On his birthday, ThePrint will take Mukesh to the millennials with a little contest

File image of Mukesh Chand Mathur | Facebook

To celebrate the 95th birth anniversary of one of India’s greatest playback singers, we look back at some of our favourite Mukesh songs. You can send yours too.

How do I take Mukesh (not Ambani) to the millennials? It will mean nothing even to the pre-millennials if I said he was born this day in 1923 as Mukesh Chand Mathur. Or even that he was actor Neil Nitin Mukesh’s grandfather.

Or, I can borrow one of Sunil Gavaskar’s favourite stories (recorded in his memoir, Sunny Days). Bhagwat Chandrasekhar, the deadliest and most mysterious of the famed trinity of Indian spinners in his time, beat him all ends up with a googly in a Bombay-Karnataka Ranji final. The ball missed his stumps “by a whisker.” Chandra followed through and ended up looking Gavaskar in the eye. Not to stare him down as bowlers would do these days. Nor was there pain in his eyes for having missed a prized wicket. There was pure joy.

“Suna kya,” he asked Gavaskar. And the penny dropped. Somebody in the audience was playing a Mukesh song on his transistor and notes were wafting in.

Such was the mystique of Mukesh. Just like the spin trinity of Bedi-Prasanna-Chandra, Mukesh completed the trio of our greatest playback singers, with Kishore Kumar and Mohammed Rafi. He was also the most understated and the least prolific. But much of his work endures, beginning with ‘Awara Hoon’, the theme song for Raj Kapoor’s 1956 Awara.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kY0ffAaCk8&feature=youtu.be

Generations in the old Soviet Bloc and Middle-East have hummed this. If you are asked to name just one thing that represents India’s soft power over six decades, it will be ‘Awara Hoon’. It was Raj Kapoor’s persona for sure, but no voice other than Mukesh’s would give it that lethal innocence and vulnerability. And from the same vintage, ‘Mera Joota Hai Japani’ (Shree 420, 1955).

Mukesh is particularly challenging for the millennial because he died in 1976, at 53. It’s one of those awful tragedies of India’s film music that none of its greatest male trinity lived up to 60. But may be one from his last hit score will ring a bell: ‘Kayi Baar Yun Hi Dekha Hai’ from the 1974 release Rajnigandha which got him the national award.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPwbi-hfenI&feature=youtu.be

Or, two from the Amitabh Bachchan-Rakhee starrer Kabhi Kabhie (1976): ‘Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein Khayal Aata Hai’ and ‘Main Pal Do Pal Ka Shaayar Hoon’.

Or, two from the Rajesh Khanna-Amitabh Bachchan masterpiece Anand (1971): ‘Kahin Door Jab Din Dhal Jaaye’ and ‘Maine Tere Liye Hi Saat Rang Ke Sapne Chune.’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmYT79bYIQw&feature=youtu.be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SC8DuvNCjbY&feature=youtu.be

As for some of the rest, let me indulge myself with my own Mukesh favourites. There is ‘Bahut Diya Dene Waale Ne Tujhko’ from the 1963 Soorat Aur Seerat with a young Dharmendra and Nutan. And ok, millennials, it was composed by Roshan, Hrithik’s grand-dad.

Or ‘Aa Ab Laut Chalein’ from Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai (1960).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8Fu_O7y-dg&feature=youtu.be

and ‘O Jaane Waale Ho Sake To Laut Ke Aana’ from Bandini (1963).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDbwkKDWJ-4&feature=youtu.be

There are many more. But let me list just seven, in different periods. ‘Dost, Dost Na Raha’, the ultimate song of self-pitying betrayal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PY5AMJtMY3A&feature=youtu.be

The naughty ‘Bol Radha Bol Sangam Hoga Ke Nahin’ from Raj Kapoor’s Sangam (1964).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9a-ONy8iGNQ

‘Taaron Mein Saj Ke, Apne Suraj Se’ from V. Shantaram’s quaintly named Jal Bin Machhli, Nritya Bin Bijli’ (1971)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oda9FVVIPyE&feature=youtu.be

‘Main Na Bhoolunga’ with Lata Mangeshkar from Roti, Kapda Aur Makan (1972)

And of course my last two from Teesri Kasam (1966) that I can hear twice a day, each day. ‘Duniya Banane Waale’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTkb5myMUes&feature=youtu.be

And ‘Karamwa Bairi Ho Gaye Hamaar’.

As with Kishore and Rafi, some names will keep popping up in his filmography. He was Raj Kapoor’s voice and kept his best for him. And if you combined his voice with music by Shankar-Jaikishan, Kalyanji-Anandji or Salil Chowdhury, and lyrics by Shailendra, the result was pure magic.

If you are a Mukesh fan too, you will complain that I have missed out too many of his best. But he sang 1,300 of them, and I had to draw the line at some place. So why don’t you send us a selection of your ten best (besides the ones I have listed here) and mail to us with links, and ideally a line explaining why it’s your favourite? We will publish what our editors reckon are the three best selections.

Each chosen winner will get gifts worth Rs 5,000. Please mail us at  [e-mail] and don’t forget to mention your address so we can send you your prize.