The Legends: Mukesh

22.07.1923 - 27.08.1976

I am on record as having stated that Mukesh is an extremely limited singer. 'Limited' in the sense that he did not have the vocal range that Mohammed Rafi had, for instance, or the technical mastery over sur that Manna Dey did. His voice perhaps spanned an octave and a half, and the nasal tinge in his voice did not endear him to a much-younger me. Besides, I was weaned on Mohammed Rafi; Talat Mahmood's silken vocals came next, followed by a rollicking Kishore, though I liked his serious (not necessarily 'sad') songs just as much. And I liked Manna Dey and Hemant Kumar at various times, though if pushed to pick a favourite male singer, I would have chosen Rafi above all else. (I still would.) If asked when I was in college for instance, I would have placed Mukesh at the bottom of the totem pole of favourite singers. 

And I was wrong. As regular readers of my blog know, I was brought up on a steady diet of all things Raj Kapoor. Now, it is difficult to grow up with Raj Kapoor and not know, or like, the voice of his soul - Mukesh Chand Mathur. Exploring his songs while still a young adult, I came to several discoveries - that Mukesh's voice touched me deeply; that his songs did not depend on whether Mukesh could skip from a lower octave to a higher without losing a note; that it did not depend on the range of his voice, or his knowledge of classical music (he was the least classically-trained of his contemporaries), or his technical mastery over sur - Mukesh went besur often, and what is more, knew that he did so. One of the more endearing stories told about him is how, when he and Lata Mangeshkar were recording a duet, a violinist was so constantly hitting the wrong note, forcing them to record the song again and again that everyone was getting frustrated, even Lata, who was usually very even-tempered inside the recording room. Mukesh stopped, looked around and said jovially, "Who is copying me?" The tension in the room diminished at once.

It is one of the secrets of his success that Mukesh sang with great feeling. His songs touched people's hearts because of the emotion he invested in them. His songs became popular because unki aawaaz mein ek ajeeb si kashish thi - his voice had charm, it connected with the people, and it ensured Mukesh Chand Mathur his rightful place among the pantheon of the greats.

Mukesh proved that 'being perfect' is not always necessary to be 'great'. There are many technically superior singers out there who do not have a quarter of the genius that this unassuming singer possessed. And listening to his songs for the purposes of this post (thanks to a challenge by fellow blogger, Songs of Yore, who will not let me forget that I said Mukesh was a limited singer), I'm struck by how many of his (non-Raj Kapoor) songs are among my favourites. 

Young Mukesh Chand Mathur had a dream - to be an actor. Spotted by his distant cousin, Motilal, a successful actor, when he sang at his sister's wedding, Mukesh jumped at Motilal's offer, and soon came to Bombay chasing his dream.  Once there, he began voice training under Pandit Jagannath Prasad because, in those days, one had to know how to sing if one wanted to be an actor. His first recorded song was Dil hi bujha hua toh in Nirdosh (1941), where he was also the hero opposite a teenaged Nalni Jaywant. His first break as playback singer was for his cousin Motilal. The film was Pehli Nazar (1945) and the song was Dil jalta hai. Music director Anil Biswas recollected in an interview that the young Mukesh had come to him determined to sing like his idol, KL Saigal. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams - it is said that when Saigal heard the song, he remarked that he didn't remember recording it. It was the beginning of Mukesh's long and successful journey.

To Anil Biswas also goes the credit of honing Mukesh's natural talent - he is said to have told Mukesh that they had showed the world how he could do a Saigal; now it was time for him to prove to the world that he could be original. So he gave him Jeevan sapna toot gaya in Anokha Pyar (1948), to be picturised on Dilip Kumar. The same year, music director Naushad signed him for Mela, another Dilip Kumar starrer. He was another music director who was responsible for removing Mukesh's Saigal fixation. Raj Kapoor, for whom Mukesh had given playback in his first film Neel Kamal, would offer Mukesh Aag the same year, though it was only after Barsaat that the long and unusually close actor-singer collaboration began, an association which saw Mukesh become Raj Kapoor's alter-ego.

Mukesh slowly and steadily climbed the ladder of success, firmly staking his place among illustrious contemporaries such as Mohammed Rafi, Talat Mahmood, Manna Dey and later, Kishore Kumar. But the acting bug continued to trouble him, and he tried, disastrously, in one film after another, even producing a few himself. It proved a setback to his singing career, allowing both Rafi and Kishore to outrun him in the popularity stakes (and in the number of songs sung), and offering an opening to another under-utilised genius - Manna Dey - to set a foot into his fiefdom - the RK camp. 

In the meantime, he had fallen in love, and eloped with a young Gujarati Brahmin girl, Saral, whose wealthy parents disapproved of her relationship with a man who had neither his own house nor a steady income, and besides, was involved with films.  They were married quietly with cousin Motilal doing the kanyadaan. Despite naysayers who predicted divorce, the couple would celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary just before Mukesh left on that fateful US tour. Mukesh recorded his last song Chanchal sheetal nirmal komal - fittingly enough, for Satyam Shivam Sundaram, from his friend Raj Kapoor's banner. He also left behind a bottle of liquor with Raj Kapoor's major domo - to be presented to the showman after the song was shot. Alas, by the time the bottle was given to Raj Kapoor, Mukesh had left him soul-less.

'My soul' is what Raj Kapoor called him. Lata Mangeshkar referred to him as 'bhala aadmi' and he was always her 'Mukesh bhaiya'. (He called her 'Didi' even though he was older.) To Salilda, the maverick music director from Bengal, after Hemant Kumar whom he called the 'voice of God', it was Mukesh who was his favourite male singer in Hindi films: "Nobody could sing like him."  (After Naushad, it was Salil Choudhary who utilised Mukesh the most.)

On August 27th 1976, on a tour of America, where he and Lata Mangeshkar were the first Indian artistes to appear at the Kennedy Center, Mukesh suffered a fatal heart attack. He was 53. The voice that could evoke a thousand emotions was stilled. Raj Kapoor had lost his soul, the music world had lost one of its most shining luminaries, and the world had lost a good man.  

Earlier that year, Mukesh had sung -  
Kal aur aayenge naghmon ki khilti kaliyaan chhoonewaale
Mujhse behtar kehnewaale tumse behtar sun-ne-waale
Kal koi mujhko yaad kare kyun koi mujhko yaad kare
Mazroof zamaana mere liye kyun waqt apna barbaad karein?

(My father always says of the song: 'aram pattiya paatu' - it did seem like the song foreshadowed Mukesh's death.) 

But Mukesh was wrong. He is not forgotten. Even today, listening to his songs is not 'a waste of time'. And as Anil Biswas remarked on the occasion of Mukesh's death: "There was hardly a man who was not his friend and I hardly remember a man who was his enemy. Better musicians probably will come and go but Mukesh will remain Mukesh."  

It is a fitting epitaph.  

Here, in no particular order, are some of my favourite Mukesh solos; he may have been Raj Kapoor's voice, but as the following songs stand witness, he sang for many others, and successfully, at that. 

  

1. Gaaye ja geet milan ke (Mela/1948) Naushad/Shakeel Badayuni 

I dithered between this, and songs from Andaz (three of the four solos). I chose this for two reasons: one, because this is a happy song. I found the hero's happiness at his prospective meeting with his beloved unintentionally ironic. Because we, as the audience, know that she has already been married off, and in fact, his cart passes her doli. 
Kaahe chhalke nainon ki gagri, kaahe barse jal
Tum bin sooni saajan ki nagri, pardesiya ghar chal
Pyaase hai deep gagan ke tere darshan ke
Sajan ghar jaana hai
 
Two, this was a Naushad composition - so was Andaz, but this was the first film for which Naushad had signed Mukesh.

This was the perfect use of a song, not just as a filler, but as something that pulls the narrative along. The play on words - sajan ghar jaana hai -  made it even more poignant. He is returning to his village, to his beloved, having bought a wedding dress and bangles for her; she has been married off to a widower with children who are older than her, and is on her way to her husband's house. 

Interestingly, Dilip Kumar had been waffling on whether to sign Mela or not when he was summoned by the director of the film, who played for him Mera dil todnewale which had been recorded by music director Naushad, in Mukesh's (and Shamshad Begum's) voice. Mesmerised by Mukesh's rendition, Dilip Kumar signed the film on the spot - the first and last time the thespian ever did such a thing.  

In Andaz that followed the next year, Naushad gave Mukesh four solos, all of them to be picturised on Dilip Kumar. When he heard the songs, Dilip Kumar was dejected - they were simple tunes, he complained, not one of them matching the complexity of Uthaye jaa unke sitam that was sung by Lata. Naushad persisted. Mukesh's 'straight' singing, he said, would be the nations' voice when the film released. And so it proved. In an interview after the singer's death, Dilip Kumar was to say of the singer whose voice had captured well the emotions he expressed on screen: "Mukesh's range may have been limited, but within that range, he was superb."

2.  Suhana safar aur ye mausam haseen (Madhumati/1958) Salil Choudhary/ Shailendra

A whimsical fable of a love that transcends death, with a vengeful ghost and reincarnation, Salilda's magical melodies moved from the haunting to the chirpy, running the gamut between whimsical, romantic, portentous, grief-stricken and eager in between. According to Dwijen Mukherjee, Suhana safar was inspired by Sudhin Dasgupta's Ei chhaya ghera; he narrates how Salilda directly asked Sudhin Dasgupta whether he could adapt the song for a Hindi film he was working on, and the latter agreed immediately. Salilda adhered to the melody, changed its tempo and gave us a brand new song. Dwijen Mukherjee was his original choice to render this song in Madhumati, but Dilip Kumar demurred. His choice was Mukesh, and so, it fell to Mukesh to make it his own. 

Suhana safar is the first song in the film, and is an expression of a traveller's wonder as he feasts his eyes on nature's bounty. Mukesh sings it with such joy, such open-eyed wonder in his voice that the listener thrills to the song. As Dilip Kumar ambles through the misty hills and vales, exulting in the view around him, and wondering whether his dreams will come true, here, amidst all this beauty, Mukesh's voice echoes through the countryside, happiness in every note. Just sublime. 
Woh aasman jhuk raha hain zameen par
Ye milan humne dekha yaheen par
Meri duniya mere sapne milenge shaayad yahi
Suhana safar aur ye mausam haseen

Interestingly, veteran music director Abhijeet Bandopadhyay related that Shyamal Mitra, who had listened to the score of Madhumati long before its commercial release, was so besotted by Mukesh's O-ho-ho and its echoing effect just before the third antara of Suhana safar that, on his return to Calcutta, he composed and sang Ei paathe jai chole , the mukhda  of which was inspired by those notes.

3. Haan diwana hoon main gham ka maara hoon main (Saranga/1960) Sardar Malik/Bharat Vyas

I know that Saranga teri yaad mein is the more famous song from this film, but while it is a beautiful composition, I like this one better. Composed by Sardar Malik, and filmed on Sudesh Kumar, Mukesh gave voice to Bharat Vyas' lyrics that sang of the grief of losing someone you love. This is angst at its best. (Or worst, depending on your mood.) However, Sardar Malik's music made it seem less dirge-like than the lyrics make it sound.
Maangi khushiyaan magar gham mila pyar mein
Dard hi bhar diya dil ke har taar mein
Aaj koi nahin mere sansaar mein
Chhod ke chal diye mujhe majhdhaar mein

This was Mukesh at his quintessential best - someone once commented that with Mukesh's death, heartbreak went away from Hindi films.   

4. Jaaoon kahan bata ae dil (Chhoti Bahen/1959) Shankar- Jaikishen / Hasrat Jaipuri

While Chhoti Bahen is not one of my favourite films, I have to admit that S-J knew how to come up with a score that tugs at your heartstrings. Add Hasrat's heartfelt lyrics to the mix, and serve it all up in Mukesh's mellifluous voice, and you have a winner on your hands. Of course, this song is just the sort of 'existential angst' number that I used to despise. But I have changed my mind - this is not a dirge. It is so full of remorse for dreams that have soared and crashed, regret for past wrongs, and a conflict on how to move forwards. 

Haay is paar to aansuon ki dagar
Jaane us paar kya ho kise hai khabar

A known devil is better than an unknown angel. 

As Mukesh's voice ebbed and flowed, mimicking every emotion in Shailendra's words - Chaandni aaye ghar jalaane... one can only listen and grieve over the fact that even cool moonlight can destroy a house - the allegory is unmistakeable.

5. Zindagi khwab hai (Jaagte Raho/1956) Salil Choudhary/Shailendra  

This is, bar none, my favourite nasha song of all time. I love it for its music, for its lyrics and for its picturisation. Shailendra's lyrics celebrate a philosophy of hedonism (much like the lifestyle of the actor it was picturised on - Motilal), and is somewhat similar to Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya - only it is more selfish.  

The song is amusingly cynical, sung (on screen) by a dilettante who seems to have no trouble living life the way he desires. He has no qualms presenting a man dying of thirst with his solution for all ills - alcohol. It can even bring a corpse back to life, he claims...
Ek pyaali bhar ke maine gham ke maare dil ko di
Zehar ne maara zehar ko, murde mein phir jaan aa gayi

But it is a personal cynicism:
Dil ne humne jo kaha, humne waisa hi kiya
Phir kabhi fursat mein sochenge bura tha, ya bhala
Complementing Motilal's onscreen shenanigans was his protégé, Mukesh, his voice light and effervescent, filled with bonhomie towards one and all. 

6. Main pal do pal ka shaayar hoon (Kabhi Kabhie/1976) Khayyam/Sahir Ludhianvi

Sahir's philosophical lines, Khayyam's music, Mukesh's rendition, all combined to make this song a favourite, growing up. I must confess to going for the lyrics first, much to my husband's dismay. (He listens to the music first.) By this time, Aradhana had catapulted Kishore Kumar into the limelight, and even veteran singers like Mohammed Rafi had fallen by the wayside before the juggernaut. When the Amitabh wave swept Rajesh Khanna off his celluloid feet, Kishore easily transitioned to becoming the voice of the reigning superstar. However, Khayyam insisted on Mukesh for this song, and funnily enough, while you are watching the film you don't notice the incongruity between Amitabh's deeper voice and Mukesh's nasal enunciation. It is the feeling that touches you, the emotions in Sahir's lyrics vocalised so effectively by Mukesh.  

Mujhse pehle kitne shaayar aaye aur aakar chale gaye

Kucch aahein bhar kar laut gaye, kucch naghme gaakar chale gaye

Woh bhi ik pal ka hissa they, main bhi ik pal ka hissa hoon

Kal tumse juda ho jaaoonga woh aaj tumhaara hissa hoon... 

One facet that everyone remembers about Mukesh is his humility. The other is his sense of humour. At the HMV party for the music release of Kabhi Kabhie, the title poem in Amitabh's compelling baritone was being played for the audience.  People sitting next to Mukesh were privileged to hear him say quietly, 'Just wait and hear me after this... Talk of the ridiculous following the sublime.' 

7. Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye (Anand/1971) Salil Choudhary/Yogesh

This song is a moment of quiet, hidden grief in a film where the eponymous protagonist is always cheerful, always talking. Coming to terms with his own mortality, Anand allows himself to grieve not just for his own short life, but also for a short-lived romance in his past. 
Kabhi yunhi jab hui bojhal saansein
Bhar aayi baithe baithe jab yunhi aankhein
Tabhi machalke, pyar se chalke,
Chhue koyi mujhe par nazar na aaye

Yogesh's lyrics complemented that sense of loss, while Salilda's music emphasised the poignancy of the two different types of loss - one that's gone before, and one that is to come soon. Mukesh voiced that loss without becoming maudlin.  

8. Kai baar yun bhi dekha hai  (Rajnigandha/1974) Salil Choudhary/Yogesh 

Like one of his most famous songs, Jaanewale ho sake toh laut ke aana, in this song as well, the picturisation may show the hero, but the song itself is sung from the heroine's perspective. Salilda's composition won for Mukesh the National Award for Best Singer. It's a song about choices, about the grass seeming greener, about a past lover and a present one, about loving two people at the same time, and the dilemma that confronts the person at the apex of a triangle. 
Janoon na, janoon na, uljhan ye janoon na
Suljhaaon kaise kuch samajh na paaoon
Kis ko meet banaaoon, kis ki preet bhulaaoon
Kai baar yun bhi dekha hai ye jo man ki seema rekha hai
Man todne lagta hain
Anjaani pyaas ke peeche anjaani aas ke peeche
Man daudne lagta hai

This is not a quintessential 'Mukesh' song. He sounds thoughtful, rather than sad. 

9. Raat nikhri hui (Hum Hindustani/1960) Usha Khanna/ K Manohar (Manohar Lal Khanna)

And I grew up thinking Mukesh could only be sad and plaintive, if not downright whiny? If some of the earlier songs I have listed did not change my mind, then this one would surely turn the scales: this is as passionate a song (and a situation that must have raised quite a few eyebrows at the time the film was released) as anything one can imagine Mohammed Rafi singing. 
Ye sama tham gaya ye haseen adayein dekhke
Dhadkane so gayi ye nasheeli aankhein dekhke
Raat nikhri hui zulf bikhri hui
Har ada teri phoolon ki dali
Aaj subah nahin honewaali
Quiet, but passionate. And Mukesh infuses it with just the right mixture of romance, passion and promise.

10. Hiyaa jarat rahat din rain (Godan/1963) Ravi Shankar/Anjaan

Another wonderful song that breaks down the Mukesh stereotype. Redolent of the gaanv ki mitti, this song, for some odd reason, reminds me of Hariyala dhol bajata aaya from Do Bigha Zameen. No, not the melody, but its ethos. Sitar maestro Ravi Shankar composed music for only five Hindi films - Neecha Nagar, Dharti ke Lal, Anuradha, Godaan and  Meera.  

This song is 'new' to me. The composition that I knew, and loved very much, was Rafi's Piparake patwa mein. This song, Hiyaa jarat rahat din rain, is as melodious, and I love the musical accompaniment - a flute, sitar, mandolin, sarod, sarangi, violins, even castanets... it's such a joy to hear real instruments, especially when they are as prominent as in this song. 

Baswaari mein madhur sur baaje
Birhi papihara bolan laage
Madhure madhur madhu bain o ramaa
Jarat rahat din rain
A simple song, describing a rural landscape, and all the more stirring because it is so simple. 

11. Kaise manaoon piyawa (Char Diwari/1961) Salil Choudhary/Shailendra

Why is it that music directors tended to use male singers to voice a female viewpoint? I have already mentioned Jaanewaale ho sake toh laut ke aana and listed Kai baar yun bhi dekha hai, as examples. This is another song that plays in the background, in the context of a suhaag raat. Salilda's music, barely there, complements the anticipation and the nervousness implicit in Mukesh' rendition.

I can't really say I'm enamoured of lyrics that go  Kaise manaoon piyawa, gun mere ek hoon naahi, or the feelings of gratitude at being 'accepted' by her husband - 
Main anjaan paraayi, dwaar tihaare aayi
Tumne mujhe apnaaya, preet ki reet nibhaayi
Haay re man ki kaliyaan phir bhi khil na paayi 

but Shailendra did capture the nervousness of a new bride in:
Saajan mere aaye, dhadkan badhti jaaye
Naina jhukte jaaye, ghoonghat dhalti jaaye
Tujhse kyun sharmaaye, aaj teri parchhaain

12. Nain ka chain churakar le gayi (Chandramukhi/1960) SN Tripathi/Bharat Vyas

This is a song from what would have been considered a B-grade film in those days, and I wonder how many such songs have been relegated to the backyards of our memories because of the fate of the films in which they were picturised. It is one of the happiest lovesongs I have heard, and Mukesh's voice trips gaily along as the hero complains lovingly of the after-effects of falling in love as he describes his beloved in glowing terms.
Akhiyaan neeli aur nasheeli
Dil mein bas gayi woh lajeeli
Chaandni si madbhari si
Gagan se utri pari si
Yaad hai woh din suhaana
Woh suhaani shaam...

It is definitely a song that deserves to be better known, and it is thanks to the Internet that such songs make their way out of the depths, after having languished in relative obscurity for decades. The SN Tripathi-Bharat Vyas combination make their presence felt with both music and lyrics, and Mukesh complements both tune and feeling with heartfelt emotion. Lovely!

13. Humein ae dil kahin le chal (Chandni Chowk/1954) Roshan

This was definitely one of Mukesh's 'sad' numbers, the ones I didn't like very much when I was younger. Today, I'm better able to appreciate both the melancholy in the lyrics and the pathos in Mukesh's voice. One of Meena Kumari's earliest films, she stars alongside Shekhar, and the obviously star-crossed lovers have their own plaintive melodies.
Tamannaon se badli hai
Na badlegi kabhi kismet
Likha hai jo muqaddar mein
Wohi teri kasam hoga
Hamare dum pe hai har gham  
Na hum honge na gham hoga...

Roshan composed a beautiful score for this nondescript film and if you listen carefully to Tera dil kahan hain, you will hear the genesis of Rahe na rahe hum from Mamta, which would be made more than a decade later. 
 

14. Aa laut ke aaja mere meet (Rani Roopmati/1957) SN Tripathi/Bharat Vyas

The plaintive call of a man for his lover, this song from Rani Roopmati is the sort of song that is reminiscent of Mukesh. He sings of how bereft his music feels without his beloved,  and Mukesh' voice lifted what could have been a whiny, self-pitying song into a beautiful romantic melody. 

Mera soona pada re sangeet 

Tujhe mere geet bulate hain

Barse gagan mere barse nayan

Dekho tarse hai man ab toh aa ja

Sheetal pavan ye lagaaye agan

O sajan ab toh mukhda dikha ja

Tu-ne bhali re nibhaayi preet

Tujhe mere geet bulate hain

As the mood swings from the loneliness of a man separated from his love to that of one coaxing his lover to come, visit, by describing the cool breezes that ignites his senses, Mukesh' voice takes on the same lilt - loving, coaxing, pleading... it is hard to resist the call; this is the stuff romantic dreams are made of. 

15. Nain hamare saanjh sakare (Annadata/) Salil Choudhary/Yogesh

As if in testimony to my statement that Salilda knew how to use Mukesh and when, here is a very different song from Annadata. Again, (I can almost see SoY grinning at the thought of my having to eat the proverbial crow) not a quintessential 'Mukesh song'. Filled with gravitas, surely, but not sad, or whiny, or even plaintive. It is a ruminative song, and Mukesh sings it with just the right touch of unsurety. This is a man who is in love, but can clearly see how (and why) that love may never come to fruition; should, in fact, not come to fruition. Yet he cannot help but dream; who knows if they will come true?
Man ye kahe dukhi na ho dukhon se haar ke
Likhte rahe jo aansuon se geet pyaar ke 
Geet woh chahe roye koyi hans ke gaaye
Sach ye kahin honge ya nahin
Koyi jaane na... yahaan...  

These are but a few of my favourites. As you can see, I have also managed to squeeze in more than the requisite 15 by plugging other songs that were on my short list. Yes, I do realise that after writing a lot about how Mukesh was Raj Kapoor's soul, I do not have a single Raj Kapoor song in this list. That is because there are so many Mukesh songs that are picturised on Raj Kapoor that I like very much. So, funnily enough, this will be the first 'Legends' post that will have two parts - solos and duets as always, and an addendum in the form of my favourite Mukesh melodies for Raj Kapoor. (I'm sure Songs of Yore will laugh himself silly at the irony of my plight. In my defence, let me say that I'm allowed to be contradictory, and change my mind.)   

Tell me, what would you add to this list?