Music & the Mule

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I learned from yesterday's ToI that Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, born in Lahore, died in Hyderabad and sang some of his best songs here while living as a guest in Basheerbagh Palace.

The piece of news that intrigued me is:

"...He became a household name when K Asif and Naushad persuaded him to sing that intoxicatingly sensual---Prem jogan bangayee---in the magnum opus 'Mughal-e-Azam'...He was said to have been paid a whopping Rs 25,000 for that rendition when the leading singers of that time Mohammed Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar were receiving only Rs 5000 for each song..."

Well, that was a Dilip Kumar-Madhubala starrer...that says it all and apparently the biggest box office hit till Sholay.

I watched the video and and tried listening to that song just now:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aob1I_Ifee0

Well, RKN didn't happen to watch me, but I am the epitome of his masterpiece: Non-musical Man in Next Sunday.

I am tone-deaf and felt bad for it till about my middle age, after which everyone counts his infirmities as his blessings, and lives happily with them forever.

While at my University, I was invited to several Carnatic Music Festivals by eminences. I wore my sole 'evening dress' (dhoti-kurta) as a matter of form and sat in the back benches as usual.

The thing that bugged me was the slow start...the accompanists tuning their violins, drums...both the skinned stuff and the pots hugged by half-naked pot-bellied maestros, cymbals and the young girl sitting behind quietly and twanging her stringed instrument mournfully.

And when everything is ready, the Ustad (or Usatadini) starts clearing his throat and launches into his alap so slowly that my scant attention is led far away to the subdued roar of our sea-beach.

And since I was determined to get the bang for my buck, I sat through for 15 minutes and ran away to the beach, returning after 2 hours to witness the final battle between the skinned one and the potbellied one.

One of the major problems for the non-musical man (not mentioned by RKN) is that most singers look ugly (to me) while singing classical music. They go into apparently needless contortions of their faces, vocal chords bulging, heads oscillating, hands beating their thighs and stuff. I rarely saw a classical vocalist singing like say Madhubala with her face all the more beautiful while lip-synching.

Well, I be blowed...'intoxicatingly senusal'...for me Madhubala has always been...despite the maestro behind...

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There was this highly controversial ghoongat vaudeville act by the ex-police officer at Ramlila the other day:

http://iamstillzero.blogspot.com/2011/08/see-kiran-bedi-theatrics-comedy-drama.html

It became controversial later on...while the going was good, it was evident that the 85,000 crowd was enjoying it.

The Act was obviously not liked by the venerables at which it was aimed.

And, of all people, the ever-sportive Biharilals spoke up against it in their hallowed chamber.

And privilege motions are in the offing. And the police officer refuses to budge and say sorry...apparently she is ok with going to the prison which she did so much to reform and got awards.

If that indeed happens, we have another martyrdom conferred by our lawmakers and their ilk.

But between them it is ok if they sling mud on one another....pals after all.

Here is the latest from DC (with photos):

"Lalu Prasad, Jagannadh Mishra appear before court in fodder scam, granted time to appeal"

"Anna fit after fast because he doesn't eat fodder, Thackeray tells Lalu"

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Tailpiece

The latest name-changing game is to rename West Bengal as Paschim Banga.

Almost a literal translation, keeping the West intact.

This reminds me of the last scene of the Laurel-Hardy movie: Way Out West.

The girl says: "I am from South"

And Hardy echoes her jubilantly: "I too am from South"

And Laurel follows: "I too am from South"

Hardy sternly: "South of what???"

Laurel: "London"



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