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The star in Sonya
The debut role fell in her lap and she lapped it up for reasons her own. But strangely Lady Luck’s chosen damsel does not map out her life with rationality. She simply follows her destiny and prioritises family and emotions. Her code of conduct is carved with caution yet she throws caution to the wind for matters of the heart. Grand daughter of Madam Noor Jahan and the inadvertent star of Taj Mahal, Sonya Jahan is to her grandmother’s genes born.
As one walks into an almost bare room dotted sparsely with casual furniture, the carelessly thrown rugs and nude walls say precious little about the residents. On a shelf is a photograph of a radiant couple, young and attractive. Obviously it’s a wedding picture. I peer at the bride and barely does the face register when Sonya walks in. She is dressed in traditional attire — shalwar kameez and a voluminous dupatta — but it’s the face that holds my gaze. Classic chiselled bones with liquid brown eyes set in a porcelain complexion and framed by stubborn curls that are pushed back randomly only to find their way out wilfully. It’s an honest face albeit a stunning one. Strangely, it belongs more to Hollywood than Bollywood (the puzzle fits when I learn that her mother, Florence Rizvi who runs Cafe Flo in Karachi, is French).
Sonya Jahan, grand daughter of the legendary Madam Noor Jahan is Akbar Khan’s chosen Mumtaz for his magnum opus Taj Mahal, already shown at the Cannes Film Festival and due for release soon in the subcontinent. No airs and a no-fuss attitude, Sonya’s casual demeanour throws me off guard momentarily. But then fame and adulation she has savoured in plenty with her grandmother who she fondly calls ‘dado.’ “I’ve seen it all at such close quarters that it really doesn’t overwhelm me. In fact, I get uncomfortable if someone asks me to sign an autograph.” And that ‘someone’ is rare at the moment because Akbar Khan has managed to shield his Mumtaz from public glare in an attempt to infuse freshness in the character. Which is why Aishwarya Rai was vetoed out of consideration.
Sonya strikes a feline curl on the sofa as the dictaphone whirs into action. It’s time to rewind her life. “My dad, Akbar Rizvi, was the eldest child and was born when ‘dado’ was only 15 years old. He managed her career and they were more like siblings. ‘Dado’ was like an aunt to me.” Being the first born of Noor Jahan’s favourite child and one who inherited her looks and voice — well to some extent — Sonya was immensely special to her. “Everyone says I look like her.” A mischievous glint lights up her eyes, “But I’m better looking.” She began singing when she was six years old, was quick to learn, did her riyaaz with ‘dado’ and recorded her first song, too.
Performing in front of ‘dado’ terrified her as every time she faltered a deadly glare came her way. But unfortunately classical singing remained just a hobby and she continues to sing only for herself. “‘Dado’ always sang on an empty stomach and only took desi ghee before singing.” For Sonya, ‘dado’, who loved food and ate mangoes along with her meals, was always an enigma — very colourful, funny, short tempered and hyperbolic. “There was perennial drama with her around, so much so that she would break out into shairi even if a glass broke!” But ask her about the most prominent personality trait she shares with her grandmother and pat the reply, “Her temper.” ‘Dado’ incidentally was known for her mercurial moods. “When angry she was wild and even abusive, but the very next moment she would forget it all and be laughing and apologizing as though nothing had transpired.”
Born in Rheims in France, earlier her mother hitch-hiked all the way to Karachi to meet her father (then a budding photographer), model for him and later marry him. Sonya is almost blase about the mix of cultures that make up her background and candidly admits: “I’m more Pakistani than French but of course I use my French connection when I need to.” She was four when her brother was born and eight when the parents separated. “Ma decided to stay on in Karachi and started a boutique called Cleo. For us Pakistan has always been home.” But a European upbringing once again left an indelible mark further, intensifying the medley of persona, often paradoxical and incredulous. On completion of schooling it was destination London to pursue textile and ceramic printing.
During her college tenure, film maker Akbar Khan, who had heard of her through a common friend, flew to meet her and put her through an audition for the role of Mumtaz. With performing arts embedded deeply in her genes, Sonya cleared it despite her trepidation. But only to turn it down. “He wanted me to leave immediately and I wanted to complete my graduation.” She let go of the chance as easily as it had popped up, saying it was “kismet.” And fate it was that rekindled the chance once again as Akbar called the day the group was bidding farewell to leave the shores. His words “I’m still looking for my Mumtaz” worked like an elixir for Sonya. “By this time I’d met my future husband Vivek Narain and was heart broken at the thought of him going away to India and me to Pakistan. I grabbed the opportunity and committed instantly.”
There was no looking back hence. Sonya oscillated between Delhi and Jodhpur in Rajasthan, where Taj Mahal was being shot. In the ensuing months she was completely mired in costumes, make-up, emoting, gruelling schedules and collapsing hours. “I was never nervous of facing the camera, I guess it comes naturally to me but I don’t think I want a full-fledged career in films. Probably I’ll do a couple more and then start a business — maybe a French restaurant in Delhi taking Ma’s help.” But wouldn’t ‘dado’ have been proud of her ‘kismet’s’ star? “No she never wanted any of us in films because she knew exactly what it entails.”
In a world of showbiz, cautious speculation and ostentation Sonya Jahan, continues to live on her own terms. Married to Vivek Narain, the one and only love of her life, and who she would not let go of “for anything in the world”, she lives in a love cocoon, wrapped up in her own dynamics, taking each day as it comes and savouring it to the maximum. “One of my reasons for doing the film was Vivek. I just wanted to be with him,” says she. “Everyone in Pakistan was shocked and many close friends have kept a distance because not only did I end up marrying an Indian but a Hindu.” Unfazed, Sonya went right ahead with the dictates of her heart with Vivek’s and her own family’s support. “My father was very keen to come to India and always remarked in jest that he wanted a Hindu bride who would worship him regularly.” Unfortunately, he died just 10 days before the wedding.
While life’s larger expanse is measured in Bohemian strides, Sonya essentially remains conventional in her disposition. “It’s strange but I can’t wear a sleeveless shirt without wrapping myself up.” And even as she strikes a balancing act on the seesaw of the traditional and the modern, Vivek is wont to remark that he married her French side of the personality.
She’s young, she’s beautiful, but seems to lack ambition. Destiny’s child Sonya drifts lackadaisically with the tide, is happy holidaying in the solace of the hills where she meditates, hates shallow and farcical social evenings and wants to blend in a crowd rather then be spotted and counted amongst celebrities. But for how long, one wonders? Because even as the satellite channels beam this face, resplendent in its own magnificence, across millions of homes, a star will soon be born. A reluctant one, nevertheless. And ‘dado’s’ historic histrionics revisited. A befitting tribute.
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