Mukesh article Options

[suhana_safar]

Here is an article for Mukesh fans. It is written by Nitin Mukesh.

Enjoy.

Would you believe my father took his first step towards becoming a playback singer at a wedding in Delhi? That too as a baraati? It so happened that the great Motilal, who had blazed the yesteryear screen, was an invitee at the wedding and, obviously, the baraatis wanted to impress him. The onus fell on my father, who was known as the local K L Saigal.

My father, who was only 16 then, was not too keen about the idea. Also, he was rather embarrassed at the thought of performing before the famous Motilal. However, when everyone coaxed him, he agreed. And Motilal was suitably impressed. So much so that he immediately asked the young Mukesh Chand Mathur to accompany him to Bombay. With no formal training in music, it seemed a very big step for a young boy to take…

My grandfather, who was a government servant, was, surprisingly, very supportive of my father's decision. He let him go to Bombay with Motilalji. This, despite the fact that my father was the sixth child in a family of 11 children, and my grandfather was not very well-to-do in those days.

But when my father came to Bombay, Motilalji took complete care of him. He paid for his music classes, allowed him to stay at his house and treated him like his son. Motilalji had only one condition: he told my father he would not use his contacts to help him get a break in the music industry. Which was okay with my father.

Accordingly, my father got his first break on his own. The year was 1951. Music director Anil Biswas offered him the chance to sing one song for the film Pehli Nazar. Dil jalta hai to jalne de was an overnight success. And the spotlight focused sharply on the 18-year-old debutant singer.


Though this song made him famous, my father continued to face many ups and downs in his career. Then, he met Raj Kapoor. The meeting happened quite by accident at Ranjit Studios. But I have always believed that a meeting between these two great people was ordained by the heavens.

Raj Uncle was a great admirer of my father's voice and wanted to sign him on as playback singer for his film. My father readily agreed. The first song my father sang for Raj Uncle was Zinda hoon main for the film, Aag.

There are many people in the film industry who have helped my father in many ways. But there was one person who could, with my father, share the onus of having taken him to the realm of legends -- that person is Raj Kapoor.

Many of my father's critics insist he lacked versatility. I find it difficult to agree with them. It is true that my father had been typecast as the perfect voice for sad songs. If Dilip Kumar was the tragedy king of cinema, then Mukesh was the tragedy king of singers. But he is the same person who has sung nimble, happy numbers like Dum dum diga diga and Ramiya vata vaya. Does this show lack of variety?

It was not that my father got to sing more songs than his contemporaries. But, somehow, the song to which he lent his voice would turn out to be the most popular song in the film. Kati Patang, for example, has many good songs sung by good singers. But the most memorable song in the film is Mukesh's Jis gali mein tera ghar na ho balma.

Amongst his contemporaries, my father’s favourite singer was Mohammed Rafi. He loved Rafisaab's voice, and believed that nobody could replace him.

My father belonged to an era that boasted of many talented singers. It was a time when you could not say one singer was better than the other. Just as each singer had his strengths, so also each singer had his weaknesses. My father was a very gifted singer, I believe this talent was God's gift to him. Besides, he was also blessed with good luck.

He was special, because he always sang straight from the heart. He was a very sensitive human and he possessed a fine sense of humour. My father was a family person who made it a point to spend time with his children. After a long day at the recording studios, he would still oblige us if we wanted to go out for a movie, an ice cream, etc. He was everyone's favourite uncle, taking my four brothers, my sister and our friends for outings and picnics regularly.

My father was a man who was filled with the joy of living and lived his life to the fullest. Sadly, he died when he was only 51 years old. But in those 51 years, he gave people memories that would remain fresh with them for more than a hundred years.

My father was very thoughtful, even as far as the servants were concerned. Whenever he travelled abroad, he would bring gifts for our domestic servants, the lift man and even the watchman.

There were plenty of ups and downs in my father's life, but they did not really bother him. He used to say that a person can't achieve success without suffering hardships. He used to hate it whenever people asked him what his favourite songs were. And, though he never mentioned it, I think his favourite songs were his first song Dil jalta hai and Jane kahan gaye vo din from the film Mera Naam Joker. He simply loved that song, he used to sing it very often.

He was very happy when I sang my first couplet for Mera Naam Joker. The couplet was filmed on Rishi Kapoor. But he would always warn me, "Singing is a beautiful hobby, but a painful profession."

Today, I feel sad about the fact that people compare me to my father. My father was a legend, and legends do not lend themselves to comparison. If I had replaced my father in the minds of the people, you would not have been here to interview me about him. Instead, you would talk to me about my work, my songs. As an artiste, I feel my father is irreplaceable.


He did not mind me singing any of his songs, except for Jane kahan gaye woh din on which there was a blanket ban. I remember the first time I sang this song -- it was 22 years ago, on August 25. He was on stage in Toronto, singing this song, when he began to feel very uncomfortable. So he asked me to complete the last couplet. I was surprised, but did what he said. Even Lataji was present on the stage.

Little did I realise then that the world had witnessed his last performance.

On August 27, 1976, we were busy preparing for the show in Detroit. He had just woken up from his siesta, and complained of feeling uncomfortable. At 4.30 pm, he told me to call a doctor. He did not want me to inform Lataji, who was also part of the show that was scheduled for 6 pm. Even in that condition, he was considerate about her feelings -- he did not want her to be upset.

I did not know what to do. I was alone and terribly frightened. I started crying because I could not bear to see his state. He tried to assure me that nothing would go wrong. At the same time, he was very insistent that Lataji should not be disturbed. But I did not know who else to run to for help.

Lataji rushed to help us. Despite the best efforts of the doctors, he did not pull through. And he passed away when the clock ticked 5.50 at Detroit. Thus ended the saga of a legend called Mukesh Chand Mathur, the boy who came to Bombay at the age of 16. Today, his voice reigns in houses, coffee shops and dhabas all over India. He is still alive, 22 years after his death, in the sheer magic of his voice.

[desai2rn]

Thanks. As Mukesh fan I am always appreciative of any article on the Great
Legend. I have always felt that Mukeshji did not get the appreciation and
recognition he deserved. He truly was a great singer and had equally great
and refined human qualities. I really believe that that is a prereuiste to be a
singer like Mukeh whose song went straight to people's heart and remained there.

The same can be said of Rafisaab, Kishorekumar and Lataji. I guess
the Golden Era when all the legends sang to-gather will not be back.

Ramesh.

[rom]

Another one on Mukesh ji... Nitin Mukesh remembers him here.

http://www.singermukesh.com/articles_files/nitin1.htm

'Remembering Papa'
                  by
Nitin Mukesh


"From all the relationships one has - that of a husband, brother, son, friend, father, he was the best as a father. He was a doting parent - an indulgent, pampering father, so that we could have easily got spoilt but we didn't because he taught us values too. In fact the way he gave us our values was worth seeing. He'd never thrash us or be angry but in his own gentle way make us understand," his son reminisces. "But to go back to his life in films, he got his first break with Anil Biswas in the film Pehli Nazar. 

This is how it happened. It was in his sister's baraat that the great actor Motilal was one of the baraatis. People pushed my father to sing in front of him. He sang one of K.L.Saigal's songs and Motilal was struck by his voice. He invited him to Bombay and when he did go, true to his word, got him to sing for Pehli Nazar in which he was the hero. The song catapulted papa into fame immediately. Thereafter Motilalji kept papa in his own house as a son. That's when he started training. He'd had no training earlier. He was very young when he came to Bombay, almost penniless and one of 11 children, but it was his keen desire to become a singer that brought him here. He was a great fan of Saigalsaab. After that he continued to learn almost till the end of his life. He always said that he was a student even after achieving a stature few people do. Motilal was his benefactor. He got instant success, for a while it was an upswing career wise. He was singing for Anil Biswas, Naushad and many greats. 
That's the time when he met my mother. They did not belong to the same community, my mother is a Gujarati and he a Mathur Kayasth. There was stiff opposition from her family so they eloped and Motilalji gave her kanyadaan. He was in fact the grandfather I've never met. Life was much better for my father now. Soon after, my elder sister was born and then, in 1950, I was born. Around this time he sang for Awaara and his peak period started. 
Then again there was a lull in his career, for heaven knows what reason. This went on for almost five years and anyone else who'd seen so much popularity would've found it intolerable, particularly because one could not pinpoint why it happened. But papa was a great believer in destiny and God. This helped him survive and then the innate fondness of a person does pay - and papa was for me decidedly the best, not just one of the best, human beings I've ever known and many others will share this view, his concern for people, his generosity was apparent . The way I see it, I have to make an attempt to be nice, but papa was a natural. There was no effort in his goodness whether with family members or with colleagues. "There used to be music directors who were starting their careers who couldn't afford to pay him and he'd say: 'Never mind, just give me a song to suit my style' and he'd walk away from so many recordings without payment. 
If you see the career graphs of a number of composers you'll find that  Mukesh was their main voice. He had become the launching pad for many of them. When they did well they'd be grateful to him. "His concern for everybody was phenomenal. When we'd go for concerts we'd be put up in the best five star hotels while the musicians were put in less expensive hotels. This would bother him and he'd say, 'It'll be unfair to the organisers to expect them to put up everyone at an expensive hotel so it would be much simpler for me to shift to their hotel'. I'd be fuming but later I realised what he was doing and his musicians simply adored him. He was all this and more. "He taught us a sense of values by showing how disciplined he himself was. 
I remember there was a time when he didn't have money to even pay our school fees. My friends all had bicycles and I wanted one too and I was being very stubborn. So he got me one and an imported one at that because he didn't want me to feel that I was lacking anything, but he made me realise that I should look after it, he'd had to borrow money to buy it and just because I had a famous father I shouldn't think that I had a right to have the best. I wondered why he didn't have money because he was always famous. But fame and money don't necessarily go together. Similarly, he'd buy me the most expensive clothes and I'd come to know that he'd had to sell off something to be able to do so. He made us realise that we must not be wasteful. When I went to college, most of my friends had a car, so of course, I wanted one. 
The easiest thing was to go to mummy and tell her, which I did and she told papa - almost spontaneously. He took the keys of his own Fiat and handed them over to me. I was thrilled and drove the car for a few days till I realised that he was traveling by bus. That was the way in which I effectively got a smack in the face. He could've refused me and I would have revolted, but now I said 'why are you traveling by bus, buy a new car and you use the new one' and he said 'Beta, I cannot afford two cars and you must have a car so you use this!'. When I protested, he told me 'I would like you to have a car when you can afford to buy it'. Today I can say that it really is the most beautiful feeling to be able to buy a car for myself. After that, believe me, the car didn't matter to me at all, I could travel by bus or taxi without feeling anything. That was his way of driving his message home. 
He and I are both Cancerians. He was born on 22nd July 1923 and I on 27th June 1950. He was a true Cancerian. "I have a whole lifetime of memories. Yet another time, I was only 17, and I had started smoking in college. Those days everyone used to flaunt their triple five's and around that time he had gone to the States. When he returned he got me a carton of State Express cigarettes and a lighter. I was flustered. I said 'why?. Why have you bought these?'. He replied 'Son, I know that you smoke.' I was foolish enough to think that because I didn't smoke in front of him he wouldn't find out. But for a man who had so much time for his children, it was obvious that such a thing couldn't be hidden. He could've been strict, slapped me, got angry. I think I'd do that to my son, but all he said was 'Why did I have to discover through someone else that you smoke and why do you need to go out of the house to do it?' He added 'Remember that if you want to be a singer, this is not the best thing for you to do.' "That day onwards I gave up smoking. That?s the way he taught the simple things of life to us. He was not a very educated man and he was very keen that we should all study and get degrees. He saw so many dreams, particularly for me. He sent me to the London School of Economics to study and I went, but my heart was not in it and I wanted to return. I rang up and told him 'Papa, I want to sing, I want to come back.' When I did come, I must've shattered so many of his dreams apart from causing him the embarrassment of telling people that his son had returned without completing his studies. But all he said was 'Yes, I know that you want to sing and now I'm sure that you will take it seriously.' He made me feel so welcome. 
He always felt and wrote in my song books -Singing is a beautiful hobby but a painful profession?. He had seen the heartache of this profession - the pain, sometimes the rejection and he worried whether I would be able to handle it., whether I would have that dedication. "I can't hold a torch to the sort of dedication he had. He'd wake up at 5 o'clock even if he'd slept at a quarter to five and do his riyaz for a couple of hours then he'd go for a walk to Hanging Garden's. I think he'd befriended every flower in the garden. Till today when I walk there I meet at least 15 people who come up to me and say, 'We were your father's friends, the most beautiful flower in this garden has gone away?. "I do not remember even a single day of my life that I'd wake up and not find papa around. He'd give me my morning cup of milk, he could've left it to a servant but he wanted to do it himself. I try to do that for my kids, be present when they're having breakfast and share mealtimes with them. Papa loved children, Nitin was the last kid on his mind. 
I have this dear friend who lives across the road and every time he needed a haircut I'd get one. Mukeshji would fill his Hillman car with eight to 10 kids and take us for a haircut. One wonders how he found time for such mundane chores because he was an extremely busy man. He'd take us for drives and picnics. On Marine drive, I remember when they'd put the tetrapods to avoid the crashing of the waves all the kids wanted to see them and he took us. It used to be just him and a car full of kids. I don't remember any other parent doing this, he was a child at heart. "We were on this tour and I was accompanying him to have a holiday. He was full of showing me the place because he'd seen it before. He was very emotional on this tour. He was already a heart patient, but he was very cheerful throughout the tour. 
It was Raksha Bandhan in Washington and my cousins tied rakhee to him and me. Later on that day he sent me off for sightseeing and went to visit a doctor with a friend. But she was sworn to secrecy and I did not know of this till after his death. The doctor told him that he was sitting on a volcano and he needed by-pass surgery. But he had a commitment to Lataji and the organisers of the tour. So he asked the doctor if he could complete the tour and the doctor said 'Yes', so long as he'd get the operation done immediately afterwards and didn't strain too much. That was perhaps the only lease he took. He wanted to call my mother and then have the operation after the tour. On the 22nd of August we were in Montreal where he developed a slight cold but he was still cheerful, it was a dream to see my father and Lataji perform together. The audiences were eating out of their hands, literally. At that time he called for me and said ?Tu do gaane gayega?' I was very nervous and unprepared and said so. But he insisted and Lataji said 'Yes, you must sing, I'll introduce you', which she did, very beautifully saying 'Yeh Mukesh bhaiya ka beta hai, bahut honhaar hai, Mukesh bhaiya samaan hai.' Anyway I sang with Lataji and it worked.
I received a thunderous ovation. I continued singing 5 to 6 songs and when I looked at him I saw tears streaming down his face. He was so happy. He told Lataji, 'Mujhe lagtaa hai ki Nitin dal roti kamaa lega'. Those were his favourite words, for him 'dal roti' was enough. Fans surrounded the hotel. When I returned I was a bit peeved with him but he said he wanted me to have my moment. Actually he had come back to talk to my mother, to tell her of my triumph. He'd never praise me to my face but then he told mummy that 'Kisi din hum Nitin ke shows par jaya karenge' 'tumhare bete ne kamaal kar diya'. These words still ring in my ears whenever I am performing. I feel he is watching me.
On the 26th Aug we reached Detroit. We had a show on the 27th. He told me, 'Today will be the best show because it is your lucky number'. 27 is my birth number. It was our ninth show and we were on the ninth storey of the hotel. On the day of the concert he woke me at about 4.30 a.m. and said that he was going to have a shower and I should do riyaz to prepare for the evening. But when he went to the bathroom I had a premonition of something being wrong. I couldn't do riyaz. I knocked on the door and asked if he was all right and he was all right and he was a bit irritated and said 'Yes'. But in a few minutes he came out panting and asked me to put on the A.C. I called Lataji who came immediately. 
We called an ambulance and he was taken to the hospital. He kept clutching my hand and remembering his mother and my younger sister Amrita. Finally, he was wheeled in to the emergency ward and that was the last time I saw him. It was 27th August, 1976 in America and 28th August in India. I brought him back on the 30th on the same plane on which he was booked as a passenger. 
He'd promised my mother that he'd return and take her to the States for a holiday and perhaps for the surgery he'd been advised. I thought that fans would remember him for a few months, maybe a few years, then forget. But 18 years hence all I can say is that his popularity has multiplied. It is as if he has achieved immortality because of the wonderful soul he possessed.. The film industry has been immensely kind to me after his passing away - Lataji, Manoj Kumarji, Yash Chopraji all these people have been very supportive, but Raj Kapoor till he was alive, was the next father figure I had. 
He was always by me and Krishnaji is like a goddess, she advises and counsels me and is always there. This was the goodwill he had in the industry. Papa's favourite singers were Lataji and Geeta Duttji. In the earlier years he'd call Lataji by her first name but later he started calling her didi and when she protested that he was the elder why did he address her thus, he said that 'we all look up to you because of your art and I want everyone to call you didi'. 
I remember when she sang Megha chhaye adhi raat he was weeping. He was so concerned and caring about his co-singers. He simply adored Rafisaab and Kishore Kumarji. He said if Kishore Kumar so wanted, 'usne to kabki hum sabki chhutki kardi hoti'. Papa has sung the Ramcharitmanas and a number of devotional songs and listening to him I feel that if I had to listen to the voice of God this would be the voice. Such is the sanctity and the pathos of his voice. He experienced every emotion he sang of , whether it was a Jaane kahan gaye wo din or a non-filmi Pitu maatu sahayak swami sakha, tum hi ik naath hamare ho and it is the discerning listener who keeps him alive."