Chhaayaageet #255 - "Dekh, leke aaya hoon tere liye genius."
See, I have brought a genius for you.
In 1980, just like every year, All India Radio conducts a music competition. Singers and musicians from all over the country vie to participate. Winning this competition is the ticket for a future career as a musician or singer.
A 17 year old boy from Benares has come to Mumbai to take part in this competition. He plays the flute, and has been learning under the guidance of his father, a homeopathic doctor, oil painter, and amateur flautist who has taken lessons from the esteemed Pandit Pannalal Ghosh.
Youth is a funny thing. It does not fear failure. You do not play to arrive somewhere, but play because the breath must move somewhere to bring the notes that have been playing within you long before they find their way out. Effort is pure, innocent. Applause is just incidental. Somewhere along the way mastery arrives quietly, almost surprised to find you were never trying to claim it. It does not care if you are old enough to bear its weight.
The 17 year old flautist wins the first prize as an instrumentalist in the All India Radio music competition. A noted film music composer is one of the judges. He tells somebody, “Arre woh ladka jo bajaya hai usko jara bulao mere paas.” That boy who just played, call him to me.
The young boy presents himself before the composer. The composer asks, “Arre kabhi film mein bajaya?” Have you ever played in films?
“Nahin,” the young boy answers. No.
“Kal Radio James Studio mein aa jaa,” the composer instructs. Come tomorrow to Radio James Studio.
“Mere paas sab bansuri nahin hai,” the boy looks down at the composer’s feet and answers. I don’t have all the flutes.
“Woh sab theek ho jayega,” the composer assures. All that will be taken care of.
The young boy does as asked, and shows up the next day at Radio James Studio. He is asked to play a flute piece for a song that is being worked on. It is an extremely difficult piece. To play flute in film music you need to have 24 flutes. He doesn’t have the money to even buy so many. He is given three flutes to play.
He says a silent prayer in his mind, changes the scale and makes a personal best effort.
The notes from the instrument reach the ears of the lead singer. He turns around to see who is playing, and is speechless to see a 17 year old wisp of a boy playing magic.
He says to the boy in Bangla, “Kōthāẏa thākēna?” Where do you stay?
The boy responds, “Āmi ēkajanēra rānnāgharē pēẏiṁ gēsṭa hisēbē thāki, śudhu sēkhānē’i ghumā’i.” I stay as a paying guest in someone’s kitchen, just sleep there.
The singer cannot contain his excitement at discovering magical talent. “Pancham ke liye tujhe bajana padega.” You will have to play for Pancham.
Another musician, affectionately known in the industry as “Dukhi Babu”, has also taken note of the young boy and heard the words of the singer. He also hails from Calcutta and is a distinguished musician and composer from the esteemed Tagore family. He plays rare instruments like the Dilruba, Taar Shehnai and has played with the stalwarts from Satyajit Ray to SD Burman. The boy, of course, knows none of this.
Dukhi Babu approaches the young boy. He is overcome with affection. He tells the young boy, “Mera beta mujhe theek se dekhbhaal nahin karta. Mein ek hotel mein rahta hoon.” My son does not look after me well. I stay in a hotel.
“Tum kal aao mere paas. Pancham ke wahan le jaoonga,” Dukhi Babu continues. You come to me tomorrow. I will take you to Pancham.
The boy, of course, knows Pancham. Who doesn’t know Pancham?
Dukhi Babu keeps going, “Kya bajaya aaj. Pancham ko bansuri player ki zaroorat hai.” What you have played today. Pancham needs a bansuri player.
The young boy looks at Dukhi Babu’s feet as he continues to listen. Dukhi Babu shares more, “Hariprasad Chaurasia to abhi LP ke wahan bajate hain. Unke paas itna time nahin hai. Ek aur genius dena hai Pancham ko jo Hariprasad ji ka jagah le sake.” Hariprasad Chaurasia is now playing with LP. He doesn’t have much time now. We have to find another genius for Pancham who can take the place of Hariprasad ji.
Youth is a funny thing. It doesn’t get shocked or awed. It listens without shrinking. It meets legends as people, not pedestals. Praise just passes through it, just noticed, not held on to. Comparisons don’t make a dent, because becoming has not yet ossified into being. Youth simply shows up, unburdened by the weight of who came before or the impossible task of replacing them. It is only when we get older that we tremble simply by hearing names. Youth is a funny thing.
The next day the young boy meets Dukhi Babu at Mansoravar Hotel near Bandra. Together they go to Film Center, Pancham’s studio in Tardeo.
Stepping inside Film Center, the boy just takes in the scene. He has never seen anything like this before. Pancham’s orchestra is a sight to behold - 60 to 70 violins, 10 to 15 violas, 4 to 5 cellos, double bass, guitars, synthesizers, percussion, drums, tablas, flute section.
Seeing this massive set up, the young boy is unnerved and is overcome with fear. Where has he come? He glances around, and as if that ensemble was not overwhelming enough, he sees the divine voice Herself sitting behind the glass door, with a piece of paper in hand, memorizing the lyrics of a song. Where has he come?
Dukhi Babu beckons Pancham to come to him. “Aye Pancham, dekh, leke aaya hoon tere liye genius.” Hey Pancham, see, I have brought you a genius.
The young boy looks at Dukhi Babu with a renewed sense of wonder. Who is this man, who hails Pancham as if they are pals, without the customary “ji” that is reserved for someone elder or someone worthy of being accorded respect? He must also be someone big, the boy thinks.
Dukhi Babu looks at the boy and realizes what’s going on his mind. He reveals, “Yeh to mera beta hai Pancham. Iska baap ka shaadi maine karvaya hai.” Pancham is like my son. I have arranged the marriage of his father.
The boy is numbed. This man, Dukhi Babu, has arranged the marriage of the esteemed Sachin Dev Burman, Pancham’s father?! Where has he come?
Pancham joins Dukhi Babu and the young boy. He looks the boy up and down. He knows if Dukhi Babu hails this young lad as a genius, there must be something.
He asks the boy three questions.
“Tumne kabhi background music bajaya?” Have you ever played background music?
“Nahin,” the boy replies. No.
“Music notation likhne aata hai? Likh sakte ho?” Do you know to write music notation? Can you write?
“Haan,” the boy replies. Yes.
“Tumko Raag Khamaaj aata hai?” Do you know Raag Khamaaj?
“Haan,” the boy replies. Yes.
“Bajaa ke sunao,” Pancham commands. Let me hear it.
The boy picks up his flute, closes his eyes, and plays the alaap of Pancham’s song Kuchh To Log Kahenge.
After playing, he opens his eyes, and looks up at Pancham.
Pancham has tears welling up in his eyes. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he keeps staring at the boy. A long second passes with no one saying anything. The boy looks down at Pancham’s feet. Without moving his gaze from the boy, Pancham asks, “Dukhi Da, kahan se leke aaye ye heera?” Dukhi Da, from where did you bring this diamond?
Pancham continues to the young boy, “Abhi ek gaana record ho raha hai yahan. Uske shuru ka piece tu baja.” Now a song is going to be recorded here. You play the piece in the beginning of the song.
After the recording it doesn’t take long for word of mouth to spread in the industry, “Industry mein ek naya ladka aaya hai. Usne ye piece bajaya hai.” A new boy has come into the industry. He has played this piece.
A 17 year old Pandit Ronu Majumdar played the opening flute piece in the song, Yaad Aa Rahi Hai, in the film, Love Story (1981), directed by Rahul Rawail, produced by Rajendra Kumar, starring debutants Kumar Gaurav and Vijayta Pandit in lead roles. The lyrics of the song are written by Anand Bakshi, with music by RD Burman. The song is sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Amit Kumar.
It was Ravindra Jain who heard Ronu Majumdar play in 1980 at the All India Radio music competition and had him play in his studio. This is where Kishore Kumar noticed the young boy and remarked that he needs to play for Pancham.
Dakshina Mohan Tagore, also known as Dukhi Babu, took the initiative to introduce the 17 year old Majumdar to Pancham, and the rest, as they say, is history. Pandit Ronu Majumar played in Pancham’s ensemble and was part of every song right until Kuch Na Kaho from 1942: A Love Story, which was Pancham’s swansong and grand finale.
The song, Yaad Aa Rahi Hai, was originally to be sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Kishore Kumar. However, Kishore Kumar had pledged that he would never sing for Rajendra Kumar. We will leave that story for another day. That was the reason Amit Kumar came to sing playback for Kumar Gaurav, and won the Filmfare Award for Best Male Playback Singer for this song.
Love Story was declared a box office blockbuster. RD Burman was nominated for Best Music Director (Khayyam won for Umrao Jaan). Anand Bakshi was nominated for Best Lyricist (Yaad Aa Rahi Hai, he won for Tere Mere Beech Mein from Ek Duje Ke Liye). Amjad Khan was nominated for Best Supporting Actor (he won for Yaarana).
Watch Amit Kumar render a soulful live performance of Yaad Aa Rahi Hai.
Flute: Pandit Ronu Majumdar
Music: RD Burman
Lyrics: Anand Bakshi
Singers: Lata Mangeshkar, Amit Kumar
*ing: Kumar Gaurav, Vijayta Pandit
Director: Rahul Rawail
Producer: Rajendra Kumar
Film: Love Story (1981)