A tribute to Jagjit Singh — Indian Ghazal loses its king

I would not go as far as to say “Ghazal loses its king” as long as Mehdi Hassan rules that space, even though critically ill. For no singer has ever been able to render the ghazal in the classical mould that he has done. But yes, Indian Ghazal, if there is such an entity because music recognises no boundaries, has certainly lost its golden voice… a voice that was as smooth as silk, as comforting and soothing as capable of reaching down deep within your soul and unlocking moments and memories, love, pain, laughter, passion and emotions one thought belonged to the past.

Jagjit's rendition of the Ghazal, or Urdu poetry, was effortless, and he tugged at your heart strings while singing the song of love. This in essence is the meaning of the word ghazal, which is basically an expression of love or “conversation with the beloved”!

With his mellifluous voice, he sang ghazals such as Sarakti jayen hei rukh se nakab ahista ahista , (The veil slips from your face gently), Mil kar juda huey toh na soya karengey hum (After parting, let's not sleep through the night), Tere khushboo mei basey khat mai jalata kaisey (How could I burn the letters seeped in your fragrance), Apney haathon ki lakeero mei basa dey mujh ko (Engrave me in the lines on your palm), with a consummate ease and effortlessness that was mindblowing.

I would say he was at his most melodious and intense while rendering Qateel Shifai's ghazals such as Kiya hei pyar jissey humney zindagi ki tarah (The one I loved like life itself) or Apney haatho ki lakeero se . He could bring out the romance, the longing, the desperation, the pathos, the passion, the rejection and dejection of the lover that Shifai captured so magically in his Urdu poetry.

Kagaz ki kashti , sung along with wife Chitra Singh, was perhaps Jagjit's most popular ghazals, but his repertoire of the song of love was so vast and sweeping that it is difficult to zero down on the most favourite. Coming to my favourite Jagjit ghazals, they are less well-known. One is Jab kisi sey koi gila rakhna, saameny apne aaina rakhna (When you accuse somebody, place a mirror before you). This has a couplet which goes: Masjiden hain namaaziyon ke liye, Apne ghar mein kahin khuda rakhna (Mosques are for the religious, keep the almighty in your home). Jagjit's rendering of such couplets can bring out the wah-wahs or encores in any mehfil .

Another one I have to listen to on the treadmill each morning is the one which was filmed so beautifully on Shabana Azmi in Mahesh Bhatt's immortal film Arth: Koi yeh kaisey bataye ki woh tanha kyo hei, Woh jo apna tha kabhi aaj kisika kyo hei (Somebody please tell me why the one who was mine is today a stranger belonging to another). Sounds a little trite, doesn't it? But then the English translation of many Urdu couplets kills the spirit in which the shayari /poetry was composed.

I interviewed Jagjit and Chitra Singh in Chennai about 20 years ago; he came through as a very gentle, affable and decent human being. But the passion and the fire, the pathos and the emotions that he packed into his ghazals were missing. But in hind thought, one felt it was as well that he reserved these emotions for the singing of the ghazal and did not fritter them away on journalists and their banal questions. Bidding adieu to the Ghazal maestro and imagining him holding his own magic mehfil in another world I can only hum – and terribly, at that – another favourite of mine: Duniya jissey kehtey hei, jadoo ka khilona hei; Mil jaye toh mitti hei, kho jaye toh sona hei (This world is a mirage; if you get it, it is worth dust; if you don't, it is as precious as gold).

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