Wednesday 24 October 2012

The Sounds of Silence


The Sounds of Silence

Written by Dr. Seshadri Kumar, 24 October 2012

Copyright © Dr. Seshadri Kumar, 2012.  All Rights Reserved.

Please see http://www.leftbrainwave.com for more articles by
Dr. Seshadri Kumar

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Today is Dussehra, or Vijayadashami, the last day of the Navratri festival in India.  This very important Hindu festival is supposed to represent the victory of good over evil.  Very specifically, it relates to a few myths of Hinduism: the victory of prince Rama over Ravana, the king who abducted his wife, in the epic poem Ramayana; the killing of the demon Mahishasura by the goddess Durga; and the end of the 13th year of exile of the Pandavas in the Mahabharata epic.

But for me, the main significance of Vijayadashami is that the noise is over.

The Navratri festival, nowadays all over India, but specifically in the western part of the country, and very much so in Mumbai, is associated with the traditional Gujarati practice of garba or dandiya dance, a lovely community dance set to lilting rhythms.  It is an opportunity for the whole community to mingle and let their hair down.

Garba and dandiya are nice both to watch and to participate in.  However, when this tradition originated, hundreds or thousands of years ago, people did not have high-powered amplifiers and huge speakers at their disposal.  It was a nice folk festival.  But when tradition meets technology, all hell is let loose.  Let me explain.

Folk Tradition Meets Modern Audio

I live in a housing society in Mumbai, and for two days over the weekend they had garba/dandiya for the society members in the open community area in the society.  Our society has about 600 families living in about 8 high-rise buildings, each about 17 floors high.  I had hoped to participate in the function, mainly to get to know more people, but fell ill and had to rest in bed.

My rest was rudely interrupted at 7 pm on Saturday by the sound of loud drums and a voice screaming to the heavens.  The society had hired a powerful music system and huge speakers to broadcast garba and dandiya music to the entire neighbourhood.  Seeking to protect myself from the avalanche of noise, I promptly got up, closed all the windows of our 10th floor flat, closed the bathroom doors (because the noise could come from the air vents), turned up the fan to shut off the noise from the outside, even turned up the a/c – all to no avail.  The noise was so loud that the windows I had closed were vibrating audibly with each beat.  

Everything I tried to forget the insistent noise – play some music on the system, turn the TV on, forget about the noise by talking to a friend on the phone  - was futile.  I was not feeling well enough to get up, get dressed, go down and complain about the noise levels, but I doubt it would have done much to improve the situation.  I wrote an email to the society’s secretary in desperation, but even 4 days later, it hasn’t even been acknowledged.  Eventually, 3 hours later, with my temperature rising and with a pulsating headache, the noise thankfully came to an end, only because the society had to abide by the city’s 10 pm shutdown rules.  The same routine was repeated the next day.

Noise Pollution During the Ganesh Festival

What is it about Indians that makes them so inconsiderate of their fellowmen (and women)?  And why is it that Indians feel impelled to compel everyone else to join in their celebrations?  This noisy Navratri celebration is certainly not unique.  Growing up as a kid in Mumbai, I was used to 10 days of nonstop noise every year during the Ganpati puja celebrations.  Our own street had a big Ganpati idol, and somehow the elephant-headed god cannot be satisfied with offerings of modaks and mantras chanted in his name.  Oh no.  You have to play the latest Bollywood hit songs at maximum volume nonstop for 10 days from 10 am until midnight to gratify him.  We used to have trouble listening to the TV or stereo in our living room because the noise from the street was so loud during Ganpati puja time. 

When I was growing up, the South Indian don, Varadaraja Mudaliar, also known as Varadabhai, was the main mafioso in Central Mumbai.  He lived in Matunga, where we lived, and so in the huge vegetable market of Mumbai there were decorations and festival lights everywhere (all funded by money extorted from all the shops in the market), in addition to a huge Ganpati pandal near the Matunga station.  The station Ganpati was Varadabhai’s showpiece.  That, and the decorations in the entire market area, were symbols to remind people who was boss.  

We used to walk from our home to the market to get vegetables, provisions, etc.  During these ten days of the Ganpati puja, to go to the market meant to suffer the sound of innumerable loudspeakers all over the market blaring out the big Bollywood hits of that year.  So certain Bollywood songs are etched in my mind from repeated listening via shopping trips: “Deva ho deva Ganpati deva, tumse badhkar kaun” (from the movie Humse Badhkar Kaun), “Nainon mein sapna, sapnon mein sajna” (from Himmatwala), and “Pyar ka tohfa tera, bana hai Jeevan mera” (from Tohfa).  It was an ordeal to get through that.  Bad as the noise from our local street Ganpati was, it was nothing compared to the noise in the market, and I was so relieved when I got out of the market and back home.  As they say, between the devil and the deep blue sea.  

And of course, the worst noise is when the Ganpati idol is on its way to being immersed in the sea – and when the idol procession passes your balcony, the din of the drummers is so loud that you need earplugs to save your hearing. And immersion processions move slowly, so you had to get ready to put up with something like 120 db noise for 15-20 minutes as the procession passed your street.

Air Pollution and Noise Pollution during Diwali

And of course, Dussehra is not the last noisy festival of the year. In a few weeks we will have Diwali, in which everyone will light noisy firecrackers that will cause both air and noise pollution, make life miserable for asthmatics, scare animals and babies, rattle older people, and disturb patients in hospitals.  People seem to revel in noise during Diwali – the more the better.  The worst are those 10,000 and 20,000 series electric crackers, which create prolonged noise for 5 or 10 minutes at a stretch.  And then there is the ear-splitting noise from the “atom bombs” – at 2 or 3 am in the morning.  To make things worse, there are those creative geniuses who line up the 20,000 electric crackers along the length of the road and tie the atom bombs to the electric crackers every 10 feet so that the steady noise from the electric crackers gets punctuated with an ear-splitting explosion every 30 seconds.

Indian Wedding Processions

And, as if this is not enough, we have to suffer noise every time someone gets married.  Since the time I was a kid, I have had to suffer marriage bands perform “Meri pyaari behaniya banegi dulhaniya” (often besura, or out of tune, which to a musician is even worse than just noise) and other Bollywood-based marriage songs.  The Bollywood songs performed by brass bands are interrupted only by the 50,000 electric firecrackers which are a way for the families involved in the wedding to announce to the world how happy they are.  But see, I DON”T CARE!!!  Why are you forcing your happiness down my ears?  You really think I am going to wish your marriage well after you’ve ruined my evening?

A few years ago, I had occasion to visit Jalandhar on business in the month of February.  I was staying in a hotel and had to get some rest because I had to go early the next day to the Rail Coach Factory in Kapurthala (about an hour’s drive from Jalandhar) for some work.  I had an early dinner and turned on the TV, hoping to get some sleep soon, but was disturbed by a lot of noise from downstairs.  I called the reception to ask about the source of the noise and the receptionist informed me that it was a wedding procession – the wedding party had booked the main hall in the hotel.  The noise was so disturbing that I couldn’t get any rest.  Finally, after several complaints, the hotel reception informed me that the celebration should be over by 10.30 pm.  I eagerly waited for it to end, and it finally ended by 11 pm.  Thinking that I finally could sleep, I switched off the light and started to doze off.  Unfortunately, I was rudely awakened in about 10 minutes by more wedding noise.  I immediately called the reception and asked the guy what was going on.  He said they were not to blame – the procession noise I was hearing was coming from the hotel in the next street!  He was sorry for my trouble – said that unfortunately, this was marriage season in the Punjab, so these kinds of noise sources were unavoidable.

The Good of the Many Outweighs the Good of the Few

There is a different perspective one has when one is involved in the festivities and when one isn’t.  So, for instance, the marriage procession is pure noise to me because I have no connection at all with either the bride or the groom.  Similarly, when you are down there at the Navratri function, you might be able to hear the music clearly, and if it is a good song, it might even be enjoyable.  But even then, such high volumes can affect your hearing.  In any case, by the time the sound reaches the 10th floor, the song is sufficiently distorted that you cannot enjoy it – but it is still loud and noisy.  And, as in my case, you might be ill – or there might be an elderly person or a baby – both of whom don’t take well to noise.  

And lest you think this is only one person who takes umbrage at this, let me tell you that I looked out of the window and did a rough count of how many people were enjoying the festivities.  I would say not more than 200 people in all would have participated – and that is out of a total of 2000 residents of the society.  So the majority of the people are passive sufferers.  Does it make sense to inconvenience 90% of the population for the enjoyment of the remaining 10%?

Attitudes towards Noise in the US and in India

I have probably been spoilt by my long stay in the US.  Growing up in India, you get used to noise that you can even sleep soundly through all this.  But 16 years of living with concepts like privacy and silence has spoilt me.  I am also conscious of the deleterious effects of loud noise on my hearing and on my stress levels, something you don’t worry about as a child.  In the US or the UK, you are forced by the law (which is enforced) to care for the effects of your actions on other people.  I once had a noisy neighbour in Salt Lake City, Utah, who used to invite friends over for parties every night.  He used to have loud music up to 5 am in his parties which would ruin my sleep.  I tried talking to him a few times, but every time after he lowered the volume, it would come back up in 15 minutes.  In desperation, I once called the police, and they promptly paid him a visit and forced him to shut up.

Concluding Thoughts

What is it about our culture that makes Indians so incredibly inconsiderate of others and so insensitive to the effects of their actions on others?  And why is there this overwhelming need to have such a public celebration?  I am very sure that even if our housing society had used only 20% of the volume they did, everyone down there could have still heard it loud and clear, and we on the 10th floor would have had a little more peace.  Why do people have this urge that others should be forced to listen to, and by implication, join their celebration?  Is their own happiness not enough?

We, as a nation, need to take issues like this more seriously.  One may argue that there are more pressing issues, like poverty, hunger, illiteracy, and unemployment which plague India, but I aver that those issues cannot be addressed as long as Indians cannot think beyond their own personal and hedonistic needs and as long as they cannot think of the needs of their fellow Indians.

Keep your happiness to yourself – and I might even wish you a happy married life.

Friday 27 July 2012

Death of a Superstar - Remembering Rajesh Khanna



Written by Dr. Seshadri Kumar, July 26, 2012

Copyright © Dr. Seshadri Kumar, 2012.  All Rights Reserved.

Please visit http://www.leftbrainwave.com for more articles by Dr. Seshadri Kumar

You can reach me on twitter @KumarSeshadri

Disclaimer: All the opinions expressed in this article are the opinions of Dr. Seshadri Kumar alone and should not be construed to mean the opinions of any other person or organization, unless explicitly stated otherwise in the article.

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As most people who follow Hindi cinema now know, the first superstar of Hindi cinema, Rajesh Khanna, also known in the film industry as Kaka, died at 69 on 18th July, 2012.  Every news report about Kaka’s death starts with how he was the first “superstar” of Hindi cinema.  Yes, it is true that, with the modern meaning of the word “superstar,” he was a bigger star than any before or after him in Hindi cinema.  But a little reflection on the origin of the word “superstar” makes you realize that Kaka was an anomaly in stellar terms.

According to the theories of star death, very large stars end their life through what is known as a supernova, or a massive stellar explosion which blows them into bits, and often end up as a black hole, something that cannot be seen, only felt.  Stars that are much smaller, smaller than the Chandrasekhar limit (named after our own Dr. S. Chandrasekhar, the Nobel Physics Prize winner of 1983) end their life, well, in a whimper.  They gradually lose their surrounding matter, and become tiny remnants with a mild luminosity, and are known as white dwarfs. Over a long period of time, the brightness slowly fades, as a flashlight that has been kept on might slowly fade, until the light in them goes out, and they become completely black, and are called black dwarfs.

The anomaly of Rajesh Khanna is that although he was equivalent, at his peak, in astronomical terms, to a super-massive star, his descent into oblivion was characteristic of stars that are as small as our own sun.

But stars never burn in vain, and as long as Kaka burned brightly, he lit up the world in the way only he could, and left many lifetimes’ worth of memories through his movies and songs.  So while we mourn the loss of someone who was larger than life for many of us, we also remember fondly the many ways in which he made and continues to make us smile, laugh, and cry.

Rajesh Mania

I am young enough that I never experienced Rajesh-mania first-hand.  I was too small during Kaka’s golden period, 1969-1973, to have seen any of his early movies, or remember having seen any of them, in a theatre.  However, I was constantly exposed to his songs through the radio and, later, to his movies on Doordarshan.  I still remember the whole family watching Anand on Doordarshan and marvelling at the acting of Rajesh Khanna.  We similarly watched Amar Prem and the classic dialogue, “Ro mat Pushpa, I hate tears...” and watched him with awe, even though as a rule we were staunch Amitabh followers.  My movie-going days coincided with the rise of Amitabh Bachchan, but because I was born at this crossover time, I also had a soft corner for Rajesh Khanna.

So, from my personal experience, I was mostly exposed to Rajesh Khanna through his old movies that would appear regularly on Doordarshan, and his old songs that would appear on Chhayageet or Chitrahaar.  Once in a while, songs from his new movies would appear on Chitrahaar, etc. – I distinctly remember watching “Shayad meri shaadi ka khayal” from Souten and “Kabhi bekasi ne mara” from Alag Alag on Chhayageet (the latter about 4 or 5 times in a row - I think he had a fan in DD Mumbai).

Having watched movies like Anand, Safar, Amar Prem and the like on Doordarshan, I, and most of my friends, thought these “new” movies like Souten and Alag Alag were pathetic attempts by a has-been star to come back.  The fact that he was much better-looking in those older movies and had lost much of his good looks through a dissipated life full of alcohol abuse did not help him either.  Eventually, even the rate of appearance of the new movies slowed down, and they finally stopped coming.  Once in a while you would hear about a movie like Avtaar being a hit, but you never bothered to go see it.  I think that, for me, the magic was in the Rajesh Khanna of the Anand days, and I really could not accept him in any other avatar.

His Films: The King of Romance and Much More

For, to me, as to millions more, he was the quintessential romance king.  I could never forget the way he would wink and nod at Asha Parekh in “Yeh Shaam Mastani” or the smouldering look he had in “Roop Tera Mastana.”  His charisma was so great that I remember watching Andaz as a small kid on TV but forgot all about Shammi Kapoor, who was the main actor in the film.  With just 5 minutes of screen time, Rajesh Khanna stole the show with that fantastic song, “Zindagi ek Safar hai Suhana.”  Only years later did I do a google search for that movie and find out that Khanna’s character dies very early in that movie.  (Though I do remember the great children’s song, “Re mama re mama re,” I never connected it with that movie.)  But that is Rajesh Khanna for you – when he was at his peak, you really didn’t notice anyone else.

But Khanna was much more than just the king of romance.  He was a fairly good actor, and he chose films which were meaningful, with sensitive roles – often stories with complex romantic relationships.  This was really the genre to which his emotive skills were best-suited.  This age of sensitive family dramas gave way to the action genre with the rise of Amitabh, and though you occasionally had some intelligent stories, I think it is fair to say that good stories took a backseat with the rise of the action genre in Bollywood.  And Rajesh Khanna will always remain in my mind a symbol of the times when good stories ruled and plot mattered.

With the rise of Amitabh Bachchan and the action movie genre, people deserted Rajesh Khanna.  Khanna continued making his kind of films; they just didn’t sell.  One could argue that he could have tried to reinvent himself as an action star, but I doubt he would have succeeded.  It would have been very hard for anyone to compete with the Big B in the action genre at that time.

Relationships with Directors

An analysis of the data given in the Wikipedia page on Rajesh Khanna’s filmography reveals that he has worked with as many as 90 different directors (not counting special appearances), which is a remarkably large number for any actor.  Shakti Samanta was his favourite director, having been responsible for some of his all-time great hits such as Amar Prem, Kati Patang, and Aradhana.  Khanna did 8 films with Samanta, including Awaaz, Ajnabee, and his home production, Alag Alag.  Kaka also had unforgettable films with Hrishikesh Mukherjee, notably Anand, Namak Haram (both with Amitabh Bachchan), and Bawarchi, and also worked with him on Naukri.  He also had 4 films with B.R. Ishara (who, incidentally, died yesterday – RIP) but most of these were forgettable fare in the later phase of his career.  He had three films with J. Om Prakash, including the outstanding Aap Ki Kasam.  He also had three films with Yash Chopra, including the critically acclaimed Daag and the song-less crime thriller Ittefaq.

One is led to question why Kaka did not have more solid partnerships with directors, which might have led to them insisting on him being in their films time after time.  Perhaps his much-talked about mercurial personality is responsible for this.  Stories of him always arriving late for shooting engagements with no concern for his co-stars, directors, or crew are legend.  (To get an idea, see the outstanding BBC documentary on Rajesh Khanna, created in 1973, titled “Bombay Superstar.”)  

At any rate, even one or two movies with many directors have turned into unforgettable films.  Asit Sen had the unforgettable Khamoshi and Safar, both featuring terrific performances by Khanna, and some unforgettable music.  Chetan Anand made only two movies with Kaka, but one of them was his first release, Aakhri Khat, which he was contractually obligated to sign Khanna for because Khanna won the national acting contest, and the other, Kudrat, featured some fine performances which even garnered Khanna an award nomination.  Manmohan Desai made two movies with Khanna, and one of them, Saccha Jhoota, was one of Khanna’s biggest hits.  Din Dayal Sharma made just one film, Tyaag, with Khanna, but it was nominated for a Filmfare award.  Basu Bhattacharya made only one film, Aavishkar, with Khanna, but that fetched him a Filmfare award.  Basu Chatterjee directed Kaka in just one film, Chakravyuha, but it fetched Kaka an award nomination.  Dulal Guha made the highly successful Dushman, but no other with Khanna.  Lekh Tandon scored big with Khanna with Agar Tum Na Hote.  There are other examples, but one does wonder whether, despite the trend towards action-based movies and the Amitabh wave of the late 70s and 80s, Rajesh Khanna could have continued to succeed with his brand of sensitive, complex emotional dramas, had he but known better how to cultivate relationships with people in the film industry.

During his decline that started in the mid 70s and continued to the end of his life, he did a lot of films with many South Indian directors, who still believed in the superstar image of Rajesh Khanna.  Notable among these were Dasari Narayana Rao, K. Bapayya, K. Raghavendra Rao, C.V. Sridhar, A.C. Trilokchander, S.A. Chandrasekhar, R. Thyagarajan, and even the legendary Bharatiraja, who chose Khanna to remake his “Red Rose” which starred Kamal Hasan in the original Tamil.  Such was the respect people in the South had, both for Kaka’s acting skills and his superstar marketability.

Durability as an Actor

One of the things I was quite surprised about when I did the research for this article is just how durable an actor Rajesh Khanna was.  He vanished from the limelight with the advent of Amitabh, but like the white dwarf in the cosmos, he never stopped shining – his light only became weaker, but never so weak you could not notice it.  An analysis of the number of films that Khanna acted in over the years, extracted from the same Wikipedia site quoted above, reveals that Khanna continued to be busy through the 80s, with a significant drop in his output apparent only in 1991.   Figure 1 shows the distribution of movies of Kaka over the years (excluding special appearances).  

Figure 1.  Distribution of Rajesh Khanna’s Movies Over the Years

Statistics sometimes reveal truths the mind could scarcely have guessed.  The surprising thing about this graph is that in 1986 he appeared in 11 releases as a hero, which exceeds his 10 releases from 1972, during his most successful period as a hero.  Movie studios and producers are not fools with their money, and this high number of movies in a year, even in the late period of his career, must mean that they were likely making at least a modest profit, and at worst breaking even, with him as the lead actor, even if he was no longer the superstar he once was.

Partnerships with Actresses

Khanna partnered with 55 different leading ladies in films, a tribute again to his longevity as an actor.  Figure 2 shows how different actresses paired with him in his movies (only actresses who have acted in at least 3 movies with him are shown here.)


Figure 2.  Distribution of Kaka’s Leading Ladies

Hema Malini leads the pack with 12 films, including films like Prem Nagar in 1974, Mehbooba in 1976 (of the “Mere naina sawan bhadon” fame), the critically acclaimed Palkon Ki Chhaon Mein in 1977, and Kudrat in 1981.  She acted with Kaka in several films in the 80s.  She is followed by Sharmila Tagore with 9 (including the all-time favourites Aradhana, Amar Prem, and Safar) and Mumtaz with 8.  The Rajesh-Mumtaz pair was legendary in its day and made such blockbusters like Do Raaste, Saccha Jhoota, Dushman, and Aap Ki Kasam.  Matching Mumtaz, astonishingly, is Tina Munim which, considering her almost-nonexistent talent as an actress (yes, she was quite beautiful – but there is only so long you can keep looking at a fixed expression without getting bored out of your wits), is a tribute to Kaka’s keen interest in her career.  The fact that a couple of these were reasonable hits – Souten and Alag Alag – is more a tribute to Kaka’s residual charm at that stage, combined with the great singing of Kishore Kumar, than to Munim’s rather wooden presence. 

These are followed by, not surprisingly, Rekha and Shabana Azmi with 7 each, and quite surprisingly, Jaya Prada with 7.  The Jaya Prada number can at least be partially explained by the strong interest of South Indian directors in Khanna in his lean period.  Rekha acted in some of Khanna’s memorable films, such as Namak Haram, Agar Tum Na Hote, and Prem Bandhan.  Shabana has featured, most memorably, in Thodisi Bewafai, Avtaar, and Aaj Ka MLA Ram Avtar.  Reena Roy and Moushumi Chatterjee also makes an appearance in 6 of his films, mostly in the forgettable phase of his career, while Zeenat appears on-screen with Kaka in 5 films, the most notable of which is Ajnabee. 

Of actresses who acted in just a few movies with Kaka, it is important to mention Nanda, who was an established actress and acted with Khanna in some of his earliest movies such as The Train and Ittefaq; Waheeda, who acted with Khanna in Khamoshi and, like Nanda, played an important role in recommending him to producers; Tanuja, who acted with Khanna in 3 films, two of which were hits, namely Haathi mere Saathi and Mere Jeevan Saathi; and the extremely talented Jaya Bhaduri (now Bachchan), who only acted with Khanna in one film; however, this singular partnership gave rise to a highly entertaining and successful film, Bawarchi.

The Music of Rajesh Khanna Films

Ultimately, though, Indian movie stars are most strongly connected to their audience through the music of their films.  A good soundtrack can make or break a film.  Let’s face it – most Indian movies have hackneyed plots and, with few exceptions, don’t warrant repeated viewing.  The portions of the movie that have the greatest recall value are the songs, if they are good.  In this regard Kaka was extraordinarily fortunate.  In at least this department, he maintained strong relationships with some music directors and one particular singer who, singlehandedly, is responsible for much of the magic of Rajesh Khanna – Kishore Kumar.

I get tired of watching “Top 10” lists of Rajesh Khanna hits on TV programs.  There are so many good songs there; how do you pick the top 10?  It is really impossible.  I find such programs quite lazy, really, listing only the obvious hits (e.g., Zindagi ka Safar) and ignoring several gems that are not as well-known as they deserve to be.

So I have created, after listening to practically every song in almost every movie of his (until 1991, after which point I realized that no one was writing songs for him – he was usually appearing in movies as a character actor then onwards), a comprehensive list of all his hit songs and good songs.  As in my earlier article about Dev Anand’s songs, I have also included songs in which there is no male lead singer, provided the male actor is present in the picturization, because I believe that his mere presence contributes to the effect of the song.  

Many of my selections in the list will be incontrovertible choices; an example of such a selection is the all-time classic “Zindagi ka Safar” from Safar (1970).  But some have been included because they were popular at the time, even though they may not represent a milestone in musicality.  An example of such a song is “Chhod maza haath mala peene de,” which I remember to be quite a popular song at the time, though obviously no one would claim that it is a great song.

Such a list, by definition, is subjective, although I would hope that most of the songs in the list would be on anyone else’s list as well.  I also could only listen to those songs that either I possessed or that I could listen to on the internet.  I made the reasonable assumption that a song that no one would care to put up on a website probably wasn’t worth listening to anyway.  And that is saying a lot, considering I had to filter out a lot of trash to come up with this list.

The Appendix shows the comprehensive list of Kaka’s hits.  Over a period of 21 years, from 1966 until 1987, I found 159 songs worthy of repeated listening and hence qualified to be in this list.  Some will be obvious to you; others, I hope, will be pleasant discoveries.  The song titles are hyperlinked to youtube.  Several things stand out on examination of this list, which I will discuss in greater detail below.



Figure 3.  Composers of Rajesh Khanna’s Hit Songs

A look at Figure 3 shows the one thing that any follower of either Kaka’s career or RD Burman’s, for that matter, would have guessed quite easily – that Pancham is the composer of the most Rajesh Khanna hits.  For those who do not know, Pancham, Kaka, and Kishore Kumar were very close friends, and the root of this triangular friendship goes way back to Aradhana (1969), Kaka’s first super hit film, which had Pancham as the assistant to his father and the composer of the film, SD Burman, and Kishore-da as the singer.  Bollywood actors are fairly superstitious people, and Rajesh Khanna was certainly so, as has been reported widely on Indian TV and Indian film magazines, and so Rajesh Khanna continued for a long time with this pair.

I am not a big fan of superstition myself, but in this case Kaka’s superstition seems to have helped him really well.  Pancham turned out a huge number of hits for Kaka – 55 out of my list of 159, or more than a third.  What is not so obvious, but stands out from Figure 3, is the fact that Laxmikant-Pyarelal were not far behind, with 48.  I had heard Pyarelal Sharma mention in an interview that after RD Burman, they had composed the most for Kaka.  I was sceptical about this claim, thinking that yes, maybe they composed a lot of songs for Kaka, but how many of those songs were good?  But the research proved me wrong.

One unusual composer you will find in this list is Kanu Roy, who composed a lovely song sung by Manna Dey for Kaka in Aavishkar from 1974.  Kanu Roy was a minor music director who was also an actor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kanu_Roy), but this track truly deserved to be in the list.

The other big surprise for most of you will be the name of Naushad in this list.  Even in 1982, Naushad had his fans.  Sultan Ahmed asked him to create the music for Dharam Kaanta, and Naushad proceeded to create music for a 1982 film as though he were still living in the sixties.  So this number from Dharam Kaanta, “Duniya choote yaar na choote,” is a complete anachronism, but if you forget that fact, it is actually a pretty nice song.  Rafi and Bhupinder deliver on the vocals. (Naushad would only use Rafi in his songs, even though by 1982 Kishore was the king of Bollywood.  But then, as I said, he was still mentally in the 1960s, as his compositions for the film show.)

There are a few more lonely figures out there.  Usha Khanna got the only big hit of her later career thanks to Rajesh Khanna’s Souten.  Madan Mohan had one great soundtrack of Rajesh Khanna to his credit – Bawarchi.  And Hemant Kumar features in this list only because of Khamoshi, which had some unforgettable numbers (one great song which could not be included in this list, because it was featured not on Kaka but on Dharmendra, which was from Khamoshi, was the all-time classic, “Tum pukar lo, tumhara intezar hai.”)  And Salil-da had only 3 hits in Kaka’s career ... but can anyone forget the songs of Anand?

One notable exception from this list is OP Nayyar.  Quite surprisingly, he never seems to have composed the music for a single Rajesh Khanna film.  The only reasonable explanation for this fact is simply that Rajesh Khanna came on the scene late enough (1969) that by this time, OP had finished antagonizing about everyone he could in Bollywood, and very few people wanted to work with him anyway.  Like the subject of our present study, OP too had a reputation of being an arrogant egotist, albeit a genius.  So don’t feel bad and start wondering about the “what ifs” – they probably wouldn’t have gotten along, anyway.

Singers


Figure 4.  Singers for Rajesh Khanna’s Songs

I could end this section simply with Figure 4 and no one would complain – this one figure says it all as far as singers for Khanna’s songs are concerned.  The complete domination of Kishore Kumar over all other singers when it comes to Rajesh Khanna cannot be elaborated by an essay of any length more eloquently than this figure.  The utter belief of Rajesh Khanna that Kishore Kumar was the only person who could be his “voice” is borne out by the following story that you might have heard. 

Apparently during the making of Dushman in 1972, Kishore Kumar got to know that he had to sing a qawwali, “Jhoota hai tera waada, waada tera waada.”  Kishore Kumar protested that qawwalis were not his forte and that Kaka might do better to ask Mohammad Rafi to sing the song, since Rafi was very good at singing these songs.  Kaka just told Kishore, “Ok, then we’ll drop the song.”  On being told this, Kishore said it was too good a song to drop and he would sing it.  The result is amazing. 

The other great story that many would have heard about the great friendship between Kishore and Kaka is that when Kaka produced his first film, Alag Alag (1985), Kishore refused to accept a single paisa as a fee.  His contention was that his own resurgence and superstardom as a singer was due to Kaka’s Aradhana, and so it would not be right of him to charge Kaka money for his own film.

But the real insight we get from this picture is about who else sang for Rajesh Khanna.  I was really surprised to know that the wonderful songs “Teri aankhon ki chahat mein” and “Humse ka bhool hui” were sung for Rajesh Khanna, not by Mohammad Rafi, as I had always assumed, but by Anwar Hussain, a man who has a voice that seems like a perfect copy of Rafi’s.  Wonder why this guy did not make it big.  

Another surprise was Manhar Udhas singing “Jeevan saathi saath mein rehna” from Amrit (1986).  And Suresh Wadkar, whom I have always liked, chips in with a nice song for Kaka in Mithun’s Disco Dancer, in which Kaka plays mentor to the young dancer.   

And in case you are wondering which song RD Burman has sung for Kaka (if you REALLY don’t know), it is that immortal “Duniya mein, logon ko” from Apna Desh (1972), a rocking, timeless song with Kaka and Mumtaz on screen and RD and Asha on playback.

Hits Through The Years

A real surprise for me was to know how many hit songs Kaka had even after his peak years were far behind him.  Figure 5 shows the year-wise distribution of the 159 selected songs in my list over the years.  


Figure 5.  Distribution of Kaka’s Hit Songs Over the Years

The correlation between good music and hit movies is obvious from this graph.  The years 1971-1972 were the years of Kaka’s superstardom – these were the years in which he delivered 15 consecutive super hit movies – a record that will likely never be broken.  In each of these years, he had 24 super hit songs!!!  

But the interesting thing about this graph is that Kaka always had good luck with songs.  Even in his late period, from 1980-86, he had an average of almost 6 hits a year, which is quite an accomplishment.  This is probably one of the reasons why he continued to be a bankable star even in the mid-80s.  Eventually, though, all the make-up in the world cannot hide your age, and he stopped getting songs featured on him in movies, which is why the hit parade ends in 1987.

Concluding Thoughts

The persona of an Indian actor is moulded by five main ingredients – his own personality and charisma, good stories, great, visionary directors, talented music directors and, finally, great singers to give playback to the actors.  The combination of all these factors is what the Indian audience sees and remembers.  Rajesh Khanna was a gifted actor with matchless charisma.  He was also fortunate to have great people help him in all the other departments.  He had directors like Hrishikesh Mukherjee and Shakti Samanta make great movies for him; he had good stories like Anand, Namak Haram, Amar Prem, and Khamoshi to display his histrionic skills in; excellent music directors like Pancham and LP to give him great music for the songs in his films; and finally the late, great Kishore Kumar, to make Khanna’s character soar on screen with his heavenly baritone.  Fuelled by all these factors, he reached heights which can perhaps never be matched in the history of Hindi cinema.

His rise was meteoric in the way most people cannot even dream of; yet it was probably this rise that destroyed him.  People who criticize his behaviour should understand that he experienced the sort of adulation that most of us can never imagine getting.  And, like him, we would also not know how to react properly if we ever got that kind of adulation.   He himself has admitted that he did not know how to handle the adulation.  There is a story I heard from a friend how Kaka went once to Chandigarh and people prostrated themselves on the floor all along the red carpet so he could walk over them on the way to the stage rather than walk on the floor.  That is a kind of adulation even our present superstar, Amitabh Bachchan, probably never experienced.

His loss of fame and prestige, after scaling such heights was, therefore, all the more difficult to bear.  His later period was marked with grief, bitterness, and disappointment; people who could have helped him regain some of his standing in the industry did not help him – they probably remembered his misbehaviour during his heyday and wanted their revenge.  And yet he persevered in acting in films, for that was what defined him, and today he has left us with a rich treasure house of memories, not only from his golden days but, through his songs, from his later films as well, until he could not give us any more. 

Thinking of his golden songs, perhaps it is fitting that he died during the monsoon season in Mumbai.  For, as he says in this immortal number from Anurodh through Kishore Kumar's golden voice,

Jab dard nahin tha seene mein,
Tab khaak mazaa tha jeene mein
Ab ke shaayad, hum bhi royen
Sawan ke mahine mein

When there was no sorrow in the heart,
There was no joy in life
Now, perhaps, even I will shed tears,
In the season of the rains.

But all the tears and the rains cannot wash away the beautiful memories that you have created for us with a lifetime of work, Kaka.  Your songs and movies will continue to cheer and inspire us – for generations to come.

So, thank you for the memories, Kaka.  And hope you have found that peace in death which eluded you all your life.

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank my wife, Sandhya Srinivasan, for her help in bouncing off ideas on songs for the list, for her suggestions regarding this article, and for her help in proof-reading this article.

Appendix: Kumar's List of the Best Rajesh Khanna Songs


Song Title
Movie
Year
Music Director
1
Aakhri Khat
1966
Khayyam
2
Bahaaron ke Sapne
1967
RD Burman
3
Bahaaron ke Sapne
1967
RD Burman
4
Raaz
1967
Kalyanji Anandji
5
Aradhana
1969
SD Burman
6
Aradhana
1969
SD Burman
7
Aradhana
1969
SD Burman
8
Aradhana
1969
SD Burman
9
Aradhana
1969
SD Burman
Bandhan
1969
Kalyanji Anandji
Do Raaste
1969
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Do Raaste
1969
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Do Raaste
1969
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Do Raaste
1969
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Khamoshi
1969
Hemant Kumar
Saccha Jhutha
1970
Kalyanji Anandji
17
Saccha Jhutha
1970
Kalyanji Anandji
Saccha Jhutha
1970
Kalyanji Anandji
Safar
1970
Kalyanji Anandji
Safar
1970
Kalyanji Anandji
21
Safar
1970
Kalyanji Anandji
22
The Train
1970
RD Burman
Aan Milo Sajna
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
24
Aan Milo Sajna
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
25
Aan Milo Sajna
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Aan Milo Sajna
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Anand
1971
Salil Chaudhary
28
Anand
1971
Salil Chaudhary
Anand
1971
Salil Chaudhary
Andaz
1971
Shankar Jaikishan
Chhoti Bahu
1971
Kalyanji Anandji
Haathi mere Saathi
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
33
Haathi mere Saathi
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
34
Haathi mere Saathi
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
35
Haathi mere Saathi
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Kati Patang
1971
RD Burman
Kati Patang
1971
RD Burman
Kati Patang
1971
RD Burman
Kati Patang
1971
RD Burman
Kati Patang
1971
RD Burman
Kati Patang
1971
RD Burman
Maryada
1971
Kalyanji Anandji
Maryada
1971
Kalyanji Anandji
Mehboob Ki mehndi
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
45
Mehboob Ki mehndi
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
46
Mehboob Ki mehndi
1971
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Amar Prem
1972
RD Burman
48
Amar Prem
1972
RD Burman
Amar Prem
1972
RD Burman
Amar Prem
1972
RD Burman
Apna Desh
1972
RD Burman
Apna Desh
1972
RD Burman
53
Apna Desh
1972
RD Burman
Bawarchi
1972
Madan Mohan
Bawarchi
1972
Madan Mohan
Bawarchi
1972
Madan Mohan
Dil Daulat Duniya
1972
Shankar Jaikishan
Dil Daulat Duniya
1972
Shankar Jaikishan
Dushman
1972
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Dushman
1972
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Joroo
Ka Ghulam
1972
Kalyanji Anandji
Mere Jeevan Saathi
1972
RD Burman
63
Mere Jeevan Saathi
1972
RD Burman
Mere Jeevan Saathi
1972
RD Burman
Mere Jeevan Saathi
1972
RD Burman
Mere Jeevan Saathi
1972
RD Burman
67
Mere Jeevan Saathi
1972
RD Burman
68
Shehzada
1972
RD Burman
Shehzada
1972
RD Burman
Shehzada
1972
RD Burman
Anuraag
1973
SD Burman
Daag - A poem of love
1973
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Daag - A poem of love
1973
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Daag - A poem of love
1973
Laxmikant Pyarelal
75
Daag - A poem of love
1973
Laxmikant Pyarelal
76
Namak Haram
1973
RD Burman
77
Namak Haram
1973
RD Burman
78
Namak Haram
1973
RD Burman
Raja Rani
1973
RD Burman
Aap Ki Kasam
1974
RD Burman
Aap Ki Kasam
1974
RD Burman
82
Aap Ki Kasam
1974
RD Burman
Aap Ki Kasam
1974
RD Burman
Aavishkar
1974
Kanu Roy
Ajnabee
1974
RD Burman
Ajnabee
1974
RD Burman
87
Ajnabee
1974
RD Burman
Prem Nagar
1974
SD Burman
Prem Nagar
1974
SD Burman
90
Prem Nagar
1974
SD Burman
Prem Nagar
1974
SD Burman
Prem Nagar
1974
SD Burman
Roti
1974
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Roti
1974
Laxmikant Pyarelal
95
Roti
1974
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Prem Kahani
1975
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Prem Kahani
1975
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Maha Chor
1976
RD Burman
99
Maha Chor
1976
RD Burman
Mehbooba
1976
RD Burman
Mehbooba
1976
RD Burman
102
Mehbooba
1976
RD Burman
Aaashiq Hoon Bahaaron Ka
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Anurodh
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Anurodh
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Anurodh
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
107
Anurodh
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
108
Chhaila Babu
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Karm
1977
RD Burman
110
Karm
1977
RD Burman
111
Karm
1977
RD Burman
Palkon Ki Chhaon Mein
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
113
Palkon Ki Chhaon Mein
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
114
Palkon Ki Chhaon Mein
1977
Laxmikant Pyarelal
115
Bhola Bhala
1978
RD Burman
116
Janata Havaldar
1979
Rajesh Roshan
117
Janata Havaldar
1979
Rajesh Roshan
Aanchal
1980
RD Burman
Bandish
1980
Laxmikant Pyarelal
120
Bandish
1980
Laxmikant Pyarelal
121
Bandish
1980
Laxmikant Pyarelal
122
Bandish
1980
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Thodisi Bewafaai
1980
Khayyam
Dard
1981
Khayyam
Dard
1981
Khayyam
126
Fiffty Fiffty
1981
Laxmikant Pyarelal
127
Kudrat
1981
RD Burman
128
Kudrat
1981
RD Burman
129
Ashanti
1982
RD Burman
130
Dil-e-Naadaan
1982
Khayyam
131
Dil-e-Naadaan
1982
Khayyam
132
Rajput
1982
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Agar Tum Na Hote
1983
RD Burman
Agar Tum Na Hote
1983
RD Burman
135
Avtaar
1983
Laxmikant Pyarelal
136
Avtaar
1983
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Dharam Kaanta
1983
Naushad
138
Disco Dancer
1983
Bappi Lahiri
Nishaan
1983
Rajesh Roshan
Nishaan
1983
Rajesh Roshan
141
Souten
1983
Usha Khanna
142
Souten
1983
Usha Khanna
143
Souten
1983
Usha Khanna
144
Aaj Ka MLA Ram Avtar
1984
Bappi Lahiri
Asha Jyoti
1984
Laxmikant Pyarelal
146
Maqsad
1984
Bappi Lahiri
Maqsad
1984
Bappi Lahiri
148
Paapi Pet Ka Sawaal Hai
1984
Shankar Jaikishan
149
Aakhir Kyon
1985
Rajesh Roshan
Aakhir kyon
1985
Rajesh Roshan
Alag Alag
1985
RD Burman
152
Alag Alag
1985
RD Burman
Awara Baap
1985
RD Burman
154
Babu
1985
Rajesh Roshan
155
Adhikar
1986
RD Burman
156
Amrit
1986
Laxmikant Pyarelal
Amrit
1986
Laxmikant Pyarelal
158
Amrit
1986
Laxmikant Pyarelal
159
Nazrana
1987
Laxmikant Pyarelal