Death of a nightingale
Reshma’s voice was, and will remain, one of the best loved voices of our era.
Reshma's voice carried a rare, raw quality which turned so many of the songs she sung for audiences around the world into something magical. PHOTO: MUHAMMAD JAVAID
Reshma’s voice is not likely, in our lifetimes, to be replicated. It carried a rare, raw quality which turned so many of the songs she sung for audiences around the world into something magical, which touched chords deep within hearts and aroused a deep sense of emotion. Perhaps, it was the winds from her native desert land which came with her voice that carried in them so much feeling; perhaps, it was the singer’s own rendition and sincerity, but certainly Reshma’s was, and will remain, one of the best loved voices of our era.
Indeed, much about Reshma broke with tradition. She had never received formal training and began singing folk songs with her family and clan from a very young age. This clan had migrated from Rajasthan at the time of Partition, and Reshma herself is thought to have been born in 1947. She came to the public eye after a producer for the then immensely popular Pakistan Radio heard her singing as a 12-year-old at the shrine of Shahbaz Qalandar, brought her into a studio and placed her before a mike. Her singing mesmerised people everywhere and over the decades that followed, Reshma emerged as a leading singer, with tributes paid to her by many artists, including the younger popular musicians of today. Her talent, though, never brought in the kind of revenues it deserved. This, too, is a familiar story in our country, where singers have too often struggled due to a lack of support from any quarter.
Reshma, survived by a son and a daughter, had for years battled throat cancer. She is reported to have been in a coma for many months. Her death leaves behind a vacuum that may never be filled. It reminds us, however, of just how much talent lies within our country, in its villages and hamlets, and raises the question of whether we are doing enough to find it and nurture it, or if other nightingales sing unheard in places across a country where our diverse tradition of music has been badly neglected through the years.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 5th, 2013.
Indeed, much about Reshma broke with tradition. She had never received formal training and began singing folk songs with her family and clan from a very young age. This clan had migrated from Rajasthan at the time of Partition, and Reshma herself is thought to have been born in 1947. She came to the public eye after a producer for the then immensely popular Pakistan Radio heard her singing as a 12-year-old at the shrine of Shahbaz Qalandar, brought her into a studio and placed her before a mike. Her singing mesmerised people everywhere and over the decades that followed, Reshma emerged as a leading singer, with tributes paid to her by many artists, including the younger popular musicians of today. Her talent, though, never brought in the kind of revenues it deserved. This, too, is a familiar story in our country, where singers have too often struggled due to a lack of support from any quarter.
Reshma, survived by a son and a daughter, had for years battled throat cancer. She is reported to have been in a coma for many months. Her death leaves behind a vacuum that may never be filled. It reminds us, however, of just how much talent lies within our country, in its villages and hamlets, and raises the question of whether we are doing enough to find it and nurture it, or if other nightingales sing unheard in places across a country where our diverse tradition of music has been badly neglected through the years.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 5th, 2013.