A Pawn is Born Popular culture has often served as delicious fodder for rulers caught in a cleft stick in the Indian sub-continent. More so, when it helps strike a chord among millions on either side of the fence. Back in the Eighties, Pakistan's General Zia-ul-Haq used cricket diplomacy to confirm it was the willow game, and not hockey, that would stoke sub-continental passions in the future. And now, about two decades later, Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee hopes to strike the right note with his rather delayed, get-well-soon letter to Mehdi Hasan, Pakistan's ailing ghazal maestro. The Prime Minister wrote: 'I join millions of fans in India in praying for your speedy and complete recovery so that the world of music may continue to have one of its greatest living exponents for a long time.' Words that are music to millions of ghazal lovers in the sub-continent. One would sincerely hope that the Indian Prime Minister's missive is much more than merely a subtle tactical note amidst the changing winds of border diplomacy. After all, the same government still stubbornly refuses to play cricket with its 'hostile' neighbour. And cultural barters across the border remain at a low ebb. In fact, cultural exchanges between the two countries have vacillated between extremes. The roars of appreciation at a Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan show has often been counterbalanced by the disruptions at a Ghulam Ali concert. But there is no denying that Hasan, 70, who suffered a debilitating paralytic stroke sometime ago and is still bed-ridden, is genuinely revered by music-lovers on either sides of the uneasy border. Anyone who has ever heard Hasan sing, either live or a record of his private albums, will never ask, why. Certainly the most celebrated male ghazal singer ever, Hasan stands alongwith Begum Akhtar and Mallika Pukhraj among the best in the trade. His deep velvet voice and his matchless style of relaxed rendition make him the king of ghazals, a title he holds even today. Few artistes have drawn such unqualified acclaim from ustaads and contemporaries alike. Lata Mangeshkar once said, 'Mehdi Hasan ke gale mein bhagwan bolta hai.' Even music director Naushad proffered, 'Unki tareef to suraj ko chirag dikhana hai.' Next generation ghazal singers such as Jagjit Singh, Talat Aziz, Penaz Masani and Rajkumar Rizvi have all acknowledged him as a master, Hasan's influence starkly visible in their singing. Virtuoso Hindustani classical singer Pandit Bhimsen Joshi too is a great admirer of Hasan; their relationship filled with warmth and respect for each other. Once when Joshi walked in midway during a Hasan concert in Pune, the latter came off the stage to embrace him. He then proceeded to sing the memorable, Zindagi mein to sabhi pyar karte hai, main to mar kar bhi meri jaan tujhe chahoonga, said to be one of Joshi's favourites. Mehdi Hasan comes from village Lunwa located in Rajasthan's Jhunjhunu district. It is said that his ancestors were once singers in the court of Amer who later migrated to the Shekhawati region. Later they became the singers in the courts of the Mandwa nobles. The family migrated to Pakistan during Partition. Accounts differ as to who really groomed Hasan into a polished singer. Some attribute it to his father Azim Khan, who was an exponent of Indian classical music and played for the maharajah of Jaipur. Others credit it to his uncle, Ismail Khan, a student from Bhatkhande College, Lucknow. It is said that he took the six-year-old boy under his wings and started training him in the highly contrary arts of singing and wrestling. Hasan mastered a wide range of vocal styles: dhrupad, khayal, thumri and dadra at a relatively young age. After he was successfully auditioned for Radio Pakistan in Karachi, he received Rs 35 as payment, about three times more than what a singer received those days. But the story goes that music aficionados who heard him thought that Hasan deserved to be paid at least Rs 100! He started out as a classical singer on the radio but later switched over to ghazals. Soon he was singing regularly for films, starting with Mere khayal-o-khwab ki duniya in Shikar (1962). Many of these filmi ghazals such as Rafta rafta woh meri are as timeless and memorable as those sung by Mohammed Rafi in films like Barsaat Ki Raat and Mere Mehboob. The film ghazals of Hasan, though, hardly showcase the tremendous vocal range of the maestro. Any live recording of the same extended version are miles ahead in quality. A gem of an album came out following the recording of classical ghazals in rare ragas where Hasan was accompanied by the noted sarangi player, Sultan Khan of India, and tabla nawaz, Shaukat Husain Khan, of Pakistan. In Hasan's rendition, the rigours of classical training easily blend with the pain and passion of the poetry that he sings. There is a painstaking meticulous about his selection of ghazal and a thoroughness with the diction. And there is almost an obsession with perfectness. Hasan's popularity spread in India primarily in the Seventies and Eighties. When he got a chance to perform, it soared further as connoisseurs thronged to listen to the authentic sound of a genre that Hasan had assiduously shaped over the decades. The debate was: Who's better, Ghulam Ali or Mehdi Hasan? For connoisseurs, the answer was never in doubt. The paralytic stroke sometime back denied his admirers the pleasure of listening to his magic voice. Doctors felt that the punishing mental stress and fluctuating blood pressure had caused the stroke which came, ironically, during a concert tour in India. Hasan lost his voice and also part of his memory affecting the left side of the brain and the right side of his body. With regular physiotherapy as well as speech therapy, doctors say he will recover with time. In his reply to Vajpayee, Hasan has also expressed his desire to walk the bylanes of his ancestral village and his son, Arif, has said: 'If health permits, he would like to perform too.' There is no denying that Hasan's sentiments are real. In a climate of mutual suspicion, only a genuine artiste can utter words like: 'Jo haq Pakistanion ko meri ghazlon pe hai, wohi Hindustanion ko bhi hai. Unhone mujhe kam pyar nahi diya.' Sometimes, out of compulsion, politicians too speak the truth. The Prime Minister's letter correctly points out that Mehdi's ghazals 'like the music of the great artistes of India and Pakistan, reminds us of the common bonds of culture and spirituality that unite our two countries.' But then, such truths often becomes a casualty in the hands of realpolitik.