Chhaayaageet #7 - "You are a poet of images."
“You are a poet of images.”
The music composer is a wunderkind. The singer is the queen of melody, living legend. And there’s the poet, sans pareil.
A film director has the face of an actor or actress come to mind while reading a script. For the music composer, it is the singer’s face that comes up based on the voice that matches the imagination. Then it doesn’t matter if they are popular or not.
Her face has never appeared in his mind before...until now. It takes a special something for special people to come together.
There's one condition, however. No matter how accomplished or popular the singer, he or she has to travel out of Bombay, to his studio, in his city, hundreds of miles away, to record a song.
She has not met him before, nor does she know anyone in his studio. But she is willing to go and record there. The beautiful act of creating something has no room for egos.
Reassured that the poet will also be there in person, she shows up on the appointed day. The composer receives her with utmost respect.
Something is different, she observes. There is no live orchestra. There are only two or three musicians with him.
Once he explains the tune to her, she is led to the singer’s cabin. Rehearsals commence. There’s a problem. She is used to seeing the composer and the mixing desk across the glass and making eye contact. This singer’s cabin is a room with four walls and a small glass pane on the door.
“I feel as though I am blind”, she confides to the poet.
Not to worry. The poet pulls a stool and parks himself outside her door. I can see you, I can see him, and I will relay any messages back and forth.
The song is recorded in 40 minutes.
In between, she is sitting around and just humming the alaap of the song to herself. The composer overhears her.
“Please continue singing. I want something like this for the song. Don't worry about where the song will end. You just keep singing.”
Something is different. Don’t worry about where the song will end? You mean, when the recording is done today, she won’t know what the final song will be?
The poet and the nightingale return back to Bombay. After about ten days, the composer calls the poet.
“I have recorded male and female chorus and inserted in between the antaras. The words are in my native tongue. Will you translate them into Hindi?”
He plays the song over the phone for the poet.
The chorus is beautiful, let’s keep it in your native tongue. We don’t need to translate into Hindi.
The composer wants to know the meaning of the song.
It is a bride’s description of her wedding night. It is sensuous, but it cannot come across as sexual or have vulgar words or expressions.
Delicate situations are subtly beautiful when expressed with poetic grace. The queen of melody would not sing any song that even so much as hints to any vulgarity.
So the song of the wedding night is filmed outdoors in broad daylight with a dream sequence mixed in.
The words evoke the moments when left to the imagination - flowers on the bridal bed being crushed, the henna on the bride’s feet being rubbed away.
His pen is like the brush of a painter creating sensual art.
The poet explains the words of the song to the composer.
“You are a poet of images”.
Jiya jale, jaan jale
Naino tale dhuaan chale, dhuaan chale
Raat bhar dhuaan chale
Jaanu na, jaanu na, jaanu na sakhi ri
Jiya Jale was Lataji's first song with Rahman. Later, she got to hear the complete song. It felt really nice. She appreciated the efficacy of Rahman's style of working in not taking too much time from the artists for what he needed from them.
Lyrics: Gulzar
Music: AR Rahman
Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
Director: Mani Ratnam
Film: Dil Se (1998)