The bonding went back a long way. In 1948 when Lataji was travelling by a local train for a recording with composer Anil Biswas she met Dilip Kumar for the first time. Biswas introduced Lataji as a very promising Maharashtrian singer.
To this introduction Dilip saab quipped bluntly, “But one can smell lentils and rice (dal-bhaat ki boo) in the Urdu pronunciation of Maharashtrian singers.” This remark stung Lataji. She decided to hire herself an Urdu coach and worked extra-hard on polishing her language.
To her dying day, Lataji was grateful to Dilip saab for the challenge. “Had he not made that remark I wouldn’t have been spurred into working on my Urdu. Our bonding spawned many decades,” she had revealed in the past.
In 1957 Dilip Kumar got the rare opportunity to sing with Lataji for Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Musafir. The exquisitely meditative melody was composed by Salil Chowdhary. For years and years, it was believed that Dilip saab stopped speaking to Lataji because she out-sang him in the duet as she rightly should have.
Even film historians, who should have known better, propagated this lie. But the truth is otherwise. The two never allowed their song to come in the way of their mutual affection and respect.
In 1973 when Lataji performed her first international concert at the Albert Hall, Dilip saab accompanied her and lavished the most exquisite praise on her on stage.
Yes, it is true that Lataji could not meet Dilip saab for many many years. But that was not because of the song. We will not go into the details on why Lataji was not allowed to meet her Bade bhai. Suffice it to say that they finally met after many years in 2013.
It was just like old times. By 2013 Dilip Kumar could barely recognize anyone. But he immediately recognized his Chhoti Behen.
Lataji had described every second of that meeting in a previous interaction. When she saw him she recited the first-half of their duet, “Laagi nahin chhote rama.”
“Chahe jiya jaye,” Dilip saab completed the line.