He was always the singer of the masses, with his astonishing achievement of nine hits for every 10 recorded songs, and is spoken of, perfectly deservingly, in the same breath as colleagues like Mohammed Rafi and Kishore Kumar, legends whose tally of recordings was in multiples of Mukeshchand Mathur, singer extraordinary and human being exemplary.

It will be 25 years on August 27, since the radio and TV announcers uttered those fatal words one evening - "Mukesh is no more." On this poignantly historic occasion, let us imagine a rare compilation -- an LP record, audio cassette or CD set - that showcased this unparalleled artist.
Quite obviously, such a compilation must first set the ‘record’ straight to be a well-rounded collection. The album set will therefore begin with what was undeniably Mukesh’s first recorded song, Dil hi ho bujha hua to from the 1941 release Nirdosh (Ashok Ghosh), written by Neelkanth Tiwari and filmed on the handsome singer himself. And equally for the ‘record’ on cassette and CD, the last track must be that haunting number which Mukesh taped at Tardeo’s Famous, on the way from home to airport, for that fateful USA concert tour from which he never came back -- Chanchal sheetal nirmal komal, for Laxmikant-Pyarelal and Shashi Kapoor (on screen) in Raj Kapoor’s Satyam Shivam Sundaram. How aptly did Destiny engineer his swan-song for the banner that is almost synonymous with him -- RK Films.

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And Destiny gave RK and Mukesh a full hand in the final chapter of their memorable bond -- even Mukesh’s last song on stage was reportedly Jeena yahaan marna yahaan (Mera Naam Joker) which has to be a part of such an album. Few Shanker-Jaikishan-Raj Kapoor-Mukesh combos matched the perennial simplicity of this song.

Mukesh died in 1976, but the last of the films in which he sang -- Naukri, Chor Mandali et al -- were released in the early 80s. Besides SSS, there was however nothing much to sing about in the songs various composers were giving him at the fag end of his career, which included hits like Tumhari Kasam, Mukti and his multi-singer collaborations for multi-starrers like Dharam Veer, Amar Akbar Anthony, Imaan Dharam and Aahutee. Instead, one would choose that wonderful underdog of a song, Chahe aaj mujhe napasand karo (Darinda/Kalyanji-Anandji/1977), which brought back the Mukesh of two more classics of yore that demand inclusion, Aa laut ke aaja mere meet (Rani Rupmati/S.N.Tripathi) and K-A’s own Chandi ki deewaar (Vishwas). Says son Nitin, "At that point, people say that my father’s voice had became tired. That wasn’t true. Composers were making songs that were too high-pitched for him. The Darinda song was a beautiful exception."

But then Kalyanji-Anandji and Mukesh always shared a special bond. It was Kalyanjibhai, remember, who had taught an unforgettable lesson to a classical maestro, who had ridiculed Mukesh’s success despite what he termed his limitations. The maestro quietly picked up the harmonium and told the Ustad to sing Chandan sa badan (Saraswatichandra). After the ‘master’ failed to inject even the rudiments of the magical emotion that Mukesh had imbibed it with, Kalyanji told him, "This is the reason why he travels in an Impala while you ride a bus." This historic and all-round magnificent song automatically gets included in a ‘historic’ fantasy album as the one song that dwarfs most of K-A’s other formidable beauties with Mukesh.

But Kalyanji’s example cannot detract from Mukesh’s unquestioned ability to take a song tailored for him through impossible musical convolutions and raag-daari. It was Mukesh and Mukesh alone who could infuse that special soz and sur into wondrous creations that were extremely difficult vocally, and no record of Mukesh would be thus complete without the challenge of S.N. Tripathi’s Jhoomti chali hawa (Sangeet Samrat Tansen), the seductive curves and angles of Nain hamare saanjh sakaare (Annadata/ Salil Choudhury) and the deceptively simple, but very abstruse twists and turns of Usha Khanna’s Aaj subah nahin hone wali (Hum Hindustani).

But then Mukesh was Mukesh for every composer -- from titans like Shanker-Jaikishan and Laxmikant-Pyarelal, to classicists like Naushad and Roshan, to smaller or anonymous composers like Daan Singh (My Love), Brij Bhushan (Milap) and Prem Dhawan (Shaheed). What else explains the fact that one of Mukesh’s most brilliantly rendered object d’art of all time was for the unknown Satish Bhatia in a V.Shantaram film, Yeh kaun chitrakaar hai (Boond Jo Ban Gayi Moti)?

And speaking of that pioneering legend among filmmakers, how can we eliminate Shantaram’s spell-binding musical and choreographic extravaganza Jal Bin Macchli Nritya Bin Bijli? As the first ever Indian album released in Stereophonic Sound (in 1971), it had Mukesh as the only male voice singing, with incomparable magnificence, Laxmikant-Pyarelal’s awesomely orchestrated Taaron mein sajke apne suraj se dekho dharti chali milne, and two other spectacular duets with Lata Mangeshkar. Yes, Mukesh was as much in sync with stereo as he was with the 1945 song that got him his very first recognition -- Dil jaltaa hain to jalne de (Pehli Nazar/Anil Biswas).

Pehli Nazar, for all Anil Biswas’ claims of making Mukesh "forget" the Saigal influence, was completely Saigal-esque in tenor. The first celebration of Mukesh sounding like Mukesh, and no one else came when Ram Ganguly brought about his entry into the RK portals with Zinda hoon is tarah (Aag), that pristine paean of pain. Followed S-J’s Barsaat (1949) and Roshan’s own breakthrough film, Bawre Nain (1950). That Raj Kapoor, the actor, was the prime factor responsible for getting Mukesh out of the Saigal groove is a personal observation. Composers may have tried with varying success, but the fiery, intense and modern persona of Raj Kapoor could not have possibly jelled with a sonorous Saigal-like voice. And the RK-Mukesh bond peaked as early as Awara hoon (Awara/S-J ) in 1951, to herald India’s first cult song and filmi gaana to taste huge and lasting success in far-off USSR.

The RK-Mukesh team, especially in conjunction with Shanker-Jaikishan, had hits and masterpieces galore, but to me two songs stand out as all-time classics in this legendary oeuvre -- Aa ab laut chalen (Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai) and O mere sanam (Sangam), coincidentally both collaborations with Lata. None of the RK-Mukesh numbers can hold a candle, I think, to the sheer beauty of these spell-binders.

But Mukesh was by no means a complete echo of the phenomenal RK. He sang for everyone, and everyone knows that Dilip Kumar signed Mela and Yahudi only after hearing its recorded Mukesh numbers played out to him. To me the Dilip-Mukesh team, is epitomised, however, less by these films or Andaz, but by the sheer exuberance of one of Mukesh’s most-spirited numbers, Suhana safar aur yeh mausam haseen (Madhumati/Salil Choudhury). Here were two past masters of romantic tragedy setting out new parameters to the joy of living!

Yes, indeed Mukesh had much more to him than just Raj Kapoor and the sad song. Laxmikant-Pyarelal always had a special place for him and gave him lots of variety -- and two more of their songs are a must in any authentic Mukesh representation, Saawan ka mahina (Milan), the song that brought Mukesh back into the reckoning in 1967 from his career’s last trough, and the devotional that surpasses all his film devotionals, Jyot se jyot jagaate chalo (Sant Gyaneshwar). And probably even more than S-J, it was this duo that gave us the sweetest, most intensely melodic Lata-Mukesh duets, whether in Roti Kapada Aur Makaan, Gora Aur Kala, Dharti Kahe Pukar Ke, Jal Bin..., Farz or that one song that is as immortal as its singers and composers -- Ek pyar ka naghma hai (Shor).

Indeed, Manoj Kumar and Mukesh came up with scores that matched Raj Kapoor in melody, if not in proliicity or popularity, and Mukesh was the voice of Rajesh Khanna, Jeetendra and even Rajendra Kumar in some of their finest numbers for an assortment of composers. And speaking of composers, how can we forget that Mukesh was lucky for so many of them -- he dominated S-J’s first film Barsaat, sang in Laxmikant-Pyarelal’s first film Parasmani, and dominated the breakthrough scores of L-P (Milan), K-A (Chhalia and Himalay Ki God Mein), Roshan (Bawre Nain and Malhar) and Khayyam (Phir Subah Hogi and Kabhi Kabhie). On the other hand, even composers who did not have much time for him, usually came up with their choicest compositions for him -- like S.D. Burman (O jaanewale/Bandini) and O.P. Nayyar (Chal akela/Sambandh).

As we come to the finale, we have a tough time selecting the last two Mukesh masterpieces from a sea of superlative sangeet. Should we choose the one song for which he won a National award, or, since this has been an emotional journey down memory lane -- do we choose a song that aptly mirrors our sentiments to a singer like him on such an occasion? Unable to make a choice at this climactic moment, we offer a double whammy -- Salil Choudhury’s Kayi baar yoon hi dekha hai (Rajnigandha), for which Mukesh won his only National Best Playback Singer award in 1975, and that one classic that best encapsulates our feelings towards him today, in Raja Mehndi Ali Khan’s exquisite Anita number, composed by L-P in semi-classical mode, Tum bin jeevan kaise beeta poocho mere dil se/Poocho mere dil se.

—Rajiv Vijayakar