n the most memorable music was being composed for the Indian heroine.
Curiously, the Marathi, Bengali and Gujarati music industries were totally unaffected by any of these tags: some of her best heroine-songs of that period are in these languages. Since being politically correct has never been my forte, I may as well say that it speaks volumes about regional cultures and sensitivities. Moreover, what a coincidence that just around the time of her marriage to R D Burman, the "cabaret singer" label was miraculously replaced by the respectable "versatile". I grit my teeth each time I hear it. Just another label signifying nothing.
If I were to sum up my mother in one word, it would have to be zidd: 'wilfulness' or 'obstinacy' doesn't connote the shades of determination and the readiness to toil that I associate with it and her. The more formidable the task, the harder she applies herself to it. Like her venture into the Western music world as a member of the pop-group The West India Company, formed with Steven Luscombe of Blancmange. One fine day, Anand casually informed her that he had finalised the deal and that, in a month, she would have to a) compose; b) sing; c) interact with British musicians and technicians; d) give live interviews on radio; e) appear on television... and all this in English, in England.
For a middle-aged woman who had never been to school, let alone spoken a complete English sentence, this, I thought, was an impossibility. I was appalled. What happened was, I had the stomach runs for a month, while she diligently rose at 4 am, donned her Walkman, and heard 'Spoken English' cassettes for hours. Well, she did it all: entered the Top-20 charts with her song Ave Maria,, appeared on British and German television, ..... |
