WHEN SHREYA GHOSHAL SANG LATA MANGESHKAR An evening of Cinema, Song, and Memory ~ Manish Modi
Manish Modi
WHEN SHREYA GHOSHAL SANG LATA MANGESHKAR
An evening of Cinema, Song, and Memory
~ Manish Modi
Yesterday evening, thanks to the generosity of a dear friend, I had the privilege of attending a truly memorable concert by Shreya Ghoshal at the Jio World Garden in BKC, Mumbai. Titled Letters to Lata Didi, the event was conceived as a tribute to the immortal Lata Mangeshkar.
What took place over the next two and a half hours was nothing short of magical. Shreya sang from around 7:30 pm until 10 pm, remaining on stage the entire time without a break. Her singing was flawless, with not a single note slipping. She rendered the songs with remarkable precision and emotional depth. Her singing reminded us why she is regarded as one of the finest singers of our time. In many ways, Shreya Ghoshal is a very creditable Sachin Tendulkar to Lata Mangeshkar’s Don Bradman: a worthy successor in a field defined by an almost superhuman standard.
Lata Mangeshkar’s songs, quite apart from her exemplary singing and incredibly accurate pronunciation, have become evocative of India and the wider culture of the subcontinent. So deeply is she intertwined with Hindi cinema that we often forget that she sang for nearly eight decades. There are countless songs she recorded when the heroine on screen was young and at her peak. Later, those same heroines grew older, retired, or began playing the roles of mother and grandmother. But Lata Didi’s voice remained eternally youthful.
We are all so steeped in the imagery of Hindi cinema that the moment a familiar song begins, an entire visual world springs to life. When Shreya sang “Main Tere Ishq Mein Mar Na Jaun Kahin” from the film Loafer, the image that immediately came to mind was that of the young and incredibly handsome Dharmendra in his brown jacket and rather ridiculous checked trousers, with the cute Mumtaz trying to seduce him on screen. Such is the power of Lata Mangeshkar’s voice that it does not merely recall a song; it resurrects an entire moment of cinema.
Two other songs brought back equally vivid memories. When Shreya sang the title track from Satyam Shivam Sundaram, I could almost see the stunningly beautiful and graceful Zeenat Aman on screen. And when she sang “Tere Bina Jiya Jaye Na” from Ghar, the image of Rekha in one of her finest on-screen songs came instantly to mind.
Indeed, most situations in life can be expressed eloquently through Hindi film songs. Whether it is romance, seduction, anger, humour, comedy, tragedy, suspense, bhakti (devotion), shakti (strength), or shaurya (valour), Hindi cinema songs capture all nine rasas beautifully. Singers like Lata Mangeshkar turned the film song into an art form. Often the song acquired a life of its own, sometimes ensuring a film’s success, and at other times becoming phenomenally popular even when the film itself faded into obscurity.
What does Lata Mangeshkar mean to me personally? She represents classy songs, brilliant singing, classic lyrics, and a standard of performance and consistency that remained unmatched for eight or nine decades. She also stood for decorum in public life: a quiet elegance in dress, dignity in conduct, and a lifelong pursuit of perfection.
I remember my one brief conversation with her. Someone had called on her behalf to ask about good books in Hindi and Urdu poetry. Since the gentleman was speaking on her behalf, I asked whether he might kindly allow me to speak with her directly. It was my lucky day. She came on the line immediately and spoke in that world-famous soft voice.
Like an idiot, I attempted to speak to her in Marathi, but after a few sentences, I found myself completely tongue-tied. I am not usually easily fazed and consider myself a fairly fluent and enthusiastic conversationalist. But that is only when I speak in my strongest languages: Hindi, English, and Urdu. In Gujarati, Marathi, or Punjabi, I can manage only practical matters like the price of a book, shipping details, and the like. I cannot really express my zehni kaifiyat, my deeper inner feelings, in those languages.
Returning to the concert, the selection of songs was thoughtfully curated. Each piece seemed to tell a story, and Shreya would gently introduce many of them with short reflections or anecdotes. These were interwoven with brief recorded tributes and remarks from notable personalities such as Harsha Bhogle, Sachin Tendulkar, Anandji Virji Shah, Nitin Mukesh, and many others, adding context and warmth to the evening.
Shreya was joined by two excellent co-singers. Javed Ali performed the duets originally sung by Muhammed Rafi, while Kinjal Mukherjee sang the duets associated with Mukesh and Kishor Kumar. Both performed beautifully and blended seamlessly into the programme.
We were fortunate to have excellent seats, and the sound system was superb. Every note travelled with perfect clarity across the open venue. The entire production, from the orchestration to the pacing of the evening, was executed with great care.
It was, simply, an experience of a lifetime. One of those rare musical evenings that I will cherish for many years to come. On a Sunday morning, looking back, I realise that the concert was not merely a performance. It was a reminder of how deeply the voice of Lata Mangeshkar is woven into the emotional memory of our lives. Through Shreya Ghoshal's voice, those memories came alive once again.
Manish Modi is a spiritual seeker, writer, translator, editor, community historian, publisher, public speaker, and enthusiastic promoter of Prakrit and Sanskrit. He is dedicated to sharing Jain wisdom in ways that truly connect with and inspire the modern world.
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