The Versatile GeniusWhat do you call a man who can sing and dance; act and mimic; write and compose; make you laugh and cry all at one time? How do you define a person who lives by defying norms? How do you quantify a genius whose talent is immeasurable? Multi-faceted, versatile, sensitive, prankster.
There has been only one such man in hindi Filmdom. Kishore Kumar - a man who lived for his one love - music. Kishore Kumar wore so many garbs, that probably the real Kishore Kumar, always remained an enigma to his own family and close friends, Even R.D. Burman, the composer who unarguably brought out the best in his exasperatingly talented man.
R.D. Burman would chortle heartily when he recalled his first encounter with the madcap genius. He ran into a strange looking man at Kardar studios. Perched on the compound wall, wearing a muffler, cap and wielding a large black stick, he was imitating everyone who passed by. This strange man then followed S.D. Burman and R.D. Burman into the recording studio and mimicked every note that was being rehearsed by Lata Mangeshkar. When S.D. Burman, now thoroughly exasperated, asked him why, he replied, "I am an orphan. Nobody looks after me. Please give me a chance to sing."
Born on August 4, 1929, in Khandwa, Madhya Pradesh, Abhas Kumar Ganguly, nurtured dreams of becoming a singer and following the footsteps of his idol K.L. Saigal, to bury whose records, he diligently saved his pocket money. He visited his by then famous star brother Ashok Kumar, in Mumbai frequently, in the hope that he would introduce him to K.L. Saigal. But destiny willed otherwise. He was forced into acting and hated every moment of it. He used every guile in his book to ruin his acting career.
'I muffed my lines; pretended to be crazy, shaved my head, played difficult, began yodelling in the middle of tragic scenes, told Meena Kumari what I was supposed to tell Bina Rai. But they still wouldn't let me go. I screamed , ranted, went cuckoo. But who cared? They were just determined to make me a star'.
And though Kishore Kumar hated being ordered around by directors, (who according to him didn't know their jobs most of the time) the hits followed. New Delhi (1956), Asha (1957), Chalti Ka Naam Gadi (1958), Jhumroo (1961), Half Ticket (1962),Shreeman Funtoosh (1956) and Padosan (1968). All time blockbusters, that managed to tie down Kishore to a busy acting schedule, so much so, that for a song in Sharaarat, Mohd Rafi, actually had to provide playback for him.
In an industry, where comedy was seen as a filler or diversion from the main plot, there emerged in the form of Kishore, a hero who made comic acting an evolved art. Laughing, singing and dancing, Kishore was the complete comic hero, comparable to the likes of Bob Hope and Danny Kaye. And his unconventional looks and personality only added to the fun that audiences had when watching him. Even while playing second fiddle to the hero, Kishore added an extra zing to the film. Whether it was the pan chewing ustad of Padosan, who takes on the carnatic maestro Mahmood in a musical duel or in his usually funny song and dance routine in movies like Miss Mary.
Kishore's own inspiration was the popular entertainer Topol, who he believed was unparalleled in cinema. During a visit to London, Kishore had the thrilling opportunity of watching his hero, live onstage . He attended all four consecutive shows and waited to be introduced to Topol. Kishore's dream came true, when he shook hands with Topol and gifted his cassettes to him.
The young Kishore's real ambition was to become a playback singer and it was no cakewalk for this younger sibling of the famous Ashok Kumar. In an interview to Bunny Reuben in Filmfare, Kishore Kumar reminisced about his early days and said 'I remember how I used to stand at bus-stops and stars, friends of my brother, would fly past in their limousines without so much as a glance at me'. 'I wanted to sing and people would say 'Your voice is no good to us'. 'Us mein woh cheez nahin hai'.
And then came the chance to sing 'Marne ki duayen kyon mangu' for Dev Anand in Ziddi 1948, under the baton Khemchand Prakash. It was then that he met Lata Mangeshkar, an encounter as amusing and as strange as everything else is about Kishore Kumar. In his own words, in a rare interview with Lata he says, 'We happened to be travelling in the same local train (in Mumbai). You got off and I got off'. You got into a tonga, so did I. Both of reached Bombay Talkies Studios. And you are convinced I was following you'.
Kishore Kumar acknowledged veteran composer Khemchand Prakash's hand in shaping his singing career. Prakash asked Ashok Kumar to leave the young Kishore in his hands. Ashok Kumar relates about his younger brother's fondness for music. Ashok Kumar had sung on screen 'Koi humdum na raha' earlier and little Kishore fell in love with the song and was determined to sing it. The complex beat and the young, Kishore's rather poor (according to Ashok Kumar) voice obviously did not help. Then Kishore hurt himself and cried for an entire month! His voice improved and much later he went on to sing the hauntingly beautiful 'Koi humdum na raha' in Jhumroo.
Kishore Kumar was unstinting in crediting his popularity to the Burmans - father and son. It was S.D. Burman who made Kishore, the superstar singer of the seventies, when he chose him to sing 'Roop tera mastana, pyar mera diwana' for Rajesh Khanna in the superhit Aradhana. This together with the song that set the trend of wooing, 'Mere sapnon ki rani, kab ayegi tu' made Kishore the voice of the 'Chinky eyed sensation,' 'the chocolate faced hero' Rajesh Khanna.
S.D. Burman did more than just make Kishore a superstar singer. He helped him out when his marriage to Ruma Devi caused a split in the family, by making him sing. 'Qusoor apka' in Bahaar and the song went to become a hit.
S.D. Burman made him the voice of Dev Anand much before Rajesh Khanna came on the scene. In Guide, Jewel Thief, Paying Guest and Munimji under S.D. Burman's expert hands, Kishore's talent was honed and fine tuned. 'Maana janab ne pukar nahin' and 'Gaata rahe mera dil' were some evergreen hits that Kishore sang for debonair Dev.
Another composer who placed implacable faith in Kishore was S.D. Burman's son, Rahul Dev Burman. The lack of basic training in music, never hampered Kishore's intuitive feel and enormous talent for music. R.D. Burman recalls an incident related to the rendering of 'Mere naina sawan bhadon' for Mehbooba. The number was to be sung separately by Lata and Kishore. Kishore insisted Lata sing her version first so he could follow her cue to the nuances of the song.
R.D. Burman saw Kishore's talent for mimicry to be the singer's greatest advantage. 'He'd hear Pandit Bhimsen Joshi sang and at once catch the tune. Then he'd hum it a couple of times and by evening he'd be doing a perfect replay. His ability to mimic combined with his voice quality gave him tremendous speed and power. The flexibility of his own voice gave it immense range and expression'. R.D. Burman found these qualities abysmally lacking in newer singers who blindly aped the timbre of Kishore's voice. 'Newcomers lack that flexibility. They lack freshness. They don't seem to think that originality is an asset. They feel being carbon copies of Kishore will guarantee success.... They don't realise they lack what he had... an intrinsic feel for music and a mind-boggling range'.
Which is why after the decline of Rajesh Khanna, R.D. Burman and other composers were able to successfully exploit Kishore Kumar's voice for the superstar of all time Amitabh Bachchan. For Don, Sharabi, Mili, Amar Akbar Anthony, the list is endless.
Kishore Kumar's ability to modulate his voice to suit the personality of his hero, and the ethos of the situation, was what made him a star. He was as much the voice of the dapper Dev, the adorable Rajesh as well as the aggressive angry young man Amitabh Bachchan. Rajesh Khanna speaks with unrestrained fondness, of the manner in which Kishore so beautifully reflected his persona's character. 'When I heard the first song of Aradhana, I felt as though I was actually singing. Or that he's standing, in front of me and I'm copying him. We are like two lives in one body'. He could keep in step with the debonair Dev in 'Maana janab ne pukara nahin', drench his voice in the excitement and nervousness of the mad, passionate Rajesh Khanna in 'Roop tera' and clown around for Amitabh in 'My name is Anthony Gonsalves'.
For those who believe that Kishore belonged to the vocal, demonstrative mode, there are enough songs to dispel that myth. From the early O.P. Nayyar composition 'Meri neendon mein tum' to 'Jeevan se bhari' to the much later 'Badi sooni sooni hain', the mellow baritone washes over listeners like a soothing balm.
That Kishore Kumar was capable for quite, introspective moments is probably quite a revelation. The gentle, soft spoken Lata, breaks into unbridled joy as she reminisces over the 'mazaa' that recording sessions with Kishore brought. 'Pehle gaana, phir hasna' admonished Lata, as Kishore made everyone laugh over his antics.
Asha Bhonsle recalls with amusement the recording of 'Piya piya piya' for Baap re baap. She mistakenly sang into Kishore's line. The quick witted, ever inventive Kishore assured the dismayed Asha. 'Don't worry about it. I am the hero of the film. As soon as your out-of-turn intonation comes on screen, I'll place my hand on the heroine's mouth'.
Astonishing adaptability was probably the cornerstone of his success, as much as his varied eccentricities were the result of his deep sensitivity. How else can one explain his deep disenchantment with the commercial culture and decadence of the late seventies and early eighties. It's all become terribly boring, may be I'm to blame. But then I've been singing for three and a half decades now and I'm used to the style of great composers of the yesteryears like S.D. Burman and Husnlal Bhagataram. Those days we were given a whole day for rehearsals and another for the take. Unlike today when within two hours flat you complete the entire recording'.
It was the paucity of singing challenges that led him to remark, 'I want to run away. It's because there's too much exertion involved in today's music. It's not like the music of the earlier days'.
This from the same man who put a board outside his calling it a 'Lunatic Asylum' and referred to his wives as 'Bandariyas' because they lived in Bandra. He exasperated greenhorn interviewer by introducing her to the trees in his backyard as his friends. And drove his interior decorator very nearly crazy by insisting on converting his drawing room into a swimming pool, installing boats instead of sofas and hanging live crows instead of paintings.
Kishore Kumar's eccentricities were probably his way of defending himself from a cruel, confused world. Through laughter was his leitmotif'. Kishore Kumar was buffeted on the seas of life. In private, his search for love and acceptance, made and broke his marriages. He defied his family to marry Ruma Devi and ironically never found time to spend with his wife and young son. He was entranced by the beautiful Madhubala, but illness doomed their union. His brief dalliance with the young Yogeeta Bali was another pained cry for companionship. And when he finally found true love with Leena Chandavarkar, cruel fate intervened and before long took him away forever...
Despite his private agonies, Kishore always remained buoyant. His idiosyncrasies constantly surprised everybody around him and ensured that no one could take him for granted. When asked why the films he directed were such flops, he said 'Because I tell my distributors to avoid them. I warn them at the very outset that the film might run for a week at the most. Naturally they go away and never come back'.
Though a devoted artiste, his candid view of his abilities stopped him short of smugness and arrogance. Who else would ridicule his own hit film 'Chalti ka naam gadi' with a spoof 'Baddhti ka naam dadhi'.
His constant search for the unexpected and startling bore some astonishing results. Radio host Ameen Sayani recounts that when he was asked to interview Kishore, the singer insisted on concocting four characters - a judge, a child, a young man and an old man, and then played all four characters. The unusual programme was an instant hit.
Kishore produced, directed, acted in and composed the music for Jhumroo, an enormous achievement. He then made an uncharacteristically serious film on the relationship between a father and his dumb son - 'Door Gagan ki Chhaon mein'. This 1964 film that Kishore directed, produced, scripted and scored music for was a sensitive offbeat drama about a war hero Shankar (Kishore Kumar) who returns home from battle to find that his family has perished in a fatal fire. Only his young son (played by his real life son - Amit) has survived. The film proceeds to sensitively delineate the father's efforts to draw his shell-shocked son out of his self-imposed exile. This film was a classic in the genre of war movies, and preceded a spate of Vietnam war inspired films of Hollywood. Critics and fans were astounded by the film which had the unstoppable funster in a serious introspective, brilliantly sensitive portrayal. 'Door Gagan Ki Chhaon Mein' went on to win many national and international awards. Its critical success was perhaps what motivated the making of 'Door Ka Rahi', another Kishore creation that throws up touches of stylistic tranquility of 'Door Gagan Ki Chhaon Mein'. The heightened expectations of his fans, of Kishore as a director, were never ever fulfilled by his other films - 'Badhti Ka Naam Daadhi' (1978) 'Zindagi' (1981) or 'Door Wadiyon Mein' (1982)
The last was another surprise from the singing, dancing vocal comic - a song-less film.
The veteran composer, Salil Chowdhury remembers this astonishing ability to do the unexpected, while recounting an incident related to the recording of 'Aake seedhi lagi' for Half Ticket. Lata Mangeshkar was unable to come for the recording. The ever-resourceful Kishore suggested that he would do both the male and female voice. Salil Chowdhury very nearly brushed it off as a prank, but Kishore was serious. And we have the humorous and absolutely astonishing song sung in both octaves by that mad, versatile, committed artiste - Kishore.
His childlike, guileless personality won him the friendship and admiration of friends and colleagues as testimonials in this anthology prove.
The R.D. Burman follower, composer Bappi Lahiri, who looked upon Kishore Kumar, as his mentor says, 'I wouldn't be here but for him. From 'Chalte Chalte' to my last song, he sang ninety percent of my compositions.
His death is a great personal loss to me, but a greater professional loss. Now, I'll have to work harder to put in the fifty percent which he used to add'. And Bappi Lahiri must really know, for it was for him that Kishore Kumar recorded his last song on October 12, 1987, a day before he died.
Kishore Kumar's ardent desire in his last days was to return to his native Khandwa, but that was not to be. His sudden death took even him and many others by surprise. R.D.Burman was left bereft when Kishoreda passed away suddenly. 'When Kishore was alive, it was so easy. Like Rafi and Mukesh he had a style of his own. In a way he was one up on the others because he could pick a tune and make it completely his own, to such an extent that you'd feel no one but he could ever sing it. Kishore Kumar's demise left a void that imitators have failed to fill. Composers were left holding tunes that they had composed only for Kishore and only Kishore could have sung.
Like Lata puts it - HE WAS DEFINITELY A SAMPOORNA KALAKAR (THE COMPLETE ARTIST) HE KNEW EVERYTHING. I CALL HIM INDIA'S DANNY KAYE, PRODUCER, ACTOR, DIRECTOR, SINGER.............
(source:Compiled from the booklet published by The Gramaphone Company of India Ltd.)
milenge saaye baahar ke'Azhar (to himself) - 'Saala main toh sahab ban gaya'
