He’s the son of musically gifted parents, Ruma Guha Thakurta and the legendary Kishore Kumar. That perhaps made the endeavour doubly tough and the encore even more rewarding for singer Amit Kumar. Having survived five decades and his songs enjoying tremendous recall value—Bade acche lagte hain being the toast of serials and shows—he’s now enjoying his stint on YouTube. Launched in 2011, the Amit Kumar official channel is making more and more music. “Right now, I have 229,803 subscribers,” he beams as he checks the statistics. “People now want independent music. I am also doing cover versions of my hits like Love Story.” While his individual path has been terrific, the resonance of his legendary father is palpable in his memories and music. “Baba was like a huge banyan tree, a one-man industry. I was going against the wind. I’m fortunate to have been able to carve out my own career. I didn’t suffer from any complex,” says the unstoppable Amit Kumar as he talks about Kishore Kumar, a voice that continues to be heard every second in some part of the world.

In Amit Kumar’s own words:

Classical music was a bouncer

In the early ’70s, I began training in classical music with Ghulam Mustafa Khan Saab. But it all was a ‘bouncer’ for me. I gave up. I started learning light classical from Satyanarayan Mishraji from the Benares gharana in 1987. He made me practise 10 thaat (scale), which I do even now.

Music entered my life around 1969–1970

I first sang at Durga Pooja functions in Kolkata. Then I began doing street shows and singing Baba’s songs. I was paid Rs 500 to Rs 1000 for that. Mom (who founded the Calcutta Youth Choir in 1958) was annoyed. She wanted me to study medicine. She called up Baba, saying, “Your son’s failed twice. The third time, he will be rusticated. He has now begun singing on the streets.” Baba said, “Very good. I like it!” He flew down to Kolkata and watched my performance at Ravindra Sadan, sitting backstage. He then asked Mom to send me to Mumbai. I was around 18. As a father, Baba did whatever he could for me. He made Door Gagan Ki Chhaon Mein (1964), sang Aa chal ke tujhe, main leke chaloon, to an 11-year-old me. Being a comedian, he was advised not to make a serious film. But the film was critically appreciated and celebrated silver jubilee. Aa chal ke tujhe was actually written by Baba, with Shailendraji tweaking it.

I faced the microphone for the first time for Door Ka Raahi (1971) when I was 13

Baba made me sit under the mango tree in this very garden and sing the song Main ek panchhi matwala, written by him. Though he cut it out in the edit, it’s still on record. Baba wrote Khushi do ghadi for the same film in the car while driving from Colaba to Juhu. When he went to Bombay Lab to record it, recordist BL Sharma asked, “Where are the musicians?” Baba replied, “Main hoon aur rabab hai.”

Soon, I began accompanying Baba to stage shows. I played the tabla and dholak and sang duets with him during shows in Holland, Canada, England, America and East Africa in the early ’70s. It gave me confidence. In 1974, he introduced me as a singer at Shanmukhananda Hall. The shows were titled Daddy Kishore Sunny Amit and went on for four years. He provided the platform to follow my dreams. But yes, he was critical of me. If I sang well, ‘Hmmm…’ was all he would say. If I went out of tune, he’d catch me. Mom’s advice was, “Remember, you’re alone in front of the microphone. Feel the song and sing it.”

I was in awe of Baba

Mom was a singer and an actress. She trained at Uday Shankar’s Academy of Creative Dance and learned classical music from Ustad Abdul Rehman Khan Sahab. She acted and sang in several films in the ’50s. She was introduced to Baba at Bombay Talkies. They got married in 1951. Mom’s mother, Sati, was the elder sister of Bijoya Ray, wife of Satyajit Ray. The Gangulys and the Rays were closely knit together. As a child, I wasn’t inclined towards music. Though I enjoyed listening to Baba’s records, one was Piya piya mera jiya pukare from Baap Re Baap (1955). I knew Baba was a star. I was in awe of him. My parents separated in 1957. I remember driving all the way from Mumbai to Kolkata in a Mercedes Benz with my mother as I went away to live with her. But my heart remained in our bungalow, Gouri Kunj, in Juhu, Mumbai. Those days, this bungalow had a slope that took you to the ground floor. Baba had a study there, which he’d beautifully designed. There were garages, too. His first car was a Morris Minor, which he bought for Rs 6,000 when he got married to Mom (1951). He was so melodramatic that after they divorced (1958), he buried the car in this bungalow itself. later seen in Shararat (1959), Jhumroo (1961) and Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi (1958). I’d come down from Kolkata every vacation. I’d delay going back and thus miss school. Mom and Baba would have arguments over that. I used to take the 5 a.m. flight from Mumbai to Kolkata. For that, I had to wake up early. When I’d put on the light to get ready, Baba, who’d be sleeping in the same room with me, would say, “Light nahi jalane ka!” He’d be crying, and he didn’t want me to see his tears.

Baba never rehearsed; he was naturally gifted

He was down to earth as a person. Baba was the most misunderstood man. Even by my mother. Though I love them both. He was a good human being. He believed in Jesus Christ. He would collect artefacts and curiosities about Shiva and Christ. Professionally too, he went through turmoil and trauma, highs and lows. He was a top actor in the ’50s, the second highest-paid actor after Dilip Kumar. He gave several jubilees between 1956 and 1959, including Bimal Roy’s Naukri (1954) and Satyen Bose’s Bandi (1957). Actually, as an actor, he was meant for Hollywood. After Aradhana (1969), he remained the No. 1 singer for 19 years.

Baba lived life king-size
People called him Kanjoos, but it’s all nonsense. Baba lived life king size. He’d say, “Duniya mujhko kehti hai paagal, main duniya ko kehta hoon paagal.” He had a unique sense of humour. Once, he didn’t want to attend the premiere of a film. His secretary, Anup Sharma, said, “You’ll have to for your career.” Baba said, “I’ll go on one condition. I’ll wear a towel to the premiere.” He sat in his open Chevrolet car in a towel. The secretary thought he was joking and would turn the car after a point. Seeing that Baba was in no mood to turn back, the secretary pleaded, “Main aapke pair padhta hoon. Let’s go back. Meri beizzati mat karwayee!” Baba retorted, “Next time, don’t force me to do anything.”

I beat Baba by winning the Filmfare Award for Love Story

My first playback number was Sapan Jagmohan’s Hosh mein hum kahan for Darwaza (1978) in the ’70s. But it was Bade achche lagte hai (Balika Badhu,1976) for Sachin, which brought me fame. It’s the cherry on top of my career, my signature song, my bread and butter song. It grew in popularity gradually. Today, it’s a household song. Aati rahengi baharein in Kasme Vaade (1978) was another well-liked song. My voice matched Kumar Gaurav’s. Yaad aa rahi hai (Love Story, 1981) won me my first and last Filmfare Award. Though Panchamda (RD Burman) joked, it sounded like a bhajan. That year, (1982), Baba was also nominated (Humein tumse pyaar kitna for Kudrat (1981) and Choo kar mere mann for Yaarana, 1981). But I beat him and won the award. The year 1981 brought fame and also Baba’s first heart attack.

I was to get married. It was an arranged alliance but it was called off because the lady was already married. Baba got emotionally disturbed. He cried like a child. I was happy to be a bachelor, though. That’s when he suffered an attack.

Through the ’80s, I gave several hits

My hits in the ’80s included Laila o Laila (Qurbani, 1980), Tu rootha (Jawaani, 1984), Dushman na kare (Akhir Kyon?, 1985), Roz roz ankhon tale (Jeeva, 1986)… Baba passed away in 1987. Call it the sympathy wave; all composers, including Panchamda, Laxmikant-Pyarelalji, etc., said, ‘We are with you’. Panchamda would say, “Whenever I compose, I think of Kishore. You come closest to him.” LP advised, “Never imitate your father. Be yourself, Amit Kumar. Retain your individuality.” I sang around 175 songs for Panchamda, but later he went through a bad time. For Anil Kapoor, I sang Kehdo ke tum ho meri varna and Ek do teen (Tezaab, 1988), Oye oye for Naseeruddin Shah (Tridev, 1989), Kaisa lagta hai for Salman Khan (Baaghi, 1990), Deewana dil deewana, and Sachhi yeh kahani hai for Shah Rukh Khan (Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa, 1993). Bole Chudiyan in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001) was another popular number. I slowed down in the late ’90s. Baba had said, “This is a topsy-turvy line. One day you’re on top, the next day you can be kicked out.” I’ve seen both the rise and the ebb. For five years, between 1987 and 1993, I was at the top. Then many clones came in. I thought I should quit now. Had I been diplomatic, I would have lasted maybe a few more years. But I don’t blame anyone. I was never in the rat race. I have no regrets. In the following years, I released music albums, including MAD, Dam Dama Dam, Jaanam and Baba Mere. I launched the Amit Kumar official channel on YouTube in 2011. Organically, I’ve reached 229,803 subscribers. The analytics reveal my compositions are doing well. I’m so proud of it. It’s connected me to my audience. I enjoy this pastime, which is bringing me rich dividends. People now want independent music. I am doing cover versions of my hits, like Love Story.

We all will perish; Baba will remain

Looking back, my father was a man of many facets, both emotional and funny. My great-grandfather had a Chrysler Champion car. He’d drive down from Khandwa in it. The car is featured in Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi (1958). All generations have travelled in it. Baba was sentimental about it. After Baba’s death, it had turned irreparable. So I had to discard it. Baba was as emotional about his hometown, Khandwa. The government has created a beautiful samadhi there. We want to build a museum there. On his birth anniversary, we have a show in Baba’s honour. Sudesh Bhosle, Bela Shende, all of us sing. I chose to sing Baba’s uncommon songs. Like this ghazal Husn bhi hai udaas udaas from Fareb (1951). I was advised against it. But I received a standing ovation. Even the musicians were surprised. It proves people are craving good poetry and melody. There’s an interesting story behind the Fareb ghazal. During the rehearsal, Rafi saab, Latabai (Mangeshkar), Talat Mehmoodji, Manna Deyji, etc. were all present. When Baba wasn’t getting it right, composer Anil Biswas told him, “Go home; you can’t get the murki. Manna will sing.” Baba felt insulted. He went home, rehearsed it, and got it right the next time. Baba had once said, “I will not be found again. People will remember me forever.” That’s so true. We will all perish. But Baba will remain.

What do you do when your happy world suddenly shatters? Sanjeeda Sheikh didn’t let the collapse of her marriage with Aamir Ali deter her. She calmly picked up the pieces, went through the divorce, won over the custody of her daughter Ayra, and continued her growth. She’s not a bitter woman raging about her ex. She doesn’t live in the past, acknowledging that everything she went through was a lesson and she trusts the turns of time. Destiny smiled on her in the form of Fighter, where she played a role meaningful to the narrative and Heeramandi, where her role as Waheeda, Manisha Koirala’s emotionally scarred younger sister was much admired. The role took much from her but she’s glad of the experience. Excerpts from an engaging interview with the actress who understands that tomorrow is another day…

You had quite a journey with your character, Waheeda, in Heeramandi. How did Sanjay Leela Bhansali influence your approach to portray such a complex role?

I am deeply grateful to Sanjay Leela Bhansali for believing in me to portray a character as intricate as Waheeda. He has this incredible ability to see what actors are capable of, often recognising our strengths before we do. His faith in my abilities has been instrumental in my growth as an actor. Working with him has been a transformative experience. Under his direction, I have learnt to trust my instincts and bring authenticity to my performances. His guidance has helped me tap into emotions and nuances I didn’t realise I could convey. Through this journey, I’ve become more confident and skilled, and I owe a great deal of that to his mentorship.

You mentioned being an instinctive actor. How did this approach shape your performance in Heeramandi?

For me, acting is all about living in the moment and creating magic spontaneously. The process of bringing Waheeda to life was a dynamic and evolving experience, largely shaped by Sanjay Sir’s meticulous guidance. His attention to detail was extraordinary; every aspect of Waheeda, from her movements to her speech, was carefully crafted to ensure she felt authentic. On the sets, Sanjay Sir and I worked closely to refine Waheeda’s character. His precise direction allowed us to explore and enhance every nuance of her personality. To fully embody Waheeda, I approached her as if she were my closest confidante. I immersed myself in her world, understanding her thoughts, emotions and motivations deeply. This intimate connection helped me portray her with sincerity and depth, making her character resonate strongly with the audience.

Waheeda has been perceived as a complex character with shades of grey. How did you navigate portraying a negative character, who elicits varied reactions from the audience?

I believe all humans are a mix of good and bad, and it’s this blend that makes us truly human. Waheeda’s complexity resonates deeply with me because she reflects real-life emotions and struggles. Her character is not undimensional; she experiences a range of emotions, from joy, love, sorrow to anger. This multi-faceted nature makes her relatable and realistic. People’s reaction to Waheeda has been fascinating because they see different facets of themselves mirrored in her journey. Some may empathise with her moments of vulnerability, while others might recognise their own strengths and weaknesses in her actions. Her story encourages viewers to reflect on their own lives, relationships, and choices. It’s this ability to evoke introspection and connection that makes her character so compelling and impactful.

You’ve admired Manisha Koirala’s work, how was your experience working alongside her?

As an actor, I have always admired Manisha’s work. I have always thought she is naturally beautiful, with a face untouched by artificial enhancements. I have seen all her films. Dil Se and Bombay are my all-time favourites. She is professional and hard-working. We often see her playing soft, bubbly characters—the girl next door. For her to take on challenging roles, especially at this stage in her career, is impressive. Watching her perform teaches you a lot. Her success is a testament to her dedication and humility. The key to success is, of course, to keep working hard while staying humble.

Moving on to Fighter, where you worked with superstars like Hrithik Roshan and Deepika Padukone. What has that experience been like for you?

While I was shooting for Heeramandi, I was called for a meeting about Fighter. I found the character performance-oriented. Though the role wasn’t long, it was strong and impactful. It’s exciting to work with actors like Hrithik Roshan and Deepika Padukone, who are among the biggest superstars in the country. They have a beautiful, humble quality about them. When Deepika comes on set, she brings positive energy with her smile and presence, making you forget she’s a superstar. Their approach creates an atmosphere that enhances everyone’s performance. For instance, there was a scene with Hrithik Roshan at a cremation ground. The scene was well-received and felt very organic and pure. We hadn’t rehearsed it because Siddharth Anand, our director, advised against it, given its emotional intensity. He told us to simply go with our feelings when he called for action. And that’s exactly what we did. The scene turned out beautifully. In acting, it’s crucial to be in the moment and not overthink your performance. You have to live the scene rather than just act it.

You’ve mentioned going through challenging phases in life. How have these experiences shaped your perspective on success and resilience?

My family has been my pillar of strength during tough times. Their unwavering support has taught me resilience and the importance of staying grounded. I’ve learnt that challenges are opportunities for growt. And I’ve emerged stronger from each experience.

You’ve emphasised the importance of financial independence for women.

Financial independence empowers women to make their own choices and pursue their dreams. It’s not just about money; it’s about mental empowerment and self-reliance. This belief has been crucial in shaping my career and personal journey. Women should know they are strong enough to take care of themselves and others around them. Many women face pressure to marry when they want to focus on their careers, unable to make their own choices about marriage. If you find a good partner, get married. In a relationship, be understanding, supportive and appreciative but never tolerate dishonesty. Honesty is a beautiful aspect of any relationship, while dishonesty is completely unacceptable.

Reflecting on motherhood, how has it impacted your life and career?

Motherhood has been a transformative experience for me. It’s taught me patience, strength and the ability to balance work and my personal life. My daughter, Ayra, is my biggest motivation and inspiration. People say it must be tough being a single mom. It’s not tough. As a mother, your duties are your duties, right? Whatever you can do for your child, nobody else can. I often tell people, “Why are you making a big deal about being a single mother?” As long as you are independent nothing else matters. The biggest secret to my success is my daughter. She wants me to do good work and it’s such a beautiful feeling. When she sees the poster for Heeramandi, or Fighter, she proudly tells her friends, “That’s my mom.” That pride she has in me is a huge achievement. When I receive an award and come home, the smile she gives me is precious. It adds immense value to the award. She also has my family around her, which is a great support system.

Are you a strict or lenient mother? Do you pamper your child?

We come from a middle-class family. My parents worked hard for us and that’s what I emphasise to Ayra. I’ve raised her normally. I don’t buy her everything she wants; I teach her that money is hard-earned and we must plan and work for what we want. It’s crucial for children to understand the value of money. I play games with Ayra to help her learn how to manage and spend money wisely. Additionally, I stress the importance of emotional bonding and expressing feelings.

Finally, what advice would you give to aspiring actors or anyone navigating challenges in life?

Trust your instincts, stay true to yourself, and embrace every phase of life as a learning opportunity. There are no mistakes, only learning experiences in life. As humans, we do what feels right at the time. If your mindset changes over time, it doesn’t make your past actions mistakes; they were right for you then. At 20, I made decisions that suited me then. Now, at 40 I’m more mature and self-aware. What matters most is how well you know yourself. Over the years, I’ve come to understand myself better. After enduring many challenges, I’ve discovered my own strength. Success comes from perseverance and staying humble. Focus on continuous improvement and enjoy the journey.