Kaagaz ki kashti, Review: Surfing oceans of melody

It’s a tough call. What do you call a biopic on the life and times of singer-composer, late Jagjit Singh? Producer-director Brahmanand S. Siingh settles for Kaagaz ki kashti (Paperboat), deriving the title from one of Jagjit’s most popular numbers, a nazm (an Urdu poetry form), and adding a sub-heading, Jagjit Singh Come Alive. Though he sang all kinds of songs in a career spanning five decades, nazm was not what he was known for. It was ghazal (the more commonly sung Urdu poetry form) that typified Jagjit. But then, Kaagaz ki kashti is such an attractive title! And the film is such an endearing film.

Siingh has collected archival footage, interviewed more than maybe two dozen persons who were associated with Jagjit, used stock shots and got four family members to speak, mainly Jagjit’s wife and singing partner for many years, Chitra. There is no voice-over and there are no title-cards and graphics, only captions identifying the speakers. With all this, he could not go wrong, unless the footage came to the hands of an editor who was not up to the task. On the contrary, in Jabeen Merchant, he has a clipper who has obviously worked painstakingly over months, probably years.

I have seen the film in its raw, first cut format some two years ago, and it is so much improved and striking now. The nuances are better captured, the silences are more eloquent and the cuts vary almost perfectly with every mood, sometimes as match-cuts, other times as hanging loose cuts, to let the shot sink-in. As in any documentary where you have hundreds of hours of footage, there is no script and the choices are usually about how much to leave out, this one has been through the grind. When the choices work, you have a good product. And have they worked here! This is compelling documentary format at its peak.

Some of the likely personalities on screen would be Gulzar, with whom Jagjit collaborated on that masterful TV series Mirza Ghalib, Ghulam Ali, Pankaj Udhas, Anup Jalota, Geeta Prem, college-time mate Subhash Ghai, Kuldeep Singh, who gave him a playback break, all the musicians, students Ghansham Vaswani, Ashok Khosla, Vinod Sehgal, Talat Aziz (scored music for debut album), recordist Daman Sood, Jagjit’s two brothers, his wife’s grandson (she had a daughter from her first marriage), friends, a racing bookie (he was an avid horse-racing enthusiast and a horse-owner) and so on. But some of the most insightful contributions come from poets Vaseem Barelvi, Farhat Shehzad and Rana Sehri, film-maker Mahesh Bhatt, film and theatre personality Salim Arif and singer Hansraj Hans.

Like all biopics, this documentary is happy and sad, funny and quirky in turns. Jagjit was known for his sense of humour, and that has been captured well. But in the end, you walk out with mixed feelings, more melancholia than elation. Jagjit lost his only child Vivek to a road accident and Monica, Chitra and Debu Dutta’s daughter, committed suicide when he was abroad. Chitra never sang after Vivek’s passing away and went deep into depression. But Jagjit bounced back. He had a premonition that he would die at 69. When that did not happen, he started working with a vengeance, “I’ll do 70 concerts in my 70th year.” He did celebrate his 70th birthday* but did not live to see his 71st.

All your favourite ghazals are there, including ‘Saraktee jaye hae ruqhsey naqaab ahista ahista’, ‘Tumko dekha to yeh qhayaal aayaa,’ and ‘Hazaaron qhvahishen aisee key har qhvahish pey dam nikley.’ There is footage from Mirza Ghalib, Aap ki Adalat (anchored by Rajat Sharma) and Jeena Isee Ka Naam Hai (anchored by Farooque Sheikh), from various shows and long clips from his last recorded interview by Shamit Tandon (music director). He suffered brain hæmorrhage the next day after this incomplete interview and never recovered. Born on 08 February 1941, he died on 10 October 2011.

Though he was trained under Ustaad Jamaal Khan, his genius was beyond and above all the training the revered teacher might have imparted. And not to be left behind, he even recorded India’s first big 32 track digital album called Beyond Time (good possible title for the film?). Surprisingly, his ambition, and his plans for Chitra, remained largely unrealised: to become playback singers. They sang the odd song and Jagjit even scored the music for a handful of feature films, but they were all forgettable. No wonder Brahmanand does not dwell on this chapter at all! Also, Jagjit appeared in a couple of films in walk-on parts, during his struggle days, which may not be really germane to the issue.

There is a strong sense of commitment that is palpable throughout the film. There is also a sense of ruthlessness when it comes to wielding the scissors. But both the beginnings and the endings are indulgent. There are three false beginnings and three false endings, which I shall not describe, in the interest of avoiding spoilers. How I wish they had spelt it Kaaghaz and used a different font for the K here! Brahmanand is in love with his work, and proud of it. You might recall his raved earlier biopic on Rahul Dev Burman, called Pancham Unmixed. All of that shows on screen as well as off-screen. Is that bad? Let’s stick to what film proper has to offer. A large part of the credit of the shape that Kaagaz ki kashti has acquired goes to Associate Director Tanvi Jain.

Did Jagjit demean the ghazal by introducing violins, guitars and later keyboards? Or did he merely decorate the kalaam (poetry) of the past and present masters with the newest jewellery on offer? The jury will remain out on this contentious subject, though the critics might not have found place in a eulogy of this nature. Meanwhile, don’t miss the film. Lay back and let it all sink in, ‘Ahista, ahista’(slowly)!

Rating: ****

Trailer: https://youtu.be/-m-LQhoReH0

*In 2009, Najma Merchant and Atul Churamani, her boss at SaReGaMa, called me to meet Jagjit in the company’s Juhu office. Jagjit was sitting there, lolling casually. Atul and Najmajee told me that SaReGaMa was planning to release a 55-track, 4-CD compilation to commemorate Jagjit’s 70th birthday, and I was to write the script for the booklet which would be included inside the box-packing, gift style, as was the norm. I had compered 5-6 shows of Jagjit and knew him since the early 70s, so we were not strangers. However, Jagjit stared at me and said in his characteristic humour, “He is going to write the booklet? But he is an Urduwala and has compèred some of my shows in Urdu. How will he write in English?” After a moment’s silence, Atul and Najmajee told him that I had been writing in English for decades and was currently writing the booklets for all the company’s releases. Jagjit laughed, “Well, he knows all there is to know about me, so let him get on with it! You don’t need me to guide him.” The script was then written without any inputs from Jagjit. The album is in a series called Legends and was released to co-incide with his 70th birthday party.