Urdu Saiyaara: Jashn-e-Rekhta in London

Ruhi Khan 

The hallowed halls of a 183-year-old Westminster chapel in the heart of London, stone’s throw away from Buckingham Palace, transformed into a lush garden. Men and women, girls and boys, young and old, metamorphosed into flowers and trees, birds and bees, squirrels and butterflies, with perhaps an odd chameleon thrown in. The flora and the fauna then witnessed the unfolding of a masterpiece.  

With Love, Aap Ki Saiyaara brings to life a story so new and yet as old as time; a voice so silent yet screaming loud; a life never experienced yet lived again and again. 

 

Meet Saiyaara: 

• A star born; much-loved daughter considered a blessing from the heavens.
• A naive teenager led astray by her old professor, married and divorced in the blink of an eye. An innocence lost; a dream shattered. 
• A young budding entrepreneur courted by an eminent doctor, followed by a whirlwind romance and a dream wedding. Then chastised and cheated, bruised and battered. A trust broken; a mind traumatised.
• A mature woman in control of her destiny, navigating life’s unpredictable terrains, both personal and professional, with humour and honour. 

 

Juhi Babbar Soni, not just plays the protagonist Saiyaara, but puts the soul in her character, that was conceived by her mother Nadira Zaheer Babbar. The Urdu play was written and directed by Juhi for Ekjute Theatre Group. And it is such a beautifully written play! Every word has its weight in gold, every emotion on Juhi’s face speaks volumes. The play is almost a monograph, with Saiyaara delving into her painful past, heart-breaking and infuriating. Yet it’s not defeatist, but empowering and hopeful. Oh! And watch out for a surprising cameo by a veteran Bollywood star whose love for Urdu is legendry. 

 

With Love, Aap Ki Saiyaara highlights societal problems, challenges gender stereotypes and is a flag-bearer of feminism. A feminism that does not pitch women against men, but the progressives against patriarchy. I watched the play at Jashn-e-Rekhta in London, had a lovely chat with Juhi about Mumbai and Uttar Pradesh, Bollywood and feminism. Juhi's passion for her art shines in her demeanour and she humbly credits her success to hard-work and talent which she admits is a virasat from her incredibly talented and popular parents – Nadira Zaheer and Raj Babbar. 

 

You can catch another performance of Aap ki Saiyaara on November 5 at Waterman’s Arts Centre in London. 

 

Rekhta in London

 

Yes, Rekhta has gone international and had a very successful launch in London on 28 October with the Westminster Chapel packed to the brim. What an accomplishment by Rekhta’s Huma Khalil and Sanjiv Saraf who brought together Urdu connoisseurs and amateurs from across countries in South Asia united in their love for a language that for centuries linked hearts and minds. And of course, to their many supporters in London including BBC journalist Pervaiz Alam who took to the podium to run the event and Irfan Mustafa who managed the logistics in the background and the many others who happily took up the mantle to make this event a success.

 

Jashn-e-Rekhta London had a plethora of shows from panel discussions on Urdu language and Aadaab to traditional storytelling forms like Dastangoi, followed by Mushaira and Ghazals. Each event saw doyens of Urdu take to the stage with some enchanting poetry and enthralling performances. 

 

Having heard Dastangoi for the very first time, I must say, I was very impressed by the almost breathless form of storytelling by the duo Mahmood Farooqui and Darain Shahidi. My favourite was obviously the Rajasthani folklore about man’s hubris, and how a young Thakurain outdoes all the ‘great’ men in an ‘impossible’ challenge. It reinforces how women with beauty and wit could just rule the roost.  

 

A light-hearted but thought-provoking banter between Saif Mahmood and the legendary Arfa Sayeeda Zahra on Urdu’s linguistic brilliance and its place in the world was such a treat in not just lessons on Urdu but on life.  

 

The Mushaira was absolutely entertaining as ten poets took to the stage with their original poetry. I was very impressed by Uruj Asif’s heartfelt poem on the insensitivity towards asylum seekers undertaking dangerous channel crossings often meeting a watery grave and another on her trip back in time through a book into 12^thcentury Baghdad reflecting on how some things have not changed in almost 1000 years. Hilal Fareed’s passionate nazm on the state of affairs in the world spoke truth to power and Pallav Mishra’s poetry was simply a beauty in antithesis. Irfan Kamil read his poem Nimmo on popular demand from a diaspora missing home, whereas Basir Kazmi’s aat se panch (8-5) left the audience in splits. 

 

The night ended with an Orchestral Qawwali by London-based Abi Sampa, Rushil Ranjan and troupe, who blended beautifully Sufi poetry with an orchestral octet. The tabla solo won the audience. 

 

As the curtains are drawn, I am reminded of the words of the very wise Arfa Sayeeda Zahra: “For Urdu to survive it needs to breathe”. Literary salons like this provide the much-needed oxygen. 

Ruhi Khan is a journalist, author and fellow of the Royal Society of Arts