Beyond the Boundary Line
By Ghazala Akbar
Kuwait
At the risk of enraging Pakistani nationalists or cross- border Internet trolls of the Hindutva variety, I would like to place on record my profound grief and sorrow at the passing away in quick succession of two Indian icons: Mansur Ali Khan, the former Indian cricket captain, 9th Nawab of Pataudi and the majestic Jagjit Singh, the prince of ghazals.
Is there any common thread between these two seemingly disparate personalities, one a Sikh, the other a Muslim? There is. One arrived with the proverbial silver spoon in his grandfather’s palace in the princely state of Bhopal, the latter in a village in the fabled land of kings, Rajasthan, albeit in humbler circumstances. Both were born in 1941 and died at the age of 70 within a few weeks of each other. Both married Bengali women of extraordinary beauty and talent. Both suffered personal tragedies -- Pataudi lost the sight of an eye and Jagjit Singh his only son, in a road accident. Both were able to overcome physical and emotional trauma. Through sheer grit and determination, both men continued their careers -- and reached the pinnacle of their professions -- dazzling, entertaining and capturing the hearts of millions along their journey through life.
There is another profound link between the two. In death, they have managed to do the impossible-- unite the Asian sub-continent, in grief. A cursory glance at the print, electronic and social media over the past few weeks, testifies to a genuine outpouring of sadness, a deep sense of loss and a wave of nostalgia felt amongst the Asian Diaspora at the passing away of these two celebrated men.
In Pakistan where the coverage has been relentless, the tone of the plaudits is almost familial. As the eulogies and tributes pour in there is an underlying theme. Repetitious and a tad trite but the subliminal message is inescapable: music and sport have no boundaries. In spite of all our political differences, there is much common ground and the evidence of a composite culture. Try as we might to put ourselves into an ideological strait-jacket or attempt to reinvent ourselves into some medieval Emirate, there are ties of blood and culture between them and us that cannot be obliterated.
What is it about these two men that makes Pakistanis stand up and take notice? In the case of Pataudi, there is a direct blood relationship. From both his mother and father, he is related to several families in Pakistan. His paternal uncle Sher Ali Khan was a General in the Pakistan Army and his cousin Isfandyar, a current serving General. Another maternal cousin is the former Foreign Secretary and Chairman of the Pakistan Cricket Board, Shahriyar Khan. His aunt, Abida Sultan, was the Karachi head of the Council Muslim League and campaigned for Miss Jinnah against President Ayub Khan. Through his grandmother, he is linked to the family of the former Foreign Minister Shah Mahmood Qureishi and the poet Jamiluddin Aali, author of some of our best- loved national songs.
The names and designations of his Pakistani relatives are significant. For it has been recently alleged in some quarters that those who migrated from India in 1947 have made few sacrifices for the Pakistani State and are somewhat ambivalent in their loyalties! In India too, those who remained behind by choice or by force of circumstances are also treated with a degree of suspicion, their motives suspect. Pataudi’s Pakistan connection brings into sharp focus the heartbreak that ensued during the division of the subcontinent. His family is one of many in Pakistan and India for whom Partition was not just political and physical but deeply personal -- a division of the heart. This applies equally to Hindu, Sikh, Parsi and Christian families.
Pataudi captained the Indian Cricket team for 41 tests. Unfortunately his playing career coincided with an era when there were no cricket ties between the two countries .The 1965 War had put a stop to that. Pakistanis were unable to see him play and he could not play against Pakistan. However, even if they were robbed of that opportunity, the glamorous cricketer’s exploits on and off the field were followed avidly in Pakistan -- particularly his relationship to the actress Sharmila Tagore, a grand niece of the great Bengali poet and Nobel Prize winner, Rabindranath Tagore. The inter-communal marriage raised eyebrows on both sides of the border. It wouldn’t last, the pundits said. They were wrong. The marriage lasted forty-two years. Of their three children, the actor Saif Ali Khan is a Bollywood star and a household name in Pakistan.
While Pataudi has ties of blood to Pakistan, the singer Jagjit Singh is inexorably linked to Pakistani hearts through his music -- particularly his superb Urdu ghazals and geets. Along with his Bengali wife Chitra, he trod a new path in this genre by introducing western instruments, like the guitar and percussion alongside the sitar, harmonium and tabla. Often the modern ghazals and geets that he chose to sing were simple in verse, untangled from the heavy Persian imagery of classic Urdu poetry. This may not have appealed to the connoisseur, but it did strike a chord with millions. That is not to say that Jagjit was a fusionist who compromised. Far from it. He was well-versed in Indian classical music traditions and firmly embedded in its roots. He was inspired by the classicism of Begum Akhtar, Talat Mahmood, Mehdi Hasan, Iqbal Bano, and Farida Khanum but he carved his own niche within that mould. In later years, it was noticeable that he gravitated towards a more traditional approach.
Perhaps his greatest service to Pakistan and Urdu lovers all over the sub-continent are his compositions for Gulzar’s popular TV serial, Mirza Ghalib. (Here again there is a Pataudi connection as Mansur Ali Khan’s family is also related to the poet through his wife Umrao Begum). Jagjit and Chitra Singh’s renditions re-kindled interest in the life and works of the 18th Century poet, spurring fresh scholarship and winning over a new and younger audience. It is worth recalling that in the Zia-ul-Haq era, the works of Mirza Ghalib had found official disfavour in Pakistan. The cultural police and our moral guardians had downgraded his poetry and prose as being irreverent to our national ethos.
In triggering the Ghalib revival, Jagjit Singh did a favour to both -- Pakistan and India. Today there is a statue of the poet in the heart of old Delhi and his memorial in Gali Qasim Jan, Ballimaran, Chandni Chowk, is a much sought after destination for Ghalib aficionados.
The popularity of Jagjit’s ghazals has also been a gentle reminder to Indians that the Urdu language is not a foreign tongue but indigenous to their country. It originated and developed in India. Somewhere along the way it became politicised, associated with a particular community and ultimately with another country. However, it was, is and will remain an Indian language. A major portion of Ghalib’s letters is addressed to Har Gopal Tafta, his shagird and friend. His monumental work, Dastambu, chronicling the aftermath of the 1857 War of Independence—in which both Hindus and Muslims suffered was published with the help of Tafta.
At the commemoration of the 150 th anniversary of the war on May 10, 2007, Jagjit Singh sang lagtanaheen hai dil mera ... written in exile by Ghalib’s patron, Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal Emperor. Sadly, there was no official representation from Pakistan at the ceremony.
As we mourn the death of these fine Indians we also owe it to their memories to acknowledge the fact that in spite of our differences there are many common meeting grounds. There are ties of history, of culture and blood. While we continue the search for political solutions—we must also stress and highlight the similarities. More cultural exchanges, more cricket matches, more family re-unions will help break the ice, renew old friendships and start new ones. If we can unite in grief, we can also come together in joy and celebration. National boundaries are to be maintained but there should be fewer divisions of the heart.
