Kishore @90

The golden voice of the ever-youthful Kishore Kumar continues to rule the hearts, old as well as young. The timeless appeal of his songs is there in music remixes, advertisements, and more. On his birth anniversary, here’s a tribute to the eccentric genius who continues to be the voice  of the young

Rohit Mahajan

The voice, 90 year old today, is still young. He may have died 32 years back but Kishore Kumar is with us all the time. His voice surrounds us, repurposed and reused, in jingles, remixes, re-creations and advertisements. 

What makes his voice so special, so timeless — always modern, always contemporary?

Kishore Kumar’s voice, style and expression were not rooted in time — not in the 1930s when he started singing as a child, not in the 1940s when he started singing in the movies, not in the 1950s and 1960s and so on.

It’s true that Kishore Kumar revered KL Saigal, imitated him in the early part of his career. In songs such as “Marne ki duayein kyon maangu” (Ziddi, 1948) or “Jagmag jagmag karta nikla” (Rimjhim, 1949), the influence is evident, in the inflection of the voice, in the taans and murkis, and in the nasal twang in singing.

Gurudev’s personal favourites

“Dukhi man mere” (Funtoosh) 
“Jagmag jagmag karta nikla” (Rim Jhim)
“Husn bhi hai udas udas” (Fareb)
“Chingari koi bhadke” (Amar Prem)
“Mere naina saawan bhaadon” (Mehbooba)
Koi hum dum na raha (Jhumroo)
“Mere mehboob kayamat hogi” (Mr X in Bombay)
“Koi hota jisko apna” (Mere Apne)
“Woh Shaam kuch ajeeb thi” (Khamoshi)
“Badi sooni sooni hai” (Mili)

Yet, it seems, Kishore also instinctively knew that in playback singing, expression is supreme, and that taans and murkis impede expression. Classical singing is an exhibition of one’s ability to do amazing things with one’s voice — it does involve showing off one’s skills; playback singing is not about showing off your skills — it’s about expressing joy, sorrow, love, agony, etc. Expression matters more than wizardry with taans and murkis. Kishore, and his great mentor SD Burman, knew that singing without vocal jugglery and sophistication goes straight to the heart.

In a tribute to Burman, related to Ameen Sayani, Kishore himself said: “He would ask me if I found something difficult to sing, and when I’d say yes, he would immediately simplify it.”

Kishore added in that tribute: “He would tell me ‘Kishore, sing with expression and feeling… Zyada murki ya taan maarne se kuchh nahin hota. If you sing straight, public will like your song’.”

Kishore sang as advised, and as he inherently believed, he should sing. He continued to revere Saigal till the end, but he forged a style of his own — voicing the emotions of a ‘normal’ and non-classically trained protagonist through song.

Kishore was not trained in classical singing, and thus didn’t have the tendency to indulge in taans and murkis. His voice, too, was strong, rich and clear, and he also had the ability to act through his voice. The youthful power and masculinity of his voice never left him — as is evident from his last recorded songs, for Waqt Ki Aawaz (released in 1988).

Way back in 1951, not yet 22, Kishore sang “Kusoor aapka huzoor aapka” in a movie called Bahar, in a style that doesn’t seem dated. Also in the 1950s, he sang “Dukhi mann mere”, “Jeevan ke safar mein rahi”, “Nakhrewali”, “Haye haye haye yeh nigahen”, “Yeh raatein yeh mausam”, “Main Bangali chhokra”, “Ham matavale naujavan”, “Akela hoon main is jahan main” (unreleased), etc. in a style that’s youthful and modern.

Kishore Kumar’s voice remains fresh and youthful even now, 32 years after his death. He easily skips from generation to generation without sounding dated, or like someone from the 1950s. He’s from today. Listen to “Aye haseenon, nazneenon” (Chacha Zindabad, 1959) or “Mil gai manzil door hui mushkil” (Dil Se Mile Dil, 1978) or “Honthon pe jaan chali aayegi (Patita, 1980) — all three may well have been recorded yesterday.

The young Kishore desperately wanted be a great singer; the music directors of those times, rooted in the traditions of classical singing, did not take him seriously. Yet, Kishore was a deadly serious singer, who was extremely competitive; when a ‘difficult’ song was offered to him, he wanted to nail it. An example is “Mere naina sawan bhaadon” (Mehbooba, 1976). When he realised that a version of the song would be recorded in the voice of Lata Mangeshkar too, he insisted that Lata’s version be recorded first; he then took home a recording of that version and rehearsed the song until he believed he had perfected it. If you listen to his version, it does seem perfect in every respect, as does Lata’s version.

Acting loony

The voice is so very powerful and dominant, but there’s another aspect of Kishore that keeps his youthfulness alive — his acting.

A French DJ, DJ Snake, with a few million ‘followers’ on the social media, recently shared a remixed version of one of his songs, with visuals from “Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi”, the timeless comedy that was released 61 years ago. It doesn’t figure Kishore’s voice, it has only the Ganguly brothers — Ashok, Anoop and Kishore — and their car. This clip, shot perhaps in 1957, is still zany.

Kishore’s acting was over the top, yes, but it was also youthful and zany and eye-catching. Up to the early 1960s, Kishore was an acting star who was a comic genius; in an era (1950s to early 1960s) of very serious heroes who left the hordes in cinema halls in tears, he was the only leading man who would make people laugh. Most of the times the plot was extremely implausible (Half Ticket or Ek Raaz, for instance) or absurd (Boy Friend or Bewakoof); many times the acting was over the top. He could be very ambitious in his own serious movies — but Kishore the actor is known for his comic timing and being youthful and playful and zany.

His voice is his most compelling presence among us — through songs, remixes and advertisement jingles — but his iconic status as a comedian also keeps him young.

Right from the 1950s, the young of India have identified themselves with Kishore Kumar. Many stalwarts of the Indian film industry revere him. “I wish he were alive today, so that I could breathe the air he would be breathing,” Shah Rukh Khan said in a tribute to Kishore a few years ago.

Kishore, like a true superstar, kept to himself — he was suspicious of the media and rarely gave interviews. But he claimed that he was a ‘simple villager’. In a lovely interview with Lata Mangeshkar, which can be seen on YouTube, Kishore does come across as a simple, humble and straightforward man — a man who would perhaps not feel at home in the times we are living in, when self-promotion is a valuable and prized asset. He wouldn’t be a man of our times. But his voice sure is — it is of all times.