The sound of music

Crass remixes are not tributes, for tributes are not self-serving.

Written by Suanshu Khurana | Published: September 18, 2018 1:08:56 am

Music, remixes, music remixes, old song remix, bollywood, bollywood songs, bollywood songs remix, indian express

Crass remixes are not tributes, for tributes are not self-serving.

The train’s whistle was the only sound that interrupted the thought process of Delhi’s famous courtesan, Sahibjaan (Meena Kumari), while she sang Chalte chalte, yun hi koi mil gaya tha in Kamal Amrohi’s Pakeezah (1972). In this seminal piece by composer Ghulam Mohammad and poet Kaifi Azmi, describing the contemplations of a courtesan in love, the world of Sahibjaan hinges on the steam engine’s whistle, which is often repeated through the film as a constant reminder of Saleem Ahmad’s (Raj Kumar) love note she found at her feet on a train, one that spoke of the beauty of her ghungroo-laden feet. It is a spectacular piece of music; set along a looped tabla groove in Keherva, and Lata Mangeshkar’s fine voice. It’s a memory still etched in the popular consciousness. If Sahibjaan, of her remote possibility of finding love, of finding the man who likes her despite ankle bells in her feet — the mark of a tawaif, back in the day, of a fallen woman.

A recent version of the song sung by Atif Aslam and composed by Tanishk Bagchi in director Nitin Kakkar’s upcoming film Mitron, has found much airtime and attention on social media. Even from Mangeshkar, who dismissed Aslam and Bagchi’s attempt. She raised the matter of consent and how no permission was sought before retouching the melody. Jackie Bhagnani, the lead actor, in a press conference, said: “We are taking them (the audience) back to Chalte Chalte, we are not spoiling the sanctity of the song… I hope Lata ji hears the song once.”

I certainly hope she doesn’t. The Mitron song, titled Chalte Chalte, is credited to Bagchi and is like any other piece of music floating around, until one hears the familiar notes of a tune incorporated into it. It isn’t unbearable, mostly because Aslam has left his nasal voice at home. But is it really a tribute and an effort to keep the old music alive or is it just a liquidation of ideas and a great marketing strategy? I believe it’s the latter.

It’s significant how composer Ghulam Mohammad used raag Bhoop and Kalyan for the composition. Bhoop is a Bhakti-ras raga, while Kalyan’s, the majestic raga performed during the first part of the night, is considered a benediction. A slew of hymns in this raga have also been composed for the Guru Granth Sahab. It’s metaphorical in a way, using these ragas to portray Sahibjaan’s thoughts, their morality, integrity, and chastity. Kaifi writes Vahin tham ke reh gayi hai, meri raat dhalte dhalte. Sahibjaan sings it to the Nawab sitting across from her for the mujra, but also like a poem to herself, remembering the man who thinks she is worthy of falling in love with.

Can we ever touch up an M F Hussain or S H Raza work and say that we are moving with the times? One can argue that in the case of music, both the pieces will exist simultaneously and can be heard with one click. But changing meanings, reflections and ruminations of the original to suit one’s own motives, isn’t an act of integrity and decency. It isn’t a tribute. Tributes aren’t self-serving.

The advent of remixes began in the 1990s when Kaanta Laga, starring Shefali Zariwala became a hit among a slew of others. What Mikey Mcleary did in Shaitan many years later, by recreating Hawa Hawai and Khoya Khoya Chand, is exemplary of what a different perspective to the song can do. He made them sound beautiful again. Even in the case of past remixes like Kanta Laga and Kabhi Aar Kabhi Paar, the melody wasn’t touched much. The presentation styles were — some of them were horrifying while some were entertaining. But in the past couple of years, it’s all about merging the catchlines with a new composition and projecting it as a new piece.

In the times of Rs 100-crore budgets, the pressures on filmmakers are massive. And rehashing an old, successful number is a better bet than producing an original. Of course, every piece of music, even the ones that are bad, have a right to exist. But a piece that’s the tampered version of an existing song, which has nothing to do with the narrative of the film and has been included specifically to make a quick buck, satisfies nothing more than commercial interests.

In a market packed with brilliant talents such as Amit Trivedi, Sneha Khanwalkar, Ajay-Atul and A R Rahman, why waste money and resources tampering with existing tunes? In the coming years, one can only hope that producers who pressure composers into turning to an old song can understand that it is innovation that’s likely to lead to success. Convenience can never engender greatness.

Poet Allama Iqbal wrote once, Hazaaron saal Nargis apni be-noori pe roti hai/ Badi mushqil se hota hai chaman mein deedavar paida (For thousands of years, Nargis [Narcissus, a flower that blooms once in many years] mourns a woeful fate before a real admirer comes along ). Amrohi had used these lines towards the end in Pakeezah, during Sahibjaan’s rukhsati (bridal send-off). That real admirer cannot be Bagchi or Kakkar or Bhagnani, who claim that they are making the song accessible to a younger audience. That admirer includes those who believe in the experience of original music, of tunes from films such as Pakeezah, their contours, cadence, and everything they stand for. That admirer is Mangeshkar, who voices her concern about a song she so passionately crooned once and stands up for artistes who aren’t alive to fight a copyright war. That admirer is my father, who plays the old Pakeezah tape regularly, even though it whirs in agony.

The only interruption to a piece such as Chalte Chalte should be that train whistle.

suanshu.khurana@expressindia.com

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