A Fan Recalls

Zia Gurchani

Chaklala Airport at dusk, a turbo-propeller aeroplane taxies to a stop. As a young teenager, skinny and wide-eyed, I watch passengers disembark. In the darkness, a face appears in the doorway and dazzles. Dimpled smiles are the first thing you notice. Her coffee brown sari with golden polka dots makes her stand out. Descending the stairs is the most glamorous star of the subcontinent, already a legend in her lifetime. Noor Jehan has flown in from Lahore.

Respectfully addressed as 'Madam', officially titled as The Melody Queen', and referred to as Malika-e-Tarrannum. Her beauty and glamour is accompanied in wedding-cake vulgarity by the notorious General Rani. In contrast to her glitter, General Rani is dressed in shriek orange. She sweeps past me, tossing me a sugary mischievous smile like a naughty school girl. Giddy with her overwhelming grandeur I am traumatized! Almost. To be smiled at by the supreme star of cinema, the ultimate diva of musical classics, is an adolescent fantasy.

A few weeks later luck puts me on a plane next to Noor Jehan. The heroine of Bombay's glory days, the singer who stayed a laugh ahead of everyone, powders her face. I gawk, smile, gawk some more and my fascination gets the better of me... I offer her my paper cup with cola in it, brimming with ice. The Queen pauses her powdering, bombs me with sugary smiles, dimples included.

"I don't take ice in anything." I must have looked crestfallen because she began talking to me. In a society of "wannabes" Noor Jehan makes me feel 'wanted.' Dividing my concentration between her and general Rani, I found Noor Jehan's natural ability to charm. God's gift. She came as advertised. Fate sealed the moment and we became friends, she not only gave me her phone number of Lahore, but insisted I call her up. Those days they had five digit numbers. She made me memorize her number then and there. When disembarking, she made me repeat it, saying in Urdu: "Assi. Assi, char, bas yeh yaad rakhna!”

All through the '80s and '90s I stayed what I had been in the first place, a devout fan. Obsessed with her personality I even had her portraits framed in my room. No matter how many times I met her or spoke with her, her charisma never diminished for me.

The press usually painted a unidimensional picture of Noor Jehan. Mucking out the stables, they made her tabloid fodder. She didn’t bother spiffing up the image. In the self-righteous superficiality of showbiz was a bold meditation, a dream we all wanted to be in. I remember driving with her to Evernew Studios for a song recording. I saw for myself the Grande Dame of ravishing beauty and glamour she was, in the eye-stabbing ugliness of the studios. In a lemon coloured chiffon sari, sitting amidst a cluster of chorus women, she dispensed her sugary smiles in abundance. The musicians, recordists, studio hands, hovering around her, awash in banality, were the perfect tacky backdrop to her snazzy, visual quest of electrifying presence. Upon the music-director's signal, the orchestra struck up the composed tune, for her approval. She nodded and smiled “Mashallah barri achi dhun banaee hai…” She was not called Malika in vain. She kept the entire industry under her thumb and no one dared raise a voice.

Yet on the other hand she could be totally unassuming, and never took herself too seriously. Once driving her to a jeweller's shop we stopped at a traffic light. The traffic cop froze at her sight, and in mid-duty, gave her a salute, Noor Jehan waved back vigorously, gave him her warmest smile and nodded with such familiarity, it made the poor man's face shine.

Today's plastic celebrities with a couple of albums or a few TV serials strut around, with such elephantine dimensional arrogance and pious self-congratulations that one cannot help but idolize the woman who held the top most slot in showbiz for six continuous decades, captivating and mesmerizing both India and Pakistan alike. Here was a legend that was ravishingly good-looking, marvelously gifted, packed with wit, laced with terrific humour, impeccable in her craft... and yet she never expected the world to part in the middle for her. The world did it on its own. James lvory and Ismail Merchant on a trip to Lahore requested an audience. She graciously granted them one. Wrapped in an ice cream pink silk sari, with dimpled smiles, she didn't mince words at Ismail Merchant's handsomeness. "Bahut haseen aadmi ho!" He was taken aback. She didn't wait for reactions. Proactive and fiercely independent, she always had a thing to say, and having said it, she moved on.

Noor Jehan was obsessed with her children. Doting, tolerant, and accommodating, she took their tantrums with chuckles and naughty winks. Once I was with her in London, in the Edgeware Road flat where she was staying with her daughters. One by one her daughters announced their shopping lists of Selfridges and St. Michael's. Laughing mischievously, she ladled out handfuls of pounds from her handbag, no questions asked. At another time, she was in Karachi, having taken advance payment; she'd agreed to give a concert in Lahore. At the last minute her children threw a tantrum, banged doors, and threatened her with dire consequences if she left. They wanted her to stay on. She cajoled and calmed them, laughed merrily at their tantrums, and amazed me at how tolerant a mother she was.

Noor Jehan was very loyal to her friends. She talked at length about a few people who'd been there for her, she wanted to repay their kindness, ounce for ounce. Meena Baji and her husband Sadruddin Ismaili, was one such couple. In one of her retrospective moments she very honestly admitted: "I respect them. They used to come pick me at the airport in the wee hours of the morning, after my trips abroad. This is much before I knew any of the Khawajas or rich folks of Karachi. Today everyone wants to pick me at the airport but those two were there for me when there was no one else. I won't forget that. That's why in public, I deliberately stand up to greet
Sadar and Meena, I embrace them, for people to see that Noor Jehan is standing up, so should we."

Once interviewing Mehdi Hassan, he confessed that only when he recorded a duet with Noor Jehan, did he understand the term "expression." "She put so much expression in each word that I felt ashamed of myself. I had never realized that kind of depth."

Niaz. Ahmed, a music director says, "When Noor Jehan didn't exist composers thought of tunes but when Noor Jehan arrived, composers thought Noor Jehan."

I had a wonderful rapport with Noor Jehan but the awe never left me. On the one hand I sat and chatted with her person to person, on the other I remained an awestruck fan. Noticing her portrait in my house a heroine of our industry remarked: "I cannot believe you have her picture framed in your room. That means fan following does exist."

She always gave me a lecture on marriage. "Now get married and fast. But don't you marry a fast, mod, partygoer. Find a decent girl who should do both, "Ghar bhi chalaye aur tumharay saath bahir hhi jaye.” Once we posed for a photograph together I stood respectfully at a distance. She yanked my hand and held it in her own. "What's this distance? Hold my hand.” She had that kind of down to earth simplicity.

When she got a mobile phone, delighted at the invention, she marveled at it. "With this thing you cannot miss the person you are tracing. No matter where the person is you can speak to him."

She had steely resolve. At the hospital preparing for her trip to USA not once did she speak in vague, uncertain terms. She spoke about the future with utter confidence. "After I return from America, I will do this and do that.” She was not in the least despondent or gloomy. Chucking at things she mimicked accents, narrated funny anecdotes, and displayed the canula stuck through her vein. Not at all depressed about it. A fighter, she was still making plans, and inquiring about the food menu, while they packed her luggage for the trip. At the airport I asked if she would like a wheelchair. She knitted her brows at me. "Not at all. I don't need one." Her reply was straight. She walked regally in the airport lounge and bumped into Benazir Bhutto. Benazir wanted a photograph with her. Unruffled, Noor Jehan gladly obliged and offered Benazir a hand to hold. She didn't just fascinate the masses; VIPs also wanted a piece of her.

So much has been written and said about her, yet her life is impossible to summarize. How can you? When at age six, she stood up on her two little feet to sing and didn't stop for seventy years, a lot must come between the beginning and the end. Suffice it to say, Allah chose to bless her in more than one way. And brought her life to an end when He deemed fit.

Buried during the 27th of Ramadhan, she abandoned the world of cinema and song, in the here and now. Away from Lahore and its studios, away from showbiz and music. In death she disassociated herself from those she kept company with all her life and left in the company of taraveeh prayers. When news of her death spread, people could not resist and turned on their TVs in the middle of the holy night prayers. For one last look. Of that smiling dimpled face. That magic, that charisma, that legend, they called Malika-e-Tarranum Noor Jehan. Goodbye Madam!

Dawn, 7th January 2001)

A first-person report makes it so much more personal and authentic, hence more interesting.

Thanks for that great piece.

yes thanks priya, it was a lovley read

what a lovely post priya..

i was amazed to read mehdi hassan's confession. he himself is a king in expressions.. and has the great lata ji among his fans..

this only goes to show that madam is who she is.. a true legend.

This is one of the best articals about Madam, When this artical was published in Dawan, I immediatly translated it into Urdu.. my translation was published in a local Urdu magazine.

Thanks for the post Priya!

I wish there were more such articles on Madam that gave us an insight into who Madam the person was rather than the endless repetitive chronicles of biographical info and song lists. Are they more such articles in urdu?
If so can U translate them for us? I remember u said U have some Urdu books on her. Would love to read the interesting excerpts.
P

Priya! As you know I am not good in English, I am only able to translate English material into Urdu. I have a lot of material about Madam in Urdu, specially her last interview which was published in Daily Jang. What If I post an artical or interview in Roman? Can you (or any other friend) translate them into English?

aur haan... Please wait till Sunday... I have upgraded my PC, and will post all the 'surprises'...plus the last recorded song of Madam.

Inaam my Urdu is not good enough. I will not understand half of it. But U can translate to Hindi na? I can then do it to English. Please think about it. It would be a huge favour done to Madam fans.
P

Ok Priya Ji, I will start it with Madam's interview... and try to change the difficult Urdu words into 'aasaan' hindi. kal tak intezaar karo.

Thanks Inaam. I have one interview with Madam, it appeared in a Hindi mag but Madam uses a bit of Urdu. But that is not tough Urdu like what professional writers use. It begins with the q--kuch logon ka khayal hai ki kalakar ko shaadi nahi karni chahiye--if it is the same interview do not do that. I hope it is not the same one--the more the merrier!

No Priya! ye dosra hai.. last interview of her life. BTW can you post the interview you have... ye Hindi mag wala.... I m also greedi na?

The last interview!!!! Gosh do post it fast please.
The Hindi one I have not typed fully yet. I thot of translating it but then the essence is lost but typing Hindi in English script also takes time.
Aap greedy nahi hain--aapka haq banta hai!