The Later Lata

A Tribute to Her Enduring Legacy in a New Era of Music

One never needs an occasion to write about Lata. However, looking at the books on film music released over the past year, I've noticed one thing: the songs of Lata Mangeshkar from the post-1965 era are seldom revisited. For my generation, born in the sixties, these songs are just as beloved as those from the so-called golden age. These are our memories...

The mythological tale of the tree, involving Shri Krishna, Satyabhama, and Rukmini, is perhaps the primordial inspiration for the countless love triangles in our Hindi films. In the story, the divine tree is planted in Satyabhama's courtyard, yet its fragrant blossoms fall into Rukmini's. I often recall this story in a different context when discussing Lata's songs and the sentimentality surrounding her "golden era." (And let me remind you, referring to Lata Mangeshkar in the singular is a birthright for every generation of fans—past, present, and future—a right that will remain firmly in place even after her centenary). For the sake of this narrative, I see Lata as the tree and her songs as its celestial flowers. Music connoisseurs generally divide her career thus: 1950 to 1960 was the true golden age; the next five years were its lingering shadow; the five after that, its fading embers; and everything that followed was merely a memory of that golden age. As long as these flowers fell into the "courtyard" of the 1950-1965 timeline, they were considered true blossoms. After 1970, the same tree bore the same flowers, which fell just as tenderly into the same courtyard of time. However, the earlier generation of listeners remained intoxicated by the fragrance of the older blossoms, with many adopting a stance that these new ones were not flowers at all. Others simply turned their backs, saying, "They may well be flowers, but they mean nothing to us." My generation was born between 1965 and 1970, a time when the so-called golden age was setting and the silver, copper, and brass ages were dawning. Assuming that one's ears truly begin to understand and the heart begins to feel music around the age of 12 or 13, it was already 1975-80 by the time we came of age. Before us lay the past of the golden age and the present of the silver age taking shape. The thread connecting these two eras, for us, was the two-syllable mantra: ‘Lata’. I don't blame our venerable elders. The human mind and its emotional 'receiver' are receptive to new things from about the age of 12-13 until the late forties. After that, the receiver often stops working. The ability, desire, and even the need to accept new things diminishes, and one begins to dwell in the past. The primary audience for commercial Hindi films has always been the 15-40 age group, whose tastes are shaped by a changing society. The urgent need for films and their songs to be the sole emotional anchor of life was fading. Post-independence, the idealistic dreams about society and love began to dilute. Social angst was on the rise. The films of this period couldn't possibly be like those of the previous two decades. How, then, could the music and songs remain the same? The era of complex Urdu poetry was ending, giving way to simpler compositions. The tempo of songs quickened with the times. With the spread of education, a 'democratization' of music was underway. It was by embracing all these changes that music directors like Laxmikant-Pyarelal, Kalyanji-Anandji, and R. D. Burman could dominate the next two and a half decades. The older maestros found it difficult to adapt and thus became composers of the 'bygone era.' The fault isn't theirs; it's the universal condition that at a certain age, the 'receiver' stops functioning (the same has happened to my generation post-2010). In my opinion, the bridge that held these two eras together was Lata Mangeshkar. And because this was a bridge built in the British era, it stood strong. We have all seen how subsequent bridges crumbled into obscurity within a few short years. So, while acknowledging the greatness of Lata's countless silken melodies until 1965 and bowing to their supremacy, here are some memories of Lata's songs from time.

The Composers of Our Era

Before turning to the three composers who defined the 25 years after 1965-70, I must mention the oft-overlooked composer Ravi. Despite giving Lata many beautiful songs, he was sidelined by connoisseurs as belonging "neither to the golden age nor to the era that followed." But our generation held no such prejudices. If we loved a song, its creator was ours. As the sixties ended, two of Ravi's Lata gems, ‘Woh Dil Kahan Se Laoon Teri Yaad Jo Bhula De’ (, 1963) and ‘Tumhi Mere Mandir, Tumhi Meri Pooja’ (, 1965), provided us emotional solace on the cusp of adolescence and youth. The desire for someone to see you as their temple (‘Tumhi Mere Mandir’), the despair when that wish remains unfulfilled (‘Woh Dil Kahan Se Laoon’), and the realization that she is playing games with someone else, leading to ‘Gairon Pe Karam’ (, 1968)—these songs were our companions. Sahir's line in the last song, (How can I tolerate your hands on the dancing shoulders of others?), though sung by the heroine, ironically gave more comfort to us men. Laxmikant-Pyarelal (LP), Kalyanji-Anandji (K-A), and R. D. Burman held the reins of film music for the next two and a half decades. While R.D. used Asha Bhosle's voice as much as Lata's, and LP also gave Asha plenty of songs, it is Lata who remains the defining female voice of LP's music until the rise of Anuradha Paudwal. Kalyanji-Anandji were composers with one foot in the golden age and one in the era that followed. After 1975, they completely reinvented their style, giving opportunities to many new singers as orchestration began to overshadow the vocalist's prowess. Yet, whenever they got a film or a situation that demanded the gravitas of Lata's voice, they seized it. A chronological look at their songs reveals the clever evolution of their style: ‘Ek Tu Na Mila’ (, 1965), ‘Chhod De Saari Duniya’ (, 1968), ‘Mera Padhne Mein Nahi Laage Dil’ (, 1974), ‘Maano To Main Ganga Maa Hoon’ (, 1978), ‘Salaam-E-Ishq’ (, 1978), and ‘O Saathi Aa’ (, 1982). While many of these are on everyone's list, the song that met me at a specific stage of my life was ‘O Saathi Aa, Saare Sahare Toot Jaye, Log Humse Rooth Jaye...’. Lata's pleading, yearning voice in that composition and the reassuring emotion in the lines (I am your support, and you are mine) defined Kalyanji-Anandji of the post-1970 era for me. Laxmikant-Pyarelal's entire career began after 1964, making them composers of time. They composed around six hundred solo songs for Lata, of which at least four hundred became hits. After their initial three or four years, LP quickly moved out from under the influence of Shankar-Jaikishan and, by extension, the golden age. During this transition, they delivered Lata masterpieces like ‘Khabar Mori Na Leeni Re’ and ‘Suno Sajna Papihe Ne Kaha Sabse Pukarke’. They soon sensed the pulse of a new world. In 1969, they had Lata sing ‘Kaise Rahun Chup, Ke Maine Pi Hi Kya Hai, Hosh Abhitak Hai Baaki’. The delicate hiccup Lata renders in this song is as dear to us as the one in the 1953 classic ‘Mohabbat Mein Aise Kadam Dagmagaye’ from . We loved it again in 1981 in ‘Maara Thumka’ (). The evolution through the decades of the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s is palpable in LP's music, and in every phase, Lata's voice was a primary instrument in their arsenal. The music of ‘Bobby’ was a turning point, not just for LP but for Indian film music as a whole, as it changed not just musical templates but also the style of lyric writing. Lata's song from that film, ‘Jhoot Bole Kauwa Kaate,’ became our generation's "national anthem of heartbreak." This song immediately brings to mind another LP-Lata classic from the same year, 1973: ‘Jab Bhi Ji Chahe Nayi Duniya Basa Lete Hain Log’ from . Despite being a Sahir Ludhianvi admirer, listening to these two songs together made me realize, with joy, that Anand Bakshi could also reach Sahir's lofty heights. I know hundreds of Lata's solos and duets for LP by heart. I wish I could mention every single one, for we grew up, matured, stumbled, and found ourselves with these songs. ‘Parbat Ke Is Paar’ () and ‘Nindiya Se Jaagi Bahaar’ () leave us spellbound. Listening to ‘Solah Baras Ki Baali Umar Ko Salaam’ from still gives me goosebumps. ‘Sheesha Ho Ya Dil Ho, Aakhir Toot Jaata Hai’ from brings us back to earth, while ‘Haye Haye Yeh Majburi’ tickles our senses. I love the hundreds of duets Lata sang for LP with Rafi, Mukesh, and Kishore, but I also cherish an unconventional gem with S.P. Balasubrahmanyam, ‘Yeh Waqt Na Kho Jaye’. And Suresh Wadkar's duet, ‘Megha Re Megha Re’, fills my eyes with emotion every monsoon. The way Lata's voice dips to a lower register for the line is so beautifully executed that one doesn't even need to see the screen to feel the emotion. Yet, despite loving hundreds of their songs, if I had to pick just a few from the long Lata-LP journey, the title track of ‘Satyam Shivam Sundaram’ would be at the very top. From the opening line, , the song connects you to a universal truth, with Lata's voice as the divine medium. The Lata-LP collaboration is truly a treasure trove of joy. And then comes Pancham, aka R.D. Burman. The same Lata, the same voice, yet it sounds different with him. Many say that Lata sounds sweeter with R.D. than with LP, and there is certainly truth in that. The unparalleled songs born from the artistic collaboration of Lata and R.D. are a subject of immense affection for many. We all know the usual suspects, so let's mention a few before moving on to others: ‘Ghar Aaja Ghir Aayi’ (, 1961), ‘Raina Beeti Jaye’ (, 1971), ‘Aaja Piya Tohe Pyaar Doon’ (, 1967), ‘Beeti Na Bitai Raina’ (, 1972), ‘Dilbar Dil Se Pyaare’ (, 1971), ‘Aaj Kal Paon Zameen Par Nahi Padte Mere’ (, 1978), ‘Sharm Aati Hai Magar Aaj Yeh Kehna Hoga’ (, 1968), ‘Bahon Mein Chale Aao’ (, 1973), ‘Na Koi Umang Hai’ (, 1971), ‘Do Nainon Mein Aansoo Bhare Hain’ (, 1975), ‘Tere Bina Jiya Jaye Na’ (, 1978), and ‘Jaane Kya Baat Hai Neend Nahi Aati’ (, 1984). Just as LP and Anand Bakshi are often named together, the duo of Gulzar and R.D. Burman left a distinct mark with the films they did together. The only difference is that the LP-Santosh Anand pairing (for films like , , , ) never received the same intellectual acclaim. One could argue that R.D. earned his intellectual standing precisely because of these few, select collaborations. For me, both these lyricist-composer duos have brought equal joy. R.D. Burman was a composer entirely of the post-golden age. His first film released in 1961, and with in 1966, he truly arrived, stepping out of the shadow of his father, S.D. Burman. Beyond the oft-discussed Lata-RD classics, there are many others that deserve mention but are rarely discussed: ‘Paas Nahi Aana’ (), ‘Aaina Wohi Rehta Hai’ (), ‘Saagar Kinare’ (), ‘Ae Ri Pawan’ (), and ‘Humne Sanam Ko Khat Likha’ (). A unique aspect of R.D.'s career is his work for the three major "star sons" launched in the early 80s: Sanjay Dutt, Sunny Deol, and Kumar Gaurav. R.D. composed the music for all their debut films, and in each, he chose Lata's voice for the heroine. For the generation that blossomed into youth in the seventies, the songs from these three films are deeply intertwined with our emotional world. In , Lata's voice alongside Kishore Kumar in ‘Kya Yehi Pyaar Hai’ and ‘Hum Tumse Mile’ was incredibly soft and sweet (she had just turned fifty then), and its sweetness can still stir a storm in the heart. The same year saw the release of . At the time, lines like made many worry about the declining standards of Hindi film lyrics. But for forty years, we have cherished these songs, and our love for the golden age never stood in the way. Two years later came Sunny Deol's , which was filled with Lata's voice. Even the generally unimpressive Shabbir Kumar sounded acceptable alongside her in these songs. ‘Jab Hum Jawan Honge’, ‘Apne Dil Se Badi Dushmani Ki’, and ‘Badal Yun Garajta Hai’—in these songs, Lata was speaking to us in our own language. The lines and are etched in our memory forty years later, despite the poetry not being particularly profound. As I said earlier, it is the combined effect of the song and the listener's age. To conclude the chapter on R.D. and Lata, the final song that comes to mind is, of course, ‘Kuch Na Kaho’ from . It was the only song Lata sang in the film. She was 65 years old. Blockbusters like and would follow a year later. This is one reason why they say Lata Mangeshkar is a miracle.

The Enduring Melodists

In our post-golden era, Lata's voice found a perfect match with a composer from the golden age itself, resulting in some truly unparalleled and sublime music. That shining diamond was Khayyam. His film (1966) and its song ‘Baharon Mera Jeevan Bhi Sanwaro’ belong to the final steps of the golden age. Without allowing the new era to significantly touch his style and while always honouring the sanctity of poetry, Khayyam held the flag of melody high even after 1970. Consequently, he was never a "popular" or "busy" composer—a price not everyone is willing to pay. One must consider his songs before passing judgment on the music of the post-1970 period: Lata's solos ‘Dikhai Diye Yun’ (, 1982), ‘Khwab Bankar Koi Aayega’, ‘Jalta Hai Badan’, and ‘Ae Dil-E-Nadaan’ (all from , 1983); and a series of outstanding duets—‘Tere Chehre Se Nazar Nahi Hat'ti’ (, with Kishore, 1976), ‘Aap Ki Mehki Hui Zulfon Ko’ (, with Yesudas, 1978), ‘Aankhon Mein Humne Aapke Sapne Sajaye Hain’ and ‘Hazaar Raahein Mud Ke Dekhi’ (both from , with Kishore, 1980, marking a rare Gulzar-Khayyam collaboration), ‘Simti Hui Yeh Ghadiyan’ (, with Rafi, 1980), ‘Na Jaane Kya Hua Jo Tune Chhoo Liya’ (, 1981), ‘Chandni Raat Mein Ek Baar Tujhe Dekha Hai’ (, 1982), and ‘Phir Chhidi Raat Baat Phoolon Ki’ (, with Talat Aziz, 1982). Another composer who must be mentioned is Jaidev. Just as the doors of the golden age were closing, he gave us the timeless ‘Raat Bhi Hai Kuch Bheegi Bheegi’ (, 1963). He followed it with masterpieces like ‘Tu Chanda Main Chandni’ (, 1971), ‘Yeh Dil Aur Unki Nigahon Ke Saaye’ and ‘Yeh Neer Kahan Se Barse Hai’ (, 1973), and ‘Tumhe Dekhti Hoon Toh Lagta Hai Aise’ (, 1978). Though few in number, each of these songs is a priceless necklace. Our generation has cherished them in our hearts. Alongside these stalwarts, many other composers in the second and third tiers were creating fine tunes in the seventies and beyond. Each one of them dreamt of working with Lata, and when they got the chance, they poured their best into the opportunity. This brief overview of post-seventies Lata songs would be incomplete without mentioning a few. It's important to remember that after 1975, the nature of Hindi cinema changed. Romantic plots became rare, and hero-centric revenge sagas proliferated. The number of solo songs for the heroine decreased dramatically. That is why, among the composers who emerged after 1975, Lata's solos are few and far between. Rajesh Roshan (son of composer Roshan), Ravindra Jain, and Bappi Lahiri were three composers who remained commercially relevant until about 2000. By the time the next generation of composers arrived, Lata had crossed the age of seventy. From his very first film, , Rajesh Roshan showcased a unique style. Lata's solo ‘Yeh Raatein Nayi Purani’ and her duets with Kishore Da, ‘Dil Kya Kare Jab Kisi Ko’ and ‘Bhool Gaya Sab Kuch’, were the love anthems of our generation. His distinct musical grammar produced some exceptionally sweet melodies: ‘Pal Bhar Mein Yeh Kya Ho Gaya’ (, 1977), ‘Aao Manayein Jashn-E-Mohabbat’ (, with Kishore Kumar), ‘Pardesiya Yeh Sach Hai Piya’ (, with Kishore Kumar, 1979), ‘Baahon Mein Tere Masti Ke Phere’ (, with Rafi, 1979), and ‘Tujh Sang Preet Lagayi Sajna’ (, with Kishore, 1983). These songs have endured for over thirty-five years. Ravindra Jain was never a major commercial composer and mostly worked on smaller-budget films. But when given the chance with films like and , he brought out his finest melodies for Lata, giving us beautiful songs like ‘Ek Radha Ek Meera Donon Ne Shyam Ko Chaha’. We must also remember some of his other special Lata songs, like the solo ‘Dil Mein Tujhe Bithake’ and the duets ‘Tota Maina Ki Kahani’ (both from ) and ‘Ek Daal Par Tota Bole’ (). Many may frown at the name Bappi Lahiri, but it has been proven time and again that composers don't create an era; the era creates composers. Bappi Lahiri was a product of his time. Anyone with a fundamental understanding of melody is naturally drawn to sweetness in tunes. Bappi gave far more songs to Asha Bhosle, as her voice was better suited to the nature of films he worked on. However, the one song ‘Nainon Mein Sapna’ makes the Lata-Bappi combination unforgettable. Composer Uttam Singh had Lata sing for a few big films like , but he will forever be remembered for one song: ‘Mere Pyar Ki Umar Ho Itni Sanam’ (, with Manmohan Singh, 1988). Similarly, Jugal Kishore-Tilak Raj will be remembered for the single beautiful duet ‘Janam Janam Ka Saath Hai Tumhara Hamara’ (, with Rafi, 1982). Yash Chopra passed away in 2012. His last memorable film was ‘Veer-Zaara’ (2004). The film's songs were created using melodies that the late composer Madan Mohan had left behind. Lata's voice featured in 9 of the 11 songs. It was impossible for this blend of the past and present to match the glory of the past, yet songs like ‘Yeh Hum Aa Gaye Hain Kahan’ and ‘Aisa Des Hai Mera’ became memorable. Even then, the touch of age—seventy-five years—was not apparent in Lata's voice. It is as if the seven notes of music themselves took birth on Earth in the form of 'Lata' and gave us a glimpse of divinity in music. It is the great fortune of this land that the sun of talent of Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle, and Hridaynath Mangeshkar rose in Maharashtra. She was a deity to the generation before us, and she remained a deity for us. Generations will change, new music will be made, and new generations will love it. But in the world of film music, the old never dies; it only grows more vibrant with time. This, then, has been an attempt to remind everyone that while we cherish the vial of the golden age in our hearts, the fragrance of Lata's later songs also perfumes the air all around us.

By Shrikant Bojewar

Senior Editor and Author 9892419267 (This article is the translated version of the original article

उत्तरकाळातली

लता

 written by

Prof. Dr. Shrikant Bojewar

published in the Sahitya Chaprak Diwali Ank 2025 ) https://youtu.be/Vt_eMDYciE8