THEY SHOULD HAVE SUNG MORE . . .

Mahendra Kapoor

There have been singers who have sung precious few songs and yet have left their imprints on the mind. You could think here of our very own Anwaruddin Khan and India's Mahendra Kapoor. There is even Pakistan's Munir Hussain. Khan was an artiste of impeccable quality, an individual even today remembered by many who themselves have acquired a good reputation for the quality of their music.
As for Mahendra Kapoor, one thing you cannot ignore about him was his admiration, indeed devotion, for Mohammad Rafi. The older singer was his icon, much before the term 'icon' became fashionable. In these times, another well-known artiste known for his love of Mohammad Rafi is Sonu Nigaam. That said, how many of us remember Mahendra Kapoor's songs? There is ae jaane chaman tera gora badan / jaise khilta hua gulab. And, of course, there is aap aaye to khayalen / dil-e-nashaad aaya. There is another, sung on a more flippant note: o sehmi sehmi kahan chali / chhorh ke dilwalon ki galli / kab tak aankh churaye gi / kabhi na kabhi to phanse gi mere jaal mein. An instance of unadulterated comedy is gentleman gentleman gentleman / London se aaya main banthan ke.
Mahendra Kapoor's place in the history of Indian playback music can, in certain ways, match that of Pakistan's Mujeeb Alam. Alam did not sing much, but in the limited numbers he gave expression to, there was a verve quite unlike any other we keep coming across. There is, of course, the well-known wo mere saamne tasveer baithe hain. And now think of such a number elsewhere: main khushi se kyun na gaoon /mera dil bhi gaa raha hai. And, to be sure, you certainly remember wo naqab-e-rukh-ulat kar hamen yun na azmaye.
Suman Kalyanpur is famous today for such songs as dil gham se jal raha hai jale / par dhuaan na ho. And yet she could have sung more. She did not or could not owing to what has been perceived by many as efforts by the Mangeshkar sisters to block her out. In Bangladesh, Arjuman Ara Begum sang quite a good number of lilting songs. There was a certain magic in her, a quality she could have gone on applying to music in the years she spent in what was a clear stage of retirement. In later life, she bade farewell to the world of music and entered a space of religiosity. She died a little too early.
In the 1970s, Akhlaq Ahmed was a rising singer in Pakistan, coming forth with such unforgettable numbers as saawan aaye saawan jaaye / tujh ko pukarey geet hamare. But illness made a casualty of him before he could carve a more permanent niche for himself in the world of Urdu songs.
A last word on Munir Hussain: his songs mehki mehki hai fiza / raat hai tanhai hai and jo dil ko torhte hain / un ka bhi jawab nehi once inspired romance in our young souls. Today, after all these decades, they instil youth in us again.

The writer is Executive Editor,
The Daily Star