KARACHI CHRONICLE: Homage hypocrisy

Last Saturday, a fund-raising programme titled a "Tribute to Mehdi Hassan" brought together many amateur and professional artistes and music lovers from across the country at the open-air theatre of the Arts Council. The tribute in song was fine but the beggarly manner of collecting money was appalling and, in my opinion, insulting to the great ghazal maestro.
The programme was jointly organised by the Mehdi Hassan Foundation and the Arts Council. The Foundation is run by Mehdi Hassan's children who have used their father's name as their Chief means of earning their daily bread. They are talented singers but did not inherit the acumen to capture the aesthetic nuance of verse and tune from their father. Their renditions are mechanical, so despite having voices remarkably like Mehdi Hassan's and can sing, of course, they have not succeeded much in making a living out of recitals. They are not in demand.
One feels sorry for them and sadder still for Mehdi Hassan that despite being an invalid it is still he who keeps the food on the family dastarkwan (floor cloth). I am reminded of an old PTV drama "Sone ki churiya" (golden bird in the sense of the English idiom the hen that lays the golden eggs) in which beggar-exploiters moan the death of an old paralysed man who used to be trundled around for begging and used to earn, for them, the largest amount of charity.
The fund-raising in the name of Mehdi Hassan was nothing but a charity collection, made visually painful by the cheap straw basket near Mehdi Hassan's wheelchair on stage. Flower petals may have come in the basket but it reminded me of the bagger's bowl. Why do organisers ignore the importance of visual impact? That basket did not create a good impression.
When it comes to helping artistes financially, it is always in the style of charity offering. There is no institution which supports artistes. So many great folk singers, like Mai Bhagi and Muhammad Jumman, whose talent was exploited by money-minded organisers of music programmes, died in squalor of poverty in their hutments in the villages. They did not benefit and had no nest egg saved up for their old age.
Tributes to great living artistes, such as Reshma, turn out to be a promotion for new talent who sing songs popularised by the great performers. The Mehdi Hassan Tribute also showcased many young talented artistes. This is also a form of exploitation which is disgusting. It makes the homage to the great artiste a hypocrisy.
A point to ponder is why children of great singers like Mehdi Hassan, Madame Noor Jehan and Malika Pukhraj fail to shine like their parents. All of them have great talent but all of them have more or less exploited their illustrious parent's name and hardly move away from singing the same ghazals, film songs, patriotic songs that were famous in the voice of their parent.
Often I have wished they would not continue endlessly to imitate their parents because nothing exposes their comparatively lesser talent. In the early days of their career listeners are fascinated but soon get bored by the repetition. Mehdi Hassan's children are not good looking, so there is not even that visual treat to compensate for their unoriginal singing. But even the beautiful daughter of Malika Pukhraj and the even more stunning daughters of Madame Noor Jehan have failed to sustain their market. They fade out and fade out of memory. The renditions of their great parents on the other hand, live on and will live on as long as there are lovers of great music.
Nevertheless, something must be done to preserve the vocal music heritage. The nation owes the great singers to help their sons and daughters, not by giving a hefty cheque or charity, but by creating institutions where their talent is nurtured. In all countries the art heritage is not allowed to die out, nor left to private, self-help, hit-or-miss methods of perpetuation. There must be institutions organised at state level for the development of all type of art including vocal music, classical, folk and light such as film and pop singing.
The gharanas (schools of classical music) are also fading away due to neglect. These gharanas are family-based and one can see that not a single great artiste has been produced in recent decades. The children of these gharanas have immense talent but it has been channelled into semi-classical and light music.
In the past the gharanas survived because of patronage. Today those old nawabs and rajas are no more, or are themselves struggling for financial survival so they cannot afford to support great artistes through their life. The solution is to set up state sponsorship, state-run training institutions and state organised promotion of budding talent. There is also a need for setting up trusts for artistes no longer able to deliver, and for insurance for their health and life. If India and Bangladesh can do it, why not Pakistan?
It is a great pity that the promotion, or rather so-called promotion, of music is left to organisers. Most of them are exploiters who profit from the performances while very little money passes into the hands of the singers and musicians who drew the crowd of gate-money-paying music lovers.
A little known way of destroying talent is the call-up of budding talent to perform for the powerful government, tribal and feudal men. Performers have had to break commitments to cater to the demands of the powerful. An incident in the career of Sanam Marvi. Some music lovers hearing her sing had organised a grand dinner for their wealthy friends who are also music lovers. She did not turn up, though she was paid in advance including her air fare and stay in Karachi.
(She is of Sindh but married to a Punjabi, they live in Lahore). Rest assured, none of the wealthy music lovers will ever trust her and call her. Poor Marvi, she has lost the patronage of Karachi. It is sad because she is one of the best voices we have heard in recent times, with a range and command like that of Abida Parveen and holds the promise of greatness. She could not help ditch the private function that night because from Karachi airport she and her troupe were taken away, it out to be called temporary kidnapping, to entertain a wadera; how could she refuse? Poor thing. What misfortune.