It is said she recorded more songs than the Beatles and the Rolling Stones combined. But unlike Paul and Mick, Lata Mangeshkar sang them in 36 languages. Her legendary status was not just achieved through her prolific output or global reach, impressive as these were. Her art bridged cultural divides too – bringing together India and Pakistan when politicians failed.
Lata Mangeshkar, who died last week aged 92, was Bollywood royalty. Her state funeral was live streamed. Hindu holy men chanted alongside a song from her 1970 film Pagla Kahi Ka (Such a Fool) – “Tum mujhe yun bhula na pao ge, jab kabhi bhi suno ge geet meray” (“You will not be able to forget me, whenever you hear my songs”) while India’s greatest film star, Shah Rukh Khan, who is Muslim, held his hands apart for prayer.
Lata was an Indian Hindu whose legacy is personal for me, a Muslim of Pakistani heritage. I grew up in Glasgow listening to her songs alongside my mum and dad, who arrived in the UK in 1952 and 1969 respectively. We listened on the old cassette player and watched movies through VHS video players. These were the melodies that shaped the many layers to my identity. Two movies in particular left a deep mark.
Pakeezah (1972) is the story of a courtesan who falls in love and battles the constraints of society. It starts when a handsome stranger enters Sahib Jaan’s train compartment and leaves a note saying she has beautiful feet and shouldn’t let them touch the ground. The movie circles on the reality of this Muslim courtesan, whose life is to dance before strangers.
Grace and poise
The vocals by Lata add grace and poise to the inimitable Meena Kumari in the movie. These songs made a deep impression on me at a young age as their themes were in many ways radical and challenging. They made me understand religion through the difficult realities of different lives. One in particular, Inhi Logon Ne Le Lina Dupatta Mera (It is these people who have taken my shawl) is laden with innuendos which reference the shackles that constrain gender and sexuality in traditional societies.
These singers bridged divides that were raw and painful yet they each sang patriotic songs to rouse the emotions of Pakistanis and Indians
Mughal-E-Azam is a 1960 movie that retells the story of the Mughal prince Salim and his lover Anarkali, the court dancer. The song Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya (If you love, why fear?) includes the line “Parda nahi jab koi khuda se, bando se parda karna kya” (“When there is nothing hidden between us and God, why hide from mere people?”) Mudhubala (1933-1969) who plays Anarkali, points a knife to Salim’s father, Emperor Akbar, as she dances to this song in defiance that she is willing to die for this love. The strength and conviction of Anarkali speaks truth to power.
And so Lata bridged another divide. Songs like these became gay anthems. They are often mimed in queer circles, especially in drag queen chambers. This includes replicating the elaborate outfits that the heroines wore in the movies – draped in heavy embroidery and jewellery from top to toe.
Traumatic experience
The partition of India and Pakistan in 1947 (and later between Pakistan and Bangladesh) was also a traumatic experience for those of us exiled in the UK. Bollywood has helped ease this pain. Madam Noor Jehan (1926-2000) became the voice of Pakistan and was a dear friend of Lata, who spoke of how she learned the correct pronunciation of Urdu words from the older star. The praise was returned. The women telephoned each other every day after partition.
These singers bridged divides that were raw and painful yet they each sang patriotic songs to rouse the emotions of Pakistanis and Indians. To this day, they can fuel nationalism on either side. In the days after her death, I saw many posts claiming Lata was a part of a right-wing political movement. But others posted an interview where she was asked who she admired most in the music industry. She named two Pakistani singers: Mehdi Hasan (1927-2012), the renowned ghazal singer, and Madam Noor Jehan.
Alternative expressions
In a society where marriage and family is the epitome of achievement, these women sang songs that were irreverent, risque and offered alternative expressions. Madam Noor Jehan married several times, had children and then became a powerful single mother. She spoke of giving up on men in order to marry her country. In India, Lata never married, saying she was wedded to her career and her country.
The difficulties they both endured continue to inspire younger generations. They still resonate with Indians and Pakistanis at home and abroad. I see Lata and Madam Noor Jehan as icons who speak to many sides of my identity. Some of my closest friends here in Cork are Indian and there is many a party where we sing along joyously to the music of both Lata and Madam Noor Jehan. And so we heal the wounds partition gave us.
Amanullah De Sondy is head of study of religions department and senior lecturer in contemporary Islam at University College Cork.