08 March,2021 07:07 AM IST | Mumbai | The Hitlist Team
Alokananda Dasgupta, Jasleen Royal and Kausar Munir
Intricate and impassioned as they are, conversations on music composition with Alokananda Dasgupta are delightful for every interviewer. A far cry from the superficial accounts of the art, Bengali filmmaker Buddhadeb Dasgupta's daughter always elucidates her answers with those engrossing anecdotes of the concerned project that enhanced her final creative piece. It is this obsession with the craft that, she admits, is an essential to enjoy a long career, especially in a field that, much like many others, is attuned to the needs of men.
"It may sound like a cliche, but, keep at it," says Dasgupta, adding, "You must have a [deep] desire to keep at it, despite disillusionment, and intimidations, and know why you wish to express yourself. The truth is that scoring can get monotonous, because one is watching and re-watching [the film] over and over again. So, only if something is up my alley am I usually kicked about composing for it. I will make something that I want to hear as a viewer, and hence take my role as an audience and consumer of that project, very seriously."
Following her acclaimed work in Sacred Games with shows like Leila, Breathe: Into the Shadows, and the fast-paced Ak vs Ak, Dasgupta doesn't shy away from admitting that gender discrimination, while not exclusive to the film industry, is something she encounters owing to the authority afforded to her as music director. "Sometimes, I am egged on to analyse why certain incidents happen, and I understand that people hesitate to accept instructions from a female [musician], who doesn't look old either. I've chosen to wear horse-blinders for several issues. Things may upset people, but what can I do? It is my job, I have to talk to them and tell them what has to be done."
Admitting that gender bias isn't the concern that initially perturbed her about a probable career as music composer, Dasgupta says she had other battles to wage, including her rather introverted nature. "I am not a people person, and prefer spending time with [my pets]. But, I learnt on the job, and could see the loop holes and inequalities. It wasn't shocking [to see discrimination since such instances] subtly make way into every woman's life. For me, it started with insecurities due to simple things like being unable to participate in conversation with my male contemporaries [on topics like technology, which they can freely indulged in]." Patriarchy, she says, is so deep-seated in society that "even a filmmaker making a [pro-women] documentary is likely to come home and do something that [can be classified] as patriarchal behaviour."
For 29-year-old Jasleen Royal, singe-songwriter-composer, an increase in representation of women's perspectives will offer a breath of fresh air in the music industry, and some respite from the barrage of "songs on infidelity" that have been topping the charts. "I would love to see female writers hold more key positions in the industry than they do. The industry welcomes both genders, and only considers the work that one can create. But, given that women started working late, it will take time for them to catch up," says the singer-songwriter, adding that focussing on the creative piece, instead of the artiste who is creating it, has enabled her to develop a good ear for music.
"Women have different perspectives on matters, but let's acknowledge that several women-oriented films have been beautifully penned by [male writers like] Gulzar sa'ab too. So, it's essential to be influenced by good art alone."
Royal, with films like Baar Baar Dekho and Gully Boy on her resume, says despite all odds, it is her ability to create work that she loves, that has repeatedly borne fruit. "I believe that only if I love what I put out are there more chances of others loving it too."
Mirroring Dasgupta's opinion, lyricist Kausar Munir says a fair share of the path to acclaim in the music industry is spent in oblivion. "You are shooting in the dark because there will be no appreciation [for a long time]. You need to spend time, and effort [in enhancing] your skills, and have faith, which is what makes the process difficult. There are several sociological factors [that deter] women from exploring the field. You need women in production arts, but as far as writing is concerned, their representation is abysmal. It could be because the writing process is disordered and fluid. There is no clear path to success, so you have to be obsessed with your work. It is a rigorous path with little guarantee of return. Women want something more promising," says Munir, adding that though she stumbled upon the career by happenstance, she was able to pave her path by exploring various avenues of writing, instead of sticking to lyrics-writing, alone.
Munir counts herself among the fortunate for two reasons - to begin with, she claims to have not faced gender discrimination, as we know it. Also, on the rare occasion that she did, she could afford to walk out of the project, without worrying about her bread and butter. However, aware that her appointment on any project is owing to a skill-set that only she possesses, Munir celebrates factors that set her apart. Responding to questions on drivers of success, she says, "I know that there is something I can deliver, which is why I am appointed for the job. If I try to be an Amitabh [Bhattacharya] or Irshad [Kamil], I am being unfair to myself. I have recognised what makes me unique, and why I am appointed for projects. So recognising your ability, and nurturing it will take you where you want to be."
Admitting that the "system isn't conducive for women", Munir says several practices would be termed unprofessional by aspiring singers. "If I am called for a project at 12 midnight, I can go. But many women cannot. They may find it unprofessional, which it is. But this system is tuned against women. I am not even going into the [sexual] harassment aspect, which is prevalent. To women, I would say, don't be afraid to fail, and tread new paths."
