Songs travel. They do so in various ways. They travel from north to south, east to west, across countries, continents, and all kinds of geographical boundaries. They travel across languages, and genres. The nature of this travel however, is an intriguing one – it reaches the most unexpected corners, and gets into surprising avatars. So full of surprise that you don’t know it, but you still know it.
Let’s take the ghazal, for instance. It is an ancient form of poetry that originated in Arabia, and spread to south Asia during the 12th century. In the Indian subcontinent it became very popular during the 18th and 19th centuries, particularly in northern parts of India and Bengal. But then, it made its way even into the world of Kannada and how? The flight of the song is not easily explainable, but the ghazal came into the popular Kannada imagination through the bhavageethe, and later film song.
For Friday Review::The singer-actress of Hindi films Suraiya withthe golden voice Talat Mahmood. Photo:Handout_E_Mail
The bhavageethe (lyric poetry) was a form born to popularize Kannada poetry, and the ghazal (both as a form of literature and music) also centred around poetry. It is not surprising therefore that it trickled into the Kannada world as early as the Sixties, when the bhavageethe form was still in its nascent stage. I can recall how enamoured I was when I first heard these golden songs in the mid-Eighties. The voice that struck me most was that of Amirbai Karnataki – her rendition of “Ninnanu Neneyute” (lyrics by D.S. Kumtekar). This song was the Kannada version of “Sari Sari Raat Teri” from the film Aji Bas Shukriya (1958) sung by Lata Mangeshkar and composed by Roshan. The wistful tune, the languorous style and the lush background score everything came from the Hindi original and was clearly not native to Kannada. “Phir Wohi Shaam Wohi Gham Wohi Tanhai Hai”, a Talat Mehmood masterpiece from the film Jahan Ara (1964) also made its way into Kannada: poet Nisar Ahmed captured the ghazal mode ever so beautifully in his “Mattade Besara Ade Sanje Ade Ekanta”. The song beamed from All India Radio in those years became an unforgettable melody for Kannadigas – it was ghazal, Talat Mehmood, Madan Mohan and much more. Even in bhavageethes sung by Pt. Bhimsen Joshi one could sense the ghazal. You can listen to his rendition of Bendre’s poem “Nanna Harana Ninage Sharana” – the pace, the overarching emotion, the melodic movements etc….the ghazal leaves its firm footprints in the composition.
Bengaluru : Karnataka 23/11/2016 Music Director G K Venkatesh giving instructions to Classical singers Bhimesen Joshi and Balamuralikrishna . Also seen actor Rajkumar and Director , G V Iyer
There are any number of examples, but for now, I would pick two songs. One is “Kanneera Dhaare Ideke Ideke?” from the Kannada film Hosabelaku (1982, M. Ranga Rao) and the other “Gelati Baaradu Intha Samaya” from Eradu Nakshatragalu (1983, G.K. Venkatesh). Both the songs are rendered by Dr. Rajkumar.
“Kannera Dhaare” is a salutation to maestro Jagjit Singh’s extraordinary “Koi Paas Aaya Savere Savere” (Album: Come Alive , 1979). The ghazal set to Rag Lalit, is easily one of Jagjit Singh’s most intense renditions. Rag Lalit has a rich possibility of meends (as opposed to the staccato, here a note can be elongated), but what Jagjit Singh does is interesting. He pushes the sarangi with its meend to the background, and along with his voice he uses the guitar, and without the characteristic meend he produces the rich tones of Lalit. Rajkumar, like Jagjit Singh, opens with an alaap and the song begins with a similar background score but to pronounced notes on the veena. While Jagjit Singh’s intensity lies in his lightness of treatment, Rajkumar’s intensity lies in his theatricality. The song – the tune, and the rhythm – is same. But you also hear a difference.
Indian playback singer Lata Mangeshkar attends the Sathkalaratna Puraskar awards in Mumbai on February 14, 2014. AFP PHOTO/STR
Ghulam Ali spins magic in “Dil mein ek lahar si” – the ghazal is an embodiment of his exuberance, musical brilliance, spontaneity and genius. No two utterances in the song sound similar. G.K. Venkatesh brings it to “Gelathi baradu intha Samaya”, which continues to figure on a Kannadiga’s list of evergreen songs. The presence of this ghazal in the song rendered by Rajkumar is unmistakable, but in a far more limited sense, for, there is hardly anyone who can match Ghulam Ali. Like before, from Saari Saari Raath to Kanneera Dhaare , you can hear the difference alongside the sameness.
If sameness is the essence, difference is the manner in which music is embodied. The journey of the song is like the journey of the river. As goes the famous philosophical observation, you cannot step into the same river twice, you cannot sing the same song twice, not even by the same person. When language changes, when context changes, how can even the same song remain same? It is the same ghazal genre, it is the same raga, same rhythm, even the same tune, yet there is a difference. Even with all these binding aspects, the same thing is changing. The river, like the song, could well be the ‘same’, but if ‘flow’ is inherent to its nature, the water that flows in the river can never be the same. The essence of music is the vision of the singer, the composer too. The ghazal, like the river, flowed into Kannada, but they came riding on waves that were our own.
(Inner Voice is a fortnightly column on film music)
