I remember the day Jagjit Singh walked into my life. It was a dark night more than 14 years ago.
I was at my dads friend's place, talking about cricket, when it happened. It was a swift, single act of brilliance; one line of the absurdly melodious "Honthon Se Choo Lo Tum", and i was his fan.
I had heard the song before, and I knew the singer but i had never heard him with this great depth. I had his music cassette with me as I walked back home.
Jagjit Live at Sports Club, as I later discovered, was so much more than just the song I had fallen in love with. "Hosh waalu ko khabar kya", "Woh kagaz ki kashti", "Ahista Ahista" and "Chand bhi dekha".Thanks to my special friend i got to sit in the first row with my dad.I could not believe my luck.
Soon, I was hunting ghazal albums down. The Unforgettables, A Milestone, Echoes, Ecstasies, Beyond Time; I was officially on my way to obsession. Film music didn't mean much to me anymore. Soon i bought a cd player and created my own collection of Jagjit Singh gazals.
I remember the heavenly deep voice doing perfect justice to the philosophical "Tera Chehra hai Ayine Jesa", the lively "Jhoom Ke Jab Rindon Ne Piladi", the tragic "Thumri - Babul Mora", and the eternal favorites - "Yeh Daulat Bhi Le Lo", "Tum Itna Jo Muskura Rahe Ho", "Hothon Se Choo Lo Tum", and "Tum ko Dekha to Yeh Khayal Aaya".
Soon with my pocket money i bought 3 live in concert DVDs of the maestro in London.
He was never one for vocal acrobatics, but here was my favorite singer showing off - improvising effortlessly and showing off classical flourishes that would have done a Ghulam Ali proud. Jagjit was simply having fun and enjoying the night, but to his fans, every musical detour he took was the perfect riposte to critics who accused him of being musically limited.
Another memory, more recent, takes me to Karnavati Club,Ahmedabad where Jagjit sang at an event organized by the Club. I could see that Jagjit was in pain. He had cough and cold and was constantly drinking hot water. He went on for 2 hours non stop and then sang the last farmaish " Sham se ankh mai naami"
After a few days we came to know that Jagjit Singh had lost his step daughter the same day. He believed in " The show must go on" and surely it did.
The years rolled on. The tone and texture of Jagjit's voice, if anything, became even better, but Chitra's absence started reflecting on his composing skills. The trademark Jagjit style was by then firmly in place and album sales continued to soar, but too many of his tunes started to sound similar.
We have listened to Talat Mahmood, Mehdi Hassan and Ghulam Ali rendering Ghalib, but no one has sung the master philosopher with more feeling, or made him more accessible, than Jagjit. I remember spending countless nights on the wings of the haunting "Woh Firaaq Aur Who Visaal Kahaan" and letting my mind roam free with his soulful rendition of "Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi". All through the album, the thought and the voice are soul mates.
He did not have the greatest vocal range, but sophisticated subtleties of his vocal art and the ability to "perform" a song and paint a visual tapestry of emotions more than made up for it. Too many ghazal singers, even some hugely popular ones, trample upon the words as they try to dazzle you with their vocal skills. When Jagjit sang, it was all about the song, his voice a magic carpet for the poet's thoughts to reach the soul.
He is gone, and in time, I will learn not to go online and look for new albums of his. I've stashed away all those albums as it will hurt a bit too much to hear him now, but I know I will return to the purity of his voice, to the peace that it provides even as it sings of life and sorrow.
Memories often have songs as signposts. Jagjit won't sing anymore, but his memories and I intend to grow old with his music. How do you say goodbye to something that is inside you?
I was at my dads friend's place, talking about cricket, when it happened. It was a swift, single act of brilliance; one line of the absurdly melodious "Honthon Se Choo Lo Tum", and i was his fan.
I had heard the song before, and I knew the singer but i had never heard him with this great depth. I had his music cassette with me as I walked back home.
Jagjit Live at Sports Club, as I later discovered, was so much more than just the song I had fallen in love with. "Hosh waalu ko khabar kya", "Woh kagaz ki kashti", "Ahista Ahista" and "Chand bhi dekha".Thanks to my special friend i got to sit in the first row with my dad.I could not believe my luck.
Soon, I was hunting ghazal albums down. The Unforgettables, A Milestone, Echoes, Ecstasies, Beyond Time; I was officially on my way to obsession. Film music didn't mean much to me anymore. Soon i bought a cd player and created my own collection of Jagjit Singh gazals.
I remember the heavenly deep voice doing perfect justice to the philosophical "Tera Chehra hai Ayine Jesa", the lively "Jhoom Ke Jab Rindon Ne Piladi", the tragic "Thumri - Babul Mora", and the eternal favorites - "Yeh Daulat Bhi Le Lo", "Tum Itna Jo Muskura Rahe Ho", "Hothon Se Choo Lo Tum", and "Tum ko Dekha to Yeh Khayal Aaya".
Soon with my pocket money i bought 3 live in concert DVDs of the maestro in London.
He was never one for vocal acrobatics, but here was my favorite singer showing off - improvising effortlessly and showing off classical flourishes that would have done a Ghulam Ali proud. Jagjit was simply having fun and enjoying the night, but to his fans, every musical detour he took was the perfect riposte to critics who accused him of being musically limited.
Another memory, more recent, takes me to Karnavati Club,Ahmedabad where Jagjit sang at an event organized by the Club. I could see that Jagjit was in pain. He had cough and cold and was constantly drinking hot water. He went on for 2 hours non stop and then sang the last farmaish " Sham se ankh mai naami"
After a few days we came to know that Jagjit Singh had lost his step daughter the same day. He believed in " The show must go on" and surely it did.
The years rolled on. The tone and texture of Jagjit's voice, if anything, became even better, but Chitra's absence started reflecting on his composing skills. The trademark Jagjit style was by then firmly in place and album sales continued to soar, but too many of his tunes started to sound similar.
We have listened to Talat Mahmood, Mehdi Hassan and Ghulam Ali rendering Ghalib, but no one has sung the master philosopher with more feeling, or made him more accessible, than Jagjit. I remember spending countless nights on the wings of the haunting "Woh Firaaq Aur Who Visaal Kahaan" and letting my mind roam free with his soulful rendition of "Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi". All through the album, the thought and the voice are soul mates.
He did not have the greatest vocal range, but sophisticated subtleties of his vocal art and the ability to "perform" a song and paint a visual tapestry of emotions more than made up for it. Too many ghazal singers, even some hugely popular ones, trample upon the words as they try to dazzle you with their vocal skills. When Jagjit sang, it was all about the song, his voice a magic carpet for the poet's thoughts to reach the soul.
He is gone, and in time, I will learn not to go online and look for new albums of his. I've stashed away all those albums as it will hurt a bit too much to hear him now, but I know I will return to the purity of his voice, to the peace that it provides even as it sings of life and sorrow.
Memories often have songs as signposts. Jagjit won't sing anymore, but his memories and I intend to grow old with his music. How do you say goodbye to something that is inside you?
