Fame, fortune and fade-out

Like many other artistes, celebrated ghazal singer Naseem Bano Chopra too would have died unsung, passing her days as a destitute on the streets of Mumbai had she not been discovered.

Before her, actor and singer Master Parsuram too was rescued from the clutches of misfortune at the fag end of his life. Parsuram, as a young beggar boy in his first memorable film Duniya Na Maane (Kunku in Marathi, 1937) sang and enacted the immensely popular song Man saaf tera hai ki nahin. But little did hesuspect that after a long career in the reel realm, he would end up as a begger off it.

The frustrations in the later part of his life drew him to liquor and beggary on the streets. Tabassum accidentally discovered him and presented him on her popular television show Phool Khile Hain Gulshan Gulshan. His pathetic story moved viewers, who donated generously to provide him a livelihood. But to the industry of which he once was a part, he had failed to exist.

Artistes are generally caught unawares when they suffer a sudden setback in their careers. Like Shanta Hublikar, a prominent actress in the 30s who stole a million hearts with her sterling performance in the landmark film Aadmi (made as Manus in Marathi in 1939). When the film was shown on TV about 40 years, it was also seen by poor and neglected women sheltered in Sraddhanand Ashram in Vasai. The hall was packed to capacity and the women were animatedly discussing Shanta Hublikar’s looks and performance without realising that shewas one amongst them, sitting in a far corner trying to hide her tears. Hublikar had been living there under an assumed name as she was too proud to reveal her identity.

Her plight was bought to the notice of people only accidentally, when Madhav Gadkari of the Marathi daily Loksatta wrote about her. Again, people contributed generously and helped her live in peace for the remaining four years of her life.

Nobody knows how many artistes have died unsung and undiscovered after the limelight had faded out on them. Dancer actress Cuckoo, who played an important role in Mehboob’s Andaz (1949) was a much sought after artiste in her time. In fact, her presence was mandatory for a film to run. But the producers, the success of whose films depended on her, were not around to lend her a helping hand when she was struggling for life in a municipal hospital.

When faced with a bleak future, an artiste often curses the profession which made him a colossus in the public eye.

Master Nissar, asinger-actor in Madan Theatre’s films in the early 30s had an immense following. It is likely that his admirers amongst older generations of viewers are blissfully unaware that by the 60s, Nissar was struggling to survive.

Music director Jaidev (Allah tero naam in Hum Dono, 1961) did not even have a house of his own and had to depend on music lovers in the final stages of his illness in 1987. His only fault: he did not commercialise his music.

An artiste, at times, is too engrossed in his creativity to worry about his own future. Ghulam Mohammed, of Mirza Ghalib and Pakeezah fame, was an artiste of exceptional merit as a composer and a rhythmist. He was passing through a lean phase in his career when Pakeezah came his way. But Mohammed was too proud to discuss his personal problems with others. But when he was confined with a heart ailment, he confided in me about his financial problems out of sheer desperation. Mohammed’s worry was how he would celebrate the approachingfestival of Idd. Circumstances even compelled him to shift to the distant suburb of Borivli, where his constant companion was composer Jamal Sen, another artiste who struggled to survive.

But Ghulam Mohammed’s state failed to pinch the consciences of the affluent artistes at the time, who probably blamed his sufferings on his lack of business sense. Mohammed didn’t live to witness his own success in the magnum opus that was Pakeezah.

Like Ghulam Mohammed, Saraswati Devi too did not have a business sense. As a student of the Bhatkhande school of music, she consented to join films at 23 with the sole purpose of popularising classical music in films. A rare sense of dedication and an emotional attachment to the Bombay Talkies inspired her to give her best to films like Kit gaye ho khaivanhaar in Achhut Kanya (1936), Suni padi re sitar in Kangan (1939) Ruk na sako to jaao in Bandhan (1940) and Na jaane kidhar aaj mori naas chali re in Jhoola(1941).

When she could not reconcile to the changing trend in film music, Saraswati Devi gracefully retired after 30 films to teach music. She never married. At 68, when she fell down from a bus and was admitted to hospital, none of her rich associates from Bombay Talkies came to her rescue. She did not complain, rather, clung to the memories of her past till she breathed her last.

The afterlife after fame has not been that harsh on all. Singers like Zohra Ambalewali lived in comfort till death. Suraiya and Shamshad have little to complain about. But fortune does not favour all. The only fault with Rajkumari, renowned for Ghabhara ke jo hum sarko takraye to in Mahal and Sun bairi balam such bol in Bavare Nain, was that she could not anticipate the sudden setback to her otherwise successful career in playback singing.

In Rajkumari’s case, if destiny was unkind to her, then her temperament favoured her. Neither did her voice dull with age nor adversity break her spirit. Whichsaved her from the ultimate degradation to which some of her contemporaries had fallen. But now, old and ailing, lying in a small dingy room at Versova, she wonders what the future holds in store for her.

As the struggle for the basic means of survival assumes paramount importance, the less fortunate among artistes feel disenchanted with the very life that gave them fame, fortune and frustration in no small measure.

Nalin Shah is an eminent musicologist.