RIP Bhupinder Singh

 (An obituary of sorts, on the passing away of Bhupinder Singer, the soulful singer)

 With a rich, sonorous bass, Bhupinder gave voice to grieving and aching hearts in the 1970s and 1980s. Listen to “Karoge yaad toh, har baat yaad aayegi”, or “Ek akela iss shahar mein” - one can actually feel the torment, the helplessness, the anguish, and the “meaninglessness” of life of the dramatis personae, plaintively portrayed through these heart-wrenching numbers.

 But that wasn't his first or only avatar. Starting off as a sidekick to Pancham da, Bhupinder's acumen on guitar got him the iconic tune of one of the greatest rock numbers to hit the Bollywood music scene – “Dum Maro Dum” from the iconoclastic movie “Hare Rama Hare Krishna”. Stepping the gas on, he unleashed several other chart-bursting tunes on guitar – “Chingari koyi bhadke” and “Chura Liya hey tumne jo dil ko”, to name a couple.

 Apart from helping contemplative heroes and wounded souls pour their hearts out in Bollywood movies, Bhupinder ji also flirted, romanced and gallivanted with “Zindagi mere ghar aana”; “Do diwane shahar mein”; “Huzoor iss kadar bhi na itra ke chaliye”, etc., each time, delivering a hit.

 His passing away leaves a void - one that may never be filled. While Arijit S, Sonu N, and their ilk may create their own niche in the sad-poignant-heartache genre, Bhupinder ji's contribution to pathos in Bollywood music will remain inimitable and eternal.

 

Gaana-Gandharvan (Celestial Musician) turns 81

 (A paean on the 81^st birthday of Dr KJ Yesudas)

 Kattassery Joseph Yesudas, the epitome of melody, turns 81 today. Das-ettan, as he is fondly called by Malayalees world-wide, has regaled audiences the world over with his rich and varied repository of more than 50,000 songs in myriad languages, including most Indian languages (Ettan is an endearing form of address for an elder brother, in Malayalam - a sort of Bhaiyya, in Hindi). His repertoire is wide in scale and scope, and spreads across carnatic, semi-classical, devotional, romantic, bollywood, and several other genres. With his divine voice, he creates the deepest emotions in one's soul. He also has the uncanny ability to make the most complex of the songs sound simple with his rendition.

Dasettan has won a record eight national awards and been honoured with all the three Padma awards by the Government of India... the Padmashri, the Padmabhushan and the Padmavibhushan.

 I was bought up on a steady diet of his Malayalam songs, broadcast by Radio Ceylon, from 3.30 - 4.30 PM every day, and as an avid listener, endeared myself to him very early in my life. He burst on to the Bollywood scene with songs in the movie Chitchor, and there was no looking back. With hundreds of hits like “Gori tera gaon bada payara”; “Sunaina”; “Jaaneman janeman”; “Surmai ankhiyon mein”; “Kaa karoon sajni”, etc., he has carved a niche for himself in the hearts and minds of the discerning music fans of Bollywood. 

 

Bappi da is dead ... Long live Bappi da!

 (Note: This piece was penned as a tribute to Bappi Lahiri, on his demise)

 The passing away of Bappi Da, is an opportune moment to reminisce on his musical genius. He not only introduced and popularised Disco music in Bollywood, but he took it to a frenzied level, amongst the Baby Boomers and Gen X. At club nights, birthday parties, and camp-fires, in the late 1970s and 1980s (there weren't any discotheques back then), kids and adults alike would groove to Bappi da's tempestuous beats and melodies. In short, he was the rage those days (besides of course, the cross-border import, Biddu and his exotic, precocious star, Nazia Hassan; but that's another story for another day).

 There's hardly a genre missing Bappi da's repertoire - save perhaps, devotional songs (I'd be delighted to be corrected on that - would love to listen to his devotional number(s), if any, in any language). Besides being the undisputed king of Disco, he was the emperor of melodies romantic, and equally at ease belting out peppy songs and gazals. No movie in the 1980s would be complete (or a hit) without his trademark numbers – Sharaabi; Namak Halaal; Armaan; Himmatwaala; Disco Dancer; Suraksha - the list is rather long to be recounted here. 

 Wall Street and Dalal Street gurus will tell you, that gold as an investment, is inflation agnostic - its price always appreciates (new age gurus may of course opt for bitcoin, ether and their like, claiming, they are equally safe bets). Bappi da, loved to display a lot of gold, earning the sobriquet, “King of Bling”. His songs, just like gold, will continue to appreciate, and radiate as much brilliance, as the yellow metal he was so much in love with.

 My personal favourite of Bappi Lahri, is the Yesudas song from the movie Tootè Khilonè - perhaps, the only one that the redoubtable KJY sang for him. The lyrics are by Kaifi Azmi, and the song is coincidentally picturised on his daughter Shabana, paired with a lanky Shekhar Kapoor (unrecognizable, minus his trademark beard). Shekhar and Shabana, btw, were at one point in time, the thinking woman's and thinking man's sex symbols - but then, that's another story, for another day ...

 

A Master of all Arts

 (A tribute to the genius of Kishore Kumar)

 In Malayalam there's a terminology called “Sakala Kalaa Vallabhan” - it loosely translates to “the gallant overseer of all arts”. If ever, any persona fits that bill, it has to be Abhas Kumar Ganguly, more famously known by his popular name Kishore Kumar. Actor, producer, director, music composer, singer - he donned several hats, and all with the practiced ease of a perfect professional. 

 He was arguably, the most dynamic singers in Bollywood, nay, in Indian cinema. With a rich repository of songs, he had a range so versatile, in moods so diverse, that it was virtually impossible to slot him into any niche. Sad songs, cheerful ones, romantic calls, naughty numbers, yodeling doodles - he had all of them in his repertoire. His best though, were reserved for the company of Sachin Burman and Rajesh Khanna. The trio came together to dish out hit after hit in the late 1960s and 1970s, becoming a rage for a generation of music and cinema lovers.

 Among his all-time romantic greats is “Mere Sapnon ki Raani kab Aayegi tu”, from the movie “Araadhna”. Kishoreda's melodious voice is the tool unleashed by a handsome Kaka in an open Jeep, to woo a doe-eyed, pretty as peach, ravishingly radiant Sharmila T in a train. An apocryphal account has it, that the hero and the heroine were never together during the shoot of the song and were captured on camera, on entirely different dates - the reason perhaps, that in the entire song, they are never in a frame together. Anand Bakshi Sahab presents the perfect pitch with his lyrics, for Pancham da to compose a tune that really melts one's heart.

 Fathers' Day Musings ... from a Father

This fathers' day, rather than extol the virtues of fathers the world over, laud their sacrifices, and glorify how they mentor and guide their kids (torture them - from the perspective of those at the receiving end!), I decided to use the reverse swing and ruminate on what kids teach their fathers. It's expedient and logical, since an old ball like me (at 55 years), doesn't swing as well as a new one does - but then, the new ball can't reverse swing either.

So, what do fathers learn from their kids: here's my take, on a couple of such learnings ...

1. Time Value of Money. No B School education or Financial Management text books are gonna teach you this concept, the way the kids teach you. As a kid from a previous generation, one's idea of what is expensive, is determined by the value of currency three decades back. So, shelling out five grand for a movie at the premium PVR in a mall, is a king's ransom for you; for your kids, it's chicken-feed.

2. The Bottomless Tummy. While still at the movies, during the bio-break, you scrounge by opting for the smallest pack of the plebian, plain, salted popcorn (low on butter, lower on salt, lest you should enrage your hypertension and your doctor!). You also stick to the smallest glass of diet coke to go with (lest you should enrage your blood sugar and your doctor!). But, when the delivery boy deposits the snacks order of your kids, you realise, there's enough and more on that gargantuan tray, to feed an entire army of semi-starved recruits (not the Agniveers, but their predecessors). From caramelled popcorn to nachos and dips, from pizzas and pastas to Pepsis and popsicles, it’s a veritable feast that would satiate your need and greed, for at least a fortnight. Then you see all of it vapourise in a trice - vanishing into the ravines of your youngsters' tummies. And, once they step out of the movie, their eyes are scouting the nearest fine dining experience, that exotic set-up with exorbitant rates, that hastens the exodus of cash from your wallet (or from your credit card).

3. Time Value of Time. Alvin Toffler had warned me of this, long years back, through his classic tome on futurology, “Future Shock”. Simply put, when a 50-year-old dad asks his 15-year-old son to wait for five years for his bike, for the dad, it's just 10 percent of his life; for the kid, it's one-third of his lifetime. This logic has however been turned on its head. While I hold on to my gadgets (smartphones, tablets, laptops), to as long as I can (which can stretch anything from 4-5 years), to squeeze out the last ounce of juice from its chips, drives and memories, my kids badger me for next-gen gizmos, every six months, or even earlier (depending on the OEMs definition of generation - I often wonder, how can six months define a generation). Suffice to say that, what's one generation for me - 5 years - is just 6 months for my kids.

Happy Fathers' Day to all my ilk, who share my pangs and pains, and thrills and frills of fatherhood.