Delhi pianist becomes viral star after accompanying Anwar's impromptu Kishore Kumar performance

M. Rehman was working as a pianist at a Delhi hotel when word came down that a Malaysian prime minister might visit during the 18th BRICS Leaders Summit. He was told Anwar Ibrahim enjoyed Hindi songs. So Rehman did what any musician would do: he prepared. For 22 years he had been playing piano, and for the past stretch he'd also taught Western music. He knew the value of readiness.

On Friday, the hotel staff confirmed the Prime Minister was staying there. Rehman spent the evening researching Anwar's musical tastes, building a mental library of songs he might be asked to play. The next day, during his break, Rehman saw Anwar enter the restaurant where the piano sat. He moved quickly, unlocking the instrument and beginning to play "Dosh Dosh Na Raha," a song from the 1965 Hindi film Sangam—one he'd learned was among the Prime Minister's favorites. Anwar had been heading in another direction entirely. But the music stopped him. He changed course and came to the piano.

What followed was a one-minute-and-32-second performance that would reshape Rehman's life. Anwar sang "Khwab Ho Tum Ya Koi Haqeeqat," a Kishore Kumar classic, while Rehman accompanied him. The moment was captured and posted to Anwar's X account. Within days, it had accumulated more than 1.4 million views. Across Indian social media platforms, the video spread further—shared, commented on, praised. For many Indians, Kishore Kumar's melodies carry the weight of memory and cultural continuity. The sight of a Malaysian leader singing one of those songs, in a Delhi hotel, during a summit meant to strengthen ties between nations, resonated.

Rehman found himself at the center of something larger than he'd anticipated. The 45-year-old pianist, who had spent more than two decades in relative obscurity, was suddenly visible. "I'm happy, very happy," he told reporters. "The people are looking at me. At least they see me. My face, my face is being shown all around the world." There was no bitterness in the statement, no irony. He meant it plainly. For a working musician in a hotel restaurant, the sudden attention felt like recognition of a kind he hadn't expected to receive.

But the viral moment was not pure chance. It was the product of preparation meeting opportunity—Rehman's decision to research, to be ready, to move quickly when the moment arrived. It was also the power of a song that transcended borders. "Khwab Ho Tum Ya Koi Haqeeqat" had been written decades earlier, for an Indian film, sung by an Indian legend. Yet in that Delhi restaurant, it became something else: a bridge between two countries, built not by diplomats or officials, but by a pianist who had done his homework and a prime minister who recognized a familiar melody.