[Reader-list] Indian Idle, Prashant Pandey, Bollywood Music

[Prashant Pandey]

Indian Idol in Kolkota



Shoma Mitra is a 24 year old Indian Idol contestant from Calcutta. Now
before telling her story let me tell you what I am doing in Calcutta.

A friend of mine working for a production house in Bombay informs me
about the Calcutta auditions of Indian Idol. I am quite fascinated by
this city anyways.
Though my job as a researcher working on the music industry does not
really demand me to travel to far flung areas yet this visit seems
quite significant.

I have seen Saregama and Indian Idol auditions in Bombay, POPSTARS
auditions in Delhi, Idol auditions in Lucknow and a couple of other
auditions here and there.

Why Calcutta?

Ok maybe because I have never been there.

Maybe because my musical sensibilities have suffered a lot at the
previous places due the sheer cacophony of so many singers/non-singers
and actors models and chintoos masquerading as singers.

Maybe because I am fed up of Bombay and need to get out.

Maybe because my mother told me that Calcutta is full of singers and musicians.
She warns me against trying my chance at these auditions. Should you
decide to participate you will be pitted against the best of the best
singers in the country.
Mummy continues," Rooprekha, Arpita, Aditi Paul… all of them are Bengalis."
I tell her that let me go I will see. I have not cleared the Bombay
auditions. "Lets see if they allow me." I tell her about the
Strugglers & Jugglers series that I am working on. She says "music me
waha har koi juggler hai" (in music everybody is a juggler in
Calcutta). "Don't forget that I am writing a book", I tell her.
She says, "You can write your book in Bombay why go to Calcutta…What's
the big deal I have written two books sitting in my room"

"But mummy you have written poems"


24th Oct. Howrah 11 am

Howrah station is a big mess. I am now used to a Bombay way of life.
Howrah gives me a shock. The first thing that I have to do here is to
get a back journey ticket as I do not anybody in Calcutta and I don't
want to be stuck here.
The first thing that I notice about this city is Bangla language.
People do not like talking in any other language. So as a Hindi-
English speaker I feel as if I am banging my head against a wall…
Pankaj Udhas fades in from the 80s….



Deewaro se mil kar rona accha lagta hai
Hum bhi pagal ho jainge aisa lagta hai

Then I have an imported back-pack so I look like a very "hard-core
tourist". (Rhymes with "hard-core terrorist") This adds to my existing
problems. Howrah station has a battalion of touts who indulge in never
ending guerilla warfare.
Shady men appear from nowhere and whisper "BEER- BEER""WHISKY-WHISKY"
or reservation ticket…. "poora confirm kara ke dega"

I have spent 6 years in delhi. I have been to Haridwar-Risikesh many times.
So I have learnt a golden rule for these situations. It says-

"A tout is a monkey"

Do not make any eye contact else you will have a tough time warding them off.
So when a tout approaches, become expressionless. Do not look into his eyes.
Look nowhere.

Its funny. The only person I know in Calcutta is Mark Campbell. He too
does nt live here. He lives in Scotland. His family is vacationing in
his ancestral house located in Stal kart lane, Salkia in howrah. (Mark
is half Indian). I am dependent on Juno and Babua, his cousins, for
any directions and stuff.

However my living arrangements are in a guest house located in
Calcutta. Howrah. Calcutta Calcutta. Howrah.

Hahaha. This is the first lesson that you learn here. Calcutta and
Howrah are two different things separated by the mighty Howrah bridge
now known as Rabindro shetu.. and its not the Bombay style east-west
thing.( say going to Andheri east from Andheri west by crossing a
schizophrenia inducing subway) Crossing the Howrah bridge is a feat
especially if you take 2 by 2 a city bus. You see some amazing stunts,
arbitrary seating arrangements, a ticket that resembles a pregnancy
indicator test strip.

After an hour I am in my guest house located in Ranikuthi. By now
everybody in my khaandan spread all over U.P, rest of India and UK
knows that I am in Calcutta. My mom has told that he went away to
write a chapter on Calcutta for his book.

What book? What chapter? Hello.
"The struggling singers of Calcutta", is it what its going to be?


After "settlement" in the guest house I take a longish sleep within the confines
Of a macchardani(mosquito net ?)

25th Oct.

In Calcutta the taxi-drivers are thieves. They do not like to show
rate cards and start to speak in Bengali if you argue. The transport
system is a big mess.

I am going to meet a lady whose daughter is giving Indian idol auditions.
I take a taxi from Rabindra Sadan to lake land country club located on
the Kona express highway. It's a metered taxi but the taxi wallah
takes "sharing" passengers for a destination called Santaragacchi(
Rana , another wannabe singers lives near this area).
Taxiwallah tells me that for these people- it's sharing and for me- its meter.

I pay around 70 rupees. They pay 10 rupees each.

I say in interior monologue- "accha beta chootiya bana rahe ho"

Neither am rich nor am I a fool. I am none of these. I protest. I take
my switched off cell phone…. wave it at the taxiwallah and tell him "
I am going to call the police"

He takes 10 rupees. What pisses me off is that none of the passengers-
middle aged office going junta say anything to the taxiwallah. They
are busy reading Bengali newspaper. Imagine a similar situation in
Delhi. All the bhaisahabs and bhehenjis… the respectable chaddas and
chawlas of Delhi would have smacked this guy down but this is kolkata
and I am being cheated like a foreigner here.

10 am.

Lake land country club is on the highway far from Howrah as well as Calcutta.

Its built around a small lake. On the other side of the lake there is
a tea shop and some 10 meters away lays a makeshift bank made for
washing clothes and bathing.

I meet Shoma there… a misty eyed beautiful girl of my age who has been
learning music for 3 years. She is there with her mom.
I notice that each contestant is accompanied by parents.

Welcome to the Calcutta auditions of Indian idol.




The competition is hot. But don't miss this huge family picnic that it seems.

I see parents carrying huge tiffin boxes. Water bottles… juice bottles
and fruit packets. Some of them are sitting on bedsheets spread on
both sides of the mud road leading to the club's main entrance.
Infact I see later that a separate tent has been made by the
organizers for the parents to sit and wait for their small/grown-up
kids to come out.

I tell this to Shoma's mother who says, " yaha ka parent log bahut
karta hai" ( here parents support their kids a lot).

She recalls an incident when she sat for 6 hours just to serve lunch
to Shoma as she was giving an exam….."I think it was in Delhi", all
the parents were surprised when they saw all the food that I was
carrying.

What are you carrying now?

Dahi…bhaat….aamlait(omlette)…macchi(.fish
curry)….apples…jhaal-moody(no fun intended), …achaar…kaju…kishmish…..

She gives me jhaal- moody to eat. Shoma is inside giving her auditions.

Jhaal-moody is a kind of a mixture namkeen. There are several versions
and avatars of mixtures. In Calcutta they call it jhaal-moody. In
Delhi if you are drinking its referred to as "chakhna". In Faizabad,
my hometown its called
"Laiya-namkeen". My brother tells me that in UK it's popular as "Bombay mix"

Shoma 's mom explains me the virtues of Jhaal moody while its almost 1 pm.

She is getting impatient like all the other parents. She is worried if
she falls ill inside would there be a doctor as she has not been
eating well since two-three days.
She has spent a lot of time with her teacher.
Teacher?
Uska guruji? (Her music teacher)
He has prepared for her 4 songs that is singing today.

I tell her not to take any tension. I tell her a very famous Bombay aphorism
which has shades of Zen.

"Tension lene ka nahi…….dene ka"

(Don't take tension upon urself …make other people tense by your acts)

She has a motherly smile all the time yet she can not hide her dismay.

"Her father does not know about all this. He does not want shuba to
pursue a career in music. Its me who supports her. Once she makes
it…her life will be made." "Rooprekha ka Zindagi ban gaya."( Rooprekha
banerjee, the winner of Fame Gurukul)

She tells me that Shoma has cleared C.A intermediate. She is a B.com
from City College.

If she does not make it… then?

Then she will sit for bank P.O.

Tell her to go for fame gurukul.

Will it happen again?

Of course

Yes you are from Bombay you know a lot.

The she asks my surname….my education…my job….etc. she wants to know
if I know people in the channel. Or if I know Sonu Nigam.

Again I am in a fix. I am a researcher. Should I be interviewed by my
unsuspecting respondents?

I tell her anyways that I do not Sonu Sir personally but I have been
to his house.

Does he live alone?
No… he has a very big apartment and he lives with his parents.

Shoma 's mom knows a lot about playback singers. She has heard lot of
gossip about Sonu Nigam.

That ?? "

That he lives alone….and lot of women chase him all the time……..she
says hesitatingly

No….I protest strongly…

I tell her about Sonu Nigams' life as I know it. I tell her that he
gets up at 3.30 in morning for yoga. He is very religious. Respects
his mother and father a lot.
Work is worship for him. He can record 10 songs in a day.

She can not believe that Sonu Nigam records 10 songs a day.


I tell her that Ben, his manager told me all this. I tell her that
behind big stars there are so many people helping them do what they do
best.

Now a couple of people have joined us. Everybody is looking at me in a
new light- I am from Bombay and I know so many things about Sonu Nigam
and I am here to talk to the participants.

Why?

Because "he is on a music scholarship", a lady tells her husband in bangla…
Now everybody is taking my Bombay number and address.
Pradip, a tabla palyer who is escorting his cousin says, "Why don't
you give auditions"
I gave it in Bombay "
Select hua ?
No….
What did you sing?
Now there are around 10 people looking at me.
I sang this……
I start singing…..a bandish in raag Mia Ki Todi.
"Langar ka kariya jin maro
more angwa lag ja re"

When I finish a lady says "bhalo "… everybody liked my song and thinks
that I should have made it…this makes me a bit sad. But I say that
it's a competition and there are so many singers. They have to choose
150 from each city.

Ohh………….

People again start khusur-phusur in Bengali. Perhaps it meant – "this is how
One should take rejection"

Its 4 pm now and crowd of NOT selected is coming out big time. There
is lot of mayhem at the gate.

I see two young men arguing with the guards. One of them has a food packet.
All I gather is that they want to pass it on to their brother who is inside.
It's a heated exchange and I hear words like " amanush" " humanity"
Duty". One of the men says last two sentences in English…

"This guy is a bastard…. Get lost do your duty somewhere else". He
looks at me and says in English, "Ridiculous… he is behaving like a
king. We will see him tomorrow."
Locals have been watching this. One of them urges the man to say the
last sentence in bangla as they couldn't follow it. The guard is
shying away now after been shouted at in English. Everybody calls him.
The young man says that same thing in bangla and to my surprise
everybody claps. The guard melts away. Another one comes from
somewhere and takes the food packet inside.


Sun is going down. Shoma's mom is still waiting.

I am now chatting with a group which has two singers from Bombay.
Both of them have missed the Bombay auditions. Now they are feeling
uneasy here. The competition is tough. Parminder, a wannabe pop-star
continuously curses the kolkata people and the city. He has spent one
miserable day here.

Shoma comes out. She is not smiling. Ok. No problem. She has not been
selected. She had sung "baho me chale aaoo" then she was asked to sing
a faster peppy number so she sang, " Dhoom Machale" .
It's a great relief to see her not crying or complaining unlike so many.
Here people are very emotional. Rejected candidates burst out into
impromptu speeches against the channel. Some faint. Some of them are
so bitter that you should not even look at them.

Sun has gone down. Shoma, her mom and I , three of us have come to the
main road. Shoma's mom draws a very detailed address on a chit and
gives it to me. I also have shoma's mobile number in case I get lost.
Before parting, aunty's last words are, " taratalla se auto le lena" (
take an auto from Taratalla)


26th Oct.

I reach Shoma's place at 1 pm. She is not there. She is at her music class.
I play her harmonium for a while then I start feeling sleepy-I had a
heavy round of refreshments. Aunty is cooking continuously……… god
knows what.
I sleep on the couch without taking my shoes off. When I get up its 3
pm. I see Shoma sitting in front of me. She is not looking at me. She
is watching India-Srilanka one day.

She says," You will take tea or lunch".

When it comes to lunch. I tell them that I will not eat "murgi"(chicken).

Why?, aunty looks very worried.

Bcoz I am a veg.

Oh.. but u eat anda( eggs)

Yes.

You are pundit na

Yes.

5 min later my head is down -I am eating. There is a dish called
patal. (parwal ki sabji), curd, two-three more curries, pakoras,
pickles, papad, bhat etc etc…
Both the ladies watch me as I eat. Aunty tells me not to mix everything.

As soon as aunty leaves I mix everything… sweet curd….pickles…crushed
papad…pakoras….bhat…curries…. Shoma is alarmed at this sight.

She says " tum kaise khata hai" ( Is this the way to eat?)

After lunch I am half-asleep. The rice has done its trick. Here the
rice has a very different taste….it has a flavour……unlike the packet
rice given by my deliveryman in bombay. In Bombay whatever I eat
doesn't taste anything. It means nothing. In Calcutta, food has an
address, a history and a story.

Shoma's father is a homeopathy medicine supplier and is currently on a
trip to my hometown.Faizabad.
"Good he is not here….both of you can sing as loud as you want to." aunty says.

Shoma starts to sing on her harmonium. She plays harmonium rather
meticulously and with a sense of purpose unlike me. Her teacher has
written for her, scores for several songs. I can see she has had a
more structured music education. She maintains a copy and neatly
writes date/day for each sitting. My teacher, Murtaza Mustafa would
never write music score of a film song for me.
Shoma is not learning classical. She is learning light music. So there
is lot of focus on film songs etc.
Shoma wants to know everything about how I learn…where I go for my
lessons…how much fees I am paying and so on.
This lasts for some half an hour.
Shoma has a sweet voice and she is very suureeli (one who sings
perfect notes). But she makes her voice shrill whenever she talks to
her young maid.
Shoma is irritated as I am still half-asleep. We have a feedback
session where I tell her what I feel about her singing.

Shoma 's feedback is

Do not play harmonium with your shoes on.
Do not eat pickles and curd.

This disappoints me as I was looking for a more analytical feedback.

So far we have played on harmonium 6-7 songs.
Then I start to sing in raag yemen( also known as yaman, Usatd Hafeez
Ahmed Khan sahib told me its yemen as it of Iranian origin.)
Shoma is impressed with my copying ability as I try to sing a Ustad
Ahmed Hussain Mohd. Hussain's ghazal…trying to copy it ditto… as it is
in the cassette.

Before leaving we have short chat about films. Shoma said that she
would have loved to take me out for a Bengali film.
I say "next time….But there should be subtitles."


"Why? You do not understand bangla at all. "

No… "

6 pm. Same day.

My train is at 10 pm and I have to meet a Calcutta based budding music
director Soumen Chatterjee who is Marks' cousin. (Mark Campbell, the
Scottish guy who I mentioned about in the beginning).

My train is from Howrah and Soumen aka Babua lives in Stal Kart lane in Salkia.
I keep forgetting places in Calcutta. I landed in a big soup when I
confused Taratalla with Dharamtalla.

"Stal kart" sounds like a mix of Stalin and Wall Mart but my rickshaw
wallahs knows the house very well.

It's a huge house and my eyes are fixed on a black wooden bed that's
150 year old. I have never seen such a beautiful bed in my life.
Images from Charulata…Chokher Bali and Devdas flash in quick
succession.

I don't have much time so after greetings and gobbling up sweets I am
sampling Soumens' tune-bank from his Yamaha keyboard.
Bespectacled Soumen is wearing a shirt and a necker and looks far from
a music director.
When he begins to play its quite something. He has a very good
knowledge of Hollywood films and Indian as well as western music. The
good thing is that he has done "types" of songs in typical Bombay
style.

So there is a Mohabbatein type of a Jatin-Lalit song…. then a Govinda
kind of a tapori song.

I really like the tapori composition that Soumen has done. I tell him
that he must come to Bombay and try his luck. I am happy that he has
some 550 tunes.
I tell him that in a film there are 5-6 songs so by this rate he can
do around 100 films. As I say this the rapport between us touches
great heights. Jokes apart. Take my word…he can any day give any
Bambaiya composer a run for his money.

Soumen has another talent. He is a story/ scriptwriter. He tells me
about some of his ideas with the "customary caution".
He says, " Godown me maal bahut hai abhi showroom me lagaya nahi hai"

(I have lot of stuff in the godown….its yet to make it to the showroom.)


It's a good one…good enough to keep me good spirits for the 36 hours
journey back to Bombay.