He was a singer who wanted to be a wrestler. Or a wrestler who was destined to become a singer. Be that as it may, the story of Prabhash Chandra Dey’s flowering into Manna Dey is nothing short of fascinating.
Bengal used to have a curious phenomenon. Many of its famous wrestlers used to sing, and sing quite well. Wrestling was a favourite indulgence of Bengali young men at one point. Youth icons like Swami Vivekananda and Subhash Chandra Bose propagated the “sound mind in a sound body” adage, and gymnasiums were found in all corners of Calcutta. One of the more well-known pehelwans (“palowan” in Bangla) was the legendary Gobar Pehelwan. His name may not be known today, and even evoke a few laughs, but in the first decade of the 20th century, his name commanded veneration and respect. He was the first Indian to win a World Heavyweight Championship title in the United States. He stayed in the US for a few years, defeated an array of successful American wrestlers. Robert Ripley, the man who founded Ripley’s Believe It or Not! drew a cartoon of Gobar claiming that the man always won because he ate gold.
This superman Gobar was also a man of music. Not only was he well trained in Hindustani classical, he was also known to be quite adept at playing the Esraj. After he had won the west, Gobar came back to Calcutta and started his own akhada to train the next generation of pehelwans. This was the 1930s. A young boy used to come there to learn wrestling. Just like Gobar, he was also interested in both music and wrestling. The boy was named Prabodh. Prabodh Chandra Dey. Prabodh loved boxing and wrestling, he was good at both. He also loved kite fighting from his terrace. But alongside all this, learning music was very important, because it was a family tradition. His uncle Krishna Chandra Dey had a great influence on Prabodh. He was a star, and the world used to know him as K.C. Dey, musician, composer, singer and actor. K.C. Dey was visually impaired. A mishap during his childhood had taken away his eyesight, but he sang like a lark. Blessed with the voice of the gods, and in an age without mics and loudspeakers, K.C. managed to reach the ears of the man sitting in the last row of the auditorium. “Mat bhool musafir” from Devdas (1936) and “Teri gathri mein laga chor musafir jaag zara” from Dhoop Chhaon (1935) were huge hits of that era. He was also one of S.D. Burman’s first mentors. With an uncle this illustrious, Prabodh couldn’t afford to not take music seriously. What also helped his cause was that he was a natural. At a very early age, he had a polished singing voice.
Prabodh was also friends with Gobar’s son. The singing lessons and bouts of wrestling at the gymnasium continued simultaneously. While he practised singing diligently, Prabodh actually harboured dreams of making it big as a wrestler one day. He wanted to be one of the best ever, much like his idol the great Gobar pehelwan. But his eyesight played spoilsport. He was prescribed glasses at a young age, and that created a problem while wrestling. But passion kept him going, and he even reached the finals of All Bengal Wresting competition.
Krishnanagar Palace was hosting a night-long musical soiree. These jalsas were a norm at palaces and mansions, and they usually ran all night long. K.C. Dey and Prabodh were in attendance, and Prabodh was to accompany his uncle’s singing on the tanpura. The hall was filled with connoisseurs of music. The Raja of Krishnanagar himself was an ardent music devotee. Also in attendance were some of the greatest stars of Indian music: Bhishmadeb Chattopadhyay, R.C. Boral, Gyanendraprasad Goswami, and S.D. Burman himself. The function began with a performance by Dada Burman. K.C. was the last to get on stage. His velvet voice wafted through the hall, as his nephew strummed the tanpura. The audience went into raptures. As the intoxication deepened, the first rays of the morning broke in. K.C. started singing a kirtan, and Prabodh stopped playing. He was so taken in by his uncle’s rendition of the devotional tune, that he just forgot what he was supposed. Someone pushed him from the back, “Why did you stop, Mana?” Mana was Prabodh’s daak naam, his nickname. This experience completely transformed Prabodh aka Mana. If music can effect people so much, that’s what he wanted to devote his life to.
The wrestling bouts continued, but there was a small mishap that changed everything. One morning while wrestling, his glasses were shattered. And that wasn’t all. Some pieces of the glass pierced through the skin below his eye. If it had been a few inches above, it would have been a disaster. That did it for him. His wrestling days were over.
Prabodh aka “Mana” focused ever more on learning music from his uncle. Wrestling was gone and music was finally the centre of his existence, as it would continue to be for the rest of his life. He went to Scottish Church College, where he and his friends would break into music whenever there was an off period. They’d beat the desk and Mana sang his favourite S.D. Burman’s songs. Unbeknownst to him, Mana’s friends entered him in an inter-college music fest. On learning about this, Mana was a little nervous. It was one thing to play the tanpura to his uncle’s performances. But to sing in front of a live audience was a whole other thing. Also his uncle won’t like it. But his friends refused to give in. The entire lot of them went to meet the great K.C. Dey to seek his permission. But K.C. sided with his nephew. Mana wasn’t ready yet. Still undaunted, the friends showed him a letter from the college principal. There was no option left. K.C. had to relent.
The contest was just two months away. Mana kept practising twice a day. Worked hard and worked meticulously. Come D-day, Mana came first in every category besides Thumri and Modern Songs. He was chosen second in both these categories. After this, he aced the inter-college music competition for two years back to back. Mana a.k.a Prabodh Chandra Dey was taking baby steps toward the world of music.
By now even uncle K.C. Dey had realised that Mana’s future was in music. But film music wasn’t seen as a profession worthy of respect. Despite the fact that K.C. was one of the most revered names in music of the time, the other members of the family refused to let Mana get into film music. But K.C. had seen the writing on the wall. He allowed Mana to assist him on a Bengali film. Prabodh Chandra Dey became the second assistant to K.C. Dey. Simultaneously, Mana started singing on radio. In the early 40s, K.C. went to Bombay with his nephew. For better schooling in classical music, he took Mana to Ustad Aman Ali Khan. The Ustad had no idea about K.C.’s stardom, or maybe he was in a foul temper that day. When K.C. asked if he would teach classical music to his nephew, Ustad ji snapped, “Why should I?” K.C. urged that he listen to the boy just once. Ustad agreed, and Mana aka Prabodh started singing in Raag Yaman. Gradually, the expression on the maestro’s face changed. As soon as the boy had stopped singing, Ustad Aman Ali Khan asked young Prabodh aka Mana, what are the different forms of Yaman Raag? On replying accurately, the Ustad asked him to start from the next day, sharp at 9 PM.
Sometime later. The year was 1942. A film called Tamanna was being made under the banner of Lakshmi Productions. K.C. Dey was the music director. He made Prabodh sing a duet with a new girl. The “new girl” was Suraiya, and the song was ‘Jaago ayi usha’. But a proper solo playback opportunity came with Ram Rajya (1943). Prabodh was not too fond of his formal name. Whenever anyone asked, he would tell them his nickname ‘Mana’. Mana Dey. But the very Bengali ‘Mana’ became ‘Manna’ in Bambaiyya Hindi. And it began.
Amborish is a National Film Award winning writer, biographer and film historian.
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