As we pay tribute to the great singer, here we are sharing an excerpt from Nasreen Munni Kabir’s book ‘Lata Mangeshkar… In Her Own Voice’. The book is a collection of fascinating conversations between Lata Mangeshkar and the author, giving a glimpse into the world of the talented singer and revealing the person she was.
Excerpts from the book are published with permission from Niyogi Books.
lm: As a child, I used to listen to Baba sing and remember every note, but I did not have the courage to sing in front of him. One day, he was teaching Raga Puriya Dhanashree to a young disciple and for some reason, he left the room and Baba’s disciple continued to sing. I was playing outside and listening to him. I felt that the boy was not singing properly. So I went in and said: ‘That’s not the point. That’s how it should be sung. And I sang the notes to him. At the same time, my father returned and listened to me. He called my mother Mai, and said: ‘We have a good singer in the house and we never knew him.’ The next morning at six o’clock, Baba woke me up saying: ‘Tanpura take. You will study singing.’ We started with the same raga – Puriya Dhanashree. From that day I started learning to sing. I think I was about five years old.
nmk:
It is said that when you were six years old, you were singing a song and suddenly fainted. And when you wake up, you continue to sing from where you left off. Is it true?
lm: No. It’s not like that! It never happened. [laughs]
nmk:
Clearly you are as mythical as those who capture the imagination of millions – and so stories about you spread like myths, whether true or false. Maybe we should attribute this story as part of the ‘creeper-vidya’, like many others found in abundance on the net. Can we start from the beginning? Where were you living in the 1930s?
lm: We were in Sangli, a small business town in Maharashtra. My father had a big house with thirteen rooms. We lived on the top floor, and the ground floor of the house was converted into small flats that were rented out to different families.
nmk:
These were the days of prosperity when your father was Deenanath Mangeshkar, a renowned singer, stage-actor and co-producer of musical plays. [sangeet natak] He was considered the leading light of Marathi theatre. Did he run his own theater company?
lm: Yes. It was called Balwant Sangeet Mandali and was formed in 1918 when Baba was eighteen years old. The company was formed with his friends Chintamanrao Kolhatkar and Krishnarao Kolhapure, Padmini Kolhapure’s grandfather, and whom my aunt later married. Baba was from Mangeshi, a small place in Goa and when he was about eight or nine years old, his mother sent him to study music under Baba Mashelkar, who was then in Goa. My father later became a disciple of the Gwalior Gharana.
NMK: What was the most enjoyable aspect of your singing lessons?
lm: What I liked best was learning to sing bandish – and I learned as much as I could. I didn’t pay that much attention to gamut or niches. I will ask Baba to explain the personality of a raga. What kind of rage is this? How’s that rage? With God’s grace and his blessings, my voice could handle the strings and I sang them well.
NMK: How old were you when you first performed in public? How did this come about?
lm: This was in the late 1930s. Baba’s theater company was on tour in Solapur and one day some people asked him to sing in a concert. I listened to their conversation and asked: ‘Baba, can I sing with you?’ He replied with a laugh: ‘How will you sing?’ ‘Why not? I can sing!’ So he said: ‘Which raga will you sing?’ ‘Khambavati. And two songs too. Eventually he agreed to let me sing on stage.
In our theater company, we had a harmonium player whom we affectionately called Babi ‘Borkar’ – from English ‘Borkar Wala’ [a bore]and tabla player Ustad Valya. He accompanied me when I practiced for a few days.
The concert was held at Nutan Theater in Sholapur and before Baba came on stage, I sang raga Khambavati followed by two Marathi songs: ‘Shura Mi Vandile’ from KP Khadilkar’s play Manapman and ‘Suhasya’ from Prabhakar’s play Brahmakumari You are Mansi Mohi. Then my father sang throughout the night. I remember sleeping on the stage with my head on Baba’s lap. This was my first public performance. I was nine years old. [smiles]
I sang with Baba at other concerts, and when I was eleven, we sang together on the radio.
NMK: Did your father tell you something about singing or music that helped you in your life?
lm: When I was learning to sing, I used to make all kinds of excuses. I was very young and loved to play. I pretended to have a headache or stomach ache. It was always something. I used to run away from the room where Baba had taught me. Sometimes he would grab me and bring me back. I will protest, saying: ‘I am ashamed to sing in front of you. I am scared.’
One day Baba made me sit and said: ‘I know that I am your father. But the father is also like a guru. Always remember – whether a teacher or a father is teaching you – when you sing you should think to yourself that you will sing better than him. Never wonder how I can sing in His presence? remember this. You must be superior to your guru.’ I have never forgotten Baba’s words.
NMK: What did your father think about film music?
lm: Film music was not much appreciated at home. The family preferred classical music. And my father was a very conservative person. He was strict about the way we dressed, we could never do powder or makeup. We could not go out in the open. Baba did not like that we go out late at night to watch plays, not even our own productions. So he was strict. But he was ideal; This was some seventy years ago. During our childhood, we lived according to the customs of the time.
Mai hailed from Khandesh and wore a traditional nine-yard sari. She was a pure vegetarian all her life, but used to cook non-vegetarian food for my father. My brother Hridaynath and his daughter Radha are also vegetarians and do not eat eggs either. But we sisters became non-vegetarian.
Baba did not like movies. We were not allowed to go to the movies except for the films made by Marathi filmmaker Bhalji Pendharkar and the New Theater in Calcutta. Baba believed that his productions had good music and sensible stories. He always liked Sehgal sahab and me too. At home, I sang his songs, especially ‘Ek Bangla Bane Nyara’ from the film President. I was allowed to sing Sehgal sahab’s songs at home but no other film songs. Nor did I care much for them.
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