First Amongst Equals

One of my favourite pastimes over the years has been shocking purists with what are considered generally as preposterous suggestions, and then fighting tooth and nail to prove it...like when one of my dear friends returned from England one day I told him in a matter of fact way that RD Burman is clearly a more gifted composer than Beethoven. He obviously fainted...and I grinned. For however illogical might the contest might be, it was the least I could do to retrieve some of the man's honour from behind the dhoti he used to put up during his last days in his verandah to cover his unemployment. He watched as he lost out to prolific yet predictable and relatively ordinary men. As the Hindi Film Music lovers gave their verdict and Allan Borders got the nod over Brian Lara, justice was mauled as never before. As for my causal love and admiration ( the former more than the latter, as he touched my heart more than my knowledge of music) and the resultant cheeky comparison, I truly find myself astonished when I mentally pit him against any exponent of classical, rock, jazz, blues, pop, disco, country or folk. He as usual kept silent, but his work spoke. And how. And though each of this genre was explored in the paradigm of Hindi Film Music, it was akin to a master linguist speaking a multitude of Indian and foreign languages, all with a common Bengali accent. For he was never good at speaking for himself...his melodies were the garrulous one. His bonding with the power of packaging and marketing and public relations and the whole goddamn paraphernalia of the music industry, were much less than with empty desks, discarded interludes,blank verse, glasses filled with water and plastic combs..with which he created the colours of his ditties. The economics of the process he never understood; he was meant for greater things. Yet in his last days when he wondered about the next square composition (he fed on music) and the Brutuses vanished for greener pastures before he could say 'that was the unkindest cut of all', it was his genius which shone forth in his swansong. A swansong maybe next to only Ray's Agantuk in Indian artdom. That too when he had lost his confidence (churning rehashed tunes and a jaded sound in Gurudev) and had forgotten that he was RD Burman, the foremost Jacques in the Hindi Film Music revolution. It was when a loyal Vidhu Vinod Chopra rejected a utterly commercial, transient, chart topper tune for Kuch na kaho, kuch bhi na kaho...when he asked for Panchamda's heart and soul...that he remembered. And ensured we will never forget.
I am sure even now he is colluding with Kishore Kumar to deliver gem after gem in the other world; that of spirits.And since spirits are wiser than human beings by general consensus(as they even the ultimate answer- what happens after death...), Pancham's merit recognition ratio must be a whole lot better. But I guess have to wait for a while to feast on those. For alas, Panchamda, I am alive.