MY TAKE
SUMAN KALYANPUR TO SUSHANT SINGH RAJPUT...CONNECT THE DOTS
Image credit: Suman Kalyanpur’s image courtesy of SAREGAMA MARATHI/YOUTUBE, and Dil Bechara movie poster.
By SHAGORIKA EASWAR
The words of an old Lata Mangeshkar song might have been written for her.
Naam gum jaega, chhehra yeh badal jaega, meri awaaz hi pehchaan hai, gar yaad rahe (this name and face might fade into the mists of time, but my identity lies in my voice, if you can hold on to that memory).
Of course, it’s highly unlikely that anyone who loves Hindi songs would forget her name, etched as it is in our memories with countless beautiful songs, but it speaks to the power of her voice.
A power that she wielded ruthlessly, if accounts of how she controlled the music industry in her heyday are even partially true.
Lata Mangeshkar’s soaring vocals filled our homes, giving voice to a range of emotions for every leading lady for decades, everyone from Madhubala to Madhuri Dixit. But was hers an unparalleled talent? Some would say not, and point to Suman Kalyanpur, who sounded so like Mangeshkar that many people were convinced her songs were actually sung by Mangeshkar.
Na tum hume jaano (Baat Ek Raat Ki, 1962)
Tumne pukara aur hum chale aaye (Rajkumar, 1964)
Ajahun na aaye balma (Sanjh Aur Savera, 1964)
Theheriye hosh mein aa loon (Mohabat Isko Kehte Hain, 1965)
Aaj kal tere mere pyar ke charche hain (Brahmachari, 1968)
If you thought any if not all of them were sung by Mangeshkar, you’d be wrong. They were all sung by Kalyanpur. So yes, her tonal quality was astoundingly like Mangeshkar’s but just a sound-alike can’t achieve her level of perfection. Every note was pitch perfect, every song a hit. And yet, she vanished as suddenly as she had appeared.
I recall my mother and her siblings discussing it and debating possible causes but in the absence of 24x7 news channels and all-knowing Google, details remained blurry and Suman Kalyanpur faded from the scene. Today, if you search for her, a plethora of stories show up, some of them expounding on conspiracy theories.
When her old songs pop up on my playlist, I have often wondered, what must an artiste of her calibre have gone through, being pushed into oblivion at the height of her career?
Even if one were to dismiss the speculation as idle gossip, what’s one to make of reports of sibling rivalry between Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle? They both deny it strenuously, but the stories keep surfacing. The movie Saaz, starring Aruna Irani and Shabana Azmi, was said to be based on Mangeshkar and Bhosle. Not officially, of course, but the similarities were enough to lend credence to the belief.
The case of Ranu Mondal also comes to mind. The woman, who worked as a busker entertaining the pedestrian traffic outside Ranaghat railway station in West Bengal, used to sing Lata Mangeshkar’s popular number Ek pyar ka nagma hai. The internet being what it is, a video of her singing went viral. People crowned her the new Lata Mangeshkar.
What did the original have to say to that? If anyone benefits from her name and work then she feels fortunate, Mangeshkar said, according to a report on NDTV. Going on to add this: “By singing my songs, singers get short-term attention. But it won’t last. Be original.” The poor woman hadn’t set out to dethrone Mangeshkar and after her 15 seconds of fame, has also faded from memory as social media latched on to the next big thing.
On the face of it, there was nothing wrong with the message that could even be defended as advice from a legendary singer. But imagine how Mondal would have felt. There she was, basking in glory and then this, like a cold, hard slap in the face of her dreams. She was in no form or manner a threat to Mangeshkar, who, in any case, retired from singing decades ago. She was not imitating Mangeshkar, but trying to earn a few extra rupees from people who passed her on the railway station.
But old habits die hard. Turf must be protected.
There must have been countless other singers, music directors, actors and directors who didn’t get their time in the sun because of a word we are hearing a lot of these days – nepotism.
What’s wrong with nepotism, some question. It’s a natural, human tendency to promote one’s own. A prince inherits his father’s throne. Politicians’ offspring join politics. Why shouldn’t an actor launch his son or daughter in a movie? Nothing, if it is restricted to promoting your own. But when it becomes a case of ganging up on the outsider, using one’s old boys’ club privileges, so to speak, to deny others opportunities, then it takes a dangerous and ugly turn. Whether outsiders succeed or fall by the wayside will depend on their talent, luck and a host of other factors. Nepotism shouldn’t be one of them.
Ganging up is what bullies do.
Is that what happened in the case of Sushant Singh Rajput, the promising young actor who committed suicide last month? The jury is still out on that one, but after the initial shock and sadness at the loss of a young man’s life must come some introspection.
The Hindi film industry may have adopted social media savvy ways but it remains as abusive as in the bad old days when children used to be warned against the lure of glamour and money.
“You’ll get hurt,” parents used to say. Sadly, they weren’t wrong.