Music director and singer Hemant Kumar belonged to two cities—Bombay gave him fame, and Kolkata gave him peace. In the late 1940s, during his early years in Hindi cinema, he struggled to find success and would often retreat to Kolkata, where he felt most at ease. It was filmmaker Sashadhar Mukherjee who first spotted his potential in Bombay and took on the responsibility of convincing him to stay.
“He (Kumar) used to always run away to Kolkata. That’s where he felt most at peace, with his family. S. Mukherjee once joked, ‘You can go to hell, but first give me one hit song in Hindi,’” Moushumi Chatterjee, an actor and the daughter-in-law of Kumar, told ThePrint.
Kumar worked with legends like SD Burman and Guru Dutt, yet never chased the spotlight. Even when he became the first Indian to score an international film with Siddhartha (1972), global acclaim didn’t change him. He famously turned down the Padma Bhushan award because it came too late.
He gave voice to Dev Anand’s charm in Yeh Raat Yeh Chandni in Jaal (1952), was the music director for Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962), and created unforgettable scores for films like Nagin (1954). Whether singing a Rabindra Sangeet in Bengali or composing for Hindi cinema, Kumar moved effortlessly between worlds, leaving beauty behind in both.
At the height of his success, Kumar could have embraced the trappings of fame, but he did his best to steer clear of the spotlight. Those close to him remember a man who stayed grounded. He was soft-spoken, gentle, and deeply rooted in his values.
Today, Kumar’s songs still fill the homes and hearts.
A legend rooted in simplicity
Though Hemant Kumar was born in Varanasi on 16 June 1920, he was raised in Kolkata. His identity was deeply intertwined with Bengal—its language, music, and spiritual essence. His Mumbai home in Khar, Gitanjali, became a second Kolkata for countless visiting Bengalis.
“Anyone coming from Calcutta was always welcome to stay with us for free,” Chatterjee said. “Interestingly, Mithun Chakraborty, who shares the same birthday–16 June–also extends the same warmth to Bengalis. Both of them open their homes generously, welcoming guests with open arms. That similarity between them is truly remarkable.”
Kumar was a devout Sanatani, always dressed in a dhoti and kurta. Even on international travels, he wore trousers and a coat only when absolutely necessary. Known for his gentle nature, Chatterjee said that he rarely expressed anger–if hurt, he would often break into tears quietly.
This vulnerability wasn’t a weakness but a profound strength that infused his music with deep feeling. Whether it was the haunting lullabies of Bees Saal Baad (1962), the tender romance of Anupama (1966), or the soul-stirring solos of Nagin, his songs carried the weight of his heart.
Kumar didn’t chase mainstream trends; he redefined them. Though his early years in Mumbai met with lukewarm responses, he stayed true to his vision. More than a singer or composer, he was a master storyteller. His collaborations with legendary filmmakers like Guru Dutt, Bimal Roy, and Tarun Majumdar showcased his deep understanding of how music could elevate cinema.
Yet, his loyalty remained firmly with his roots, often returning to Kolkata to create Bengali music and films.
“He knew what he wanted out of life,” said Chatterjee. “He never compromised the gift he was given. Originality and simplicity were everything to him. He had a sharp eye for genuine talent.”
That clarity made him a mentor to many. Chatterjee fondly recalled how Kumar initially doubted her ability in Balika Badhu (1967) but, after seeing her perform, kissed her forehead and said, “You are not just good, you are too good.”
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Rise and resonance
Kumar’s breakthrough in Hindi cinema came with the hit Yeh Raat Yeh Chandni from Jaal, which made him a household name. Directed by Guru Dutt and starring Dev Anand, Jaal was one of the first Hindi films to feature an anti-hero, and Kumar’s voice perfectly captured the complex emotions of Dev Anand’s character.
Jaal marked his emergence as an independent composer-singer, leading to a flood of collaborations–especially with S.D. Burman.
Before that, Hemant Kumar composed for Anand Math (1952), a patriotic film based on Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay’s novel. Though the film wasn’t a major hit, its Sanskrit-rooted soundtrack featured the iconic Vande Mataram, sung by Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar. The song gained lasting popularity and was later ranked among the BBC’s “Top Ten Songs of All Time.”
More than a singer, he was a composer with a literary instinct.
“He was drawn to films adapted from novels. His most celebrated composition was for Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962), adapted from Bimal Mitra’s Bengali novel. It was totally iconic, perfectly matching the film’s haunting mood, shot in the Gothic palaces of Dhaniakhuria near Calcutta,” Rajeev Srivastava, filmmaker, writer and photographer, said.
This affinity for literary adaptations extended beyond Indian novels. Kumar also composed music for Bees Saal Baad (1962), inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles, and Kohraa (1964), based on Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca.
In the 1950s, director Shakti Samanta collaborated with Kumar on detective thrillers, where his eerie melodies added emotional depth to the mystery genre. Samanta later gave Chatterjee her big break, reportedly on Kumar’s recommendation. “Off-screen, he was a liberal father-in-law at a time when most actresses were expected to leave the profession after marriage,” said Srivastava.
While the Hindi film industry adored him, Kumar was equally beloved in Bengali films, especially for his long partnership with Uttam Kumar.
“From the 1950s itself, he sang for so many Uttam Kumar films,” said Srivastava. “They were hugely popular, with Kumar’s music becoming synonymous with Uttam Kumar’s on-screen presence.. He defined an era in Bengali playback.”
Even after a stroke in the 1980s ended his singing career, Kumar’s legacy endured–not just through melodies but moods of memory, longing, and restraint.
Until his final days, Kumar remained true to his core values–family, music, and devotion. He passed away in Kolkata, the city he loved most. In an age of loud, fleeting celebrity, Hemant Kumar remains the rarest kind of icon—one who will forever be heard.
(Edited by Ratan Priya)