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 Ghazal maestro Mehdi Hassan is dead
Mehdi Hassan, the India-born Pakistani ghazal maestro, passed away
at a Karachi hospital Wednesday after a prolonged illness. He was
84.
His son Arif told Geo News »
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The first I heard about Mehdi Hassan,
whom now I call an amazing "ghazal traash" (sculptor of ghazals),
was in 1966 when a friend of mine brought me a reel-to-reel tape
of a Pakistani Radio recording of something he said would
spellbind me. He insisted that he has never heard such a voice,
such meticulous pronunciation of Urdu and such articulation of the
words, especially while singing ghazals by famous Urdu poets.
"Trust me," he said.
Knowing our taste for ghazals, I completely believed him. But the
problem was I, being just a student, did not have a reel-to-reel
tape recorder. But soon I found one and we were enthralled to find
out that it was a recording of an upcoming Pakistani ghazal singer
Mehdi Hassan who was singing his famous ghazal, "Gulon mein rang
bhare". We loved it. So far the only ghazals I had heard were all
sung by Begum Akhtar such as "Aye muhabbat tere anjam pe rona aya".
It so happened, the next time I heard Mehdi Hassan was after I had
arrived in Washington as a student in the 1970s. I think, it was
his first live concert in Washington and I was excited that I am
going to see him sing live on stage, almost "roobaroo" (face to
face).
And for more than two hours he showed us how a ghazal should be
sung, how it can be composed in an Indian raga to make it
immortal, and how and when, which part of the verse should be
highlighted. Basically, what I felt was that only Mehdi Hassan
could bring the real meaning and spirit of the ghazals and tell
you with great ease what the "shayar" (the poet) really wants to
say. It could be "Yeh dhuan kahan se uthta hai" or "Yeh rakh akhir
dil na banjaye" or "Ranjish hi sahi".
And much later after another concert in the US capital, when I
interviewed him on behalf of Voice of America, he confirmed all of
what I had thought about him and his magic. He said he chose to
compose them into ragas because a raga, be it Bhairavi or Darbari,
always sounds fresh and once a ghazal is composed in that raga,
the ghazal will always remain popular and never die. And he said
he always tries to find out what is the "bhava" or the "emotional
premise" of a particular ghazal and then chooses a raga that can
bring the poet's feelings out so that they can touch the hearts of
the audience.
And today, most music lovers will agree with me, that all his
ghazals were composed in a way that even today they magically
highlight the poet's feelings in a way that they really overwhelm
us.
That is why, unlike others, I don't call him the King of Ghazals
as people have often described late Jagjit Singhji, another
stalwart. I love Jagjit's gayaki also, but for me he with his
heavy voice and subtle nuances, was like a "very well-trained
horse who was running on a well defined track" while Mehdi Hassan
for me is like a "wild deer running freely, hither and thither, in
green pastures or sometimes in dense jungles, but always coming
back to the basic raga and or as they say in Hindi, the 'sum'." I
find Mehdi Hassan even two notches above Ghulam Ali sahib whom I
also admire very fondly.
So instead of King of Ghazals, I like to call Mehdi Hassan a "ghazal
traash", who, by his "gayaki" and purely magical voice, chisels an
imaginary and abstract statute of sounds - the ghazal. The notes
are so true that it is difficult sometimes to separate his lower
notes from those of the harmonium.
I always feel he is like a "sangtraash" who first chooses, say a
sad romantic ghazal by Ahmed Faraz, and then selects a raga to go
with its mood, and then with his skillful husky voice and true
notes, he gives the ghazal its real shape - sculpting at some
places and chiselling at others - to bring to us the real
"emotional premise" of the poet, the true spirit in which it was
written. And he is always successful in doing so and warming our
hearts, because he does that with the most appropriate Indian
raga.
For me, he brought and established a new era in the ghazal gayaki.
The styles of the ghazal gayaki will be always known as "the
pre-Mehdi Hassan era", and "the post Mehdi Hassan era" styles. And
no wonder in this "post Mehdi Hassan era", we see so many male
Ghazal singers trying to follow his style.
I can never forget how my little son and daughter, sitting in my
lap in my family room in Virginia, used to listen to Mehdi Hassan,
even though they did not understand the language. But the result
is heartwarming. My son Brittan is always questioning me about the
different ragas and their moods and wants me to leave for him my
huge collection of Mehdi Hassan ghazals once I depart this world.
And my daughter Samiha loves Indian classical music, and the other
day, called from Durham to ask me what the word "suroor" means in
Urdu.
My last "roobaroo mulakat" (face to face meeting) with the maestro
was in Washington on a beautiful summer evening at a live concert
arranged by the Smithsonian Institute in the lawns of one of their
museums. I can never forget when my ghazal god, limped as he rose
from the chair, and with great difficulty and with the help of his
sons, slowly climbed the 10 or so stairs to reach the podium. I
was sitting on the lawns below among some 150 fans, with my friend
Shekhar and his wife Urmil (the most ardent fans of Mehdi Hassan I
have found till today). We were concerned why the maestro is
physically faltering and wondered whether he will be able to sing
as usual. But when he began singing in his "even deeper and
huskier than before" voice, we were reassured that the "shola"
(fire) is still not extinct at all.
And now that he is gone, and his voice fills the stillness of my
small living room in New Delhi, I wonder if ever there will be
another Mehdi Hassan, my "Ghazal traash". And as his voice takes
over the silence of the room around me, singing "Shola tha jal
bujha hoon, hawaein mujhe na do, mein kab ka ja chuka hoon,
sadayeien mujhe na do", I feel tears quietly rolling down my
cheeks. And I feel he will live forever. He can never die - not
for me or for anyone who loves ghazals, and definitely not for
anyone who is a serious ghazal singer.
Ravi M. Khanna is a longtime South Asia observer and a lover of
classical music. He just published a book called "TV News Writing
Made Easy for Newcomers". He can be reached at his website
newsexpertravikhanna.com
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