Chhaayaageet #112 - “We beg you, please don’t ever sing in your life again.”
At times, it feels like life moves in circles. And somehow the circles intersect. But you have no idea how that happens.
You meet someone for the first time way back when, even as a child. They have come to meet your father. You tag along. You know they belong to a famous film family. But you also know the person you are meeting is not himself famous yet.
You go about your upbringing, school, college, find a job far away from home. Life is set. Or is it?
Propelled by an urge, you leave a cushy job as a marketing executive in Calcutta and arrive in Bombay, the city of dreams, to make it in films. That person you met when you were a child has had their own arc of life. They’ve gone on to become a huge film star. It couldn’t have been any other way. You have admired them from afar, even inspired perhaps.
In Bombay, you have your own struggles trying to get noticed by film wallahs. You visit studios, meet directors, they throw your photos at the wall saying, “Yeh bhi koi face hai?” Is this even a face?
Rejection at every step, you take it all in. You get some bit roles here and there, some meaty characters now and then. No heroine wants to act opposite you after a string of flops. You are beyond dejected, and wonder if it is time to pack up from Bombay.
It’s been almost four years of struggle now. Life is upset. Or is it?
Things start to change. One hit is all it takes. And now you are all the rage. Suddenly you are in the hockey stick phase of life. Everything you touch is golden.
You meet this person whom you met as a child. There is mutual respect and affection. You meet them in filmi functions, and Holi parties hosted by the grand patriarch of that filmi family. He is also very fond of you.
And one fine day, you find out that you are cast in the same film as this person. This huge personality. The star of yesteryears. You are staying in the same hotel on location.He is there with his wife. You are there with yours.
In the evenings after pack up, you meet in his room. A little winding down after a long day of work. He is a huge music lover. He has learnt classical music and has a very good sense of music in general. He loves to sing. You bring your guitar along.
This is the routine to a fault. Every evening, jamming in his room. He sings. You strum.
One day he sings the Raag Pahadi, a Kashmiri folk melody in its origin. You don't understand the language he is singing. Words sound foreign. But you follow along on the guitar. It is a beautiful dhun, invoking the call of the valley. He sings:
"He ri li li ma li lima...He ri li li ma li lima...He re lima band-a jayo re...He re lima band-a jayo re ho...He ri lima li lima"
What a beautiful tune. You both keep building on it. Together you compose antaras, and almost a song.
How life moves! Someone you met as a child, who became one of the biggest stars of the Hindi film industry, and now here you are, acting in a film with him, jamming and creating music in his hotel room after the day's shoot is over.
And then you both forget about it. Years pass. You are now the biggest superstar of the industry.
A new film of yours is now on the floors. Music is being composed. The filmmaker wants a soft, romantic song. Suddenly from nowhere, you recall this Pahadi tune. You sing it for the filmmaker and the music composers.
They all love it and become eager to use it. You realize this is not your tune. You need to ask for permission. You call up your partner in crime.
"Can I use that tune?", you ask.
"Which tune? What are you talking about?", the veteran actor replies, not knowing what you are referring to.
"That tune which we made at the time of that movie. Remember? That Pahadi tune?", you try to jog his memory.
"My God! Go ahead! Do whatever you want to with it", the veteran actor tells you.
You tell the filmmaker and the music composers that you have the permission. You follow up with a hand written request to the veteran actor.
The music composers want you to sing it. Your rich baritone would be perfect, evoking the depth of the valley, matching the depth of romantic emotions. You know your limits. You are not a singer. They insist.
You record the song. In due course, the film is completed. You host a special screening for close friends and family who have no idea you have sung in the film.
After the screening is over, the first thing they say to you is about this song, "We beg you, please don't ever sing in your life again. Yeh behuda kisam ka gaana hai." This is the worst kind of singing, they tell you. You sigh and shrug. You think to yourself, what have you done?
Shammi Kapoor and Amitabh Bachchan jammed and created this tune, with Shammi ji singing and Amitabh following along on his guitar when they were shooting for Zameer in 1975.
Shammi Kapoor first met Amitabh in Allahabad when he was touring with Prithvi Theaters. Shammi Kapoor was around 19 years old, and Amitabh mere 6 years. For Shammi ji's theater course, he had to learn Madhushala, written by the illustrious Harivanshrai Bachchan. Amitabh would accompany his father to the theater. That's when Shammi ji and Amitabh first met and Shammi ji became fond of the little Amitabh.
Then as Amitabh entered films, they kept crossing paths, mutual affection and respect growing with every interaction, until they acted together in Zameer in 1975.
Six years later, Amitabh remembered and sought permission to use this tune for Neela aasman so gaya for Silsila (1981), directed by Yash Chopra. music by Pandit Shivkumar Sharma and Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia, lyrics by Javed Akhtar.
When Amitabh's family and friends heard him sing in the film at the special screening, they passed a unanimous verdict that he should never ever lend his voice to song in any film.
The song is also sung by Lata Mangeshkar in the film.
Composition: Shammi Kapoor, Amitabh Bachchan
Music: Shivkumar Sharma, Hariprasad Chaurasia
Lyrics: Javed Akhtar
Singers: Amitabh Bachchan, Lata Mangeshkar
*ing: Amitabh Bachchan, Rekha
Director: Yash Chopra
Film: Silsila (1981)