Would you believe my father took his first step towards becoming a playback singer at a wedding in Delhi? That too as a baraati? It so happened that the great Motilal, who had blazed the yesteryear screen, was an invitee at the wedding and, obviously, the baraatis wanted to impress him. The onus fell on my father, who was known as the local K L Saigal.

My father, who was only 16 then, was not too keen about the idea. Also, he was rather embarrassed at the thought of performing before the famous Motilal. However, when everyone coaxed him, he agreed. And Motilal was suitably impressed. So much so that he immediately asked the young Mukesh Chand Mathur to accompany him to Bombay. With no formal training in music, it seemed a very big step for a young boy to take…

My grandfather, who was a government servant, was, surprisingly, very supportive of my father's decision. He let him go to Bombay with Motilalji. This, despite the fact that my father was the sixth child in a family of 11 children, and my grandfather was not very well-to-do in those days.

But when my father came to Bombay, Motilalji took complete care of him. He paid for his music classes, allowed him to stay at his house and treated him like his son. Motilalji had only one condition: he told my father he would not use his contacts to help him get a break in the music industry. Which was okay with my father.

Accordingly, my father got his first break on his own. The year was 1951. Music director Anil Biswas offered him the chance to sing one song for the film Pehli Nazar. Dil jalta hai to jalne de was an overnight success. And the spotlight focused sharply on the 18-year-old debutant singer.

Raj Kapoor and Mukesh

Though this song made him famous, my father continued to face many ups and downs in his career. Then, he met Raj Kapoor. The meeting happened quite by accident at Ranjit Studios. But I have always believed that a meeting between these two great people was ordained by the heavens.

Raj Uncle was a great admirer of my father's voice and wanted to sign him on as playback singer for his film. My father readily agreed. The first song my father sang for Raj Uncle was Zinda hoon main for the film, Aag.

There are many people in the film industry who have helped my father in many ways. But there was one person who could, with my father, share the onus of having taken him to the realm of legends -- that person is Raj Kapoor.

Many of my father's critics insist he lacked versatility. I find it difficult to agree with them. It is true that my father had been typecast as the perfect voice for sad songs. If Dilip Kumar was the tragedy king of cinema, then Mukesh was the tragedy king of singers. But he is the same person who has sung nimble, happy numbers like Dum dum diga diga and Ramiya vata vaya. Does this show lack of variety?

It was not that my father got to sing more songs than his contemporaries. But, somehow, the song to which he lent his voice would turn out to be the most popular song in the film. Kati Patang, for example, has many good songs sung by good singers. But the most memorable song in the film is Mukesh's Jis gali mein tera ghar na ho balma.

Amongst his contemporaries, my father’s favourite singer was Mohammed Rafi. He loved Rafisaab's voice, and believed that nobody could replace him.

My father belonged to an era that boasted of many talented singers. It was a time when you could not say one singer was better than the other. Just as each singer had his strengths, so also each singer had his weaknesses. My father was a very gifted singer, I believe this talent was God's gift to him. Besides, he was also blessed with good luck.

He was special, because he always sang straight from the heart. He was a very sensitive human and he possessed a fine sense of humour. My father was a family person who made it a point to spend time with his children. After a long day at the recording studios, he would still oblige us if we wanted to go out for a movie, an ice cream, etc. He was everyone's favourite uncle, taking my four brothers, my sister and our friends for outings and picnics regularly.

My father was a man who was filled with the joy of living and lived his life to the fullest. Sadly, he died when he was only 51 years old. But in those 51 years, he gave people memories that would remain fresh with them for more than a hundred years.

My father was very thoughtful, even as far as the servants were concerned. Whenever he travelled abroad, he would bring gifts for our domestic servants, the lift man and even the watchman.

There were plenty of ups and downs in my father's life, but they did not really bother him. He used to say that a person can't achieve success without suffering hardships. He used to hate it whenever people asked him what his favourite songs were. And, though he never mentioned it, I think his favourite songs were his first song Dil jalta hai and Jane kahan gaye vo din from the film Mera Naam Joker. He simply loved that song, he used to sing it very often.

He was very happy when I sang my first couplet for Mera Naam Joker. The couplet was filmed on Rishi Kapoor. But he would always warn me, "Singing is a beautiful hobby, but a painful profession."

Today, I feel sad about the fact that people compare me to my father. My father was a legend, and legends do not lend themselves to comparison. If I had replaced my father in the minds of the people, you would not have been here to interview me about him. Instead, you would talk to me about my work, my songs. As an artiste, I feel my father is irreplaceable.

Mukesh (third from left) with friends

He did not mind me singing any of his songs, except for Jane kahan gaye woh din on which there was a blanket ban. I remember the first time I sang this song -- it was 22 years ago, on August 25. He was on stage in Toronto, singing this song, when he began to feel very uncomfortable. So he asked me to complete the last couplet. I was surprised, but did what he said. Even Lataji was present on the stage.

Little did I realise then that the world had witnessed his last performance.

On August 27, 1976, we were busy preparing for the show in Detroit. He had just woken up from his siesta, and complained of feeling uncomfortable. At 4.30 pm, he told me to call a doctor. He did not want me to inform Lataji, who was also part of the show that was scheduled for 6 pm. Even in that condition, he was considerate about her feelings -- he did not want her to be upset.

I did not know what to do. I was alone and terribly frightened. I started crying because I could not bear to see his state. He tried to assure me that nothing would go wrong. At the same time, he was very insistent that Lataji should not be disturbed. But I did not know who else to run to for help.

Lataji rushed to help us. Despite the best efforts of the doctors, he did not pull through. And he passed away when the clock ticked 5.50 at Detroit. Thus ended the saga of a legend called Mukesh Chand Mathur, the boy who came to Bombay at the age of 16. Today, his voice reigns in houses, coffee shops and dhabas all over India. He is still alive, 22 years after his death, in the sheer magic of his voice.