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The original baazigar
Music director Anu Malik happened at the cusp of an industry in change. Perhaps that was an unfortunate twist of fate for he couldn’t rightfully stake his claim to either the old school or the new. As a youngster, he tried to make a foray into film music dominated by RD Burman, Laxmikant-Pyarelal and Shankar-Jaikishan. He made inroads with his new sounds but couldn’t quite disturb the status quo. And when the surge of mint-fresh talent swamped producers, he appeared too over-sized and stale among his competitors. This instability did something good. Constantly tested and asked to prove himself, Malik became a versatile music composer who has given us more memorable and spontaneous songs than anybody else. Once again back in the game, he tells Namaskaar Editor-in-Chief Chandan Mitra that struggle isn’t alien to him and how he fought back charges of plagiarism with originality and whole-heartedness. Over to the 10-second piper:
What makes you so evergreen?
The fact that I can pluck tunes out of thin air even while speaking to you. Also, I have lived my moments ahead of their time. If you look back, I was among the first to have done international projects, be it Aaja Nachle in Mira Nair’s Monsoon Wedding or Gurinder Chadha’s Bride and Prejudice. Even a filmmaker like Baz Luhrmann used a part of Chamma Chamma for Moulin Rouge. In fact, he came here and apologised for lifting it but I didn’t have the intelligence, power or the infrastructure to make a case against him.
Yet you have had a negative image, as one who has plagiarised tunes?
I have composed for some 340 films. And I may have been inspired by other influences in about 20 odd. If you consider these lifted, then there are hundreds that are gifted. Yet people choose to ignore the bigger picture and narrow down their vision. You can’t take away my track record; I haven’t lived my life on plagiarism. A section of the media, particularly the Mumbai-based one, has been trying to write me off for quite sometime. But media houses in Delhi, Rajasthan and Bengal have been kind to me. They are more aware of my body of work and ask questions out of respect.
When and how did music happen to you?
My father, Sardar Malik, worked with the legendary Uday Shankar and he never considered anybody bigger than him except his guru, Baba Alauddin Khan sa’ab. As a result, I grew up loving and imbibing Bengali culture. And it was in proximity to the Shankars that I realised the pioneering work they were doing. I still consider Anando Shankar our finest fusion musician. Then there was his sister, Mamatadi, experimenting with dance. I started loving Rabindra sangeet but was really overwhelmed by Nazrul geeti. The latter has so much pain and profound emotions that it wrenches your heart out and touches your soul. So you can say Bengal shaped my musical conscience. Even now, I love to take a trip out of Kolkata to suburban hubs of Kachrapada, Behrampur and Shantiniketan where people have an uncanny ear for music. Maybe I had stayed there in my past birth.
Music was serious business in our home. My maternal uncle is Hasrat Jaipuri and of course dad was a composer in his own right. One day my dad heard me setting tunes to a Marathi poem the meaning of which I couldn’t quite understand. I was nine then. He then gave me a copy of the Free Press Journal and I started composing on the headlines. He said I had God’s gift.
Still, I wasn’t sure. Till the day I heard my all-time favourite singer Kishoreda recording Zindagi ek safar hai suhana at a studio. I remember he had picked me up in his arms. Incidentally, Jaikishanji (of the famous Shankar-Jaikishan duo) sat me on his lap and asked me to play the harmonium. I started playing Come September. He asked me if I could play with my left hand like him. I said yes. And then he told me, “Tujhe toh mera chela banna chahiye (You should become my disciple).” And when I finally heard RD’s O haseena zulfonwali from Teesri Manzil, I decided to become a composer. There was another reason behind my career move — Lataji’s voice which was honey personified. I wanted her to sing to my tunes. But when I grew up, I realised life is not a bed of roses. My struggle started and it was immense.
How come you had a rough ride despite your strong industry connections? Didn’t your contacts ease your access?
My father’s talent was known but he virtually had no work in the industry. I was born in a talented family but I have seen the worst economically. My mother once advised my father that he should seek work and sell his skills rather than wait for people to approach him. She even suggested meeting poet Sahir Ludhianvi, believing he could recommend father to a big producer. It hurt his pride. Still, one Sunday morning, he went to Ludhianvi’s house and I accompanied him. We climbed three floors and stood outside the door, waiting to ring the bell. My father took out his thumb but his hands were trembling. For a son to see his father nervous and vulnerable is a whole new feeling. He said, “No way am I doing this,” and didn’t ring the bell. He wouldn’t sell his dignity. Even when producer-director Chetan Anand came to him many years later, my dad asked him why he hadn’t thought of using him in his youth.
This silent humiliation steeled my resolve to make it big and I started working blindly at a very young age. I also did what my father didn’t; knock producers’ doors with “Sir, I have got this.” I had realised early enough that you had to sell yourself if you wanted to be anybody.
As a 16-year-old novice in the ’70s, when Panchamda (RD Burman) was the king and the duos of Laxmikant-Pyarelal and Kalyanji-Anandji were ruling the airwaves, I had a tough time getting a foothold, let alone an entry. Since I was Sardar Malik’s son, the producer offered me a cup of tea but was hardly convinced of my capability. Once a producer asked me, “Give me six reasons why I should sign you on.” I hummed six different tunes on the spot and more. I got my first break when I met a gentleman called Mohan Choti who was doing a film with my father. Knowing my father was a purist, he advised me to compose a modern song for his film. I went up to Ashaji, who is like my mother, and requested her to sing it. She agreed because she was grateful to my father for making her sing a soft, romantic number at a time when Lataji had the cream and she the item songs. Even then, I didn’t get a break.
It must have been frustrating enough for you to give up on your passion…
It was. I went to Mithibai College where I met my wife, did my Masters in Politics and even appeared for the Civil Services. Believe it or not I wanted to be the Police Commissioner of Mumbai. I wanted to do something meaningful for my country. But then the late Harmesh Malhotra called me for a sitting because singer Shailender Singh of Bobby fame had recommended me. I had once approached Shailender to sing for me and he had liked my work. I began the song with a little flourish. I said “Knock, knock” followed by the heroine’s “Kaun hai, arre baba kaun hai.” And then I belted out Hoon main haseena khol darwaza dil ka. Malhotraji liked the staccato concept so much that I got Poonam starring Raj Babbar and Poonam Dhillon. Rafi sa’ab sang five numbers for me. I recall he had asked me to meet him at 9 am but I was so eager that I showed up at 6.30 am. He was sitting quietly on his well-manicured lawn offering his namaaz. He wasn’t perturbed and told me, “No problem, just give me half-an-hour.” An hour later, I started singing Mohabbat rang layegi for him. My voice was shaky, I was so nervous. Then I goofed up while intoning the words “Ahista, ahista.” Rafi sa’ab told me I was too loud for these soft words. He sang the line and the whole tune took on a different meaning. This song turned out to be a huge hit thanks to him. I thought my struggle had ended because I did four films after that. Little did I realise then that I was just a passing fad. Nobody noticed me despite this short spell. Everybody had swung back to Panchamda, Laxmikant-Pyarelal and Kalyanji-Anandji. Besides, there were only four recording studios back then. These were jampacked with biggies and had little space to spare for newcomers.
Clearly, you were getting breaks in fits and starts. When did you manage to steady your course?
When I met Rajeev Mehra, son of late FC Mehra. Being the same age, we became friends and he would come over to my house to hear my tunes on the harmonium. One day I sang Dil chahe aasman mein likh du naam tera. He loved it so much that he brought his father and Umesh Mehra over to our place. It was a big thing for me and I sang my heart out. Then they gave me Ek Jaan Hain Hum whose songs became chartbusters. I made Kishoreda and Lataji sing for Dil laga ke rakhna in a slightly different style, much before hip-hop and retro could become a rage. Kishoreda particularly loved the song. People started noticing me but nothing was working till Umesh Mehra announced Sohni Mahiwal. He had decided to sign Laxmikant-Pyarelal but I was no less persistent. In fact, I had a tune in my mind and I followed him to the loo humming it. I even put some words, Sohni meri Sohni Sohni. Umeshji offered me a chicken burger and took me to lyricist Anand Bakshi’s house. There I sang the next line Rab se zyada tujhe pyaar karun. He then completed the verse with Rab mujhe maaf kare, mera insaaf kare. That song and film went on to be huge hits.
It was around this time that I met ace choreographer Kamal master, who worked in Amitabh Bachchan’s films. He introduced me to Manmohan Desai, who was shooting Coolie then. He asked me not to tell anyone that I had met him because Laxmikant-Pyarelal would get upset. I would sneak into his house for sittings and compose melodies in a day. He said it was possible for me to work with him. But then tragedy happened as Amitji got hurt while shooting. Nothing happened for a year-and-a-half. Then I got a call from his staff to reach Chandivali studios. I remember the entire lane leading up to it was decorated with flowers because Amitji had returned for shooting. They made me sit in a room. After an hour, Desaiji came in with Amitji and told him, “Lambu, iss ladka ko suno.” Amitji made me sing about 20 songs and half-an-hour later, I had Mard in my lap. This project catapulted me into the big league. It was Desai’s first break from L-P and I must say the duo blessed me. But films are a Friday to Friday business and little did I know that my troubles had just begun. For after that the films with my music flopped, the biggest of them being Ganga Jamuna Saraswati.
This was also the time when there was a wave of experimentation in the music industry. And you were not exactly a first-timer like Ram-Laxman, Anand-Milind and Jatin-Lalit...
Everybody, including Manmohan Desai, wanted new talent and I was virtually out of work again. I started doing ad jingles to make a living till filmmaker Mahesh Bhatt resurrected me. A frank and straightforward man, he neatly summed up my situation. He said, “I can see why you’re suffering. You are a boy who is holding the chain of a truck and having a free ride. When the truck brakes, you fall. Your truck is Manmohan Desai.” He gave me a small TV film, saying there was no money to be made but it could change my life. He gave me so much love and hope that encouraged me. Today, everybody remembers Phir Teri Kahaani Yaad Aayi. We had one piano, six poems, one violin and a sitar. I called Kumar Sanu and Alka Yagnik. We started with Tere dar par sanam chale aaye at 9.30 am and it was over by 12 noon. By 1 pm, we had started with Badalon mein chup raha hai chaand kyun. It was music unplugged. Zee TV played these songs over and over again and they became very popular. Ratan Jain of Venus Music asked me to do an album with him for Pankaj Udhas. That was the time I wrote Kitaben bahut si padi hongi tumne. I thought if I put the song in an album, it would be destroyed. But given my bad luck with films, I didn’t want to save it for later. The album didn’t take off. Perhaps, it was a blessing in disguise for Venus offered me Baazigar. A lot of our fates changed with that film. Shah Rukh Khan was fresh out of Fauji, Kajol had a flop in Bekhudi, Abbas-Mastan had just made Khiladi and I needed work. We staked our everything.
And the film gave us all what we wanted. Those were the horror days of the Mumbai riots. So we would have sittings in candlelight. The title song occurred to me while walking on the beach. I took a turn and thought why not give it a romantic dimension. I started humming Baazigar main baazigar, dilwalon ka main dilbar. But somehow it seemed too sudden an opening. Then I opened the song with a long drawn Mera dil tha akela tu ne khel aisa khela. This lifted the song. The inspiration for this came from the greatest composer of all time, SD Burman, who worked a similar magic in Guide, beginning with Kaaton se kheech ke yeh aanchal… and gradually working up a crescendo with Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai. Both Shah Rukh and Kajol fell in love with this song. And I got my first award.
Do you think you have peaked in your career?
Honestly, I haven’t even reached the halfway mark, probably haven’t even begun yet. Problem is people still haven’t tapped my talent. There are directors like JP Dutta (Border) and Mansoor Khan (Josh, Akele Hum Akele Tum) who’ve made unconventional films and given me a free run. I have recorded 500 tunes on my mobile. Perhaps, I came before my time. Somebody else at the right place and time got the award first. But I have a lot to give, am still relevant.
Nowadays, composers are making music on their laptops. There is no melody, no mukhda and antara, only hip hop and lounge. They are ready to remix Panchamda but won’t take originals from me. This is ironical considering my body of work after Baazigar, be it Munnabhai MBBS, Aks, Soldier, Kareeb, Virasaat, Main Hoon Na, Murder, Ishq Vishq down to the recent Kambakht Ishq. I want to be as versatile as Panchamda because he has given us Teesri Manzil and an Amar Prem. I have attempted some variety with a peppy Judwaa, reinvented qawaali for Main Hoon Na and laid the ground for Kajra Re besides doing Refugee for which I got the National Award.
I have composed for many heroes like Abhishek Bachchan, Shahid Kapur, Fardeen Khan, Tusshar Kapoor and Harman Baweja. Name any heroine from Zeenat Aman to Kareena Kapoor and they have all featured in my songs. Urmila Matondkar is still known as the Chamma Chamma girl, Shilpa Shetty is remembered for Chura ke dil mera as is Sushmita Sen for Mast mahaul. God has given me enough work to fulfill my goals. I wanted a flat in Juhu, I have one now, I wanted Filmfare, I have three maidens and I have a National Award. Now people even think me fit to judge talent, be it in Indian Idol or Entertainment Ke Liye Kuch Bhi Karega. I have no complaints, nor do I need to blow my trumpet. But I am still waiting for a call from Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Aditya Chopra and Karan Johar. I don’t mind meeting them, not because I want to work with them but because I think the work I’ll give them will be fantastic. And it matters to me that on Ashaji’s birthday, they played my song from Filhaal: Ae zindagi yeh lamha jee lene de.
Perhaps you have devalued yourself by doing too many films. Do you think you should have been choosy?
You are both right and wrong. Maybe I should have been choosy to up my stakes but then I have never learnt to say “no.” I am a very emotional person. Also, Anu Malik is a popular brand today because of this huge body of work. I don’t want to change anything in my life except that now I will choose the music I want to make, not what the director wants me to deliver. Take me for what I am but you can’t ignore me.
How do you defend yourself against the charges of plagiarism?
Test me if you want. I am willing to be challenged and can make songs anytime. What is plagiarism? Pritam has lifted songs. Even Panchamda and Shankar-Jaikishan have been “inspired” from time to time. But if Panchamda lifted one song, he also came out with a Dum maro dum which the foreigners copied. All I am asking is judge me by my original work, not by the few lifts that everybody indulges in once in a while and which I acknowledge were mistakes. Shout everybody down then but don’t single me out. You can go to the highest court in the US but my songs are original.
Now I have become street smart, know about copyright and sign indemnity clauses for my songs so that they can’t be lifted by anybody else.
I am a survivor and have learnt to ignore media reports. In the end, your bigger halo is people’s love. I am not comparing myself to Michael Jackson but look how the verbal barbs killed him. I have risen above criticism and don’t need a PR agent to forward my case.
But is “people’s love” enough for you to survive?
People of this country are fantastic and I love them. I started crying when I learnt that 99 soldiers were shot in the eye in the Kargil war. It didn’t matter where they came from — they were fired by a common goal and shared a common fate. It inspired my passionate outpouring in Sandese aate hain which Javed Akhtar wrote and said I could take up to a month to compose. I did it in seven-and-a-half minutes. I imagined a soldier standing on the peak of the highest mountain, braving the cold, the enemy and uncertainty, bunching up in front of a stove in a bunker, far away from the warmth of home. His wife was waiting for him to return in some hamlet and he had no hope or guarantees to give her. I had tears in my eyes when I composed the tune. That was the time when I thought about giving back to society. I don’t want to enter politics, I have done shows for charity but now I want to do something more actively.
Maybe an NGO?
It is a good idea. But I want to ensure that the funds don’t leak away and trickle down to the intended beneficiary. Maybe I should do something to expose and organise India’s tremendous talent. My daughter Anmol has already debuted in the industry with the hit Talli, mein talli... She’s doing computer science and business media in the UK while learning music from me. She writes her own songs. My youngest, Ada, wants to be a fashion designer. The youth in this country are extremely creative and can change this nation’s destiny. I have used budding singers from Indian Idol like Emon, Prajakta Shukre and Rahul Vaidya. I was the one to have used Sanjeevani and Sunidhi as the voice of female leads. Sonu Niigaam was virtually unknown before Sandese...
Why did you agree to judge the show Entertainment Ke Liye Kuch Bhi Karega when it had nothing to do with music?
That’s because I realised that real talent flowered in the villages. I was astonished to see this little girl with a supple body effortlessly having ice cream with her feet. Or the 20 acrobat boys who synchronised their moves to depict a plane about to take off. Then there were the fire stunts. We didn’t know that the show would go into second season or that youngsters had limitless capabilities.
You have worked with big directors but not everyone has repeated you. Does it hurt?
I was amused, not hurt. Maybe others were better. Maybe they needed me at that time. They have moved on, so have I. I’ll never ask Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra why you didn’t come back to me after Aks. That doesn’t mean I won’t be friends with him. In this industry, people come and go. That doesn’t mean you will go about burning bridges. The beauty is when they come back to me because I have given everybody my best. Farah Khan has already asked me to do two songs for her next venture. Then there’s a big international project, TV shows... my hands are full.
Is the trend of having individual song composers than one music director good?
It is, because if I have two songs, it’s easy to get my royalties. AR Rahman in that sense is a very good musician, composer, programmer and businessman. He is now going to distribute his own music. Even Jackson had his own rights. It’s a sort of an insurance cover.
Copyright: Namaskaar, Air India’s inflight magazine
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