Take a trip down nostalgia lane, where Hindi film industry's biggest background singers Mukesh, Mohammed Rafi and Kishore Kumar have left an indelible mark on our musical psyche. Here, we look at Mukesh, the singer who actually wanted to be an actor My driver Akbar has my sympathies. Because of my eclectic tastes in music, the twenty-something man has to tune into Begum Akhtar one day and Pandit Paluskar the next; with maybe some instrumental music also thrown in the middle of our rather long commute. He tunes out at most times; but is also not above surreptitiously switching the CD player to FM radio mode if he feels my attention has wandered from the song. I let that be though I catch the latest Bollywood songs largely on TV promos; and they rarely leave me hankering to hear more. But the other day, there was a broad smile on Akbar's face when, on a whim, I listened to a stack of contemporary CDs left behind in the car by my daughter, Nikita. And it was quite enlightening. The full-of-fizz Pappu can't dance saala, I learnt, was sung by Anupama Deshpande, Benny Dayal, Blaze, Darshana, Mohd. Aslam, Tanvi and Satish Subramaniam. Sorry, WHO? <img alt="" src="/imagedata/2009/may/mukesh.jpg" align="right" border="0" />There were more revelations Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye was warbled by Amitosh Nagpal and Mika; and Masakali was crooned by Mohit Chauhan. I scanned through the names of the singers of recent hits they were mostly sung by barely familiar names like Neeraj Sreedhar, Monali, Shilpa Rao, Shruti Pathak etc. I am all for new talent but this was an influx, a defining moment in pop culture! Today, it seems, each time a new song is birthed, a new singer is born. I have to confess that if put to test, I wouldn't be able to distinguish the voice of Rashid Ali (Kabhie kabhie Aditi) from that of Javed Ali (Kehne ko jashn-e-bahara hai); and I couldn't possibly put a face to any of the above names. This barrage of new singers brought to mind the three voices that are embedded in my musical DNA Mohammed Rafi, Mukesh and Kishore Kumar. Three male singers, who enjoyed decades of singing superstardom. Unlike today's blazing comets, these singers surmounted their ups and downs, and remained relevant, most remarkably, right up to their deaths! Think about it in a peacock-feather-today-feather-duster-tomorrow film industry, this trium(ph)virate pulled off a remarkable feat. When Mukesh died in 1976, he had just scored a tremendous hit with Khayyam's immortal Kabhie kabhie mere dil mein khayal aata hai picturised on superstar du jour, Amitabh Bachchan. And it wasn't a stray success. Mukesh had also sung the title song of the year's other superhit film, Dus Numbri, for old ally Manoj Kumar.u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0 When Rafi passed away in 1980, he was enjoying a tremendous resurgence and had a string of hit songs ranging from the ethereally voiced Dard-e-dil (picturised in Karz on Rishi Kapoor, 30 years younger than Rafi) to Qurbani's flirtatiously forthright Kya dekhte ho? Soorat tumhari.u00a0 And just before Kishore left us rather unexpectedly in 1987, there had been some talk about him wanting to retire but the singer's workload remained heavy. He was the voice of Anil Kapoor serenading Sridevi with Kaate nahin katate yeh din yeh raat in Mr India that year; and he had already recorded Andheri raaton mein for Shahenshah, which was released the year after his death. Maybe, to their advantage, these three playback singers lived in different times; but I insist that their incredible staying power can at least be partly attributed to their talent, dedication, versatility and that rare ability to reinvent themselves for changing times. Mukesh came to Bollywood to be an actor who also sang, as was the custom of the day in 1941. He did three films as a hero opposite the likes of Nalini Jaywant and Sitara Devi (the latter had told me once "he was painfully shy and had rosy cheeks and lips") but found success only after he switched to playback singing in the latter half of the 1940s. Mukesh first caught the ear with Pehli Nazar's Dil jalta hai toh jalne de (even today people mistake it for a Saigal number) but the singer soon found his own groove. He soared to the top with four great solos from Andaaz (Tu kahe agar, Hum aaj kahin, Jhoom jhoom ke nacho aaj, Toote na dil toote na), which were incidentally picturised on Dilip Kumar while Rafi sang for Raj Kapoor! It seems ironical in retrospect because Mukesh soon became Raj Kapoor's ghost voice in the fifties after the blockbusters Barsaat and Awaara.u00a0 At a time when two nations, India and Russia, were dueting to Mukesh's Awaara hoon, he sidelined his playback singing career and went back to acting! Mark that down as one of the biggest blunders ever. Maybe Himesh Reshammiya should pay heed. Mukesh appeared as Suraiya's hero in Mashuqa (1953) and produced Anurag (1956) with Usha Kiron opposite him. At this stage, Mukesh was singing only for Raj Kapoor productions. And fortunately for him, his failure as a hero was offset by his Shri 420 (1955) chartbusters Mera joota hai Japani and Ramaiyya vattavaiya. Renouncing his acting aspirations, Mukesh clawed his way back to favour; and soon reteamed with Dilip in Madhumati and Yahudi; and won a permanent place in Raj Kapoor's films for outside producers (Sharda, Anari) as well as the RK banner. Later, Mukesh made a winning combination with Manoj Kumar and Feroz Khan too. Composers Shankar Jaikishen, Kalyanji Anandji, Salil Chowdhary and Khayyam repeatedly spun gold from the singer's expressive vocals. For me, Mukesh remains irreplaceable primarily because of his gift for imbuing each song with just the right amount of carefully calibrated expression. Listen to his rendition of Hiya jarat rahat from Godaan or O mere sanam from Sangam. Mukesh didn't ever over-emote while singing, even when he was breathing myriad shades of intensity into the words. And it's unfair to associate him only with sad songs thanks to his many heart-rending numbers such as Dost dost na raha or Koi jab tumhara hriday tod de. Mukesh's ruggedly emotional romantic numbers like O mehbooba tere dil ke paas hi hai or the lesser-heard Hum Hindustani gem, Raat nikhri hui zulf bikhri hui are among my favourites in the genre. Through the 1960s and 1970s, Mukesh continued churning out hits right up to his last few years. In the 1974-1976 phase he enjoyed the success of Roti Kapda Aur Makaan (Main na bhoolonga), Rajnigandha (he won the National Award for its song Kai baar yun bhi dekha hai) Sanyasi (Chal sanyasi) and Dharam Karam in which he enunciated the prophetic words Ek din mit jaayega maati ke mol, jag mein reh jayenge pyare tere bol. Within a year, Mukesh had passed away at the age of 53, while on a concert tour to Canada in 1976. Among the last songs that Mukesh recorded was the breezy Humko tumse ho gaya hai pyar from Amar Akbar Anthony, which is the only song I recall that brings the three tuneful titans Rafi, Mukesh and Kishore together. Kishore gave playback for Amitabh, Mohammed Rafi for Rishi and Mukesh for Vinod Khanna. Without realising, I too have brought Rafi, Kishore and Mukesh together, under a common umbrella. But one column is grossly insufficient to trace the amazing success stories of the three greats who sang till their last breath. I am signing off; but I will be back with the next instalment on Kishore and Rafi. Afterthought: Akbar is relieved I am listening to Mukesh, Kishore and Rafi on the car deck nowadays.

Take a trip down nostalgia lane, where Hindi film industry's biggest background singers Mukesh, Mohammed Rafi and Kishore Kumar have left an indelible mark on our musical psyche. Here, we look at Mukesh, the singer who actually wanted to be an actor

In memory of Mukesh

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In memory of Mukesh

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