DO include this song in your book,’ was Pyarelal Sharma’s advice in 2009. His instant recollection of the song, despite the thousands of compositions that Pyare Bhai must have heard or composed himself, is a passionate enough tribute to this melody.
What was common practice in the late 1940s was that the name of the playback singer did not appear in the film’s credits. Worse still, the singer’s name on the label of the HMV gramophone record no. N36030 was Kamini (the name of the film’s heroine played by Madhubala). All India Radio received a barrage of phone calls from listeners who wanted to know who had in fact sung the song. Lata Mangeshkar, barely twenty at the time, had unknowingly started a revolution.
‘Aayegaa aanewala’ was the theme song of a film that has acquired iconic status thanks to this one song. Though the rest of its melodies have been forgotten, its composer Khemchand Prakash will always be remembered for having persisted with young Lata. After many composers, from Sadashivrao Nevrekar, Dada Chandekar, Datta Davjekar to Ghulam Haider, had given her the initial breaks, Lata’s voice had been labelled ‘bahut patli’ (very thin) but Khemchand ‘Masterji’ Prakash was one of the few music directors who saw her potential. One of the reasons he walked out of Ranjit Movietone (where he had enjoyed a very successful career) was that the head of Ranjit Movietone, Sardar Chandulal Shah, would not give in to Masterji’s desire to get young Lata to sing.
The core tune of ‘Aayega aanewala’ is astonishingly simple in its construction. The main song is preceded by an extended sixty-second verse that starts with the line: ‘Khamosh hai zamana, chup chaap hain sitare’. Featured separately on a 78 rpm record, the introductory verse was supposedly written by Kamal Amrohi. ‘Aayegaa aanewala’ may have set the trend of having a poem precede the main song. It is unclear whether this approach was used before Mahal.
Nakshab Jarchvi, a young poet of the 1940s, penned the main verses.
There is an interesting story cited in Harish Bhimani’s biography of Lata Mangeshkar. Lata was carrying an expensive pen during the musical sittings and recording of Mahal. The pen had her name embossed on it. Lata was known to give presents to people if they liked something she had, and that is how Nakshab got Lata’s pen. He flaunted his gift to the other members of Bombay Talkies, suggesting a romantic relationship between the two. At the time, Lata hardly had the nerve to resist his advances. In fact, he went as far as entering the singer’s booth in the middle of a song recording for Naushad and demanding that Lata lay emphasis on the lines that talked of love.
Nakshab’s sporadic intrusions into her privacy in the form of the occasional ‘Adab aarz hai’ continued. Finally, mustering courage, Lata confided to Khemchand Prakash, who put an end to the poet’s amorous ambitions, and forced Nakshab to return the pen to Lata. Later, Lata threw the pen into the sea near Chowpatty beach.
Nevertheless, Lata’s pairing with Nakshab in this song was miraculous.
Though intended to exude a supernatural air in the sequence, which the shayari actually succeeds in doing, the melody of the mukhra is on the lines of a conventional tune, dispensing with the high-pitched note that one would expect in a number of this kind. The antara is used to build up the contrast. In what is a normal major scale composition, we find the unusual use of a Teevra Ma note, which adds an element of drama to the tune. The last two lines of the antara are sung in a higher octave, stressing the mood of yearning. Lata’s relaxed, unrushed singing with its sparkling enunciation of every word, and her correct emphasis on dramatic points, make the song special. A style Lata would go on to patent in the decades to come.
The song’s arrangement also creates an aura of fear with its use of the cello, double bass, and organ, enhancing the eerie atmosphere of the film. The track runs for over six and a half minutes, including the shayari, and because of its length, it had to be released on two 78 rpm records – ‘Khamosh hai zamana’ and ‘Aayega aanewala’.
Dr Mandar Bichu, pediatrician and film music historian, adds, ‘In the absence of proper reverb systems, the song was recorded with Lata singing the “sher” while walking towards the mike. This led to multiple takes.’ One also wonders that mikes in those days needed heating prior to recordings. Multiple takes must have mandated quite some time, as, apart from the time taken by the singer and the musicians, the set up time for microphones was added to the lead time.
The film’s origin makes for interesting reading. During a tour of Khandala, Ashok Kumar happened to stay in Jeejeebhoy House. One night he had a nightmare in which he apparently saw a murder that had taken place in the same house fourteen years ago. When he returned to Bombay, he narrated the incident to Kamal Amrohi who started imagining a ghost story. Mahal is the first film in the suspense/reincarnation genres of Hindi cinema. However, it has not aged well. Today, it seems rather dated and loses its way after five-odd reels. The build up to the song is fascinating though.
The opening scene shows a young lawyer, Hari Shankar (Ashok Kumar), taking shelter in Sangam Bhavan an old house, on a stormy night. The house has been unoccupied for many years. As the fierce storm rages on, the caretaker narrates the tragic tale of two lovers who once lived and perished in Sangam Bhavan. Hari Shankar wanders through the decaying house and stumbles on a portrait of a man who looks just like him. He starts to believe that he was the previous occupant of the mansion in a former lifetime and that fate had brought him back to reunite with his lover, Kamini (Madhubala).
Amrohi does not pursue this storyline to establish or dismiss the hero’s beliefs and, as a result, the script meanders. The anti-climactic revelation of Madhubala actually being the gardener’s daughter is too uninteresting for a story that promised thrills, but did not deliver. Kamal Amrohi, however, deserves credit for having tried something bold. Directors like Bimal Roy and Raj Khosla have undoubtedly been inspired by Mahal. Their respective ghost stories Madhumati (1958) and Woh Kaun Thi (1964) were both nerve-jangling and, at the same time, overpoweringly musical.
Khemchand Prakash passed away shortly after the release of Mahal, arguably his most famous work. He was only forty-three. In addition to giving Lata Mangeshkar the song that made her the voice of the nation, he also gave Kishore Kumar his first solo in the film Ziddi (1948).