Madam Ji

Madam Ji
by
Ally Adnan
Malika E Taranum Noor Jehan was not in a good mood when I met her for the
first time in my life. She was standing behind the glass wall of the recording room
at Shahnoor Studios in Lahore and was very upset. Everyone present could hear
the litany of Punjabi obscenities in coming out of her mouth on speakers. I had
been waiting for as long as I could remember to see Madam Ji - as she was called
by those in the industry and those close to her - in person and had been unable to
sleep with excitement the night before. These were not the words I was expecting
to hear in her voice. Once she had the obscenities out of her system, she took a
brief pause, and said something decidedly naughty but rather charming and
started laughing.
Madam was recording a song for Nazir Ali that day. Flautist, Khadim Hussain, was
the target of her ire. She was unhappy with the
interlude he was playing and with his
interpretation of raag Darbari. And standing
behind the glass wall she made sure that he - and
everyone else present - knew. Her words, albeit
crass, were delivered with style and a tinge of
humor. Her laugh at the end of the tirade was
silvery and naughty, showing pleasure,
embarrassment and incredulity, all at once, at
having said something off color in public. In
meetings that followed, I sometimes saw her
utter profanities that would make bouncers at
the kothas in Heera Mandi blush, some that I do
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not understand to this day; but she was never vulgar. Only Madam Ji could do
this - deliver every word she uttered with style and class. Everything she did was
done with class. No one had more class in the industry at the time; and no one
has had it since.
Khadim Hussain was no ordinary flute player. The tone of his bansuri and his
breath control were remarkable. When
Khawaja Khurshid Anwar had trouble with
several flautists while recording Heer Ranjha
(0791 )'s famous song, Sun Wanjhali Di
Mithri Taan, he had sought the celebrated
flautist out. Khadim got the song right in
three takes. Yet, Madam Ji was not satisfied
that day. The song was loosely based on
raag Darbari. She wanted the komal dhaivat
to be softer and kept recording over and
over again until Khadim Hussain got
Darbari's ati komal dhaivat just right. Madam Ji not only had perfect pitch, she
also understood shrutis, and knew that the dhaivat used in Darbari is lower than
the komal dhaivat. I was in awe of her knowledge, her singing and her towering
personality. I had never seen anyone like her in my life. I knew then that I had
been a fan of the right person all my life.
A few years ago, some musicians were discussing
Noor Jehan and Lata Mangeshkar at the Sangeet
Natak Akademi in Delhi. A lot was being said about
Lata's accuracy and mastery over music notes. I
was the only Pakistani in the group and could not
resist sharing my opinion. "Lata has complete
control over the twelve notes," I remember having
said. "When she starts singing, the twelve notes
stand before her with their hands folded, in
respect, waiting obediently for her to command
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their movements. Little wonder then that she sings with such ease."
Noor Jehan, on the other hand, does not
desire to have control over music notes.
When Madam Ji starts singing, the
twelve notes come alive and start
dancing with pleasure. She creates music
that makes the notes mast - I am sorry I
do not know how to translate this word
into English - and notes that are high on
music cannot and should not be
controlled. Madam Ji lets these djinns dance in their euphoria and tames them
into making music for God. Singing is, therefore, not effortless for her. It is, in fact,
an emotionally, spiritually and physically draining exercise for her. "
Geetanjali Lal, renowned kathak guru and, today, the chief of the repertory
company of the Kathak Kendra in Delhi, was one of the people present. She
smiled when I had said my piece. " You are so right. All of us know the truth about
Lata and Noor Jehan," she said. "Not everyone has the courage to say it like you
did."
Singing did not come easily to
Madam Ji. She had to put her
heart, soul, mind and spirit
into
recording
songs.
Sometimes she would allow
me and others to join her in
the recording room. We used
to sit behind her and could
always see her bare back on
ample display due to very low
cut blouses she liked. She would start fresh but very soon small beads of sweat
would start appearing on her back. These would soon turn larger in size and, at
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the end of most songs, Madam Ji was drowned in sweat, drained and listless with
exhaustion. She had given the song all she could!
I met Madam Ji for the second time at the Tai Wah restaurant on Main Boulevard
in Lahore. She was having dinner with a large group of people. I went up to her to
introduce myself and she asked me to
join her party. There were about thirty,
or so, guests at the long dinner table
and I recognized poets Parveen Shakir,
Qateel Shifai and Ahmad Nadeem
Qasmi. Madam Ji was, of course, the
center of attention. The topic of
discussion was poetry and she was
holding her own, reciting her favorite
couplets by Daagh, Sauda, Ghalib and
Faiz. I found out that she was very fond
of poetry and wrote herself, as well. She
recited a ghazal she had recently written
in Behr E Hazaj Musamman Salim which I found very charming due to its
simplicity and innocence. I remember a few couplets from the ghazal even today.
‫ِجسے ُتم دیکھ لیتے ھو وہی دیوانہ بنتا ہے‬
‫زرا سی بات بھی کر لو تو ایک افسانہ بنتا ہے‬
‫ یہ قامت‬،‫ ترے رخسار‬،‫ یہ تیرے لب‬،‫تری آنکھیں‬
‫جہاں بھی ُتم چلے آؤ وہیں میخانہ بنتا ہے‬
The party went on for hours, well past the restaurants closing time. All through
the evening, Madam Ji led the conversation in chaste Urdu and demonstrated a
knowledge and understanding of poetry rivaling that of Lahore's literati. Everyone
present wanted her to sing and she relented towards end of the evening. She
sang Khawaja Khurshid Anwar's Saagar Roye Lehrein Shor Machaien from Koel
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(1959), improvising the song with new taans and behlavas, for a good ten
minutes. The restaurant was almost empty by that time. Madam Ji's voice filled
the hall and floated over all of us. The recorded song is loosely based on raag
Shudh Sarang but flirts with raag Des as well. Madam Ji displayed her knowledge
of both that evening.
Khawaja Khurshid Anwar's song employs meends as the preferred alankaar
mostly eschewing taans. The mukhra of the song illustrates a perfect meend
traversing the whole saptak, executed flawlessly by Madam Ji without even a hint
of strain on the vocal chords. At the end of the piece with the words Nainan Bhar
Aaiyen, she executes a swift and subtle four note murki getting back to Nikhad in
the mandar saptak to start the mukhra. Her execution is masterful.
Noor Jehan belonged to a family of
musicians but her classical training
came primarily from musicians
outside of her family. She studied
formally with Ustad Ghulam
Muhammad Khan, for several
decades, and with Bade Ghulam Ali
Khan, briefly, before he migrated
to India. She developed a deep
understanding of music by listening intelligently to the songs of all good singers of
her time. Madam Ji maintained a
close association with Malika E
Mausiqui Roshanara Begum and
hosted her whenever she visited
Lahore from Lala Musa. Roshanara
Begum used to refer to Madam Ji as
siyaahi chut because of her unique
ability to acquire musical knowledge
from everyone that she listened to.
She played gracious host to Rasoolan
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Bai when she visited Lahore for the All Pakistan Music Conference. Madam Ji
made great efforts to
attend mehfils of Ustad
Salamat Ali Khan, Ustad
Fateh Ali Khan, Ustad
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
and Mukhtar Begum.
The close association
with the stalwarts of
classical music built a
solid
foundation for
Noor Jehan. She had the
intelligence to employ
her
knowledge
of
classical skillfully into her singing of ghazal and geet. Contrary to popular belief,
Madam Ji spent several days preparing for recording songs based on raags. She
would immerse herself in a raag that was the basis of the song she was to record
for a few days before the recording. She would diligently practice the raag with
Ustad Ghulam Muhammad and sometimes sing the raag and the song with other
members of her Ustad's family and her own, to get ready for her recording.
Aiman was Noor Jehan's favorite raag. Her sharp Gandhar and Nikhad were
ideally suited for the raag. She sang a
chota khayal, Raseelay More Rasia
Najariya Mila, for Rasheed Attre in
Mausiqar (1962). The song begins like
a Lakshan Geet starting with the
aarohi and avrohi followed by a short
pakar. Noor Jehan shows her
knowledge of both Hindustani and
Carnatic sangeet in this song. The use
of the pa DHA NI SA phrase, instead
of MA DHA NI SA, several times in aarohi is clearly a Carnatic practice whereas the
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taans employed in the song are decidedly Hindustani. During the second half of
the song, while singing sargam and taking taans, she moves to the taar saptak
with the grace of a leopard and, once there, roars like a lioness. The taans are
crisp and clean, breath control perfect, and the notes pitch perfect. The song is a
lesson in singing Aiman for students of music.
Noor Jehan sang hundreds of songs in Aiman, yet she brought great individuality
to each song, exploring the raag in
different ways to suit the mood
and the text of the song. The
Punjabi song by Wazir Afzal in
Aiman, Weh Ja Aj To Mein Teri
from Yaar Mastaane (1972), is
playful and full of hope, energy and
happiness. Gul Bakauli's Aao Ri
Piya Sung Khailain Hori, composed
again in Aiman, is serious and maintains a sobriety apropos for supplication.
Hassan Latif Lilak's Ae Wattan Ke Sajeelay Jawanoo is regal. The ghazal, Jab Yeh
Jan E Hazeen Waqf E Aalam Hui uses a complex and intricate structure in Aiman
whereas Mujh Se Pehli Si Muhabbat from Qaidi (1962) employs Aiman in a simple
and graceful form. While in the same raag, each song is distinct in mood, spirit
and structure. Noor Jehan's singing was not just about maintain fidelity to
classical raags; it was about getting the emotions and mood of the song right.
Noor Jahan sand Ahmed Faraz's ghazal,
Payam Aaye Hain US Yaar e Be Wafa
Ke Mujhe, primarily in the rarely heard
raag Zilaf. However, She almost
completely omits komal rikhab and
pancham deviating from Zilaf. The
alaap starts in a very melodious scale :
SA GA ma dha ni SA, SA' ni dha ma GA,
ma GA SA, 'ni, 'dha, 'ni, 'SA. In the
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second part of the asthai, Jisse Qaraar Na Aaya, an unexpected tension is created
by the sudden but assured introduction of the komal gandhar. The emphasis on
the note creates a feeling of sorrow, longing and pathos prevalent in the ghazal.
One line from the asthai, Nashe Se Kam To Nahin Yaad E Yaar Ka Aalam, deserves
special mention. Noor Jehan employs a controlled vibrato, almost the way notes
are wavered in aazan, evoking the sufi imagery of intoxication in the thought of
the beloved. The ghazal is a lesson in maintaining the theme, mood and
atmosphere of a song while fulfilling all demands of sur and laya.
A large number of songs sung by Madam Ji were not composed in classical raags.
She understood that, while a lot can be said
about raags, they are essentially tonal
frameworks for singing. A raag is defined, to a
large extent, completely by the aarohi, avarohi
and pakar. Even when she sang a song not
composed in a classical raag, she made sure
that the aarohi, avarohi and pakar was correctly
established for the song. This firm and assured
establishment of tonal parameters essentially
made each one of her songs a raag. Her
recorded pieces were obviously short but when
she sang her songs privately and in concerts,
she would expand and improvise them like khayals.
Her famous ghazal, Diyar E Noor Main Teera Shaboon Ka Saathee Ho is not based
on a classical raga. One sees glimpses of
several raags in the song composed by
Ustad Nazar Hussain. Noor Jehan uses
both Nikhaads and both Gandhars making
parts of the song unmistakingly Malgunji.
The almost complete omission of
Pancham and her emphasis on the
Madham are a part of Rageshri. There is a
glimpse of Bageshri and that of the
Carnatic Natakurunji in the antaras. The
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fact is that the song is neither Malgunji nor Rageshri, and certainly not Bageshri
and Natakurunji; it is a raag in itself with rules clearly defined by Nazar Saab and
Madam Ji, rules that she follows with remarkable fidelity.
In addition to sur and raag, Noor Jehan had mastery over laya and taal. "Every
singer understands laya and taal," she once told me. "But more is needed. You
need to understand the chaal of the
percussionist to sing well." In her
Punjabi song from Duniya Pyar Di
(1974), Bara Ji Karda Si Tun Milain, she
changes the style of her singing with
each new chaal of keharwa
effortlessly to maintain the spirit of the
Nazir Ali's composition. Master
Abdullah's song, Mahi Ve Sanu Bhul Na
Javin, from Malangi (1965) is a
masterpiece; the use of different
chaals of keharwa in the song, borders on genius. The antaras begin in simple
keharwa in line with the sad mood of the first two misras of the antara. As the
mood of the antara changes to hopeful in the third misra, the tabla moves to a
more celebratory keharwa. Noor Jehan handles both chaals masterfully clearly
delineating the changing mood of the poetry. Her knowledge of percussion was
not only limited to ghazal and geet.
Farrukh Bashir recorded a few classical
pieces for PTV's second Tarranum
series. I remember her singing Puriya
for that program draped in a purple silk
sari surrounded by her musicians,
attendants,
daughters
and
grandchildren. She sang vilambit in the
rarely used taal Ikwai and the drut in
ektala. In the drut portion (Mueenuddin
Khawajgan Der Kyun Lagai), Madam Ji
said both a bedam and a damdar tihai
with such precision that, when I played the video for my friend Ustad Tari Khan,
he exclaimed, "Vah! Vah! Kya ustad aurat hai!" and had me replay the piece three
times.
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Ustad Nazar Hussain's ghazal, Nigah E Jaur Sahi Dekhiye To Kam Se Kam, is a
particularly complex composition. I
remember the rehearsal sessions with
Madam Ji, Nazar Saab, tabla player
Ghulam Sabir, and a few other
musicians. When Nazar Saab sang the
ghazal, one of the musicians present
exclaimed that the composition was
betaali. Ghulam Sabir, too, felt that
the Nazar Saab had composed a song
that was off beat in parts; But Noor
Jehan got it, knowing fully well that
Nazar Saab had made no mistakes in composing the ghazal. She understood his
masterful use of rhythm and got it right the very first time. Indeed, it was a
challenge to gather the long antara, take a short pause, and land on the sam for
the mukhra, while maintaining correct tempo, but that is something Madam Ji did
with great facility and confidence.
Noor Jehan sang comfortably in a range of three octaves. It is true that some
musicians sing over larger ranges. However, the vocal range of a singer is only of
value when the quality of voice, pitch and singing is maintained throughout the
range; traversing a large vocal range at the expense of the quality of singing and
voice has no merit. It is here that Noor Jehan is incomparable. She maintains the
natural nasal quality of her voice and her tremendous singing skills in all of the
registers that she sings in.
Lata Mangeshkar chose to comment on
Noor Jehan’s vocal range when paying
her a posthumous tribute by
acknowledging that Noor Jehan could
sing as low and as high as she wanted
and that the quality of her voice always
remained the same no matter which
register she sang in. "Woh jahan tak
chahti thein, gaati thein, " Lata said.
"Aur aawaz oopar aur neechay aik jaisi
rehti thi."
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Madam Ji's throw of voice was exceptionally strong. Her voice filled the movie
theater where her songs were played. This
attribute made her range seem larger than three
octaves and allowed her to record qalandari
dhammals in an inimitable matter at remarkably
high pitches. The famous dhamaal, Shahbaz
Karay Parwaaz, from Maan Te Maama (1973) is
sung at a high pitch and in the mandar, madh
and taar saptaks. The quality of the song,
however, is not only maintaining her voice and
tone over the three registers. Her real talent is
demonstrated by the alankaars she employs
once she reaches the high notes of the taar
saptak. The virtuosity of her murki, aakaar ki
taan and phirrat demonstrated here is one for
the ages. In Khan Chacha (1972)'s song, Jina Teri
Marzi Nacha Beliya, she employs a short
gammak at the end of each antara, an alankaar rarely used by female vocalists
and almost never in ghazal and geet.
Madam Ji did not sing all her songs with force. She changed her style based on the
spirit of each song. In the late
eighties, she recorded an album of
Naats for EMI. Here she emphasized
on the delicacy of singing. The
opening piece was Salim Gilani's
naat, Be Hazur Sarwar E Sarwaran
based primarily on raag Audav
Bageshri. Noor Jehan establishes
the standard for singing naat here
by
focusing
on
devotion,
supplication and love without
compromising
any
of
the
requirements of raag and taal.
Percussion is kept low in the composition set to the seven (7) beats Roopak taal.
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Noor Jehan understands the structure of the taal and never emphasizes the sam
knowing fully well that it is one of the few taals where the sam has a khaali.
Audav Bageshri is the primary raag in the naat but Noor Jehan introduces the
shudh gandhar expertly to enhance the mood using it with greater emphasis than
is done in Audav Bageshri. The phrases, ga RE ga, RE SA and ma, SA RE SA, are
used throughout the song to enhance its devotional nature. She employs Bageshri
and Bageshri Bahar from the Kafi thaat and Bagkauns from the Aasavari thaat, as
and when needed, flowing in between related raags with ease and facility.
Madam Ji sang some seemingly vulgar and naughty songs for Punjabi movies
which became controversial. I once asked her about these songs and the reason
for her not having
refused
to
sing
them. "Na, main
kyun naa kardi," she
said in Punjabi.
"Main roti nain
khaani?" She told
me that, based on
the demands of the
characters in the
movie, she sang all
types of song much
the same way
actors played both
heros and villains.
She added that one
can and should only
criticize her choice in
songs based on
musical merit. "Je
main
besura
gaawan, ya betaala
gaawan, fer gal
karo." Indeed, no
matter how dirty
the words were, her
singing was pure
and spotless. A good
example is the
song, Kuj Phi Gai Ae,
Thori Paat Gai Ae,
from Dada (1977)
composed by Madam Ji's dear friend Tafu in raag Darbari. The lyrics of the song
were deemed so offensive by the Censor Board that Madam had to re-record the
song with a different, more acceptable, asthai. Of course, the singing in both
versions was flawless and all demands of Darbari were met with fidelity. Nothing
could touch the purity of Madam Ji's music. On another occasion, she said, "I am
not frigid. I have emotions and feelings. When I see an attractive man, I have a
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strange gudgudi in my stomach. I have naughty feelings. I am not afraid of sharing
them through my music. I have the courage, guts and honesty to do that. I am
afraid of no one. Other singers, who act proper and innocent, are either
hypocrites or lack feelings. I know the truth about all of them!"
Noor Jehan was a wonderful and indulgent mother. As a daughter, she supported
her family for as long as
needed. A great sister, she
paid for the treatment of
her mentally challenged
brothers for as long as they
were alive. She was a
dutiful and devoted wife to
both her husbands. As a
mistress, she was a true
enchantress. Noor Jehan
was a seductress, indulgent yet playful, as a lover. She knew how to love and how
to be loved. She was a dutiful shagird who supported her Ustad and his entire
family for most of their lives and an Ustad who faithfully tied a ganda to only one
but a talented student - Tarranum Naaz. She had led the life of a mother, a
daughter, a sister, a
student, a teacher and
a friend and led it
honestly. She had
keenly observed the
dynamics of each
relationship
and
experienced the entire
spectrum of emotions
involved with these
relationships. She had
felt them all. The
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understanding of emotions and the intensity with which she maintained all of her
relationships added a unique - and incomparable - dimension to her singing.
Madam Ji had an elephantine memory. I remember her picking up new tunes
composed by music directors in minutes. They only had to sing the song for her
once. "Pehli baar gana aapka hai," she would say. "Phir Mera."
Madam Ji did not believe in forgiving and forgetting. And even when she forgave,
she did not forget. She once saw my
interview of Tahira Syed in a magazine
and asked me how the "lamay taun
wali" was doing. She had heard
(Madam Ji heard everything) that her
marriage to Naeem Bukhari was on
the rocks. "I wanted her to be my
daughter in law. A long time ago, I
asked Pukhraj for her hand but instead
or agreeing gladly, she started playing
games. I would have treated Tahira like my own daughter but she didn't want to
marry my son. Now she is in a terrible marriage. I hope she is happy."
Firdaus stole the one love - Ejaz - Madam Ji cherished more than all others in her
life. A few years later, when failure, nature and drugs
took Firdaus' youth and Ejaz away, she went to
Madam Ji's home to beg for forgiveness. She sat at
her feet for a long time and started crying. When
Madam Ji forgave her, her crying became louder and
she could not control herself. Exhausted by her
crying, and relieved of her guilt, Firdaus soon fell
asleep on the carpet. Madam Ji left her on the carpet,
went to another room, brought back a blanket and
covered Firdaus with it. She then turned the lights off
and left the room. Firdaus had told her that her guilt
did not allow her to sleep at night. She wanted
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Firdaus to finally sleep peacefully. When Madam Ji forgave, she really did.
Noor Jehan created artistic truth in front of the microphone using her memories
to express emotion and feeling.
Stanislavski's method was best
employed by Noor
Jehan while
preparing to sing. She would get into
the right mood and requisite frame of
mind for a song well before starting to
sing and sometimes take hours after
the singing to return to her normal
self. Noor Jehan was a master of raag
and taal, gifted with a brilliant voice, a
broad vocal range and remarkable tonal quality. She had a great knowledge of
music and was a master of both aakaar and alankaar. Yet none of these qualities
made her Malika E Tarranum; it was her unique ability to add emotion, feeling
and sentiment to her music that made her the greatest singer of her and,
perhaps, all times. No other singer - not even the great Kundan Lal Saigal - has
ever been able to match the emotional veracity of Noor Jehan's songs. No one.
Noor Jehan had a great magnetism in her personality. Always the center of
attention, the life of the party, she held most people in awe with her beauty,
voice, social skills, wit and a naughty innocence.
I interviewed Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma for a
monthly publication many years ago. Among other
things, I asked him about musicians from Pakistan.
Noor Jehan was the only one he wanted to talk
about. Pandit Ji was not just enamored by her
musical prowess but was also a fan of persona and
presence. He told me that he wanted all other
sound to stop when Noor Jehan's songs were
playing so he could listen intently. He reminisced
about a dinner party at poet Zehra Nigah's flat in
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London where Noor Jehan was the guest along with Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia,
Ustad Shuakat Hussain Khan, Ustad Sultan Khan and several other senior
musicians who were in London to record for
Navras Records. After dinner, Madam Ji chose
to sing for the guests and started by singing
Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s poetry using the dining table
for percussion. She followed with a khayal in
raag Jaijaivati singing the bandish, Binti Ka
Kariye, made famous by her Ustad Bade
Ghulam Ali Khan. She ended the evening with
the thumri, Gori Tore Nainan Kaajar Bin Kaare.
Her rendition of the thumri in Pilu lasted over
an hour. Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma
remembers the night well. “Some of the
biggest names in music sat at the dining table
listening to Noor Jehan all night, with rapt attention, “ he told me. “She kept us
entranced for hours. Her Pilu brought tears to our eyes. The quality of her voice,
the sangat of the komal Gandhar and tivar Nikhad, and the roohdari touched my
heart. One does not hear such singing often. ”
Noor Jehan loved to visit London. She loved shopping for Sari's at Selfridges,
meeting touring musicians from India, eating at the Shezan restaurant at Cheval
Place, and generally enjoying the city's
bright summers. Exceedingly beautiful
daughter, Zil E Huma, still remembers
how Madam Ji used to get excited just
before the plane landed at Heathrow.
"Haaaye Huma, London aa gaya ae,"
she would exclaim. Unfortunately. not
all her trips to London were made for
pleasure. She visited the city several
times to help bail her ex husband, Ejaz Durrani, out of trouble he got himself into
by trying to smuggle contraband drugs into the United Kingdom. And while Ejaz
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never did anything to earn her love, Noor Jehan had never gotten over her
feelings for Ejaz. During one such visit, she was particularly depressed and asked
Ghulam Ali and Ustad Tari Khan, who were touring, to pay her a visit. She wanted
to listen to good music and promised to cook for them. Tari Khan told me that
Noor Jehan had prepared Qorma, But Karelay and Aaloo Ki Bhujia for them. "I
remember the food even today," Tari Khan told me. "I don't think I will ever
forget her cooking. She made chappatis for us herself. Just before serving Bhujia,
she cooked some whole spices without oil in the frying pan and then crushed
them after tying them in a napkin. She then covered the Bhujia with the spices
and covered the dish so that the aroma of the spices would sink into the potatoes
which she had cut into very small pieces, and cooked in a way that their insides
were soft and the outsides crisp. I have
never had something as delicious in my
life. I am not just a fan of her singing but
also of her cooking. I will forget Noor
Jehan's cooking only when I forget tabla."
After the dinner, Ghulam Ali sang for Noor
Jehan with Tari Khan on the tabla. A few
hours later she decided to sing. She picked
Nisar Bazmi's composition from Meri
Zindagi Hai Naghma, Tera Kisi Pe Aaye Dil.
During the third antara, Madam Ji broke
down and started crying uncontrollably.
Ghulam Ali, Tari Khan and her companion,
Achi Mian, all failed to console her and she
left the room and retreated to her bedroom. A full thirty minutes later, she
emerged from her room, having refreshed her make-up, and asked them, "Tussi
Dasso, Kehra Gaana Suno Ge?" All of them started laughing, spending the rest of
the night singing and sharing anecdotes and jokes. She was emotional,
temperamental and sensitive, but always in control.
Noor Jehan held Faiz Ahmed Faiz in very high regard. She canceled her recordings
to visit him at his residence after he returned home after a protracted period of
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incarceration to celebrate with him and their friend, Sanjan Nagar's Raza Kazim.
Faiz Saab asked Noor Jehan to sing some of his poetry for him and Raza Kazim
seized the opportunity to record her without any musical
instruments and equalization, just her pure voice. Raza
Kazim recounted the events of the evening for me when
we met years later at a wedding at the Islamabad
Marriott and very graciously shared his recording with
me a few days later. Faiz Saab kept picking poems for
Noor Jehan to compose on the spot and sing for him,
that evening. Mujh Se Pehli Si Muhabbat, Aaj Ki Raat,
Donon Jahan Teri Muhabbat Main Haar Ke, Aa Ke
Wabasta Hain, and many other poems were sung by
Noor Jehan for the first time that day. A few hours of music, poetry recitation,
food, and drink later, all three were high on Cherry Brandy when Noor Jehan
started to sing her famous Punjabi song, Ve Mundiya Sialkotiya, flirting innocently
with the newly released and young Faiz Ahmed Faiz who, of course, hailed from
Sialkot. Only Madam Ji could do this with class!
Noor Jehan was a woman of great wit and sense of humor. Known for her ability
to tell jokes - mostly ones that were off color - she
could hold her own in serious conversations as well.
When hurt, she could be caustic and vicious but
generally her touch was warm and kind. Madam Ji
recorded her famous national song in Bhairavi, Ae
Puttar Hattan Te Nain Wikde, with two great
musicians - Ustad Nazim Ali Khan on sarangi and
Ustad Miyan Shaukat Hussain Khan on tabla. The
recording session was long. The musicians, the poet,
and Madam Ji were all overcome with emotions
during the recording owing to the power of the lyrics
and the general national mood at the time. They
could not think straight. Recording the song was difficult. Madam Ji, who was
known for recording songs in one take, needed more than twenty that day. She
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would invariably break down when singing the verse, Tan Bhaag Ne Behn
Bharawan De Jinnan Godiyan Veer Khidae Ne. In certain takes, the musicians
would start crying and the recording had to be stopped.
The final take took place late in the evening and
everyone was jubilant about its quality. Shaukat Saab,
on the other hand, was quieter than usual and visibly
sad. His first wife had not been able to bear him any
children and he was far too much of a gentleman to
consider a second marriage. He did not have an heir.
Madam Ji knew why Shaukat Saab was sad. She walked
up to him, grabbed his wrist, and asked him to come
home with her. "What's the big deal," she said in
Punjabi. "Let's go home and make babies." This made
the great Ustad who known for his shyness around women - he had trouble
playing with Farida Khanum due to her low necklines - smile. "God has never
turned down my prayer," she added in a more serious town. "I will pray for you."
A few years later, our Wadde Ustani Ji convinced the reluctant Shaukat Saab to
marry for the second time. Choti Ustani Ji bore him three (3) sons and four (4)
daughters..
The recording of Sufi Tabbasum's Mera Sohna Shehr Qasur Nin was done in the
presence of the highly respected poet. The song
turned out to be a magical number and the
musicians suggested that they all go to Qasur to
celebrate. This was during the unfortunate 1965
war between India and Pakistan. Madam Ji did
not want the celebration in Qasur and told Sufi
Saab that she could not risk visiting her
hometown with him because of the fear of
bombing. "You have nothing to lose," she joked
with him. "But I am a respectable woman. I can't afford to be found buried under
the rubble with you!"
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In 1989, I decided to do a detailed and comprehensive interview of Madam Ji. I
called her to set the interview up and was surprised when she immediately
agreed to sitting down and talking to me about her life and her music. She did not
give me a date and time but asked that I call her in a few days to make an
appointment. I did just that a few days later and many times subsequently.
Madam Ji always answered her phone herself and always had a good excuse to
postpone the interview she had promised. I asked film actor Muhammad Ali to
help me secure the interview. He immediately called Madam Ji who told him that
she herself wanted to sit down with me but had been busy. She promised
Muhammad Ali to call me herself with a date and time. She never did. I was far
too young and far too much in love with Madam Ji to give up, and enlisted
television actor Azmul Haq's help to get me the interview I wanted. He and I
visited Madam Ji's near Liberty market at two in the morning. Her home was alive
and bustling with activity even at that hour. There were several guests sitting on
the floor in a room next to the dining room eating a late dinner. Daughter Tina
and her friends were planning a trip to Peshawar to buy clothes and kept asking
Madam Ji for more money, ten grand at a time. Several young maidservants were
sleeping on the floor all around the house. Madam Ji's companion, Acchi Mian,
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kept bringing saris on hangers to help Madam Ji choose what she would wear the
following day. An older gentleman, dressed in a suit and wearing a necktie, sat in
the drawing room having tea and sandwiches , served elegantly from a well laid
dumbwaiter tea cart. And a few beggars kept
trying to enter the home and ask Madam Ji for
money. Madam Ji was at the center of this very
active, if somewhat chaotic, household and
paying attention to each and everyone. She
seemed to be in full control of all the activity in
her home and aware of all that was going on.
When Azmul Haq introduced me, she told him
that she already knew me well and had been
planning on sharing the story of her life with me
for some time. She turned to me and said,
"Mujhe maaf karna beta. Life is very busy. Main
chahti hun ke aap jaise parhe likhay naujawan
ke sath interview karoon magar waqt nahin
milta." She promised an interview within the month. The interview never
materialized and in August that year, I left Pakistan for the United States. When I
called her to say goodbye, she was very kind. "Beta, wahan ja kar mehnat karna,
maan baap ko khush rakhna, mulk ki izzat barhana." she said. "Do not forget us
when in the United States. Hum ab wahan aa kar tumhein interview denge." She
never did.
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