With the release of the
Gujarati ghazal album "Jeevan
Maran Chhe Ek", Jagjit Singh
has reasserted his position as
a living musical genius of the
entire Indian subcontinent.
Multitudes of his fans across
India, Pakistan and
Bangladesh, for whom Gujarati
is like Greek or Latin, are
seeking out lexical aids to
decipher the deep
philosophical lyrics of Mareez,
which Jagjit has rendered in
simultaneously sombre and
uplifting moods. The power of
Jagjit`s magical compositions
has introduced Urdu, Punjabi,
Hindi and Bengali to the
uninitiated. It is no
exaggeration to claim that
Padma Bhushan awardee Jagjit
Singh has single-handedly kept
literary forms of languages
alive where government
education policies and NGO
efforts have miscarried. His
place in history is
acknowledged for preserving
the ghazal as an art and
re-igniting the Urdu language
as a living symbol of our rich
heritage.
Jagjit overshadows everyone
else in the world of music by
his insistence on choosing
refined poetry as lyrics.
Although a shrewd experimenter
when it comes to usage of
instruments and style, he is a
purist about language. If he
is singing a Hare Krishna
bhajan, it will most likely be
one written by Surdas or
Meerabai. If it is a Sikh
shabad, there will be verses
by Guru Nanak. If it is an
Urdu ghazal even by a
contemporary, there will be a
hint of a mystic Ghulam Fareed,
a romantic Bahadur Shah Zafar
or a revolutionary Faiz Ahmad
Faiz. The subtle nuances of
classical poets, especially
those open to interpretation,
have held a special place in
Jagjit`s lifetime oeuvre that
runs to more than 150 albums.
How prolific does an artiste
have to be before being judged
a wizard? Jagjit, who is 66
years old today, has been
releasing albums practically
uninterruptedly for the last
41 years. Productivity knows
no bounds for him, with at
least two ghazal albums
hitting the market in a
calendar year. The most
amazing part of it is the
non-repetition and freshness
of every new release. The
music world routinely discards
burnouts and fizz-outs. Jagjit
towers over such temporary
pygmies like a giant who
reinvents himself with every
new offering. There has never
been a phase in his career
when people felt that his best
is past and that he is "living
off" his royalties.
His fan following ranges from
one end of the human life span
to the other and is well
balanced in gender and
religious terms. A key
attraction that draws massive
public adoration is the
healing touch in his voice
that tugs emotional chords. I
have observed diplomats
convalescing from heart
problems and jilted lovers
musing over bygones in
raptures with Jagjit`s
renditions. In an atomistic
age where caring and community
are declining, he is the
universal `saaqi` (tavern
companion) in whom every heart
unburdens itself and finds
solace.
Though Jagjit`s soothing
vocals are much praised, no
less healing is the
accompanying music that he
composes. A fantastic irony of
his work is that,
notwithstanding the linguistic
twists and turns of the
lyrics, his core melodies can
be heard in purely
instrumental format to equal
effect. A flute, sitar or
guitar version of his famous
hits usually plays in
weddings, public theatres and
restaurants around the world
where South Asians are
present. The sheer longevity
of appeal and repeat-value of
his compositions place him
miles ahead of any other
musician.
One very special trait of
Jagjit`s is mastery in live
performances. His uncanny
spells over large audiences in
concerts are almost hypnotic.
People sing along when he
gestures, applaud when he
releases the decisive lines,
laugh when the verse is
humorous, cry when he moots
the pathos of life, and dance
when he lightens up the
peroration with traditional
Punjabi folk tunes. If there
can ever be a complete
musician-cum-showman, here is
one.
Jagjit serves a bonus treat
for concert goers through the
extra improvisation that
studio recordings do not
permit. On stage, he could be
crooning a nazm on the
attributes of the beloved in
one instance, then veer off
into a tangential theme
sparked by a particular
phrase, and finally return
effortlessly to the point from
where the diversion occurred,
turning the melange into a
seamless whole. Command over
the ragas and a unique talent
for spontaneous detours make
him an entertainer par
excellence. At a juncture when
entertainment has come to be
associated with hip gyrations
and remixes, he is redefining
categories and demonstrating
that one can be wildly popular
without discarding the
fundamentals of classical
music.
Only a worshipper of art
senses the true value of
artistes. Jagjit has always
used his high profile to raise
the esteem of lesser-known
poets, singers, performers and
his own accompanying
instrumentalists. In the
cutthroat music industry,
where talent can easily be
robbed and destroyed by the
reputed, he has shown a
generosity that puts many
so-called big names to shame.
In 2004, he raised a fund
worth 10 million Pakistani
rupees for ailing musicians,
including the virtuoso Mehdi
Hassan. Celebrities often
indulge in charity, but very
few have directed it as well
as Jagjit for saving art and
artistes.
How did a Sikh from a modest
background lacking godfathers
reach such Olympian heights of
musical achievement? Whatever
Jagjit has achieved and will
achieve is a function of
earnestness and utter
commitment to music. The moral
of his glittering success is
that dedication to work with
passion is the greatest
quality.
(Sreeram Chaulia is a
researcher on international
affairs at the Maxwell School
of Citizenship in New York. He
can be reached at
[email protected])
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