OBITUARY: Shamshad Begum (April 14, 1919 – April 23, 2013).
By Rajiv Theodore
NEW DELHI: She had chased KundanLalSaigal, the original poster boy of Indian films through his movies, watching Devdas, a block-buster of the 1930s 14 times. Born in Amritsar, on April 14, 1919, this movie buff cherished a deep desire to become a film actor but faced formidable opposition from her parents who wrested out a promise that she will never face the camera. What happened later was history as she got the approval of her protective dad to record her voice—which she did.
When just 13 she was signed by a record company for whom she belted out 200 non-film songs in a short span. Meanwhile she remained true to her promise and it meant that her first photographs could only be clicked after a lot of persuasion much later in the 70s, though her full throated voice with a nasal undertone had become a national rage by then.
The very young Shamshad Begum had to be picked up to reach the mike for her first recording at a Lahore concert, but once she began singing the throw of her voice had everyone enthralled. Later in her career she had this unique style to stand away from the microphone owing to her powerful voice. The young singer later on proved lucky to music composers and lyricists like Naushad, OP Nayyar and Shankar-Jaikishan and lyricists SahirLudhianvi and MajroohSultanpuri. Through the 30s and 40s she was the highest paid singer earning Rs12.50 per song.
After a brief tutelage with Sarangi maestro UstadHussainBakshwaleSaheb and composer GhulamHaider who gave LataMangeshwar her break, Shamshad Begum’s earliest films songs were in GhulamHaider’sKhazanchi (1941) and Khandaan (1942). She made her singing debut on Peshawar Radio on December 16, 1947 and soon began singing for All India Radio as part of Delhi’s Crown Imperial Theatrical Company of Performing Arts. These frequent broadcasts made music directors line-up at her door with offers. When Haider moved from Lahore to Mumbai, so did Shamshad Begum.
Hers was not a particularly trained voice, but its range, power and sharpness made it stand apart. The very timbre of her voice was different from the Mangeshwar sisters whose tone was suited to the staid feminine voice that female leads of the time represented. Begum’s vocal chords were unfettered and could easily adapt for a village beauty, vamp in a cabaret or a mother with infinite ease. “Merineeedon may tum, meriKhwabo may tum…” was pictured on MeenaKumari and Kishore Kumar. Who can forget other evergreen hits of ShamshadBegum’s like “LekePehlaPehlaPyarbharkeaankho may Khumar (CID)”, “Kabhiaarkabhipaar, lagateerenazar(Aar Paar)”, “Saiyyandil may aana re (Bahar)”, “Boojhmerakyanaam ray(CID)”, “Kahin pay Nigahen, kahin pay Nishana(CID)”, “o gari wale garidheerehakna (Mother India)”, and of course the all-time super number “Kajramohabbatwala, ankhio may Aisadaala (Kismat)”.
In 1951, she provided the vocals for SD Burman’sBahar, in which Vaijayantimala made her debut with the sizzling number SaiyanDil Me Aana Re. She is credited with singing of the first Westernized song, Merijaan…Sunday ke Sunday by C. Ramchandra. O.P. Nayyar describes her voice as that of a “temple bell” for its clarity of tone.
“(She) excelled in pre-passion, frothy love songs. Her voice tone, her ability… to be conversational in music without entirely sacrificing musicality… elicit responses ranging from a smile that lights up a face to a wide grin,” late ethnomusicologist Ashok Ranade, wrote about her in his 2006 book, Hindi Film Song: Music Beyond Boundaries.
The edge and keenness to her voice also served to add an aural dimension to the screen presence of stars such as the gazelle-eyed Nigar Sultana, through songs like the unforgettable qawwali duet with the mild-mannered and coy Madhubala, Teri Mehfil Mein QismatAazmakar Hum BhiDekhenge, in the 1960 classic Mughal-E-Azam. Alongside the element of mischief in her voice was an element of innocence, a rustic quality that reminded of an open-air performances by travelling folk troupes in rural Punjab and eastern Uttar Pradesh.
By the 1970s, though, Hindi film sound studios had begun to go high-tech, and live recordings — complete with multiple singers and musicians — began to be replaced by electronic mixing. Shamshad quietly withdrew and slowly passed into oblivion. On April 14, 2013, she turned 94, six years younger than Indian cinema and the oldest known living member of filmdom. Barely 10 days after her birthday, Shamshad Begum lost a prolonged battle with ill-health and complications at a Powai hospital in Mumbai. Her Hindu husband GanpatLalBattohad died in 1955.
Shamshad Begum had been awarded the Padma Bhushan, the third highest civilian honor bestowed by the Indian government, in 2009. That brought the singer, until then living in anonymity, into the limelight once again. Soon after, she was shortlisted for the DadasahebPhalke Academy Award, a tribute given annually by the Government of India for lifetime contribution to Indian cinema.
Today, her songs live on, ironically, in remixed versions. But that too is a tribute. The ever gracious Shamshad felt there was no harm if the younger generation enjoyed old songs in their new avatar.
And in spite of life’s vagaries, she made everything that came to her a big success. Her songs lifted careers of several music directors — Naushad (Nagma), O P Nayyar (Aar Paar), Chitragupt (Sindbad Jahazi). Her number with Kishore Kumar, Mere neendomein tum mere khwabonmein hum will perhaps survive another century.
Her eyes had glinted, when she narrated an incident about Saigal.”My greatest regret is that I never got to sing with K L Saigal, though we did sing for the same film, Shahjehan. I was really shy of getting photographed. Once the two of us ran into each other at the recording company, but he didn’t know me because no one had seen my pictures. It was funny because we were then introduced and he said, ‘arrekudiye … terabhala ho… Tukitnasonagaatihai… (God bless you, girl, you sing so well).’
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