When you’ve worked with someone for five decades, you don’t have just one memory that you cherish. Lata ji is someone I grew up with. We lived close by, and back then, she wasn’t Lata Mangeshkar — the Nightingale of India for us. Nor were we the hit duo of Kalyanji-Anandji. We were all newcomers, bonding as peers who love music.

Studios were basic then, and we used to record two songs in a day. Because of the noise [during the day], we would record only at night. Photographic recording was the norm when we worked. So, we could never hear, what we’ve recorded, on the same day. There was no option to rewind. Lata ji had worked with musicians pre-independence, so she had to ability to mould herself based on the musician’s style. She picked up in no time. She was the smoothest to work with because of her experience. She never lost her hunger to work harder. As a singer, she had only a singular aim — to creatively satisfy her music director.

I can never pick my favourite Lata song, but making Don [1978] together was memorable. In a film that is a thriller and not a romantic outing, a song of hers [Jiska mujhe tha intezaar] stands out because she made the material her own. The same stands true for Zanjeer [1973]. She made our music popular with her voice. Every song of hers lives beyond her. She is immortal because her art lives on. I love Kora Kagaz [1974]. Her songs feel like a life philosophy.

One has to go of course, but Lata is immortal because of her legacy. She was disciplined, dedicated and grounded till the end. Even in the last ten years when she wasn’t singing actively, she would never give in to food indulgences. She never thought she is brilliant at what she did. She always turned around and asked if it was good enough, wondering what more we needed.