BOMBAY TIMES (September 13, 2020)

Singer Anuradha Paudwal’s son, Aditya, succumbed to kidney failure on Saturday morning. According to reports, the 35-year-old, who was a music composer, arranger and producer, was battling kidney-related ailments for a long time. From the music fraternity, Shankar Mahadevan, Adnan Sami, Pankaj Udhas, Harshdeep Kaur and Armaan Malik were among those who took to social media to express grief over the young musician’s demise.

Shankar wrote, “Devastated hearing this! Our dearest Aditya Paudwal is no more!! Just can’t believe this! What an amazing musician and a lovely human being!! I just sang a song which was programmed by him so beautifully two days back! Just can’t come to terms with this!! Love you brother... miss you (sic).”

Singer Harshdeep Kaur said, “Extremely devastating news. He was truly talented and such a sweet person. May his soul rest in peace.”

Ghazal maestro Pankaj Udhas pays heartfelt tribute to the doyen of Hindustani classical music, Pandit Jasraj
As told to Sonia Lulla (MID-DAY; August 18, 2020)

My first interaction with him was in the mid-'70s, when I was struggling to find my feet. After that, I met him frequently. He was full of love and blessings, and always motivated people. My most recent memory of him is from this February: The sons of famous qawwali duo Shankar-Shambhu hold an annual felicitation event, the Shankar-Shambhu Awards, where they honour a musician of high calibre. This year, they gave the award to Pandit Jasraj ji. At the age of 90, here was a man who was so alert. He held my hand as we made our way to the stage, and for the entire duration that I spoke about him, and his speech that followed, he didn't let go of my hand.

I won't forget how he expressed his love for me.

He was the doyen of classical singing. Indian classical vocalists feel orphaned today. Artistes like him are not born anymore. At 90, he had the same dedication for music that he did 50 years ago. He dedicated himself to the upliftment of the genre.

I had worked on an album with Sadhana Sargam, who was Pandit ji's student. I recall [being mesmerised] as soon as she began singing. I told her she was fortunate to have learnt from him, and that I wish I too had a chance to be his student. His [superior] method of teaching is evident in the success of his disciples. [He was a great teacher] because he had an understanding of Indian classical music, and was well-versed with our scriptures and Vedas. Hence, he knew the techniques of classical singing, which also involves voice culture. The technique includes voice modulation, breath-control and the perfect pronunciation. If you've worked with Pandit ji, you are likely to be well-versed with ragas. Only someone who is familiar with them can do justice to them. We will miss his presence, but his music will live on in the hearts [of his fans].

Singer Pankaj Udhas, who completed 40 years in the industry, reminds us that Ghazals — the genre he pioneered — should go through a revival
Sanskrita Bharadwaj (HINDUSTAN TIMES; March 22, 2020)

As a young girl growing up in the ’90s, it would be an anomaly if you didn’t gush over John Abraham in Pankaj Udhas’ music video for Chupke Chupke, or if you didn’t empathise with Sameera Reddy’s in Aur Ahista. Udhas, in the Indian context, is a Ghazal singer beyond recognition. Not only a prolific singer, he had a certain flair for coming up with romantic and mushy, yet unusual videos for all his songs.

This year, the maestro has marked 40 years in the industry. A feat, he says, he’s proud of as he never thought he could be “popular”. “My passion for this form of music is absolutely pure. Even today, I never get tired of the genre. I genuinely believe that it is my passion and hard work which has paid off,” he adds.

Back in the day
The singer, who comes from a family where everyone was into music in some way or the other, says, “My father used to play an instrument called the dilruba. It is closer to a sarangi and he played it like a hobby. I have two elder brothers — Manhar and Nirmal Udhas. They’re both well-known singers. Manhar has sung quite a few popular film songs. I am the youngest of the three, so, I grew up learning a lot from them. I took it up from there, and then, internally decided that I wanted to sing. I completed my school and college education. The point is that I grew up in an era, where there were only two music labels available and to get a deal with them was like winning an Oscar. You had to really prove yourself. I was lucky to be able to record a film song at only 20 years of age, for a film called Kaamna (1972), the music for which was composed by Usha Khanna. I sang a nazam; it was a beautiful one. After that, I struggled hard to get a break.”

He admits that at one point he had plans of “giving up”. “I felt I should look for an alternate vocation in life, because it was not working out. I took a break and went away to Canada for some time. I thought of making a living there. You wouldn’t believe… within three to four days of my arrival in Canada, I ended up singing. I did many concerts there. I realised two things. Firstly, I could hold an audience of 600 to 700 people for three hours by singing Ghazals. Secondly, I gathered tremendous confidence about being able to entertain people,” he elaborates.

The market in Canada, Udhas says, was limited and he knew his future and destiny lay in India. So, he packed his bags and came back.

Udhas grew up in the era of the radio. For him, there were no other means of listening to music. “We had a radio at home that kept playing most of the time. Two singers who really inspired me were Begum Akhtar and Lata Mangeshkar,” he says.

Four decades
The singer, who lent his voice to cult songs like Chitthi Aayi Hai (Naam; 1986), has performed all across the world and has also made an impact in Bollywood and Indie music through his songs. He is witness to the change that music has gone through, especially in India, over the years.

“The business model of music has changed tremendously since I started my career in 1980. Back then, it was a brick and mortar business of CDs and cassettes. Although it was difficult to 'make it big', if you were good, 60,000 cassettes could be sold out within five days of the song being out. The revenue generated also went on in promoting and giving a space to new artistes. But, today, we have reached a point in the music business where not enough revenues are made. If you do a single or an album, you put it on iTunes. But India is still not ready to use a credit card and purchase music online. There are online payment options, but at the grassroots, buyers are still not using it,” Udhas explains.

Will times change?
There is a known concept, Udhas says, that television does not work anymore. “I feel it still does. It is very effective. Television drove my music videos as well. The other important elements are various social media apps, where you create your channel and try to make a base. Bollywood, of course, is still big,” he says.

According to Udhas, YouTube needs to be used more effectively. “I have my own channel and I have more than 1,00,000 subscribers as of now. I was a little late and a little slow on it, but what I have tried to develop is a certain side of my personality. I think there should be informative programmes about Ghazal singers and Ghazals. That could be a way to keep the genre alive,” the singer signs off.

MOHRA MOVES: Akshay Kumar is set to do a remake of this song. However, the drenched lady will be played by Katrina Kaif instead of Raveena. (Right below) Alia Bhatt dances to the same tune

Arnab Ray (THE TIMES OF INDIA; July 7, 2019)

As Indian cities struggle with dwindling supplies of water, prompting even Leonardo DiCaprio, the man who died from too much water in Titanic, to tweet about the dangers of too little, it is worth remembering the great film Mohra.

Released twenty-five years ago (on July 1, 1994), many scientists blame it for triggering the water crisis that has swept the world. According to legend that was spread over the WhatsApp of the day, during the shooting of ‘Tip Tip Barsa Paani’, a song featuring Akshay Kumar and Raveena Tandon, entire oceans were drained through the action of drenching reporter Roma Singh played by Raveena Tandon, as she danced on the roof under a deluge that would make Noah keep his ark tethered to the shore, while Akshay Kumar, observed the effect of buoyancy and Bernoulli’s equation in real-life fluid conditions, and then decided to become a Canadian citizen. This song, over the course of 25 years, has led to much wastage of wetness, and to this day, remains a popular staple of Bhojpuri orchestra performances where water is poured on the dancer to the tune of this song in tepid simulations of the original, with nary a concern for the environment.

But to limit the scope and impact of Mohra to just this one song is like dismissing Sistine Chapel as just a painted ceiling.

Mohra is a cinematic milestone, the kind of movie that not influences a genre but who you choose to become. Released a month before Hum Aapke Hain Koun...!, which would irrevocably change the face of Bollywood with chocolate, lime juice and “mausam ka jadoo hain mitwa”, Mohra was the last Elaan-e-Jung of the old Bollywood action potboiler, before the Barjatyas, the Chopras and the Johars would flood out the genre forever with their pink slush of fraud NRInostalgic romantic sugar-water.

Inspired by Death Wish 4, Mohra almost had its thunder taken away by an earlier released inspired by the exact same film. Called Bhookamp (Earthquake) it had the legendary Rahul Roy dancing to “Tum jo mile gulshan khile” with Mamata Kulkarni, but for reasons I shall never understand, like how cricketer Devang Gandhi never became Don Bradman, it sunk without a trace.

Mohra though was made of sterner stuff. Akshay Kumar, Raveena Tandon, who was the real hero of the movie and the joker of the pack, Sunil Shetty (then without the “e”), ably backed by Paresh Rawal and Naseeruddin Shah, this was 90s cinema at its very best.

Names like Jindaalll and Tyson and Gibran.

Superhit tunes from the Amit Shah of techno-qawwali, Viju Shah.

Roaring action.

Lyrics like “Subaah se lekar shaam tak, shaam se lekar raat tak, raat se lekar subaah tak, subah se phir sham tak, mujhe pyar karo” which depending on your mood could be a soft romantic song or the tag line for Viagra.

Never-saw-that-coming twists like Pankaj Udhas doing the voice of Sunil Shetty.

The most beautiful description of fault tolerant system architectures I have ever encountered in popular cinema in “Ei kaash kahee aisa hota, ke do dil hote seene mein, ek toot bhi jata ishq mein to, taqleef na hotee jeene mein”

The most poetic excuse for an unintentional breaking of wind in “Chalee kaisi yeh pagal pawan main kya karoon”.

But all of this pales in front of the most bizarre ending of the era, something straight out of David Lynch, with Naseeruddin Shah, the villain, who rather than escaping from the clutches of the hero, chooses to waste precious time trying to humiliate him, first by making him get down on his knees, then slap himself and then finally making him take off his pants, while giving live commentary “Patloon utaar raha hai, Baat accha hai” in the deliriously happy tone of Manjrekar when a player from Mumbai plays well, while all the while Sunil Shetty screams Naheeee naheee, which would inspire years down the road, some of the most iconic sequences of Dhadkan, the last great 90s movie ever made, again starring the two leading heroes of Mohra.

Twenty-five years ago. All of this happened.

Aah how time flies.

Seems just like yesterday, Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast rocked Superhit Muqabla.

Seems just like yesterday a twenty-something with oversized glasses walked into a singlescreen theater elbowing through the crowd steaming with sweat and expectation.

Seems just like yesterday, that watching Hindi films was fun. 

As told to Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; July 2, 2018)

I grew up in the City of Dreams, schooled at Bombay Scottish and after graduating in Economics from Jai Hind College, did my masters in management studies from the Mumbai Education Trust (MET). I then got started with the four Ps. For those who are wondering about the Ps, let me explain... To understand what a product or service can offer the consumer and plan for a successful product offering, we have what is known in marketing terms as the four Ps — Price, Product, Promotion, Place.

I wanted to be a strategic planner and an implementation buyer so I interned with an ad agency, Euro RSCG, working under V Ramani. After that, I joined Enterprise Nexus Communications Pvt Ltd as a media planner. My boss Hiren Pandit gave me the opportunity to become what I am today.

Media planners analyse data and thinking creatively come up with innovative strategies to help the client reach specific markets and target audience. Depending on the package, the idea is to come up with the most effective media plan. This can take a couple of months and involves hours of backbreaking research, sometimes ending in heartbreaks. If one number changes, you have to go back to the table.

My first account was The Times Of India group. It was exhausting but at the same time exciting to work with one of India’s biggest publishing houses with credentials to match. Meanwhile, when a model didn’t show up for a shoot, I was pushed into taking his place. I ended up showcasing a pair of jeans and became a part-time model.

In 1999, I took part in Maureen Wadia’s Gladrags Manhunt Contest while planning a move to a bigger agency. To my surprise, I was shortlisted for the international Manhunt contest in Manila, Phillipines. I was the first runner-up and magically, the world opened up for me. But when I look back, I realise that had I been an inch shorter, I might never have made it as an international model. At 6 feet 1 inch, I just made the grade and was signed by Carrie Models. I worked in Singapore, Hong Kong, London and New York. Then, I returned home, continuing to make merry.

My first ad campaign was for a soap brand. I was the Cinthol Man. Sabal Shekawat gave me my first break and I recall running through the jungles of Mauritius, 20 top models, including Madhu Sapre and Diandra Soares, chasing after me. It was a memorable shoot!

Along with modelling assignments, I also started featuring in music videos, going on to collaborate with popular singers like Hans Raj Hans and Pankaj Udhas. I’ve never forgotten Pankaj’s “Chupke Chupke” whose music video Anubhav Sinha had directed. It was a sweet, innocent song which went on to become all the rage then and is still remembered today. Then, Bollywood beckoned...

I got two film offers from two Bhatts. Vikram Bhatt offered me the role of a baddie in Aetbaar while Mahesh Bhatt approached me to play the antagonist in Jism, an erotic-thriller his daughter Pooja was producing for which he wanted a new face and not a star. The agency didn’t want to lose me but my closest friends insisted I give films a go. My family has always supported me in everything I’ve done and encouraged by their confidence I took the plunge into showbiz.

It was a challenge because as a model you are just a face and a body, endorsing a brand, but as an actor you play a character who can be your polar opposite. It needs a mind and takes you places.

In 2003, I appeared on screen in my first feature film, Jism, as an alcoholic lawyer who gets caught up in an extramarital affair which destroys him. Fifteen years later, I am not just acting in but also making my own movies, from Vicky Donor and Madras Cafe to Rocky Handsome, Force 2 and the recently released Parmanu. The era of the supermodel which had yielded the likes of Milind Soman, Arjun Rampal and Dino Morea ended with me. And I ended up in the movies but the media planner in me still touches different aspects of my life. I plan my life and investments and position my films in a way that they reach the audience in the best possible way, calling into play all that I have learnt about GRPs, TRPs and OTS. I even strategise on my football team’s (he has 90 per cent stakes in NorthEast United Football Club which plays in Indian Football League) jersey, brand positioning and ticket sales. Once you enter the market, you are there to stay. But that’s not enough for me, I want to ensure I am always at the top of my game.


A still from Pankaj Udhas’s ‘Chupke Chupke’; John in his early days (top)

BT talks to a cross section of artistes from the industry to find out why Bollywood has fallen out of tune with the genre
Rachana Dubey (BOMBAY TIMES; November 18, 2016)

BOMBAY TIMES (May 18, 2015)

Roshmilla Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; October 28, 2014)

Sanjay Dutt's career got off to a Rocky start in '81. Following a battle with drugs and a series of flops, it had hit a dead end five years later. In these testing times, his buddy who became his brother-in-law, Kumar Gaurav, not only stood by him but was determined to make a film that would bring him back into the race. This film was Naam.

The idea of two half-brothers came from Mahesh Bhatt, who during his growing up years was haunted by the ghost of his own illegitimacy. He sketched out the story of Ravi and Vicky to the two young actors and instantly, impulsively, Kumar Gaurav decided to turn it into a film under his banner.

His father, Rajendra Kumar, wasn't convinced, having spotted the dangers inherent in the script. "Even though it was a two-hero project, Rajendra Kumar knew that the audience's sympathies would eventually swing from Kumar Gaurav's character Ravi to Sanju's bad boy Vicky," reasons Bhatt who went on to direct the film.

Naturally, no father would want his son to get over-shadowed in a film he was producing but Kumar Gauarv stood his ground and insisted he wanted to make this film and none other.

Eventually his dad gave in.

Bhatt then took his idea to Salim Khan. After the split of the Salim-Javed jodi, Javed Akhtar was the one getting the plum offers and it was being said that Salim had been just the business component in the partnership that had given Bollywood blockbusters like Sholay, Zanjeer, Trishul and Seeta Aur Geeta. Naam brought Salim Khan back into the spotlight as a scriptwriter and he gave it all he had. "He added box-office sparkle to my offbeat story of two half brothers and turned it into a blockbuster. Naam was my first golden jubilee," reminisces Bhatt.

Sanjay Dutt, he remembers, was like a bhakt who surrendered himself completely to the film with single-minded dedication and boundless energy. "I never saw that kind of focus in Sanju again. With his stunning performance, he broke people's heart. We became a lifelong friend and years later, on the eve of his departure to the Yerwada Jail, I remember sitting with him and feeling as helpless as Kumar Gaurav's character in Naam because there was so little that I could do for him," he sighs.

There's a word of praise for Amrita Singh too who played Sanjay's wife and the mother of his unborn child for whom he finally decides to give up his life of crime and return home. It was like waking up to a new day after a long dark night and was beautifully expressed in the song, Chhiti aaye hai.

"Laxmikant-Pyarelal scored some beautiful songs for the film, but this is the one people still want to talk about whenever I travel to the Middle-East," says Bhatt, recalling how when Rajendra Kumar first heard Anand Bakshi's lyrics he innocently asked about the mukhdas and the anatras, convinced that a song that strayed from the traditional format would not work. Bhatt was far more accepting and Bakshi told their producer, "That's why you have put a younger director in charge. He understands my language, you don't," Once again, Rajendra Kumar gracefully gave in.

Pankaj Udhas, a popular ghazal singer in the '80s, not only recorded it but it was also picturised on him. "Pankaj would shoot for us during the day and sing at concerts at night. He struck a chord with the Indian and Pakistani diaspora," points out Bhatt, adding that Salim saab had stressed on the bonds of brotherhood between the two countries through the friendship of Sanjay and Aakash Khurana, his Pakistani neighbour who stands by him when he is imprisoned in Dubai.

As he signs off Bhatt adds Naam's misguided search for identity would not have had the emotional impact it did without its mother figure. He says, "Nutan wasn't keeping well at the time but she instantly agree to do the role and would come on the sets an hour-and-a-half early to get into the skin of the character. As always she was outstanding!"