Today, everyone has gathered in the studio for the rehearsal of a solo dance number that will be filmed on the heroine. She is merely 13 years of age.

The hero and the assistant director are brothers, and sons of the filmmaker. They behold their father in tremendous respect, bordering on fear. They are also in the studio today. When the filmmaker arrives, they stand up, and make way for him to take his seat in the music room, along with the composers, behind the mixing equipment.

During a break in the rehearsals, the assistant director, AD as that profession is called, shares a story from his past, of the important lesson he had been taught by the illustrious father. He points to the violinist.

“Aapko to yaad hoga yeh kissa”. You must remember this incident. The AD says to the violinist.

A similar music recording was going on. The assistant director, then a young man who just accompanied his father to sets and studios, was also there. After the recording got over, the young man had gone and sat in the car, waiting for his father to come, so that they could head home.

After some time, the filmmaker and the violinist had come out towards the car. Upon seeing the son seated comfortably in the car, the filmmaker had reminded the young man who he was, reminded him who the violinist with him was, and had told him,

“Aap gadi se utariye. Aage bus stop hai vahan se Chembur ki bus milti hai. Aap bus se ghar aayenge. Jab is gadi mein baithne ki haisiyat ho jay tab baithenge.” You will get out of the car. Just ahead is a bus stop from where you can get a bus going to Chembur. You will get on that bus and come home. When you earn the right to sit in this car, then you will sit.

The break ends. Rehearsals resume. It is a song in Raag Bhairavi. The 100-piece orchestra is bringing the song together. The composers love their musicians, but they are exacting in their demands. An instrument that comes in a little late or a little early earns a stern look from the composers towards the musician. Just a look. No words. The musician would already know he had made a mistake. But the look made it worse.

After a couple of hours, they take another break. The musicians keep their instruments aside and gather around the brothers, the hero and AD. The hero starts narrating something from his childhood. He points to the violinist again.

“Yeh kahani bhi aap ko yaad hogi.” You must remember this story as well.

“Us din Chembur mein ghar par sitting thi. Sahab upar baithe hain, aankhein band kar ke dhun sun rahe hain. Shankar Jaikishan hain, Shailendra hain, sab baithe hain. Mein kamre mein aa gaya aur gaddi par sab ke aage baith gaya.” That day the sitting was in Chembur. Sir is sitting with his eyes closed and listening to the tunes. Shankar Jaikishan are there, Shailendra is there, everyone is there. I entered the room and sat on the mattress in front of everyone.

The hero is a good storyteller.

“Sahab ne aankhein kholi aur haath uthaya. Sab ruk gaye. Mujhe bole - Mein Raj Kapoor hun, yeh Shankar hain, yeh Jaikishan hain, yeh Shailendra hain. Aapki abhi haisiyat nahin hai yahan baithne ki. Aap yahan se uthenge aur darwaaze ke paas baithenge.” Sir opened his eyes and raised his hand. Everyone stopped. He said to me - I am Raj Kapoor, this is Shankar, this is Jaikishan, this is Shaliendra. You are not deserving as yet of sitting here. You will get up and go sit near the door.

Everyone is in awe just hearing these stories of the filmmaker being a strict disciplinarian towards his children.

The break ends. Rehearsals resume. Another couple of hours go by. It is now 8pm. It has been a long day.

The filmmaker suddenly turns towards the composers. He asks:

“Arre bhai, violin kaun baja raha hai?” Who is playing the violin?

The composers beckon the violinist. The violinist bows in his waist slightly as he meets the filmmaker, saying:

“Sahab, mein baja raha hoon.” Sir, it is me playing the violin.

“Zara bajaiye,” the filmmaker requests. Please play it.

There is a solo violin piece towards the end of the song. The violinist plays it emphatically with the same gusto as he has been playing it in the rehearsals.

The filmmaker listens to it with closed eyes. When the violinist stops, he opens his eyes, and says to the violinist.

“Mere picture ki heroine Hema Malini ya Rekha nahin hai. Agar Hema Malini ya Rekha hoti to yeh piece bahot kamaal ka lagta.” My film’s heroine is neither Hema Malini nor Rekha. If it was Hema Malini or Rekha, then this piece would be wonderful.

The filmmaker continues.

“Lekin mere picture ki heroine ek teraa saal ki bachhi hai. Abhi kamsin hai. Umar mein aayi hai. To uske thumke bahot chhote lagenge. Is piece ko aap kaise baja sakte hain?” But my film’s heroine is a thirteen year old child. She is still very young. She has come of age. So her dance moves will appear quite small and delicate. How would you play this piece?

The violinist decides to play the piece very simply and delicately.

The filmmaker likes it immensely, “Wah, yeh meri zaroorat hai.” Very nice. This is what I need.

He continues, “Aapko kya aata hai woh mujhe nahin chahiye. Mere gaane ko kya chahiye woh aap is waqt mujhe de rahe hain.” I don’t want everything that you know. What you are giving me just now is what my song needs.

The violinist is dumbfounded. After an entire day of rehearsals, at 8pm, this man calls a musician aside because he cares deeply about how a 13 second solo piece sounds? Now he has a story of his own to tell the brothers.

Raj Kapoor produced and directed Prem Rog (1982), starring a 13-year old Padmini Kolhapure in the lead role, along with Rishi Kapoor. Rajiv Kapoor was the AD, and he also performed as Rishi Kapoor’s body double in some scenes.

The song Yeh Galiyan Yeh Chaubara and the music of the film are composed by Laxmikant Pyarelal, with lyrics by Santosh Anand, and playback by Lata Mangeshkar.

Amar Haldipur played the violin solo that comes at 4:35 to 4:48 in the song, which you can see in this YouTube video. He also played the violin solo at the beginning of the song Dard-e-Dil in Karz (Chhaayaageet #68) and also composed music for the film, Shahenshah (Chhaayaageet #234).

Prem Rog is rated very highly as one of Raj Kapoor’s very consequential films on social themes. It came in second at the box office after Subhash Ghai’s Vidhaata, also starring Padmini Kolhapure and Shammi Kapoor.

All the songs of the film were extremely popular, including, Bhanware Ne Khilaya Phool, Main Hoon Prem Rogi, Meri Kismat Mein Tu Nahin Shayad, Mohabbat Hai Kya Cheez.

The film won Filmfare Awards in many categories: Best Director (Raj Kapoor), Best Actress (Padmini Kolhapure), Best Lyricist (Santosh Anand for Mohabbat Hai Kya Cheez), Best Editing (Raj Kapoor). It was also nominated for: Best Film (Raj Kapoor), Best Actor (Rishi Kapoor), Best Supporting Actress (Nanda), Best Story (Kamna Chandra), Best Music Director (Laxmikant Pyarelal), Best Lyricist (Ameer Qazalbash for Meri Kismat Mein To Nahin Shayad), Best Male Singer (Suresh Wadkar for Mein Hoon Prem Rogi, and Meri Kismat Mein Tu).

Padmini Kolhapure was 17 years of age when Prem Rog released, and is the youngest Filmfare Award winner in the Best Actress category. She had been doing child artist roles, but her career as an actress took off after Prem Rog.

A new version of the song, sung by Padmini Kolhapure herself.

Director: Raj Kapoor
Music: Laxmikant Pyarelal
Violin: Amar Haldipur
Lyrics: Santosh Anand
Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
*ing: Padmini Kolhapure
Film: Prem Rog (1982)

“Jaao yaar tum ghar jaao. Mujhe tumhare saath kaam nahin karna.” Go away, go home. I don’t want to work with you.

The composer is frustrated with the lyricist.

The lyricist stays silent, just choosing to receive the outburst of temperament from the composer, letting the storm pass by. But the composer is in no mood to let up.

“Kya likh ke laate ho yaar tum? Ye kya language hai? Mujhe kuch samajh mein nahin aata hai. Na iska language na iska meter.” What kind of things do you write? What is this language? I don’t understand anything. Not its language, nor its meter.

The composer is delivering a fine rant from his soapbox.

They have started work on a film. The lyricist has also written the story and will be directing it himself. For two nights in a row, the lyricist has stayed up all night and written the three songs.

To say that the composer is a bit shorthanded in understanding the finery of poetry, not to mention Urdu, would be an understatement. Usually it is his job to come up with a tune, puts some dummy words to it, and then the lyricists write the song to the meter of the tune.

But here, the lyricist has taken first-mover advantage. The composer has looked over the pieces of paper with the words and thrown up his hands in exasperation. What does this man write? Why such heavy words? Some of his words sound like they might be names of places. What do they even mean?

“Dekho bhai, hum kaam nahin kar saktey is tareeke se,” more escalation follows from the composer. See brother, I can’t work like this.

Good friends can say these things to each other. Good friends also listen to these things from each other.

The lyricist is letting his friend vent. After that last ultimatum, the lyricist feels the storm is about to pass by.

“Tu thoda try kar yaar. Kuch karenge. Ho jayega,” the composer breaks in. Just try a little friend. We will do something. It will come together.

After the composer has cooled off a bit, they sit down and the lyricist explains the situation and the words to the composer. They work on two of the songs going back and forth.

The lyricist’s words don’t fit any particular meter. They are very different. This is what vexes the composer.

The composer starts humming something and a tune starts to form for the mukhda for one of the songs. It feels like some progress is being made. The lyricist likes the tune of the mukhda. But the antara is another challenge. No matter what the composer tries, he just cannot get a tune to fit the words of the antara. Finally the composer just comes up with a completely different tune for the antara.

“Ab bahot ho gaya. Mukhda ho gaya. Ab tum antara is meter mein likh ke lao,” the composer says to the lyricist. Now the mukhda is done. Now you write the antara in this meter.

Now the shoe is on the other foot. The composer has thrown the challenge back to the lyricist. Let him write according to my tune now, the composer thinks in his mind.

They end the sitting for the day. The lyricist goes home scratching his head. He has already spent two nights writing these songs. Now he needs to write new antaras based on the composer’s tunes. Already sleep-deprived, the lyricist is now even more sleepless. He phones the composer.

“Kya yaar, jo likha hai usiko tune banao na.” My friend, why don’t you compose a tune for what I have already written.

The composer is in no mood to accommodate.

“Bilkul nahin. Tum kya likhke lata hai samajh mein nahin aata hai. Abhi tumko correct meter mein kuch naya likhna padega,” the composer declares with a sense of moral victory. No chance. I cannot understand what you write. Now you will have to write something new in the correct meter.

It is a tug of war. But, this is what gives rise to a masterpiece. It rarely emerges from creative freedom. Freedom lets you wander. Constraints narrow the field of choices.

Both men trying to preserve their creative freedom, the lyricist wanting every word he has painstakingly written, the composer wanting every musical instinct at his disposal. Neither willing to compromise. Each man unknowingly becoming the other’s constraint.

Once they both accept those constraints, the lyricist is no longer looking to write the “most beautiful poem”, but trying to express the same emotions within the composer’s musical guardrails. The composer no longer looking to compose the “most beautiful tune”, but discovering the tune hidden within the lyricist’s words.

Then something remarkable happens. Neither man gets what he wants. Each yields to the other, and music wins.

Over the next few days, they go back and forth and compose two out of the three songs. Now the third song remains.

The composer has told the lyricist he is going to be unavailable for a few days. It is the time of Durga Puja, or Pujo in Bengali, the grand festival celebrating the triumph of good over evil. Eminent composers and lyricists from Bengal dedicate themselves during this time of the year to compose songs for the festival.

The composer has committed himself to this effort putting all his film commitments on hold. One such day, the lyricist visits the composer’s house to see what he is working on for the festival.

He sits dutifully observing the composer, and an eminent Bengali lyricist, Gouri Prasanna Majumdar, heads down at work composing a Pujo song. The sentiment in those words sounds strangely familiar to the lyricist. It mirrors the emotions of the third song.

After the sitting, the lyricist approaches the composer.

“Hum ye tune use kar sakte hain apne gaane ke liye.” We can use this tune for our song.

The composer is elated to hear this.

“Kar sakte hain? Matlab two birds with one stone!” Can we use it? That means two birds with one stone!

The composer is relieved. No back and forth mental gymnastics would be necessary for this third song. What a coincidence the lyricist thinks the Pujo tune will readily apply!

After Pujo, the composer and lyricist have a sitting again just for the third song. The lyricist has come up with another idea. He wants to break the song and interject some dialogues between the characters.

It is a romantic song, but it is not a song about romance. It is not about love. It is not about separation. It lives somewhere in between, that mysterious space in between where perhaps love has remained, but life has moved on.

Just two people who know that what they shared was real, but know with certainty that it cannot be lived again. They are grateful for what was, accepting of what is, and wondering what might have been. There is pain, but it is gentle, dignified. The song plays in the background as the characters move amongst the ruins, a quiet metaphor for the crossroad where they stand.

The lyricist hands over a paper to the composer. It has the dialogue that he wants inserted in the middle of the song.

The hero says to heroine, “You see these vines with flowers. They are not flowers. They are instructions written in Arabic. You should see them during the day. They can be seen very clearly. During the day all this is filled with water. During the day, when these sprinklers…”

She interrupts, “How can I come during the day?”

He understands. He feels something, as if the moment is slipping away, but tries to lighten it. “You know this moon, you must see it at night. It doesn’t come out during the day.”

She plays along, “It must come out every night.”

He doesn’t know where to take it, “Yes…but every now and then the new moon comes around. As such the dark fortnight lasts for fifteen days, but this time it was very long.”

They stop walking. She looks up at him. Her eyes are glistening but cannot shed a tear. She says, “It was nine years long, wasn’t it?” He also looks at her. The past, the present and the future are all collapsing in this moment. Only this one moment is what remains now for them to try and live their whole life in it.

It’s that space where love remains, but life is moving on, cruelly. If only this night could be stopped. If only you say so, then the moon won’t set tonight. Make this night last forever. If only you would.

The composer finishes reading. He starts shaking his head. This is not done. Not in the middle of a song. You have the whole movie to say whatever you want these characters to say. Not in the middle of a freaking song. Please. What is this guy doing?

“Do you have any idea of sur (melody) and taal (rhythm)? You cut in with your dialogue anywhere you want. It’s not done. Not done. Jaao yaar tum ghar jaao,” the composer vents his frustration. Go away, go home.

Then something remarkable happens. Neither man gets what he wants. Each yields to the other, and music wins.

Gulzar wrote the lyrics, story, screenplay of Aandhi (1975) and directed it himself. RD Burman composed the music. All the romantic songs, Is Mod Se Jaate Hain, Tum Aa Gaye Ho, and Tere Bina Zindagi Se Koi, are sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Kishore Kumar, with Suchitra Sen and Sanjeev Kumar in lead roles.

All the duets are filmed in the premises of Srinagar’s Pari Mahal. The song Tere Bina Zindagi is filmed in the ruins of the 7th or 8th century Martand Sun Temple in Pahalgam.

During the shoot of this song, Suchitra Sen asked the music to be stopped and she said to Gulzar, “Bheegi aankhein hain par aansoo bah nahin rahe hain.” The eyes are wet but tears are not flowing.

She asked the last stanza to be played again.

“Tum jo keh do to aaj ki raat chaand dubega nahin, Raat ko rok lo”. If you say it, the moon won’t set tonight. You can stop the night if you want.

She listened to it with closed eyes. Then with a flick of her hand she indicated that the music be stopped.

Sanjeev Kumar gestured for the two-in-one music player be taken away. He pressed his finger against the corner of his eyes. They both indicated they were ready for the take. They looked at each other as if to live their whole life’s longing in the one line,

“Raat ki baat hai, aur zindagi baki to nahin.” It is only this one night, not much of life may remain.

The three duets of Aandhi rank highest among the duets of Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar.

1975 is a landmark year in the annals of Hindi cinema, with films like Sholay, Deewar, Aandhi, Julie, Chupke Chupke.

For the divine music and songs that RD created for Aandhi, he did not even receive a nomination for the Filmfare Award of Best Music Director. He was nominated for Sholay and Khel Khel Mein. A 19-year old Rajesh Roshan won the award for Julie.

Aandhi was nominated in the following categories:
- Best Actor (Sanjeev Kumar, won),
- Best Film - Critics (Gulzar, won),
- Best Film (J Om Prakash, won by Gulshan Rai for Deewar),
- Best Director (Gulzar, won by Yash Chopra for Deewar),
- Best Actress (Suchitra Sen, won by Lakshmi for Julie),
- Best Lyricist (Gulzar for Tere Bina Zindagi Se, won by Indeevar for Dil Aisa Kisi Ne Mera Toda from Amaanat),
- Best Story (Kamleshwar, won by Salim-Javed for Deewar) [although Gulzar maintains that Kamleshwar’s book was written independently of Gulzar’s story for Aandhi].

Listen below for RD’s rendition of the Pujo song, Jete Jete Pathe Holo Deri.

Lyrics: Gulzar
Music: RD Burman
Singers: Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar
*ing: Suchitra Sen, Sanjeev Kumar
Director: Gulzar
Film: Aandhi (1975)

Suddenly, the door flies open. It is Dada. He walks in like he owns the place. He cracks jokes with the recording crew on the way, laughing loudly. Seriousness ceases to exist when he is around.

As he walks toward the singing booth, he spots a young man sitting with a harmonium. Dada recognizes him immediately. It is Hariharan, the classical and ghazal singer.

Dada exclaims. “Arre Hari! Tu yahan kya kar raha hai? Kya tu bhi ye gaana gaa raha hai?” Hey Hari! What are you doing here? Are you also singing this song?

Hari smiles respectfully and nods. “Ji Dada, main bhi is gaane mein hoon.” Yes, Dada, I am also in this song.

Dada chuckles, thinking it is a nice duet. He glances further into the studio. Sitting right there is another person who looks familiar. It is Anup Jalota. Dada walks over.

“Anup! Kya tu bhi is gaane ka hissa hai?” Anup! Are you also a part of this song? Anup smiles back. “Ji haan Dada, main bhi yehi gaana ga raha hoon.” Yes, Dada, I am also singing this song.

Dada shakes his head, highly amused. Three male voices in this one song. He turns his eyes toward the far corner of the singing booth. There, he spots someone curled up tightly and wrapped in a thick woolen shawl, looking really miserable. Dada steps closer, looking at him with concern.

“Arre tu kaun hai aur yahan kya raha hai? Kya hua tujhe?” Who are you and what are you doing here? What happened to you?

He looks up with tired eyes. “Dada, main Suresh Wadkar hoon. Main bhi yahan gaana gaane aaya hoon. Mujhe thoda sa bukhar hai.” Dada, I am Suresh Wadkar. I have also come here to sing a song. I have a bit of a fever.

Dada stands in the middle of the room, scratching his head, trying to digest the fact that there are four singers lined up for a single track. What is this song about? Just as he is processing this, the restroom door clicks open. Shailendra Singh walks out into the studio.

Dada looks at Shailendra for a second. He throws his hands up in the air and laughs. “Ab tu ye mat kehna ki tu bhi yehi gaana gane aya hai!” Now you don’t tell me that you have also come to sing this same song!

Shailendra, completely unaware of the conversation that just took place, looks a bit confused about what’s going on. He responds innocently, “Ji Dada, haan.” Yes, Dada.

Dada is absolutely amazed. He looks around the room at the four singers. The composer has really gone all out, gathering a small army of singers for one melody! He quickly gathers all of them together.

“Dekho bhai, main tum sabse umar mein bada hoon aur senior bhi hoon. Main ghar ja raha hoon, aur jab tak main ghar na pahunch jaun, koi bhi Bala (the composer) ko kuch nahi batayega!” Look, brothers, I am older than all of you, and I am also your senior. I am going home, and until I reach home, nobody will tell Bala (the composer) anything!

Before anyone can ask questions, Dada slips out of the studio door and disappears.

A little while later, Bala walks into the main recording hall. He wants to have a quick rehearsal.

“Chalo sab log, taiyar ho jao. Ek baar rehearsal kar lete hain.” Come on, everyone, get ready. Let’s rehearse once.

The composer looks around the room, expecting to see a familiar face. He turns to his studio assistant.

“Dada kahan hai? Usse andar bulao.” Where is Dada? Call him inside. The assistant looks nervous. “Balasaheb, woh toh ghar chale gaye.” Balasaheb has already left for home.

The composer is not surprised. He knows exactly who he is dealing with. Without wasting a moment, he walks over to the studio telephone and dials Dada’s home number.

Back at his house, Dada picks up the phone. But instead of his usual voice, he answers in a perfectly mimicked female voice, pretending to be the maid.

“Hello? Kaun bol raha hai? Ghar par koi nahi hai.” Hello? Who is speaking? There is no one at home.

Balasaheb has known Dada for a very long time. He hears right through the mimicry.

“Dada! Yeh apni aawaz badalna band karo. Tum recording chhod kar ghar kyun chale gaye? Studio wapas aa jao.” Dada! Stop changing your voice. Why did you leave the recording and go home? Come back to the studio!

Hearing himself get caught, Dada drops the female act. He lets out his signature hearty laugh over the receiver, coming clean to the composer.

“Arre Bala! Wahan pehle se hi itne saare gaane wale baithe hain. In bachhon se gaana gawaalo. Mujhe kyun pareshan kar rahe ho?” Hey Bala! There are already so many singers sitting over there! Get the song recorded by these kids. Why are you troubling me?

Suresh Wadkar, Hariharan, Anup Jalota, and Shailendra Singh provided the playback for the song Footpathon Ke Ham Rahane Vaale from the film Mashaal. The music was composed by Hridaynath Mangeshkar, and the lyrics were penned by Javed Akhtar. The film was produced and directed by Yash Chopra. The song was picturized on Anil Kapoor, Gulshan Grover, Madan Jain, and Harish Magon.

Hridaynath Mangeshkar had Kishore Kumar selected for most of the other songs in Mashaal, such as Zindagi Aa Raha Hoon Main and a duet, Mujhe Tum Yaad Karanaa Aur Mujhako Yaad Aanaa Tum. These turned out to be major hits. He invited Kishore Kumar to the group song as well, which was picturized on all the youth characters in the film. Once Kishore Kumar reached the studio and saw the number of singers already invited, he decided to go back home. Hridaynath requested him to come back, but wasn’t successful.

Yash Chopra’s films always had a musical aspect to them. Throughout the 1970s and early 1980s, he relied almost exclusively on Kalyanji-Anandji and Shiv-Hari. But for Mashaal, which was adapted from the Marathi play Ashroonchi Zhali Phule, he felt that Hridaynath Mangeshkar would be the better choice. Hridaynath Mangeshkar was an absolute maestro in Marathi cinema and theater, and Yash Chopra knew that he could provide the music for a complicated subject such as Mashaal.

Hridaynath’s nickname was Bala since he was the youngest in the Mangeshkar family.

At the 32nd Filmfare Awards, Anil Kapoor won the award for Best Supporting Actor. Dilip Kumar was nominated for Best Actor, and Javed Akhtar for Best Story.

Singer(s): Suresh Wadkar, Hariharan, Anup Jalota, Shailendra Singh
Composer: Hridaynath Mangeshkar
Lyrics: Javed Akhtar
Producer/Director: Yash Chopra
Actor(s): Anil Kapoor, Gulshan Grover, Madan Jain, Harish Magon.
Film: Mashaal (1984)

The filmmaker has parked himself in Chennai to be with the composer. The actor cannot join him but wants to ensure that he has a say in the music.

The filmmaker is operating on a short schedule. The music needs to be completed, songs need to be recorded, before they go on location for the shoot.

“Tune, tune, tune, where is my tune?” This is the constant refrain from the filmmaker to the composer.

The composer is not sure what to do. He is working at a feverish pace. He has some tunes that he has composed for another album. He puts that collection in front of the filmmaker.

“See if you like any of these,” he tells the filmmaker.

The filmmaker selects one.

“Oh, this will be perfect for the romantic song,” the filmmaker announces after listening to it a few times. The tune fits the lyrics perfectly.

Each day in the evening, when the composer and filmmaker have finalized the tune of a song, the filmmaker would return back to his hotel, and phone the actor. This would allow the actor in Mumbai to hear the tune and give his opinion. Each time, the actor would have one singular response, “Mind blowing.”

Today, after returning to the hotel, the filmmaker dials the actor in Mumbai.

“I have a song,” the filmmaker tells the actor.

“Let’s hear it,” the actor replies.

The filmmaker takes out the cassette player containing the tune and holds it close to the mouthpiece, and hits play.

In Mumbai, the actor presses his phone to his ear, as if that would make him listen to the tune coming out of the cassette player in the hotel room in Chennai to sound any better.

After the tune finishes playing, the filmmaker holds the phone back to his ear.

The actor says, “What is this? I don’t like it.”

The filmmaker is surprised. What happened today?

They discuss the tune.

The actor says, “This tune is too slow for a romantic song.”

The filmmaker sees the point. He had not considered the pace of the tune. He had been too involved in imagining the filming of the song. They decide to talk again the next day along with the composer.

Next day, the filmmaker reaches the composer’s studio in the afternoon. They get on a call with the actor to talk about this romantic song.

The actor repeats his opinion from the night before.

“This tune is too slow for a romantic song,” he voices again.

The composer tries to explain that it was a previously composed tune that the filmmaker had liked. The actor is in no mood to listen to the reasons.

“You know Karan Johar is coming out with a romantic film? What have you done to the romantic song of our film?” The actor asks sounding worried.

They discuss if they should change the tune and compose something completely new.

The filmmaker holds his ground. He has liked the tune a lot. There is silence.

“Can you just speed up the song,” the filmmaker tries to find a way out.

The composer listens to both of them. He assures them that he will give them exactly what they want.

He has recently gotten a new workstation with new software. It allows for time stretching. So the composer goes to work and makes the tune a little faster.

AR Rahman composed O Rey Chhori and the rest of the songs and music of Lagaan (2001), produced by Aamir Khan and directed by Ashutosh Gowariker. The song is sung by Udit Narayan, Alka Yagnik, and Vasundhara Das, and it is filmed on Aamir Khan, Gracy Singh, and Rachel Shelley who plays the role of Elizabeth Russell who professes one-sided love for Aamir Khan’s character, Bhuvan.

The lyrics are written by Javed Akhtar. The English lyrics in the song, which are sung by Vasundhara Das, and filmed on Rachel Shelley, are written by Farhan and Zoya Akhtar.

Rahman had composed the tune of O Rey Chhori around the time he had composed many tunes for his album Maa Tujhe Salaam. Gowariker felt it would be the perfect tune for Gauri and Bhuvan’s romantic song. Rahman seamlessly masterfully mixed the compositions of Indian classical music with Western music in this song.

The soundtrack of Lagaan is highly acclaimed as one of Rahman’s best work.

Music: AR Rahman
Lyrics: Javed Akhtar, Farhan Akhtar, Zoya Akhtar
Singers: Udit Narayan, Alka Yagnik, Vasundhara Das
*ing: Aamir Khan, Gracy Singh, Rachel Shelley
Director: Ashutosh Gowariker
Film: Lagaan (2001)

This filmmaker decides to put his own version on canvas, but with a few changes to keep with the modern times, while keeping the emotional arc intact.

Like the original, in this story also, the hero carries a deep love from childhood towards the heroine. But he is not a self-destructive aristocrat. He is an orphan who believes that success will bring acceptance, conquers the world, yet cannot conquer love.

Unlike the original, the heroine unknowingly becomes the center of the hero’s emotional universe. She lives in a world that he can never truly belong to. She loves him as a human, just not in the way he desires.

There is the respectable suitor, who possesses what society considers to be all the right credentials. He wins the heroine because he just fits naturally into her world. Plus he is as much or better looking than the hero. The filmmaker is very deliberate about who should be cast in this role.

Like the original, there’s the courtesan whose love is unrequited. She loves generously without expectation. She receives affection but never his heart. She is the proverbial ‘other woman’. The actress cast in this role relishes the tag.

And then there is society that measures worth according to birth and social standing. It played the antagonist in the old story, and stays true in character to this day. Society, the real villain.

The original Devdas is a tragedy because the hero is weak and does very little. He is almost devoid of any agency. This hero is the opposite. He can do anything. Above all, he is never weak, and has a very high threshold for pain. Pain is his destiny, and he can’t avoid it.

The filmmaker and the hero have a long association since their first hit film five years ago. In those five years the hero’s stock has risen through the roof.

The actress cast in the courtesan’s role has a great on-screen chemistry with the hero. The audience love to see them together. After their last few films together, there is some gossip in trade circles about them. At an outdoor shoot of their last film, he had thrashed an onlooker on location who had talked trash about her. The actress has as much to contribute to the grapevine by slipping in casual references to ‘him’ and fanning public imagination. ‘He’ has become a recurring feature in her media interactions.

The filmmaker knows the courtesan’s role does not do justice to her. It is a bit of a cameo, not having much to do with the central theme of the hero’s love for the heroine. But she has been excited for this role. All that matters is that ‘he’ is her romantic interest in the film.

During the final script narration, the filmmaker decides he needs to give special treatment for the first meeting between the hero and the courtesan. This is also the courtesan’s entry in the film. She is performing a ‘mujra’ (a traditional dance that originated in the Mughal era) at her ‘kothi’ (salon), and a friend brings him into her ‘mehfil’ (gathering). It is the perfect opportunity to bring their great chemistry on screen and give the audience more of what they want. This thought stays at the back of his mind.

The composers and the lyricist are working on other songs. So, the filmmaker decides to write this song himself. He writes it as a solo dance number performed by the courtesan. It would be perfect in the nightingale’s voice.

At the next sitting with the composers, they discuss the song, and the composers work for a few days to set the lyrics to tune.

As discussions continue, a thought emerges - why not make this a duet? Let’s give the hero a part in the song instead of just passively watching the courtesan dance. That’s it! The filmmaker realizes this is the “special treatment” this song needs.

But there’s something else weighing on his mind. The actress who is to play the courtesan has not yet confirmed her dates. She is traveling abroad and has been out of contact. The filmmaker has no time to mess around. He has been thinking about replacing her with another actress. It’s only a cameo anyway.

She comes to know that the filmmaker is in talks with another actress for the role of the courtesan. She decides she must return back to Bombay immediately. She cannot lose this film opposite ‘him’.

The original casting is restored. Dates are finalized, and the schedule of the ‘mujra’ song is confirmed.

The filmmaker can now bring his attention back to the song. He is convinced the song should be a duet. He writes the ‘antara’ for the male singer.

On the day of the recording, the male singer’s presence is also requested. He duly arrives and is told about the song. The nightingale is also present. The male singer listens to the ‘mujra’ and is confused why they want him in the song. The song is perfect as a solo number.

“Yeh gaana to Lata ji ki awaaz mein bilkul sahi hai,” he says to the composers.
This song is perfect in Lata ji’s voice.

He adds, “Mujhe kyon is gaane mein ghusa rahe ho?”
Why are you forcing me into this song?

The composers tell him about the situation and that this song is the first meeting of the hero and the courtesan and they want to establish the romantic chemistry right away, at least from the courtesan’s side.

They tell the singer that his part is supposed to start with an ‘aalaap’. This gives even more reason for the singer to hem and haw.

“Arre kahan mujhse aalaap gawaa rahe ho? Meri jagah Manna Dey ko hi bula lete,” he complains.
Why are you making me sing an ‘aalaap’? You could have just called Manna Dey instead of me. Manna Dey, the eminently versatile and veteran classical singer.

The composers tell him he doesn’t have a choice. He must sing this song because his voice is the playback for the hero’s two other songs.

The singer relents and says, “Agar aap zidd karte ho to mein gaata hoon. Lekin Lata ji ko gaa lene dijiye. Phir mein apni tarah se gaaunga.”
If you insist, I will sing. But let Lata ji sing her part first. Then I will sing in my own way.

Lata ji finishes recording her part of the song and leaves. The male singer takes his time to sing his part in his own style. And how!

Prakash Mehra wrote the lyrics of Salaam-e-Ishq Meri Jaan in the film Muqaddar Ka Sikandar (1978), produced and directed by himself, and music by Kalyanji-Anandji. The song is a duet performed by Lata Mangeshkar and Kishore Kumar, and filmed on Rekha and Amitabh Bachchan.

Mehra wanted this to be his take of a modern version of Devdas. However, the character of Sikandar was so diametrically opposed to Devdas, that the resemblance was lost on audiences.

Rekha almost lost the role to Reena Roy due to her travel abroad. Shatrughan Sinha was selected for Vinod Khanna’s role. However Mehra felt that if Rakhee’s character was to choose him over Sikandar, then the actor should be as good looking or better than Amitabh. Mehra did do right by Shatrughan Sinha and Reena Roy by casting them in his very next film, Jwalamukhi (1979).

Muqaddar Ka Sikandar was the highest grossing Hindi film of 1978, and the biggest Diwali blockbuster of that time. It was also the third highest grossing film of the 70s after Sholay (1975) and Bobby (1973).

The soundtrack of the film became a massive hit. Salaam-e-ishq became an iconic song, along with Rotey Huey which featured Amitabh Bachchan riding a motorcycle on the streets of Nariman Point, which has become an enduring image of the film.

Prakash Mehra reprised the format of this song in his later film, Sharaabi (1984), with Kishore Kumar singing the alaap for Amitabh as he joins Jaya Prada on stage in the song Mujhe Naulakha Manga De.

The role of Sikandar’s friend who brings him to Zohrabai’s ‘kothi’ is played by Ram Sethi, who was Mehra’s assistant. The role was supposed to be played by Asrani, however, on the day of the shoot, Asrani couldn’t show up. So Sethi stepped in to play the role. From that point on, Sethi features as Amitabh’s sidekick in almost all of Mehra’s films such as Laawaris (1981), Namak Halaal (1982), Sharaabi (1984), and Jaadugar (1989).

The combination of Prakash Mehra and Amitabh Bachchan yielded several hit films. Muqaddar Ka Sikandar spiraled the Rekha-Amitabh gossip mill out of control. Their chemistry outshone everything else.

In a sensational interview in Stardust in 1978, “Rekha - Girl Without a Conscience?”, Rekha claimed:

“Once I was looking at the whole [Bachchan] family through the projection room when they came to see the trial show of Muqaddar Ka Sikandar. Jaya was in the front row and he and his parents were in the row behind her. They couldn’t see her as clearly as I could. And during our love scenes, I could see tears pouring down her face.”

Rekha mentions this role as the closest to her heart, and which started her on a period of self-discovery. She continued to fan the gossip mill by saying, allegedly:

“It is not a question of what does Jaya have that I don’t have. What does Jaya have that I have?’”

Throughout this, Amitabh maintained stoic silence. Rekha’s biography, “Rekha - The Untold Story,” mentions that it is believed that after Muqaddar Ka Sikandar, Jaya Bachchan put a ban on Amitabh working with Rekha, and Amitabh started communicating to filmmakers that he would not be signing any new projects with Rekha. [After MKS, they featured together in Mr. Natwarlal (1979), Suhaag (1979), Ram Balram (1980), and Silsila (1981).]

The releases of 1978 further cemented Amitabh Bachchan’s superstar status with films such as Kasme Vaade, Trishul, and Don.

Muqaddar Ka Sikandar was nominated for nine Filmfare awards: Best Film and Best Director (Prakash Mehra), Best Actor (Amitabh Bachchan), Best Supporting Actor (Vinod Khanna), Best Supporting Actress (Rekha), Best Comedian (Ram Sethi), Best Male Playback Singer (Kishore Kumar for O Saathi Re), Best Female Playback Singer (Asha Bhosle for O Saathi Re), Best Story (Laxmikant Sharma).

Lyrics: Prakash Mehra
Music: Kalyanji Anandji
Singers: Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar
*ing: Rekha, Amitabh Bachchan
Director: Prakash Mehra
Film: Muqaddar Ka Sikandar (1978)

On the screen, a party scene begins. This is towards the end of the film. So far, the response has been quite great from the audience. In this scene, a young girl steps up to sing for her guests at a party. The music starts, and the playback singer’s voice starts to resonate. Not a typical voice.

A few distributors ahead of the filmmaker start whispering. The whispering turns into giggles, and soon, laughter spreads across the hall. One distributor leans over to another and shouts, “Yeh kya chal raha hai? Party main bhajan kyun gaa rahi hai?” What is going on here? Why is she singing a bhajan at a party?

The filmmaker’s face turns red with embarrassment. He stands up immediately, signals to his composer and lyricist who are sitting nearby, and walks quickly out into the quiet lobby. The filmmaker tries to go back to the memory lane to see what happened here.

The girl is at the party and waiting for her beloved to show up. The song choice was one of Meera’s bhajans. Yes, this is exactly how he had described the situation to the composer and lyricist.

As soon as the composer and lyricist catch up to him, he turns around and gestures toward the closed cinema doors. “Bahut gadbad ho gayi. Yeh nahin chalega. Log hans rahe hain.” This is really messy. This won’t work. People are laughing.

Composer: “Lekin is awaaz main kitni sacchai hai. Situation ke liye ekdum sahi hai.” But there is so much sincerity in this voice. It is really apt for this situation.

Filmmaker: “Humari film bilkul dry lag rahi hai. Distributors ko lagta hai ki isme koi bada gaana ya koi bada singer nahi hai.” Our film feels completely dry. The distributors feel that there is no big song or singer to pull the film.

Lyricist: “Ab hum kya kar sakte hain? Film toh kuch din main release ho rahi hai.” What can we do now? The film is releasing in a few days.

Filmmaker: “Mujhe is party wale scene main ek aisi awaaz chahiye jo sabko pasand aaye.” I want a voice in this party scene that everyone likes.

Composer: “Lekin naya gaana likhne aur record karne main toh bahut time lagega. Studio book karna padega. Dates arrange karni padegi. Dobara shoot karna padega.” But writing and recording a new song will take a lot of time. We will have to book the studio. Book new dates. Shoot the scene again.

The filmmaker stands in silence for a moment. His brain is working overtime. Several what-ifs are going on inside him. He suddenly brings out a slight smile. He remembers an iconic, older superhit song sung from a classic film that his own mentor directed.

“Kyun na hum ek kaam kare. Naya gaana nahi banate hain.” Let’s do this. We will not make a new song. The filmmaker says. “Hum ek purana superhit gaana istemal karenge.” We will use an old superhit song.

The composer and lyricist are completely confused. “Kya yeh mumkin hai?” Is that even possible?

The filmmaker smiles back and shakes his head. “Haan, kyun nahin. Main kuch karta hoon.” Yes, of course. I will do something.

The next day, he calls the shoot unit back to the studio.

“Kaam ho gaya. Chalo shooting shuru karte hain ek alag gaane ke saath.” It is done. Let’s shoot with a different song. The party scene begins, and the young girl now lip-syncs to a completely different song.

Hrishikesh Mukherjee was able to reach out to Bimal Roy to get the rights for the song Aaja Re Pardesi and use it in his film, Guddi. The film was produced/directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee, the story and lyrics were written by Gulzar, and the music was composed by Vasant Desai. The playback for the original song was provided by Lata Mangeshkar. Jaya Bhaduri played the role of a young girl in this song. This song was originally part of the film Madhumati, whose music was composed by Salil Chowdhury and lyrics were written by Shailendra.

Growing up, Gulzar noticed that his sister was infatuated with the legendary actor Dilip Kumar. Like many young girls of that era, she lived in a world where her favorite star was a flawless superman who could do no wrong. She would carefully cut out his photographs from film magazines and paste them into her personal notebooks. Gulzar was fascinated by this and shared this observation with his close friend, Hrishikesh Mukherjee. Hrishi-da instantly recognized the potential around it and decided to build a full-length script and film around it.

When Guddi was initially completed, it only had three songs. They were all composed by Vasant Desai, written by Gulzar, and sung by the legendary classical vocalist Vani Jairam. One of the songs was picturized towards the end, where Jaya Bhaduri as the young girl was waiting for her beloved at a party. The song was based on one of Meera’s bhajans, Hari Bin Kaise Jiyun Ri, which was slow-paced and in the voice of Vani Jairam.

Before the wide theatrical release, the producers held trade screenings for distributors to get their reaction. The feedback was overwhelmingly negative regarding the music. The distributors felt the film lacked a big, commercially viable song by an established singer like Lata Mangeshkar to pull in audiences.

Hrishikesh Mukherjee had a deep connection to the great director Bimal Roy since he had worked as Roy’s editor for years. Bimal Roy had directed Madhumati in 1958, which featured Lata Mangeshkar’s hit Aaja Re Pardesi composed by Salil Chowdhury. Hrishi-da and his team came up with a clever shortcut to reuse the track in Guddi given the time constraints. He reached out to Bimal Roy and Salil Chowdhury to secure the rights to reuse the audio track exactly as it was.

At the 6th Filmfare Awards in 1959, Salil Chowdhury won the Best Music Director for Madhumati, and Lata Mangeshkar won the Best Playback Singer - Female award for the song Aaja Re Pardesi.

This is the original song, Hari Bin Kaise Jiyun Ri, which was never featured in the film.

Original Composer: Salil Chowdhury
Original Lyricist: Shailendra
Original Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
*ing: Jaya Bhaduri
Producer/Director: Hrishikesh Mukherjee
Film: Guddi (1971)

The filmmaker is narrating the script to everyone. “Yeh bahut purani kahani hai. Main sahi waqt ka intezaar kar raha tha is film ko banane ke liye.” This is an old story. I was waiting for the right moment to make this film. “Tees saal beet gaye hain. Main sahi hero ke budhape ka intezaar kar raya tha.” It has been over 30 years. I was waiting for the right hero to get old for this role.

The lyricist is deeply impressed by the emotional depth of the story. A great opportunity to write lyrics for such a beautiful film.

The meeting ends. The lyricist gets up to leave. The filmmaker tries to stand up but is unable to. His assistants rush to offer support and help him out of his chair. He is over 90 years old but still comes to the office every day.

The lyricist insists. “Aap baithiye, main chala jaaaonga.” Please sit. I will see myself out. Despite his frail health, the filmmaker continues to walk with the lyricist all the way to the main gate.

They make it to the gate where the lyricist’s car is waiting. The old filmmaker is huffing and puffing. The lyricist feels bad seeing the elderly man struggle. But also feeling honored that he came to drop him off at his car. The lyricist steps inside the car.

The filmmaker bends down and says to him. “Main yeh izzat tumhein nahi de raha hoon. Main us kursi ki izzat rakh raha hoon jahan tum baithte the.” I am not giving you this respect. I am respecting the chair where you were sitting. The lyricist looks confused. Where was he sitting? It seemed like a normal chair. What is the old man talking about? “Main samjha nahin?” I don’t understand.

The filmmaker has misty eyes as he says this. “Beta, jahan tum baithe the wahan kabhi Sahir Ludhianvi baitha karte the. Mein us kursi ki izzat kar raha hoon.” Son, where you were sitting, at one point, Sahir Ludhianvi used to sit there. I was paying respects to that chair.

The lyricist is dumb founded. He is struggling to find words. The filmmaker probably bestowed the highest compliment ever, but at the same time, he has put all this pressure on him now to perform at the level of that legend. The driver starts the car and leaves the premises. The lyricist can still see the filmmaker in the side mirror looking at them as the car drives away.

The lyricist is now determined to give his absolute best to the film. He sits down to work on one of the most critical songs of the movie. This song highlights the intense pain of separation between the lead characters who are in their golden years. There is minimal music, almost a cry of words coming out of one heart and pouring into another. He is excited to share them with the filmmaker.

The lyricist’s phone rings. He picks up and listens to what the caller has to say. His expression changes quickly. He says “Accha,” Okay, and then hangs up. The filmmaker just lost his beloved wife. As a result, he has decided to hand over the reins to his son, who will now complete the film.

The lyricist is disappointed. This song is such an integral part of what the filmmaker was expecting. His emotions during the narration are all captured in the words. He must hear this song. The lyricist pulls some strings and gets a meeting with the filmmaker.

The lyricist shows up at his residence. The filmmaker hasn’t been to the office in several days since his wife passed away. He looks at the lyricist and continues to stare into a space. No expressions on his face.

The lyricist doesn’t want to lose this opportunity even though he doesn’t have the filmmaker’s attention. “Main aapko gaane ka mukhda sunata hoon.” I will sing you the opening lines of the song. He goes ahead and hums the first line from the mukhda. He anticipates an explosive response. The filmmaker continues to sit there without any reaction to this first line.

The lyricist is a bit frustrated but feels like he should keep trying. “Ab main aapko dusri line sunata hoon.” Now, I will sing you the second line. He hums the second line as well to the filmmaker.

The filmmaker moves his face slightly. He looks at the lyricist inquisitively. For some reason, this second line struck a nerve. “Phir se gao?” Sing again? The lyricist obliges immediately. “Aisa lagta hai jaise tumne ye gaana meri zindagi par likha hai. Meri zindagi bhi ab mere paas nahin rahi.” Looks like you have written the song about my life. I have also lost the love of my life.

The lyricist realizes quickly that the filmmaker is missing his beloved wife and now sees himself in this song about separation. The filmmaker’s tears can’t stop flowing. He gets himself out of the chair with great difficulty, stumbles over to the lyricist, and hugs him.

Sameer wrote the lyrics for all the songs, including Main Yahan Tu Wahan for the film Baghban. The film was produced and written by B. R. Chopra, directed by Ravi Chopra, and the music was composed by Aadesh Shrivastava. The song features Amitabh Bachchan’s own vocals and is picturized on him and Hema Malini in the film.

B. R. Chopra first conceived the idea for Baghban during a visit to Europe in the 1960s, where a visit to a retirement home deeply moved him after witnessing elderly parents left alone by their children. By 1973, he had developed the screenplay and set his heart on casting Dilip Kumar in the lead role. That didn’t work out since Dilip Kumar had trouble committing time due to one illness after another. B. R. Chopra had his heart set on Sanjeev Kumar as an alternate, but Sanjeev Kumar had done a similar film called Zindagi, and he wasn’t very excited about repeating a similar role. The final choice was Amitabh Bachchan, whom B. R. Chopra felt could do justice to the role. But Amitabh wasn’t old enough back then, and hence B. R. Chopra waited for the right time to arrive. Thirty years after it was written, B.R. Chopra’s son, Ravi Chopra, as the director, finally brought his father’s dream project to the screen in 2003.

Coming from a strong background in journalism and literature, B. R. Chopra looked at cinema not just as visual entertainment, but as a medium for powerful storytelling. He believed in being surrounded by a strong cadre of writers and lyricists. Sameer, who was dominating the charts with his writing style, was invited to the BR Films office. The moment Sameer sat in the historic cabin where icons like Sahir Ludhianvi sat, B.R. Chopra’s love for words became the driving force behind his writing.

Aadesh Shrivastava was also close friends with Amitabh Bachchan, which made a huge difference. Aadesh Shrivastava strongly believed that a professional singer should not sing this song. Instead, he insisted that Amitabh Bachchan must sing it himself. He felt that only the actor’s real, unpolished voice could truly capture the deep pain and sadness of an elderly husband.

Amitabh Bachchan and Hema Malini were both nominated for Best Actor and Best Actress at the 49th Filmfare Awards. Baghban was also nominated for the Best Film.

Lyrics: Sameer
Music: Aadesh Shrivastava
Singer: Amitabh Bachchan
*ing: Amitabh Bachchan, Hema Malini
Producer/Writer: B. R. Chopra
Director: Ravi Chopra
Film: Baghban (2003)

After wrapping up the film, the filmmaker now moves on this next project. He approaches a veteran cinematographer.

“This is a film about the Bombay riots. A young man is caught in a situation that is not of his own making. But I don’t want this to be a sad film. I want to show everything that came before the riots as beautiful as possible”, the filmmaker tells the cinematographer.

The cinematographer thinks for a while. The riots happened in December of 1992 and January of 1993. This means the six month period before the riots would be the monsoon season.

“Let’s shoot a lot of shots in the rain”, the cinematographer responds.

The filmmaker likes this suggestion. The monsoon season elevates the beauty of nature. The cinematographer goes on a recce to identify some locations. He selects Bekal Fort in Kerala for the location of a song.

The Bekal Fort is a medieval fort built in 1650 AD. It is the largest fort in Kerala, spreading over 40 acres. Moreover, the fort appears to just emerge from the sea. Three-quarters of the fort exterior is in contact with the water.

The filmmaker loves the location. It is a beautiful backdrop for a love song.

“I want a love song”, the filmmaker tells the composer.

The composer is in a completely different headspace. “What love song?”, he thinks to himself. He has had a lot of late and sleepless nights. He has no fuel left in him. He needs to recharge.

But the filmmaker’s request is urgent. The composer finds his way to his piano. This is where he does his best work as he composes his tunes. He glides his fingers over the ivories. But tonight the notes do not come. He sits at the piano long enough hoping inspiration to strike.

He is too tired to even think. And too tired to be frustrated. The mind starts to slowly shut down. The shoulders slacken first. Then the spine starts to slump. The fingers, which were searching the piano keys, now just rest on them.

Sleep does not arrive all at once. It comes like surrender. The body loosens its hold on itself little by little, eyelids growing too heavy by the second, breathing slowing down. Conscious thoughts begin to recede. The chatter dies down. The conscious mind that has tried to find a tune can no longer command itself to continue.

But even in that state something still remains awake beneath everything.

As the composer drifts deeper into the border between sleep state and dream state, the subconscious starts moving through memory, fragments of sound, and feeling. There is no effort. There is no analysis. There is no intent. There is no need to force creativity into existence. The subconscious mind begins assembling what the conscious mind could not.

Somewhere in that sleep state, the tune comes to him. He is suddenly awakened by his awkward posture. The tune stays with him through his journey back to wakefulness. It is a slow tune. He quickly records himself humming it into the mini cassette-player that is always dutifully within his arm’s reach. And he goes to bed.

The next afternoon the composer finds the mini cassette-player and listens to the tune. It is slow. In fact, it is too slow.

The filmmaker calls. “Where is the tune?”

“I got a tune, but it is very slow for a love song”, the composer admits.

The filmmaker doesn’t seem to be bothered. “It’s ok. Let’s record.”

The composer thinks about who might be the best singer to sing the song. He writes down two names on paper. Both are veteran popular singers who would do justice to the song. But he is not able to make up his mind.

He leaves the paper with the two names on the table and walks around. Another name comes to his mind. He writes it down as the third name. Still he is not able to make up his mind.

The composer then creates three chits of paper, with one name on each, folds them and puts them in a hat. Let destiny take care of it, he thinks.

He closes his eyes, says a prayer, and picks up one chit. He opens it. It is the third singer’s name. He is a very unusual singer for this song, the composer thinks to himself. This person is a ghazal singer. He doesn’t stand on one note. That’s his style. But that’s the chit that got picked. So why argue with destiny?

The singer is contacted and beckoned to the studio. He is given the lyrics and the tune. The singer has a feeling of deja vu. Where has he heard this tune before? Has he heard it before? It sure feels like he has heard this tune somewhere. But where? It sounds so familiar.

The singer is curious to know the music. But there is none. The music and orchestration has not been arranged yet. The tune is all there is. And a click track and a light harmony. The singer sings the song with only his voice getting recorded in the studio.

The filmmaker then takes the track to the Bekal Fort location for filming.

As they film the love song with the hero and heroine, at the end of the shoot, the filmmaker calls the composer, saying, “This song is doing something. It’s magic.” The composer finds it interesting. The filmmaker continues, “I think we need some BGM when the heroine is running towards the hero.” BGM, industry lingo for background music.

The orchestration along with BGM is added to the song. The song becomes even more magical.

AR Rahman composed the music of Bombay (1995) and the song Tu Hi Re, sung by Hariharan, Kavita Krishnamurthy and Sunanda (humming), lyrics by Mehboob. The song is filmed on Anand Swamy and Manisha Koirala.

Bombay is written and directed by Mani Ratnam, as the second in the trilogy of Roja (1992), and Dil Se (1998). The film was very well received both critically and commercially, and the soundtrack of the film became immensely popular.

Hariharan recorded the song in 30-45 minutes flat, as he felt he already knew the tune in his heart and it did not take him long to learn it. He first recorded the Tamil version and then the Hindi version. The female vocals, and the music orchestration were all added later.

The two other names that AR Rahman wrote in the hat were SP Balasubramanyam and Yesudas.

Bombay won the Filmfare Award for Best Film (Critics) awarded to Mani Ratnam, and Best Actress (Critics) for Manisha Koirala.

Watch Hariharan sing this song live:

Music: AR Rahman
Singers: Hariharan, Kavita Krishnamurthy, Sunanda
Lyrics: Mehboob
*ing: Anand Swamy, Manisha Koirala
Director: Mani Ratnam
Film: Bombay (1995)

The lyricist and the duo of composers are in a small music room. They are excited. They have just finished a new tune. The lyrics match the exact situation of the film. The filmmaker sits across from them.

“Bhai, yeh gana suno, aapko pasand aayega” Brother, listen to this song, you will like it, says one of the composers.

They begin to sing the hook of the song.

The filmmaker holds up his hand, stopping them mid-sentence. “Yeh kya hai? Yeh labz bahut purana lag raha hai.” What is this? This word feels very old-fashioned.

The lyricist is disappointed but keeps his composure. “Lekin story ke hisaab se yeh labz hi sahi hai.” But according to the story, this word is the right one.

The filmmaker is visibly frustrated now.

The composers exchange a look. They agree with the lyricist. “Theek hai, shayad humari awaaz mein accha nahi lag raha hai.” Okay, maybe it doesn’t sound good in our voices. The composer says. “Singer ko bulate hain.” Let’s call the singer.

A few hours later, the male singer enters the booth. He sings the lines with deep emotion. His voice is smooth and perfect. He finishes and looks at the filmmaker through the glass.

The filmmaker still looks bored. “Gaana to accha gaaya, par gaane mein dum nahi hai.” He sang well, but the song doesn’t feel powerful.

Both composers are frustrated. There is another sad version of the song planned, and they were planning to have a different singer for it. Why not call the other singer too? This song is already on the chopping block. Last-ditch effort. They decide to call him.

The second singer shows up at the studio in a few days. He sings the same lines in his own unique style. It sounds like a guaranteed blockbuster.

“Ab toh pasand aaya hoga?” Do you like it now? The composer asks with a lot of hope.

“Nahi,” No, the filmmaker says bluntly. “Iss labz ka koi throw hi nahin hai.” There is no throw in this word.

The composer stands up, his face red with anger. Enough is enough.

“Aapko lagta hai yeh nahi chalega?” You think this won’t work? He shouts. “Agar yeh gana hit nahi hua, toh recording ka kharcha main dunga.” If this song is not a hit, I will pay the cost of the recording.

The room goes silent. The filmmaker looks surprised. He wasn’t expecting this reaction.

“Lekin,” But, the composer continues, “agar yeh hit ho gaya, toh aap mujhe double paise denge.” if it becomes a hit, then you will pay me double the money.

The filmmaker looks at the confident faces of the composer. He shrugs and says, “Theek hai, mujhe manzoor hai.” Okay, I agree.

The composer snaps back to the present. He can feel the weight of the double payment in his hand. He looks at the filmmaker and smiles.

“Maine kaha tha na,” I told you so, the composer says softly.

The filmmaker laughs and nods. The word he hated is now playing on every radio station in the country.

Sameer wrote the lyrics of the song Pardesi Pardesi in the film Raja Hindustani. The music was composed by Nadeem-Shravan, and the film was directed by Dharmesh Darshan. The film was produced by Karim Morani along with his partners at Cineyug, Ali Morani and Bunty Soorma. The first version of the song was sung by Udit Narayan, Alka Yagnik, and Sapna Awasthi. The second version was sung by Kumar Sanu and Alka Yagnik. In the film, the song was picturized on Aamir Khan and Karishma Kapoor.

Sameer, along with Nadeem-Shravan, was excited about this song and wanted to play it for Karim Morani. As soon as Karim Morani heard the word “Pardesi”, he felt it was a turn off for him. The word didn’t have a throw, and because of the way the tune was composed, it was sung as if it were made of two separate words. Nadeem felt that he could convince him by having Udit Narayan sing. When that didn’t work, he called Kumar Sanu to sing it. When that also did not work, he was irate. He told the producer that if the song does not become a big hit, he will pay for the entire expense incurred during the recording of the song. But if the song is a hit, the producer will pay him double.

At the 42nd Filmfare Awards in 1997, the film emerged as the biggest winner of the night, sweeping the major categories. The film won a total of five awards: Best Film, Best Actor (Aamir Khan), and Best Actress (Karisma Kapoor). Nadeem-Shravan won Best Music Director, and Udit Narayan took home Best Male Playback Singer specifically for the song Pardesi Pardesi.

Lyrics: Sameer
Music: Nadeem-Shravan
Singers (Version 1): Udit Narayan, Alka Yagnik
Singers (Version 2): Kumar Sanu, Alka Yagnik, Sapna Awasthi
*ing: Aamir Khan, Karishma Kapoor
Director: Dharmesh Darshan
Producer: Karim Morani
Film: Raja Hindustani (1996)

The filmmaker, lyricist, and the composer are in a sitting. Many songs have been decided. The lyricist and the composer have written them during their struggling days, just imagining different film situations and writing songs, with the hope that someday some filmmaker might want them.

This filmmaker has not just liked, but loved the songs. He has selected some of the choicest compositions and songs from their library that went very well with the situations in the film.

Now two new songs need to be written. The filmmaker starts describing the situation. The hero is sad. Circumstances have led the heroine and the hero to have split. They have grown apart, even geographically. She is now married to another man who loves her equally. But the first love is still burning in the hero’s and heroine’s hearts.

“Yeh sad situation hai. Heroine ghayal hai, hospital mein hai. Uska pati uski dekhbhal kar raha hai. Aur hero ko bhi woh usi waqt yaad aa rahi hai,” the filmmaker explains. This is a sad situation. The heroine is wounded, and in the hospital. Her husband is looking after her. And the hero is also remembering her at the same time.

The filmmaker looks at the composer, “Koi tune hai?” Do you have any tune.

The composer looks at the lyricist, “Yeh likh ke denge tab hi dhun banayenge.” If he writes something only then will a tune get made.

The filmmaker looks at the lyricist, “Koi hook word aa sakta hai kya?” Is it possible to have a hook word?

A hook word. A specific word or short phrase that functions as the core memory trigger of the song. It is usually repeated multiple times. It is emotionally distinctive and central to the title or the chorus of the song. Most importantly, it is easy to remember after just listening to the song only once. It is like the linguistic anchor of the song.

They start discussing the situation and see if a hook word emerges from that. The heroine’s husband is looking after her in the hospital. They start riffing on the situation and the emotions of the two men, the hero and the husband,

“Pati soch raha hai, kya woh theek hogi na?”, the lyricist says. The husband is thinking, will she recover alright?

“Hero bhi to kuch sochta hoga na”, the filmmaker adds. The hero must also be thinking something.

Something is taking shape in the lyricist’s mind, but he is not ready to share it yet. He is not sure if that is the hook phrase. It is a bit outside the norm. How to weave it into every line? So he keeps his thoughts to himself.

Suddenly another director walks into the room. Important enough to distract the filmmaker’s attention. Something needs to be attended to. The director takes stock of the situation that they are writing a song for.

“Bhai, yeh situation aisi hai na, jaise Roja ka gaana hai na, Roja janeman, aisa udaas hona chahiye,” he says to the lyricist. Brother, this situation is like that song from the film Roja, my beloved Roja, it needs to be sad like that.

The lyricist thinks about it and feels a flash of a thought come to him, almost as if a divine intervention.

He turns to the filmmaker. “Ek baat batao. Agar aap aur mein juda hotey hain, aur mein kahin aur chale gaya, kisi doosre shahar mein, kuch dinon ke liye, saalon ke liye, to kya hum rone waali baatein yaad karenge?” Tell me one thing. If you and I get separated, and say I went away somewhere, in some other city, for a few days, a few years, then are we going to remember things that will make us sad?

The filmmaker keeps his gaze fixed on the lyricist. The gears are starting to turn in his head.

The lyricist continues, “Ya hum ye baatein yaad karenge, ki yaad hai apun khana khane gaye thay? Yaad hai apun Juhu pe gaye thay, phir apni ice cream gir gayi, phir apun ne mitti se uthake, vagayra vagayra?” Or will we remember things like, remember that one time we went for dinner? Remember we went to Juhu, and our ice cream fell down, and then we tried to pick it up from the ground, etc., etc.?

“Haan aisa bhi ho sakta hai”, the filmmaker agrees. Yes, it can be like this also.

“Why not talk some good things?”, the lyricist reinforces.

The filmmaker sees the situation from a different angle.

“Mere zahen mein kuch hai. Mein mukhda likhta hoon,” the lyricist requests. I have something in my mind. Let me write the opening refrain.

The lyricist writes the mukhda and finds a way to weave in the hook phrase he had been thinking of. He presents it to the filmmaker. If the filmmaker approves the mukhda, then the antaras practically write themselves.

The rest of the song is already taking shape in the lyricist’s mind. Aisa hoga na? Waisa hoga na? Won’t it be like this? Won’t it be like that?

The filmmaker loves it, even the hook phrase, “hoga na?”. He hugs the lyricist.

In the next 30 minutes, the lyricist completes the entire song. In the following half hour, the composer sets the tune.

The team is so happy with the way the whole song has turned out.

The recording is scheduled with the male singer. He arrives at the studio. The female playback singer is also requested to lend her vocals to the alaap in the background.

The male singer takes a look at the lyrics. Something about this song is unusual. He reads it again, and again, and then again. This song does not follow the usual structure, where the refrain repeats after each stanza. It is one flowing narrative. Not a single line repeats. This is so unusual, he compliments the lyricist.

Mehboob wrote the lyrics of the song Jhoka Hawa Ka, and all the other songs of the film Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (1999), music by Ismail Darbar, story, screenplay, and direction by Sanjay Leela Bhansali. Aishwarya Rai, Ajay Devgn, and Salman Khan play the lead roles. The song is sung by Hariharan and Kavita Krishnamurthy.

Listen to the song carefully and realize that not a line is repeated. Such beautiful poetry and composition.

Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam was a blockbuster musical hit, and all the songs were immensely popular. The film also won Filmfare awards for: Best Film, Best Director (Sanjay Leela Bhansali), Best Actress (Aishwarya Rai), RD Burman Award (Ismail Darbar), Best Background Score (Anjan Biswas), Best Male Playback Singer (Udit Narayan for Chand Chupa), Best Choreography (Saroj Khan for Nimbooda), Best Art Direction (Nitin Desai), and nominations for Best Actor (Ajay Devgn, Salman Khan), Best Music Director (Ismail Darbar), Best Lyricist (Mehboob), Best Male Playback Singer (KK, Kumar Sanu), and Best Female Playback Singer (Alka Yagnik, Kavita Krishnamurthy).

Listen to Hariharan’s live performance in concert:

Also Hariharan’s rendition on MTV Unplugged is equally beautiful:

Lyrics: Mehboob
Music: Ismail Darbar
Singers: Hariharan, Kavita Krishnamurthy
*ing: Aishwarya Rai, Ajay Devgn, Salman Khan
Director: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Film: Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (1999)

The son, a gangly, wooden and gawky young man, provokes nothing but laughter. His dialogue delivery is a disaster. His physical movements are in a state of complete disarray.

In other words, this is a regulation Hindi masala film, with an inexperienced lead pair, that can only be saved by music.

The lead pair is in their 20s. The lead playback singers are in their 50s. The vocal stress at higher octaves is beginning to show on the female singer. The male singer’s voice has coarsened too, so much so that the heavy bass seems to dominate everything else at times. It is hampering the free flow one associated with his voice.

Given this the composition needs to be restrained and sober. The composer is aware of all this. He can no longer let his imagination run wild, with musicians and singers improving on the spot like they used to do in the ‘70s.

The guitarist is busy practicing in the studio, fiddling around the chords for the G-minor scale. The natural G-minor in its basic form is: G-A-B(flat)-C-D-E(flat)-F-G.

He keeps stringing the chord. All of a sudden, it strikes him that he could use the D-seventh instead. It seems to strengthen the harmonic pull back to G.

Instead of the D minor (D-F-A), he decides to play the D7 chord: D-F#-A-C.

The F# is not in the natural G-minor.

The guitarist is excited. The F# creates a tension and release and strongly resolves to G-minor.

This is one of the most common moves in Western music like classical jazz.

A tune seems to emerge based on the new chord progression: G-A-B(flat)-C-D-E(flat)-F#-G.

As the guitarist is engrossed in this, the composer walks into the room. He immediately gets busy with his own activities, but has one ear on the guitarist.

The guitarist, meanwhile, has figured out the entire song on the guitar.

“Dada, isko try karo,” the guitarist asks the composer. Dada, try this out.

He adds, “Yeh G-minor progression par based hai.” It is based on the G-minor progression.

The composer listens to it. He asks the guitarist to play it again.

“Lekin ismein G-minor kahan hai?” the composer asks, confused. Where is the G-minor?

“G-minor nahin hai. Khali ek bar shuruat mein hai,” the guitarist confesses. There is no G-minor. It’s touched upon once in the beginning.

The composer likes it a lot. “Haan, isko hi lete hain,” he tells the guitarist. Yes, let’s take this.

The playback singers arrive for the recording. The composer explains to them that there is a new tune for the song. They start rehearsals.

After one rehearsal, the female playback singer turns to the composer and says, “Thank you. Ye bahot acchi dhun banai hai.” Thank you. You have composed a very beautiful tune.

The composer deflects the praise towards the guitarist, “Don’t thank me, thank him.”

Bhanu Gupta, RD Burman’s core musician, composed the tune of Kya Yahi Pyar Hai in Rocky (1981), lyrics by Anand Bakshi, and playback by Lata Mangeshkar and Kishore Kumar. Sunil Dutt produced and directed Rocky as a launch vehicle for his son, Sanjay Dutt, and Tina Munim.

Rocky was released only a few days after the death of Nargis, Sunil Dutt’s wife and Sanjay’s mother. A chair was left vacant at the premiere of the film.

The songs of Rocky were a massive hit. Aa Dekhe Jara, Aao Mere Yaaron Aao, Doston Ko Salaam, and Hum Tumse Mile were all widely popular.

Sunil Dutt said in an interview that Pancham understood youth like no other music director did.

Music: Bhanu Gupta, RD Burman
Lyrics: Anand Bakshi
Singers: Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar
*ing: Sanjay Dutt, Tina Munim
Director: Sunil Dutt
Film: Rocky (1981)

Except this one song. It is a soulful track. The song was written by the lyricist while the filmmaker was describing the scene to him. It is about a son playing hide and seek with his mother, and with the sad reality that the son may be hidden forever. The composer, known for his global sounds, is ready with the melody. There is only one singer out there who can do justice to this song.

The filmmaker approaches the singer, a living legend in her late 70s. The composer prefers to record all his music in Chennai, but in this case, he is willing to come to Mumbai. After all, she is the legend. But the singer insists on flying to Chennai and record the song in his studio.

She arrives three days before the recording date to adjust to the different environment. Instead of resting at her hotel, she heads straight to the studio to meet the filmmaker and the composer.

“Mujhe dhun sunaiye, main abhi riyaz shuru karna chahti hoon,” the singer says to the composer. Play the tune for me, I want to start practicing right now.

For the next three days, the singer is inseparable from her Sony Walkman. She carries a cassette of the composition everywhere, listening to it repeatedly.

“Har note mere dil aur dimaag mein baith jaana chahiye,” she tells the filmmaker during the break. Every note must be engraved in my heart and mind.

On the day of the recording, the singer shows up early. She stands before the microphone, ready to pour her soul out about a mother’s grief.

For most singers, the composer would record one line at a time and then stitch them together. But this singer is adamant about recording full verses in one take. How else to make sure her voice reflects the right emotions? The downside is that there will be too many retakes.

Hours pass. It has been eight hours now, and the singer has been standing patiently for all those hours. The filmmaker is silently observing this and feeling guilty at the same time. How come they didn’t arrange for a chair?

They decide to take a break. The singer goes for a cup of tea and is right back after that.

Oh wait! Something is different inside the recording room. The microphone has been lowered, and there is a chair next to it. The singer looks at the setup and shakes her head.

“Mic itna neeche kyun hai? Isse upar kijiye,” the singer requests. Why is the mic so low? Please move it higher.

The filmmaker steps forward. “Aap thak jayengi, baith kar gaaiye,” he suggests softly. You will get tired, please sit and sing.

“Main baith kar nahi gaa sakti. Khade rehne se hi awaaz sahi nikalti hai,” she explains firmly. I cannot sing while sitting. My voice comes out properly only when I stand.

The filmmaker doesn’t want to argue. He calls the crew to restore the original setup. The recording continues. As she sings, the pain of a mother just comes pouring out. Everyone in the studio is in tears.

Lata Mangeshkar sang Luka Chuppi in the film Rang De Basanti. The music was composed by AR Rahman, and the lyrics were written by Prasoon Joshi. The film was produced and directed by Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra. The song plays in the background during the cremation services of one of the characters, played by Madhavan, who dies in a plane accident. Waheeda Rehman, Aamir Khan, and several other actors are part of the group attending his final rites.

AR Rahman wanted the music of the film to sound like the voice of the youth. To achieve this, he intentionally chose fresh or unconventional voices for many of the tracks. Naresh Iyer was the biggest discovery for this film. Rahman found him during a talent hunt on a television show. Naresh ended up singing lead vocals for Roobaroo and Paathshala. For the title track, Rahman chose Daler Mehndi. He wanted a high-energy, powerful Punjabi voice. For the emotional song of the film, Luka Chuppi, Rahman and the filmmaker agreed that only a legendary voice would work. This led them to approach Lata Mangeshkar.

Even at the age of 76, Lata Mangeshkar insisted that she wanted to sing the song standing upright since that’s how you get the best voice out of you. In spite of standing for over eight hours, she still refused to sit down.

AR Rahman won the Filmfare Best Music Director Award, and had two of its songs, Khalbali and Luka Chuppi, considered for an Academy Award for Best Original Song nomination.

Lyrics: Prasoon Joshi
Music: AR Rahman
Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
*ing: Waheeda Rehman, Aamir Khan
Producer/Director: Rakeysh Om Prakash Mehra
Film: Rang De Basanti (2006)

Normally, at this point, the song is on its way to the filmmaker for filming to proceed.

So the lyricist is surprised to get a phone call from the composer.

“I need a female voice in this song, in between the antaras (stanzas),” the composer says from the other side.

“I need a ‘pa’ sounding word. Can you give me something?”, the composer continues.

The lyricist pauses to think. The composer pauses to let the lyricist think. They both have a deep respect for the creative process. It must not be hurried.

The composer expects the lyricist to come back to him in a day or two. He is ready to hang up the phone and get on to other things.

The pause is a little long. The composer realizes the lyricist is thinking rather deeply. He does not want to propose ending the conversation. So he continues to hold.

The lyricist takes a breath. The composer can hear it on the other side.

After a minute, which must have felt like a year, the lyricist suggests three words, all beginning with the sound ‘pa’.

“Do these words have any meaning, or are they just sounds?”, the composer asks. He is not well versed in Hindi.

The lyricist explains that the first word, which repeats as the second word, is Sanskrit and Bengali for bird. The third word suggests it is a migratory bird.

“Another interpretation might suggest that we’re talking of a bird from a foreign land that is bound to return home one day,” explains the lyricist.

The composer is overjoyed. He promptly records the words in a female voice and not only inserts it in between the antaras, but also starts off the song with them.

Gulzar wrote the lyrics for Ae Ajnabi Tu Bhi Kabhi and other songs of the film Dil Se (1998), music by AR Rehman, written and directed by Mani Ratnam. Shah Rukh Khan and Manisha Koirala play the lead roles. The song is sung by Udit Narayan and Mahalakshmi Iyer.

Gulzar gave the words “Paakhi paakhi pardesi” right there on the phone to Rahman.

Watch this song performed live in concert.

Lyrics: Gulzar
Music: AR Rahman
Singers: Udit Narayan, Mahalakshmi Iyer
*ing: Shah Rukh Khan, Manisha Koirala
Director: Mani Ratnam
Film: Dil Se (1998)

In due course the film is released. The superstar settles into his seat at the premier. The title credits start to roll and he sits up to take notice. Who is singing? And what a voice, this bass grunt and raspy feel is unheard of. Then as the film proceeds, the cabaret song comes on the screen. The cabaret queen serenading on the dance floor with a male extra. Again that rough, gravelly voice, a mix of baritone and tenor, playful, but with unconventional modulation conveying raw, almost animal-like intensity and emotion. Who is singing? For the rest of the film, this is the only question swirling in his mind.

At the end of the screening, while everyone tries to throng around the superstar to compliment him, he reaches out to the composer. He asks about the male voice in the title credits and the cabaret song. Who sang that? Whose voice is that?

The composer informs him that the owner of that voice was none other than himself.

“You must sing for me in one of my films,” the superstar requests.

“Sure,” the composer replies. “I promise. Sometime in the future I will compose a song and use my voice for you,” he assures.

That opportunity presents itself soon enough. One of the ten films the superstar is shooting in parallel has a sequence where the superstar must don a disguise and enter the villainous hideout. They must not recognize him. So why not give the superstar a different voice?

The composer informs the superstar that this song would be a perfect opportunity to use his own voice, instead of the usual and popular playback singer.

The superstar is excited. This seems like a reasonable situation. It would be a big departure. It would be unexpected for the audience who has grown accustomed to hearing the popular playback singer deliver one hit song after another for the superstar. It has been an amazing troika of a partnership - the superstar, the playback singer, and the composer.

The song is composed and rehearsals proceed. The superstar attends all the rehearsals, not waiting to show his presence for just the final recording.

At one of the rehearsals, the superstar feels unsure. Perhaps cronies hanging around him have planted the seeds of doubt.

Why mess with what’s been working? Why give the audience something different than they are used to? If even one song of his film is a dud, his superstar status might be in jeopardy. Why risk it? Why change? Just stick with the formula. Keep giving people what they want.

The superstar takes the composer to one side.

“I don’t think you should sing for me,” he tells the composer.

The composer is confused. The superstar had been so eager and excited to have his voice for playback. What happened all of a sudden?

He rubs his chin and thinks for a while.

“I understand you are feeling nervous. But look at the situation,” he tells the superstar. “You are not in your normal hero look. You are in disguise. So the audience will understand why you have a different voice.”

The superstar is still skeptical. But he doesn’t have a good reason and argument as to why he just wants to stick with the tried and tested.

“I don’t know how cine-goers will react. You don’t know how they will react. What if they find all this too quirky and bizarre?” The superstar pushes his case.

“Look, don’t worry,” the composer responds. He adds, “This is going to be an unconventional song and it is going to jolt your fans. Take it from me. It will become a cult song.”

The superstar relents seeing the conviction and confidence of the composer. And the composer is eventually proved right.

RD Burman composed and sang the song Duniya Mein Logon Ko for the film Apna Desh (1972), lyrics by Anand Bakshi. The film is a remake of a 1969 Telugu film and directed by CP Jambulingam. Rajesh Khanna, Mumtaz are in lead roles. The female playback is provided by Asha Bhosle.

RD used his raspy voice for the opening credits of The Train (1970) and also the song O Meri Jaan (duet with Asha Bhosle), which made many people take notice and ask who was singing in this unusual voice.

RD demonstrated complete control of the sur and taal despite his heavy palpations and voice modulation. Even though he sang in a gravelly husky voice the words were clearly pronounced.

It is said that fans went crazy when this song came on in theaters. Apna Desh was the first film to ever screen at Samrat Talkies in Goregaon, Mumbai.

The guitar portion of the song around 3:06 is sampled from the song Jingo by Santana around 0:58.

Watch Pancham da and Asha ji singing the song live on Doordarshan.

Singers: RD Burman, Asha Bhosle
Music: RD Burman
Lyrics: Anand Bakshi
*ing: Rajesh Khanna, Mumtaz
Director: CP Jambulingam
Film: Apna Desh (1972)

The lead actor doesn’t waste any time. He reaches Bombay and immediately sets up meetings with various producers and directors.

Lead Actor: “Yeh gaana suniye, ismein kuch alag baat hai.” Listen to this song. There is something special about it. It is the 90s. The melody in the Hindi film industry has just made a comeback now, after the terrible 80s.

The filmmakers are not impressed. “Gaana toh achha hai, par yeh humare yahan nahi chalega. Yeh thoda zyada British pop sa lag raha hai.” The song is good, but it won’t work here. It sounds a bit too much like British pop. He repeatedly hears the same feedback. He keeps trying. But no luck.

6 years pass by.

The lead actor is now preparing for a new film. This time, the filmmaker is his own brother. It’s like a home production. The lead actor knows very well that this is the perfect moment.

Lead Actor: “Ab sahi waqt hai. Hum woh gaana apni film mein istemal karenge.” Now is the right time. We will use that song in our film.

Filmmaker: “Theek hai, agar tumhe lagta hai yeh chalega, toh hum composers aur lyricist se baat karte hain.” Okay, if you think this will work, then we will talk to the composers and the lyricist.

There are three sets of composers and lyricists for this film. No compromise when it comes to music. They know which composer will be well-suited for this song.

They meet with the duo-composers and the lyricist. The lead actor plays the song from the same CD he brought from London. They all love the tune. No changes there. The lyricist feels the words could use an update to match the film. It doesn’t take too long to make those changes. They call the original singer from London. He is already famous back in the UK now since the song was released as a single and has now achieved platinum status. He arrives in Bombay and completes the recording.

Next, the crew meets at Madh Island to shoot the music video. The lead actor is known for his incredible physique. He has spent years in the gym, and that has changed the image of the Bollywood hero. As a result, everyone feels pressured to have muscles these days to succeed as a hero.

On the set, the lead actor tries to put on the t-shirt required during the song. He has recently gained even more muscle due to a strict workout schedule.

The t-shirt clings to his body like it is part of it. Also, it is quite short. His belly button is exposed. “Yeh kya t-shirt hai! Yeh mujh par blouse jaisi lag rahi hai.” Look at this t-shirt! It looks like a blouse on me.

The entire crew is there, ready to shoot. Getting another custom-fitted t-shirt is next to impossible. The filmmaker has signs of worry on his face. "Hamare paas dusri t-shirt laane ka waqt nahi hai. Ab kya karein?" We don't have time to order another t-shirt. What do we do now?

The lead actor is not that worried. He is known to show off his body. “Ek kaam karte hain. Mein bina shirt ke shooting kar leta hoon.” Let’s do one thing. I will shoot the song without a shirt.

The filmmaker is not amused. Even though he is younger than the lead actor, he is worried about the audience. “Bina shirt ke? Pata nahi Indian audience ise kaise dekhegi.” Without a shirt? I don’t know how the Indian audience will react to this.

The elder brother inside the lead actor comes out. “Tu chinta mat kar bhai. Sab theek ho jayega. Log bilkul pasand karenge.” Don’t worry, brother. Everything will be fine. People will absolutely like it.

Kamaal Khan provided the male playback voice for the song O O Jaane Jaana in the film Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya. The music was composed by Jatin-Lalit, and the lyrics were written by Sameer. The film was produced and directed by Sohail Khan, and the lead actor was Salman Khan.

Salman Khan and Kamaal Khan knew each other through their social circles and had struck a deep friendship. On one of his visits, Kamaal Khan gave Salman Khan a recording of the original version of O O Jaane Jaana. Salman Khan loved it and wanted to use it in one of his upcoming films. He faced a lot of resistance from the filmmakers of that era due to the song sounding like British pop. While the Hindi film industry was rejecting the song, it was officially produced and released as an independent single in the UK in 1996. It became a massive hit there, which finally gave Salman Khan the proof of concept he needed to convince his brother, Sohail Khan, to use it in Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya.

This is the original version of the song that Kamaal Khan produced as a single.

The music for Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya was composed by Jatin–Lalit, Himesh Reshammiya, and Sajid–Wajid. The lyrics for all tracks by Jatin–Lalit were written by Sameer, the lyrics for Himesh Reshammiya’s tracks were written by Sudhakar Sharma, and the lyrics for Sajid–Wajid’s track was written by Iqbal Sabri. For the fast-paced song O O Jaane Jaana, Sohail and Salman Khan decided to go with Jatin-Lalit and Sameer.

There was also a wardrobe malfunction incident during the shoot when the t-shirt, which was custom-made for Salman Khan, did not fit him. With no quick alternative, Salman Khan convinced Sohail Khan that he should go shirtless. Thus started the era of Salman Khan, where he would appear shirtless frequently in his subsequent films and concerts.

At the 44th Filmfare Awards, Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya received seven nominations, including Best Film, Best Director (Sohail Khan), Best Actor (Salman Khan), and Best Supporting Actor (Arbaaz Khan). Kamaal Khan won the RD Burman Award for New Music Talent for O O Jaane Jaana.

Singer: Kamaal Khan
Music: Jatin-Lalit
Lyrics: Sameer
*ing: Salman Khan
Producer/Director: Sohail Khan
Film: Pyar Kiya To Darna Kya (1998)

A filmmaker from South India travels to Bombay with a script and a briefcase.

He meets the lead actor and makes him an offer that he can’t refuse. “Main aapko is film ke liye dhai lakh rupaye dena chahta hoon. Ye aapka signing amount hai.” I want to give you 2.5 lakh rupees as a signing amount for this film.

The lead actor is stunned. It is a massive amount of money. He feels good about his stardom. That dream house seems a lot closer now. Without reading a single page of the script, he takes the cash and pays the down payment for his dream home.

A few days later, the lead actor finds the script still sitting on the coffee table and finally decides to read it. His heart sinks. What are these animals doing? The plot feels outdated and totally out of sync with his Hindi film fan audience. Since this is a remake of a Tamil film, they have hired this young duo writer team to write the screenplay. They are just starting their career. The lead actor immediately reaches out to them.

“Agar maine yeh film ki, toh mera career khatam ho jayega.” If I do this film, my career will be over. He almost pleads with the writer team.

“Aur agar maine paise waapas kiye to ghar haath se nikal jayega.” And if I return the signing amount then I lose my dream house. He continues pleading.

The writers decide to give it a read. How bad can it be? They both read the script, and they can’t believe it. It is awful. This will be a suicide for the lead actor’s career. They all decide to go and meet the filmmaker.

The filmmaker loves animals, and they were in the original Tamil version. He insists that the animals have to stay in the film. The writing team stands their ground and wants to get rid of the animals to write a story for the budding superstar. The filmmaker shoots it down. That is a non-starter. The writers go back and start whispering their counteroffer.

“Humein hero ke saath chaar haathi manzoor hain, lekin baki sab badalna hoga.” We accept your hero and four elephants, but everything else must change. The writers put down their offer firmly.

The filmmaker agrees. The writers go back and rewrite the entire screenplay to make it emotional and modern for the Hindi-speaking audience. They make room for the elephants, too. Now, the film needs a soul. It needs music.

The lead actor goes to the studio to meet the duo of composers and the lyricist. They need a title song that captures the friendship between a man and his elephants.

The lead actor tells the lyricist. “Gana aisa hona chahiye jo sabko jhumne par majboor kar de.” The song should be such that it forces everyone to dance.

The lyricist writes simple but catchy words. The composers create a rhythm that matches the heavy, rhythmic footsteps of an elephant.

The singer is brought in to give the song its playful energy. He adds his signature style, making the song feel like a conversation between friends. Except the friends are animals here.

You can watch the actual video of the song here on YouTube.

Rajesh Khanna played the lead actor role in the film Haathi Mere Saathi. Anand Bakshi wrote the lyrics of the song Chal Chal Mere Saathi, Laxmikant Pyarelal composed the music, and Kishore Kumar provided the playback. Chinnappa Thevar wrote the story for the Tamil version of the film, Deiva Cheyal, and also produced the Hindi version of the film. Salim-Javed were the screenplay writers. This was their debut film.

Rajesh Khanna had quickly climbed the ladder of stardom with hits such as Aradhana and Do Raaste. As a result, all producers were reaching out to him, including the ones from the South. In order to entice him into their films, they were offering large signing amounts to lock him in their films.

Chinnappa Thevar, a producer from South, did the same and gave Rajesh Khanna 2.5 lakh rupees as a signing amount. Rajesh Khanna had his eye on Rajendra Kumar’s bungalow that was up for sale, but did not have sufficient cash on hand. This signing amount helped him to close on that house. Unfortunately, he did not read the script before doing this. Once he read the script, he realized how awful it was and did not match his persona as a romantic superstar. But it was too late since he had used up all the money and had no other option.

He reached out to Salim-Javed, who were starting their writing career with this film. They both agreed with Rajesh Khanna on the quality of the script. They were able to negotiate most parts with Chinnappa Thevar, except for a few elephants. They decided to make it a film about the friendship between the lead actor and his elephants. Based on this concept, Laxmikant Pyarelal worked with Anand Bakshi to create the title song.

The film’s music on HMV won a Silver Disc for its sales, making it the first-ever Indian gramophone record to do so.

Singer: Kishore Kumar
Music: Laxmikant Pyarelal
Lyrics: Anand Bakshi
*ing: Rajesh Khanna, Tanuja
Producer: Chinnappa Thevar
Screenplay: Salim-Javed
Film: Haathi Mere Saathi (1971)

“Yeh labz theek nahi lag rahe hain,” says the composer. These words do not feel right.

The lyricist quickly writes down another version and shows it to him.

“Iske baare mein kya khayaal hai?” asks the lyricist. What about this one?

The composer shakes his head, signaling his disapproval. He is still not satisfied. Nothing is working out here in the studio. The composer tells everyone to pack up for the day. They both decide to leave the studio and head over to the composer’s house. The plan is to work late into the night. They iterate for hours, but the perfect tune is still out of reach.

By late evening of the next day, something sparks in the composer’s mind. For some reason, an old folk song keeps coming back. It is an old folk song from Uttar Pradesh. Born in Lucknow, this one is especially close to his heart. A song about love that screams defiance.

“Ek kaam karo. Iss lok geet ke alfaz aur dhun ko dhyan se suno.” the composer suggests. Do one thing. Listen carefully to the words and tune of this song.

The lyricist listens to the song. The spirit is there, but the words need to be polished. He adapts the simple folk language to match the dignity of a royal Mughal court. Finally, they have it.

“Ab yeh sahi hai,” says the composer after listening to the new lyrics. Now this is the right one.

They invite the female singer to the studio. She practices her lines, and the initial rehearsals sound amazing. The filmmaker enters the room from the back and listens quietly.

The composer and lyricist turn to the filmmaker and tacitly try to get his impression of what they just heard. “Gaana bahut accha hai, lekin…” the filmmaker takes a pause there. The song is very good, but…

The filmmaker has explained the situation, but he still knows something that the music team does not know yet. He goes into the details of the set. This song will be filmed in a magnificent Sheesh Mahal —a palace of mirrors which will be built inside a fort. In fact the set will be so spectacular that he wants this song to be recorded in Technicolor.

“Aap sab samajh hi gaye honge. Mujhe is gaane mein ek gehri goonj chahiye.” the filmmaker explains. You all must have understood by now. I want a deep echo in this.

The composer realizes that a standard studio recording will sound too flat for a song that needs a massive, open palace. The technology that he has in the recording room is very basic and cannot produce what the filmmaker wants.

He starts looking around. The only option is to break the walls of the studio and expand. Then it strikes him. Of course. He goes to another adjoining room that has these shiny tiles. That should reflect some of the sound. He calls the singer over to that room.

“Zara yahan do linen gaakar sunao.” The singer obliges. There is definitely reverberation. The composer looks pleased. He rushes to a few more rooms as he needs varying degrees of reverberation throughout the song. All rooms produce a different variant of the depth needed.

“Aapko alag alag kamron mein gaana hoga.” the composer tells the singer. You will have to sing in different rooms. “Wahan se awaaz goonj kar aayegi,” the composer says as he adjusts the microphone. The sound will echo back from there.

The singer performs the song from a distance, her voice bouncing off the walls to create the grand echo that defines the character’s love for the prince as well as her rebellion against the emperor.

Naushad composed the song Jab Pyar Kiya To Darna Kya for the film Mughal-E-Azam. The lyrics were written by Shakeel Badayuni and the film was produced/directed by K. Asif. The playback was provided by Lata Mangeshkar and the song was picturized on Madhubala as Anarkali. During the song, Prithviraj Kapoor as Shahenshah Akbar and Dilip Kumar as Shehzaada Salim are in the court as Madhubala performs her dance routine.

K. Asif wanted to recreate the Sheesh Mahal (Palace of Mirrors) at Lahore Fort. At a time when entire films were made for less than ₹10 lakhs, this single set cost an estimated ₹15 lakhs. There was a technical challenge with the set. The set was made of thousands of small mirrors imported from Belgium. When the crew first tried to light it, the mirrors reflected the studio lights so intensely that they blinded the cameras and created hot spots. To capture the shimmering effect without overexposing the shot, the cinematographer, R.D. Mathur, spent days experimenting. He eventually decided to use strips of cloth to bounce and soften the light, and also used thin wax coatings on some mirrors to manage the glare.

Shakeel Badayuni wrote and discarded several drafts before arriving at the final lyrics. Naushad picked a folk song Prem Kiya, Kya Chori Kari Hai which was popular in Uttar Pradesh and decided to use its tune. Shakeel Badayuni transformed the lyrics into a defiant song of rebellion against the Emperor. In order to create the effect of an echoing voice, Naushad used different rooms with reflective tiles to achieve that. Something that is taken for granted in today’s world by the composers using the latest technology during recording.

K. Asif filmed one reel of Mughal-e-Azam, including the song Pyar Kiya To Darna Kya, in Technicolor. Impressed by the result, he filmed three more reels in Technicolor, near the story’s climax. After seeing them, he sought a complete re-shoot in Technicolor, but financiers refused. K. Asif subsequently released Mughal-e-Azam partially coloured, although he still hoped to see the full film in color.

This is Lata Mangeshkar singing the same song in a concert.

Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
Music: Naushad
Lyrics: Shakeel Badayuni
*ing: Madhubala, Dilip Kumar, Prithviraj Kapoor
Producer/Director: K. Asif
Film: Mughal-e-Azam (1960)

The female singer is also there at the rehearsals. She makes a request to the arranger: “Dada, ye gaana please add kijiye, Piya Tose Naina Laage Re. Mujhe ye gaana bahot pasand hai.” Dada, please add this song, Piya Tose Naina Laage Re. I like this song a lot.

The arranger is not happy with this request. He makes it known: “Aisa kaisa add kijiye. Abhi iska notation aur music bhi nahin hai.” How can we just add it. We don’t have the notation and music for this song.

The young chap playing the octopad is watching this interaction. The composer is also watching it from the corner of his eye to see what happens.

The young chap jumps in: “Dada, mein music bataoon? Mere ko poora music maloom hai.” Dada, shall I tell the music? I know the whole music by heart.

The arranger is surprised. “Tere ko poora music maloom hai is gaane ka?” Do you know the entire music of this song?

The young chap nods in affirmation. The song is a classical song with the tabla as the main instrument. He asks for permission to play the tabla.

The composer is now perked up to see what this young chap is going to do. Without letting anyone know that he is taking interest in the proceedings, he pays attention.

The young man sings the entire music, playing the tabla along as appropriate, right from the mukhda, to the interlude music, to the antaras, including the chorus, all the way to the conclusion of the song, in proper rhythm. He also interjects to tell them which instrument is playing what.

The arranger is flabbergasted. So is the composer. In the next few minutes the arranger quickly scribbles the notation for the song. The keyboard player quickly takes down the notes for his piece in the song.

The composer is stunned. This young guy who plays the octopad can play classical on the tabla as well, and on top of that he knows the detailed music of the song! He shares his surprise: “Ae tu tabla bhi bajata hai?” Hey you play the tabla as well?

The young chap touches his ears and replies: “Dada mein seekha hoon Ustad Allah Rakha sahab se. Mein unka shagird hoon." Dada, I have learnt from Ustad Alla Rakha sir. I am his disciple.

After they rehearse a few more songs from the concert list, the female singer makes another request: “Dada ek aur gaana lete hain, Tune O Rangeele Kaisa Jaadu Kiya. Didi ka gaana hai. Mujhe bahot pasand hai.” Dada let’s take one more song, Tune O Rangeele Kaisa Jaadu Kiya. This is Didi’s song. I like this song very much.

Again, the arranger is displeased. “Iska bhi music nahin hai. Aisa tum achanak kaisa bolta hai?” The music of this song is also not ready. How can you say this suddenly?

But this time the arranger looks at the young chap. The young chap knows the question not asked and replies, “Iska bhi music by heart hai mereko, prelude music, interlude music, sab kuch.” I know the music of this song also by heart, prelude music, interlude music, everything.

Hearing this the arranger is angered. “Isko to sab kuch kaise maaloom hai?” How come this guy knows everything? The arranger has a preset list of songs that they have decided. Now that list is being thrown to the wind, and this guy seems to know the music of all songs, making it too easy to disturb his list.

So the young guy tells the entire music of this song as well, including the harmony.

The composer is at a loss of words. He somehow manages to ask: “Mera aur mere Baba ka sab gaana tumko yaad hai?” You know the music for all of my and my father’s songs?

The young man replies: “Dada, bachpan se leke aaj tak sirf aap ka hi music suna hai. Aur mere khoon mein aapke gaane daudte hain.” Dada, right from childhood I have only listened to your songs. And your music runs in my blood.

The composer is in disbelief: “Accha? Music bhi by heart hai aur rhythm bhi by heart hai?” Is that so? You know the music and also the rhythm by heart?

The young man nods affirmatively. The composer is overjoyed to hear this. He realizes this young man is a special talent. From that day onwards, the young man gains entry into the composer’s small core team of special musicians. The composer starts having a soft corner for the young man as someone who knows his style and knows everything about all his songs.

Fast forward many years. The composer has fallen on hard times in the industry. Time has passed him by. Work is down to a drip. A film has come his way. He is determined to give his best to this film. The filmmaker is very exacting in his requirements for music. He has rejected many of his tunes for songs of the film.

The composer and his team are in the midst of rehearsals and recording for one particular song that is going to be recorded.

The entire morning shift is spent in rehearsals. A lunch break is announced. The musicians leave to grab a bite. The composer, the arranger, the young man, and the recordist at the studio wait back to do some last remaining touches on the arranging.

Before the final recording, they decide on the placement of the instruments. This tabla will be on one side. That tabla will be on the back on this side. One is high pitched and the other is low pitched. These two tablas are going to play a special sound in the song. A stick is going to be hit on the surface of the tabla to create a reverberating sound. Two other tablas that will be played by hand will be in the back.

The placement of all the instruments is decided painstakingly to the composer’s satisfaction. After completing all this, they decide to step out for lunch.

The filmmaker is a few steps in front of them. The young man says to the composer: “Dada ye gaana, aapne to pura gaana udhar ka de diya.” Dada, about this song, you have taken this completely from another song.

The composer doesn’t know what the young man is talking about. He asks, “Kaunsa gaana?” Which song?

The young man sings part of the other song, “Heera To Pehle Hi Kisi Aur Ka Ho Chuka”, and then sings the refrain of this song.

The composer is not surprised this young guy knows. After all he knows everything about all his songs. But he reprimands him in jest so that the filmmaker does not hear, “Chup baith, bahot mushkil se ye gaana pass hua hai. Saale marwa dega tu mereko.” Keep quiet, this song has gotten approved with great difficulty. You will get me killed.

RD Burman composed the song, Kyon Naye Lag Rahe, and the music for his grand finale, 1942: A Love Story (1994), directed and produced by Vidhu Vinod Chopra, and starring Manisha Koirala and Anil Kapoor in lead roles. The lyrics are written by Javed Akhtar. The song is sung by Kavita Krishnamurthy.

The tune of Kyon Naye Lag Rahe is directly taken from RD’s other song Panna Ki Tamanna from the film Heera Panna starring Dev Anand and Zeenat Aman.

If you listen to the song Kyon Naye Lag Rahe, you will hear a ‘trrrrrrr’ reverberating sound before “Chupke Se”. It is made by playing a stick on a tabla. Only RD!

Nitin Shankar was RD’s percussionist and played instruments such as the octopad, tabla, and dholak. He was one of the rhythm arrangers for Sholay. He was part of RD’s core team of musicians. Shankar has worked as a rhythm arranger on many superhit films such as Baazigar, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, Devdas, Veer-Zaara, Black, Omkara, Rocky Aur Rani Ki Prem Kahani, among many others.

The newfound appreciation that RD gained for Nitin Shankar was when they were rehearsing for the live concert tour of South Africa. Kavita Krishnamurthy sang the female numbers. Manohari Singh was RD’s primary arranger.

Music: RD Burman
Arrangers: Manohari Singh, Nitin Shankar
Lyrics: Javed Akhtar
Singer: Kavita Krishnamurthy
*ing: Manisha Koirala
Director: Vidhu Vinod Chopra
Film: 1942: A Love Story

The lights at the Filmfare stage are blinding. The composer is slowly climbing the steps. One after another. Ok, so this is how the audience looks like from the other side when you stand on the podium. The composer accepts the award, turns around, and reaches for the microphone. He is soaking in the moment. This has been quite a journey.

“Ye bees seediyan chadhne ke liye, mujhe bees saal lag gaye.” It took me 20 years to climb these 20 steps.

Twenty steps. Twenty years.

The applause begins, but he is no longer there. He drifts back to the evening it all began.

Juhu Beach, 1992

The Silver Disc function at the Juhu Centaur Hotel is winding down. All the music greats are there, and the best among them are being felicitated. The composer stands at the edge of the room, watching. He is newly married. His father, the great composer at one point, is now without work. Legacy does not pay bills. The composer has done some great work in the past, but the music in the 90s is very different. It is a dry spell for him.

He notices one of the producers is walking towards him. Not just a producer but also a music mogul. He puts his hand on the composer’s shoulder and begins to speak. He has a new film in the works. A new male and female actor. A thriller. A bit dark with the lead actor being the antihero. Unlike anything Bollywood has seen.

“Kya meri film ka music doge?” the producer asks. Will you compose music for my film?

The composer has a puzzled look. He has enough connections in the industry to know that there is already a composer selected. In fact, they are the hottest duo composers of that era. One hit after another.

“Maine suna hai ki aapne kissi aur music director ko sign kar liya hai.” I have heard that you have signed someone else as a composer. The composer wants to confirm before he says yes or no.

The producer is expecting this question. “Haan, kiya to tha par unke saath kuch jama nahin. Ye film thodi hatkar hai aur tumhare jaisa hi koi composer chhaiye.” Yes, we did sign someone, but it didn’t work out. This is a different kind of film, and we need a composer like you.

“Theek hai. Aisi baat hai to main tayyar hoon.” If that’s the case then I am ready. The composer wants to hide his giddiness. It’s been so long since he has done any meaningful work, and now this opportunity, and that too working with this music mogul.

The composer decides to leave and break the news to his wife quickly. He looks at the front gate of the hotel, and there is quite a big crowd there. That reminds him of the traffic on Juhu Tara Road at this hour. His apartment is just 20 minutes away. But can you even get an auto at this time, and how long will it take him? He looks on the other side. Just a wall and a beach behind. He could just run along the beach. He decides to do that. A quick jump over the wall. He lands on the sand.

The Arabian Sea is spread out before him. The night wind hits his face. He starts walking, almost running, towards home. The title of the film has been bothering him a bit. There will be a need for a title song composition. He assumes. But the word. It has three syllables. Not friendly enough for a melody.

He begins playing in his head. Not a melody yet. Just the word. A single word in a rhythmic form. He says it in different tones. Another part of his brain is playing the dholak or the virtual beats as he mutters the word. Slowly, the melody starts taking shape. He is humming now, loudly, not caring who hears him on this empty beach. He is composing a song while running on the beach for a film story he has not yet read, for an actor and actress he has barely met.

He reaches home. His wife opens the door. Before she can speak, he says, “Ek nayi film mili hai.” I just got a new film.

He can’t even look at her straight, his eyes hunting for the harmonium. Finally, he sees it. The maid must have moved it from its regular spot while cleaning. He sits down and begins to play.

A few days later, the composer sits across from the producer and the duo-directors. He plays them the composition. The same melody that came to him on the beach.

The two directors exchange a look. The kind of look that passes between two people who have been working together long enough to speak without words. The producer says nothing for a moment. And then he smiles. He knows he did the right thing.

39th Filmfare Awards, 1994

The applause dies down. The composer looks content. He is on top of the world.

Anu Malik composed the song Baazigar O Baazigar and the rest of the songs for the film Baazigar. The film was produced by Ratan Jain and directed by Abbas-Mustan. The lyrics were penned by Nawab Arzoo. The playback was provided by Alka Yagnik and Kumar Sanu. The song was picturized on Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol.

Deepak Tijori initially proposed to Abbas-Mustan to make a Hindi remake of the English film A Kiss Before Dying. He had hopes that they would cast him, but Abbas-Mustan had other ideas. Abbas-Mustan went to every big hero of the time - Aamir Khan, Salman Khan, and Akshay Kumar, but all said no. They couldn’t risk their hero or romantic images. They narrated the story to Shah Rukh Khan and expected him to come back after a few days, but he agreed immediately.

Initially, Nadeem-Shravan were brought in as the composer after their big hits with Ashiqui, Saajan, and Dil Hai Ke Maanta Nahin. But they had an issue about doing this film with Kajol due to some prior differences. Abbas-Mustan had already decided on Kajol, so instead they decided to replace the composer. This is where Ratan Jain, one of the founders of Venus Music, who was also the producer of the film, reached out to Anu Malik.

Anu Malik’s career was going up and down like a roller coaster, and at that point was at its lowest point. He was struggling to get films as a composer due to the popularity of the new style of music that Nadeem-Shravan and Anand-Milind were able to deliver.

The mukhda of the song Baazigar O Baazigar was composed while Anu Malik was walking back home through the beach route. He had an issue with the word Baazigar since it was hard to use as a word in a melodies but managed to come up with a composition that enthralled both Abbas-Mustan and Ratan Jain.

Anu Malik won his first Filmfare Award for Best Music Director for Baazigar.

This is Alka Yagnik and Kumar Sanu singing the song in a live concert.

Lyrics: Nawaab Arzoo
Music: Anu Malik
*ing: Shah Rukh Khan, Kajol
Singers: Alka Yagnik, Kumar Sanu
Director: Abbas-Mustan
Producer: Ratan Jain
Film: Baazigar (1993)

With such a stellar and massive starcast on board, the pressure starts to build with every passing day of the film’s planning. The word has spread that this might be the biggest star cast ever assembled. A casting coup of sorts. And how did the young filmmaker pull this off?

As the music is being discussed, the music composer duo start to wonder how will they pull off some of the songs, which practically have every leading actor and actress singing. The lyricist is also in a quandary. How will he write for such a generationally and demographically diverse group of characters all singing a few lines in the song?

The filmmaker has no time to waste. Either you are delivering what he wants or you are out. For a young filmmaker, this takes guts. He sees the hesitation in the music department, and makes changes. The music composer duo is still on board to compose a few songs. But he brings in new composers to do a song or two.

Meanwhile, the biggest superstar invites the lyricist for a meeting.

“Bhaiya, ek kaam kariye, ye gaana jo hai na, aap solo likh dijiye,” he instructs the lyricist. Brother, do one thing, this song, you write it as a solo.

It is a simple, polite request. But coming from the biggest superstar, the lyricist knows it is more than a simple request.

The lyricist is confused. The brief he has gotten from the filmmaker is quite different. He shares his understanding of the song.

“Arre dada, lekin ismein to usne bola ki itne log gayenge,” the lyricist replies. But sir, he has told me that there will be many people singing in this song.

The superstar dismisses the lyricist’s response.

“Arre nahin nahin. Us sasure ko mein theek karta hoon. Aap solo likh dijiye. Mein usko convince karunga.” The superstar insists. Oh no no. I will set him straight (referring to the filmmaker). You write it as a solo. I will convince him.

The lyricist is left with no choice but to agree.

“Theek hai, sir, “ he replies. Yes, sir.

The lyricist comes back home, and over the next day or two, he writes the song as a solo song for the superstar.

Everyone gets together for the music sitting, the lyricist, the superstar, the filmmaker, and the new music composer.

The composer starts playing the tune that he has composed for the song. The lyricist narrates the lyrics to the tune. The filmmaker is confused. This is supposed to be a multi-starrer song, with two superstars, two heroines. When and how did this turn into a solo song? He turns to the lyricist and asks:

“Sahab ye kya hai? Maine aap ko bola is gaane mein kaun kaun hai aur sab gayenge.” Sir what is this? I have told you who all are in this song and they’re all singing.

The lyricist looks at the veteran superstar. He is quiet. The lyricist wonders why isn’t the superstar saying something and trying to convince the filmmaker as he had promised.

The lyricist decides to spill the beans. He gives an honest answer to the filmmaker.

“Dada ne bola ki ismein inko solo gaana karna hai.” Sir said that he would like to have this as a solo song.

The filmmaker realizes where this is coming from. He laughs as he looks at the superstar. He turns to the superstar and says:

“Uncle, aap ko pataa hai na is picture mein aap ka role kya hai?” Uncle, you do know what your role is in this film, right?

The superstar assures the filmmaker:

“Janab, kya baat kar rahe ho. Mujhe bilkul pataa hai.” Sir, what are you saying? I know very well.

The filmmaker now tries to convince the superstar why this should not be a solo song.

“Uncle, mein aap ko ek visual deta hoon. Agar aap mujhe convince kar do, to mein yeh gaana solo kar doonga.” Uncle, let me give you a visual. If you convince me, I will make this song as your solo.

The superstar is ready to listen to the filmmaker.

“Bol, kya hai?” Tell me, what is it?

The filmmaker weaves his narrative.

“Uncle, aap ka ismein role hai, you are a tycoon. Itna bada businessman hai. Itna rich aadmi hai. Aap imagine kariye ki Dhirubhai Ambani ne ek party di hai. Usmein Bajaj bhi aaye hain. Tata bhi aaye. Saari duniya aayi hai. Aur pataa chala Dhirubhai Ambani beech mein khade hoke naach rahe hain aur sab log dekh rahe hain. Kaisa lagega visually?” Uncle, your role in this (film), you are a tycoon. Such a big businessman. Such a rich man. Now imagine that Dhirubhai Ambani is hosting a party. The Bajajs have come. The Tatas have come. The whole world has come. And you find out Dhirubhai Ambani is standing in the center and dancing and everyone is watching. How will it look visually?

The superstar sees the point. He replies:

“Haan yaar, kuch ajeeb lag raha hai.” Yes, my friend, it feels a bit strange.

Turning to the lyricist, the superstar says:

“Panditji, ek kaam kariye, solo ko hataiye. Ye jo bol raha hai vaisa hi kariye.” Sir, do one thing, remove the solo. Do it as he wants.

The lyricist is happy to have the dilemma resolved, but realizes he now has to rewrite the whole song, and this time write for every character that’s going to be singing in it.

He admires the filmmaker’s conviction. This young man knows exactly what he wants in his film and it doesn’t matter who is sitting across from him. The lyricist decides from then on to not listen to anybody and just follow the filmmaker’s conviction for all the songs in the film.

Sameer wrote the lyrics of Say Shava Shava in Karan Johar’s Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001), music by Aadesh Shrivastava. Sameer wrote the lyrics of all the songs, except for Suraj Hua Maddham, which was written by Anil Pandey.

K3G was Karan Johar’s second directorial venture after the resounding success of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. He retained the same team, but also added Amitabh Bachchan, Jaya Bachchan, Hrithik Roshan and Kareena Kapoor, in addition to the existing star cast of Shah Rukh Khan, Kajol and Rani Mukerji.

Jatin-Lalit composed the music for the film, including the title song, Bole Chudiyan, and Yeh Ladka Hai Allah. Sandesh Shandilya composed the songs Suraj Hua Maddham, You Are My Sonia, Deewana Hai Dekho, and Soul of K3G.

K3G was the most expensive film of that time, made at a budget of 300-400 million Rupees. It became one of the highest grossing films of Hindi cinema, with Karan Johar and the film receiving a lot of praise for it’s production values and performances. The music of the film was also very popular and much appreciated.

The film won Filmfare Awards for Best Actress (Kajol), Best Supporting Actress (Jaya Bachchan), Best Scene of the Year, Best Dialogue (Karan Johar), Best Art Direction (Sharmishta Roy), and a host of nominations.

Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan, Rani Mukerji performing this song live in concert:

Lyrics: Sameer
Music: Aadesh Srivastava
*ing: Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan, Rani Mukerji, Kajol
Singers: Amitabh Bachchan, Sudesh Bhonsle, Udit Narayan, Sunidhi Chauhan, Alka Yagnik, Aadesh Srivastava
Director: Karan Johar
Film: Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001)