PRASOON JOSHI (CHAIRMAN CBFC & LYRICIST) ON LATA DIDI

Lata Mangeshkar was a legend but dedicated herself to the song like a newcomer, says Prasoon Joshi, Chairman , Central Board of Film Censors and senior lyricist. “She was 92 -  Jyothi Venkatesh

The lilt in her intonation, the twinkle in her eyes and the agility of her wit belied a young girl at heart. The voice of Lata Mangeshkar — the nightingale of India, Bharat Ratna, swar kokila, queen of melody — has journeyed through generations of Indians, in fact, generations of people across the Indian subcontinent.

Her voice and songs crossed geographical and generational boundaries”, says Prasoon Joshi in a tribute in Indian Express. Independent India’s last seven-and-a-half decades and living memories have one constant — Lata Mangeshkar.

Today, for many who have never met her but have just heard her voice, it seems that they are in mourning for the death of a family member. And indeed so, for her voice has been a companion, through the flush of young love and romance — Chalo sajna jahan tak ghata chale (Mere Hamdam Mere Dost, 1968), Ehsaan tera hoga mujh par (Junglee, 1961), Lag ja gale (Woh Kaun Thi?, 1964) — to poignant moments — Bekas pe karam (Mughal-E-Azam, 1960), Jo humne dastan apni sunayi (Woh Kaun Thi?), from sheer devotion — Ae malik tere bande (Do Aankhen Barah Haath, 1957), Jyoti kalash chhalke (Bhabhi Ki Chudiyan, 1961), Vaishnav jan to, to empowerment — Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai (Guide, 1965), and from loss — Luka chuppi (Rang De Basanti, 2006), Dil hoom hoom kare (Rudaali, 1993) to collective pain — Ae mere watan ke logon… the list is rich.

Prasoon Joshi continues. “For me, Lataji signified a blessing. As a young 20-something, I was fortunate to have had the legendary Lata Mangeshkar sing my first Hindi film song for Lajja (2001), directed by Rajkumar Santoshi. The illustrious Ilaiyaraajaji was the composer.

It was a dream debut for someone like me, unconnected to the film industry. I recall I was in the midst of an ad film shoot on the outskirts of Mumbai when I got a call informing me that Lataji would be going to the studio in Mahalaxmi that evening to record the song and wanted the team to be present.

Racing against time, I wrapped up my shoot and got into the car. A few kilometres down, amid the sea of vehicles in the infamous Mumbai traffic, I realised there was little chance of me reaching the studios on time.

Thoughts raced in my head; how could I, as a professional, not be present for my work and more critically, how could I ever lose the opportunity to witness Lataji — the great Lata Mangeshkar — render voice to my words?

I got out of the car and ran to the local train station only to confront the swarming sea of humanity that Mumbai is during peak hours.

Jostling my way through, I daresay without a ticket, for there was simply not a nanosecond to spare, I somehow made it to the studios a second before Lataji entered.

Collecting myself under her penetrating gaze, I read aloud the lyrics. She had studied them already and launched into a discussion on the use of the word “pawan” (wind), about its grammar, whether in Hindi it is masculine or feminine.

After a discussion where I convinced her about its usage in my lines, she smiled and said, “Aap apna kaam jaante hain, aapko aata hai (you know your work)”. Coming from Lataji, who had worked with great poets and lyricists, I was simply thrilled. It was a blessing to have begun my journey with greats like Ilaiyaraaja and Lataji”.