Laaltain

Farida Apa Ke Naam

10 دسمبر، 2013

Chin­tan Girish Modi

Chintan-Header

It was a love­ly Thurs­day evening in Mum­bai. I had just sub­mit­ted the final assign­ment for my course in Peace and Con­flict Stud­ies, and felt like cel­e­brat­ing the moment with some music. Brows­ing the col­lec­tion on my lap­top, I came across a gem sung by Fari­da Khanum: ‘Mohab­bat Karnewaale Kam Na Honge’! I dare not try to cap­ture that sub­lime feel­ing through the lim­it­ed resources of lan­guage.

It brought back three hap­py mem­o­ries from my recent trip to Pak­istan. The first was from a post-din­ner out­ing in the com­pa­ny of friends Owais Rana and Abdul Mueed, chai, jalebis and gulab jamun at the dim­ly lit rooftop of Andaaz, a restau­rant in Lahore that I high­ly rec­om­mend. Fari­da Apa’s ‘Aaj Jaane Ki Zid Na Karo’, play­ing in the back­ground, was the per­fect accom­pa­ni­ment to that spec­tac­u­lar view of the Bad­shahi masjid, its moon­lit minarets, and the majesty of its silence on that win­try night in Lahore.

The sec­ond was from a car ride with two oth­er friends Abdul Majeed and Sam­reen Shah­baz on the way back from Lahore Uni­ver­si­ty of Man­age­ment Sci­ences, after some stim­u­lat­ing con­ver­sa­tion with a pro­fes­sor, and some deli­cious dal-roti-achaar from the cafe­te­ria. Abdul had been lucky enough to make it to Fari­da Apa’s per­for­mance at the Khayaal Fes­ti­val of Arts and Lit­er­a­ture a few days ago, and was regal­ing us with rec­ol­lec­tions from that evening. Soon after, we were lis­ten­ing to ‘Aaj Jaane Ki Zid Na Karo’ and ‘Woh Mujhse Se Hue Hum Kalam Allah Allah’ in the car, on loop, for almost an hour, until we reached the Wazir Khan masjid.

The third was from just after we stepped out of the Wazir Khan masjid and were on our way to Gurud­wara Dera Sahib. I remem­ber tak­ing out my phone, with Fari­da Apa’s voice singing in my soul, and tex­ting anoth­er friend Osama Moti­wala in Karachi, “Yaar, Fari­da Khanum ki aawaaz mein jan­nat hai. Bas mil­va do unse.” What I want­ed to do at that moment was just meet this lady, touch her feet and seek her bless­ings.

It is amaz­ing what music can do, the emo­tions it can bring up, the mem­o­ries it can recre­ate. Sit­ting in Mum­bai and float­ing in that Lahori dream­scape, I was sud­den­ly thrown into the cesspool of real­i­ty. My cousin heard me singing ‘Mohab­bat Karnewale Kam Na Honge’, and said, “Oh, is that a Pak­istani song?” I said, “It is a beau­ti­ful song, and yes, the singer lives in Pak­istan.” He replied, “You are becom­ing com­plete­ly Pak­istani. You just came back from there, you talk about that place all the time, and now you are even singing Pak­istani songs. You should give up the right to sing your nation­al anthem now. Learn their nation­al anthem and sing that.”

I was sur­prised, amused, dis­turbed, all at the same time. And I told myself, “Chin­tan, this will come your way, again. Sev­er­al times. Your job is to sing your song. Just do that.”


About the author: Chin­tan Girish Modi is an inde­pen­dent edu­ca­tor, writer and researcher liv­ing in Mum­bai. He was recent­ly in Pak­istan for the Lahore Children’s Lit­er­a­ture Fes­ti­val orga­nized by Idara-e-Taleem-o-Agahi and Oxford Uni­ver­si­ty Press. His work is locat­ed at the inter­sec­tion of edu­ca­tion, arts and peace­build­ing. He can be reached at chintan.backups@gmail.com


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