Lata’s legacy

The dangers of appreciating a talented yet somewhat problematic figure have become all the more palpable in the digital realm. In the cut-throat world of social media, the slightest transgressions can attract a negative reaction and incite a bitter war of words. It took the death of Indian playback singer Lata Mangeshkar to once again remind us of this cold fact.

Hours after Mangeshkar passed away at Mumbai’s Breach Candy Hospital, Twitter was abuzz with heartfelt eulogies for ‘Lata Didi’. Amid the stream of condolence messages, a microscopic section of India’s Twitterati mourned her death with cynicism instead of tears. The negative remarks against the singer were in poor taste and should have been avoided on the day of her death. Even so, the sheer reluctance to accept her flawed political beliefs served as an anxious rebuttal of our times.

Mangeshkar’s close affiliation with Vinayak Damodar Savarkar – the Indian politician who conceived the ‘Hindutva’ ideology – served as the kindling that sparked a flame of hatred. Outraged by the playback singer’s willingness to align herself with a regressive, right-wing ideology, social media users declared her a ‘Sanghi’ whose death didn’t warrant a dignified farewell message.

This isn’t the first time the late singer’s political views have become the subject of a controversy. In November 2012, Mangeshkar penned a glowing tribute following the death of Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray. Another polarising figure in the history of India’s alliance with the Right, Thackeray actively peddled anti-Muslim pogroms after the demolition of the Babri Masjid. Mangeshkar’s fans were shocked by her vociferous support for a fascist politician as her public image was believed to be antithetical to the Sangh’s ideology. Clad in a white ‘sari’, the singer possessed the rare gift of a mellifluous voice that enchanted millions of fans from all spheres of life. It was tough for many of them to stomach the fact that their beloved singer could defy egalitarian values by supporting a bigot.

The tweets from Mangeshkar’s detractors have inadvertently revived a long-standing debate over whether the personal controversies in an artist’s life can be separated from their body of work. Can we appreciate the talents of a creative personality who adheres to a set of problematic, if not altogether repugnant, values? There isn’t a fixed standard that determines if the cancel culture can apply to these situations. It is also difficult to develop a consensus on the matter without adopting a situation-specific approach that accounts for the factors that shape or break a person’s reputation.

Postmodern thinkers firmly advocate the belief that art is created by its spectators. By the same token, the audiences of a literary text and song ‘produce’ a work by ascribing meaning to it. As per this school of thought, the interpretation of art is believed to be the sole determinant involved in creating it. The creator of the work is, therefore, deemed a non-entity. He or she can be likened to a labourer who produces the art, but remains detached from the process of deciphering it.

While this line of thinking provides agency to audiences, it is rather naive to presume that the creator entirely takes a backseat. An artistic work reflects the creator’s sociocultural realities, and its sale inevitably reaps financial benefits for the artist who is engaged in the intricate process of creating it.

If viewed from this standpoint, any form of art remains indissolubly chained to its creator’s public and professional image. Efforts to distance a body of work from the values held by its artist will only invite a narrow interpretation of its scope and influence.

Be that as it may, Mangeshkar’s illustrious legacy has been spared the ruinous effects of a character assassination. Her work is strewn into the cultural zeitgeist of the Subcontinent, and continues to inspire fans and aspiring musicians. Her growing popularity, which is no prisoner to the tastes of a particular generation, seems to suggest that her songs have their own appeal that transcends the singer’s limited worldview.

This lends credence to the postmodern notions that diminish the role of the artist. Mangeshkar’s work has been etched into the social milieu of the Subcontinent. Over the decades, her songs have become the vessels that hold the rich memories of their audiences. When people listen to Mangeshkar’s ‘Aayega Aanewala’, they are transported back to the spooky black-and-white scene from ‘Mahal’ (1949) where Madhubala plays a ghost who haunts a mansion. Similarly, the upbeat rhythm of ‘Aaj phir jeenay ki tamanna hai’ has become the measure of the audience’s own imagination that has little to do with ‘Lata Didi’.

Even so, Mangeshkar stakes a claim towards her legacy as she consciously struggled to ensure that it was cultivated through fair means. Playback singers were once the pariahs of the film industry. Mangeshkar is believed to be the first to demand due recognition for them in film credits. She even sought royalties for music and better remuneration for her work – a difficult feat for women who have to navigate the demands of a male-dominated world. As a result, the late singer sought to ensure that she was duly compensated for her work and paved the way for others to safeguard their rights.

Concerns about who has a stronger claim on Mangeshkar’s legacy are aligned closely with how people choose to remember it. Fans have always found solace in her music, and will continue to infuse new meaning into it. In either case, her problematic political persuasions cannot obscure the effort that the singer made to ensure that her craft was respected.

The writer is a journalist and author. He tweets @TahaKehar and can be reached at: tahakehar2@gmail.com