Lata Mangeshkar with sister Asha Bhosle

I sat with eyes transfixed on my guru Pt Hridaynath Mangeshkar as he sang the antara of a Marathi song he had been teaching me since two days. The process involved me repeating after him each line he sang, but for some reason I was just unable to get one part of it. I was nine years old, raised in an environment of Carnatic classical music (where raga Malkaus was called Hindolam) and it had been my third class with the maestro.

The pressure was palpable. I didn’t want to make him repeat the line yet again, though he was the epitome of calmness. I sang the line again. And again I missed the note. I heard some shuffling behind me and from my peripheral vision I could see the diminutive legend Lata Mangeshkar keenly listen to her brother and I.
“Bhool jao Hridaynath baitha hai. Dil se gao Lakshmi… apne liye gao (Forget Hridaynath is sitting here. Sing from your heart, sing for yourself),” she whispered, and stepped out. I sang again, this time hitting all the right notes. She waited outside till I finished and made it a point to tell me that anything is tough only if my heart isn’t in it.

A legend speaks
For Lata Mangeshkar, music has always been about the heart. Over twenty years later when I caught up with her, it seemed like she hadn’t changed one bit.
“There’s a heart or there’s nothing. Today when you look at singers, you feel bad for how limited their opportunities have become. When I joined the industry 70 years ago, music was the heart of a film. A film was conceptualised with songs; songs weren’t just randomly added for effect. There were lullabies, romantic songs, etc., and they were all ballads of some sort. Today music isn’t the focus of films. So new singers hardly get a chance to showcase their talents. At best they sing two songs in one film and some of them don’t get a chance for two years or so after that. The Internet is killing record sales so non-filmi music careers are next to impossible to sustain,” she laments.
She’s had her share of fame and spotlight but she can’t help being worried about youngsters thrown into a fiercely competitive industry. “Even good singers barely get a chance. They have to rely on live shows to make some money. Sonu (Nigam), Sunidhi (Chauhan) and Kunal (Ganjawala) are exceptionally talented but they have to consistently do shows to sustain themselves. Comparatively, we had greater opportunities in our time,” she adds.

Bread-winner
It may be tougher for newcomers today to find opportunities but Lata’s journey hasn’t been all that easy. Much has been written about how she’s had to bring up her siblings soon after her father’s death, yet for Lata today the struggle only made her stronger.
“In 1942, when my father died, Master Vinayak (Karnataki) gave me a job in his movie company. So I played small roles in Marathi films, sang a bit and did every odd job I was asked to do. Sometimes I was the sister of the hero or the friend of the heroine. I acted in a handful of movies and when the company moved to Bombay, I came to the city in 1945. After trying my hand at acting, I got a chance break in playback singing. Later I even dabbled with composing music but I was tired of composing and singing my own songs. My heart was always in singing. I knew if I gave it my all, there would be no looking back.”

Multi-linguist
Thespian Dilip Kumar, composer Anil Biswas, his secretary and Lata were travelling by train in 1947 when Biswas introduced the actor to the nightingale. “He said, ‘This is Lata Mangeshkar, she sings very well.’ So Yusufsaab (Kumar) asked me, ‘Are you a Maharashtrian?’ to which I replied in the affirmative. He then replied, ‘Maharashtrian singers don’t have very good diction’,” she reminisces. Kumar’s remark stayed with her and Lata knew she had to overcome this obstacle. So she got back to Bombay and asked her music gurus to look for an Urdu teacher.
“A maulana came to my rescue and he religiously taught me subtle nuances, diction and the essence of the language. Today I’ve sung in about 36 languages,” she says with the only hint of pride in all her talking.
I remind her how she discussed Tamil diction with my mother. “Yes, of all the languages I’ve sung in, Tamil I would say, I found slightly tough. I think the only language I haven’t sung in is Haryanvi. Asha and I both love singing in as many languages possible.”
Doting sister
She was all of four years when she started going to school. On the second day, she took little sister Asha (Bhosle) with her but was told by the headmaster that such small babies weren’t allowed. “I was so upset! I thought ‘I’m master Deenanath Mangeshkar’s daughter. How can someone say no to me?’ So I went back home and declared to my mom that I’m never going back to school. Back then the girl child’s education was hardly encouraged, so it seemed okay to stay at home and study. I was that close to Asha and that’s how we’ve been,” she says, talking about her relationship with her famous sister. Asha and Lata have separate flats in their Peddar Road building though it’s just one door that separates one’s bedroom from the other. So they don’t even have to leave one flat to go to the other and the sisters like that despite being in separate homes, they still feel so close. “You’ve seen it — we’re always in each others’ rooms. Sure we’ve had our fair share of fights and disagreements but nothing that couldn’t have been overcome. It’s not been smooth sailing but quarrels are common between any set of siblings. When she has a problem she calls me and now makes it a point to visit me (Asha has only recently moved out of her Peddar Road home). Honestly, a lot has been written about our rivalry but I have nothing to say about something that is really of no consequence to either Asha or me.”
Having played a part in raising her siblings after her father’s death, it’s natural they think of her as a mother-figure. “They’ve all grown up in front of me. For Hridaynath, I’m his mother. We have an eight-year gap. For me, your guru (Hridaynath) is my guru,” she laughs, adding, “Ulta-pulta nahin hai (it’s not as topsy-turvy as it sounds).”

Child-like Nightingale
Her father’s death may have thrown her into the grown up world of responsibilities but for Lata, the child within her remains. She still laughs a lot, loves mimicking people and occasionally lifts her mood while whipping up some delectable food. I can vouch for the gaajar halwa. “I don’t cook as much because I get tired. Otherwise I’m just like how you last saw me. I have no regrets and I’m extremely content with my life. I have a family I love and God’s gift of a voice. That’s all I need, that’s all I ever needed,” she says, gratitude making that pristine voice quiver a bit.