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Strumming the RD memory
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The man who saw the birth of tunes in the mind of R.D. Burman
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Memory lane Gupta remembers the good times
One day in early 1960s, instead of alighting from the Bombay local train at Khar, he proceeded to Marine Lines. There, at a music shop, he paid 12 annas for a set of Cathedral guitar strings and mended the Edisonia-make guitar (probably made by the B
raganzas of Free School St, Calcutta) which had been lying in a state of neglect.
A few weeks later, one sultry Bombay afternoon, music director Madan Mohan abruptly walked into his flat, heard him practising his guitar and exclaimed “We’re going to create a bit of history here.”
Thus arrived Bhanu Gupta, the first non-Catholic guitarist of Bombay film world. “My first song with Pancham was ‘Dekhiye Sahibon’ (“Teesri Manzil”),” Gupta launched into his three decades of flashback, “and I’ve played in every movie of his ever since.” Pancham could conjure up tunes out of thin air. “If the rhythmic creaking of a defective ceiling fan inspired ‘Suno Kaho’ (“Aap ki Kasam”), a wrong placement of my finger gave birth to the prelude to ‘Chingari Koi Bhadke’ (“Amar Prem”). On another occasion I was casually strumming at pack up time. Pancham pounced on the tune and it thus became what you heard as ‘Ek Main aur ek tu’ (“Khel Khel Mein”).”
Pancham posessed the humility to take ideas from others. And of inspiring his team to go beyond conventional music e.g. blowing into a bottle in “Mehbooba Mehbooba”, the sound of door opening in “Teesri Manzil”... innovative, wacky, weird.
“Even Kishore Kumar gasped at the unbelievably difficult ‘Ek Chatur Naar’ (“Padosan”) to an extent where certain portions of the song had to be left out in the final take,” he continued strumming from memory.
“Pancham never failed to publicly acknowledge the contributions of his team. When Lataji offered one of her rare praises for the tune ‘Kya Yahi Pyaar Hai’ (“Rocky”), Pancham stepped up pointed to me and told her ‘Yeh dhun isne banaya hai’. Also, when Nasir Hussain heard from Pancham that I composed the titled song of ‘Yaadon ki Baraat’, Hussain presented me a bottle of rare Scotch Whisky,” he said. “‘Aisa na mujhe tum dekho’ (“Darling Darling”), parts of ‘Tere Bina Zindagi’, ‘Yeh Kori Karari’ (“Samunder”), ‘Kuch na kaho’ (“1942 – A Love Story”) were contributed by me. But the gushing force that inspired me was Pancham.”
Before composing for a film, Pancham would insist on hearing its story including the time period thoroughly. However, he would refuse to get shackled by the lyrics. “He felt the tune must lead the lyrics,” mused Gupta.
Jazz, continental, South American, Middle Eastern... Pancham would listen to all types of music, yet refuse to copy blindly.
“We were like one happy family. Jokes, sports, food, current affairs, impromptu get togethers, laughter, fun...” Today, a plaque with ‘Remembering Pancham’ adorns Bhanu Gupta’s flat tucked away in Moore Avenue in south Calcutta.
Refreshingly, he carries a sweet nostalgia about him as he animatedly breaks into the theme tune of “Sholay”. The embers of Pancham’s music continues to glow.
BALAJI VITTAL
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