Music

Satyajit Ray used to say that background music in cinema is redundant. It is essentially to highlight a mood, an action or a state of mind, which otherwise may not be evident to the audience. A well made film, or a well told story does not need to garb itself in falsettos and ‘Chopin’s and ‘Malhar’s. It carries itself on its own.

So, let us, for a minute try to imagine, cinema without its background score.

Think of Pather Panchali without the sitar and flute of Ravishankar as Apu and Durga explore the black and white countryside of Bengal. Imagine, Psycho’s shower scene without the frantic and scary strokes of the Viola playing in the background. Think of Audrey Hepburn walking the streets of New York in breakfast at Tiffany’s without the lilting ‘moon river’ blending in. Picture Godfather, devoid of the haunting tune of Nino Rota. Imagine The Dark Night, bereft of the rapid and understated score by Zimmermann, as the Joker goes on a rampage in Gotham City. Imagine Casablanca, ET, Life is Beautiful, without their background music!

And think of the Hindi movies, and its songs! All the wonderful and shady and sad and foot-tapping and melancholic and outrageous and funny and f***ing-brilliant songs! Rajesh Khanna driving besides Sharmila Tagore (who is sitting in a train) singing Mere sapno ki rani (never mind how she can hear it over the clanky rails and the gushing steam engine)! Amitabh Bachhan getting drunk on Rekha and bhaang as he sings Rang Barse in his deep timbre on the first day of spring. Madhuri Dixit dancing on a stage, the audience going crazy, erupting into joyous chorus of ek do teen. Dilip Kumar sporting a 5 day stubble, looking positively heart-broken singing Yeh mera deewanapan. And then, imagine all of that without the song and music.

Impossible, right?

Yes. It would be like being in a deaf world. Or worse, a world that is only filled with dry conversations, everyday noises, dull din and incessant clamour.

But that is what the real world sounds like, doesn’t it?

I beg to differ.

I think the world is full of music. The real world. It plays in one’s head. Or on one’s i-pod, or by the roadside shop, perhaps in the car while one’s driving, but mostly in one’s head.

Let me explain myself.

Say, you’re travelling in a train. It’s sparsely crowded. You find a corner near the door. The compartment is noisy. The train leaves the station. You plug in your i-pod, and switch on your music. And THEN, the world changes. The crammed compartment starts seeming distant. The whiff of the summer air hits your face. In the afternoon sun, the old city starts looking familiar and beautiful. You start noticing the train tracks outside, razor sharp and glinting dangerously. You see them merge and divulge out with the beat of the music. You see the wooden handles, swaying to the rhythm. And you feel that this is how it was designed to be. This music was scored for this moment; for you to see the world in that rhythm. Like a background score.

Or imagine yourself sitting in a pub alone. After the first couple of drinks, the music becomes louder. It drowns out the din of the crowd. You start noticing things around you. You watch the couple sitting at the corner table, enjoying their glass of red, playing with each others fingers. You notice the middle aged man, sitting alone at the desk, his glass of scotch half full, engrossed in his thoughts. You watch the bartender, swift hands, pouring out another glass of beer for his next customer. And that is when the next song comes up. It’s Billy Joel’s Piano man. And immediately, you feel that you are watching a movie. Or probably you are in it. And everything that is happening, is happening, because that’s how the background score was planned.

But then again, sometimes, music does the exact opposite thing. It takes you away from your immediate, your present and transports you to another place and time.

Because a song is never, only a song. It is a piece of memory.

Memories of people who have known, memories of cities you have been to, memories of forlorn afternoons, memories of wet monsoon nights, memories of childhood, memories of your first love, memories of your first heartbreak, memories of friends, memories of the wildest parties, memories of cosy mornings, memories of anger, of hatred, of jealousy, sadness, lust, joy and everything, everything else. Each song has a story. And each time it plays, it brings back that part of our life back to us. So, while walking the streets of London, a song can take you back to your terrace in Calcutta... while eating sandwich in the office cafeteria, the song playing on the speakers can remind you of the first time you met her.

Satyajit Ray used to say that background music in cinema is redundant. It is essentially to highlight a mood, an action or a state of mind, which otherwise may not be evident to the audience.

But what do you do when the highs and lows of your life are strung to the notes of music. What if every action, every move, every memory, every story that you have had, has a tune, a song, a music attached to it?

Well, I guess, then you just put on your shoes and keep walking. And as you walk, you hum your favourite tune. Sometimes out aloud, at other times in your head.