The story that took me to Lata Mangeshkar
Lata Mangeshkar turns 80 on Monday and as much as age is just a random number it offers a good excuse to reminisce once in a while. My memories of Lata Mangeshkar go back to 1987, the first and the only time I interviewed her at her apartment 'Prabhu Kunj' in Bombay.
The interview happened at all because of my dear friend, fellow journalist, prolific writer and brilliant satirist Shireesh Kanekar, who has been the singer's friend for a long time. Shireesh and I went together for the interview. For someone who respects my craft as a journalist Shireesh chose not to venture any suggestions whatsoever about what I should talk about. He did not even tell me not to conduct my interview in English because although she understands the language well she is not particularly excited to converse in it. About that lapse a bit later.
It was some days before Diwali and festive fragrance pervaded Lata Mangeshkar's apartment. Right outside her apartment door sat a vendor with a large wicker basket in front of him full of firecrackers. He was arranging and rearranging sparklers and bombs as if they were apples and oranges and needed delicate nurturing. From all appearances he had no clue at whose apartment he had come to sell. Just as we were about to enter Lata Mangeshkar materialized in the doorway out of nowhere. She greeted Shireesh cheerfully and said namaste to me.
"Ya ya," she told us to come inside in Marathi. The vendor was still busy surveying his modest inventory. Then she turned to the vendor and asked, "Kya kya patake laye ho? (What kind of firecrackers have you brought?)" The vendor reacted as if someone had lit a fuse under him when he heard the voice. I could see on the vendor's face near primal recognition of the voice that came out of his customer, a 58-year-old woman with one long braid and dressed in light white and pink sari. He could not quite compute why the woman's voice sounded as if it had existed disembodied from a real person for eternity. You may accuse me of hyper interpretation here but the vendor looked as if something profound had shaken him up. He knew the voice instinctively but looked perplexed that it was coming out his customer. Since he did not have the luxury of inquiring why the voice sounded so familiar, he quickly sold some firecrackers and left. While leaving he was humming the "Chup chup khade ho zaroor koi baat hai" which was fascinating when you consider that it was one of the songs, composed by Husanlal Bhagatram for Badi Bahen in the 1940s, that set the 19-year-old Mangeshkar on the path to greatness.
After the pleasantries I began my interview with Lata Mageshkar, in English. Being a consummate professional she did not once indicate any discomfort with the fact that I was talking in a language that she did not feel at home in and also that I could have easily conducted it in Hindi. I don't know why I just presumed that English would be the preferred language. In retrospect, it would have been a much more rewarding conversation had I spoken Hindi. Shireesh still ribs me about how pompous I sounded when I asked my questions in English.
