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| 04.08.1929 - 13.10.1987 |
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertigibbet, a will-o'-the-wisp, a clown?
Who do you know would fit the description of Maria
from The Sound of Music? Reverse the gender? He was Hindi
cinema’s L'enfant terrible, causing his
producers to tear their hair out in clumps. A maverick who, as actor, singer, and
music director, insisted that he be paid before he worked.
There is a thin line between genius and eccentricity.
Kishore Kumar straddled both with equal ease. For example, he once received the
officers of the Income Tax department, with whom he had a running feud, barking
at them from behind closed doors, so ferociously they took themselves off. He also used his Income Tax records as
rat-bait. When a producer paid him only half his dues, he landed up on the sets
with makeup only on one side of his face. When the shocked director asked him
why, he replied nonchalantly Aadha paisa
to aadha makeup. Poora paisa to poora makeup. Are these stories apocryphal?
Possibly. However, in his case, you never knew whether they were true. And that
was Kishore Kumar in a nutshell – one never
knew.
True stories? If the boys played cricket in the
neighbouring grounds, and the ball went over the walls to his ground, he would
pick it up and refuse to give it back. His farmhouse in Khandwa proudly bore
the sign ‘Mental Hospital’, while his flat at Warden Road had a sign outside
that warned visitors ‘Beware of Kishore’.
He is also perhaps the only producer-director who warned
his distributors not to touch his films because they may not run. His reason
for doing so? Because even he didn’t understand what he had made!
He once told an interior designer, who came to visit him
suited and booted at the height of summer that he wanted his living room
immersed in several feet of water, with little rowboats instead of sofas, and
an anchored centrepiece where they could put the tea service. When the man ran
away at this bizarre request, Kishoreda was unrepentant. Anyone who could wear
a three-piece woollen suit in summer deserved to be shocked.
On the sets of Miss
Mary, when they kept him waiting for five days without utilising his dates,
he began chopping his hair off. First he chopped some on his left side, then he
chopped some from the right to balance it; when he figured he had chopped too
much off the right side, he went back and chopped some more from the left. By
the time the unit called him for his shot, they were shocked to find he had
scarcely any hair left.
But. What does one say about a man who, as he lay dying,
rued that he had sung so many sad songs in his career? Why? Because "...when I
die, Doordarshan will only play my sad songs all day."
Born Abhas Kumar Ganguly, Kishore Kumar was brought into
films by his much-older brother, the legendary Ashok Kumar. Starting off as a
chorus singer, he soon ventured into acting, though he was never serious about
it. He initially came to Bombay because his brother had become a big star and
young Abhas hoped Ashok Kumar would introduce him to his hero, KL Saigal.
Kishore Kumar loved his solitude; he loved his trees
(each one lovingly named by him), his music, his horror films, and Alfred
Hitchcock. He cultivated his eccentricities in the hope that it would keep the
industry at bay, and that they would leave him to himself. They didn’t. He went
on to become a very successful actor, at one point, second only to Dilip Kumar
in his box-office draw. He gleefully narrated how he had proved his elder
brother wrong because the latter had discouraged him and Anoop Kumar from
becoming actors. “You are a pair of donkeys’, Dadamoni is supposed to have
said.
In an interview with Pritish Nandy for the Illustrated Weekly in the mid-eighties,
Kishore Kumar confessed that he hated every moment of his acting career, and tried
very hard to get out of it, even going to the extent of muffing his lines so
they wouldn’t sign him again.
In the same interview, he also narrates how he got out of
working with Satyajit Ray. Ray had offered him Parash Patthar, and Kishore Kumar was so scared of working with the
Master that he ran away until the role was snapped up by Tulsi Chakravarti. But
he never let Ray forget that he had loaned Ray Rs5000 to make Patthar Panchali. Even after Ray repaid
the whole amount, Kishore Kumar took great pleasure in reminding Ray that he,
Kishore, had had a hand in the making of a classic.
Despite being pushed into acting, Kishoreda carved his
own niche as singer, at one point charging almost as much as Lata Mangeshkar
for a song. (He charged one rupee less, in deference to her seniority.)
However, there was much more to the man than just actor /
singer. He was a man of many parts, a
music director, a scriptwriter, a producer/director... Despite being famous
for his yodelling (painstakingly practiced by listening to his brother Anoop
Kumar’s Austrian music tapes), he gave sensitive, almost melancholic music for
his own films.
It is hard to choose just a handful of songs from a long
and chequered career, especially when my favourite Kishore Kumar songs runs
into the hundreds. They also keep changing with my mood, but there are some
that remain enshrined as perennial favourites – for various reasons. With all
due apologies to Kishore Kumar, they also include his sad songs. So, here, are my picks from his solo numbers.
Marne ki duaen kyun maangoon (Ziddi/1948) Khemchand Prakash
Ziddi was a milestone film for both Dev Anand and Kishore
Kumar. It was the film that was to thrust Dev Anand into the limelight as an
actor; it was also the film for which Kishore Kumar sang the first song of his
career. (He had earlier sung two songs for an EP; they were not used.) The
song, written by Prem Dhawan, became a big hit, and Kishore Kumar came to be
reckoned as Dev Anand’s voice. It was the beginning of a long and fruitful
association, and Dev Anand was the only other hero for whom Kishoreda continued
to sing, even after he became an singer/actor in his own right.
Koi humdum na raha (Jhumroo/1961) Kishore Kumar
This song, originally composed by Saraswati Devi, was sung by brother Ashok Kumar in Jeevan Naiyya. Decades later, Kishore Kumar used the same tune for his film,
and it became one of the biggest hits of his career. The other song that I
really, really like from this film is Thandi hawa yeh chaandni suhani.
Badi sooni sooni hai (Mili/1975) SD Burman/Yogesh
Kishoreda shared a warm rapport with Sachin Dev Burman,
who had given him some of his career’s best songs. When, in the middle of
recording for Mili, Dada fell ill,
Kishore rushed to his bedside, and promised to complete the recording. Sung
with such feeling, it was to become Kishore Kumar’s signature song for years to
come. Another song that I absolutely adore, and will always be on any list of my
favourite Kishore Kumar songs is the song that Kishoreda sang for Amitabh under
RD Burman’s baton for Manzil – Rhim jhim gire saawan.
Woh sham kuch ajeeb thi (Khamoshi/1969) Hemant Kumar/Gulzar
One of my all-time favourite Kishore Kumar songs, it is
full of pathos, yet very hopeful. It is a personal favourite for more reasons than one.
Chingari koi bhadke
(Amar Prem/1971) RD Burman/Anand Bakshi
Post-Aradhana,
Kishore Kumar had a renewed lease of life. The RD-Rajesh Khanna- Kishore Kumar
combination came to be looked upon as magic. It was a tidal wave that was to
give us some of the best-loved melodies of the 70s. Kishore Kumar was to rule
the roost as the most popular male singer. Even though he was also lending his
voice to a young Amitabh, a Vinod Khanna and others, he was primarily Rajesh
Khanna’s voice. Amar Prem also
brought to the fore another very-successful combination – Shakti Samanta,
Rajesh Khanna, and Sharmila Tagore. This is another song that will always
remain among my top ten Kishore Kumar songs.
Aa chal ke tujhe main leke chaloon (Door Gagan ki Chaaon Mein/1964) Kishore Kumar
This film was a one-man vehicle. Kishoreda wrote the script
and the lyrics (for this song), composed the music, sang and enacted the song
under his own direction. A very sensitive film about an impoverished father and
his mute son (played by real-life son Amit Kumar), it was beautifully directed
by Kishoreda.
Chhookar mere man ko (Yaarana/1981) Rajesh Roshan/Anand Bakshi
Coming amidst the cacophony of the eighties, the songs of
Yaarana were a welcome oasis to
senses assaulted by the disco craze. Music director Rajesh Roshan used the mukhda of a Rabindra Sangeet Tomaar holo shuru, aamaar holo shaaraa and
spun a melody that was quiet, yet beautiful.
Jeevan se bhari teri aankhein (Safar/1970) Kalyanji-Anandji/Indeevar
There is a pathos that underlines these lyrics. Rajesh
Khanna is suffering from a terminal disease and knows it. Yet, the liveliness
in Sharmila Tagore’s eyes makes him want to live. The other song that I do like
from this film is Zindagi ka safar hai yekaisa safar. Kishoreda had a clause written into his contract that only he
would sing Rajesh Khanna’s songs in two-hero films.
Yeh shaam mastani (Kati
Patang/1970) RD Burman/Anand Bakshi
Another
song from the RD Burman-Rajesh Khanna-Kishore
Kumar trio, this was one of the music scores that came at a time when
the trio
could do no wrong. In a film where Kaka played a highly sympathetic
role, the musical score was aptly romantic, and the Rajesh
Khanna-Kishore Kumar combination wove magic on screen.
Ek ladki bheegi bhaagi si (Chalti ka Naam Gaadi/1958) SD Burman / Majrooh Sultanpuri
Lore has it that Kishore Kumar produced Chalti ka Naam Gaadi hoping it would
flop, and so ease his income tax problems. Unfortunately for him, this madcap
caper involving his real-life brothers, future wife Madhubala and a Chevrolet car
turned out to be a ringing success at the box office. With spanners and
wrenches providing the required accompaniment, Kishore Kumar’s trademark
breeziness wins over not only the heroine but also listeners across
generations.
Raat kali ek khwaab mein aayi (Buddha Mil Gaya/1971) RD
Burman/Majrooh Sultanpuri
One of Kishore Kumar’s ‘lesser-known’ (relatively) songs,
its popularity has withstood the onslaught of the ages. I love this song, not
only for its picturisation but because Kishoreda sings it with such seeming ease
and flourish.
Hum hain raahi pyaar ke (Nau Do Gyaarah/1957) SD Burman/Majrooh Sultanpuri
Picturised on a rakish Dev Anand whose ‘voice’ Kishore Kumar was
before he became Rajesh Khanna’s alter-ego, this is one of Kishoreda’s lighter
songs that has been a perennial favourite. I love everything about it – the whistling
in the beginning and in the interludes, the exuberant lightness of the music, Dev
Anand and his broken-down truck and the sheer insouciance of the whole mood of
the song.
Meri bheegi bheegi si (Anamika/1973) RD Burman/Majrooh Sultanpuri
This is Kishore Kumar at his restrained best in a song
that expresses the singer’s anguish, disappointment and anger. Picturised on
Sanjeev Kumar (and Jaya Bhaduri), the song is several notches above similar
songs from the same genre.
Aane waala pal
(Golmaal/1979) RD Burman/Gulzar
One can certainly expect a certain standard from the
Gulzar-RD combination, and they don’t disappoint in this song from the frothy Golmaal. Gulzar’s excellent lyrics make
this RD composition a genuine classic, while Kishore Kumar’s voice conveyed all
the romance that was necessary.
Chhota sa ghar hoga
(Naukri/1954) Salil Choudhary/Shailendra
Kishore Kumar had no formal training in music and music
director Salil Choudhary was not inclined to trust Kishore Kumar to sing for
him, regardless of the fact that the young lad had already managed to impress
Khemchand Prakash. Salilda had, in fact, already invited Hemant Kumar to render
this song for the film, in which Kishore Kumar was the hero. Kishore Kumar had
to literally beg the composer to give him a hearing before Salilda unbent
enough to allow him to sing for himself. Kishore Kumar justified the composer’s
trust by infusing the simple yet touching lyrics with sincerity. Years later,
for Annadata, Salilda was to insist
on Kishore Kumar for Guzar jaaye din din din, because he felt that only Kishore could do justice to his melody. The
composition was so complicated that Kishoreda took 18 takes to get it right.
Kishore Kumar was a mass of contradictions, and delighted in keeping the mask
of a clown firmly in place. There were brains at work behind that mask and even
his eccentricities were tailored to enhance that image. These songs that I have chosen are just the tip of the iceberg. A handful of songs
from three decades that do not even begin to explain the talent that was his.
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Trivia:
When Kishore Kumar married the third time, he was
nicknamed ‘Mohabbat Khan’ by Dadamoni. Kishoreda, in turn, called his wives bandariyas because they all lived in
Bandra prior to their marriage.
Two rare clips:
A legend interviewed by another (that was the only way he
would consent to be interviewed):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49_XWga_O1k&feature=related
Some personal observations by a man who had the felicity of being one of the few journalists who actually spoke to the reclusive singer.
Some personal observations by a man who had the felicity of being one of the few journalists who actually spoke to the reclusive singer.
http://movies.rediff.com/look/2009/aug/05/kishore-kumar-the-only-genius-i-ever-knew.htm
Kishoreda once listed the following songs as his personal favourites:
Kishoreda once listed the following songs as his personal favourites:
Song Music Director Film
Dukhi man mere SD Burman Funtoosh
Jag mag jag mag karta nikla Khemchand Prakash Rim Jhim
Husn bhi hai udas udas Anil Biswas Fareb
Chingari koi bhadke RD Burman Amar Prem
Mere naina saawan bhaadon RD Burman Mehbooba
Koi hum dum na raha Kishore Kumar Jhumroo
Mere mehboob qayamat hogi Laxmikant-Pyarelal Mr X in Bombay
Koi hota jisko apna Salil Chowdhury Mere Apne
Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi Hemant Kumar Khamoshi
Badi sooni sooni hai SD Burman Mili
These are some of my favourite solos. (Duets in my next post.) What are yours?
