On June 2, 21 years ago, an unusual moment on live television became an emotional announcement of loss. A news anchor abandoned the script and began singing the first line of ‘Main tere ajnabi shehr mein.’ Viewers were stunned by the raw, spontaneous tribute that revealed the passing away of the beloved singer Mujeeb Alam.

This moment speaks of the deep cultural impact Alam had. He sang for films for just a few years, his discography was modest, yet his voice and his few but unforgettable songs left an impression that has outlasted many with far larger bodies of work.

Born on September 2, 1948 in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, Mujeeb moved to Lahore in the 1950s. His journey to recognition was anything but smooth. Though he started singing at a young age, his voice — described as a rare blend of Muhammad Rafi’s sweetness, Ahmed Rushdi’s emotional grit and Mehdi Hassan’s technical control — was rejected by Radio Pakistan over five times. Yet his persistence paid off and, later, pundits would claim his was the voice that was perfect for playback singing in films.

He went on to become one of the last voices to grace the silver screen for legendary actors such as Muhammad Ali, Nadeem, Kamal, Darpan, Waheed Murad, Yusuf Khan and even Ejaz. In an era of fierce competition and towering giants in music, Mujeeb Alam carved out a space that was uniquely his, marked by emotional depth, vocal mastery and timeless charm.

Mujeeb started singing in his teens at public functions. Picked from there, the first song that brought him into the limelight was the slow, soulful Khalil Ahmed composition ‘Main khushi se kyun na gaoon’, filmed on Muhammad Ali for Himayat Ali Shair’s Lori (1966). The song caught the attention of leading music directors, putting him firmly on the radar of the film industry. In 1967, he won his only Nigar Award for the melodious ‘Woh mere saamnay tasveer banay baithay hain’, picturised on Nadeem in his debut film, Chakori.

Mujeeb Alam passed away on June 2 over two decades ago but he carved a space in playback singing that is uniquely his, marked by emotional depth, vocal mastery and timeless charm

A frequent collaborator with composer Sohail Rana, Mujeeb showcased his expressive range through a variety of moods and emotions in his songs. He conveyed longing and anticipation in ‘Tum ne waada kiya tha’ from Maa Beta (1969), a sense of vengeance in ‘Zara tum hi socho’ from Dil Deke Dekho (1969), gentle romance in ‘Tum se mil kar’ from Saughaat (1970), and heartfelt yearning in ‘Hai beqaraar tamanna’ from Mere Hamsafar (1972), where he pleaded for the beloved to stay.

In A.J. Kardar’s Qasam Uss Waqt Ki (1969), he not only performed the title track but also rendered ‘Iss dhoop kinaray’ and a memorable version of Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s iconic ‘Raat yun dil mein teri khoyi hui yaad aayi’, which would later be famously revived in PTV’s classic drama, ironically titled Dhoop Kinaray (1987).

Many still think that it was Ahmed Rushdi who rendered ‘Yun kho gaye tere pyar mein hum’ for Waheed Murad for Afsana (1970), though it was Mujeeb. In fact, such was his range that composer Nisar Bazmi also had Mujeeb re-sing the famous ‘Main tera shehr chhorr jaoonga’ after rejecting the version sung by Mehdi Hassan. The song was later adapted in Bollywood, where Kishore Kumar attempted to convey the same angst and pain for Rajesh Khanna in Nazrana (1985), but his rendition fell short of capturing the original’s emotional depth.

It would be interesting to know that, in Shama Aur Parwana (1970), Nisar Bazmi used Mujeeb for as many as six songs. Besides ‘Main tere ajnabi shehr mein’ and ‘Main tera shehr chhorr jaoonga’, all other songs also became equally popular. With A. Hameed, he also had a fine association in Yeh Aman (1971), Gharnata (1971), Dosti (1972) and Jawab Do (1974).

Mujeeb was equally at ease singing duets. Remarkably, he was born at a time when Madam Noor Jehan was already revered as the Melody Queen — yet his very first duet was with her. Listening to him sing ‘Saathi kahaan ho, awaaz do’ for Laakhon Mein Aik (1967) still gives listeners goosebumps.

Singer Tasawwar Khanum fondly recalls that her very first song was also a duet with Mujeeb Alam — a memory she still cherishes. In his short yet huge film career, Mujeeb shared the microphone with legends such as Naseem Begum, Mala, Runa Laila and many others, holding his own with grace and confidence even in the company of greats.

By 1970, Mujeeb Alam had become a favoured choice among music directors, often sought after for delivering something distinctive. However, the changing landscape of the film industry, marked by the ‘fall of Dhaka’ and the loss of East Pakistan, the dominance of Punjabi films with fewer male solos, and the rise of new vocal talent, prompted him to relocate permanently to Karachi. By the mid-1970s, most of the composers he had worked with had either left the industry or moved away, ending his film career.

Yet, the emergence of colour television turned out to be a blessing in disguise. With a strong catalogue of hits, Mujeeb Alam reinvented himself — performing for Radio Pakistan and PTV by day, and entertaining audiences at private events by night. His vocal resemblance to Ahmed Rushdi was so striking that, when doctors advised Rushdi to refrain from singing in the 1980s, Mujeeb was chosen to record songs composed by Ahmed Rushdi himself. The songs can be heard on Spotify in the album Mujeeb Sings for Rushdi, and it is pure nostalgia.

Mujeeb was last heard in films in the 1980s, when he sang ‘Tumhe dekh kar mujh ko’ for Waheed Murad in Maang Meri Bhar Do (1983) and a couple of songs in Syed Kamal’s Siyasat (1986). However, he continued to sing outside of films. His last performance on TV was in Sangam (1993) for the private channel NTM, where he accompanied a winner of the Music Challenge programme for the very first duet of the latter’s life on ‘Saathi kahaan ho’.

Mujeeb Alam left this world in 2004, at the young age of 55. But true artists never really die. His voice — rich with emotion, longing and timeless beauty — lives on in the songs he once poured his soul into. Though he is no longer among us, every note he ever sang still continues to whisper his name, ensuring that he is never forgotten.

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 6th, 2025