Chhaayaageet #142 - "You are forgetting. You are a Mangeshkar first."
The young music composer is tense. This is the first time the big banner production house is looking to make a change in the music department. The filmmaker and head of the production house might just select him as the composer for their next film. However, there is one condition. The star hero needs to approve. Stars and their whimsy, the composer thinks to himself. But it all rests on this audition of sorts. The star hero is himself a trained musician. He has intimate knowledge of Hindustani classical music and the structure of ragas. Not many people know this. The composer certainly does not.
The hero is not happy that the regular music composers are not being considered for this film. How can they trust this young composer to rise up to the level of maestros? But under pressure from the filmmaker, he has reluctantly agreed to give this young man an ear.
The young man is ushered into the music room. He takes position with his harmonium, and one of his regular musicians, a saxophonist, in tow. The hero is sprawled on the sofa, pretending to appear interested. The composer plays the tune for one of the songs in the film. The hero immediately signals his disapproval.
"Ye kya hai? Ye bhi koi gaana hai?", the hero objects. What is this? Is this any song?
The composer is bewildered. It's a nice tune, which will sound nicer with orchestration, but clearly, the hero doesn't like it. This feels like taking an exam where the examiner has already decided the result is a fail, with a big F. He just has to go through the formality of being rejected.
The composer prepares himself to present another song. The saxophone will come into play in this tune. As soon as the saxophone opens the music and the composer then follows it up on his harmonium while singing along, the hero sits up. This is different. Very different. The hero realizes his feet have been tapping on their own. Holy moly. This is really different.
The hero jumps up from the sofa in a dance of delight. He declares excitedly the song will be a super hit. The filmmaker heaves a sigh of relief. The composer is bewildered. Only a few moments ago he was on the verge of being shown the door. Now it appears he might get the film. The filmmaker confirms it to his satisfaction.
The composer immediately leaves the studio and catches a taxi to Peddar Road. He rings the doorbell of the leading female singer's apartment and is ushered in. When she presents herself, he stands up with folded hands.
"Aap mera gaana gayengi na?", he pleads the singer. Will you please sing my song?
She is an established and reputed singer, someone who has reached a place of stature in the industry. A young music composer coming with folded hands asking her to sing his song is not an unfamiliar sight.
"Kyon nahin gaungi? Mein to singer hoon. Gaana mera kaam hai", she responds with a slight air of superiority and condescension. Why won't I sing? I am a singer. Singing is my profession.
The composer starts to sing the song playing along on his harmonium. The singer listens attentively. It seems like a straightforward song. But then the composer sings something completely different. Just like the star hero in the studio, the singer is taken aback. Holy moly. This is very different. The singer feels a jolt. She realizes she cannot sing this. The ego of being who she is suddenly melts and she feels she has been brought down from her high perch to the ground.
She realizes this is a tall order, unlike anything she has sung before. But her ego does not allow her to admit it. She figures out what to say to the composer.
"Chalo mein karti hoon. Lekin char paanch din ke baad", she says without letting any anxiety in her mind come out. Ok, I will do it. But after four or five days.
Over the next four to five days, anytime the singer has to go out for work to other studios, she starts practicing the song in the car. It requires her to exert tremendous control over her breath while singing the words. Her driver cannot take it. One day while returning home in the evening, her driver asks her, "Bai, hospital mein gaadi loon kya?" Madam, should I take the car to the hospital?
"Kyun, kya hua re?", she asks the driver, confused. Why, what happened?
"Aap ko saans chadhi hai", he expresses his concern. You seem to be out of breath and have trouble breathing.
Fast forward to the day of the recording. The singer is nervous. She feels tremendous anxiety and feels she is going to make a spectacle of herself in front of the filmmaker and a studio full of musicians. On top of it, she finds out that there is a 500 rupee wager between the filmmaker and the composer. The filmmaker backs the male singer to sing this duet better. The composer has taken sides with her.
Before leaving home, the singer paces back and forth in her elder sister's room. Should she make up some excuse to cancel the recording today? The elder sister has noticed all this nervous pacing back and forth of her younger sister.
"Ka ashi phirteys ghara madhye?", she asks in Marathi. Why are you pacing like this in the house?
"Didi ek gaana aahe, ani kahi kalat nahi gaanyat kay hoil. Mala thodi bhiti vattey", the singer explains. Sister, there is a song, and I am not sure what will happen in the song. I feel a bit scared.
"Tu visarteys. Tu adhi Mangeshkar aahes, mag Bhosle aahes", the sister boosts her confidence. You are forgetting. You are a Mangeshkar first, then Bhosle."
The elder sister continues, "Jaa. Tujha gaana changla hoil." Go. Your song will be nice.
Asha Bhosle and Mohammad Rafi sang Aaja aaja for the film Teesri Manzil (1966), produced by Nasir Hussain, directed by Vijay Anand, music by RD Burman and lyrics by Majrooh Sultanpuri. The song is filmed on Asha Parekh and Shammi Kapoor.
Nasir Hussain bet 500 rupees that Rafi Saab would sing the refrain "aa aa aaja aa aa aaja" better than Asha ji. RD bet on Asha ji to do it better. Asha ji sang this from the belly with excellent breath control whereas Rafi Saab sang it while modulating the voice from his throat. Needless to say, RD won the 500 rupees wager.
When RD went to be auditioned by Shammi Kapoor, he first presented the tune of the song Deewana mujhsa nahin, which Shammi did not like then, likely because he had already made up his mind against RD. When Manohari Singh started the tune of Aaja aaja with the saxophone, Shammi ji couldn't believe what he was hearing and started dancing.
During the recording, Shammi Kapoor was with Nasir Hussain and RD looking into the singer's booth where Asha ji and Rafi Saab were singing. Shammi was banging the table shouting at the top of his voice "Super hit. Super hit". RD was unnerved and bewildered at what was going on.
During the filming of the song, Asha Parekh was suffering from a bout of allergies and had to perform the dance number under the influence of allergy medication. She has danced incredibly well. The choreography is set by Herman Benjamin, who worked a lot with Shammi Kapoor. Unfortunately, he passed away young in 1968 only a couple of years after the film's release.
Teesri Manzil became a super hit and drew repeat audiences even though it is a murder mystery This was the last time that Shammi Kapoor and Nasir Hussain worked together. All the songs of the film became super hits establishing RD Burman as a new sound in the industry.
Asha ji singing the song live in concert.
Music: RD Burman
Saxophone: Manohari Singh
Singers: Asha Bhosle, Mohammad Rafi
*ing: Asha Parekh, Shammi Kapoor
Choreography: Herman Benjamin
Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri
Produced by: Nasir Hussain
Film: Teesri Manzil (1966)