The single-storeyed house is as anonymous as the colony it stands in. Banaswadi is on the extreme edge of Bangalore, and the no-frills house is seemingly off the map as well. Two adopted street dogs peep out of the gate, but don?t protest the entry of a stranger. An old man ? snugly wrapped in a shawl ? opens the door. The deep-throated baritone sounds familiar as he shoos the dogs away.

Manna Dey could pass off as any government servant leading a pensioner?s life in Bangalore, with his wife and two dogs. There is complete quiet in the sparsely furnished house. Manna Dey is listening to music on his discman, as his wife prepares his evening tea in the kitchen. Only a harmonium and a few trophies on the wall cabinet give away the musical credentials of the man.

Dey ? who turns 85 this May ? is in no mood for pleasantries. It?s getting dark, there?s been no electricity in his house all day and the Bangalore weather is giving him wheezing attacks. Dey is also recuperating from a hectic trip to Calcutta, where his autobiography, Jibaner Jalsaghare, was released earlier this week.

?I find it hard to breathe in Calcutta,? he says. ?I am swamped with invitations for lunches, dinners and public functions.?

An autobiography had been the last thing on Dey?s mind, till he was coaxed by a friend to chronicle his life. Dey always believed that memoirs bring out bitterness that is best left buried. ?I couldn?t have written my memoirs without going back to certain facts that are not palatable to others,? he says.

Dey agrees there have been bitter moments by the bagfuls in his 55-year-long career in Bollywood?s cut-throat music industry. His deep voice usually kept him out of the hero?s playback post. Manna Dey?s comfort with the classical style often served a comic purpose. He got dubbed as a bhajan, classical or comedy singer. Awards alluded him ? he won his first Filmfare Award in 1971, 25 long years after he had joined the profession.

The book is peppered with little tales of a time long gone, Dey recounts how his music-director-singer uncle, K.C. Dey ? better known as Kana Keshto ? had once asked him to rehearse a song and then help Mohammed Rafi render it perfectly. The young nephew did as he was told and it was Rafi who finally recorded the song. Manna Dey writes that he was shattered, but realised years later that Rafi was really the right person for the song.

All that Calcutta-born Manna Dey knew those days was that he wanted to sing ? even though his father wanted him to be a barrister. ?I went against his wishes,? he says. After completing his graduation from Scottish Church College, he followed K.C. Dey to Bombay. He had to wait seven years before he got his first hit song in the film, Mashaal.

Since then, it?s been a musical journey of a myriad movements. Dey has sung over 1,000 songs, for every music composer of his time and in every spoken language of the country. He sang everything ?from lusty qawwalis and breezy romantic duets to intricate songs based on Hindustani classical music. ?I sang to prove a point,? he says.

Dey has his own yardstick to measure success. When Tamil Nadu chief minister Jayalalithaa was coaxed by Simi Garewal to sing on her show a few years ago, she hummed the first lines of Aaja sanam ? a Manna Dey-Lata Mangeshkar song composed by Shankar-Jaikishen. ?It felt good to hear that,? he says.

Tea is ready and Dey?s wife clears the table to make place for it. ?We still have to buy all our furniture,? she says as she lays the tea-tray down. Manna Dey and his wife moved to Bangalore from Mumbai two years ago to be with their daughter, who lives a few houses away.

Banaswadi is light years away from Mumbai. The dogs are barking at a passing vendor. The electricity is back ? ?much before its regular time,? says Dey ? before he returns to his discman. It?s playing Hits of Manna Dey.