Chhaayaageet #267 - "I don't think you should sing for me."
The superstar typically attends the recordings of his songs in the studio. But this one song is a cabaret in a bar, performed by the resident singer dancer on the dance floor. He has no meaningful role in the song. It’s ok if he gives this recording a miss. His plate has been too full. After his blockbuster film, he has been on a roll, juggernaut might be a better word. After releasing 5 films a year, his output has almost doubled, 9 films the following year, and 10 films slated for release the next year. Everyone wants a piece of him. He is the one with the Midas touch.
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)