IF YOU WANT TO BE HEARD, NEVER SING IN THE CHORUS

Stories of super-stardom touch the heart, particularly when they are tinged with a narrative of heartwarming struggle, thoughtful gestures and incredible foresight. This is a story which is unique for it has elements of all three narratives.

This was a time when Amitabh Bachchan was struggling to gain a foothold in the film industry.  He would do the rounds of film studios, approach film producers and directors asking them for even a small role, any role in their upcoming films. Among the many studios he would go to was where Shashi Kapoor would be shooting. Amitabh had built a fledgling friendship with the star son who himself had just about become a bankable hero in the film industry.

Shashi Kapoor felt very comfortable around Amitabh, impressed by his humility and the dedication he exuded towards finding his own space in the industry. His father, Prithviraj Kapoor already held Amitabh’s father, Harvanshrai Bachchan in high esteem, and following in their footsteps, Shashi Kapoor and Amitabh Bachchan  too, valued their newfound friendship.

One day, when Shashi Kapoor walked onto the film set where his film was being shot, he saw that a crowd scene was being shot…and was completely taken aback to see that Amitabh Bachchan was among one in the crowd.

After the shot was canned, he called Amitabh aside and asked him what he was doing. Amitabh explained that he had managed to convince the director to let him too be a part of an agitating crowd. Shashi Kapoor told Amitabh bluntly that if he had come here to become a hero, then doing such bit roles would irreparably harm his career. He would be slotted as an extra, a character artiste who would never be taken seriously as an actor.

Amitabh heard him out in silence, and then sheepishly told him that he had no choice. He knew all the arguments Shashi had put forth, but was forced to do it as he was running very low on finances. in fact, his very survival in the city was at stake. Shashi Kappor offered him the money, even telling him that he could consider it a loan – but Amitabh had his pride and he wouldn’t listen to him. Once he finished all the crowd scenes, he collected his payment, said his byes to Shashi Kapoor and left the set.

Shashi Kapoor however wasn’t done as yet. He immediately met the director of the film and told him in no uncertain terms that Amitabh was destined for greater things. So he, the director had to ensure that every identifiable shot of Amitabh’s would be edited out from the film.

After all, if his friend's voice had to be heard, how could he let him sing in the chorus?

The accompanying song is from the movie "Suhaag," a Manmohan Desai film which does full justice to their friendship - both on and off screen.

AY YAAR SUN, YAARI TERI

THE ONE-EYED JACK WHO BECAME THE ACE OF COMEDY

It is now a matter of film legend that the name Badruddin Jamaluddin Kazi made the journey from a bus conductor to a comedy king, thanks to Guru Dutt. He was the one who had not just noticed the unique mannerisms of this young man, he had also given him the screen name of Johnny Walker. Under Guru Dutt’s guidance, Johnny Walker’s career prospered as special roles were scripted for him to provide comic relief as a contrast to Guru Dutt’s serious, brooding themes. Often, entire songs were composed and picturized on Johnny Walker and audiences all over India looked forward to his appearance on the silver screen.

Everyone knows his job as a bus conductor was instrumental in his being spotted by Balraj Sahni who had introduced him to Guru Dutt. But what is unknown to most people is that the young Badruddin had almost missed out on getting employed by BEST. It’s a story that is a testament to his determination and quick thinking that had enabled him to get that job, besides of course his natural histrionic abilities.

When Johnny Walker had received the letter stating that he had been shortlisted for the conductor’s job, he was delighted. But a little line at the bottom bothered him a bit…for it said that the final selection of the candidate depended on their clearance of a medical test that would be conducted over the next few days. He had been intimated the details of the date and venue where the test would be conducted.

The reason for Johnny Walker’s discomfiture was a secret he had kept from others for the longest time. His vision in one eye had deteriorated to such an extent that it was now almost zero. While his other eye had perfect vision, all that the weak one provided for an image was a blur…a hopelessly out of focus blur. Johnny Walker wondered whether the medical examination would also comprise of a vision test.

He went early to the medical centre, hoping to find out more and keeping his fingers crossed that eyes would be exempt from testing. Within seconds, his hopes were dashed to the ground as the assistant at the centre confirmed his worst fears. He rubbed it in by saying, “Of course, the eyes are tested, the conductor has to see where the bus has reached, see the bus fares on the ticket… you think a visually impaired person can do the job.” On further prodding, he revealed that the candidates would have to read the letters off a chart on the wall. The letters would be in differing sizes…and yes, each eye would be tested separately.

Johnny Walker sat down with his head in his hands. There was no way his weak eye could bridge that distance and send recognizable images to his brain. It seemed as if the bus conductor’s job was not destined to be his. He had almost resigned to leaving the place when he noticed the bat wing doors of the doctor’s clinic open…and there, on the opposite wall, he spotted his nemesis – the chart of letters in decreasing size. He noticed that every time the doors swung open, he was able to see the letters with his good eye. And that’s when an idea struck him.  

He was the first person in the group of young men, all gathered for their medical checkups, but when it started, he politely gestured to the person sitting next to him in a style typical of a Luckhnowi Nawab, “Pehle Aap!” In the few seconds that he got when the doors opened, he studied the chart intently, memorizing the letters from the top.

S-J-R-B. The first line had entered his brain. Now he shut his eyes and visualized them in his mind, repeating softly to himself, “S-J-R-B.”

He kept doing this repeatedly, till the first line had burned like an image on to his mind. When it was the turn of the next person, Johnny again allowed another person to go ahead, stealing a glance at the chart. “E-L-M-Y,” it read. Johnny memorized these six letters as well and then started repeating from the top - S-J-R-B-E-L-M-Y.

He continued this until lines three and four also became slave to his memory. Now it was the last line that he needed to learn. But try as much as he could, the last line simply eluded him. He narrowed his eyes, then covered the weak eye with his hand…but all to no avail. The last line was just too far away from him.

He knew now that he could get at these letters only when he sat down for the eye exam. Now, when the next person’s turn came, Johnny Walker stepped up. After all, the other letters had just recently been committed to memory…so it made sense to read them out right away. Entering the room, he immediately peered at the last row on the chart.

The doctor began asking him the customary questions. Johnny knowing he didn’t have too much time, answered the questions, while he memorized the last line.

Name?  Badruddin Jamalludin Kazi….D-P-F-U

Date of birth: 11^th November, 1926… D-P-F-U

Age? Twenty two years… D-P-F-U

Once all the information had been collected, the doctor came up to cover one of his eyes. Johnny hoped desperately that he would cover the one with near zero vision. But today, was not the day for Johnny to keep his fingers crossed. As his good eye was covered, Johnny dug deep into his mind for the combined image of the letters.  

“S-J-R-B-E-L-M-Y-K-Q-I-C-V-N-X-G.” Then, pausing for breath, he read off the last four letters, not from the chart but from his mind, “D-P-F-U.”

The doctor then covered the other eye, but reading with the good eye was just a formality. If Johnny wanted to shut both eyes and read from the chart, he could have done that too. But he had to keep up the appearance of a normal-sighted man, a man with 20-20 vision. So he read the chart again, passed the test and strode out with the appointment letter in his hand.

Johnny Walker – the man nearly blind in one eye, had just taken an eye test in his stride.

This song filmed on Johnny Walker has shades of irony in it where he laments that while so many other things were not seen by the world, he was spotted by everybody the minute he had a little to drink. Well Johnny Saab, nobody knew how you passed your eye exam, till you decided to reveal the secret. Hats off to you!  

JUNGLE MEIN MOR NAACHA

THE SINGER WHOSE CAREER DIDN”T TAKE OFF THANKS TO HIS ACTING

While there are any number of people who’ve come to Bombay in the hopes of becoming a big movie star, not all have succeeded in having their face projected onto the movie screen. They’ve gone on to make a name for themselves in Bollywood – some as successful film directors, others as cameramen and some as dance or fight directors.

Then of course for every Dev Anand or Rajesh Khanna who made it big, there are several hundreds who remained where they started in Bollywood – as spot boys or canteen waiters hanging on the periphery of the industry, hoping to be noticed by a big shot.

This is the story of a man who wanted to become an actor, definitely had the looks to become a hero and so, enrolled himself in the Film Institute of India at Pune to learn the craft of acting. What he also had going for him was another talent – one where he could more than carry off a tune.  And when he was in his second year at the Film Institute, Lady Luck really smiled on him.

The name of the young man was Shailendra Singh and his father's friend, a Mr V P Sathe who was among the script writers for RK Films, recommended him to Raj Kapoor. 

Raj Kapoor’s last film, “Mera Naam Joker” had failed miserably at the box office in 1970, and he now resolved to make “Bobby” – as a launch pad for his second son, Rishi Kapoor. And as all the male stars of those times had established voices giving playback vocals for them, he wanted a completely fresh voice for his son.

Remembering V P Sathe’s recommendation, he asked him to call the young fellow over to meet him. Shailendra Singh who till that time had only recorded a few private ghazals for HMV, performed them in front of Raj Kapoor. He was impressed enough by the voice of the young singer to ask him his name. On learning that his name was Shailendra, Raj Kapoor’s eyes turned wistful at remembering his old friend, the lyricist, Shailendra who had passed away some years ago. He said so to Shailendra, “Aaj tumne mujhe mere yaar ki yaad dila di.”

Without further delay, he introduced Shailendra Singh to Laxmikant Pyarelal and told them that his was the voice that would playback for Rishi Kapoor in “Bobby.” Now Laxmikant Pyarelal were caught in a bind – this was the first prestigious assignment they had bagged for R K Films. And they would certainly not want to risk it with a rank newcomer…in fact they were already thinking of using Mohammad Rafi’s for the Rishi Kapoor songs.

But Raj Kapoor was adamant – and finally every Rishi Kapoor song, a solo or a duet, had Shailendra Singh lending the vocals.

When the music of the movie released, it broke all records of that time – and every song of the movie was a runaway hit. The album was being played everywhere – from Durga Pooja Pandals in the East, wedding festivities in the North to tourist buses in the South. In the West of India, needless to say, it seemed as if it was playing in a continuous loop.

The next singing sensation had arrived – or so it had seemed.

But most inexplicably, Shailendra Singh’s career never reached the heights it had promised. His next project was a movie produced by his father named “Agreement” where he starred opposite Rekha and also sung the songs filmed on himself. But the movie tanked very badly and its music too was no great shakes. In a matter of weeks, it had undone the starry heights that he had reached as a singer.

Subsequent films like “Do Jasoos” in which he acted went further in denting his stardom. From a voice with great potential, he became the second choice to singers like Mohammad Rafi and Kishore Kumar. Yes, he would notch up the occasional hit song like “Humne Tumko Dekha” from “Khel Khel Mein” or “Gunche Lage Hain Kehne” from “Tarana” and “Hoga Tumse Pyara Kaun” from “Zamane Ko Dikhana Hain.”

It is sad indeed that anyone familiar with Hindi film music will acknowledge that Shailendra Singh the singer, was capable of a far greater body of work than history has gone on to record.  

Here is the song that had propelled him to singing stardom  from the film "Bobby."

MAIN SHAYAR TOH NAHIN

A DEBT THAT TURNED INTO POETIC JUSTICE

There are numerous tales of struggle in Bollywood, of people who have travelled from far-off places in search of their place under the arc lights, with a dream to see their name somewhere on the credit titles of a movie screen. Writers, actors, poets or musicians – every aspirant plying his art has usually played the waiting game for the first lucky break, that one chance one gets to prove his mettle in front of a harsh industry.

Then there are tales of the established stars, those who have proved their talent and made it big in their chosen field. In the newcomers, they recognize their own arduous climb to the top, the day-to-day struggles and battles they were once a part of. 

Sahir Ludhianvi was one such poet, who after many years of facing failures and rejection, had established a name for himself in the Hindi film industry. He knew just how difficult it was for a new poet to even get a meeting with an A-grade producer or director, let alone convincing them to listen to their verse. He understood how the industry worked – nobody wanted to back a rank newcomer, everyone wanted proven talent on their team and this was even more so with music directors who all had paired off with their own favourite songwriters.  Breaking into these established cliques was a Herculean task.

So when a young Javed Akhtar approached him, more for advice and guidance than for any other support, Sahir saw in the young man an embodiment of himself.  In his worn out chappals, Sahir saw the many rounds the young Javed must have made of studios or of music directors’ homes. Shaking hands with him, he recognized the roughened texture of the thumb and forefinger that comes from countless hours of battling the blank page. And in his eyes, Sahir saw the same fierce desire to succeed, the same enthusiasm to carve his own niche among the pantheon of Bollywood poets and songwriters.

So he heard Javed Akhtar patiently like a true mentor – reading the verses penned by him, offering his critique wherever required and then discussing with him the form, metre and structure of his poems. It was an invaluable discussion that Javed Akhtar would remember for the rest of his life. After all, when one receives encouraging words from one’s idol, anyone would be entitled to feel he had just leaped over the moon.

Javed Akhtar thanked Sahir Ludhianvi profusely, shaking his hands excitedly like a little child would…and that’s when he felt the rustle of paper between their hands. Realising that Sahir Ludhianvi had placed two hundred rupees in his hand, Javed Akhtar protested vehemently – he had come to him for guidance, not for any monetary support. He tried his best to give the money back to Sahir, but he refused telling the teenager that he knew how hard life for a young poet must be in a city like Bombay. But Javed persisted on returning the money.

Finally Sahir told the young Javed to consider it a loan and to repay it whenever he could, recognising that the fierce, independent spirit of the young Javed was also worth supporting.  

For many years after that, this ‘loan’ of two hundred rupees became a running joke between the mentor and his disciple. Sahir Ludhianvi had gone on to become one of the greatest poets the Hindi film industry had ever produced and Javed Akhtar too had found his place in Bollywood as a hotshot scriptwriter, teaming up with Salim Khan to become the highest paid scriptwriters in the industry.

Whenever Sahir met him, Javed would remind him about the two hundred rupees and rib him gently that he was not going to return the money to him. Sahir too, with a twinkle in his eye, would reply that he would ensure that he would take his money back from Javed, one day or the other. Both of them would have a hearty laugh over this, and though the two hundred rupees lost their value due to inflation, this joke between them never lost its currency of good humour.

The years rolled by quickly and eventually, the day came when Sahir Ludhianvi passed away, making the journey to regale the Lord above with his prose and poetry. He had led a lonely life, and now as his body was taken to the cemetery to be interred, Javed Akhtar was among one of the pall bearers.

As the last rites concluded, Javed Akhtar turned away from the grave with the rest of the crowd, when he heard a couple of men call out to him. He went up to them and noted a nervous hesitancy between them to talk about the issue with Javed Akhtar. It turned out that they were the two gravediggers who had just dug the grave for Sahir Ludhianvi. And their payment was pending. Reaching for his wallet, Javed asked them the price of their labour.

“Two hundred rupees,” was their reply. As Javed Akhtar paid the money to the grateful men, his lips curled in a wry smile…his wily mentor had kept his word and recovered his loan after all! 

MAIN PAL DO PAL KA SHAYAR HOON

THE ONLY MAN WHO TOOK ON THE NAME OF A BRAND…AND THEN BECAME ONE HIMSELF.

He was born Badruddin Jamaluddin Kazi in Indore on November 11^th, 1926. Little did he know, even when he grew to be a teenager, that the world would know him, not by that name but by a brand that itself was born in 1820.

That brand was Johnny Walker – the whiskey that had the striding man as its logo and which in about 100 years time, would have a comic genius taking on its mantle. The story of how he got his name is an unusual one…considering he had tried his hand at several professions. In some cases, he deserted the professions, in several others, his professions deserted him.


Until the time, he became a bus conductor, where he seemed to have found his calling. It was a daily routine where he met hundreds of new people every day, issued them tickets to their destinations, rang the bell with authority to signal its onward journey. And in probably the most enjoyable part of the job – announce each stop in that quirky, ringing voice that would soon become his signature. Often he would regale the crowd with some rudimentary comic routines. And considering that a bus conductor always stands – he was probably the world's first stand-up comic.

One sunny day in 1950 though, his luck was about to take a dramatic turn. It was the day when Balraj Sahni, then an actor and script writer of some repute, happened to board the bus. He noticed Badruddin Jamaluddin Kazi going about his job, managing difficult passengers with consummate wit and panache. From a distance, he silently observed the young conductor’s carefree attitude to his job, reflecting the cheerful disposition with which he faced life. As he took his time issuing tickets to the other passengers, Balraj Sahni’s mind was made up…the conductor seemed perfect for a part in the script that he had just written. 

The film was Baazi and it was being directed by Guru Dutt.

After the bus conductor had issued him his ticket, Balraj Sahni asked him, a trifle tentatively, whether he had ever considered acting…on the stage or in films? Badruddin was more than a little amused – he’d never give it a thought, but if the job meant a decent enough wage, sure…why not…he would be open to doing it. 

Balraj Sahni didn’t want to get the young man's hopes too high, so he told him that he would have to go through an audition first – a process where the director of the film would see whether he was right for the part. Having established that, he quickly wrote out the name of the studio where Guru Dutt was casting for his latest film.

On the appointed day, Balraj Sahni introduced Badruddin Jamaluddin Kazi to Guru Dutt as the bus conductor who wanted to try his hand at films. Guru Dutt had a wry smile on his face...if this man could pull it off, this could be a quite a change in career path – from buses to acting in films. He found the man extremely likable and hoped he would do well in the audition.

He explained the role to him; it was that of a staggering drunk, a person who has taken solace in drinking, to such an extent, that his actions bring comic relief to others. The character, he explained, should be played in a manner that evokes laughter from the audience, but does it without making him seem like a buffoon.         

Badruddin launched into the scene, relying heavily on his own observations from life in impoverished surroundings. He had lived in them long enough to know the difference between an alcoholic who cuts a tragic figure and one who lends a charm to the vice of drinking. He knew he had to aim for the adorable drunk and in the very first attempt – he nailed the scene.

Guru Dutt had never seen anything like it before. Here was a man with no acting experience whatsoever, playing the role of a drunk as if he had been brought up on scotch instead of a milk bottle. He applauded his appreciation, telling Badruddin that the role in the film was his.

“But we’ve got to do something about your name,” Guru Dutt said. “A name like Badruddin belongs to the Moghul era…so what if we were to introduce you as…er, Johnny Walker?“ he asked. Badruddin had been so happy that he’d got the part, why would he queer the pitch by objecting to the change in name, it would be his screen name, after all.  His friends and family would still call him Badruddin.

Once the casting of the film was done, Guru Dutt hosted a small party to celebrate the launch of the film, Baazi…and it was here he discovered an astounding fact. The man who had just mesmerized him with his acting as a drunk, the man he had baptized as Johnny Walker did not drink alcohol at all.

In fact, he had not tasted a single drop of liquor in his life. And while he acted in many a role of a singing, lovable drunkard, he remained a teetotaler over his entire lifetime. Johnny Walker, the striding man could sleepwalk into the role of a drunk…and he didn't need a drink to get into the ‘skin’ of the character. 

Here then is the most lovable song of Johnny Walker from Guru Dutt's classic, Pyaasa where he enacted the role of a Tel-maalishwallah is his inimitable style.

SAR JO TERA CHAKRAYE

THE GREATEST COMPLIMENT EVER PAID BY A MUSIC DIRECTOR

There is a reason why the bygone era of film music in Bombay – the period from the early fifties to the late seventies is regarded as the golden era - one that has been so rich in evergreen melodies and memorable tunes. This era has given us a vast ocean of songs that are hummed and sung even today – one can dive into the ocean endlessly and come up with a pearl, every time.

One wonders what was it about those times that has conferred immortality on those songs. Was it because they were based on Indian ragas? Or was it because music then was a genuine passion – not a mere vehicle to earn money or fame. Or could the reason be that musicians of those times leaned more on their talent rather than be supported by technology? The answer probably is all of the above.

Then, there is the other big factor – competition. Those were times when music directors like Anil Biswas,Vasant Desai, Chitagupt, Ravi, Jaidev and Roshan had already laid the foundations of Hindi film music. They were followed by stalwarts like Naushad, O P Nayyar, Madan Mohan, Shankar Jaikishan, Salil Chowdhary and S D Burman who had a mutual respect for each other and an appreciation for each other’s music. Each one was spurred to greater heights by the other’s compositions. When Naushad delivered classical gems for Baiju Bawra, Shankar Jaikishan would respond by creating the music of Basant Bahar. When Madan Mohan or O P Nayyar created sublime compositions for their film assignments, there would always be a Salil Chowdhary  or an S D Burman tune that would not allow them to become complacent.   

In those days, Hindi film music was blessed by the hand of God – and its music directors were like true devotees who had immersed themselves completely into its art.

The following story illustrates the depth of feelings that music directors from that era had for their peers. It was a song composed by Madan Mohan for the film Anpadh, a film starring Dharmendra and Mala Sinha that released in 1962. The album had immortal classics like “Aap Ki Nazron Ne Samjha” and “Jiya Le Gayo Ji Mora Sanwariya.” But it was the other ghazal sung by Lata Mangeshkar, that left Naushad speechless when he heard it.

He asked Madan Mohan to play the song for him again and he heard it this time with his eyes closed, as if he was trying to absorb every note, every word from this classic song steeped in sadness. When it was over, he nodded his approval to Madan Mohan and then said to him, “ Such a wonderful song, I wish I had composed it.”

And then followed it up by saying, “If I could claim the credit for this one song, I would willingly hand over the credit of my entire music over to you.” Saying this, Naushad turned and left the room, leaving a very embarrassed and beaming Madan Mohan behind to ruminate over this compliment. A compliment that was the greatest any music director could hope to receive.

The ghazal, deserving of such high praise from Naushad is "Hai Isi Mein Pyar Ki Aabroo" and you can see it via the link below.

HAI ISI MEIN PYAR KI AABROO 

THE MOST FEARED VILLAIN WHOSE FIRST LIP-SYNC SONG WAS A COMIC RIOT

Everyone has heard the legend of how parents from the late fifties and sixties had stopped naming their cherubic sons – the name Pran.  A word that meant life itself had been outlawed as an option by new parents – all because of the sheer realism that was Pran’s acting.

The last time this had happened, it was with the name Raavan.

Who knew what it was about him? The menace in his piercing eyes, the dread in his rough baritone, the way his lip curled to reveal his dastardly motives… even his pencil-thin moustache had an aura of evil about it. He was beyond doubt, the greatest villain the Indian film screen has ever seen.

And as a villain, he is probably among the few bad men who in the midst of their meanness have also been seen shaking a leg and crooning songs in outlandish situations. As a good guy, one is expected to carry off a tune, but as a villain?

Most people think that Pran’s first lip-sync song as a villain is the iconic song from Half Ticket, “AAKE  SEEDHI LAGI JAISE,” a song that is memorable for Kishore Kumar crossing all boundaries of gender while rendering both the male and female voices perfectly.  But Half Ticket was released as late as 1962.

Others think it is the song from Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai, where Pran is seen singing with Raj Kapoor and Padmini in the classic song, “HAI AAG HUMARE SEENE MEIN.” But this song too is not Pran’s first lip-sync song and it certainly does not have one laughing his guts out.

As far I remember, Pran’s first lip sync song was in the hit Dev Anand starrer, Munimji where he is conned into singing by a suave Dev Anand and a sly Nalini Jaywant who keep egging him on to sing with false praise. The result is a cinematic gem – a song where Pran though playing the villain in the film, has audiences rolling in the aisles with his wayward Tansen act.

For a good laugh, you can see the song here. While Hemant Kumar and Geeta Dutt are the playback voices for the lead roles, a Mr Thakur is credited as the voice for Pran. Several years later though, Pran is believed to have confessed in an interview that he had indeed sung the song. The music of the film Munimji was by S D Burman and it released in 1955.

DIL KI UMANGEIN HAIN JAWAN