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Photo: V.V.Krishnan

CRISPY AFFAIR Tahira Syed

The journey was tough. She took lessons at the age of 12 and graduated to qualify as a pupil of her mother.

Thus, began her love with music, ghazals to be precise, as she pursued classical singing with utmost devotion. Blessed with a sonorous voice, honed over the years with a disciplined training schedule, Tahira is game for a mocktail.

She raves about ghazals. “Ghazals are classical and meaningful. They convey the facts of life in a most telling manner. No wonder mostly people over 30 are fond of ghazals.” “I have grown on ghazals because it happened to me. My mother was such a strong influence. I was made aware of poetry at a very young age and I am so happy that enjoying ghazals is once again back in vogue. There are dedicated listeners for ghazals and I feel proud when I find an audience for my craft.” Tahira, a stunning combination of grace and beauty, summons the waiter and reels off her preferences. A non-vegetarian platter arrives with some delicious kababs. “Excuse me, I can’t wait,” she digs into her plate. “I missed my breakfast, you see.” She hardly takes a minute before returning to her world of ghazals.

Keen to revive the love for ghazals among the masses, Tahira observes, “I would like to see this generation listen to the kind of ghazals my mother used to sing. It is our duty to reintroduce the youth to ghazals and classical music.” How is the scene in Pakistan? “To tell you the truth it is not very different from India. Ghazals are considered old fashioned.I feel sad because we have some great poets but few listeners.”

“Lunch ma’am,” Tahira is interrupted. She glances at the menu, smiles at the waiter and places a simple order. “Some dal and naan please. Make the naans crisp.”

She is fond of dal, not the spicy kind, but plain fried dal. “There is nothing like dal-roti. I have found my dal and roti in the most exotic places abroad.”

“Abhi to mai jawan hoon” was immortalised by her mother. Tahira has sung it too, but obviously can’t match the legend’s range. Tahira came into prominence with Chanjar phabdi naa and she even made it to the cover of the National Geographic magazine in 1985.

Tahira again excuses herself for a short while to do justice to her lunch. “I eat a lot,” she blushes. She makes a passionate plea to the media. “Media can play a huge role in making ghazals popular. Pop is fashionable today and ghazal can be tomorrow. We have some hugely talented singers in Pakistan and they are featured regularly on PTV.” Among her favourites back home are Mohammad Ali and Shafqat Ali.

A mouth-watering list of dessert is reeled off by the waiter but Tahira opts for kulfi. “I think ghazals can be revived only if the listeners show some responsibility. If ghazal singing is a dying art, please don’t blame the artiste for it.”

Ghazals have faced stiff competition for 30 years now. Ghazals versus pop, ghazals versus films, but the art has survived. “It won’t die even if there are just a few admirers. Remember, all great singers have come from a classical background.” Tahira wipes her lips even as the taste of kulfi lingers.

“I look forward to the day when we would have a talent hunt only for ghazal singers. Today film music takes precedence but then it is an unreal world. Mediocrity in music has become epidemic,”

Tahira is ready for shopping. “I know all your bazaars.”

She should. Tahira has been visiting India for 30 years now.

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