Prasoon on song

The adman and popular poet-lyricist takes you inside the creative process of some of his greatest songs

Some years ago, a conversation with Ehsaan Noorani, celebrated music director in the Indian film industry, veered towards the journey of composing songs. "Every song," he said, "has a story to tell. Every note has a tale behind it."

One can't help but recall the conversation while reading Prasoon Joshi's Sunshine Lanes. It is a collection of his songs - many of them blockbusters in their own right - and poems, which have been translated into English to attract a larger reader base. Also fascinating are the "behind-the-scene" glimpses and stories of what went into writing many of these songs.
 
A prolific and sensitive poet-lyricist of our times, Mr Joshi, who is also executive chairperson and chief executive of McCann Worldgroup, India, and president, South Asia, has been writing lyrics for Hindi films, receiving both critical acclaim and longevity. That's tough, especially given that songs today have a shelf life that solely depends on box-office returns. Those that succeed are - as many concerned voices will tell you - often tacky, tasteless and crude (consider: "…main toh tandoori murgi hoon yaar, gatkhale saiyan alcohol se" - I'm like the tandoori chicken you can gulp down with alcohol, from Dabangg 2).

Given that the "wallet is democratising taste", it becomes especially important, then, to study Mr Joshi's body of work, which has successfully maintained its own "emotional temperature". Sunshine Lanes is insightful, especially for those who want to study the thoughts that went into penning down the lyrics of songs that many of us hum so enthusiastically. Additionally, the preface offers a quick glimpse into Mr Joshi's journey, from conventional science and MBA student to advertising professional and, later, lyricist of film songs. There are interesting anecdotes pointing to his keen interest in writing at an early age; as a child, Mr Joshi created his own library of "hand bound books" titled Prasoon Bal Pustakalaya. Later, the author confesses to a period of confusion in life; as a youngster, his interest was in art and culture, but he followed his parents' wishes and took the "conventional path of formal education".

Particularly noteworthy are observations that Mr Joshi makes of romance (referred to as a "given situation" in our films) and the changes that the sentiment has witnessed through the decades, especially through film song writing. So, from projecting through lyrics what couldn't be shown on screen or directly included in the dialogue (blatant physical expressions such as Chandan sa badan, Chaudavin ka chand, Choo lene do nazuk honthon ko are interesting examples of this), the author notices the "definite decline" in worshipping the lover. One of Mr Joshi's gems, Rehna tu, from Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra's Delhi 6, essentially exemplifies the change and talks about simply accepting the "imperfect" lover, with all the quirks and flaws ("tujhe badalna na chahoon, ratti bhar bhi sanam" - I wouldn't want to change you, not even one bit").

For anyone familiar with Mr Joshi's work, the book has a beat, a rhythm, in that it is impossible to read it without mentally humming tunes from some of his best work. In this nuanced book, Mr Joshi talks candidly about his disappointment when some of his work failed to be shown on the big screen (Haan, maine chookar dekha hai from Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Black, for instance); songs that went unnoticed when films failed to make a mark; lyrics that didn't find as much acceptance as he thought they would (Kala bandar from Delhi 6). Other stories abound: how his first official composition (Prakash Jha's Aarakshan) came to him while he was in the shower; how there was a divided house on the word paathshala (school) in one of Rang De Basanti's songs; how the title track of the same film was written like a food recipe…

Interestingly, Mr Joshi's own raga is one of hope, a somewhat difficult sentiment to grasp given its scarcity in the tumultuous, fast-paced times in which we live. So, even Lukka chhuppi, a song filmed on a mother who has lost her young son in the movie Rang De Basanti, takes the lyrical route of a playful hide-and-seek game, with the son even assuring that he is fine to hide in "the beautiful land" despite the loneliness that creeps in.

One just wishes that Mr Joshi's stories about the lyrics were slightly more in-depth and sometimes - despite the challenges that language can offer - the translations, which haven't been done by Mr Joshi, a little better. The translation of the last paragraph of the song Khalbali is missing; "roobaroo", which one would have thought meant "face-to-face", is translated as "intimate"; "…garam gunguni dhoop se, baat ki hai maine" would have worked better as, "with this lukewarm sunshine, I've had conversations" instead of "I've had a word".

There are other minor quibbles. There's no index of songs (frustrating), and there are minor editing issues (singer Bombay Jayshree is called Mumbai Jayshree). Also, the reader has no idea if this is Mr Joshi's complete work; if not, what are the criteria for these songs and poems to make it to the book?

On the whole, however, just like his lyrics and poems, Sunshine Lanes is an invitation. Go on, read it, you won't be disappointed. 

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SUNSHINE LANES: A POETIC JOURNEY
Prasoon Joshi
Rupa Publications
267 pages; Rs 495