Industry took it out all on me: Lucky Ali
There’s no denying the fact that Lucky Ali’s music is one of the very few things in this world that can brighten up one’s gloomy mood in an instant. A reason for that could be that the voice behind those soulful renditions has “too much conscience”, to sing songs which are only created for a commercial purpose. He is someone who, in spite of not releasing an album for nine years, only agreed to work on the album Lemalla with Israeli rocker Eliezer Cohen Botzer, because he could feel “a connect” with him.
“I don’t do music which everyone sort of agrees with. For instance, for me, love is liberating and it can never be sad. A lot of these songs that you listen to are so sad, but I don’t think love can lead to unhappiness. So I create music which does not cater to everyone’s thought process, it caters to mine,” he says with a big smile on his face.
This sense of self-worth is not new. Despite being the son of late actor Mehmood, and the nephew of late actor Meena Kumari— two of the biggest stars of commercial Hindi cinema— Lucky was drawn towards the “alternative” film space . “I started assisting Shyam babu (Shyam Benegal, filmmaker), with his work. One day, I just walked into his office in Mumbai and asked him if he could cast me in his movie. He asked me to come back in a week, and I got Trikaal (1985),” says The Sur: The Melody of Life (2002) actor.
However, contrary to popular belief, despite being a star kid, Lucky wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms by those in the industry. Reason? His father. Lucky felt the wrath of all those people who had worked with his dad, and were “very afraid” of him, was projected on him. “They took it out all on me. They were like ‘what do you do?’ Are you an actor? Are you a singer? Why do you want to do a role in English and things like that. So I wasn’t enjoying cinema,” says the Kaante (2002) actor.
So Lucky ran away to work on an oil rig, off the coast of Puduchuerry. When he was not doing the “illegal job of painting the inside of the oil tanks”, he used to play the “guitar on the helipad”. “That was the time I realised I wanted to do this. Not being on the oil rig (laughs), but music. I really loved that feeling and being in that space, and then I think that was it,” he says.
Unlike those who want a career in showbiz, the Safarnama (Tamasha; 2015) singer rejected Mumbai and chose the quiet life on a farm in Bengaluru. And there is an emotional reason. “Mumbai reminds me of my mother. I was born there and I love the city. But ever since my mother died, I just get reminded of her when I am there,” he shares.
That was the time I realised I wanted to do this. Not being on the oil rig (laughs), but music. I really loved that feeling and being in that space.
LUCKY ALI, SINGER