Yesterday’s Melodies Today’s Memories - Page 7

Classics To Remember Pancham

12 years have passed since the dark day of January 4^th that brought the news of Rahul Dev Burman aka Pancham's untimely death. Surprisingly this sad demise somehow has renewed public interest into his vast and varied musical output and over these years resultant debates, discussions and discoveries have turned this talented composer into an international musical icon. It is an apt but a bit too late acknowledgement of Pancham's musical genius, who in his last few years was reduced to being a struggling by-stander by the merciless showbiz industry that shamelessly ranks success before talent.

As every day, Pancham's countless tunes keep reminding us of the ingenious workings of his musical mind, what could be a better tribute on his 12^th death anniversary than remembering 12 of his most memorable masterly compositions! Here are my top 12 Pancham- classics that to me define the man and his music.

1. Aaja Aaja Main Hoon Pyar Tera – Teesri Manzil – 1966

Mohammed Rafi and Asha Bhosle breathed fire into this pop- rock composition but not before toiling hard for days to master a challenging tune composed by this rank newcomer. This bold and brash song really signaled Pancham's arrival on the big stage.

1. Yeh Shaam Mastani – Kati Patang – 1970

From that mesmerizing opening whistle to Kishore Kumar's final landing note, this song was a classic example of a composer and a singer being in perfect harmony. With an astonishing array of such magnificent romantic songs, this peerless team was to provide the impetus to Rajesh Khanna's brief but dazzling reign as a superstar.

1. Piya Tu Ab To Aaja – Caravan- 1971

This was yet another song of unbridled sensuality unleashed through Asha's power-packed vocals and Helen's on-screen pyrotechnics. Pancham's own inimitable addition of Monica My Darling was just the perfect icing on the cake.

1. Raina Beeti Jaaye – Amar Prem – 1971

This brilliant classical melody was Pancham's answer to those tradition-bound critics who had labeled him a westernized Tara Ruru Ha Ha Hoo Hoo- kind of composer. So impressed was the hard-to-please musical genius Sajjad with this Lata- number that he considered it one her best classical numbers.

1. Jaane Jaan Dhoondhta Phir Raha – Jawani Diwani – 1973

R.D.'s youthful adventurous streak comes to fore in this delightful Asha- Kishore duet punctuated by some innovative pitch changes and clever orchestration.

1. Bahon Mein Chale Aao – Anamika – 1973

Always the one to experiment, Pancham scores a clear winner in giving this naughtily sensuous number to Lata instead of the usual choice of Asha. The melody queen adds an extra dimension to this playful seductive song.

1. Karvatein Badalte Rahen – Aap Ki Kasam – 1974

Duets is a difficult genre to master but Pancham once again shows his mastery over it in this Lata – Kishore duet- an exquisite expression of love and longing by two exquisite voices.

1. Mehbooba O Mehbooba – Sholay – 1975

The maestro himself lent his gruff barking voice to a song adapted from a Demis Roussos number and the result was an electrifying dance number for the greatest blockbuster in the history of Indian cinema.

1. The Musical Medley – Hum Kisise Kam Nahi – 1977

This novel dance-competition- medley specifically designed for the lighted disco floors was undoubtedly yet another musical milestone. It's in the tradition of the Sawal-Jawab- songs of yesteryears but with a new-age look.Rafi starts off with a moody Chaand Mera Dil, then Kishore comes up with a macho Aa Dil Kya Mehfil Hai Tere, which then is countered by R.D.'s own act Ho Tum Kya Jaano Mohabbat Kya Hai and finally Kishore and Asha dish out a fluffy teaser Mil Gaya Hum Ko Saathi. These are four distinct songs and yet presented as one stirring musical package to show Pancham's ability to mix and match moods according to cinematic requirements.

1. Hamein Tumse Pyar Kitna – Kudrat – 1980

Yet another example of R.D.Burman's versatility. Just compare the two versions of this song. If Parveen Sultana's classical Thumri styled version won the awards and was a connoisseur's delight, then Kishore's superbly soulful version was also a master-class in plain expressive singing.

1. Mera Kuchh Saaman – Ijaazat – 1987

The song that won Asha and Gulzar their National Awards is a testimony to Pancham's ability to infuse musicality into seemingly non-musical lyrics. After mockingly comparing the lyrics to a newspaper headline, Pancham found just the perfect notes to bring out the emotions hidden between those words.

1. Pyar Hua Chupke Se – 1942-A love Story

In a soundtrack that was released after his death, Pancham showed how he could evoke magic even through new voices. This Kavita Krishmurthy- number was steeped in sweetness and romance.

The DEVDAS Phenomenon

by Corey K. Creekmur

(Notes on 3 DEVDAS films and the novel that inspired them.)

DEVDAS (1935), Hindi version, 140 minutes.
Produced by New Theatres. Screenplay and Direction by P. C. Barua
Cinematography: Bimal Roy Music: Rai Chand Boral and Pankaj Mullick Dialog and lyrics: Kidar Sharma
Starring: K.L. Saigal, Jamuna, Rajkumari, and K. C. Dey

DEVDAS (1955), Hindi, 161 minutes.
Produced and Directed by Bimal Roy. Music: S. D. Burman Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi
Starring: Dilip Kumar, Vyjayantimala, Suchitra Sen, and Motilal

DEVDAS (2002), Hindi, 184 minutes.
Directed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali Music: Ismail Darbar Lyrics: Nusrat Badr
Starring: Shahrukh Khan, Madhuri Dixit, Aishwarya Rai, and Jackie Shroff

Dilip Kumar as Devdas (1955)

The tragic triangle linking the self-destructive Devdas, his forbidden childhood love Paro [Parvati] and the reformed prostitute Chandramukhi was first told in the popular and influential 1917 Bengali novella by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay (1876-1938) [sometimes rendered as Sarat Chandra Chatterjee or Chatterji, among other variants]. The story has since become one of the touchstones of popular Indian cinema. An adaptation starring Phani Burma (later a notable Bengali director) was filmed in 1928 by Naresh Chandra Mitra, but the first widely influential version was directed simultaneously in Hindi and Bengali in 1935 for New Theatres by P.C. (Pramathesh Chandra) Barua, son of the Raja of Gauripur. Barua cast himself as Devdas in the (recently rediscovered) Bengali version, and the legendary pre-playback singing star K. L. (Kundun Lal) Saigal (who has a cameo role singing two songs in the Bengali film) starred in the extremely popular Hindi version; because both Barua and Saigal suffered from their character's alcoholism, the suggestion of a pathological identification with the role of Devdas has haunted later figures attracted to the story as well. Devdas also exists in at least one Tamil (P. V. Rao, 1936), Malayalam (Ownbelt Mani, 1989), and two Telegu verions (Vedantam Raghavaiah, 1953 and Vijayanirmala, 1974), as well as a Bengali remake (Dilip Roy, 1979), though its most prominent versions following Barua's film featuring Saigal are undoubtedly the remakes in Hindi by Bimal Roy starring Dilip Kumar in 1955, and by Sanjay Leela Bhansali starring Shah Rukh Khan in 2002.

In addition to these many "official" versions of Devdas, the story and its tragic characters have also served as crucial referents for such major Hindi films as Guru Dutt's PYAASA (1957) and especially his KAAGAZ KE PHOOL (1959), which involves a dissolute director remaking Devdas as a film within the film. (Guru Dutt is yet another key figure in Indian cinema whose biography unfortunately resonates with the tormented and self-destructive Devdas.) Indeed, as Gayatri Chatterjee suggests, Devdas is the archetype of what she tentatively calls "the genre of the self-destructive urban hero" in Indian cinema. A loose adaptation of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, PHIR SUBAH HOGI (Ramesh Saigal, 1958) features Raj Kapoor in a rare Devdas-like role, whereas MUQADDAR KA SIKANDER (Prakash Mehra, 1978), a more or less unofficial remake, forges the unexpected link between the early 20th-century upper-class Bengali aesthete and Amitabh Bachchan's Emergency-era, working-class, angry young North Indian man (as Ashis Nandy has insightfully noted). Finally, the masochistic romantic relationships of Devdas are echoed in films such as PREM ROG (Raj Kapoor, 1982) and many others that depict lifelong, but socially thwarted, passions. Although he has become the very model of the ardent lover whose passion is never consummated, Devdas has nevertheless spawned a school full of sad children throughout the history of Indian cinema.

Suchitra Sen and Dilip Kumar (1955)

The basic plot of Devdas has remained fairly consistent throughout its various incarnations, and in bare outline it hardly explains the story's ongoing fascination. The rich brahmin zamindar's devilish son Devdas and the middle-class Parvati (affectionately called Paro) are childhood playmates who declare their love just before Devdas is sent away to Calcutta (or, in the most recent version, England) for his education. After the young couple are reunited (Paro's brother-like playmate "Dev-da," the novel notes, becomes "Devdas-babu"), Parvati's family attempts to arrange her marriage to Devdas, but the latter's father rejects the union. Paro's family are lower status, a trading family, and unfortunately, neighbors, and the girl's insulted family responds by quickly arranging her marriage to a wealthy widower with grown children. Though promised to another, Parvati, in one of the story's now-famous set-pieces, risks her reputation by coming to Devdas in the night and asking him to save her from a loveless marriage; the weak-willed Devdas hesitates, and decides that he cannot challenge his family and tradition. He is, however, distraught in his decision and, back in Calcutta, seeks to lose himself in drink and the seductive urban demi-monde when his worldly college chum Chunnilal takes him to a brothel. There he meets the dancing prostitute Chandramukhi, who will fall in love with the glum young man who pays yet seeks nothing from her. Three key events carry the story to its hopeless conclusion: Devdas writes Paro an insincere letter denying his love for her, which he attempts but fails to prevent from being delivered; prior to her wedding, Devdas, breaking a childhood promise never to hit Paro again, scars Paro's beautiful face (originally with a fishing rod), marking her with a symbol of his enduring love (and a punishment for her vanity); finally, as he sinks into greater oblivion despite Chandramukhi's attempts to care for him after she abandons her profession, Devdas takes a last, aimless train ride across India. Finally, as he had promised ("If it's the last thing I do, I'll come to you"), Devdas drags himself to the entrance of Parvati's home – to which she has been restricted — where he dies just before she is alerted to the presence of a stranger's body just beyond the massive gates that shut her inside as she runs to him. (While these details may spoil the story for a first-time viewer, it's clear that most Indian viewers come to any telling of the tale with the plot well-known and its now-familiar highlights eagerly anticipated with each retelling.)

Shah Rukh Khan as a London-returned Devdas (2002)

As a narrative centered around love in separation (viraha), Devdas evokes the story of Krishna and Radha, an echo made explicit in Bimal Roy's film when, replicating a scene from the novella, Paro pays a Vaishnava couple (replacing three women in the text) with three rupees she is holding for Devdas; whereas in the novel "The songs, their meaning, all passed Parvati by" (though they have an emotional impact), the film trusts that the song – recounting Radha's longing for the absent Krishna – grounds this story in Hindu tradition and myth. Yet at the same time, the character of Devdas is explicitly "modern" in terms of his education and dress when he first returns from college; the novel outfits him in "foreign shoes, bright clothes, a walking stick, gold buttons, [and] a watch – without these accessories he felt bereft." More significantly, Devdas is a modern thinker, especially in his challenge to (at least the idea of) arranged marriage, in his cigarette smoking (which in the film versions replaces the novel's hookah), in his addiction to the "Western" vice of alcohol, and in his bohemian attraction to the nether-world of brothels (aided by the cosmopolitan but irresponsible Chunnilal). As critics have noted, the movement between the village and the city, the story's cycle of departure and return that abets the young man's descent, is also fundamental to the experience of Indian modernity, and the consequent alienation from tradition. As such, the hero's perhaps attractive rebellion is offset by his continually emphasized weaknesses: he is spineless, cruel, narcissistic, and a virtual Hindu Hamlet in his frustrating inability to act, especially when action seems most necessary. The role is then a complex one for a film "hero," at least in the decades before the "anti-hero" redefined the qualities of the protagonist in the 1970s. While many "feel-good" Hindi films celebrate the careful balance of tradition and modernity – for instance in recent films where arranged marriages and love matches happily cohabitate – Devdas dramatizes the tragic inability of tradition and modernity to achieve balance: the home and the world (to evoke the paradigmatic title of Tagore's famous novel) are the story's ultimate tragic couple.

The now-iconic figure of Devdas also might be read as the ritual sacrifice of the young Bengali brahmin to European romantic aestheticism, transporting the sorrows of young Werther-ji into the subcontinent. As noted above, the appeal of that doomed figure, whose self-loathing might express a young audience's milder frustrations and inability to reconcile cultural demands and individual desires, continued at least into some of the manifestations of Amitabh Bachchan's angry young man, who nevertheless was more often motivated to fight back, even in vain, than to wallow in passive self-pity. For many viewers Devdas, no matter which charismatic star embodies him, will remain a difficult character to like or admire, but the character demands emotional identification rather than moral emulation; this ambivalent attraction may be exactly what was radical about the original character for at least a generation of Bengali artists and readers. As a self-absorbed, selfish character who is by no means too good for this world, Devdas cannot adjust his damaged ego to what Freud would call the reality principle; indeed, part of the figure's modernity is in his being defined by an individual ego rather than a class or caste-based morality, a difference that makes traditional heroes appear as unrealistic ideals rather than the type of young man one could actually imagine encountering on the streets of Calcutta in the early decades of the 20th century. Whether the modernist figure of Devdas continues to retain its appeal and relevance for contemporary Indian audiences and postmodern, globetrotting NRIs may be central to evaluating the most recent version of the story.

Production still from Barua's DEVDAS (1935)

P. C. Barua's Hindi version of Devdas, with cinematography by the young Bimal Roy, is one of the most important films in Indian cinema history, though modern audiences will probably find Barua's film "primitive" and Saigal's performance stilted (with carefully enunciated Hindi that always sounds quoted rather than spoken), but for its time the film is quite remarkable and formally inventive, using songs and voiceover dialog, for instance, in ways that were innovative for early sound cinema. And many enduring fans will attest that Saigal's "evergreen" songs have not lost their power and appeal. Unlike the novella, or Bimal Roy's own remake of the film he first photographed, Barua's Devdas does not introduce his main characters as children, but as nave young adults; Barua, however, does suggest that, the title aside, this is largely Paro's story, as she introduces the narrative. Despite the title of most "official" versions, the story of Devdas is always the story of the doomed relationship between three pivotal characters, and most of its filmed versions take advantage of film techniques to emphasize the deep, almost supernatural ties between them. Critics often cite the film's use of parallel editing, most notable when, late in the story, Devdas cries out and the film cuts to Paro stumbling, then back to Devdas falling in his train car. Whether this device was Barua's innovation is hard to determine, but its use of a distinctly cinematic technique to suggest a "telepathic" connection between the separated lovers remains powerful. [Note: Barua's film is not presently, to my knowledge, available on DVD.]

Fom Bimal Roy's DEVDAS (1955)

Perhaps the best-known version of Devdas was produced in 1955, and directed, again, by the cinematographer of Barua's 1935 films, Bimal Roy, who had recently established himself as a notable Bombay-based director and producer working in a realist style with DO BIGHA ZAMEEN (1953). Most memorably, his version provides indelible performances by Dilip Kumar, Vyjayantimala (originally from South India) as Chandramukhi, and Suchitra Sen (from Bengal) as Parvati. At first glance, Roy's version of the story seems subtle and naturalistic, with affinities to the emerging Bengali art cinema of Satyajit Ray: the actors are restrained and convincing, and often placed in realistic locations rather than the studio sets which provide the stylized background for other versions. But closer examination reveals that Roy's film is formally intricate without calling attention to its techniques.

Following the novella, but also picking up on what had by then become something of a tradition in Hindi films (such as ANMOL GHADI or AWARA, among many others), Roy introduces his protagonists as children and will carry them to young adulthood through a transitional dissolve, in this case by focusing upon the richly condensed image of a closed and then open lotus in the river where Paro gathers water, an image that suggests the girl's "blossoming" as well as the cyclical revolutions of nature, and with an object that moreover connotes the nation. Roy also makes careful, meaningful use of his restlessly moving camera throughout the film. When the boy Devdas calls Paro from her room by tossing stones at her window, a graceful crane shot travels with her from an upper floor to the gate where she meets Devdas below. Years later, when Devdas has returned from Calcutta, the shot replicates itself exactly without much fuss, so that the film itself suggests a basic, enduring relationship despite the passing of years, and the embodiment of the characters by a different set of adult actors.

A moving camera also underlines a key scene, when Paro and Chandramuki – ostensible rivals but sisters in their doomed passion – view one another on the road. In the original novel, the two central female characters never meet, but filmmakers have been unable to reconcile themselves to their complete isolation from one another. While the most recent version of the story allows its superstar heroines to indulge in considerable female bonding, Roy's film merely suggests this possibility through a quiet but formally powerful moment.

Most recently, Sanjay Leela Bhansali's extravagant 2002 release starring Shah Rukh Khan as Devdas, Ashiwariya Rai as Paro, Madhuri Dixit as Chandramukhi, and Jackie Shroff as Chunilal is said to be the most expensive production in Indian film history. Although the original context for Devdas is specifically early 20th-century Bengal, the persistent return to the character and story throughout Indian popular culture suggest that they have become archetypes with broad application and appeal. But Bhansali's film, presented as an explicit tribute to Chattopadhyay, Barua, and Bimal Roy, also suggests that the relevance and appeal of Devdas may be fading into the historical past; his elaborate sets and costumes render the historical past as spectacle rather than as artifact, and so his early 20th-century Calcutta resembles an elaborate fantasy rather than a lost, recreated time and place. On its surface a rather simple story, in this recent incarnation Devdas has become operatic, or, less generously, overblown.

Bhansali's film is an opulent, extravagant spectacle, filled to the brim with elaborate sets and stunning costumes, and it is often shot with breathless, rushing steadicam shots of swirling action and color. The soundtrack pounds away with thunderous beats at every emotional high or low point. As Anup Singh suggests, the director's aim seems to be to render the story's strong emotions through the film's hyperventilating style as well as the situations of the characters. But this abundance – if this is indeed India's most expensive film to date, the money, as they say, is on the screen – constantly threatens to overwhelm what remains at heart a simple, if psychologically complex, story.

Vyjayantimala as Chandramukhi, Motilal as Chunnilal (1955)

It is not mere nostalgia that makes Roy's version seem preferable, and near definitive, but its realistic grounding despite adherence to Bombay conventions: Devdas is, again, less a classical tragic hero than a modernist anti-hero, whose downward spiral does not occur in a mythic space, but in the historically specific modern world which, lowering the standards of genuine tragedy, can no longer support the grand gesture or heroic sacrifice of mythic heroes. The persistent echo of the divine (yet lustful) love of Krishna and Radha in the Devdas story is thus as mocking as it is sustaining: while the devotion of Devdas and Paro may be unbreakable, they are after all not immortal gods, and so the world breaks them despite their passion, reducing them to the human status of the doomed Romeo and Juliet rather than elevating them to the realm of the eternal lovers of Hindu myth.

Bhansali's film places its characters within a modernity that is now so far past that it must be artificially overstated, as Devdas's arrival in now-comic early 20th-century Western fashion (including a monocle and cigarette holder) emphasizes for a short while. Thereafter, the film's setting is taken over by the elaborate sets which compete with the story and characters for the audience's attention. The film is thus neither updated (by, for instance, making Devdas a drug addict rather than an alcoholic) nor genuinely historical, techniques which might have forced the audience to compare its present situation to the represented past. By creating a fantasy space with only slight reference to the real world or historical context – the film generally avoids specifying its time or place directly – the film constructs a fantastic vision of a romantic "Bengal" that may be as exotic for the film's (North) Indian audience as for its diasporic (and non-Indian) viewers. (If, for instance, the film is obviously favoring the "modern" love match over the traditional arranged marriage, then the return of the arranged marriage in so many of the mega-hit family films of recent years suggests that the "modern" position can hardly be assumed for contemporary viewers.)

Moreover, this version's decision not to first depict Devdas and Paro as children, except later, in brief flashbacks (with Devdas hardly depicted at all), tends to take the story out of a tradition – developed in part by earlier versions of this story and associated works – of presenting true lovers as recognizing one another even as children, whose passion never "grows up" or adjusts to the pressures of class, caste, or economic realities. While the childhood infatuation of Devdas and Paro is frequently described in dialog, the avoidance of the characters as children – in part, I think, an effect of Shah Rukh Khan's prominent boyishness in his screen persona – makes their lifelong love and Devdas's Krishna-like mischief something we must trust upon hearing from others rather than something we are given to witness. The lifelong attachment of Devdas and Paro is richly grounded by the first sections of Bimal Roy's film, whereas Bhansali trusts that mere reference to their childhood devotion will suffice.

Although it might be argued that none of the stars of the latest version of Devdas were capable of carrying the weight of these now-legendary roles, the film has the odd effect of its actors improving as the film proceeds. Shah Rukh Khan achieves some of the gravity of his character once the boyish qualities that have defined him as a star are no longer appropriate, and Aishwarya Rai – for the first half perhaps the dimmest Paro in the story's tradition – seems to perceptibly gain increased knowledge of, if no control over, the social forces defining her. (As depicted in earlier versions, Paro is a simple but by no means stupid girl, and so Aishwarya Rai's emphatic naivete seems a disservice to the character: the fact that she actually keeps a candle burning for Devdas implies a too-literal mind as well as devotion.)

Madhuri Dixit, here playing a "mature" character now that she is an "older woman" by Hindi heroine standards, provides the film's standout performance, and constructs perhaps the single character whose feelings seem genuine throughout; an elaborate song-sequence in which she and Paro interact (to an extent unprecedented in earlier versions) is unexpectedly effective in demonstrating Chandramuki's basic goodness, undeserved abjection, and passionate drive, all registered through Madhuri Dixit's expressions and postures. As the unwitting aide to Devdas's self-destruction, Jackie Shroff, in a cameo as the unintentionally destructive Chunnilal, is also memorable. Yet even these worthy performances must continually compete with the film's dazzling – but ultimately distracting – costumes and scenery, all again presented through a hyperactive camera and unrelenting soundtrack. As with each previous version of the story, this film's strongest moments are in small details and gestures, but the film itself seems to have been made with the mantra that "size matters" as it persistently boosts and trumpets many of its otherwise most delicate moments.

Although Bhansali's film was a commercial hit that played in major cinemas worldwide (I saw it in a massive cinema in London's theatre district, where it was widely advertised alongside mainstream British and American films), its long-range impact seems less certain than that of previous versions of the story. (The apparent attempt to make this the film to finally bring "Bollywood" to Western audiences also seems a failure: the smaller non-Bollywood films MONSOON WEDDING and BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM have reached far more Western viewers, who often mistake such "international" films for the real thing.) Whether the myth of Devdas maintains its power into the 21st century remains to be seen, but one suspects that yet another version – probably in the now-established tradition of unofficial remakes – will be necessary to revitalize the tale for contemporary audiences, in the way that Bachchan's unexpected channeling of Devdas in some of his 1970s roles clearly shook up the norms of Indian popular cinema. In any case, the story of a young man who dies too young has seemed immortal for most of the 20th century; ironically, his latest incarnation seems to hasten his legend's demise rather than sustain it.

dada,
thank you for this article,,,about devdas

(1915-84)

Among the leading progressive Urdu writers of the 20th century, Rajinder Singh Bedi was also a prolific screenplay and dialogue writer. Born in the Sialkot district of present-day Pakistan, Bedi started his career with the All India Radio in Lahore. He later became director of the Jammu and Kashmir Broadcasting Service.
As a writer, Bedi emphasized craftsmanship rather than mere creativity. He is credited with having introduced the khari bolt - "the common man's prose" - into the rather high-flown, poetic style of Urdu literature. This simplicity of style marks his work in films as well.
Bedi joined the film industry in the late 1940s as a screenplay and dialogue writer. His major credits include Sohrab Modi's Mirza Ghalibl Raj Khosla's Milap, and Bimal Roy's masterpieces, Devdas and Madhumati. His sensitivity as a writer was perhaps best revealed in the dialogues of Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Anuradha and Anupama. Bedi also adapted the Gogol classic The Overcoat into Garam Coat.
Bedi made his debut as a director in 1970 with the critically acclaimed Dastak. Two of his highly acclaimed works, Gmhan and Ek Chadar Maili Si were filmed in 1972 and 1986, respectively.
Bedi won the Filmfare Award for Best Dialogue Writer in 1958 for Madhumati and in 1970 for Satyakam. His Ek Chadar Maili Si won the Sahitya Akademi Award in 1971. Bedi's son, Narinder Bedi, was the director of the hit musical romance, Jawani Diwani,

SELECT FILMOGRAPHY
1954: Mirza Ghalib; 1955: Devdas; Milap; Garam Coat; 1957: Ab Dilli Door Nahin; 1958: Madhumati; 1960: Bambai Ka Baku; Anuradha; 1961: Memdidi; 1964: Dooj Ka Chand; 1966: Anupama; 1970: Dastak; Satyakam; 1972: Grahan; 1973: Phagun; 1978: Aankhon Dekhi; Nawab Sahib;

Suman Kalyanpur
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Suman Kalyanpur, elder sister to Shyama Chittar born on January 28, 1937 is a female singer. Born in Dhaka, Bangladesh, at the time (British East India), she received her musical training in Mumbai.[1]

In 1943 her family shifted to Mumbai. She received her musical training in Mumbai itself. Before marriage Ms. Suman was known as Suman Hemmady, and, after getting married to a Mumbai based businessman named Mr. Ramanand S. Kalyanpur, she was known as Mrs. Suman Kalyanpur, the name by which we all know her.

Once Talat Mahmood heard her voice in a musical concert. Getting highly impressed by her voice, he recommended her to his music recording company HMV. Suman got her first chance of giving playback in the film called 'Mangu', in 1954. She sang 'Koi Pukaare Dheere Se Tujhe.' under the baton of music director Mohammad Shafi. 'Mangu' had four other songs which were composed by O. P. Nayyar. She gained recognition in the film world. But she was unfortunate that people found her voice very close to Lata Mangeshkar and it was said that she copies Lata. Due to this disappointing fact, the senior film makers slunk away from her. But in spite of all this, the producers of anti Lata camp made her sing in their movies.

Dil Ek Mandir (1963), Shagun (1964), Dil Hi To Hai (1963), Jahaan Aara (1964), Sanjh Aur Savera (1964), Pakeezah (1971), Baat Ek Raat Ki (1962), Noor Jahan (1967) and Miyan Biwi Razi (1960) are some of the movies for which she gave her outstanding performance. Till the last decade Suman Kalyanpur thrilled her audiences with her stage performances and concerts. She also made many successful foreign tours and concerts.

Suman never got much attention from the film-makers as well us from the film-goers. She sang around 740 songs (approximately) and few non-filmi songs as well. In spite of being neglected by many film-makers, it was her talent that she sung with almost every noted music director and co-singers. Some of her most popopular songs are: 'Na Tum Hamen Jano..' (Baat Ek Raat Ki), 'Chhodo Chhodo Mori Baiyan..' (Miya Biwi Raazi), 'Dil Gham Se Jal Raha..' (Shama), 'Yun Hi Dil Ne Chaha Tha..' (Dil Hi To Hai), 'Bujha Diye Hain..' (Shagun), 'Mere Sang Gaa..' (Janwar), 'Mere Mehboob Na Ja..' (Noor Mahal), ' Tum Agar Aa Sako To..' (Ek Saal Pehle), 'Jo Hum Pe Gujarti Hai' (Mohabbat Isko Kehten Hain), 'Sharabi sharabi yeh saawan ka mausam' (Noor Jehan) etc.

Suman Kalyanpur has also recorded songs for several regional films in languages such as Marathi, Gujarati, Kannada, Bhojpuri, Rajasthani, Bengali, Oriya and Punjabi. She has recorded devotional songs, ghazals and thumris. She has been thrice the recipient of the prestigious Sur Sringar Samsad award for the best classical song in a Hindi film. In Hindi, she has sung the most with Shankar Jaikishan and Roshan, though Madan Mohan, S D Burman, Hemant Kumar, Chitragupt, S N Tripathi and Ghulam Mohammed made good use of her voice. The one and only duet that she sang with Lata Mangeshkar was under the baton of Hemant Kumar. She has recorded lovely duets with Rafi, Manna Dey and Mukesh besides Talat Mahmood and Hemant Kumar.

In Marathi, she recorded for Sudhir Phadke, Dashrath Pujari, Ashok Patki and several others. Some of her well-known Marathi songs are 'rimjhhim zharati shraawan dhaara', 'shabda shabda zapoon thhev', 're kshanachya sangateene', 'jethe saagaraa dharanee miLate', 'bhaktichya phulaancha goad to suvaas' and 'ketakichyaa banee tethe naachalaa ga mor'.

Songs of Suman Kalyanpur

1)ise to na dekho, ke bahak jaae.n kahii.n ham
2) ajahu.N naa aaye baalamaa, saavan biitaa jaae
3) baad muddat ke yah gha.Dii aaii
4) barakhaa raanii, zaraa jam ke baraso, meraa dilavar jaa naa pae
5) bujhaa diye hai.n khud apane haatho.n
6) dil-e-betaab ko siine se lagaanaa hogaa
7)haa.N, mai.nne bhii pyaar kiyaa, pyaar se kab inakaar kiyaa
8) jab se ham tum bahaaro.n me.n ho baiThe gum nazaaro.n me.n
9) juuhii kii kalii merii laaDalii
10) meraa pyaar bhii tuu hai ye bahaar bhii tuu hai
11) mere mahabuub na jaa, aaj kii raat na jaa, hone vaalii hai sahar
12) na tum hame.n jaano, na ham tumhe jaane.n
13) parbato.n ke pe.Do.n par shaam kaa baseraa hai
14) Thahariye hosh me.n aaluu.N to chale jaaiyegaa
15) tum jo aao to pyaar aa jaae
16) tumane pukaaraa aur ham chale aae
17)ye mausam ra.ngiin samaa, Thahar zaraa o jaan-e-jaa.n
18) yuu.Nhii dil ne chaahaa thaa ronaa rulaanaa
19) zi.ndagii zulm sahii zabr sahii Gam hii sahii
20)Din ho ya raat, hum rahen tere saath, yeh hamari marzi,
21)Tumhi mere meet ho
22)Dil gham se jal raha
23)Garjat barsaat sawan aayo.
24)Na tum hame jaano, na hum tumhe jaane
25)Na jaane kahan tum the
26)Na, na karte pyar tumhi se kar baithe
27)Dil ne phir yaad kiya
28)Yeh mausam rangeen sama

Sudha Malhotra
Sudha Malhotra was born on November 30, 1936 in New Delhi. Sudha spent her childhood days in Lahore, Bhopal and Firozpur. She completed her graduation in music from Agra University. Sudha Malhotra gained her grooming in Indian classical music, under the guidance of Ustad Abdul Rehman Khan and Pandit Laxman Prasad Jaipurwale. She began her musical career at a tender age of five. Her talent was discovered by the then famous and revolutionary music director Ghulam Haider, at a programme in Firozepur in the aid of Red Cross. With her enrapturing beauty and melodious voice she chiselled out her career to perfection as a child artist in All India Radio, Lahore. Later, Sudha gained new heights by joining film singing at the age of eleven. Singing has always been the first love for Sudha and in this field, with her very first break as a playback singer in the film Aarzoo, under the baton of Anil Biswas, with an evergreen song 'Mila Gaye Nain..', she showed promise of a competent voice. She sang with Manna Dey and Parul Ghosh in the films 'Aandolan' and 'Vande Mataram'.

She sang in the films Aarzoo, Dhool Ka Phool, Ab Dilli Door Nahin, Girl Friend, Barsat Ki Raat, Didi, Kala Pani, Prem Rog, Dekh Kabira Roya, Gauhar, Dil-e-Naadan, Babar and many more. Sudha's versatility led to more films and different kinds of songs. Each time it was a challenge that gave her listeners another treat. During the making of the film Didi, the music director N. Dutta fell ill and the track was needed urgently. Young Sudha was the singer. Always ready to rise to the challenge, Sudha stepped in and took over. She composed the song 'Tum Mujhe Bhool Bhi Jao..', recorded it and made the delivery on schedule time. It was but naturally, a hit. Besides singing in Hindi films, Sudha has sung in many regional languages also.

The most saddening part of her career was that by singing more of children songs and motherly numbers in movies like: Ab Dilli Door Nahin, Andher Nagri Chaupat Raja, Jeevan Saathi and Masoom, Sudha was labelled as a "typed singer". But determined Sudha proved everybody wrong. Her bhajan in Kala Pani 'Na Main Dhan Chahun..' became immensely popular. She sang the famous qawwali 'Ishq Ishq..' in the film Barsat Ki Raat. This song was recorded for a period of twenty-nine continuous hours. She was awarded the Kala Bhushan award by Gyani Zail Singh, the then president of India.

paljay ji,Thank you so much for adding Suman Kalyanpur to the thread yes indeed she is a legend.

Remembering Vocalist Shamshad Begum

Author: Saleem Malik from Muslim on April 26th 1996

Strange are the vicissitudes of life, especially the ups and downs in the world of showbiz that those artistes who used to bask in the sunshine of glory, glamour and fame, were forgotten soon after their eclipse from the chart of popularity.

Ever since the advent to talkies (sound motion pictures) in the sub-continent, many heart-throbs of the millions have now slipped into historical oblivion, and very few among music buffs remember those glittering stars of yesteryears whose glow once brightened the entire firmament of showbiz.

Vocalist Shamshad Begum, whose sparkling melodies used to cast hypnotic spells on music buffs and movie-goers some 35 years ago, in now languishing in the murk of obscurity in a Bombay suburb. Forgotten by the movie moghuls, composers and cine-goers, the septuagenarian crooner is spending the evening of her life almost unnoticed.

Shamshad Begum ruled the roost, first at Lahore and later at Bombay, when Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhonsle were not even introduced in the film-world. She was the first female singer who assumed the status of a legend during her lifetime. With the help of her highly individualistic and charismatic personality, glow and a certain vivacity in her voice, she became the most sought-after female playback singer in the late 30s, 40s and 50s.

It was on Dec 16, 1937, when radio made its debut from Lahore and so did Shamshad Begum. Singing solos and duets with Umrazia Begum (who later became Mrs. Ghulam Haider), the Amritsar-born Shamshad Begum captivated the hearts of listeners with the enchanting depth of her voice which then had no parallel.

When she was in her teens, she shifted from Amritsar to Lahore where she soon became the first playback singer ever to lend her voice for the movies produced in Lahore. The then AIR Lahore helped her in penetrating the world of movies as frequent broadcasting of her songs induced music directors to use her voice for film songs. Shamshad Begum also recorded naats and devotional songs for a couple of gramophone recording companies which where then located in Bakshi Market of Anarkali, Lahore.

Lahore-based composer Ghulam Haider used her voice skillfully in some of his earlier films, mostly in Punjabi. The songs "Kankaan deyaan faslaan pakkiaan nain", when recalled, still create nostalgic fondness among senior denizens. Another composition of Master Ghulam Haider for which Shamshad Begum lent her voice was a "aya, hai bulaawa mujhe darbar-e-nabi se", which became very popular in the late 30s.

When the late Masterji shifted to Bombay in 1944, Shamshad Begum went with him as a member of his team. Both of them rose to heights of fame in the film capital of India. In 1944, when Mehboob Khan launched his historical venture, "Humayun", Shamshad Begum's voice was used by Master Ghulam Haider for the recording of that movie's songs. The song "nainaan bhar aaye neer" sung by Shamshad became a superhit.

That was the time when Amirbai Karnataki was considered number one playback singer in Bombay, and a majority of actresses used to croon songs picturised on them. With the introduction of Shamshad Begum in the filmworld in Bombay, contemporary composers almost fell over each other in booking her for the recording of their songs.

For almost three decades, Shamshad Begum reigned supreme in the world of film music in the subcontinent. Frontline composers like Master Ghulam Haider, Naushad Ali, O.P.Nayyar, C. Ramachandra used Shamshad Begum's voice which was then regarded as one of the guarantees for the success of a film.

The stark, almost unbearably tender "Ek tera sahara" (Ghulam Haider in the film "Shamaa"), the buoyant sophistication of the song "Nainaa bhar aye neer" (Master Ghulam Haider in "Humayun"), the open sadness of the song "Duniya badal gayi" (Naushad Ali in "Babul), the sparkling vivacity of "Kajra mohabbat wala" (O P Nayyar in "Qismat"), and the pathetic beseeching of a lover in "Ye afsaana nahi zaalim" (Naushad Ali in "Dard") are some of the extremely poignant reminders of Shamshad Begum's sonic versatility. Her other popular songs included "Kabhi aar kabhi paar laaga teer-e-nazar", "Reshmi salwar kudtaa jaali ka", "Bachpan ke din bhula na dena", "Chaman mein rahkar bhi", which still retain their freshness. With the wide range of her voice, Shamshad's command over her vocal resources sounded complete