

With my location change and different seasons playing in different countries on different channels, I was getting confused with sequence of events on serials like Lost, Prison Break, Desperate Housewives. Wikipediaalso helped me catch up on all the seasons of Lost with 3 hours of reading. Same for the other serials too.

Of course there are the shows like So you think you can dance? which I watch for the performances but I'm not too interested in the results show the next day because I know I will figure out next week who has been dropped anyway.

I used to be a huge fan of American Idol till Constantine, Latoya, Jennifer Hudson, Melinda, Daughtry consecutively kept getting out way before their time while lesser performers were still kept on. I just stopped watching each season when my favorites got out because I no longer felt it was worth watching. Proof of the flawed voting system is that only 2 of the winners of this show in its 6 seasons - Kelly Clarkson (Season 1)and Carrie Underwood (Season 4) - have received commercial success while many of the finalists who were dropped on the side have had a better success rate. Season 7 which is currently on does not have a single finalist who seemed interesting enough for me to follow the series and Simon is now more obtuse than brilliant, so I just watch it intermittently.

With Rockstar INXS and Supernova, I had slightly better luck. My favorites made it to the final 3 each season although they lost out to the person I least liked from the entire bunch both times. While I have reconsidered my opinion on J D Fortune, I still think Dilana was the best of the second bunch.

I used to love The Amazing Race till it started blurring the lines with Fear Factor. When competitors on The Amazing Race had to start eating weird stuff it grossed me out too much to follow it.

Each of my favorite reality shows/contests gave me its own reason to stop me from being addicted and obsessing about watching it on time every week. The downside is that I seem to have replaced it with an addiction to Wikipedia.

A Visit to Karachi's Red Light Area

Rumana Husain — Sun, 9 Mar 2008 11:44:56 EDT

Karachi has been called the ‘city of lights.’ One imagines that it flaunts this title on its breast for perhaps its well-lit boulevards, streets and alleys or its obvious wealth of the wealthy. At another level, despite its statistics for robberies, car thefts, homicides, suicides, guns, poverty, illiterates and myriad other problems, the title is given because of the phantom of a grand, spirited, wholesome experience of living that it offers.

Perhaps like any other city globally, the city of Karachi has its own special zone that houses the ‘red light area’ which has thrived on Napier Road even before this country was born. Unlike the Hira Mandi, which was the residence of the courtesans and the prostitutes of Moghul Lahore, Karachi’s Napier Road has never had the airs of a seat of culture. Hira Mandi continues to exist as the country’s most well-known prostitutes’ quarter. Napier Road is just one of its many counterparts. But perhaps what distinguishes these mohallas – from Lucknow to Lahore – from the rest of the world, are the singing and dancing girls. They not only provide enticement, but also entertainment and diversion to their male clients.

The days of the courtesans of yore have long passed. Both the physical grandeur of the Lucknow quarters of Hadi Ruswa’s Umrao Jan Ada, and the art and craft of the courtesans; gentle manners, etiquette and appreciation of the fine arts of poetry, music and dance, exist no more. Nevertheless, it is important to remember that both Hira Mandi and Napier Road have provided the Pakistan film industry with several luminaries.

For this story one had to go through an extensive rigmarole of connections, backings-out, denials, temper outbursts, dead-ends as well as congenial but cagey meetings.

It was obvious right from the onset that this was no simple assignment. A ‘link’ to Napier Road had to be found as one could not just end up at some tawaif’s doorstep and expect her to narrate her story. True, one was filled with trepidation by this visit to the mohalla which no princes and nobles ever visited in search of learning etiquette and the arts, but which nevertheless creates curiosity and concern.

The rendezvous with an ‘insider’ is set for 4.00 p.m. “This is the stretch between the Nigar and Kumar cinema houses, and I will be waiting for you in front of a medical store,” he confirms on the phone. I hope that the man would be true to his word and this is no chicanery. For moral support, I take along a close friend.

On arrival at the agreed spot, our own apprehensions and the reactions of the inhabitants interlock like the teeth of a good zip-fastener. Despite a hot afternoon, the street is not as deserted as one expects it to be. Shops located in old and shabby buildings along the street, are selling food, medicines, cloth, hardware, and much more.

Two men are waiting for us. As we slow down, they walk along the car directing where it should be parked. On seeing us stop, a few children tag behind them. Our ‘link,’ (let us call him Adam – as a verbal undertaking to use only fictitious names is given during this meeting) speaks into his mobile phone. Moments later, we see a middle-aged woman emerging from the shadows of a building. She has a mobile phone too. Our small group of men, women and children stand near the car. We exchange pleasantries, and then follow the two men into a building. The children are gruffly shooed away by the woman who is following us.

Ascending the stairs, zigzagging over piles of garbage and several four-pawed felines rummaging through them, we enter a flat on the third floor.

We are greeted by two women: Seher is in her thirties; with olive skin and a pleasant demeanor, and the other, Maroofa; elderly, thick skinned and silver haired. The younger woman has stars in her eyes while the ‘mother’ has greyness.

No statues, pictures, divans, rugs, easy-chairs, books, and bric-a-brac appear where one could dream his life away. Instead, the outer room has an old linoleum floor with gao takias lined up against the wall. In one corner lie a harmonium, a pair of tabla and ghungroo. The inner room, where we are led to be seated, is a tiny and stuffy room with a sofa and a bed. No other furniture or décor is visible. This is surely a poor woman’s burrow.

Facing us, the two men sit on the bed, while the two hostesses sit on the floor. The woman, who had appeared on the street, walks in just then. All four of them stand up to greet her. “This is Sajida Apa,” Adam bows his head in deference while the burly and breathless woman makes herself comfortable on the bed.

“Do you know that this entire place was closed for four years and five months?” Adam asks us and then continues, “It is only due to Sajida Apa’s personal and endless efforts, and her sacrifice of lakhs of rupees, that the place has reopened just two months ago.” For the rest of the time that we spend there, this is oft repeated by each person we meet. All of them seem to revere her.

Apparently, the local police had clamped down the activities of the two-hundred or so flats of this mohalla. It was only after a lot of perseverance, moving applications and files from this place to that place and ultimately to the High Court, that the Motesib-e-Aala has now legally notified that the area may function as before.

Adam, the spokesman, who is hijacking almost all the questions that we direct to the women, says the reason for the clamp is not clear. “These women are simply artists who sing and dance to entertain. The bazaar is shut during the month of Ramazan, the ten days of mourning during Moharram, on Eid-e-Milad and even on Kashmir Day,” he clarifies. He then goes on to explain the contribution of “this University of the stars, where talent gets nurtured.” He asks if we know of any institutions for music and dance from which the radio, film and television industries could be benefited. He was proud that this place had one registered “Anjuman-e-Musiqaraan” and one unregistered “Anjuman-e-Fankaraan-e- Musiqi” – associations for musicians.

I turn to ask Maroofa if Seher is her only daughter, and request Adam to let the two speak. Maroofa says she has sons who have got married and live on their own. The mother and daughter are left to fend for themselves. Maroofa is quite clearly a Pathan.

“What about you, Seher, don’t you want to get married?” My friend asks. Seher says she has a seventeen-year old son who lives with her. She did get ‘married,’ but returned to her mother as her ‘husband’ refused to take care of the mother as well. “Who will look after my mother? I had to leave my husband and come back.”

I question if the marriages of these women do work out, if at all. Seher says there are very few girls who have gone away leading happily married lives. Most of them come back. On inquiring what her son does, she says he has just completed class ten. “Do his friends at school know where he lives?” It seems rather cruel asking such questions outright, but there is no choice. Seher says “no,” it’s a secret. So is her own secret: she sings at a prestigious restaurant in the evenings and the management has no clue that she comes from the infamous Napier Road. “We will certainly come to hear you there,” I say, and Seher’s face changes colour. “Please don’t tell ‘them’ where I live,” she pleads.

A young boy of eighteen or nineteen has been sitting in the doorway listening to our conversation. He is sent out to fetch soft-drinks for us, which he zealously does. “Who is he?” we ask. Adam says he is a very good tabla player. Adam and his friend Nawaz are also musicians. They say many girls in the area practice singing and dancing with them. We hope to watch these sessions, referred by them as ‘tuitions,’ but learn that Fridays are off days. “Come on any other day except for a Friday, between 3.00 to 5.00 p.m. and you can catch them busy with their tuitions,” Adam informs. He says he had forgotten this fact when we set up the appointment.

Sajida Apa informs us that there are now just about twenty-five flats in the area carrying on with this business. She goes on to comment that by shutting down these quarters for such a long period, the government has only helped the girls to spread in other ‘respectable’ areas of the city. The heydays of Napier Road, it seems, are over. Just then a woman, perhaps in her late twenties, pays a visit. Sans a dopatta, showing plenty of skin and jewellery too, we get introduced. She is a neighbour. She has just moved to Karachi from Lahore. “How come, isn’t Lahore a better place for business than Karachi?” But her reply is in riddles. She soon makes an excuse and exits. The others just shrug their shoulders. Apparently, we are nosier than they are.

Several decades ago, the first blow to this business was severely felt when the Karachi film industry went bust. Some of the much sought after girls from these quarters who got modelling assignments for the print and electronic media, had moved on to become film actors. Bag and baggage in tow, these girls then shifted to Lahore. The exodus of the girls, their relatives, and hangers-on has left a big howling lacuna which wraps these quarters in webs of glorious nostalgia. As times changed, social taboos against modelling, singing, acting and dancing also dwindled. Educated young men and women from respectable families chose performing arts as careers.

We are inside the “Husn-e-Noor” building. Opposite it stands “Shamshad Manzil,” which has a ramshackle look about it. We are told that one of the most dazzling stars of the film industry used to live on the second floor there. The smile that launched a washing powder commercial, before it launched a thousand ships, was ruling the industry for almost two decades. The dilapidated look of the balcony where she must have once stood – broken windows, a rag for a curtain and junk furniture lying in it – is ample evidence of how those who have made it big never return. Plastic, glass and leatherworks’ small industries have been set up in many a building that once belonged to the ‘courtesans.’ The most famous building of its times, called “Bulbul Hazaar Dastaan,” has been abandoned now. “Sangeet Mahal,” “Fankar Mahal,” “Jamila Shakila Building” are some of the other well-known blocks of flats where business is not as usual. Shamim Ara, Zeba, and Babra moved on many years ago to become superstars, and Salomi, Asiya, Najma and Panna are also remembered for their stellar performances in films.

“Can we come back in the evening to hear the girls sing and watch their dances?” I ask Adam. We are assured that we can do that, but perhaps in the company of our husbands. Apparently, every evening, from 10.00 p.m. until midnight, the doors of all the flats remain open. Those who tread up the stairs can decide which smile is more bewitching, which beckoning more trapping. They make their choice and enter.

“Yahan dhoka faraib koee nahi,” Adam says rather conclusively.

“People come of their own will and pay anything between Rs. 200 to Rs. 20,000 for a performance. We neither fix any rates nor do we turn any one out.” Sajida Apa adds authoritatively. “And this is not to speak of the drunks, neurotics, and pure creeps who sometimes might appear to preponderate among the other, more easygoing clients?” We ask as we part with Maroofa and Seher. Adam points out at a sticker on the wall that warns in Urdu that consumption of liquor is not allowed in the premises.

Making our way down the stairs in a similar fashion as we had come up, my friend and I hassle Adam and Nawaz, as meeting just three or four of the inmates of these quarters do not seem satisfactory for the job at hand. “Come back again, come any afternoon but on Friday, come back at night to witness the nightlife here. All the eating places on Napier Road remain open until dawn,” he two men make excuses that they cannot take us to other flats as the girls are either sleeping or have gone out shopping. When we reach the street level, we run into two girls entering the building.

Despite their black gown and head scarf, their good looks are obvious and they are made up to the hilt. The girls are carrying mobile phones and shopping bags. They are ‘cousins’ Zahida and Nadira. We trudge up again to speak to them in their own flat. The place appears even poorer than the previous one. Zahida’s ‘mother’ does not resemble her one bit.

There is something vulnerable and pathetic about the girls. They spin us the tale they have memorized. This is good life; singing and dancing until midnight, watching video films or television all night, sleeping during the day and then the tuition in the afternoons. Life goes on. Who needs to have skills of any other kind?

Music Review: U Me Aur Hum

Amrita Rajan — Tue, 4 Mar 2008 04:53:08 EST

If you'd asked me to guess, I wouldn't have picked U Me Aur Hum for Ajay Devgan's directorial venture. The odd Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam apart, Devgan's real success lies in movies where he's been able to portray angst ridden characters with something to prove. With U Me Aur Hum, he's either hoping for a safe bet at the box office or wants to try his hand at something different (for him). Written by Robin Bhatt, Sutanu Gupta and Devgan himself, according to the syrupy synopsis it is:

A love story, that begins at sea. Ajay is on a cruise with his friends Nikhil and Reena, unhappily married, and Vicky and Natasha, happily unmarried. Ajay is having a wonderful time dealing with martial strife, lots of bad language and huge hangovers, when he finds Pia, and time stands still.

So they battle all odds, and dance, and sometimes they fall. But every time they fall, they fall in love. And that's what a successful marriage requires. Falling in love many times, always with the same person.

This is the special love story of Ajay and Pia. There may be no monuments dedicated to them and perhaps their names will soon be forgotten. But in one respect they succeed as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: They've loved each other with all their heart and soul; and in life and marriage, this has always been enough.

Hmm. Personally, with a set up like that, the only thing that makes me in the slightest bit interested in this movie is the fact that it stars Kajol and has music by Vishal Bhardwaj. And while Kajol has let me down from time to time (hey there, Raju Chacha), Bhardwaj has always been awesome. Will the U Me Aur Hum album, with lyrics by Munna Dhiman, be his Waterloo? Let's see:

Jee Le - This is why I love Vishal Bhardwaj: even when he churns out a ho hum song, he does it with more class than just about anybody else. If you’re a fan of Latin rhythms (and it’s hard not to be) then this is a very pleasant song. The obligatory amore, baila and te quiero stuff manages not to grate the way others of this ilk so often do. Of course, I don’t speak Spanish so maybe people who actually understand the lyrics might disagree. I can only hope they're better than the Hindi ones penned, which are strictly pedestrian. Shreya Ghoshal and Adnan Sami croon their way affably through it and it all pretty much sounds like a cruise ship band putting on a good performance. I don’t know if that’s what Bhardwaj and Co. were going for, but that’s what it is.

U Me Aur Hum (Part I) - Remember how Shreya Ghoshal was so absolutely lovely and perfect in Jism? Now imagine her being almost lovely and perfect. That’s what this song is. Again, it’s not godawful or hurting my teeth but five minutes from now I wouldn’t remember a thing about it. Actually, no, I lie - I’d remember that little hip-hop-in-the-land-of-boyband riff (”Love gives you the power / to open up and flower / covering every hour with its refrain”) that comes up now and again. The male singer is uncredited and he ought to thank his stars for small mercies. Dhiman wades in rather late to try and save the day by injecting a little meaning into the song, but it's no go.

Saiyaan - You lost me at first line: “But I asked for a lover who’d be like a girlfriend,” Sunidhi Chauhan complains. So Kajol’s a lesbian then? The rest of the song is about how she finds her hubby such a mystery - he likes to watch TV, doesn’t pay her much attention, is a workaholic, not a morning person, kind of chubby, (”like a haveli“)… I’m sorry, what’s the mystery here? Adding to the confusion, the song stopped all of a sudden, like they’d just given it up as a bad job. Sunidhi really needs to pay attention to the crap she’s being fed these days if she wants to keep her A-list career.

Phatte - I have no idea what this horror is but it has Adnan Sami battling a severe case of constipation and it makes Sunidhi Chauhan angry. I don’t blame her. Its stated ambition is to make all the “the birds like parrots fly”. I decided to join them in their escape. Tell me when it’s safe to come back.

Dil Dhakda Hai - Oh goody, Adnan Sami’s back to mumble some more. If this is what gastric bypass surgery does to your vocal chords, then it’s time to bring back the fat. This time around he keeps Shreya Ghoshal company. And she sounds terrified as she well should, singing a song about under-seasoned food. Or maybe it’s about oral sex. Or cannibalism. Or something. If I could get over the crappy beats I’d know more. Except, do I really want to find out more about stuff like this:

Tu hai meri shayri
Chori ki hai Dairy
Sher tagde tadge hai
Chidiya Ghar se pakde hai

Translation:

You are my poetry
From a stolen diary
But the lines are solid
And caught from the zoo

Ooh, the last two lines are really clever, see? Because sher means verse as well as lion and you can see lions in the zoo... By the time the half-hearted rap shows up, I really don’t give a shit. It’s like kicking someone with a head injury - I can’t even feel it.

U Me Aur Hum (Part II) - Just when I’m wondering when this torture will end, Vishal Bhardwaj breaks out his guitar and sings this song. Suddenly, all those hokey words make sense and the world is lovely again. What the hell just happened?

I have no clue. But I can only hope the movie will be better. Just so it’s, you know, watchable. My eyes are on you, Kajol. Also I’m really happy the internet exists so I could listen online and didn’t have to pay for this crap. The End.