A record player and a set of vinyl records were my first introduction to music in the early ’90s.
Among the set were a few records of a voice hauntingly beautiful and evocative. But it was also a voice that may have got lost in the towering shadows of Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhonsle.
That voice was of Aarati Mukherjee, who turned 82 today.
The record player and the vinyl records, a prized possession I still have at home, were a gift from an uncle.
For years I thought Do Naina aur Ek Kahani was a Lata Mangeshkar song (her presence was so heavy in Hindi film music) from Shekhar Kapoor’s debut film Masoom (1983). Rahul Dev Burman’s compositions and Shabana Azmi’s poignant portrayal remain strongly etched in our memories and so does Do Naina aur Ek Kahani — a mother, a wife with her two daughters, captured in one frame.
Mukherjee’s rendition brought an emotional depth that lingers four decades later. The song went on to earn her several awards as well.
But to celebrate Aarati Mukherjee only for Do Naina would be to overlook a rich, seven-decade-long musical journey that transcended languages, genres, and generations.
Mukherjee began her playback career in Hindi cinema with Sahara (1958). While her foray into Hindi music opened doors, it was in Bengali music that she truly flourished.
One of her early hits was Madhobi Modhupey Holo Mitali from Deya Neya (1963), a song that cemented her as a rising star in Bengal’s musical firmament. Just two years later, she delivered the classical Bhairav bandish Mera Dukhua in Subarnarekha (1965), composed by Ustad Bahadur Khan for the Ritwik Ghatak film.
In a 2015 interview with ABP, she revealed that Ghatak had even offered her an acting role in the film, but she declined, fearful that acting might distract her from her primary passion: singing.
Mukherjee’s strength lay in her versatility. Equally at ease with classical, semi-classical, bhajans, and tappa, she stood out in a musical era dominated by titans.
Just as Bombay had the formidable Mangeshkar sisters, Lata and Asha, Kolkata too had its own stalwarts — Pratima Banerjee and Sandhya Mukhopadhyay.
Yet Aarati carved her own space, thanks to her emotional range, and effortless command over pitch.
She worked with maestros such as RD Burman, Hemanta Mukherjee, Nachiketa Ghosh, Shyamal Mitra, Sudhin Dasgupta, Tapan Sinha and others.
On screen, her voice accompanied some of Indian cinema’s most iconic actors — Suchitra Sen, Tanuja, Rakhee, Aparna Sen, Madhabi Mukhopadhyay, Shabana Azmi, Moon Moon Sen and Sarika.
In Bengali, her voice graced an array of evergreen songs, including Tokhon Tomar Ekush Bochhor, Bonyo Bonyo E Aranya, Ami Miss Calcutta, Ek Chor-e te Thanda, (both from the evergreen comedy Basanta Bilap) Ei Mom Jochhonay, Na Bole Eshechhi, Laaje Ranga Holo Ranga Bou, Lajja Mori Mori, and Jaa Jaa Behaya Pakhi Jana (for a young Jaya Bhaduri in Dhanni Meye).
These songs showcased her ability to move seamlessly from romantic ballads to peppy numbers.
Though her volume of work is higher Bengali music, Mukherjee has over 70 songs in Hindi cinema to her credit.
Highlights include Saara Mora Kaajra Churaya Tune (Do Dil, 1965), Shyam Teri Bansi (Geet Gaata Chal, 1975), and Do Panchhi Do Tinke (Tapasya, 1976, a duet with Kishore Kumar). Each of these songs bore her distinct imprint — an emotional sincerity paired with technical finesse. She has also sung in Gujarati and Odia languages.
In a career that spanned more than six decades, Aarati Mukherjee never courted fame aggressively. She let her music speak instead — quietly, powerfully, and lastingly.
Today, as
she turns 82, we celebrate not just the voice behind a beloved lullaby, but a
life immersed in melody, discipline, and grace. Aarati Mukherjee’s songs
continue to echo through time — an enduring testament to the quiet brilliance
of a remarkable artist.
(The writer is a former journalist)