The sudden death of playback singer Krishnakumar Kunnath because of a heart attack evoked a flood of tributes from grief-stricken fans. But few of us knew much about this modest man who deliberately steered free of Bollywood’s glitzy allure. Here’s a tribute to his far-too-brief life.
Researched by: Sara Varghese & Prafula Grace Busi
The concert: The singer was on a two-day tour in Kolkata—and performed at the Nazrul Mancha auditorium on Tuesday night. The concert was packed to the gills—with 7,000 people squeezed into a venue that has a capacity of 3,000 people. Given the crowd jostling outside, the doors to the auditorium could not be closed. And as a result, the air-conditioning was not working. KK was seen sweating profusely—and asking the staff to turn up the ACs:
It is not clear if the heat was a precipitating factor, but KK was already feeling unwell during the concert.
Point to note: The arrangements at the auditorium have become fodder for political jousting—with the BJP and other opposition leaders demanding an investigation. There was also chaos outside the venue—as management sprayed a fire extinguisher at crowds trying to enter without a ticket:
The last moments: KK was feeling unwell during the concert—and rushed from the venue:
En route to the hotel, he complained about feeling cold in the car. At the hotel lobby, he was mobbed by fans, but pulled himself away to go upstairs—where he fell to the floor. KK was then rushed to Calcutta Medical Research Institute (CMRI) where he was declared ‘brought dead’ by doctors at 10 pm. He likely died on the way. It isn’t clear why the decision was made to take him to the hotel instead of the hospital after the concert.
Cause of death: according to the preliminary postmortem is a heart attack—aka myocardial infarction. Cardiologists suspect he likely had an undiagnosed coronary artery disease—and the concert may have triggered the fatal attack:
“During stage performances, an adrenaline rush is very common. This increases blood pressure and the pulse rate. In case of a heart attack during such a performance, the damage to the heart muscle can be faster compared with a person suffering the attack in a resting position.”
Video of note: Here’s a clip from his last performance:
A born musician: Born in Delhi in 1968 to Malayali parents, he began singing right from the age of four. KK’s strongest musical influence was his family:
“I am one of those guys who have a natural affinity for music. I was born into a musical family: my grandmother was a music teacher and my mum used to perform. I picked up music from an early age and I learned songs and sang them. I loved performing in front of my family and friends and I really enjoyed the applause.”
KK never received a formal musical education—calling himself a “bathroom singer.” He dropped out of music school within a few days, realising he had no real need for it: “From the beginning, I was able to learn a song by just hearing it, it is something that I’ve been blessed with.”
The winding road to Bollywood: KK graduated from Kirori Mal college—where he formed a band. But his first job after college was a salesperson—which he quit after six months with the support of his family and wife. But he started his musical career composing and singing advertising jingles. Watch him talk about getting his first paycheck:
He ultimately sang 3,500 jingles over the span of his career, but it was poor consolation for a man with far bigger dreams:
“It was a very stagnant existence that I was leading. I was doing jingles, producing jingles, advertising, and all that. But there was only that much I could do. I was getting to a dead-end.”
And that’s when his wife Jyoti pushed him to move to Mumbai in 1994—and he credits her as the driving force behind what would become a hugely successful Bollywood career.
The love story: KK met the love of his life—Jyoti Lakshmi Krishna—in sixth grade. And he wooed her with Kishore Kumar songs—specifically ‘Pyar Deewana Hota Hai’: “Jab maine usko pataya tha to yahi gana gaya tha (I wooed her by singing this song). I remember I used to sing this song at my colony's annual function every year.”
They eventually got married in 1999. More amusingly, Jyoti was far less impressed with his singing than the rest of the world:
“The sad part is, I sing songs at home all day and she tells me ‘please yaar don't bother me now’. It happens very often. And I tell her ‘don't you know how many people wait for me to sing outside? Girls even try holding me when I go for the shows.’ I lie to her. That does not happen too often. She's like ‘Please do not bug me.’”
Below is a photo from their wedding:
KK made his Bollywood debut in Duniya Dilwalon Ki in 1996—singing ‘Hello Doctor dil ki chori ho gayee’ for AR Rahman. The first hit also came the same year: ‘Chod Aaye Hum Voh Galiyan’ in ‘Maachis’—which he sang alongside Hariharan, Suresh Wadkar and Vinod Sehgal.
But his breakthrough year was 1999—when he released his first album and scored big with ‘Tadap Tadap’ in the Salman Khan-starrer ‘Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam’. At the time, KK told composer Ismail Darbar: “Ismail bhai, yeh gana toh main gaa hi nahi sakta hoon. This is not my style of singing.” Yet the final result as so moving, it made everyone cry—including director Sanjay Leela Bhansali and Salman Khan—who banned it from being played on the set, saying: “Mereko yaar bohot takleef hoti hai jab yeh gaanaa sunta hoon toh” (I feel uncomfortable when I hear this song).
But, but, but: KK’s ambitions were always bigger than Bollywood—and he preferred releasing his own albums to playback singing:
“The songs you sing in playback are not really yours; they are from the movie. But it was really fun to be part of different movies and sing different genres of music. It helps an artist mature. I used to do a lot of playback but I thought that I could not make too much use of my artistic expression so I wanted to do my own thing. As an artist, I need to create more of my own music.”
And he also said this:
“I don’t want to restrict myself by being someone’s voice. I don’t want to be XYZ’s voice. I never aspired to that as a child. Even when I got into the field (music), I never thought that I’ve to sing for so-and-so actor… It’s my passion to sing songs that has got me where I am today. It’s not about being related to a particular star. I never wanted that because then you are stuck with that.”
A sprawling musical career: KK has sung close to 500 songs in Hindi and more than 100 songs in Telugu, Tamil and Kannada. In fact, his voice is as big a part of Tamil pop culture of the 2000s—and his big hits include ‘Appadi Podu’, from ‘Ghilli’ (2004) which was played at clubs and weddings alike:
And as many have pointed out, it is a misnomer to call him a 90s singer. KK was delivering hits even in 2019—when he sang ‘Kal ki hi baat hai’ for ‘Chhichhore’.
A man of mystery: KK was very open about his desire to stay unseen—and relatively unknown. He never showed his face in music videos—preferring to remain “mysterious”:
“If you just hear a song and don’t see (the singer), you can imagine and make your own stories. So, sometimes I feel that not being seen is better. I would rather have people listen to my voice and relate to it in whichever way they want to.”
And he was never drawn by the allure of Bollywood’s glitzy version of fame:
“I have never been to any parties, not even to save my life. I have gotten so far with my sheer ability to sing. That's all I've had. I like if my song is appreciated, but I am not dying to know how many have recognised me. That's never been my trip. I am a reclusive kind of a guy, I get uncomfortable when there's a crowd, except when on stage. I feel like I am Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde kind of guy. I don't know how that happens, but I just transform on stage.”
Ironic point to note: Despite a prolific career, KK has won only one award: The Screen Award in 2008.
The Guardian has a good overview of his life and career. Firstpost offers a detailed look at his songs. The Telegraph has more on the postmortem. Al Jazeera looks at what went wrong at the concert.
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