"If he hadn’t stopped at the Church...": The day Yesudas escaped a deadly accident

To share three days with the musical Gandharvan, Yesudas, to speak with him openly, and to recognize the pure human being behind the legend—this is no small thing. Music lovers who consider it a blessing to live in the same era as this great man would surely understand. Now, I can only say, everything happened as if by divine arrangement. Those days were truly filled with joy.

Most of my experiences with people from the film industry have involved those who expect everything to be done for them. Yesudas, however, stands apart—on a much higher plane. Seeing Dasettan come into the kitchen in the morning and prepare his own breakfast essentials—how could one not be amazed? Any celebrity who dreams of living in America must understand this truth: those who’ve grown accustomed to having everything done for them will find American life a disappointment. Dasettan’s way is to never trouble anyone; he does what he can by himself. That self-reliance may be one reason he feels at home in America. In Kerala, there’s always a crowd around, people falling at his feet for blessings. He appreciates the love, but when those bonds start interfering with a free life, problems arise.

I once visited his home in Dallas. There too, he does everything by himself. He drives to buy vegetables and shop for essentials. At home, he and his son have even built a small recording theater. If needed, he’ll even help Prabha (his wife) with cooking—without the slightest hesitation. Perhaps our filmmakers in Kerala can’t even imagine such a thing. That’s how independent his life in America is.

It is part of his routine to sing every morning at dawn. He’s also very particular about food—never consuming anything that might harm his voice. His life seems like a sacred penance for music and for his voice. That very lifestyle is a textbook for today’s generation.

Yesudas’s Habits

In his youth, whenever Yesudas traveled, he would always stop and pray at the Vallarpadam Church in Ernakulam. One day, on the way to Madurai, he left for the Kochi airport a bit late and decided not to stop at the church. But as he passed its gates, he felt compelled to go in. He did. By the time he reached the airport, the plane had already departed. Later, he heard the shocking news—the plane had crashed near Madurai, killing all on board. That he is alive today is, perhaps, because of those small rituals he never ignored.

For Dasettan, every place of worship is sacred, not just Vallarpadam Church. His father, Augustine Joseph, taught him that first lesson. He never asks anything from God; after all, the Lord above sees everything—what need is there to ask? “Let the all-knowing do what He knows best”—that is his philosophy.

He firmly declares that his father was his first guru. The man we know today as Padma Shri Dr. K.J. Yesudas was first guided into the world of music by the renowned musician and actor Augustine Joseph. Though he later studied under many great teachers, including Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhagavatar, he always says the foundation was laid by his father. His childhood was full of hardships—there were times he ran about unable to afford even his father’s medicine. He once had to stand outside a neighbour’s house just to hear his first recorded song played on their radio. He faced discrimination at music school for being a Christian and was even asked to leave due to unpaid fees. Despite all this, he endured it for the sake of music. That struggle turned into a determination—a fire that took him to the heights of musical glory. Yet even now, he says he has only touched the edge of the vast ocean of music. To truly understand its depth, one must become a Yesudas. Then, where do we ordinary music lovers stand?

All India Radio

Back when Yesudas began singing, there were no reality shows or TV contests. All India Radio was the stage that tested one’s talent. Getting selected there was the only way to earn recognition. Dasettan, still a young boy, went for an audition. Travelling to Thiruvananthapuram meant spending money he didn’t have. Thanks to others’ kindness, he made the journey. He was so eager to sing, he forgot his hunger. Outside the radio station, he drank water from a street pipe to fill his stomach. He sang with humility before a panel of senior musicians. When the results came, they said, “His singing is good, but his voice doesn’t suit the microphone.” Crushed, he left the city. But the rest is history.

That experience, too, is a lesson for today’s young singers. I remember reading somewhere, “One different child can change the world.” But in Yesudas’s case, it’s more apt to say: “One different voice can change the world.”

Though we now have many capable singers, we still wait for that unique voice—like Chitra from the south or Shreya Ghoshal from Bengal. How long must we wait for another powerful voice? There’s no answer. For now, we still have Dasettan. Let us pray for his health. Even in today’s reality shows, the judges’ verdict is not the final word. Awards too are merely matters of chance. Just because Bharat Awards didn’t go to greats like Satyan, Thilakan, or Nedumudi doesn’t mean they weren’t phenomenal actors. And those who do win may not always be the best.

But someone with extraordinary talent will always be recognised, sooner or later. The best example of that is none other than our Gandharvan of Kerala—Padma Shri Dr. K.J. Yesudas.

The California Visit

On July 20, Yesudas arrived in California for a concert and stayed at our home in Alamo. The concert took place at the auditorium of Chabot College in Hayward, a bit outside San Francisco. It was unforgettable—something for all who came to cherish. The Indian community came together to make it a grand success. What else but the magnetic presence of Dasettan could have brought everyone together?

The next day was reserved for visitors. Many old acquaintances came by. With them, Dasettan shared music and spiritual thoughts. For three days, our home became a musical sanctuary.

Finally, when Dasettan said goodbye at the San Francisco airport, it felt like a loss—as if we had completed a profound journey through his thoughts and life experiences. Neither I, nor Prema, nor the children could quite express it in words. That’s how deeply we valued those days.

Even our little daughter Diya was enchanted by his presence. She would occasionally call out “Yesudas Appuppa!” and run to tug his beard—how can we ever forget that playful moment? Perhaps it was Diya whom Dasettan and Prabha Chechi remembered the most fondly. Their own granddaughter Ameya, Vijay Yesudas’s daughter, is the same age. They told us stories about her. Sometimes, Dasettan would even hum the first lessons of music to Diya—we stood in awe.

My daughter Nadhi, who loves music and dance, and my son-in-law Roy were also deeply moved by this rare opportunity. Their only regret: that those magical moments couldn’t be captured on video.