Review of the book Talat Mahmood: The Complete Biography

This is not a book that should be read quickly. Every page has a melody that calls; it’s as if Talat Mahmood’s seductive voice is whispering in your ear. At that point, you have to put down the book and listen to the tunes. And what songs they are: the hilarious Dil mein sama gaye sanam, the poignant Ay mere dil kahin aur chal from Daag, the duet with Lata in Sangdil, and all the incredible numbers before, during, and after.

 

The book will unlock windows of memory for people who adore the music from Hindi movies from the 1950s to the 1970s, taking them back to a period when they sang along as the melodies played on the radio. Additionally, this book might act as a guide for a generation that, in its own way, is searching for melody in classic songs. In under three and a half minutes, it captures the brilliance of Talat, the composer, lyricist, and vocalist.

Thus, by writing this book, Sahar Zaman has greatly contributed to the history of Indian cinema. It is proof of her intense love and respect for her grandfather, as well as her careful investigation of details, turning points, and events in his life. A book about a performer who influenced a whole generation of ghazal singers and whose style and vocals remain unmatched even now finding no ready publisher, is a sad indictment on our times. Zaman should be commended for taking the initiative to publish this clear labor of love.

The early chapters of the book, which include little-known details about the singer’s parents, are very accessible. It’s noteworthy to note that Talat’s father was a talented singer as well. During his torturous month-long boat trips to Turkey as part of the Indian Medical Mission, he would often serenade his fellow travelers while caring for Ottoman War troops who needed medical attention. Mansoor Mahmood’s voice had a lovely tremolo and was tremulous, much like his son’s. The fact that elder Mahmood was forewarned by none other than Begum Akhtar, a singer, about his son’s propensity for a life in movies and how it would mislead him, is equally compelling.

The book has a conversational tone, with the author often sharing personal anecdotes and addressing readers directly. There are many different kinds of stories: some about movies, others about specific songs, and some personal, like the singer’s romance and marriage. To give us the story, Zaman selects songs like Phir wohi shaam, Tasveer banata hoon, Sham-e-gham ki kasam, and Tasveer nahin banti.

The fact that Talat, who first gained recognition as a vocalist in Bengal under the stage name Tapan Kumar, also performed for Malayalam and Assamese movies and blasted out sometimes vulgar songs for Bhojpuri movies, may surprise readers. With ease, the vocalist navigated both realms while portraying Shyama, Nutan, and Suraiya in movies like Sone ki Chidiya and Mirza Ghalib.

Zaman also shares an insight inside his enormous fan base. One such is a letter of affection from a seventies-era admirer who wrote to her to express her admiration for the artist after reading the book. The author also discusses Talat’s kindness, mentioning how he handed Mukesh—who was at the time in terrible financial shape—all of Madhumati’s songs. In addition, he battled for playback vocalist royalties.

In an effort to preserve Talat’s memory, the author’s theater plays are highlighted in the latter chapters. For a while now, people have been watching the programs. It is hoped that readers from the author’s own generation as well as those from the golden age would discover the book and experience the same spell that the singer’s voice put on listeners all those years ago.