Raju Korti
I had my first dekko of the satiny-smooth Talat Mehmood sometime in 1980 when the Ghazal virtuoso was in Nagpur to deliver a concert while I happened to be there to cover a session of the State Legislature. My use of the word "dekko" has a special rhythm and import to it. I intended to meet the polished and handsome frame from "Sone Ki Chidya" more as a bewitched admirer than a journalist keen to interview him. Little wonder then that Talat had to keep nodding his head most of the time as a hypnotized me rattled off about his songs as if there was no tomorrow.
An air of expectancy had filled me like never before and I wondered about him and his craft, trying to cobble up a coherent string of words in order to strike a raging conversation with him. The door was opened by Talat himself with his equally good looking son Khalid in tow. Both sported mildly amused expressions probably because they didn't expect to bump into a journalist there. Maybe they thought it was one of those regulation interviews they had to go through the motions of. But I had done my homework well so the cobwebs were brushed aside in no time.
After a small talk, the confusion-confounded and not-so-sure looks on Talat's face vanished and the face that I had grew up admiring wore an animated look. The session lasted over two hours during which I also managed to click a couple of pictures with them.
Reams have been written about Talat Mehmood and his craft as Ghazal King, a sobriquet that sat pretty on his sleeves. It is not my case here to reel out the details of what transpired in that meeting but to create atmospheric visuals of that compelling engagement.
The first thing that struck me about him was he spoke rather fast, often sounding like he was flabbergasted about something. He seemed earnest to make a point that was illustrated with the flurry of his index finger. His being in consonance with me reflected in the frequent but dazzling smiles his magnetic face lighted up with. The Talat Mehmood I had met up with was a sort of anti-thesis of the picture I had conjured up in my pre-conceived mind. That image was made up on the languid and dulcet vocals that came to be famously acknowledged as patently his through a matching demeanor that he personified on the celluloid. I was fed on the quintessential Talat Mehmood born to sing "Pyar par bas to nahi hai mera lekin phir bhi" and "Ye mere andhere ujaale na hote." Of course, I could list every other song that seemed to have been created for him and him alone. I say this because of the oft-mentioned controversy on the Burman Dada's Sujata gem "Jalte hain jiske liye" where the composer was more intent on Mohammed Rafi. But somewhere at the back of his mind, Talat had to demolish Dada's prejudiced mind. He did that and how!
Not C Ramchandra, not Salil Choudhari, not Madan Mohan not Pandit Govindram, not Shankar-Jaikishen, not Khayyam or not even Anil Biswas. My Talat Mehmood lay elsewhere in the hands of the two composers commercially not in the same league. And I was dying to convey this to my hero who probably watched my kiddish song and dance with knowing smiles.
"Talatsaab I am besotted with your voice and each song is etched in my mind, but today I want to tell you that these three songs have me under a timeless spell." Of course, I felt terribly guilty and incommoded that I was not going to mention any of the bigwigs from his repertoire.
To begin with, I pyretically referred to Madan Mohan's Chhote Babu beauty "Do din ki muhabbat mein hamne kuchh khoya hai kuchh paya hai" and I got the feeling that the singer extraordinaire was dealing with a fan who had delved deeper in his armory. "And which are the others", he asked me on cue.
I rather sang out the first line of that 1958 film Maalik for which Ghulam Mohammed composed the very arresting "Zindagi ki qasam ho chuke unke hum" lip synched by the gentleman-hero-singer himself. For the next few minutes, I kept waxing as eloquent as I could to say how the crooner had summoned all the honey in his throat to sing that one. There is a strange mix of pathos and romanticism in the song that was designed only for Talat's unique, trembling voice. It transports the listener into a vacuous but tranquil world. Wasn't it the same film where Talat romanced in the tuneful company of the majestic Suraiyya to the charming rhythm of "Man dheere dheere gaaye re, maalum nahi kyon". I think the words were customized for the Talat persona. Even his romance was as dignified. Talat just watched my school-boyish enthusiasm and smiled. He must have met a legion but at that moment, I was with THE Talat Mehmood.
My other chosen ditty was from another obscure film called Chandi Ki Deewar (1964) where N Dutta, riding on Sahir's philosophy, got Talat to convince us "Ashkon mein jo paaya hai, wo geeto mein diya hai. Us par bhi suna hai ke zamaane ko gila hai." This is another number where Talat straddles words with the same intensity. Talat acknowledged with a shake of his head.
In the parting, I begged to be profusely excused for not dwelling as assiduously on so many other songs that continue to make air waves. I was happy that Talat understood how exercised I was about the songs I had mentioned to him.
The following day, I also attended his concert when in the midst of the milling admirers, he spotted me and shook his head in recognition. That nod and the affectionate arm that he put around me afterwards still gives me goose-bumps. His warmth exuded from his core beyond the jacket that he wore that day. Khalid watched this session without a single word but I sensed his appreciation in the cassette of his songs that he gifted to me.
My Mission Talat was truly and well accomplished when I met him again a few years later at his Bandra's Perry Cross road residence and the latter welcomed me with a wide smile that reached up to his twinkling eyes.
Talat's 800-odd songs are for a lifetime. His memories come peppered from Khalid, a friend on Facebook. A session with him is long overdue and my loss of this wonderful singer would be tempered by his straight take off on his father.
Pyaar karke nibhaanaa badi cheej hai
Dil ki duniyaa bhi aakhir koi cheej hai
Yeh na hogaa ke ham unse munh mod len
Dor taqadeer ki baandh kar tod den
Aadami wo jo waade pe kaayam rahen
Zindagi ki kasam......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1XoEyrK-Dc
I had my first dekko of the satiny-smooth Talat Mehmood sometime in 1980 when the Ghazal virtuoso was in Nagpur to deliver a concert while I happened to be there to cover a session of the State Legislature. My use of the word "dekko" has a special rhythm and import to it. I intended to meet the polished and handsome frame from "Sone Ki Chidya" more as a bewitched admirer than a journalist keen to interview him. Little wonder then that Talat had to keep nodding his head most of the time as a hypnotized me rattled off about his songs as if there was no tomorrow.
After a small talk, the confusion-confounded and not-so-sure looks on Talat's face vanished and the face that I had grew up admiring wore an animated look. The session lasted over two hours during which I also managed to click a couple of pictures with them.
Reams have been written about Talat Mehmood and his craft as Ghazal King, a sobriquet that sat pretty on his sleeves. It is not my case here to reel out the details of what transpired in that meeting but to create atmospheric visuals of that compelling engagement.
The first thing that struck me about him was he spoke rather fast, often sounding like he was flabbergasted about something. He seemed earnest to make a point that was illustrated with the flurry of his index finger. His being in consonance with me reflected in the frequent but dazzling smiles his magnetic face lighted up with. The Talat Mehmood I had met up with was a sort of anti-thesis of the picture I had conjured up in my pre-conceived mind. That image was made up on the languid and dulcet vocals that came to be famously acknowledged as patently his through a matching demeanor that he personified on the celluloid. I was fed on the quintessential Talat Mehmood born to sing "Pyar par bas to nahi hai mera lekin phir bhi" and "Ye mere andhere ujaale na hote." Of course, I could list every other song that seemed to have been created for him and him alone. I say this because of the oft-mentioned controversy on the Burman Dada's Sujata gem "Jalte hain jiske liye" where the composer was more intent on Mohammed Rafi. But somewhere at the back of his mind, Talat had to demolish Dada's prejudiced mind. He did that and how!
Not C Ramchandra, not Salil Choudhari, not Madan Mohan not Pandit Govindram, not Shankar-Jaikishen, not Khayyam or not even Anil Biswas. My Talat Mehmood lay elsewhere in the hands of the two composers commercially not in the same league. And I was dying to convey this to my hero who probably watched my kiddish song and dance with knowing smiles.
"Talatsaab I am besotted with your voice and each song is etched in my mind, but today I want to tell you that these three songs have me under a timeless spell." Of course, I felt terribly guilty and incommoded that I was not going to mention any of the bigwigs from his repertoire.
To begin with, I pyretically referred to Madan Mohan's Chhote Babu beauty "Do din ki muhabbat mein hamne kuchh khoya hai kuchh paya hai" and I got the feeling that the singer extraordinaire was dealing with a fan who had delved deeper in his armory. "And which are the others", he asked me on cue.
I rather sang out the first line of that 1958 film Maalik for which Ghulam Mohammed composed the very arresting "Zindagi ki qasam ho chuke unke hum" lip synched by the gentleman-hero-singer himself. For the next few minutes, I kept waxing as eloquent as I could to say how the crooner had summoned all the honey in his throat to sing that one. There is a strange mix of pathos and romanticism in the song that was designed only for Talat's unique, trembling voice. It transports the listener into a vacuous but tranquil world. Wasn't it the same film where Talat romanced in the tuneful company of the majestic Suraiyya to the charming rhythm of "Man dheere dheere gaaye re, maalum nahi kyon". I think the words were customized for the Talat persona. Even his romance was as dignified. Talat just watched my school-boyish enthusiasm and smiled. He must have met a legion but at that moment, I was with THE Talat Mehmood.
My other chosen ditty was from another obscure film called Chandi Ki Deewar (1964) where N Dutta, riding on Sahir's philosophy, got Talat to convince us "Ashkon mein jo paaya hai, wo geeto mein diya hai. Us par bhi suna hai ke zamaane ko gila hai." This is another number where Talat straddles words with the same intensity. Talat acknowledged with a shake of his head.
In the parting, I begged to be profusely excused for not dwelling as assiduously on so many other songs that continue to make air waves. I was happy that Talat understood how exercised I was about the songs I had mentioned to him.
The following day, I also attended his concert when in the midst of the milling admirers, he spotted me and shook his head in recognition. That nod and the affectionate arm that he put around me afterwards still gives me goose-bumps. His warmth exuded from his core beyond the jacket that he wore that day. Khalid watched this session without a single word but I sensed his appreciation in the cassette of his songs that he gifted to me.
My Mission Talat was truly and well accomplished when I met him again a few years later at his Bandra's Perry Cross road residence and the latter welcomed me with a wide smile that reached up to his twinkling eyes.
Talat's 800-odd songs are for a lifetime. His memories come peppered from Khalid, a friend on Facebook. A session with him is long overdue and my loss of this wonderful singer would be tempered by his straight take off on his father.
Pyaar karke nibhaanaa badi cheej hai
Dil ki duniyaa bhi aakhir koi cheej hai
Yeh na hogaa ke ham unse munh mod len
Dor taqadeer ki baandh kar tod den
Aadami wo jo waade pe kaayam rahen
Zindagi ki kasam......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1XoEyrK-Dc
dearest raju garu,
ReplyDeleteas usual you always your reader lost in your writing, so very engrossed that he / she will not bother if a china broke right under the nose.
from the time you started writing about the three songs of your pick, i had moist eyes and found it rather difficult and irritating to wipe my eyes, wipe my reading glasses and continue reading and silently tearful.
you matched talat's voice word to word with your silky expression.
god bless you raju garu - " aisey hee pyaar bhara lekh - likhthey rehnaa "
warm musical regards,
ramesh narain kurpad
Captivating piece Raju, you have a flourish, that not many can match!
ReplyDeleteBrilliant piece of writing Raju ji.All the songs mentioned by you are on top of my favourite Talat saab songs. I will add one more--Mitne de meri zindagi from Meherbani.
ReplyDelete