Oh Lord, Thank You For The Music!

Ace musician and composer Kersi Lord bid us farewell last Sunday. PT Special Correspondent and friend Hoshang K. Katrak pays a warm tribute…

Born on Valentine’s Day in 1935, the lover of music passed away on 16 October at the Lilavati Hospital where he was admitted earlier this month for a lung infection.

It was around a couple of decades ago that we had first met – at a music seminar. Recognising him from his photographs, I had walked up to him and asked, “Mr. Lord?” “Kersi Lord”, he had replied genially, looking me over. That was a start of an affable and everlasting friendship.

Kersi was arguably the most innovative and accomplished musician of his generation in the Hindi film industry. Proficient in a multitude of instruments, he was – besides being an instrumentalist – an arranger, conductor and a composer.

He hailed from an illustrious family whose roots were steeped in music – father Cawas (popularly known in the industry as Cawas Kaka), who had inspired and mentored the late Homi Mullan, and who had pioneered the use of Latin American percussion instruments in Hindi films; younger brother Burjor played the percussions, besides being a consummate drummer (that was Buji on the drums in the iconic song ‘Dum maaro dum’); younger sister Hilla, a talented pianist. Even his mother Banoobai and her brothers were all musicians. From 1947 to 1987, at least one of three songs saw a Lord in the recording studio!

pg_051 — The Three Legends – Naushad Ali, Mohd. Rafi and Kersi Lord

Kersi started his professional career at the tender age of 14, playing for Naushad in the film Dastaan (1950). He had earlier been accompanying his father — who had taught him to play the drums – to the recording studios. Kersi’s knowledge and dexterity in Jazz harmony was unparalleled. He was a key member of Pancham’s (R. D. Burman) group, although he played for all the top composers of the industry – Shanker-Jaikishan, Madan Mohan, S. D. Burman, Naushad, etc.

Kersi was a powerhouse of talent and knowledge – assiduously absorbing the rudiments of music and its technical aspects – never hesitating to impart this knowledge to his fans and students of music. Some of Kersi’s exploits in the world of music include the sensuous opening bars of accordion in ‘Roop tera mastana’ in Aradhana, the lighter-themed music in Dev Anand’s ‘Main zindagi ka saath’ in Hum Dono (Kersi had played the Glockenspiel which he had introduced to India, besides introducing the Moog Synthesiser too), and the accordion piece in ‘Achhaji main haari’ in Kaala Paani. Music director Madan Mohan had left the entire orchestration of the song, besides the keyboard segment of ‘Tum jo mil gaye ho’ in Hanste Zakhm to Kersi – and how he delivered! The title track of Shalimar and its background score too, is Kersi’s handiwork.

In the mid-60s, when S-J and O P Nayyar were making giant strides and posing a threat to the other established composers, Naushad decided to reinvent himself. And who did he turn to? Starting with Ram aur Shyam, Kersi collaborated with Naushad in a number of films. In Saathi, Kersi had set the entire musical pieces. The result was totally unlike anything heard in a Naushad film till then.

Like dad Cawas and brother Buji, Kersi too won numerous awards, including the Dadasaheb Phalke Academy Award 2010. On one of my visits to his home, he was candid enough to admit that once out of the recording studio, he didn’t bother much about Indian music. He loved to listen to Western classical, jazz and symphonies. Kersi’s deep-throated laughter was infectious and he radiated a hearty warmth. He was a gracious host during the few times that I visited his home: he was hospitality personified. On each of my visits, I couldn’t help but gaze at his father’s percussion instruments which Kersi had so neatly and reverently preserved.

His funeral was heavily attended by the people he worked with and by the fans whose lives he touched in various ways. As ace violinist, arranger and music director, Uttam Singh told me, “Kersi and I have been together since 1964. He was more like family. We have worked for 16-18 hours at a stretch for years together. He was adept at programming – he knew how to blend Indian instruments with the Western ones. If there is one word in which to describe him, it would be ‘perfectionist’.”

Kersi leaves behind his three daughters Zarine, Perizad and Jasmin, besides a legion of fans and admirers.
RIP Kersi, I will miss you, your ever-smiling face, and your vibrant sense of humour.