The Karta of Melody

Almost 40 years back, I had appeared for my first job interview. One of the Board members asked if I was related to SD Burman. I said, “Well, we belong to the same state of Tripura”, and vaguely remembered some of my relatives referring to him as Kaka/Dada at times. The Board latched on to this and further inquired if music ran in my veins. Once again, I shook and nodded my head simultaneously, hoping to satisfy their curiosity without risking the inevitable next question. Not convinced either way, the Board asked me to sing a few lines, which I politely declined, fearing any such rash step on my part would end the interview prematurely. I flunked the singing test by default but passed the interview!

The recent month of October was celebrated, as usual, by most Indians with a number of festivals that followed one after the other. For many music lovers, October is also special because the irresistible Sachin Dev Burman, also known as SD Burman or Dada Burman, probably the most loved of music directors of the Hindi film industry, was born on October 1 and died on October 31, sixty-nine years apart.

He was born in Comilla, now a part of Bangladesh. His father, Nawadweepchandra Dev Burman, was the son of Ishan Chandra Mankiya, Maharaja of the princely state of Tripura. This earned Dada Burman the title of Karta, like all other princes of the royal family. Destiny could well have taken Sachin Karta on a different journey far from his beloved music, much to our loss. How and why the Prince of Tripura became a wandering minstrel to finally reign over a distant and very different kingdom would be an intriguing story mixed with a heady cocktail of palace intrigues and the yearning to follow one’s heart. Not too many details are known except that the path he did take turned out to be one of the most glittering ones in the world of Indian cinema music.

It is said that his father was not happy with the exclusive school for the Tripuri royals in Agartala, which pampered more than educated, and therefore admitted him into a normal school in Comilla. After completing school and obtaining his bachelor’s degree from the local Victoria College in 1924, he went to Calcutta for his master’s degree. It was here that S.D. felt the first tugs at his heartstrings. He realized that music was what he wanted to pursue and abandoned his M.A. studies. He found his mentors in KC Dey, Bhismadev Chhattopadhya, Khalifa Badal Khan, and Ustad Allaudin Khan. Soon, he settled down to a steady career in the world of Bengali folk music, attending musical conferences, teaching, and also working in the local radio station. It was in Calcutta where he met his student, Meera Dasgupta, granddaughter of Rai Bahadur Kamalnath Dasgupta of Dhaka. Music bonded them as soul partners, too, and they got married in 1938. This event was perhaps the turning point in his life. It is said that the rumoured unhappiness of the Tripura royal family with his marriage to a commoner upset him, and he never went back to his native state, seemingly severing all ties!

The journey to distant Bombay thus also perhaps began on the impetus of a personal decision, and he never did look back as Bombay became home for him and his family. There are stories of his initial disenchantment with the lights of Bollywood, which threatened to pull him back to Calcutta. Fortunately, he was persuaded to change his mind, and the rest, as they say, is history!

The aroma of rural Bengal blended into the sound of his music, transporting you to a landscape of dusty paths, slowly moving bullock carts, and shy brides. It is said that he never allowed any actor to lip-sync the songs he himself sung, and thus these always appeared as background scores like a sutradhar’s tale, connecting events. As the protagonists stood at different tides of time facing loss and dilemma, his frail and unique voice would sing of life’s ups and downs, occasionally warning them, as in Wahan Kaun Hai Tera Jayega Kahan, or gently encouraging them to move on in life with Puri Hogi Teri Aradhana…Kahey Ko Roye. All of us have asked ourselves or have been asked these questions at different times of our lives.

There is a story that when he wanted Kishore Kumar to sing Dukhi Man Mere (Funtoosh), everyone warned him that such a melancholic song was not Kishore Da’s cup of tea, as he was known for his comedic roles and funny songs. But he persevered with him. It’s no coincidence that he breathed his last while composing Badi Sooni Sooni Hai (Mili), another deeply poignant rendition by the singer.

Though he was perhaps the only film music director to win the Sahitya Akademi Award, Bollywood and perhaps even the establishment did not quite do justice to his talent and his legacy. A man from Tripura, born in a place claimed by three different countries at three different times of history, married to a Bengali, and who ruled Indian film music for years from the other extreme of the subcontinent, Sachin Karta was truly a pan-Indian icon. Looking at his films, it’s a surprise that he won only two Filmfare Awards—for Taxi Driver and Abhiman. He was nominated but did not win for classics like Guide, Aradhana, and Sujata!

Recently, an older relative recounted a story about meeting him as a young schoolboy when the maestro had visited Shillong to meet his niece. He spoke of how fondly and knowledgeably Sachin Karta reminisced of Tripura—remembering the palace, the old Rabindra Bhawan, and the road on which it was built, and the people he had grown up with as a child. It was surprising that he had such warm memories of a place he had left years ago and never visited again. One would have expected bitterness in the reminiscences. But there was only genuine love and fondness in his voice.

Perhaps the heartstrings had continued to pull, but like a true prince, he kept the hurt or bitterness, if any, inside him and let his songs tell the stories of loss, love, and longing!

Views expressed are personal