Showing posts with label Ustad Amir Khan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ustad Amir Khan. Show all posts
My father S Venkat Rao tore down my Leonardo DiCaprio posters because I hadn’t practised-Shilpa Rao
9:13 AM
Shilpa Rao, the first musician appearing on The Bombay Film Story, recounts how her father once tore down posters of Led Zeppelin and Leonardo DiCaprio as she didn't practised for a week
Mayank Shekhar (MID-DAY; December 29, 2025)
Navigating two names and many worlds, Shilpa Rao has existed in a state of contradiction — classically trained yet instinctively contemporary, intensely disciplined yet emotionally fluid, present everywhere in popular memory and almost invisible as a personality. Her voice has travelled further than her face, from the haunting minimalism of Tose Naina in Anwar (2007) to Chaleya from Jawan (2023). Sitting down for mid-day’s The Bombay Film Story, the National Award-winning singer speaks about choosing music as a way of life rather than hobby. Excerpts from the interview.
You were born Apeksha Rao. So how did Apeksha become Shilpa?
Shilpa Rao: I was actually born Shilpa. That’s what everyone at home always called me. Apeksha came later, when I went to school and had to fill out official forms. So, that became the name on my school records and 10th standard certificate. But when I got my passport made, everything officially became Shilpa Rao again. Apeksha literally means expectation. It felt heavy. I’ve always been someone who prefers being in the background, doing things at my own pace, and not carrying the burden of expectations. Shilpa felt lighter.
You hail from Jamshedpur. That city has produced Imtiaz Ali, R Madhavan, Priyanka Chopra, and Abhishek Chaubey. What’s it about that city?
Rao: Jamshedpur is a unique place. It’s a Tata township, and most people there are professionals — engineers, doctors, teachers. The only flex parents have is education. That creates an environment where ideas matter. You have XLRI [Xavier School of Management], Loyola School, film clubs, and theatre culture. We grew up watching classical maestros like Parween Sultanaji and Ustad Bismillah Khan sahib. There were no phones, no distractions, just conversations. That’s what shaped us.
Was music internal or external to your home?
Rao: It was my first education before the alphabet. My brother Anurag is the better musician; he’s a jazz pianist. He knew what he wanted at three years old. I didn’t want to do anything! But music became my safety blanket. My father always said, ‘There are two lives — one with art and music, and one without. Always choose the one with art.’ Even if you don’t make a career out of it, it enriches your life. Music becomes a friend.
Your father S Venkat Rao trained you. Was he a taskmaster?
Rao: He could be strict. Once he tore down posters of Led Zeppelin and Leonardo DiCaprio in my room because I hadn’t practiced for a week. He said, ‘The point is you didn’t even realize you hadn’t practiced.’ What truly made him happy wasn’t success or awards, but my desire to learn. He believed music isn’t a hobby. Once I had said music is my hobby, and he was furious. His thinking was that anything that would deter me from pursuing my music should not exist in my life.
Your father isn’t a professional musician, yet he trained you deeply.
Rao: He is an engineer, he also has an MA in music. He heard Ustad Amir Khan live in 1972, and it transformed him. He believed in being an educated musician.
At 13, you met Hariharan. That was your first Bombay film story, wasn’t it?
Rao: Yes, we were visiting Mumbai on a holiday. My mother got his landline number through a friend and called him. It was my birthday, and he invited us home. No industry connection — just kindness. I sang a ghazal he had composed in Raag Durga, written by Bashir Badr. He corrected me line by line, teaching me the ebb and flow of the ghazal right there. For a 13-year-old, it was magical. At that time, my stand changed. That meeting made me start taking [my music] seriously.
How the melting marble slab shot was filmed in Baiju Bawra
8:25 AM
Roshmilla Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; July 8, 2014)
"My grandfather, Vijay Bhatt, told me that Dilip Kumar was the first choice but things didn't work out. That's when my granduncle Shankar Bhatt and his co-producer suggested they go with newcomers and the film launched the careers of Bharat Bhushan and Meena Kumari," reminisces filmmaker Vikram Bhatt. The film in question is the 1952 musical Baiju Bawra, produced and directed by Vikram's grandfather Vijay Bhatt.
Buzz is, date problems could have been the reason for Dilip Kumar opting out of the project, along with Nargis. "I don't know about Nargisji but Meena Kumari, who played the comely Gauri, was my grandfather's discovery. He'd launched Mahjabeen Bano as a child artiste in Leatherface in '39 and rechristened her Baby Meena," says Vikram.
For this film, composer Naushad Ali took home one of those coveted black statuettes, his only Filmfare Award, for his classical compositions like Man tarpat Hari darshan ko aaj, O duniya ke rakhwale, Tu Ganga ki mauj and Mohe bhool gaye saawariya to name a few.
"Naushad saab and my grandfather would work through the night and my grandmother would cook for them at odd hours," Vikram smiles, recalling the day of the recording of one of the songs by Lata Mangeshkar (she sang four, including Mohe bhool gaye saawariya, Bachpan ke mohabbat, Door koi gaye and Jhoole mein pawan ki aaye bahar and he can't recall which one it was). She was running a temperature but she still sang as she found the track "uplifting".
Over half a century later, Baiju Bawra is still remembered for these evergreen classics. Legend has it that as a boy, Baiju saw his father getting killed by Tansen's guards who wanted him to stop singing. Before dying his father got Baiju to promise that he would defeat the court musician and avenge his death. He eventually does, but he pleads with the Emperor not to kill Tansen as that would mean a death sentence for music too.
In 1952, at the age of 40, Ustad Amir Khan began to sing for films. His first was Tapan Sinha's Bengali film Kshudhita Pashan (Hungry stone). He was also a consultant to Naushad on Baiju Bawra which released in the same year. He was Tansen's voice and sang the bandish in Raaj Puriya Dhanashree, Tori jai jai kartar, the alaap Sargam in Raag Darbari and Ghanana ghanana Ghana garjo re in Raag Megh which was not included in the film but released as a record.
Even though Mohd Rafi was Baiju's voice in the songs O duniya ke rakhwale, Insaan bano, Tu Ganga ki mauj, Man tarpat Hari darshan ko and the duet Jhoole mein pawan ki aai bahar, there were long discussions on who would take on Amir Khan in the climatic duel when Baiju defeats Tansen. It was Khan saab who suggested that they approach Pandit D V Paluskar. Together, the two maestros recorded a six-minute jugalbandi in Raag Desi, Aaj gavat mana mero jhumke. They also sang Langar kankariya ji na maro in Raag Todi together. Their duel was the piece de resistance of the score.
The story goes that both the singers were at par with each other till Emperor Akbar suggested that whoever could melt a marble slab with his singing would win. And that's how Baiju wins the competition. When Vikram wondered how his grandfather had melted the sangarmar when special effects were unheard of, he was told that they had used fatkari!
He also points out that the Yamuna river was created at Prakash Studio for the film climax. "It was in this river that Biaju and Guari drowned so they could be reunited in another world".
However, in this world the film went on to be a superhit not just in India but worldwide. "It was the first Indian film to be telecast nationwide in Japan," he says.
Meena Kumari bagged her first Filmfare Award for her performance as Gauri while Bharat Bhushan not only managed to finally woo the critics but even his estranged father Raibahadur Motilal who was dead against his joining films. The actor in his diary page for Filmfare wrote about how his father had sneaked out to see the film and returned home to apologise for resenting his son's choice of career till then. Baiju still makes cinemgoers bawra and Vikram remembers his grandfather working on the film, 24X7 for two years. "So much so that people started calling him Viju Bawra," Vikram smiles.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)