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| Zia Mohyeddin and Amitabh Bachchan in Bombay |
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Sunday, March 07, 2010
Aakar Patel
Last month, we had the opportunity to listen to Zia Mohyeddin. He had been invited here as part of the Aman ki Asha programme that Jang and the Times of India have organised. It's an excellent initiative because in the absence of trade, and given that we can hardly agree on anything else, culture is the one thing we can share comfortably.
A few years ago I had read about Mohyeddin's famous annual recitations in Pakistan. A friend from Lahore then sent three compact discs of his performances recorded at what I think were functions of Pakistani-Americans.
The recordings included an irreverent one about different Pakistani communities and their cultural traits. There was one funny story about Chinioti traders. There was also a smoothly delivered dialogue in English between man and God about the nature of woman. I had read about Mohyeddin's readings of Ghalib's letters, but those were not included in the recordings.
These were the sort of things I had wanted to listen to from Mohyeddin. I read that Mohyeddin had revived the more traditional style of reciting Urdu poetry. This had been eclipsed 50 years ago by the hammy style of Z A Bokhari, brother of humorist Patras. I looked forward to understanding what that meant.
The event was at the Bandra fort, built by the Portuguese in 1640, and overlooking the Mahim bay. The fort has been restored partly, from funds provided by actress and legislator Shabana Azmi, and an amphitheatre has been built in it where cultural events are frequently held.
The programme had two items: Mohyeddin reciting Faiz and Amitabh Bachchan reciting the verse of his father, Harivanshrai.
The amphitheatre seats about 500 and it was packed. In the front row were Jaya Bachchan and also a couple of other people from Bollywood. I recognised the actress Vidya Balan, who is beautiful, and the director Imtiaz Ali.
Zia Mohyeddin came out to applause, wearing a dark suit and tie. His jacket was elegantly cut, with his cufflinks showing. He was trim, with a full head of hair and looked senatorial, younger than 77. He has a superb, deep voice and the moment he began, the crowd knew it was in the presence of something superior.
The passes to the event had been free. When this happens in India organisers tend to print more passes than are seats. This is because Indians often pick up free passes and then do not show up. This evening, most people did and that meant that many were left out.
Moments into Mohyeddin's recitation, the ones left outside began shouting a chorus of "hai hai", demanding to be let in. Mohyeddin stiffened for one moment and many of us thought it might be the Shiv Sena or some such group trying to oppose Aman ki Asha.
This protest carried on for a few minutes and disturbed the atmosphere irrevocably. It drew attention away from the recitation, and attention was needed because Mohyeddin was reading Faiz, a difficult poet.
It isn't clear whether he chose Faiz or the organisers asked him to read Faiz. I think the latter is more likely, though Mohyeddin often reads him and one of my discs is called Faiz Sahab Ki Mohabbat Mein.
Perhaps 20, and my guess is fewer, people in the audience could appreciate the poetry. Faiz's poems often have many Persian words and phrases. I imagine he is also a difficult poet for most Pakistanis. In this case his quality was wasted because Aman ki Asha is about peace through familiarity of culture. What Mohyeddin recited actually accentuated difference.
Faiz is thought to be a poet of protest and I'm not sure why his writing wasn't simpler, like the verse of Jalib. Mohyeddin said that Faiz was not only a political poet ("siyasi sha'ir") and that some of his poems were also purely on romance.
There are easy Faiz poems, and those are his apolitical ones, like Gulon mein rang bharay. Mohyeddin was witty and a couple of times interrupted his recitation to introduce a particular poem. Though he did not recite Gulon, he said of it that at mushairas Faiz would refuse to recite it saying "Woh to Mehdi Hasan ki ho gayi". Similarly, he would say of Subh-e-Azadi that "Woh to Zia ki ho gayi".
This was the one Faiz poem many in the audience were familiar with, and its opening lines ("Yeh daagh daagh ujaalaa, yeh shab-gazida sahar...") were applauded. I think Indians have misread the poem. We assume this is a rejection of Partition, but it's not. It's actually a pining for another form of government. He is referring to what happened after 1947 and what should have been. This is in line with his communist principles. Faiz's famous translator is Victor Kiernan, also a communist.
Is the problem of South Asians that we don't have the right sort of government? Faiz thought so as did the other poets of the Progressive Movement. It is difficult to understand why they thought this when the problems of India, for instance, are so clearly the result of our culture and self-inflicted.
Mohyeddin recited for about 40 minutes, in which time mobile phones went off only three times which is quite good by our standards. After this, the organisers asked Jaya Bachchan to speak, introducing her so fawningly and acting so familiarly with her that it was embarrassing. She was surprised to be asked to speak and came on stage to call out her husband, muffing her lines.
Amitabh Bachchan came on with a large band. He wore a theatrical costume, a bright red kurta with a black design.
His father was famous for one particular poem called Madhushala (maikhana/tavern). I bought a copy of it last year and after reading it I couldn't understand why it was famous. It is a mediocre poem, and the poet was 27 when he wrote it. The poem is introduced in the edition I have by a former professor of Benaras Hindu University. This man was present at one of the poem's first readings in the 1930s at the university. His introduction is quite revealing, and it's disturbing that someone of such mediocrity should have been in the position of influencing students.
He says that he wrote a parody of the poem to entertain his students while Bachchan rested between verses (it is a long poem). The verse he offers as a sample is: "Lakh piyein, do lakh piyein, par kabhi nahin thaknewala: Agar pilanay ka dum hai tau jari rakh yeh Madhushala".
Harivanshrai's verse is in similar vein, with forced rhyme and lines of no particular merit. So dull is the thing that when the singer Manna De set it to song he had to reach out to verse 66 for a decent line because what goes before it is unrelentingly banal.
Bachchan, like Mohyeddin, is an orator of quality. However, he does not recite his father's poem. Instead he insists on singing it, and he cannot sing well. He has picked the wrong key, and it's too high for him. His modulation is poor and he surrenders the control that he otherwise has when he talks.
The singing was to a weak melody, and the band's interventions were dreadful. The performance took on the mindless quality of a satsang, a religious gathering, and many around me were waving their arms about as Indians are wont to do.
Bachchan had the grave persona that he wears so well but what he produced was not of comparative quality. He says he is becoming increasingly contemplative of the writings of his father, who passed away a few years ago. This came through quite clearly.
I think the event was a good thing and we should have more exchange of this fashion. But the programme should have been thought through a little. Faiz was chosen because he is thought to be a unifying poet; what was the point to picking Harivanshrai's poetry? That is not clear.
Zia Mohyeddin could have entertained the same audience with something simpler in Urdu and also in English. I hope we have another chance to listen to him, more relaxed and offering us something similar to what he offers Lahore every year.
The columnist is writing a book on the changing world of servants in India, to be published by Random House. Email: aakar.patel@gmail. com
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