Chhaayaageet #179 - "It's a matter of prestige. Everything needs to be a hit."

As the sun sets on the Hooghly river in Calcutta, she looks at him. He has been quiet for a long time, very unlike him. They have been sitting there for an hour or so. Just watching. He has just been staring at the water in silence. The golden shimmers from the reflections of the sun on the river water have given way to calmer blues. The stars are making their presence felt on the tapestry of the dark sky. On the other bank in the distance, lights flicker and come on one by one, illuminating the facades of centuries-old temples and houses. A gentle breeze carries the faint scent of jasmine.

The two of them are early in their courtship. He, a prodigious music composer, had been wooing her silently for some time, sending her flowers anonymously. She, although meeting him frequently for sittings and recordings, but having no idea of him being her secret admirer. At whichever studio she was scheduled to be, a bouquet of flowers would mysteriously appear waiting in her name. This would irk her to no end. Who is this person? How does he know where to send the flowers? And why is he sending her flowers? Why doesn't he have the guts to reveal himself? On one such occasion of her meeting him for a recording, the peon in the studio dutifully brings her a bouquet of flowers with no name of sender. Disgusted, she asks the peon to toss them in the trash bin. He is distraught. Is this how his flowers have been treated? Seeing his bewildered and sad expression, the lyricist cannot contain his laughter and reveals to her that her secret admirer and the sender of all those bouquets is none other than the music composer himself. What the what?! Since that time they have been spending a lot of time together, enjoying each other's company, enjoying each other's music.

But today is different. Sitting on the banks of the Hooghly, joining them is anxiety and silence. Today's silence is different. It feels heavy.

The singer recalls to her mind the incident of a few days ago, the reason for the anxious evening. The filmmaker had called upon them at the composer's house. It had been a relaxed afternoon, but not so after the filmmaker's arrival. He had announced a new film after a gap of two years and the last couple of his films being less than noteworthy. He had decided to switch horses, leaving out his earlier superstar and casting the new superstar as the hero. There was pressure to make a hit.

The filmmaker had said, "I am making a big film. You are composing music for it. It is a matter of your and my prestige."

Hearing this the singer had immediately retorted, "Dada, I am standing right here. Even I am singing in the film. Why didn't you mention my name?"

The filmmaker had looked at her and said, "Your prestige is always untouched."

He had turned to the composer, imploring, "Everything needs to be a hit."

Those words have been rankling in the composer's mind ever since. Everything. Needs. To. Be. A. Hit. The filmmaker had succeeded in transferring his pressure to the composer. And the composer had stopped being his usual normal and effervescent self.

The singer is brought back to the present moment in the evening by the rustic voices of boatmen on the river, returning home, punctuating the evening air with songs of their ancestors. Cutting through the expanse of the river's serene flow, one can hear the oars of the boats. Gentle splashes of wood pushing the water back and the boats forward.

She looks at the composer again. His brow seems relaxed. She sees his gaze shifted from watching the water close to their feet to the boats in the middle of the river. He is taking in the rhythm of the oars swaying the boats. There is something about watching boats on water. It is the underrated therapy for anxiety and stress. She sees a wave of calm and peace come over his face. It is as if the river is singing to him and he is immersed in the song.

As she keeps gazing at him, she sees him turn to her, finally. "Let's go Asha. We've found our song."

RD Burman composed the song Do lafzon ki hai and the music for The Great Gambler (1979), directed by Shakti Samanta. The song is sung by Asha Bhosle, with lyrics by Anand Bakshi. The song is filmed on Amitabh Bachchan and Zeenat Aman in a gondola in Venice. The lines in the beginning sung by the gondola oarsman in Italian are said to have been written by RD himself. They are sung by Sharad Kumar. Sharad Kumar was a singer and character actor in the industry. He was seen in Sholay as Thakur's (Sanjeev Kumar) son and Radha's (Jaya Bachchan) husband, who is assassinated by Gabbar Singh (Amjad Khan).

Shakti Samanta wanted to make this film with Shammi Kapoor after they had made An Evening in Paris (1967), but he got busy making Aradhana (1969) with Rajesh Khanna. After Rajesh Khanna's star was on the decline, and a couple of flops, Samanta decided to make The Great Gambler with Amitabh Bachchan. Amitabh was riding a huge wave of popularity having delivered a series of hits in 1978 (Don, Trishul, Muqaddar Ka Sikandar). Zeenat Aman also was on a high from her hits in 1977 (Dharam Veer, Hum Kisise Kum Nahin) and 1978 (Satyam Shivam Sundaram, Don). So Samanta was under a lot of pressure to make this film count.

The Great Gambler did not fare well at the box office even with Amitabh Bachchan's double role, presumably because the audience were expecting more after his double role in Don. However, the music and songs of the film became extremely popular. For Asha Bhosle, Do lafzon ki hai happens to be her favorite song of all, perhaps because it is a fond memory of her courtship with RD Burman. They married in 1980.

This is Asha Bhosle performing the song live on stage in Holland.

Music: RD Burman
Lyrics: Anand Bakshi, RD Burman (Italian lyrics)
Singers: Asha Bhosle, Sharad Kumar, Amitabh Bachchan
*ing: Amitabh Bachchan, Zeenat Aman
Directed by: Shakti Samanta
Film: The Great Gambler (1979)