A Voice That Lingers in the Heart in Loving Memory of KK

 

West Bengal especially Kolkata has long held a sacred connection with music. It’s a land that has given rise to some of the subcontinent’s most iconic voices: Kishore Kumar, Kumar Sanu, and Krishna Kumar Kunnath, fondly known as KK. My own roots connect deeply with Kolkata as well. Before the Partition, my grandfather was posted there, and our family likely had a home in that city. Even today, some utensils made in Kolkata rest quietly in our home quiet witnesses to a forgotten chapter of our story.

Much like my bond with the city, my relationship with music has always been intimate. Not just as a listener, but as someone who breathes with melodies. The 1990s were a golden age a time when Indian and Pakistani music gave voice to youth, love, and rebellion. From “Dil Dil Pakistan” to A.R. Rahman’s Roja, from Jagjit Singh’s ghazals to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s qawwalis, every note carried life. And then, as we stepped into a new millennium, there came a voice new, yet oddly familiar KK.

KK was more than a singer. His voice didn’t just perform it felt. He didn’t just sing songs; he transformed them into lived emotions. I’ve written about many great singers and composers before, but today, it feels deeply personal to write about KK. In 2007, during a music concert in Dubai, I had the rare chance to meet him. That moment so brief yet so precious included a photo with him. But fate had other plans. The memory card in my Nokia 6600 malfunctioned, and the picture was lost forever. Yet, what remains imprinted is the voice, the moment, the emotion still echoing in my heart.

From a young age, KK’s song “Chhod Aaye Hum Woh Galiyan” from the film Maachis became a constant companion a hauntingly beautiful melody that felt like home. KK entered Bollywood in 1996, at a time when Kumar Sanu and Udit Narayan dominated the charts, and Sonu Nigam was rising. His breakout hit “Tadap Tadap Ke” introduced him to the world with a voice that dripped in pain and longing. That song earned him his first award and sealed his place in the hearts of millions.

And then came “Sach Keh Raha Hai Deewana” a song that defined my school days. I still remember playing it on repeat while racing through Need for Speed on our home computer. KK’s magic didn’t stop there. He sang in films like Gangster, Bhool Bhulaiyaa, and Life in a… Metro each song carving itself into people’s memories. “Beete Lamhein” was one of my late father’s favorite songs, and today, it brings tears as easily as it once brought peace.

In college, KK’s songs became milestones in my life. “Dilnashin Dilnashin,” “Tu Hi Meri Shab Hai,” “Labon Ko Labon Pe Saja Lo,” and “Jhoom Barabar Jhoom” they weren’t just songs; they were journal entries set to melody. I remember vividly listening to “Kya Mujhe Pyaar Hai” live in that same Dubai concert, sitting right in front of him. His voice filled the hall and my heart with something indescribable.

Then came the film Jannat in 2008, and with it, the song “Zara Sa Dil Mein De Jagah Tu.” That track didn’t just resonate it rewrote an entire phase of my life. Even now, “Dil Ibaadat Kar Raha Hai, Dhadkanein Meri Sun” brings back a moment in 2009, sitting in the restaurant of Avari Hotel, lost in a sea of feelings only KK could articulate. His romantic ballads were not just about love they were love itself, whispered straight to the soul.

KK was the soundtrack of our emotions. Whether it was the farewell ache of “Alvida” from Life in a… Metro or the dreamy confession of “Khuda Jaane,” his voice carried sincerity that few could match. Sadly, the rise of new singers like Arijit Singh and the politics within the music industry meant that KK like many was sidelined. Music directors, preferences, and commercial bias impacted many voices. As I’ve written before about Nadeem-Shravan, Amit Kumar, and Kumar Sanu, the industry’s internal games have often come at the cost of true romanticism in music.

In 2022, we lost this luminous star. KK left the stage but not our hearts. If the '90s taught us how to feel music, KK gave us a home for those feelings. His voice was honest, vulnerable, real and that’s why he will never truly be gone. The echo of his songs, the warmth of his tone, and the soul in his singing will always stay with us.

KK was not just a singer.
He was the voice of everything we ever felt but couldn’t say.

Amjad Zafar Ali
June 2025, Kasur


 

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