At a press meet to announce a concert to celebrate her 90th birthday in 2023, singer Asha Bhosle
declared: “I am the last Mughal of this film industry.” The legendary singer, who passed away in Mumbai on 12 April after a brief illness, at the age of 92 years, sang her first film song for the 1943 Marathi film ‘Majha Bal’. Hailing from the renowned Mangeshkar family of musicians, Bhosle sang her last song earlier this year, for a collaboration on British alt-pop experimental band Gorillaz’s ninth studio album ‘Parvat’. However, in the early years of her career, Bhosle was often compared to her elder sister and undeniably the most celebrated Indian playback singer, Lata Mangeshkar. Their rumoured sibling rivalry even apparently inspired the 1998 Hindi film ‘Saaz’, directed by Sai Paranjpye.
Though both Mangeshkar and Bhosle
denied rumours of any rift between them, their styles were a striking contrast to each other. “While Mangeshkar created an aura of respectability through her repertoire of songs, public appearances, and a carefully built persona of devotion to her art, Bhosle became known as an outgoing and outspoken performer,” writes film scholar Shikha Jhingan in a
2022 paper, adding: “Bhosle was often referred to as a versatile singer who could sing sensuous songs performed by vamps in film narratives.” She was often the voice of the “other woman” in films — nightclub performers (‘Piya tu ab toh aa ja’ in ‘Caravan’, 1971), hippies (‘Dum maro dum’ in ‘Hare Rama Hare Krishna’, 1971) and tawaif (‘Dil cheez kya hai’ in ‘Umrao Jaan’, 1981).
Paranjpye’s film refers to both the rumoured rivalry and Bhosle being favoured for cabaret and other similar genres by many contemporary music directors. In the film, two sisters, Mansi (Aruna Irani) and Basni (Shabana Azmi), learn music from their father, Vrindavan (Raghuvir Yadav). After Vrindavan’s early death, Mansi starts doing playback singing in the Hindi films in Bombay (Mumbai) and soon becomes the leading singer in the industry. When Bansi tries to enter the industry, Mansi pretends to help her and even gets her a duet with her. However, during the recording of the song, she prevents Bansi from singing and consigns her to the chorus. Later, during a showdown between the sisters, they decide that they will not allow their “healthy professional rivalry” to disrupt their personal relationship.
A little later in the film, when Bansi has already become a famous singer, she is offered a cabaret, which she refuses. Her collaborator and music director, Indranil (Amar Talvar), tells the producer: “You go running to Mansi with all the good songs. When will you realise Bansi’s potential?” “She was always the second choice for music directors and stars,” writes Jhingan, quoting Gautam Rajadhyaksha. She adds: “Why were some genres highlighted over others? Songs performed on screen by pre-adolescent orphans, alms seekers, boisterous comedians, female cross-dressers, and night club dancers… the sonic performance of Asha Bhosle’s playback voice, distilled through multiple and often contradictory texts, undergirds the projection of a woman’s material, contingent, and volatile body.”
In the film, the rivalry between the sisters comes to a head when Bansi is offered to sing a nationalistic song during Independence Day celebrations. However, Mansi uses her political connections to take the song for herself. Gujarat-based writer Urvish Kothari suggests in a
recent piece that a similar incident occurred between Mangeshkar and Bhosle. “As the story goes, ‘Aye mere watan ke logon’ — the song that made Lata a national icon — was originally meant for Asha. She even rehearsed it. Ultimately, it was Lata who secured the song that was etched into the nation’s collective memory,” writes Kothari, without citing any source. Composed by C. Ramachandra and written by Kavi Pradeep, the song commemorated Indian soldiers killed during the India-China war in 1962. It was first performed during Republic Day celebrations in 1963.
Mangeshkar states, for the record,
in a 2013 interview, that Bhosle was indeed one of the two singers who were supposed to perform the song. “(D)ays before we were to fly to Delhi, she came to me and said, ‘…I’m not coming to Delhi.’ I tried to convince her to change her mind, arguing that her name had even been printed in the newspapers as one of the singers. But she was adamant. … Then it was left to me to rehearse alone for the song.” The performance so moved then Indian prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru that he apparently declared: “Those who don’t feel inspired by ‘Aye mere watan ke logon’ don’t deserve to be called a Hindustani.” In ‘Saaz’, Bansi interprets Mansi’s actions as a betrayal and cuts off all contact with her. The sisters are reconciled only much later in the narrative when Mansi is suffering from cancer.
In Paranjpye’s oeuvre, which includes such classics as ‘Sparsh’ (1980), ‘Chashme Buddoor’ (1981) and ‘Katha’ (1982), ‘Saaz’ is a less-than-satisfactory film. At the time of its release, Paranjpye said in
an interview: “On the whole, the film has matched my expectations, even surpassed what we expected.” But film scholar Sangeeta Datta wrote in
an article a few years later: “Over the last few years, there has been a lull in the work of women filmmakers; in this context, ‘Saaz’ is significant in offering a narrative only peripherally touched upon.” Even earlier, one of India’s leading feminists, Urvashi Butalia, had identified Paranjpye as one of the three women filmmakers who had emerged in the 1980s. “There will be no real change until such time as women begin to make films about themselves,”
wrote Butalia.
The feminine perspective is evident in ‘Saaz’, where the conflict between women is not turned into an episode for male voyeurism, as it is so often done in mainstream Indian cinema. Instead, it is represented with kindness and empathy. In one scene, Mansi tells Bansi’s daughter, Kuhu (Ayesha Dharker): “Learn your craft, else you will have to sing rim-jhim-rim-jhim.” It is a reference to the earlier episode where she had consigned Bansi to singing the choral section (rim-jhim-rim-jhim) of their duet. Kuhu is unaware of it and says: “The two of you have so many secrets!” It is also a comment on the audience who continue to probe the relationship between Mangeshkar and Bhosle through the framework of their rumoured rivalry, which is, undoubtedly, the least important aspect of their careers. It may have existed, or not, but like Kuhu, we do not have the right to enter this private space of fraternal bonding.
Uttaran Das Gupta is an Indian writer and journalist
