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Lata Mangeshkar unspools from an uncredited singer on Mahals 78 rpm record to the go-to songstress for three generations of filmmakers

Lata Mangeshkar unspools from an uncredited singer on Mahals 78 rpm record to the go-to songstress for three generations of filmmakers
Back when the world was a simpler,more melodious place,it was split down the middle. Lata or Asha? As a young listener,I ran into the latter first,with a compilation of a Best of Asha songs; I became familiar with the former later,and learned to appreciate the effortlessness with which she hit and soared through her incredibly high notes. But by then I had chosen sides. Asha sang the happier,sassier,zippier songs; Latas were slow and sad and sober. Uthaye ja unke sitam or Zara haule haule chalo more saajna? To me,it was a no-contest: what was to choose?

But Hindi film music fans of my bent were,and have always been,in a serious minority. Just going by sheer numbers,it was the older Mangeshkar sister who got all the top slots: she was the one wooed by all the top filmmakers and stars,the one beloved of all the top composers and tune-meisters,and the one who aroused unswerving devotion among her fans. Even now,when shes nearly stopped singing,the passion which Lata fans bring to her work spanning an incredible six decades is matchless.

It seems unimaginable now,with so many names crowding the space,but at the time when playback singing started to come to the fore in Hindi cinema,the female songs were almost always toplined in Latas voice. Asha was a clear second,Usha (another Mangeshkar sister who also sang) an occasional peeper-in; there was simply no one else in the playback industry. The brash young challengers were decades away.

Lata Mangeshkar In Her Own Voice takes off where Nasreen Munni Kabirs documentary made for Channel 4 in 1991 left. The volume,which the author calls a book of conversations,uses and updates the material in the six-part series with extensive phone calls conducted over four months,from May to August 2008.
They went through the original interview and covered many new areas,says the author in her introduction. Lata speaks sometimes in English,and mostly in Hindi,making light of her early struggle to make enough money for her family,with a few amusing little jabs at the greats of Hindi cinema. Kabir marvels at her total recall,calling her memory for dates and songs astounding.

The book reveals,with great affection and abiding respect,and with the liberal use of lovely rare black-and-white photographs,the making of an Indian icon. Lata sang so many kinds of songs and in so many languages that it is almost unfair to look at her merely as a film playback singer. But thats where her fame started,and spread: Aayega aayega aanewala from Mahal (1949) became that song that blew her out into the open once and for all.

Those days,no importance was given to playback singers,Lata tells Kabir. She used to leave her house in the morning,record all day long without a break and finish at 3 am,sometimes without even a cup of tea. Producers would think: let them record,pay them and they can go…. I had to fight for it to happen singers names to be featured and kept asking producers: why dont you credit us?

On the 78 rpm record of Aayega aanewala,the song has been credited to Kamini,leading lady Madhubalas screen name. The songs unprecedented popularity finally forced HMV to announce Latas name on radio,and that was that: Lata the actor (she acted in Marathi movies from 1942 to 47 and hated it) and Lata the composer and the producer (she tried her hand at both,without noticeable enthusiasm) were buried and Lata the singer emerged and became the go-to songstress for three generations of composers,lyricists,directors and actors. In the 50s,Nargis demanded her voice; thirty years on,so did Madhuri Dixit. And Yash Chopra still wont make movies without having her on board.

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Some of her anecdotes are really funny. She harks back to a meeting with Yusuf Bhai,later known as Dilip Kumar,in a humble Bombay local: it was 47 or 48,and he was able to travel by trains,as no one really recognised him! She also recounts,among a whole host of others,her encounters with Kishore Kumar,Mukesh and Mohammed Rafi,and talks fondly of how their relationship deepened and became as personal as it was professional. There were squabbles and arguments,but nothing that was long-lasting. They got past it,and continued to make music.

If you want professional jealousy or sibling rivalry,look elsewhere: Asha is so versatile we are sisters and neighbours we have always been close and still are is all she has said.

This is that kind of book.