The anguish of “Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye” and the lilting playfulness of “Sar Jo Tera Chakraye”, one filmed on the intense Guru Dutt and the other on a goofy Johnny Walker, in “Pyaasa” have that one connect – Mohammed Rafi.
The brooding poet Vijay Babu and the genial Abdul Sattar in the film “Pyaasa” are separated by their outlook and romance for life but brought together by the genius of the singer who would have been 100 today.
Many playback singers have voiced different moods in different songs in the same film. But none perhaps with the same depth and range as Rafi, who gave expression to the two ends of the emotional and vocal spectrum with so much finesse.
More than four decades after he died, he is the singer on millions of playlists, a song and more to match every mood, season and even if there’s no reason. There are countless who still wake up to Rafi and perhaps end their days with him.
Such was his effortless versatility that he moulded his voice to suit the personality, timbre and pitch of every leading man he sang for. And so, he was equally at ease showcasing the exuberance of Shammi Kapoor in “Tareef Karoon Kya Uski” or the languid romantic Dev Anand in “Abhi Na Jaao Chhod Ke”, the intensity of Guru Dutt in “Dekhi Zamane Ki Yaari” or the longing of a Dilip Kumar in "Aaj Puraani Raahon Se".
Who else really could match the heady highs of “Yahoo!” to the desperate depths of “O Duniya Ke Rakhwale”.
He sang over 5,000 songs in a four-decade career, a songography that is so extensive it is difficult to take stock of at one go.
The beginnings of arguably the greatest playback singer were humble.
Born in 1924 as ‘Pheeko’ to a family with limited resources in Punjab’s Kotla Sultan Singh, a few kilometres from Amritsar, Rafi actually started earning money as a barber when he was 20 something.
There is an oft-repeated story about how his musical talent came to be recognised.
It is hard to separate fact from fiction at this point but it is said that a fakir used to frequent the village. He would sing songs for alms and a curious Rafi would follow. It was not difficult for the young boy to pick up the tunes, who would sing out loud to the villagers.
Rafi’s son Shahid Rafi recounted this anecdote in an interview with PTI. "One day, the fakir asked him, ‘Do you remember my song’? Abba said, ‘Yes’. The fakir liked his voice and said, ‘One day, you will become a very big man’." Rafi's father decided to relocate the family from the village to Lahore, a big city and the centre of movies and culture in undivided India. That is where he started working as a barber along with his elder brother Mohammed Deen.
The music carried on alongside. Rafi’s brother supported him in his musical endeavours. Rafi learnt Hindustani classical music under the guidance of Ustaad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and Abdul Wahid Khan at a young age.
It is believed that music director Shyam Sunder discovered Rafi while he was at the barbershop and heard the young singer humming in Lahore and decided to give him a break in the 1943 Punjabi film "Gul Baloch".
And then in 1944, the young Rafi arrived in Bhendi Bazar in the city of dreams Bombay with Hameed, a friend of his brother who played the crucial role of his manager in his early days.
The penury didn’t last too long as he was discovered by composers and filmmakers at the 'mehfils' K L Saigal frequented. The word spread fast.
The first success came with his duet "Yahan Badla Wafa Ka", picturised on Dilip Kumar and Noor Jehan, in the 1947 film "Jugnu". And if you want to see Rafi on screen, that’s where you will get to see him singing his own song.
Within a few months of arriving in Bombay, Rafi sang “Hindustan Ke Hum Hain”, in AR Kardar’s “Pehle Aap”, composed by Naushad.
The legendary composer initially put Rafi in the chorus and paid him Rs 10.
According to “Mohammed Rafi: Golden Voice of the Silver Screen” by Shahid Rafi and Sujata Dev, after recording “Hindustan Ke Hum Hain” Naushad noticed Rafi’s bleeding feet due to tight shoes. When Naushad asked why he didn’t say anything, with a smile Rafi replied, “Hum wo gana jo ga rahe the (It was just that I was singing).” The singer-composer duo went on to complement each other’s work in more than 40 films, creating gems like “O Duniya Ke Rakhwale” in “Baiju Bawra” (1952), “O Door Ke Musafir” in “Udan Khatola” (1955), “Dukh Bhare Din Beete Re Bhaiya” in “Mother India” (1957), and “Madhuban Me Radhika” in “Kohinoor” (1960).
The 50s gave Rafi opportunities to showcase his dynamic range.
He sang more than 1,400 songs in nearly 600 films in the 1950s. There was barely any actor, music composer, lyricist and filmmaker who hadn’t worked with Rafi by the end of the decade.
Films like “Do Bigha Zameen” (1953), “Naya Daur” (1957), “Pyaasa” (1957), “Mother India” (1957), “Yahudi” (1958) and “Kaagaz Ke Phool” (1959) made Rafi the undisputed king of melody.
The intensity of Rafi’s singing in “O Duniya Ke Rakhwale” in “Baiju Bawra” was such that it gave birth to a rumour that he started to bleed from his throat due to singing at an impossibly high pitch.
The 50s and 60s was also the time Rafi expanded his portfolio by accepting a new challenge - acting through his voice in songs that demanded a touch of humour here and a pinch of mischief there.
The light touch of Johnny Walker in “Yeh Hai Bombay Meri Jaan” and “Sar Jo Tera Chakraye”, and Shammi Kapoor’s “Badan Pe Sitare" and "Oh Haseena Zulfon Wali" reflected through Rafi’s voice in a way that responded to the character's on-screen antics.
The versatile singer sang the largest number of songs for these two actors - 190 for Shammi and 155 for Johnny - in their respective categories.
His understanding of music, his vocal range, and a humble demeanour made him a favourite of the leading composers of all time, including SD Burman, Khayyam, Shankar-Jaikishan, O P Nayyar, and Laxmikant-Pyarelal.
The singer, who was known for his gentle demeanour and easygoing nature, led a quiet and private life. The career, however, wasn’t without a few bumps on the way, including run-ins with Lata Mangeshkar and OP Nayyar. But the artistes eventually mended their disagreements and worked together.
His career of 40 years was cut short by his sudden death in 1980 at the age of 55. The funeral procession in Mumbai saw tens of thousands of mourners crowd the streets as his cortege passed through, possibly the largest ever the city had seen.
"Tum Mujhe Yun Bhula Na Paoge", Rafi sang to great effect. That rings just so true, and not just on his 100th birth anniversary.
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