The Clinking of Twin Glasses: Tribute to Asha Bhosle
Some singers create what is called a mood. It cannot be described in words for in doing so, the feeling or that tenor of emotion passes.
The song creates a magic of something now and here. It is the intensity of the impermanence of time. The fleeting joy that reaches a climax and suddenly all is quiet.
Also Read: The Fine Arts of Criminology
Lata M captured those quiet times. Asha held afloat the joy in its build up and crescendo. Perhaps I would not have been able to write about Lata Mangeshkar because she was divine. Her art of singing or gayaki was for quiet reflections; of philosophies. It had its own pace and space.
Asha lent her voice to the ‘other woman’, the vamp and therefore more alluring – nishiddho or forbidden. Lata was the one who was the voice of patriotism and dutiful wives. Asha’s was the opposite; dusky and seductive. She was the Helen of Dance of Bollywood, which in our growing years attracted us more.
Even in Bengali, her coquettish “Chokhe chokhe kotha bolo, mukhe kichu bolo na” released during the Puja festivities, was all about those teenage years of just barely being able to wear a sari, but draping one nonetheless to look grown up. The tripping over in the new high heels as one tried desperately to lock eyes with the handsome para boy, termed chokra by the stern father. At thirteen years of age whoever wanted to dance to “Aaj phir jeene ke tamanna hai” by Lata. Our real lives had not even begun, so there was no question of getting a fresh lease of life. That came in middle age.
The story behind her “Dum maro dum” song brings home the reported story of how Asha was finally chosen over Lata by the director Dev Anand for his epic film Hare Krishna Hare Ram. Rest is history. Yes, the song picturization created controversy but all the bans really fizzled out. So we have one of the best youth anthems of the nation.
Would we like to be in a world, where drinks flowed in plush mansions, (garish sets actually) where sexy dancers in stockings and gloves swayed in a mix of styles – cabaret, flamenco or plain ballroom? Or be in a temple offering flowers? The answer is clear. The nightclub beckoned even if we were under age for it, as the deep velvety voice of the crooner who spoke of unspoken ambiguous sins, cast a spell on us.
Growing up in a cosmopolitan area in Kolkata, as my Bengali classmates learnt “Khara bayu boy beghe” in their singing classes, my Muslim friend Sabiha danced to “Aao huzoor tumko sitaare mein le chaloon” with a glass of coke in her hand, going hic hic every two seconds, at birthday parties. And whoever was in a pinafore, sang “The hills are alive with the sound of music”. That, however, is another story.
Then there was Madhubla in “Aiye meherbaan” from Howrah Bridge and Tanuja in “Raat akeli hai, bujh gaye diye” from Jewel Thief. All sang by Asha, these item songs gained as much popularity as the mainline ones. It provided a wholesome entertainment package for entire families across communities.
“Dum maro dum” kind of made weed legit, while “Jawani jaaneman haseena dilruba” from Namak Halal endorsed predating; never mind the gender!
Of course, RD Burman went a step ahead than his father SD in composing tunes with Calico/reggae beats and you could also dance in hybrid steps to those songs in Bengali released as pujor gaan – meaning released during the Puja festivities and not for worship per se. “Jabo ki jabo na bhebe bheb ar hai jawa toh holo na”, mirroring the indecisiveness of desire.
Yes Asha B dominated. She carved her own niche. Later we had singers like Sunidhi Chauhan who could reproduce the bar singer tone but with time, singing and going to bars was not considered a sleazy act anymore so you had to recreate it in period films. It had lost its charm.
The scene had somewhat shifted to the disco. There began equal participation in community dancing than the femme fatale wriggling and jiggling on the floor, while the lecherous villain looked on. The calm, on the other hand, ‘shareef’ hero blew smoke whorls into the air. He was unmoved so strong was his character. Tell me another!
Suddenly the scenario had changed: everyone was dancing – at marriage sangeet and college socials to songs like “Pappu can’t dance saala” and to remixes of Asha’s songs.
Asha Bhosle never retired. She sang meaningful songs in Ijaazat, like she had in “Bhomra bada nadaan hai” in Guru Dutt’s Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam. Asha has gone on record of being influenced by the legendary Geeta Dutt.
To mention all the songs would be a Herculean task so these are some of the highlights. The story behind her “Dum maro dum” song brings home the reported story of how Asha was finally chosen over Lata by the director Dev Anand for his epic film Hare Krishna Hare Ram. Rest is history. Yes, the song picturization created controversy but all the bans really fizzled out. So we have one of the best youth anthems of the nation.
Also Read: The Fine Arts of Criminology
Duniyaa Ne Hum Ko Diyaa Kyaa/Duniyaa Se Hum Ne Liyaa Kyaa
Hum Sab Kee Pawraa Kare Kyon/Sab Ne Humaaraa Kiyaa Kyaa
Chaahe Jiyenge, Marenge/Hum Naa Kisee Se Darenge
Hum Ko Naa Roke Jamaanaa? Jo Chaahenge Hum Karenge
It was a time the Indian youth too felt invincible like the Hippie generation. Well, now we can say, with emphasis, that the Universe encapsulated into the Bollywood Music Industry gave us Asha Bhosle for our escape and lighter moments. And with it the clinking of the twin glasses and those curves, as we sing one for Asha tai: Chura liya hai tumne jo dil ko.
Photo Courtesy: AI
For a living, Manjira Majumdar has traversed the world of reporting, feature writing and editing. Today an independent journalist, she likes writing essays, fiction and translating from Bengali to English.
