KARACHI: Those of us who use Facebook to remain in touch with our friends and are music lovers may have seen a short video in which Malika-i-Tarannum Noor Jehan is seen at a concert praising the talent of the inimitable Mehdi Hasan. The Franco-Czech novelist Milan Kundera in his essay on painter Francis Bacon writes that when one artist talks about another, he is always talking (indirectly, in a roundabout way) about himself, and that is what’s valuable in his judgment.

Noor Jehan in the video articulates that those who are born with a melodious voice basically belong to a family whose ancestors had in the past distributed pearls in charity. This is no mean praise. Individuals such as Noor Jehan and Mehdi Hasan are, as the cliché goes, born once in a lifetime. Sadly, they are no more in this mortal world.

Mehdi Hasan’s burial place leaves much to be desired

Apart from the fact that both were Pakistan’s, nay, the world’s top-notch vocalists, there’s another connection between the two legends: they are buried in Karachi. Noor Jehan — who was born in Kasur — in the Gizri graveyard and Rajasthan-born Mehdi Hasan in the Mohammad Shah graveyard (North Karachi). A visit to their gravesites tells a contrasting tale, though.

Malika-i-Tarannum’s resting place is pretty well-kept. In spite of the fact that there are other graves flanking, and in front of it, the wooden shed over the area imparts a venerated look to the picture. The grave itself doesn’t show any signs of wear and tear. According to the man who looks after the graveyard, Noor Jehan’s daughter regularly visits her mother’s grave to offer fateha and to ensure it remains clean.

On the other hand, Mehdi Hasan’s burial place leaves much to be desired. First of all, it’s not very easy to reach. Mohammad Shah qabrastan is a huge cemetery with multiple entrance gates. Once you know which gate to pass through, you still need to ask about where Shehenshah-i-Ghazal is buried. After doing that, it’s still no easy going; the pathway is bumpy. But it is the gravesite which hurts or should hurt Mehdi Hasan’s admirers more. A fleeting look at it would reveal that not much care, at least these days, goes into its upkeep. It’s a small compound, a burial chamber if you will, which needs constant care. Even the writing on the headstone is getting blurrier by the day. Then the broken pieces of stones and bricks scattered all around the grave makes it an unseemly sight.

A shabbily-dressed young man, Shakil, has been assigned to take care of the special site. Assigned by whom? Well, he claims he works for the graveyard but a man named Qayyum has asked him to keep checking (cleaning and watering) Mehdi Hasan’s grave. Qayyum is the singer’s shagird (pupil) and it appears that he is the only person who comes to the burial place of his ustad on a regular basis. Still, Shakil’s efforts don’t seem to be working well.

Mehdi Hasan was no average artist. He was the best ghazal singer that ever walked on earth and it is unlikely that any singer of that genre of poetry in the future will be able to hold a candle to him. In terms of gaeki (the art of singing) too, he was one of the best the world has even seen. Ask any expert on the subject of music and s/he will tell you how in sur (pitch perfect) he would always be. He was one of a kind, in a league of his own.

You wonder what the culture department of the government of Sindh and the federal ministry of information, broadcasting, national history and literary heritage think about Mehdi Hasan … or for that matter Noor Jehan. Isn’t it their responsibility to keep their final resting places in a condition that deserves their stature? Come to think of it, this is the era of fifth-generation warfare and yet culture, arguably our most potent force to fight identity battles, doesn’t feature on our priority list.

Published in Dawn, January 31st, 2021