Mere Piya Gaye Rangoon...

A lot of us remember Deepal Shaw gyrating her hips in an insult of a school uniform skirt, thrusting her bosom into the camera and making all sorts of raunchy gestures to the beat of ‘Kabhi aar kabhi paar’. A lot of us will also remember the entire lyrics of the peppy ‘Saiyaan dil mein aana re’, made extremely popular in its remix avatar, and at all parties, we would’ve have chorused its ‘Chham chhama chham chham’ beat. Some of us might even remember Kajol trying her best to sing ‘Kahin pe nigaahein kahin pe nishana’ in the iconic Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, when Shahrukh Khan eases his hand on top of Mandira Bedi’s shy fingers, assuming her to be his lady love. This song then, I feel, became an idiom to tease every person whose targets skipped away from in front of his eyes. Oh, and it is a staple at all wedding antakshari contests too!

Why these songs? Well, that’s because they are united by a voice full of life, which, ironically is being remembered at the time when it has transcended the mortal world. It is even more ironic that while we remember each word of these very hummable songs, only a minority of us will be able to recall the name behind the voice which gave character to these songs. I am talking of the inimitable Shamshad Begum, whose singing was not made up of the velvety, soft, soothing or sugary voice we so admire in our modern day singers. Her voice was husky, unconventional, bold, full of zest and conveyed a sort of mischief, which could be found in each of her renditions. Yesterday, at the age of 94, and much after she left an indelible mark on the Indian music industry, she passed away at her Mumbai residence.

Shamshad Begum forms an important part of my childhood memories. Summer vacations were spent at my maternal grandmother’s house, where, all of her six children (my mother included) were great fans of old Indian music. By old, I do not mean the R. D. Burman numbers, which are as far back as the younger generation’s imagination goes when we utter the word ‘retro’. My family was keen to dig out retro from its very roots, from before the time giants like Mohd. Rafi or Lata Mangeshkar marked their presence. I used to sulk and make faces at the ancient melodies which came out the tape recorder, and it was not until much later that I could briefly remember names of Noorjehan, Uma Devi, Zohra Bai Ambalewali, and then, Shamshad Begum.

It was my eldest mamaji, who left for his heavenly abode last year in a heartbreakingly unexpected manner, who was instrumental in making me develop a taste for old, golden music. This taste has flowered to such an extent that today, I have lyrics of an endless number of classic melodies at the tip of my tongue, and a noticeable share of those melodies belong to Shamshad Begum’s corpus. She was one of the earliest female singers to have become a part of Indian music industry, and was its reigning queen for quite long, well into the fifties, when O. P. Nayyar made her sing immortal melodies in Aar Paar and CID. Along with Geeta Dutt, she is among my favourite singers of all time. What was strikingly unique about her was that in a period where classical values were staunchly adhered to even in film music, her voice brought a rustic and folk touch, which was fresh and lively. Try listening to her songs. They will make you happy, and induce a springy feeling inside you. I do not know which was the first of her songs I heard, but one of the first which caught on my tongue was ‘Mere Piya Gaye Rangoon’. I might not have understood the meaning of the lyrics, but the song seemed funny and entertaining enough to make me enjoy singing it. Simple, with no complicated musical notes, I think songs like these are a triumph on the part of the composer, singer and the lyricists, because they so easily appeal to the audience and in some time, become a part of their culture.

Yes, Shamshad Begum’s songs are a part of our culture now. I have kept saying that she had a lively touch to her voice, but this does not mean she shied away from singing poignant melodies, one of the most memorable being ‘Chhod Babul Ka Ghar’, composed by Naushad. She was born in Amritsar in 1919, and her contributions to Punjabi music are also immense. She has sung romantic songs, wedding songs, bidaai songs, folk songs, solos, duets – there is nothing that can be said enough to effectively eulogise her music career. It can, however, be safely stated that her songs are a touchstone to judge good music. She spent her last days living with her daughter in Mumbai, and as a very delayed recognition of her talent and contributions, was awarded the Padma Bhushan in 2009 by the Government of India. Khayyam, in an interview quoted on her official website, had stated about “Her voice was one of its kind and her enunciation was wonderfully clear. She commanded a lot of respect both at the personal and professional level.”

I know many of you would not have ever heard her songs, or at least, not in her voice. It is a little different, or unconventional, from the kind of music all of us are used to hearing. But if you can find some time, here are five recommendations from me to gain an introduction to her world. These are my favourites – songs I can hear over and over again, throughout my life.

Boojh mera kya naam re from CID

Meri neendon mein tum from Naya Andaaz, a duet with Kishore Kumar

Kajra Muhabbat Wala from Kismet, a very entertaining duet with Asha Bhonsle

Yeh duniya roop ki chor from Shabnam, a cute, funny and bubbly song

Saiyaan dil mein aana re from Bahaar – I could not have left out this song at all!

A statistic states, that 70 per cent of remixed songs had originally been sung by Shamshad Begum. That says something about the kind of appeal her melodies have till date.

Another star has set on Indian music industry. May her soul rest in peace. 

(Originally written for and published on Scroll 360)

Divinity In Motion

“Maati ke tum deeware, jo suno hamaari baat,

 Aaj milawara piya ka, ve main jagiyoon saari raat.”

Have you ever had the good fortune of listening to voices steeped in divine fervour, belting out melody after melody, addressed to the Creator? Have you ever felt a part of the stupor which overtakes a throng which sits around the tomb of some saint as love-filled songs reverberate through the surroundings? Have you ever heard the music, the mere aura of which leads you to the Divine?

If any of the above sentences can be answered in a ‘yes’, you, in my opinion, have tasted music at its sublime best. As a generic statement, it can be surmised about music, that Great Music is such which makes you transcend your immediate environment, and elevates you to a level where you feel one with the Divine. It may also be stated specifically, that there is a kind of music which exists for the purpose of calling out to the Creator, and establishing an irrevocable bond of pious love with him. That music is what is known as Sufi music to all of us.

Delhi, labelled alternately as the city of romance, food, heritage and much else, is also the city which played home to many a sufi peers. It was Khwaja Qutbuddin Bakhtiar Kaki, a scholar of the Chishti Silsila (order), who brought Sufism to Delhi. However, it was Hazrat Nizam-ud-din Auliya and his disciple, Hazrat Amir Khusrau, who lent that shape to Sufi tradition in Delhi which we recognize today. Who among as has remained untouched by the magical spirit behind the song ‘Kun Faya Kun’, sung unto celestial perfection by the new age sensation – Mohit Chauhan and Javed Ali? That song, was, obviously, a rendition to the venerable peer, Sultan-ul-Mashaikh Nizam-ud-din Auliya. If that is one song which has left you touched and inspired, you will find celestial magic in the live qawwalis which echo in the precincts of Auliya’s dargah.

Kun Faya Kun is not Bollywood’s first experimentation with the sufi genre. It was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s qawwaalis, iconic when played in the background of a couple’s courtship, which elevated a mundane love narration to something above the ordinary. The very forgettable debut of Aishwarya Rai in Aur Pyaar Ho Gaya was made memorable only because of the genius of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, who lent his voice and compositions to make soul-touching music. Qawwali is one of the most popular forms of sufi music, argued to have its origins in Persia. It was the 13th century saint, Hazrat Amir Khusrau Dehlevi, who is believed to have introduced this form of music to India. Khusrau, of course, is the genius also credited with significant contributions in Hindustani classical (vocal and instrumental) music. The orthodox Islam sees music, as other means of entertainment, with contempt. However, in Sufi tradition, which lays down the path of ecstatic union with God, music, as well as dancing, is an intrinsic part of treading on that path. Remember the Dancing Dervishes, anyone?

Sample the following lines sung at the beginning of a popular qawwali, Allah Hoo, by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan –

“Tere hi naam se har ibtida hai

Tere hi naam tak har intiha hai

Teri Hamd-o-sana, alham do lillah,

Ke tu mere Muhammad ka Khuda hai”

The above lines are what is known as a ‘hamd’. A hamd is type of qawwali which is sung in praise of Allah. A Naat is one which sings praises of Prophet Muhammad (SAW). There are other types as well, primarily categorised on the basis of the object of devotion and the basic essence carried in the lyrics. However, you need not know any of these technicalities in order to enjoy the radiance of sufi music. The traditions date back some 700 years, and the Indian subcontinent is rich with variegated varieties of sufi music. The Sabri brothers and the Wadali brothers are my personal favorites, especially when they use their rustic voice to give a melody to Bulleh Shah’s lyrics. Bulleh Shah, along with Amir Khusrau, is arguably India’s most popular sufi poet. However, had it not been for the singers and composers, a large chunk of their poetry would have never come in contact with the ordinary populace.

Sufism is described as that mystic part of Islam, which emphasises on love, tolerance and harmony, and in which, the sole objective of existence is to come closer and closer to the Lord, such that you feel Him in you, and yourself in Him. A simple trip to any dargah, that of Moinuddin Chishti, Haji Ali, Salim Chishti, or Auliya himself, would make you realize, however, that the devotees which throng them are nothing but a picture of secularism. The ideals of peace and devotion preached in Sufism transcend all communal barriers and are hence, as appealing to Hindus as to their Muslim brethrens. When we understand this basic definition of Sufism, we realise that Meera Bai, the most ardent and famous devotee of Lord Krishna, herself trod on the sufi path. She sought nothing but an image of Sri Krishna to forever envelope her heart; she too sought union with her Lord, one whom she considered herself married to. That famous saint has left behind her foot prints in some wonderful melodies. One which instantly comes to mind is “Sanware rang raachi..”, in which Meera Bai proudly sings about the colors of her Lord which are smeared all over her existence.

With Wafia, at Dargah Nizamudding Auliya
(Photo Credits - Aaqib Raza Khan)

When it comes to divine music, India has a tradition which can take a lifetime to discover. One sufi tradition, however, which I wish was as intrinsic to India as the qawwali culture, is the Mevlevi dance of dervishes, whose origin is attributed to Persian Sufi Poet, Jalalladin Rumi. Lost in a trance created by sufi music, the dervishes are elevated above all else when they start swirling with their head raised marginally in the direction of the Almighty. Modern day sufism has an over-simplified definition. We, the younger generation, associate Rahat Fateh Ali Khan’s love lorn compositions with sufi spirit, which is not totally wrong since one of his earliest song, Mann Ki Lagan, did have notions of sufi poetry attached to it. However, a true experience of sufi music, the kind which gives wings to your heart, can only be found amid the qawwals singing like mendicants at dargahs of sufi peers with their eyes not leaving once the sight of their beloved, their object of devotion, their God.

“Khusrau baazi prem ki, main kheloon pi ke sang,

Jeet gaye toh piya more, haari pi ke sang.”

(This article had originally been written for Scroll360.in)

Dreamless In Delhi

Guess what? It rained today morning! Early morning. Seven-ish. That, by my standards is very, very early. What I am glad for is the fact that last night was not just dreamless, but sleepless. For that, I thank the heavens, or whoever, whatever power, if any, controls my thoughts, emotions and actions. It is not in an era now that I have woken up to greet the subtle hues of morning. I always wake up to loudness of sun in the afternoon. With respect to me, a fact which has firmly been established is that if I am to witness the cracking of dawn, right at the edge of horizon, I can only do it by keeping up all night. Not in my wildest thoughts can I wake up that early, never even for the fear of God can I wake up without looking and feeling like a zombie.

(Playing in the background...Pyar hua ikrar hua hai, pyar se phir kyun darta hai dil....)

I love such unexpected rains, however brief their tryst with us mortals waiting for them with parched hearts, especially in the merciless heat of rising summer. Rainy season depresses me; it dampens my spirits by not allowing that persistent cloud of  gray to subside and give way for some vibrancy to re-enter the world. My inspirations become subdued, my thoughts overshadow all my need to talk and act, and I wait rather impatiently for the picturesque autumn flavor to arrive. Rains in summers are, aah, just that, rains in summer. Respite. Rejuvenation. Bliss. Beauty. And what I enjoy about them most? What they leave after their sojourn. A cool, subtle, but firm breeze. The kind which is blowing in from my balcony to caress my cheeks right now. It reminds me of the first careful, yet eager kiss planted at the same place by someone. And who also led my heart to race, with palpitation loud enough to compete with thunder in terms of decibels.

The breeze-it makes my thoughts perch on its invisible stream and fly towards the most majestic memories.

(Song changed. The background is now serenaded by Ae ri pawan, dhoondhe kise tera man, chalte chalte)

There are days in life, when you would be too quick to conjecture that chaos is the order in the world. Mess prevails. Yet, in some short lived, rare and magical moments, which are very prone to being missed unless you are highly perceptive and sensitive, Providence does fit in beautifully elements of our surrounding to form a neat, breathtaking, mesmerizing picture. The random brush strokes cluster together to conjure the image of the most pretty floral garden you have ever seen. For me, right now, the elements which combine to bestow the same grandeur are-
Perfectly matched, moss-rich melody from the erstwhile times in the background.
Finish line of work coinciding with starting line of rains.
Just enough rain to uplift and not dampen.
Chirpiness of birds setting out on another day of flying to distant corners.
Memories of friends.
Lingering touch of love.
Space in mind.
A hot cup of lemon tea.
Hint of dizziness to add the glamour.

All this together, and a hopeless romantic like me feels weak in her knees. I could romanticize any and everything today. As it has happened, the sun has started peeking from behind the clouds. Slowly, it is marking its presence his kingdom which had momentarily been taken over by luscious clouds. For once, I do not dread its arrival, for when it will be on ascent, I shall be peacefully dreaming away of love, and castles, and flowers and melodies. I do however, feel happy for this little rendezvous with the very source of vitality on earth, the Sun, whose percolating rays are dancing on my arm as I type away on the keyboard. A happy heart is all I've got to greet everything with. I think that is a good thing.

So, Dreamless In Delhi? So far, yes. But with these lines echoing in my mind, I would not be for long.

 Ek akeli tu, meri saheli tu,

Jiska koi saathi naahi, uska kya jeevan?

I wish I could also talk to the breeze like in these lines and ask questions of unfulfilled love and share memories of titillating romance. But, I still have my dreams to visit.

This post is for all those who missed the magic of rains today morning. For all those also who met the rains, but missed the magic still. I will end by recollecting lines from a recent friend to lend definition to my hopeless romanticism.

Woh bade tajassus se poochh baithe mere gham ki wajah

Maine halki se muskurahat di aur kaha, muhabbat ki thi.

And finally, no one does justice to rains better than the brush of Leonid Afremov. Here is another gem from him, titled

Scent Of Rain

Mellifluous Recollections

These days, my mind does not find much space for allowing imagination to undertake flights unto boundless horizons. The reason behind that is piling pressure of studies, accompanying which is the diabolical stress of performing. So, while my imaginations stand crippled, what my mind does indulge in are activities which help it stay calm and rooted. Very frequently, in order to derive calm from chaos, I find my mind ricocheting back when it hits stressful visions of future to a carefree and peaceful past.

Today morning, the first thing I observed myself doing was humming a tune. I could not identify it at once, but this tune has been an important and fond part of my past. I might have been in 4th or 5th standard when I had heard my music teacher singing the most amazingly melodious ghazal. I could understand the verbal meaning of the ghazal, but not the depths of that meaning then. I do distinctly remember resolving secretly to learn the same ghazal and sing it at least as good as, if not better than my music teacher. My diffidence did not allow me to ask him to teach me. My vocal cords had betrayed me roughly half a week back, when I had politely been informed that I should not try and get into the school choir. That I not only got into it but led it for my remaining years in school is an altogether different story.

This post, specifically, is for me to recollect the magical effect that ghazal casts. So well did I remember each note of the way it was sung, that even without having any recording, that ghazal stayed by with me for long. I did not try singing it till many years later, and if I were to judge myself, I guess its magic lay close to the first time I had heard it. More magical now was that I understood perfectly the beauty, gravity and depth which the poet sought to convey when he uttered these lines "Lagta nahi hai dil mera is ujade dayaar mein, kiski bani hai aalam-e-na payedaar mein"

In his last days

 Most of shayari aficionados would instantly recognize these lines as perhaps the most famous and significant of what escaped the quill of India's last Mughal Emperor- Bahadur Shah 'Zafar'. He was not known to be the ablest or bravest Emperor, but he did build a reputation for being a prolific shayar. 'Zafar', meaning victory, was his takhallus, or what we know better as, nom-de-plume. Zafar was sent to exile in Rangoon after the uprising of 1857, in which, a disorganized band of rebels had marched towards Delhi and proclaimed Zafar to be their sovereign leader. The ghazal that I am referring to was written by Zafar in exile and it poignantly expresses in a graceful language the agony Zafar suffered on account of being sent to an alien place, detached from his own people and homeland. He was later buried near the Shwedagon pagoda in Rangoon. In these beautifully sculpted verses, Zafar expresses his dismay over not being able find his final resting place in Hindustan- his home and motherland. Without deliberating further, here are the evocative verses, forming perhaps my most favorite ghazal of all times.

Lagta nahin hai ji mera ujaday dayar mein
Kis ki bani hai aalam-e-na payedar mein

Bulbul ko baghbaan se na sayyad se gila
Qismat main qaid likhi thi fasl-e-bahaar mein

Kehdo in hasrtoon se kahin door ja basein
Itni jaga kahan he dil-e-daghdar mein

Ik shak- e-gul pe beth kar bulbul he shadman
Kante bicha die hain dil-e-lalazaar mein

Umr-e-daraaz mang kar lae the chaar din
Do aarzo main kat gae do intezaar mein

Din zindgi ke khatam hue lo sham ho gai
Paon bichha ke soainge konj-e-mazar mein

Kitna he badnaseeb hai ‘zafar’ dafan ke lie
Do gaz zameen bhi na mili koo-e-aar main

Bahadur Shah ‘Zafar’

An Era Of Mausiqi Ended

Log kehte hain Jagjit na raha. Ghazal ro rahi rahi mera manmeet na raha. -Manoj Kumar on Jagjit Singh's demise on 10th October, last year.

Ghazal kehna bahut zimmedaari ka kaam hai. In other words, conveying the pathos of a poet with musical embellishments is a job of immense responsibility. Jagjit Ji, without fail, discharged this responsibility with enviable perfection. Ghulam Ali Sahab was true when he remarked on Jagjit Ji's demise that "With the going of Jagjit, a pillar of mausiqi has been lost." However, more touched was I on reading as a eulogy Manoj Kumar's above quoted expression. Jagjit ji's loss cannot be captured more lucidly in words. In his going away, ghazals have been left bereft of their most beloved humraahi. Humsafar. The face of ghazals as catches the popular imagination today had been chiseled by the dexterous of doyen of contemporary Indian light classical music. On 10th October last year, he decided that it was time now he serenaded the heavens with his silken voice. If he had not been so hasty in his departure, today we would have been celebrating his 71st birthday.

Jagjit Ji's voice is a magic potion. Much about him shall always be said in present tense, for he has immortalized himself via some priceless jewels. Rare gems like him never recede to the past. Their worth and glory enhances as time progresses. Jagjit Ji's soulful renditions of some great poetry can make reality hit you hard, or transport you to a surreal world. They may intensify your gloom by echoing with surprising precision a personal sorrow. The same ghazals could exude a salubrious air- an air capable of setting right the ills concomitant to deeply, passionately felt love.

Besides being a prolific singer, Jagjit ji was a great storyteller. Ask me what sung by him is my favorite ballad and I won't spare a nano second in pointing towards these lines. These lines are a chain of thoughts. Lyrically beautiful. Rendered sublime in Jagjit Ji's soulful voice.

Baat niklegi toh phir door talak jaaegi

Log bewajah udaasi ka sabab poochhenge

Yeh bhi poochhenge ki tum itni pareshaan kyun ho

Ungliyan uthengi sookhe hue baalon ki taraf 

Ik nazar dekhenge guzre hue saalon ki taraf

Choodiyon par bhi kai tanz kiye jaayenge

Kaanpte haathon pe bhi fiqre kase jayenge

Log zaalim hain har ik baat ka tana denge

Baaton baaton mein mera zikr bhi le aayenge

Unki baaton ka zara sa bhi asar mat lena

Warna chehre ke taasur se samajh jayenge

Chaahe kuchh bhi ho sawalaat na karna unse

Mere baare mein koi baat na karna unse

Now, doesn't this story sound all too familiar? If you have not, I implore you with all my heart to lend an ear to this just once. For this composition, veteran lyricist Javed Akhtar is said to have remarked - Baat nikal bhi gayi, aur door talak jayegi bhi. These were Jagjit Ji's early days. Javed Akhtar's words proved prophetic for the heights extraordinaire which Jagjit Ji was destined to climb.

He shimmered like the brightest star in the sky of Indian music. A sitara, however, has not been lost. He is, in fact, shining ever more brightly, firmly, coruscating in the hearts of millions who loved him and will continue to do so till eternity.

Today is his 71st birthday. I wish it were in my capacity to reach out to him and wish him just once.

Achchha sa koi mausam, tanha sa koi aalam

Har waqt ka rona toh, bekaar ka rona hai.

Ustad Sultan Khan- His Sarangi Lives On....

Jagjit Singh. Bhupen Hazarika. Ustad Sultan Khan. These three were the unparalleled jewels who embellished the world of Indian Music and enhanced its glory. Each one of them belonged to a vastly different genre of Indian music, each one of them now no longer there to regale our souls with their powerful voices. At times like silk, and times haunting- I still cannot believe that we have lost these three precious voices in such quick succession, with barely any time to even recuperate in between.

While Jagjit Singh was popular among the masses because of the commercial success he could garner, the latter two are relatively lesser known names. Bhupen Hazarika, still, has had a marked presence on the musical scene in the north-east, but Ustad Sultan Khan's fame had remained confined to the dilettantes classical music- not so popular among the youth, till a long time. I myself was introduced to his magical voice rather late in life, when I had acquired enough respect and awe for Hindustani Classical Music. It was with the release of the endearingly melodious 'Piya Basanti' that his voice gained stupendous recognition among the young music listeners. Piya Basanti, with its soft musical curves, remains a top favorite till date.

Padmabhushan Ustad Sultan Khan first gained fame through his extraordinary mastery over the Sarangi, one of the most difficult traditional Indian string instruments, which he learnt under the tutelage of his father Gulab Khan. If you have not heard the notes of his Sarangi, trust me, you are missing out on one of the simplest pleasures of life. Besides being a glorious sarangi player, he is also a prolific singer. In fact, of all his works, what I hold favorite is his first vocal album, titled Sabras. In each song of that album, you can get a taste of the bewitching notes of his Sarangi, combined with the wondrous rustic beauty of his voice, set to either folk or classical tunes. 'Nadi Re Kinaare' is my pick from them all.

A still from Leja Leja, from the album Ustad And The Divas

He sang only a limited number of film songs. His most famous is perhaps 'Albela Sajan' from Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, a age old classical melody which gained effortless commercial success. 'Jhin-min-jheeni' from Maqbool also owes a mellifluous sufi section in the song to Ustad ji's voice. Collaborating with the young voice of Shreya Ghoshal, he churned out one of the most celebrated non-film songs, 'Leja leja', which I find myself humming very often while doing my daily chores. He is one of those artists I have followed with a pious fervour. Like was the case with Jagjit Singh, an attempt to imitate his songs to the last little harkat has been a source of immense musical learning for me.

One of the most-read articles on my blog is Kate Nahi Raat Mori, a post which extols the eponymous song set to his very voice. If there had to be just one song I could recommend to someone oblivious to the charms of Ustad ji's voice, it would be this one. A lot many people landed on the earlier post while searching for its lyrics, as my blog stats later revealed. I'll end this post with the lyrics of the same song, which continuously reverberated in the background as I wrote this post. Praying for his soul.

Kate nahi raat mori, 

Piya Tore Kaaran, kaaran.

Kaare-kaare baadal chaaye,

Dekh dekh ji lalchaaye,

Kaise aaoon paas tihaare,

Bhool gaye more saajan.

Bheega bheega mausam aaya,

Piya ka sandesa laaya,

Manwa ko chain na aawe,

Tarse hai mori raina.

In the colors of his land. Ustad Sultan Khan belonged to Jodhpur, and was cremated there yesterday.

Hazaaron Khwahishein Aesi

Almost like a personal loss...

Ghalib-e-khasta ke bagair, kaunse kaam band hain

Roiye zaar zaar kya, kijiye haaye haaye kyun.....

I did resolve to positively control my urge of wanting to record my responses on things which affect me on a day to day basis till my UPSC Mains exams concluded. For this, I had nearly cut myself off from the world, categorically from the things which I knew would affect me. All it took was a phone conversation with one of my friends informing me of the demise of Jagjit Singh to have this resolve momentarily forgotten. While I did stay aloof from the world, Jagjit Ji's voice kept reverberating in my room, and within the walls of my head, to help create the calmness which I desire to continuously remain committed towards my dream. That voice resonates still, but it sounds a tad hollow.

They say, melodies closest to us are the saddest in nature. It is something I firmly believe to be true. The saddest of my thoughts have found expression in verses of Ghalib, Zafar, Firaaq Gorakhpuri, Faakir, and Nida Fazli whose poetry had been conveyed to me via the enchanting voice of Jagjit Ji. This habit of addressing him as  'Jagjit Ji' I acquired in school, where, for me and my friend, Pari, Jagjit Ji had a hallowed status. I've spend many a music lessons in school humming away numerous ghazals and nazms of his'. In fact, this difference between a ghazal and a nazm was communicated to me by the maestro, Jagjit Ji himself in a TV programme. Most of the times, I felt intimately attached to the melodies rendered immortal in his voice for I found an inner feeling or a personal experience being whispered again in my ears in Jagjit Ji's magical voice. That is what his ghazals can do to you. They can lend an aura of romance, or be your confidante in mourning, in loss, in sadness.

I owe many memories to him. 

"Us mod se shuru karein, phir yeh zindagi,

Har sheh jahaan haseen thi, hum tum the ajnabee"

This was my first solo stage performance. I was about fourteen years old, attired in a pink suit, standing on stage and singing away this ghazal to glory. It fetched me the first ever "Best Singer Award", which I went on to win for the remaining four years of my cultural life in school.

"Tu apne dil ki jawaan dhadkano ko, gin ke bata,

Meri tarah tera dil, beqarar hai ki nahi,

Daba daba sa sahi, dil mein pyaar hai ki nahi"

Whenever asked instantly to sing, I  can think of nothing but this composition. It is a song I would sing for my beloved sometime.. It is a song I call my own.

"Teri khushbu mein base khat main jalata kaise..."

Each time I heard this song, I knew my heart sank. Jagjit Ji's voice carries an unmistakable tone of pain, which is effortlessly contagious for all the listeners, me being no exception.

"Dil hi toh hai, na sang-o-khisht, dard se bhar na aaye kyun,

Royenge hum hazaar baar, koi humein sataaye kyun"

I knew I had grown up when I understood the meaning of these lines enough to draft a blog on them. An iconic composition- it is perhaps the only thing we as audience remember of Mirza Ghalib, a show that once aired on Doordarshan.

"Duniya jise kehte hain, jaadoo ka khilauna hai,

Mil jaaye toh mitti hai, kho jaaye toh sona hai"

The meaning of equanimity I could never comprehend. But a lesson or two in life I definitely learnt the first time I heard this ghazal some 7 years back. It has since not been off my play list.

"Baat niklegi toh phir, door talak jaayegi..."

The surge or emotions I felt whenever I heard this one I can not even attempt to describe. This is one of those compositions I have always wanted to sing, but have refrained from doing so for not wanting to spoil its sacred perfection. Even now, I can cry with comfort while listening to this. Is it not bits of my own life this nazm describes?

And lastly

"Yeh daulat bhi lelo, yeh shauhrat bhi lelo, 

Bhale chheen lo, mujhse meri jawaani,

Magar mujhko lauta do bachpan ka saawan,

Woh kaagaz ki kashti, toh baarish ka paani"

A duet with his humsafar, Chitra Singh, this song is the most intrinsic and irreplaceable part of all farewells conducted at my school. While singing this one, I could see very clearly the teary beads, hitherto controlled, trickling down the cheeks of each batch as it prepared to crossover from school into the next stage of life. When it came to my turn of sitting back and soaking in the memories while listening to this song, I acted the perfect coward and left the gathering as this song was being performed. I did not just want to listen to it. Like every other year, I wanted to sing it. Away from the gathering, that is exactly what I did.

This is list expectedly endless. And it should be. Ghazals would not have been an ordinary music lover's delight had Jagjit Ji not played the catalytic role in popularizing it. For me, he even helped being a source of faith. Fancily terming myself an agnostic, I could never keep away from the spell of "Jai madhav madam murari" or "Sabse oonchi prem sagai" when Jagjit Ji's voice accessorized them. Today, I think of I know by heart most of the songs he lent his voice to. However, I hope to death I have not discovered his entire treasure trove of music. The elation I felt whenever I heard any of his classics for the first time, and played it over and over again to know each and every harkat with which he made the song beautiful, I want to experience again. 

No new ghazals are will lend me that coveted elation. No new ghazals are going to come our way.

"Hazaaron khwaahishein aesi, ki har khwahish pe dum nikle,

Bahut nikle mere armaan, lekin phir bhi kam nikle."

The melody resonates. I wonder why it feels hollow.

Jagjit Singh, Chitra Singh and Vivek Singh- Their son who died in a car accident at a a tender age.

Alive For A While

I am good with nostalgia. Really good. I can feel nostalgic about almost everything I have had an association with. For the past three years, I created an illusion around me. An illusion of having grown up. Growing up with an ability of tear-free moving on. So far, the illusion did not seem treacherous. The numerous farewells conducted in the college- in music society, the Economics Department, WSDC, and the big-grand-college farewell itself- none of them could lead to even an allusion of moisture in my eyes. It was so different from the school farewell, where I shed an epic amount of tears, right from the beginning, till the very end, and may be later as well. But now, as I graduated out of college, it seemed like the most natural course of things- not even for a second was I in denial. Everyone graduates, some with smile, some with copious tears, some with fondness, some with grudges- I think I was largely impassive. And that was because the emotions had not yet knocked on my door.

"I'll miss you"- this one sentence, when spoken at the end of a seven minute conversation, by a diminutive figure with benign eyes and a humble disposition, a person who epitomized respect, diligence and everything astute during college life, a lecturer who made you want to study, can make even the most somnolent feelings of loss which thus far you had been suppressing away to an obscure corner of your heart come alive. Dr. Ela Trivedi- this name was reverential in college. It still is. And after a rigorous lecture in International Trade to the nascent third year students, as she stepped out of Room 308 yesterday when I visited college, I could realize, with force that too, what will never come back to me after embarking on a journey beyond college. She meant well, inquired meaningfully, did not show any hurry- in short, she sent my way every emotion which did not reek of the slightest formality and which made me realize the strength of my association with this grand institution called Jesus and Mary College- its grandeur more palpable now when I look back as a spectator, not a part.

As she walked away, a faint tear did try to force its way out of my eyes. I wanted to just walk over to the fabled 308 balcony- where naps were taken, fests planned, books read, notes completed, rains enjoyed, gossip sessions held, secrets confided, sadness shared, photo-sessions undertaken- and spend a quiet moment with myself. May be I once again wanted to look down at the parking lot and guess by looking at the assortment of cars which teachers would definitely be inside college. May be I just wanted to stare at the JMC gate and imagine my friends approaching the building, their hand waving fondly at me. Or may be I wanted to just look at the sky and seek an answer to "Where now, what now?"

Yes, my heart did feel heavy, but it felt alive too. I was on a well deserved leave out of the plush corporate ambiance of Gurgaon offices, and breathing in the odours of familiar corridors of JMC. These were the corridors to which we were expelled when we forgot to carry a Sydsaeter and Hammond or an Allen Webster to class, and these were the corridors from which we shouted out desperately to get that one extra attendance when our lecturers did actually expel us. Now the same corridors were brimming with faces, both familiar and unknown. Around ten of these faces came forward to give me the extra-special hugs, typical to the kind of bonding which develops amid JMCites. Two of these faces held my hand and dragged me to the quiter corners of the college to ask, share, discuss everything that came to their mind. I don't know for how long they will, but right now, my juniors do miss me. They wanted to tell me so much, ask me so much- and all I could do was to apologize for the dearth of time. In this one day respite I got from buying and selling currencies(my current occupation), I had to live at least a thousand more moments which office life heartlessly deprives me of. It does, of course, more than compensate by giving me fun moments of a different kind; but the charms of the carefree yet responsible college life do inveigle me as of now.

Remembering the highs, consciously forgetting the lows, I write from this room which sequesters me from the travails of the life being led and the uncertain future to follow. I am, right now, allowed the luxury if being engulfed by memories which make me smile into nothingness. And as I do so, I remember faces
My professors-irrespective of the way we opined in college, they were not just the best professors, but sometimes, more than just professors. Friends do tag along, but these are the real treasures we leave behind.
My mentors- Nivya Nair and Swati Iyer- two seniors who lent me that knowledge of music which I never had the luxury of understanding..and they helped a lost kid find some comfort, some solace.
My juniors- they just made me feel like the most special person in college. The respect and the love I got, and I still get, leaves me indebted.
My friends- few,  but prized.
My best friends- fewer, but mine for life.

PS- And the book-shop wale uncle. I don't think anyone in the college can function without his kindness. I owe him so much, monetarily. Hopefully, my first salary will lessen the debts. Only the monetary debts. The near filial benevolence he showed, how can I ever pay back for that?

Kate Nahi Raat Mori

A majestic smile, and some fond tears in my eyes.

We do it often, don't we? We all have our favorites, we swear life long fealty to them, we promise to keep them forever close to our hearts; and then, as we encounter newer things on the path of life, we leave them behind, without so much as a glance back. Actually, we never realize we've left these things behind. Things we can call our ultimate favorites are perennially present in our hearts and minds, but are locked away in some obscure corner of our being. Books, pictures, songs, scenes, quotes, dresses, dialogues, silly childhood memories, and even people- all capable of becoming our favorites, all capable of being lost.

Anyway. This post is not to become philosophical. This post is to express my mirth at discovering one such long lost favorite. Its a song, one that I would hum all day long, no matter how much it irritated the hapless listeners. The first time I heard it, I did not just like it, I knew I wanted to listen to it over and over again. A contestant of Indian Idol sang this mellifluous track originally sung by Ustad Sultan Khan (as I later learned), the Sarangi maestro whose charisma in singing is as good as his uncontested dexterity in playing the Sarangi. While she (Indian Idol contestant, season one, Aditi Paul I guess) managed to serenade the audience with her rendition of this song, she left me restless. I wanted this song. Technology which makes things accessible at a mere click was elusive to me at that time. This automatically led me to harry my friends continuously till one of them, equally fond the same song gave it to me on a CD. Some years back, I lost the CD. And with it, the song.

Today, I found this song back while surfing some random videos on YouTube. It felt like meeting some old friend again. Understandably, I was beyond happiness. Kate nahi raat mori....piya tore kaaran. Some memories of school days were rekindled. I remembered loathing my best friend for choosing to sing this song in the Annual Talent Hunt conducted in our school. I wanted to sing this song myself, but had to compromise and sing some ludicrous bollywood number. I won the talent hunt, but winning by singing this song would have been more special. I made a silly resolution that day- when my would be in-laws ask me to sing, as my naive brain thought that was customary, I would sing the same song. And, the song is so awesome, copious accolades would be the only natural thing to follow.

Am listening to this track still, and then as now, my eyes are a little moist. They always become when I hear the second and last stanza of this song
Bheega bheega mausam aaya,
Piya ka sandesa laya,
Manwa ko chain na aawe,
Tarse hai mori raina


These lines are a perfect example of how a fantastic song can lift you above your present surroundings, and transport you to some ethereal world, infinitely more pleasant and pleasurable than the place you are in. Preceded by an interlude which breaks to accommodate sounds premonishing rains and thunderstorms, these lines, set to a heart warming tone, in the rustic voice and accent of the Ustad Sultan Khan, always make my heart grow a little fonder. I can feel the rains. I can feel the pain, the bereavement. Beauty, I can confidently say, lies in the simplest of things. This song is a simple composition, very easy to hum, but it will refuse to leave your mind for quite sometime after it enters.

The song definitely stirs up some sad emotions within me. The perplexing thing is, those sad emotions are always accompanied by a warm and comforting smile on my face. The song makes me want to miss someone, miss him without any acrimony, miss him with love.

Wonder where I had lost this beauty all this while. Now that I have it back, I am searching for another song which holds almost the same significance for me. It is by the same singer, who sang and composed it in his debut vocal album, Sabras. The problem is, I do not remember the lyrics, but I can distinctly remember the music, the notes of Sarangi are playing in my head even now....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAWvlqsUzNM&feature=related
(Link to the YouTube video of this song. Not much of a video, but a lovely melody indeed.)

Mysticism...felt by heart

Chhaap tilak sab chheeni re,
toh se naina milaike.....

These lines sound familiar, don't they. Today I had the privilege of a rendezvous with the mystic who wrote these lines- Amir Khusrau. A mureed (student) of Hazrat Nizam-ud-din Auliya, Khusrau was by far one of the greatest sufi mystics India has seen, who, detaching people from clutches of religion, led them to a path of spiritual enlightenment, by preaching the universal religion of love.

Offering prayers at his dargah, with the sound of his 'aaj rang de, more mehboobi ke rang rang de' playing in the backdrop, was nothing short of a mystifying experience. Transgressing my immediate surroundings, i was elevated to a level, where I could just lose myself to the sufism pervading the atmosphere. My mind was intoxicated, yet so clear, for it was cleansed of all clutter. It was in that clarity, that I could visualize my own soul, devoid of all negativity, subscribing to love, and existing as a pure, humble, and loving entity.

Since a very early age, I've been attracted to Sufi music. It took me a lot of time to hear enough of it, so that I gain my own understanding of this form of worship.

I have become you, and you me,
I am the body, you soul;
So that no one can say hereafter,
That you are are someone, and me someone else.

Witnessing your beloved in Lord, and losing yourself so much to Him that you become a part of Him, is the form of sufism I follow. Come to think of it, Meera was a sufi- she was wedded to her Lord, Krishna. Sufis live in a spirit of defiance, and self sacrifice. Sufism is perhaps the only religion, that does not coerce, in stead, respects all creations. The seeker's attitude towards God and the elimination (fana) of the self for merger (wisal) in God is the aim and object of this love. Love overrides all the other aims why God should be obeyed.

This feeling is divine, when you are in so much peace with yourself, that you close your eyes, and besides the many things happening in your life, the only thing that falls on the black canvas behind your eyelids is the face of your beloved. When you sit down in meditation, what you can feel most promiscously around you is the presence of your beloved. The flowing breeze carries a whiff of the scent of your beloved. His eyes are all that you need to witness your own soul in. Not caring for a thing in this world, having no materialistic desires, He is all you crave for, He is all you desire. Without you even realizing it, your mind, in perfect harmony with your heart, humbly bows down in obeisance to Him. When you are not you, but a small part of Him, who you hail, and praise and worship.

Too naive to probably understand the true depths, this is what i comprehend of something which is so divine. However, I do admit, even with this much understanding, I find myself totally blissful, when I lose myself to a Sufi prayer, or a Quwwali, and to my Lord.

The only difference I find with myself is that, whether I witness in Him my beloved, or in my beloved him...is entirely my heart's prerogative.

Khusrau nizam ke bal bal jaoon,
mohe suhagan kinhi,
toh se naina milaike.....