Music appreciation in our country, for that matter anywhere, normally turns out to be subjective. In very stray cases has the discussion drifted in the domain of objectivity and the definitive. A fine example of the latter would be the acknowledgement of composing skills of Salil Choudhury by singers ranging from Yesudas to Lata Mangeshkar, from arrangers Sebastian to Alokenath Dey. All of them have cited Salil as the greatest guru among composers among Indian film music directors. Even .P. Nayyar, a composer who rarely claims to be an admirer of any peer, has said that he is a fan of Salil Choudhury.

What has been the special Salil effect that has made him earn laurels from the best of his peers in the industry? To quote an oft-used analogy, if composers of his time created tunes, Salil crafted symphonies of four and a half minutes. A Salil number was one-third prelude, one-third interlude, and the rest the basic tune. One example would be the number which made C. Ramachandra sit back and listen, Aaja re pardesi (Madhumati). Both the mukhda and antara of the number start from the unconventional note, Pancham, and end on the note Komal Nishad. This particular note is symbolic, as it creates an imagery of incompleteness, which hits you right in the belly. And like a deft arranger with his music wand, Salil uses the seventh chord as the basic melody, accentuating the feel of yearning. Wonder if a better blend of the Eastern melody and Western Classical arrangement had been conceived before in Hindi film music!

There is a visual aspect in Salil’s music. One can virtually see the song. A number like Aha, rimjhim ke yeh pyaare-pyaare geet liye (Usne Kaha Tha) paints the visage of pouring rain. The use of mandolin in the prelude, of the violin ensemble in the first and third antaras, and of the swaying voices of Lata and Talat in the second antara and the grand finale after the third antara, all create a feel of the physicality of rain as absorbed by our senses. If Aha, rimjhim illustrates torrential rain, sajna, barkha bahaar aayi (Parakh) is like a soft platter. The use of instruments, limited to a few, with Jairam Acharya’s sitar filling in between strains of Lata’s delicate rendition, elevates the number to a feel of restrained delight.

Salil was somebody who could spin poetry and music in one complete tapestry. For Bengali basic numbers, more often than not, he would first write his own lyrics and then set it to tune. He had come to Mumbai from Calcutta as a new wave poet and dramatist, apt at writing lyrics, playing various instruments like the flute, sarod and guitar, writing remarkable tunes and arranging the same in a way which had not been tried out before in traditional Bengali music. His erudition level mandated that he needed to imbibe the poetic content of a lyric to write a tune apt enough to match the sentiment. And it is here that he shared a unique tuning with poet Shailendra and to some extent with Rajendra Krishan and Yogesh.

Shailendra’s contribution to Salil’s works in Mumbai was manifold, primarily because Salil knew precious little Hindi. It was he who had cajoled Salil to compose Aja, re pardesi for Madhumati, based on a piece of music he had used in the climax of Jagte Raho/Ekdin Raatre, against the wishes of Bimal Roy. For a person who belonged primarily to the Raj Kapoor camp, Shailendra had the nerve to shepherd Raj Kapoor to request his pet composers Shankar-Jaikishen to pay a visit to the recording of Jagte Raho, to comprehend the recording style of the phenomenon who answered to the name Salil Choudhury.

Shailendra’s journey with Salil had begun from Salil’s very first Hindi film, Do Bigha Zamin. During the recording session of Dharti kahe pukaar ke, many musicians including Roshan had congregated to watch the young poet adroitly, using choral voices to create harmony and counterpoints, a composing style which was ushered in with Salil’s entry in Bollywood. It was almost a Ceasaresque Vini, Vidi, Vici.

In an era when dancing means acrobatics and grace has come down to catwalks; when melody is sulking in the dark and music weighed in decibels, it needs more than a passing effort to feel the pulse of an artiste like Salil Choudhury. Fed on a sumptuous diet of the remix and item numbers, barring a few die-hard devotees, the Salilophile is a dying breed.