Rafi listened only to Manna Dey songs

His voice shone like a belowari jhaad.
“Mana, please get me a cup of tea!” the blind singing star Krishna Chandra Dey would tell his nephew Prabodh Chandra, barely past 10. Sometimes, KC De would admonish: “That’s not the way to sing this Mana!” Through all such endearment, and before he was 13, was born a singer named Manna Dey. And on October 24, 2013, when the lights went out of his life, music lovers realised once more that Manna Dey is for all times, all ages.
Through 1940s, 50s, 60s, 70s, our film music was enriched with the voice of K L Saigal, Pankaj Mullick, Mohd Rafi, Talat Mehmood, Hemant Kumar, Kishore Kumar, Mahendra Kapoor, Yesudas. But how many had the versatility that expressed itself in Manna’s Chale Radhe Rani, the Vaishnav Padavali bhajan from Bimal Roy’s Parineeta, to the raga-based Laaga chunri mein daag? From the heart wringing Ae mere pyare watan to the playful Ek chatur naar? From the teasing Ke tumi nandini to the Aaj raate aar jatra shunte jabona? From the mellow Aami je jalsagharer belowari jhaad to the nostalgic Coffee houser shei addata aaj aar nei? Who but Manna could en-trance a Papi Bichhua? Not for nothing did Rafi say, “People listen to my songs, but I listen to only Manna Dey’s songs.”
Music has, since the early years of cinema, been an important pillar of Indian film’s popularity. And ever since playback singing was introduced by New Theatre, certain voices have tended to become the soul of characterisation by particular actors. So, if it was Dilip Kumar on screen, the off-screen rendition would be Rafi’s, and if Raj Kapoor was emoting, Mukesh would be pouring out the notes. But Manna Dey defied the rule to become the voice for every notable face in the pantheon of Indian cinema - from Balraj Sahni to Mehmood, Raj Kapoor to Rajesh Khanna, Raj Kumar to Dharmendra and Uttam Kumar to Soumitra Chatterjee.
Indeed one cannot think of Raj Kapoor without Yeh raat bheegi bheegi, Pyar hua iqrar hua, Dil ka haal sune dilwala, Ae bhai zara dekh ke chalo, Jeena yahan marna yahan. Balraj Sahni is immortalised by Dharti kahe pukar ke, O mere zohra zabeen, Tu pyar ka sagar hai. Raj Kumar by Jhanak jhanak tori baje payaliya. Rajesh Khanna serenaded life with Zindagi kaisi hai paheli. Mehmood stole hearts with Manna’s Chatur naar. Dharmendra vowed friendship unto death with Yeh dosti. Uttam Kumar was Antony Firingee courtesy Manna while Soumitra Chatterjee became Sri Sri Bhajahari Manna…
He broke so many Dos and Don’ts of playback singing, Shantanu Moitra once pointed out. Don’t show off your vocal dexterity lest the actors look stupid, they tell Bollywood singers. Surely a classical singer can’t sing for a silly comedian, they’d say. How dare a playback artiste team up with a maestro like Bhimsen Joshi, to sing Ketaki Gulab Juhi? And then devalue his training by singing duets with the quirky Kishore! How can you infuse the melody of Hindustani ragas into the framework of pop music? Manna Dey did all this, and with so much verve that every singer that aspired for the popularity of Lata Rafi Asha Kishore had only one model when doing their riyaaz – Manna Dey.
He did more. He rendered the Kabuliwala song, or Jeevan se lambe in Ashirwad, or Kaal ka pahiya in Chanda Aur Bijlee that were essentially the director’s comment replacing a voice-over or lip-synch. That gave him scope to fill the words with mellifluous filigree. Yet, such was his dexterity that it never distracted the viewers – they were completely overpowered by the emotion of the lyrics. The vocalist who could, and did, wrestle in a ring, never had to compromise on lyrics, style or professionalism, Kavita Krishnamurti once said. In doing so he raised the standard of music in Indian films. And when the music industry was flooded by Wannabe Kishores and sound-alike Rafis, there were no cover versions of Manna Dey.