Lata Mangeshkar, who captivated generations of audiences as the voice behind countless Bollywood films, died aged 92 in Mumbai, India over the weekend. Many from the around the world mourn the loss of a songbird that came to define the history of our Motherland.
Mangeshkar’s songs have a way of eliciting redolent memories from my childhood. I’m transported to times spent with my extended kin, a younger version of myself playing with my cousins whilst Mangeshkar’s syrupy tone drifted in the background of packed rooms where family members shared food, stories and experiences. I vividly remember the sanguine feel of ‘Mehndi Laga Ke Rakhna’ from the 1995 superhit ‘Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge’ (‘The Big-Hearted Will Take the Bride’) filling every wedding.
Rising to fame as a playback singer – that is the voice actors lip sync to – ‘Lata Ji’ is synonymous with the evolution of Bollywood cinema. Mangeshkar’s longevity was second to none; the dominant voice during the Yash Chopra reign of the 90s, she sang in over 1000 movies in a career spanning more than half a century, giving actresses that couldn’t sing a voice. Mangeshkar’s legacy as a vocal pioneer cannot be underscored enough. A student of music, she rehearsed diligently to perfect her voice in service of the story being told. She was invested in the narrative viewpoint of the character her voice would articulate; her ability to emote and express feeling is why she became one of the most sought-after playback singers in the history of Indian cinema.
Her impact on the diaspora runs deeper, however. Artist Fatima Al Qadiri described in few words the wistful manner in which we attach and ascribe formative chapters of our lives to Mangeshkar’s command of singing:
RIP LATA -every time I hear your voice I’m back in high school-
— Fatima Al Qadiri (@FatimaAlQadiri) February 6, 2022
There is comfort derived from her voice. I’ve struggled at times reconciling my insular personality with the deep reservoir of my South Asian ancestry; the culture, the customs, the rigid confines of tradition. The East meets West dichotomy – as overstated as it is – rang true for me at times. Music was a gateway for me to appreciate my Asianness. It was songs Mangeshkar vocalised during the Golden Age of Bollywood which bloomed with the studio era of the 1950s, that left the deepest mark on me for it connected me to my kin; imprinted into by bloodline, filtering down from generation to generation as a way of preserving our heritage.
The song ‘Yeh Sama Sama Hai Ye Pyar Ka’, from the 1960 film ‘Jab Jab Phool Khile’ (‘Whenever The Flowers Bloom’), was my late Uncle’s favourite number – a diaphanous song my Father would play in his memory, so pure it suspends time and place. The lyrical overtones of Urdu stopped me in my tracks when I experienced it for the first time and subsequently opened up a portal to ‘Hindustani’, a dominant composite language in Bollywood films for much of the twentieth century. Urdu is a hypnotic language. My Mother’s mother tongue evokes love and rapture and sensuality when spoken but when sung, it elevates these evocations and Mangeshkar was the very best at adding resonance to these expressions.
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With Mangeshkar’s songs you reminisced and were taken back to a time before; a monograph of a birthplace many of my relatives pined for as they made a life for their families in the West. Mangeshkar and Noor Jehan, a Pakistani playback singer known by her honorific title ‘Malika-e-Tarannum’, were two singular vocalists of Hindustani classical music that stirred and stoked these memories. Often, I’d see my Grandfather in a kind of meditative daze listening to both through the crackle of his radio. Back then I couldn’t fully grasp what these songs meant, but as I matured and figures like my Grandfather left us, I revisited them, realising these weren’t just traditional love songs but elegies of faith, of devotion, of home.
Possessing a multi-octave range, Mangeshkar pioneered the use of melisma in her songs. ‘Lag Jaa Gale’s’ opening vocal is a kind of ambient trip, an isolated hum ringing delicately over lilting keys echoing in the ether before one of the most evergreen love songs in Bollywood history plays out. Mangeshkar could rein in the melodrama, expressing assured melancholy in equal measure. Her sophisticated performance in ‘Chalte Chalte Yun Hi Koi’, from the 1971 film ‘Pakeezah’ (‘The Pure One’), is regarded as one of her signatures; an ethereal delivery for a timeless song that viscerally soundtracks a train ride moving through time, elegantly paced yet full of stifled longing.
Through Lata Ji’s voice I leaned more ardently into Urdu poetry and sought out singers with an ability to move through scales with mellifluous ease for I appreciate a technical singer but above all, through the treasure trove of songs Lata Mangeshkar left us, I’ll preserve the memory of my Uncle, my Grandfather and my history.
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Words: Shahzaib Hussain // @ShazSherazi
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