Saleem Gilani

By Ustad Ghulam Haider Khan

Saleem Gilani was a titan among radio broadcasters. He was born to a Syed family of Kapurthala (now India) in 1928. After passing the matric exam he came to Lahore and got admission at the Government College, where his talents were chiseled and polished by Dr Saleem Farani, Patras Bokhari and other eminent teachers of the time. After obtaining a Masters degree he joined Radio Pakistan and settled permanently into Lahore’s cultural life.

Gilani’s role in the revival of the late classical poets is remarkable. Very steadily he tried to eclipse out the old ‘mujrai’ style of ghazal singing, in which melody and vocal expression reigned supreme. Often the words of the ghazal itself were lost in the singing. Gilani wanted to reorient ghazal gayaki so as to restore to primacy the enunciation of the words. For this task he selected the talents of Mehdi Hassan, who in those days was a fledgling, struggling artiste. It was Saleem Gilani who gave Mehdi the composed, rhythm-set and instrumentally saturated ghazal, and very quickly it came to dominate the world of singing. Incidentally, Gilani’s move also ousted the ‘feminine’ style of the great Ustad Barkat Ali Khan, brother of Bade Ghulam Ali, and in doing so pleased the spirit of his mentor Z A Bokhari.

Every old fan of classical music in Pakistan knows that Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, perhaps the greatest classical vocalist of the 20th century, left Pakistan for India in the early 50s because of his fight with radio director Z A Bokhari. The reason for the feud was this: Bade Ghulam Ali was a composer as well as singer (his nom de plume was ‘Sabrang’) and was fond of penning the verses of his classical and semiclassical renditions. But Bokhari too fancied himself a bit of a renaissance man, and imposed his own compositions on singers. Outrageously, he chose as his pen name the obviously confrontational title of ‘Khush rang’. And to confirm that he was indeed not dreaming, he summoned the famous singers of the time to the radio stations and had them record his poetry in their voices. Now in those days radio was the only medium for musicians (TV was still some years away), and it was in Bokhari’s hands. Consequently, the big singers, artistes such as Umeed Ali Khan, Nazakat-Salamat and Chhotey Ghulam Ali, all performed the new songs in concerts that were aired on radio. The differences, however, were immediately apparent: while Bade Ghulam Ali’s verses were written in a language that carried hints of Braj Bhasha and Purabi – the romantic dialects of North India – Bokhari’s were written in a spare and austere Urdu with heavily Persian accents. (Consider this piece for Raag Darbari: “Nazrey karam farmao, goharey tarab barsao”.) It was inevitable that sooner or later Bade Ghulam Ali would register the insult; but no one could have imagined that it would tarnish in his mind the image of the new country of Pakistan and so alter the course of this country’s musical career.

After Ghulam Ali’s permanent departure for India, it was left to young Saleem Gilani to fill the void. He tried his best and even succeeded to a degree. (He accomplished this mainly by sharpening and preparing the brothers Nazakat Ali and Salamat Ali for the classical stage.) In the Central Production Unit offices Gilani did a tremendous job: he interviewed all the leading musicians of the time and gave them jobs with high salaries. (They became ‘staff artistes’.) These jobs became permanent in the Bhutto years. He booked renowned music composers and directors to make new items for radio programs. He even produced a program himself: it was called ‘Taal 4+4’ and won second position at the Worldwide Radio Competition held in Malaysia.

In September 1976 he gathered the renowned musicians of Pakistan and had them each plant a tree in a plot behind the radio station. This plot of land was to be called ‘Yaad baagh’ or ‘Memorial Garden’. It was his way of showing everyone that he meant business and intended to be remembered. (It is another matter that many of the names in that garden are today unknown to the youth of this country.)

As a man Saleem Gilani was obsessed with protocol. His demeanour was starched and often unapproachable. Anyone who thought him a friend cried afterwards.

Once he taught me a thumri in Raag Des while counting its beats on his fingertips. I remember thinking he was remarkably rhythmical. Was he meant to be a musician instead of a radio programmer? Or perhaps it was his destiny to hunt and hone, in those early days of possibility after the creation of Pakistan, some of the best and lasting talents of our country, including Mehdi Hassan, Farida Khanum, Tarannum Naz and Reshma.

Ustad Ghulam Haider Khan lives in Lahore

May 20-26, 2011 - Vol. XXIII, No. 14