I wonder whether he wrote his own epitaph in his last Instagram post. It read, “Old is gold” with a black and white picture of him in his younger days. I owe my singing career to Bappi Lahiri and he has been more than a family to me. He composed my first song in 1990. I remember visiting Mumbai as a tourist before that and went with a letter from somebody known to lyricist Anand Bakshi introducing me as a young talent. Of course, I had a music legacy to keep, being the grandson of Nemai Chand Boral. Bakshi drove me in his Premiere Padmini from Peri Cross Road to Bappi da’s bungalow. That was where I sang Chalte Chalte for him and the rest, as they say, is history. But he always nurtured my talent than just giving me a break for the sake of opportunity. When I finally gave up my mundane bank job in Kolkata and decided to stake everything as a struggler in Bombay (1992), it was at Bappi da’s house that I found solace. His parents, Aparesh and Bansuri Lahiri, both of them established musicians themselves, always encouraged me. Weekends were all about soirees and celebrating music together. As a migrant Bengali in Mumbai, community festivals were always at Bappi da’s home. I never missed the Saraswati Puja at his place. I got my first break in a Bengali film, Roktonodir Dhaare, for which he had composed the music. Thereafter, he paired me for a duet with Ila Arun, who was such a powerhouse and had just delivered the cult hit Choli Ke Peeche Kya Hai. But Bappi da never for once let me feel overwhelmed by her bigness. My first Hindi film song was for Rishi Kapoor in Prem Yog (1994). He even composed songs in Assamese. The last time I interacted with him was when he asked me to sing a Ganpati bhajan with Amruta Fadnavis, wife of then Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis. He was so selfless and egoless about finding a platform for you without any expectation of loyalty and even introduced me to Kishore Kumar. A jovial, warm host, he always took good care of me without looking like a chaperone. Many people are emphasising his disco music today but his legacy is far stronger. He grew up in the purist classical traditions, playing the tabla at age four as accompanist to his parents, who performed on stage. It was because he was grounded in classical music and understood it inside out that he could adapt to and absorb other forms of music effortlessly into his credo. For him, Sur was Iswar, and he knew how to identify singers who could strike the right notes. And for all his synthesised sounds and instrumentation, he knew that the singer was indispensable to his composition. He gave that artistry respect. A fine singer himself, he lent his voice, unlike many music composers, to numbers that he felt needed his vocals. And he was a livewire performer. Bappi da has composed music for more than 500 films in different genres and I do not know why he isn’t given more credit for much of his melodious songs between 1990 and 2000. Who can forget his compositions, Ogo Bodhu Sundori (Bengali), Sharaabi (1984) and Jalta Hai Jiya Mera (Zakhmee). I remember how both Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle respected him as a composer. Had he not been a complete musician, he could not have adapted a popular Bengali folk number to the cult hit Pyaar Bina Chain Kahaan Re (Saheb). A keen follower of world music, Bappi da should be credited for introducing Electronic Dance Music (EDM) to India. He had an entire generation of youth swinging to his beats. I remember how expectantly we waited for his album Superuna in 1982, a pop collection he did with Bangladeshi artiste Runa Laila, and were completely mesmerised by Haiya Hoo. I remember when I was touring Tanzania with him, the quintessential Bengali in him was looking for some home food. A local gentleman said he could prepare posto (a poppy seed delicacy in Bengal) and rice and Bappi da indulged himself to his heart’s content. And when you heard his compositions that were inspired by African beats and rhythms, you could hardly believe that his creativity was so global in its appeal. Mind you, he was “influenced’ and “inspired”; he never copied. I have to mention lyricist Pulok Bandyopadhya’s description of Bappi da. “Bappi can turn even a newspaper article into a song.” Even Tabun Sutradhar, an iconic guitar player in the industry, once told me how Bappi da could improvise during music sessions with film producers, something no composer was capable of. He would keep the lyrics and compose another tune on the spot with remarkable agility. He gave us every kind of music possible in the popular space. And that’s how we should remember him, as a complete artiste. (As told to Rinku Ghosh)
