Growing up, my earliest musical memories are laced with the voice of Kishore Kumar—an Indian cultural icon whose voice defined an era. For those unfamiliar with him, Kishore Kumar was not just a playback singer in Indian cinema; he was a phenomenon. A maverick with unmatched versatility, emotional depth, and effortless charm, he could make joy sound infectious, heartbreak sound poetic, and every note feel personal.

I remember sitting with a basic tape recorder, rewinding his songs endlessly—trying to understand the nuance in his phrasing, his spontaneous flourishes, his pauses. I didn’t just listen to Kishore Kumar—I studied him. I rehearsed those songs again, just to grasp the emotion behind the words.

He wasn’t my idol because he was perfect—he was my idol because he was fearless. He broke classical rules yet earned the respect of purists. He sang with raw, unfiltered soul and he entered the industry, untrained. It was through these songs—through Kishore—that I found my first vocal-chords.

In community halls, college festivals, and eventually on professional stages, I began singing his and others’ classics. Slowly but surely, I became known not just as someone who admired, Kishore Kumar — but as someone who could interpret his spirit with honesty.

Even today, every time I perform, I think a part of him sings with me.