Music, when soft voices die, vibrates in memory

It happens far more to very successful people. When their careers are on the ascendant, people know everything about them—fame, money, lifestyle, talent, and personal life. But when their rising star begins to sink, they have to suffer the humiliation of painful anonymity.

- Pavan K Varma

Politics, art, culture, business, or a profession—this is, for human beings, a universal truth. But, perhaps, it is most evident in the world of films, where success is meteoric, overwhelming, and heady; but equally, the descent can be precipitate, cruel, and sudden.

In this context, the lives of two of the most iconic music composers of Bollywood come to mind: R.D. Burman (1939–94) and O.P. Nayyar (1926–2007). Burman, popularly known as Pancham, had immense talent and impeccable musical lineage. The son of the great composer, S.D. Burman, he also received training from the sarod genius Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and the tabla maestro Samta Prasad. From the 1960s to the late 1980s, he ruled the musical world of Mumbai cinema, composing music for a record 331 films, including the chartbuster, Sholay (1975). It was Teesri Manzil (1966) that catapulted him to the top, highlighting his ability to bring a new zing of creative experimentation and talent in the fairly predictable world of film music until then.