On Mohammed Rafi’s Centenary, we shatter the Great Myth about him!

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December 24, 2024 marks the centenary of a giant—Mohammed Rafi. It is the perfect occasion to debunk a monstrous myth about him!

In late 1969, a film called Aradhana swept the nation. So, separately and together, did Rajesh Khanna, Kishore Kumar and S.D. Burman. A half-year later, R.D. Burman rode piggyback on Mohammed Rafi for his final breakthrough, The Train. He signed a glut of films that had Kishore dominating the soundtrack. It was another matter entirely that Rafi had two major hits in Aradhana alongside the three Kishore numbers and that Kishore even came in because they could not wait as Rafi was on a concert tour and filmmaker Shakti Samanta suggested that SD opt for Kishore as the film was being made on a timeline. And also that Rafi was the only male singer in The Train apart from a gimmicky song sung by R.D. himself.

By mid-1971, Rafi became ‘sidelined’ in the Kishore wave. Distributors wanted him, and Rajesh Khanna had become big. Kalyanji-Anandji shifted largely to Kishore Kumar, Shanker-Jaikishan too were forced to do so, especially after Jaikishan’s death, as Jaikishan loyalists (the pair had split in the late 1960s) shifted mostly to RD.

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Laxmikant-Pyarelal, too, were compelled to strike a balance, as they were always Rafi-oriented. By early 1973, the arrival of the degenerate tradition of “music sittings” (of composers displaying their wares, as in a shop) completed the case for the media – Rafi is passe!

This state of affairs was reversed only in 1977. Kishore Kumar, banned by the Congress during the Emergency regime, lost his solo supremacy chronologically coincident with the end of his persecutors’ reign. As the nation celebrated the return of democracy, Laxmikant-Pyarelal and— ironically—R.D. Burman, backed respectively by Manmohan Desai and Nasir Hussain, sculpted a comeback for the man who was not only a Colossus among singers, but, by nature, virtually a saint.

It is relevant to mention here about Naushad recalling how a depressed Rafi informed him about his plans to quit in the mid-70s when the Kishore wave had peaked. Luckily, Naushad’s advice was heeded: the veteran composer told Rafi that he should think of quitting only when (not if) he returned to the top.

Rafi’s son, Shahid, also informed me that a few months post-Aradhana, the great singer had finally gone for Haj, where religious clerics had castigated him for doing music, which was sacrilegious to Islam. Said Shahid to me, “They told him that he was sinning against Allah by singing in films! Being very God-fearing, my fathr went to London instead of coming back and stayed there for almost six months with my brother Hamid, thinking of quitting music until my brothers told him, ‘Dad! Go back! Music is what you were born for. You are no businessman and you cannot work for anyone else.”

Added Shahid, “My father was one of the earliest singers to start doing shows, way back in the 1950s. From the late 1960s, he had started doing a lot of them, and there would be at least one annual trip to USA, UK and Canada. London and even Amsterdam were his compulsory venues. Every tour would take six to eight weeks, and no one waited for any singer that long. These were the more likely explanations that my father’s recordings reduced in the early and mid-70s rather than just a Kishore Kumar wave. There was this incidence where one hero refused to shoot, because a song was to be recorded by some other singer since my father was leaving for a tour. My father had to oblige and learn and record the song very fast before he left for the tour!”

All this shows the extent to which the great Rafi myth was perpetuated, and believed in, ironically even by Rafi-saab himself. Today, years after he left us, it is time overdue to shatter this myth once and for all. Let’s take a comparable example. Amitabh Bachchan always did lesser films than Jeetendra did, and Dilip Kumar did fewer films than Bachchan. But this did not make the more prolific star the most successful!

By the same yardstick, the reduction in Rafi’s visits to the recording studios did not necessarily imply that Rafi was down. And ironically, it was the high quantum of Rafi songs in the pre-Aradhana phase that helped fuel this myth. Mukesh, Mahendra Kapoor and Manna Dey too were affected—but since they sang less in any case, they were not declared ‘finished’. Rafi was!

But in actual fact, it was during this 1971-76 period that Rafi’s standing almost paralleled Mukesh’s, for Rafi got a greater than ever percentage of hits. Take the two Burmans—the men supposedly responsible mainly for this mythical eclipse. To think that the otherwise sagacious Burmans would completely neglect Rafi would be as much an insult to Dada’s and Pancham’s prodigious talents and rock-hard convictions as to Rafi’s monumental talent.

Taking the senior first, S.D. Burmans oeuvre with Rafi during this period included two of their most lustrous collaborations ever: Mera man tera pyaasa (Gambler) and Teri bindiya re (Abhimaan), along with Woh kya hai (Anuraag), the soulful Ae mere man (Us Paar) and the fun song Sa re ga ma (with Kishore) in Chupke Chupke.

Pancham, of course, could not side-step Rafi’s virtuosity when he needed the perfect earthy tang for Mela (Rut hai milan ki, Ek baar rakh de, Gori ke gaath mein) and Caravan (Kitna pyaara vaada, Goriya kahaan tera des, Chadti jawaani). It was also during this media-created exile that Pancham took inspirational base from the title-track of the Hollywood comedy If It Is Tuesday It Must Be Belgium to fashion one of his most enduring songs of all time, Chura liya hai tumne (Yaadon Ki Baaraat), despite the Kishore dominance in the score.

And if that sounds as if Pancham never did him solo justice, cast a thought towards such nuggets as Rekha o Rekha (Adhikar), Ek pate ki baat sunaoon and Koi aur duniya mein (Pyar Ki Kahani)—incidentally the first two songs ever lip-synched by Amitabh Bachchan—and O jaan-e-jahaan (Chhalia).

There were some more examples that perhaps did not make it to the pop charts, like Aa raat jaati hai (with Asha in Benaam) and Kaahe ko bulaaya (with Lata in Humshakal) and we could perhaps add Pyar hai ek nishan qadmon ka (Mukti), but the fact is that RD knew only too well which side his Rafi bread had to be kept buttered!

And if the Burmans alone could be so good to Rafi, what of L-P and S-J, who were completely Rafi-aligned? Think S-J and we had Andaz, Jawan Mohabbat and Patanga (as scores) as well as individual triumphs like Unke khayaal aaye (Lal Patthar), Joode mein gajra (Dhoop Chhaon), Chirag kiske ghar ka hai (Ek Nari Ek Brahmachari), Humko to jaan se pyaari (Naina) and Teri neeli neeli ankhon ke (with Lata in Jaane Anjaane)—and that’s only the cream.

Laxmikant-Pyarelal of course, flooded Rafi with a string of winners, apart from Rafi-dominated scores like Mehboob Ki Mehndi and Aap Aaye Bahaar Ayee. The other memorabilia included Koi nazrana lekar (Aan Milo Sajna), Kuch kehta hai yeh saawan (with Lata in Mera Gaon Mera Desh), Ke aaja teri yaad aayi (with Lata and Anand Bakshi in Charas), Patta patta boota boota (with Lata in Ek Nazar), Reshma jawan ho gayi (Mom Ki Gudia), Na tu zameen ke liye (Dastaan), Main ek raja hoon (Uphaar), Yeh zulf kaisi hai (with Lata in Piya Ka Ghar), Aaj mausam bada beimaan hai (Loafer), Tere naam ka diwana (Suraj Aur Chanda), Koi phool na khilta (Paise Ki Gudiya) Banda parvar main kahaan (Pocketmaar), Doston mein koi baat (Prem Kahani), Main jat yamla (Pratiggya) and many more. Even in the Kishore-dominated Jaaneman, it was Rafi who was brought in for the qawwali, Iss mulaqaat ka bas mazaa lijiye.

Such was Rafi’s gentle clout even in this so-called exile that he made an impact even with small composers and lesser films, lending substance and even a permanent place in history to such names as Thokar composers Shamji Ghanshyamji (Apni aankhon mein basaakar), Milap composer Brij Bhushan (Kahin aisa na ho), Ek Nari Do Roop composer Ganesh (Dil ka suna saaz tarana dhoondega) and Khoon Khoon composer Vijay Singh (Maati ke jalte Deepak).

During this phase, Rafi would often do what Mukesh did to him in the earlier days—steal the thunder with the single song he sang in a film. Thus we had Rafi upstage multiple Kishore numbers with one Nafrat ki duniya (Haathi Mere Saathi for L-P), Mera man tera pyaasa (Gambler for S.D. Burman), Waada kar le saajana (with Lata under K-A in Haath Ki Safai), Zamane ki aankhon ne (O.P. Nayyar for Ek Baar Mooskura Do) and Din hai yeh bahaar ke (Usha Khanna for Honeymoon). Add Ganesh’s title-track from Ek Nanhi Munni Ladki Thi¸ and Usha Khanna’s timeless Teri galiyon mein (Hawas) and we know that Rafi was far from ‘over’.

Rafi’s effortless brilliance was thus spotlighted again and again in this so-called dull phase, in a spell-bindingly variegated buffet spread that also included lovely duets like Ek daal par tota bole (with Lata) and Paon mein dori (with Asha) in Ravindra Jain’s Chor Machaye Shor, Kalyanji-Anandji’s Yeh raat hai pyaasi pyaasi (Choti Bahu), Madan Mohan’s Tum jo mil gaye ho (Hanste Zakhm), Tumse kahoon ek baat (Dastak), Jis din se maine (with Asha) and Arey hansnewalo (both from Parwana) or those lovely K-A duets like Chal diye tum kahaan (with Asha in Ek Kunwari Ek Kunwara), Diwane hai diwano ko (with Lata in Zanjeer) and Ho tumse door rehke (with Lata in Adalat).

Rafi and range were synonymous, and it was there in all its resplendent array in two of his chart-smashers during this phase: Sonik-Omi’s Dharma qawwali, Raaz ki baat keh doon (which had coins showered on the screen during the sequence) or that hijra hit, Saj rahi gali meri maa which jet-propelled the debut-making Rajesh Roshan’s career amidst multiple Kishore numbers in Kunwara Baap, becoming the top Binaca Geet Mala countdown song for 1974. Both were benchmarks in their genre in the 70s.

We also had Rafi giving Ravindra Jain the sole lingering ace in his debut, Nazar aati nahin manzil (Kaanch Aur Heera), and for a struggling Bappi Lahiri, Rafi ended up singing three steeply melodious songs—Kaisa hai naseeb tera (Paapi), Saathi re gham nahin karna (Ikraar) and Allah hi dega (Sangram). Of course, Rafi won Bappi’s everlasting respect and gratitude when he told the nervous composer while recording Nothing is impossible from Zakhmee, “You are nervous because you are recording with the Kishore and the Rafi. But one day you will be known as the Bappi and new singers will be similarly nervous about recording with you!”

Rafi, and down? Haven’t we heard that titans go down only in history?

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