Why was Kishore Kumar banned? - Susheel Gajwani
Channel: Susheel Gajwani
Date: 24/03/2016

Kishore Kumar, timeless, forever………

2016…..the  young and peppy seem to be the bandwagon FM stations and commercial jingles want to ride on to attract listenership and eyeballs, but he is still the epitome of youth. He is Kishore Kumar, the genius.

The radio channel producers talk with deep admiration about the phenomenon called Kishore Kumar. 

Just imagine. What if Kishore Kumar had refused to sing for Rajesh Khanna and had gone  back to Khandwa, not very fond of an industry, where actors would feel insecure after witnessing him overshadow everyone with his genius, in the remake of a Bengali film Pasher Bari?  Called Padosan in Hindi.

The one-man-industry  straddled decades through the magnetism of Rajesh Khanna's smile and Amitabh Bachchan's towering baritone and ushered in full-throated masculinity in Hindi cinema .

Kishore Kumar was a megastar,  a showman, the only charismatic genius Indian cinema has ever had. The greatest entertainer ever, whose voice enthralled audiences for years, has no worthy successor. He didn't need stagecraft, costumes, fancy surround sound. All he needed was a scale , preferably C, and a microphone. And you could be a doctor at the front row of a  Kishore Kumar show, or NRIs in the U.S. or  the soldiers on the borders. You would dance with him spontaneously. 


Kishore Kumar had freedom in his voice. An Emergency tried banning him. The industry lobbied to get him back into the studio because without him, heroes would lose enthusiasm, composers would scratch heads, producers would think twice before investing and record companies would not record without him. The reason why he came back stronger is because he didn't care. He was one road trip away from leaving everything and going back to Khandwa to be amidst his plants, nature and his childhood memories.

A man of an unfathomable genius lived in our times, and he should have been honoured with Bharat Ratna. 

Kishore Kumar was a sufi. He was prepared to drop everything and just take off. Disappear. And be with himself and nature.

Bimal Roy signed Kishore Kumar to play the jobless hero in Naukri. But Salil Chowdhury sought Hemant Kumar’s vocals. Kishore rushed to Chowdhury’s music room at Mohan Studios, Andheri, Mumbai, only to be rebuffed: “But I have never heard you before…” Kishore Kumar began to sing, but Chowdhury cut him short, saying: “You don’t know the ABC of music.”
Kishore, pursuing his case, later went to Chowdhury with records of two of his best songs — “Marne kee duaaen kyun maangoon” (Ziddi, 1948) and “Jagmag jagmag kartaa niklaa” (Rimjhim,1949). Chowdhury dismissed both as “laboured”. It was only after many others put in a word that Chowdhury relented, though under protest,“This Kishore lad is no singer, I tell you”.
Ejghteen years later, the same Sali Chowdhury stood transfixed as Kishore created magic with his composition, “Koee hotaa jis ko apnaa”, in Gulzar’s Mere Apne (1971). “I salute Dada Burman  for spotting the spark in the boy,” he said. Equally interestingly, Hemant Kumar, who almost became Kishore’s voice in Naukri, chose him to sing his immortal composition, “Woh sham kuchh ajeeb thi” in Khamoshi (1970).
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