Song 8, version II: 21 Mar 2013
Asha Bhosle sings the same song this time as a duet with Mahendra Kapoor, that clarion call of a voice we remember from our childhood Mahabharat days when every Sunday all streets would be totally empty and traffic would come to a standstill as Mahendra Kapoor bellowed, "MAAAHAAAABHAAAAARAT" and woke us up. His voice is definitely the voice of a farmer from Punjab or a soldier making merry with peers on some frontier with a drink in his white enamelware mug!
But Asha balances his rustic timbre with her infectious charm. The mood is somewhat sombre here. This time there is another pretty, mysterious damsel who graces the scene-of course there has to be. The club crooner is sporting enough to not even ask the hunk as to who is she, where is she, what the plot is at the other end. She is expected to give explanations for every alliance-fake or real- of hers but she gracefully accepts that the hero might after all have a love of his life too, a love that nurtures him or one that bothers him. The club crooner selflessly lends him a shoulder to cry on, sympathising, counselling, offering succour and advice as to how to make it work. Even if it breaks her own heart completely to know that he belongs to someone else, she smiles through the evening, spreading sunshine and cheer. The tears of course would be for a private moment alone, far from the limelight of glitzy events and sparkling champagne moments.....
Asha Bhosle sings the same song this time as a duet with Mahendra Kapoor, that clarion call of a voice we remember from our childhood Mahabharat days when every Sunday all streets would be totally empty and traffic would come to a standstill as Mahendra Kapoor bellowed, "MAAAHAAAABHAAAAARAT" and woke us up. His voice is definitely the voice of a farmer from Punjab or a soldier making merry with peers on some frontier with a drink in his white enamelware mug!
But Asha balances his rustic timbre with her infectious charm. The mood is somewhat sombre here. This time there is another pretty, mysterious damsel who graces the scene-of course there has to be. The club crooner is sporting enough to not even ask the hunk as to who is she, where is she, what the plot is at the other end. She is expected to give explanations for every alliance-fake or real- of hers but she gracefully accepts that the hero might after all have a love of his life too, a love that nurtures him or one that bothers him. The club crooner selflessly lends him a shoulder to cry on, sympathising, counselling, offering succour and advice as to how to make it work. Even if it breaks her own heart completely to know that he belongs to someone else, she smiles through the evening, spreading sunshine and cheer. The tears of course would be for a private moment alone, far from the limelight of glitzy events and sparkling champagne moments.....
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