The Man Behind The Music

I was already a fan when I met O.P. Nayyar — in typical filmi fashion. At aparty at Holiday Inn, a hotel in Juhu, I found him staring at me. I knew who hewas, but wondered why he was staring at me till he finally came up and told me Ireminded him of someone called Rashida he had known in Lahore. I was thrilledto get the opportunity to tritely tell him I was a huge fan of his music. Hesmiled and invited me to meet him. I took him up on that and, in the last 15years, had several occasions to meet and speak with him—the last being asrecently as the 16th of January 2007 when I called him in Hyderabad to wish himon his birthday. He assured me he had never been fitter, had never felt better,but asked, at 82, what could he look forward to?

Over the years, whenever I met him and referred to his music,  he’dalways say "I can’t believe I made these. I feel so completely away from itall ."  But whenever I took anyone to meet him to talk about hismusic—and this happened fairly often because he refused to meet people he didn’tknow—he would oblige. Several times I got conned by people who’d ask me tointroduce them to Nayyar sa’ab. A wannabe sycophant with starry expectationswanted OP to be part of his TV series, but OP refused. This man from the MumbaiTV industry finally requested me to use my good offices and bring OP to thestudio, and also to do the background research for the show for a fee. OP came,as he put it, "because you are asking me",  gave a charming liveinterview, but the man never paid up. OP said when I recounted this to him, "Peopleof his type are dotted all over the industry. They’re like pus boils—yehkya paise denge. in fakiron ko to hum daan dete hain!"

I loved his astringency. OP never minced words. Once he asked me to accompanyhim for a recording of Sa Re Ga Ma, the music show on Zee where several old timecomposers were present, and he kept me  in splits with such nuggets as "Weused to call this one Master Pedro because he stole all the Spanish or Mexicantunes, and that one was...", pointing to the various eminent personalitiesthere. It was hilarious and embarrassing, particularly as I knew all of themclosely.

Another time, an editor from Delhi who is also an MP, requested me, throughhis live-in girlfriend, to introduce him to OP. Again OP said he’d meet themonly if I came with them. I demurred as I’d have to go to Thane where he livedand take a day off from work. But OP was adamant. I told the editor’s girl Icouldn’t take a day off from college for this. So they decided to bribe me andasked me to do the interview as they just wanted to meet him. I agreed. Oncethere, the editor asked OP, "You composed some songs for Lata, didn’t you?Then why did you stop?"  Throughout the drive, this editor was willingto bet anything that his knowledge of music exceeded mine, so I was shocked whenhe asked OP such a foolish question. When they left, OP said succinctly, "Thatfunny man is your editor? How do they land such jobs… don’t they believe indoing any homework?" He had sized them up—"they’re living together aren’tthey?" His perspicacity at all times was both funny and amazing. That was OPstraight as a ramrod, both literally and figuratively.

When he spoke of Asha Bhosle, I’d turn beetroot red. He’d tell me so manyanecdotes of their time together But he never criticised Lata or ran her down— but you could never unearth the real reason for their not workingtogether. I’d egg him on with rumours I’d heard — he had called her [Lata]for a recording at his Famous Studio music room, she came, but was a little lateand he refused to allow her entry. OP heard me out but just refused to beprovoked into replying merely saying, "Her voice was too thin, my kind ofmusic required a more sensual fullbodied voice like Asha’s" I admired thefact that he had only praise for Lata though.

His face always shone and once I asked why and he replied, "I recite theGayatri mantra.. it is a very powerful mantra.". The story that OP’s earlierfavourites, Shamshad Begum and Geeta Dutt, were ignored by him when Asha startedsinging for him, always upset me. I am a huge fan of Geeta Dutt and I asked OPwhy he had dropped Geeta when she desperately needed money. She had even calledhim up and asked him why he was not using her voice any longer. OP replied, "Ashahad made it clear that she would be "everything" in my life and I was sobesotted by her that I just dropped everyone else. I do know that Geeta neededwork badly but I was in the grip of this relationship and I didn’t respond toher."

OP never tired of reiterating that he was an arrogant man. He was alsoextremely hot tempered. He loved the good things of life and was a giver, eventhough I can count instances on my fingers when he’d tell me, "See I don’tneed publicity. If people want to meet me and write about me, they must pay me."I’d see this as an expression of the fact that he probably didn’t have anincome coming in. But he’d also say that he got the highest amount of royaltyfrom HMV, so it was difficult to know what his exact financial position was inhis last days.

I’d see a wistful contradiction in him. When he’d speak to me, he’doften speak of being lonely, sensitive and misunderstood. This changed toarrogant, self made, and wilful when he was meeting others. This sense of self,this holding on to his dignity was another facet of him which made me wonder atthe façade he put up; the "I don’t give a damn for anyone"attitude, though he craved company. He was always conscious of the huge debt tothe Nakwa family, specially Raju the girl who looked after him for over adecade.

He was kind and magnanimous. I suffer from diabetes and a minor heartblockage and this worried him so much that he’d mix homeopathic medicines forme and command me to come and collect them from him. He’d worry about how topresent himself when I was taking anyone to meet him and for days before theevent he’d ring me up early in the morning and say, "I shall wear my suitand hat". If I said it wasn’t necessary to dress formally at home, he’dexplain why it was necessary and then suddenly relent and await us in hisgorgeous silk lungis and kurtas, and play the benign host.

But the name OP Nayyar is synonymous with the mostjoyous of all music ever heard. So let’s move from the man to his work, thoughboth are equally interesting. By his own admission, he had had no training inmusic at all, but he loved music, loved KL Saigal Ghulam Haider Shyam Sunder,Anil Biswas, RC Boral, Pankaj Mullick and ingested all he heard from them. Thisled him to believe that he could compose too. Living as he did inpre-independence Lahore, he got to see all the New Theatres films which werevery popular in those days when Hindi cinema was still young. He’d spend allhis time and money watching films, loafing at the cafes of Lahore and dreamingof making it big,

He sang because everyone sang those days and landed himself singingassignments on radio from the age of 8. His family, particularly his strictfather, made no bones about his dislike for the boy’s activities. Thisopposition at home made the boy even more stubborn and eager to prove himself.He managed to get a record of two of his compositions in the market. Peoplebegan to know him. He used the money to indulge his fancy for rich clothes,drinks, and women. Just as luck seemed to be favouring him, Partition tookplace. His family left Pakistan, but OP being stubborn, refused to go . He hopedthings would settle down and he’d be able to remain in his beloved Lahore, butfate decreed otherwise. He had to leave for India.

After a series of jobs — as music teacher, as radio host, as a singer onthe radio — he finally got a film to compose. But it flopped. Destiny thoughseemed to have a plan for him. His first three films as composer — Aasman,Baaz and Cham Chamacham — flopped before he got Guru Dutt’s AarPaar and this proved providential. Like the name, he decided it would be aaror paar for him after this, and sure enough, the film was a massive hitestablishing him at the top immediately. This was in 1954, and from then onwardtill 1960 he rose higher and higher.

It must be emphasised that OP Nayyar’s rise had nothing to do with playingpolitics or kowtowing to the powers that be. He rose to the top on his ownterms. He refused to work with established lyricists as he considered peoplelike Sahir Ludhianvi very arrogant, he chose unknown names to write for him . Hethrew out Rafi for not being punctual and replaced him with Mahendra Kapoor,till Rafi apologised to him. He never used Lata Mangeshkar who was at the top.He broke every industry norm and succeeded too.

Slowly though, newcomers came in, Asha left him, his arrogance made producersturn to others just to prove him wrong and his work in the industry dwindled. Itwas the industry's loss completely. In 1972,  he gave the fabulous ’chainse hum ko kabhi aapne jeene na diyaa.". Again in the 1990s, he tried tocompose for Nischay and Zid, but nothing happened. He lived a lifeof almost total oblivion till the coming of the satellite channels on TV saw himback in the circuit. His voice was heard again nostalgically. But he hadalternate professions for himself viz Homeopathy and Astrology. He had predictedhis own exile and death. And he remained to the end—truly arrogant. He died ashe lived—a journeyman with his bags packed and ready to leave whenever thecall came.

The truth is that he didn’t compose, he had no training. He just tuned intothe soul and drew out magical melodies that connected at once with hislisteners. His songs lack effort — they are spontaneous expressions of gayabandon, of joyous moments of romance; of the thrills and frills of life—ofthe fine embroidery on a dress, not the dress itself; or a trimming on a jacketnot the heavy jacket but the gossamer light trimming that makes all thedifference.

Born on 16th January 1926 he was an emphatic earth sign, He loved all thegood things life offered. Is it at all surprising that he passed away as he waslaughing at the programme Laughter Challenge on TV?