
Tum aao gulshan-e-Lahore se chamam bardosh
Hum aaien subah-e-Benaras ki roshni lekar
Himalaya ki hawaon ki taazgi lekar
Phir uske baad yeh dekhein ke kaun dushman hai
(You come with the spring from Lahore/I will bring the beautiful morning of Benaras/The fresh winds from the Himalayas/And then let’s see who is the enemy)
— Poet Ali Sardar Jafri
JAFRI only romantically reiterated what most Indians have always said and done. There are no borders between India and Pakistan when it comes to music and the arts. A Ghulam Ali or an Abida Parveen will always find a place in music stores across India. And Pakistani singers, more often than not, have hit the big time in the international market via India.
For instance, fusion band Junoon would have stultified in the restrictive atmosphere of Pakistan, pop group Strings would have been reduced to a club band but for support from the Indian music market, Adnan Sami’s career got a lift only after he chose to make India his home and Ghulam Ali’s Chupke Chupke Raat Din… would have never become so popular had it not been featured in an Indian film (Nikkah). Not to mention, Abida Parveen’s rendition of Baba Bulle Shah’s sufi kalaams (verses) that would have probably been lost in the lanes of Lahore had she not signed up with Indian music companies.
Rajiv Sharma, whose company Milestone released Junoon’s album Azaadi, says, ‘‘We sold around five lakh cassettes of Azaadi. Its song ‘Sayonee’ topped the international charts. When Junoon came to Mumbai to perform at the Zee Cine Awards in 1998, the entire city turned up.”
Size does matter. So does image creation and media hype. Mandar Thakur, managing director of Sound Buzz who, as former programmer at Channel V, was instrumental in bringing Junoon to India for the Channel V Awards and road shows, says: ‘‘Today Junoon calls itself the cultural ambassador of Pakistan. Back then, few people knew it even in Pakistan. Its lead guitarist Salman is a rebel. Pakistan would have never promoted such a rebellious band which talks of freedom, liberalism and anti-status quo.’’
In fact, after their 1998 visit to India the band faced death threats back home, when their statement about promoting peace between the two countries got misconstrued as them supporting the reunification of Pakistan with India.
The other Pakistani artist to make it big in India is Adnan Sami. Originally a Pakistani, Sami grew up in Canada but has now made Mumbai his home. Nobody knew him before Magnasound released his debut album Kabhi To Nazar Milao. He has not looked back since then. Sunil Meghani, Vice-President (marketing) at Magnasound, says the company has sold around 10 lakh copies of Sami’s first album. ‘‘He is a stupendous success. His song Lift Karado became so famous that we released a remix of it. That too is selling well. When people buy music of Adnan or any other Pakistani artiste, they don’t see their nationality. They go for pure melody,’’ Meghnani insists. Sami, for his part, is very happy with the affection he gets here. ‘‘I am addicted to this country, I couldn’t go anywhere,’’ he says.
Sufi singer Abida Parveen has a huge fan following in India. Though her album with Music Today, Raqs-e-Bismil, directed by Muzaffar Ali, was not strong musically, her presence in the Swar Utsav concerts ensured a sell-out. Ghulam Ali’s recent collaboration with poet Gulzar and Mehdi Hasan’s albums are big winners, too. In fact, generations of young Indian ghazal singers pattern themselves on Ghulam Ali’s soulful style. As the shy Abida told The Indian Express last winter, ‘‘This region is the Sufi belt. Its soul cannot be divided.’’ The elegant ghazal-geet singer Tahira Sayeed, daughter of legendary Pakistani vocalist Mallika Pukhraj, endorses the sentiment when she says, ‘‘In India too, I perform to a home audience. I do not need to explain anything, nor do they need to explain to me. The wavelength is one.’’
India adores Pakistani singers and poets. Is this reciprocated? Not really, if one were to hear poet-lyricist Nida Fazli’s experience in Pakistan. Fazli, who visited the country several times, recounts his humiliation: ‘‘Pakistani radio and television interviewed me for hours but never aired it because I had spoken about increasing cultural exchange between the two countries. Jagjit Singh was invited for a concert in Karachi but not allowed to perform because the organisers had not taken permission from the authorities.’’
‘‘And why only the singers? When they compiled Pakistani Adab, a history of Urdu literature, it began with Iqbal and ended with Faiz. It didn’t occur to them that Ghalib and Mir came before Iqbal and that many of Faiz’s contemporaries lived in India. They have communalised a secular genre like Urdu poetry.’’
If this is true, then these lines by an Urdu poet are justified: ‘‘Hamara saaf dil hai hum milte hain safai se/ Ab yeh unke uppar hai ke woh kis dil se milte hain (Our conscience is clean, We meet with open hearts/ It is up to them now).”

