October 4, 2011
The year is 1945. Music director Bimal Biswas, known for his punctuality, is ready at the studio. Musicians and technicians are ready. Only the new singer is missing. Biswas controls his anger since the young man is a relative's friend. But how irresponsible can a first time singer get! Bimal-da sends errand boys to locate the guy. The find him totally drunk in a seedy Mumbai bar and carry him to the studio.
An hour of scolding and verbal abuse from the composer brings the aspirant singer back to some sense. He confesses: "How can I sing this song like Saigal without drinking like Saigal?" The entire studio laughs. But the young man was serious. He records the song. He voice and style match Saigal's so much that months later when Saigal hears the song he wonders when he had recorded it! Who is this young singer who went on find his own voice and immortalized several Hindi film songs in the next decades?
I will get to the answer at the end of this note. But first the story of how I got to this story.
I don't know Andrej Pejic; I have only read hir (not a typo) interview. I have stared long and hard at posters of Milind Soman, but that's because Madhu Sapre or Shweta Menon were in them too. My point is that I haven't rubbed shoulders, much less anything else, with models. So imagine my surprise this morning when I walked into Dyna Studio opposite the Reserver Bank of India to find, staring down at me from a glass frame above the reception area, a very familiar face.
He was the left half of an "exemplary" marriage photo that the studio was showcasing in the classic reverse scooter riding pose that new couples are photographed. One of the most straightforward guys in school, he had the most unfortunate nickname owing to his appearance. This was amplified by the fact that his mother happened to be (and continues to be) one of the most popular and pretty beauticians in town. Well, that was a decade and a half ago. Today, here he was, a content young man even the black suit and black bow tie. The lovely bride did not look any bit flustered about this dude standing right behind her. Very different from the situation back in school, indeed.
Needless to say, this photograph filled me with confidence about this studio. They should be able to make me presentable for the numerous identity cards I am to apply in the near future, I thought.
Indian life demands so many cards for smooth survival that it is no wonder that most people become gamblers. The fact that Kauvaryas asked for a hundred identity proving cards from the Pandavas, inducing the compulsive gambling, has been conveniently left out from the Mahabharatha.
I needed a PAN card to open a bank account and two more photos in the bank's application form. The photographer at the studio did not use more light than the camera flash. Lighting dim. "Thazhottu nokku" (look down), "Munpottu varu" (come forward), "melottu nokku" (look up), these were the only three basic instructions I had to follow. I have followed more in the past on camera. So this was easy. Then right before the moment of truth, two more: "Santoshamayittu; kannadakkale" (Be happy; don't close your eyes).Oh yes! I have certainly heard these before!
After the act, I chatted with the photographer about my framed friend on his wall. He called it a good work. He had been to our school to take the annual class photographs in the early 1980s. Owing to the desi fad of uploading those group photos from 80s and 90s to facebook, I am sure some of his work have gained a digital avatar. I wonder if there is ongoing research in psychology and criminology that finds the correlation between expressions, gestures and body language in those school photos and later life behavior. It is easy to spot the geeks and the drama queens. Identifying the artists and the rapists certainly needs research. But it can't be more difficult that Zen Nippon University's method of sexing chicks.
Both the photographer's kids had recently finished attending our school. He reiterated the usual Indian mantra of falling standards. Amma was tasked with collecting the photos in the evening. 100 bucks for 25 passport-size and a dozen stamp-size photos.
From the studio, I headed to the bank. On the way, the abandoned, dilapedated building of "Kerala Olympic Association". Rusted parallel bars in the yard. Rat-chewed, faded and cracked leather pommel horses on the verandah. Overgrown, encroaching grass, vines and shrubs that could use some real horses. A cemetry of someone good intentions...or may be, blind ambitions and puerile illusions.
At the bank building, the elevator operator today must have been a public bus conductor recently. He was quickly losing patience with and ordering around the people trying to use his "vehicle" today. Through the glass windows of the 3rd floor, while waiting at the bank, three tile-roofed, old houses nearby can be seen. This is prime real estate, easily worth tens of crores, that is being held on to. I wonder for how long. Wherever roof tiles have been damaged, metallic sheets take over: Bandaged roofs.
From the bank, few minutes of walk to the book store building at Statue junction. Same building houses tbs books in the ground floor and the better established and older DC books upstairs. Spotted a book at tbs that Achan had been looking for some time now, but did not have enough cash to purchase it. The sales lady offered 20% discount. I was still 200 bucks short! Rather high price tag for a book dealing with the history of the Nair community. This is a glorifying one unlike Robin Jeffrey's narrative of the collapse of the Nair influence that I had mentioned few notes ago. Leafing through the book told me that Mrinalini Sarabhai is a Nair. I didn't know that she was a Malayalee. In that instant, from that knowledge, Mallika Sarabhai gained a few milliHelens! Note to self: watch Peter Brook's Mahabharata again.
Went upstairs to browse DC books collection. Lot of alluring "complete works" collections. Should go back another day with enough cash. Found a collection of 19 essays by Ravi Menon on old Hindi film music. The foreward was by O.N.V Kurup and afterword by M.T. Vasudevan Nair. I was sold. And I did have Rs. 70 with me. Since I had engaged with tbs folks earlier, I went downstairs for the purchase. Luckily they also had a copy of the aptly titled "So jaa rajakumari"!
Most of the afternoon was spent reading the essays and listening to the songs mentioned in it on youtube. In between, Parvathy aunty called from Bangalore. When she had come down for Tara's wedding, I had told her about these daily notes. Finally, she managed to find time in her busy schedule to join G+ and read a few. Kind words of encouragement and appreciation! Much gratitude!
Amma brought home the photographic evidence of my appearance in the evening. A faction of my remaining hair is rising up in revolt. May be they are fleeing. May be it is the invisible neutrinos. On second thoughts, it looks like beginning stages of the 'mun-kudumi' or 'sikha', the tuft of hair worn front and side by men of different communities in southern India for centuries. This historical knowledge will do just fine as solace from nowon for my intermittent balding pangs.
Now to answer the musical trivia question straight out of the first pages of 'So jaa rajakumari': Mukesh Chand Mathur or simply, Mukesh! Here's that drunk young man's song, the influence of Saigal is clear:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yu0ibF46cio
I'll share more musical trivia and songs in the coming days. And Happy 135th Birthday, Texas A&M University!
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