For no fault of their own the playback singers of yesteryear had a brief time under the sun
Music was in our family. My father, a Bridge Engineer in thePakistan Railways, possessed a good voice and as an amateur singer, would enthral the audience with his singing. He once sang live from the Lahore Radio Station in the late thirties. We, my siblings and I, inherited this art. He used to love inviting prominent singers to his house for recitalsand discussions on music. My first encounter with a playback singer took place in the mid fifties when my father was posted in Jhelum. We were living in a railway bungalow, which had a large orchard with a variety of fruit trees. My father invited Inayat Hussain Bhatti, who was on a visit of the town, to our residence. Inayat had shot to fame when his song “Bhagan Waleyo Nam Japo, Maula Nam”, recorded for the Punjabi film “Dulla Bhatti” became an hit. Inayat Bhatti came to our house late in the evening and sang this song on the gathering’s request. A resident of Gujrat, he revealed he was a frequent visitor to Jhelum and during his childhood had developed a liking for “Chakotras” grown in this bungalow, which he would get cheaply from the gardener. “Chakotra” is a large sized grape fruit red from inside.
In the later part of his life Inayat Bhatti became a philanthropist. In mid eighties when I was working as an Employee Relations Manager in a factory on Sheikhupura Road, Inayat came to meet me for the purpose of recruiting a driver. I reminded him of his visit to our house in Jhelum almost three decades ago, which he still remembered.
In 1963, I was invited to sing at a scout’s function at the Bagh-e-Jinnah, Lahore. After I had finished singing, I was called in by Syed Shaukat Hussain Rizvi, a legendary producer and director of Indian and Pakistani films, also attending the event. Shaukat Rizvi praised the quality of my voice and said that he would try it for films. Since I was studying, I did not express keenness to sing in films. A few years later I visited Shaukat Rizvi’s Shahnoor Studios in Lahore. He had engaged music director Nashad who had recently migrated from India to compose the music for his film ‘Ashiq’. While in India Nashad had composed music for the musical hit “Zindagi Ya Toofan” and for Talat Mahmood’s famous ghazal “Tasweer Banata Hoon, Tasweer Naheen Banti” in Bara Darri. In order to test my voice, he asked me to sing one of his compositions. Although I had never sung for films I felt elated after this encounter with the famous music director.
Saleem Raza, became a popular playback singer in Pakistani films after singing “Yaro Mujhey Muaaf Rakho Mein Nashay Mein Hoon” in the musical hit “Saat Lakh,” produced and directed by the poet Saif-ud-Din Saif, released in the mid-fiftees. When his popularity had declined in the late sixties, he switched over to the composing and singing of ghazals and geets for the Lahore television station. He would also play the harmonium very well. I would sit in his company for hours and watch him compose music. He became acquainted with me and once commented that I followed his compositions intelligently. Saleem Raza used to complain about the apathy of PTV officials towards music programmes. He thought religious programmes occupied most of the time. Dissatisfied with the situation, and economically distressed, he migrated to Canada and died there a few years later.
Mujeeb Alam, became a sought-after playback singer after his song’s “Woh Merey Samney Tasveer Baney Baiteh Haen” popularity, recorded for the late sixties super hit film “Chakori”. During his peak days, Mujeeb shifted to Lahore from Karachi, renting an annexe in the B-Block of Model Town. Since we lived in the H-Block, I developed an acquaintance with him in order to get singing tips. This association was short lived as Mujeeb’s popularity declined sooner than expected and he had to shift back to Karachi. Completely ignored by the various television channels currently in operation, Mujeeb considers himself lucky when given the opportunity to sing three or four songs in a music programme for a few thousand rupees.
Malika Pukhraj, also resided in the J-Block of Model Town, Lahore. In the early seventies, I went to her residence to invite her to our house and seek guidance for singing. She asked me if I had brought a car with me. I told her that I had come on a bicycle. Malika told me that I could go on my cycle and she would follow in her car. The three kilometre distance was covered in this funny manner. When my father saw Malika Pukhraj, he was absolutely flabbergasted about how I had managed to bring such a music luminary to our house. Malika listened to my singing patiently and advised me to learn music from an ustaad.
After the instant success of “Qarar Lootney Walay Tu Pyar Ko Tarsey” sung for “Saat Lakh”, Munir Hussain, sang for a number of Urdu and Punjabi films and contributed many hit songs. In the later part of his life, he came to our house once and wept over his plight, complaining that he did not have money even to pay for the taxi fare.
My encounters with our film industry’s playback singers in its formative years, were brief but they have left an everlasting impression. That those who had provided millions in the sub continent with solace and happiness had to , when their prime was over, struggle for just their survival.
For no fault of their own the playback singers of yesteryear had a brief time under the sun 
