Sonu Nigam: Life in the Eye of a Hurricane

Today, Nigam is the most sought after voice in Bollywood and it’s not just the National Award that vouches for this. All of Shah Rukh Khan’s biggest chartbusters right from the Pardes era to Main Hoon Na’s college boy days have been credited to Nigam. And Yash Chopra’s next big production Veer Zaara, Anil Sharma’s Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Saathiyon, Gurinder Chadha’s Bride and Prejudice, Vikram Bhatt’s Elaan, Amitabh Bachchan-starrer Waqt, Aishwarya Rai-Sanjay Dutt flick Shabd and Anupam Sinha’s star-studded boys-to-men flick Dus, all have Nigam in the lead playback list.

It’s been more than a decade since he moved to Mumbai. And the National Award was long overdue—Border, Refugee, The Legend Of Bhagat Singh… Nigam’s taken the deaf ears in his stride. ‘‘This has been the most eventful year of my life—a near death experience during a bomb blast in Karachi when I was there for the Indo-Pak concert, my sister’s baby, my uncle’s sudden death because of a heart attack, the National Award and the fact that my wife and I are no longer living together,’’ rattles Nigam, stopping for a breather. Quite a yearful. Of course, he packs in title tracks of most big banner films, on an average at least 50 shows and 1,000 recordings a year (that’s four recordings a day). And until something ‘‘incredulous’’ happens, Nigam plans to just keep singing.

But what is his USP? Speed. ‘‘Music directors don’t want a singer who spends three-four hours learning a song. All I spend is half an hour,’’ says the pop artiste, whose next album should be ready in five months. And he’s not exaggerating. At a recording at Mumbai’s Tune Studios, music composer Jeet (of the Jeet-Preetam duo) is ecstatic. Nigam may not know the language, but he delivers a Bengali song syllable for syllable and note for note. After he has written down the pronunciation on his music sheets and discussed the song’s meaning with Jeet, Nigam wraps up the recording in 35 minutes flat.

The Mach-III pace of life extends to other areas as well. Nigam SMSes at the speed of thought (‘‘I’m the fastest SMS junkie, I don’t even look at the screen”), drives on autobahns abroad at 230 kph, works out for five hours a day, and changes his look at least once a year.

Maybe speed is also his tranquilliser. ‘‘Strangely, I want nothing from life now,’’ he says. The Lama-like demeanour is the aftermath of intense three-hour yoga classes at four in the morning and reams of philosophy readings on flights. ‘‘I’m no longer the boy with the short fuse,’’ he says, waving at someone who’s spotted him at a traffic signal. ‘‘I’ve learnt how to disconnect with the world.’’ He claims that Dr Richard Carlson’s Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff, which he read on his 25th birthday, changed his life in three-and-a-half hours ‘‘on a flight from Miami to the West Indies’’.

With all this pop philosophy in the air, one feels uninhibited. A rapid fire round of ‘Why do you act in trashy films?’ and ‘What about women in your life?’ doesn’t bring on fireworks. With a look that suggests that he’s eye to eye with the Buddha, Nigam replies, ‘‘I’ve just had no guidance as far as films are concerned, but why can’t people accept a singer in a film, too?’’

At the end of the question, eye contact with Buddha is terminated and he switches on the angst. Full blast.‘‘Hum Kaun Hai? flopped even though it had Bachchan saab, but it doesn’t make him a bad actor,’’ Nigam says of his favourite celluloid star. ‘‘But people will keep pointing a finger at me because I’m a singer who’s yet to prove himself as an actor.’’

He’s less prickly when he speaks of women. ‘‘I don’t know whether there’s place for romance in my life yet,’’ he says. ‘‘My wife, my parents and I are still to make a decision. This time, I want to keep the peace and sanctity of my family in mind.’’ Nigam and his wife Madhurima have been living separately for some months now.

The voice of Pakistani vocalist Ustad Hussain Baqsh Gullo fills the air and Nigam does a quick riyaz. ‘‘Listen to the harkats—this is the unsung hero in my life,’’ he says animatedly, as Gullo’s voice does another unbelievable twist.

At a recording at Mumbai’s Purple Haze studios, the sense of calm disappears like a peel-off face mask. Nigam is sunshine behind the mike, sending Shankar Mahadevan and the rest of the crew into splits when he imitates playback singer Udit Narayan. ‘‘I think Indians don’t have a sense of humour, but that’s changing and Uditji asks me to imitate him all the time now,’’ says the notorious mimic.

At home, Nigam’s just another guy—one who spends most of his time SMSing or working out. ‘‘I think I’m the only singer who works out regularly,’’ he says, puffing between pec flexes. If nothing else, he’s unwinding with Mr Bean DVDs. ‘‘I used to watch English films with my wife,’’ he reminisces. ‘‘If it was the whole family watching, it would be a Hindi film.’’

Life too seems to have taken on a celluloid glaze. ‘‘We have just one life, so we’ve got to live it up and right now, there’s no ‘What next?’’’