Songs of Paradise: Lilting tribute to a forgotten singer

Beyond politics and violence, the Kashmir valley has a soul and a voice. ‘Songs of Paradise’, as the title suggests, come wrapped in a melody, nay many melodies — the folk songs that once echoed from its radio station.

The film claims to be inspired by the songs of Raj Begum, the first woman to sing on Radio Kashmir. In the film, she becomes Noor Begum, though initially her name in the celluloid adaptation is Zeba Akhtar. The very first scene is dramatic and symbolic. We see Saba Azad as Zeba, singing with gusto, unmindful of the smoke around her.

In another time frame, Soni Razdan wakes up frantically and we soon see her preparing for a concert. A young student of music, Rumi (Taaruk Raina), approaches her; he is preparing for his thesis on Kashmir’s music. And thus begins a peep into her journey.

Saba and Soni play the younger and older versions of the lead. If this transformation appears smooth, so is the editing by Hemanti Sarkar. There are no jerks. The flashback begins in the Srinagar of 1954.

Soni is excellent as always and Saba, who is the niece of the late theatre activist Safdar Hashmi, finally gets the part she deserves. She is diffident and endearing, especially the way she utters “maatlab”.

On one end, her deep desire to sing bubbles full throttle. On the other surfaces a coy woman who has to circumvent societal diktats, especially those imposed by her mother, played by the consummate Sheeba Chaddha. Strangely, or perhaps only expected in a patriarchal society, Zeba navigates her way to success with support from men: her guru, Masterji (Shishir Sharma), her father (Bashir Lone) and, later, her beloved Azaad Maqbool Shah (Zain Khan Durrani). Zain, a Kashmiri himself and a poet too, enchants. He brings an old world charm to his character of a poet, as do so many other markers of design, costumes and more.

In unison with the story penned by director Danish Renzu, the mood is soft and sonorous. The frame of mind and the Valley are captured by cinematographer Vincenzo Condorelli with equal finesse. But for a few rabble-rousers who object to a woman singing in public, men here are supportive, progressive and gentle. One dialogue by Zain even goes: “Do men alone have the right to be artists?”

Without sermonising, the thread of communal harmony is woven in subtly. The head of the radio station is a Kashmiri Pandit (Armaan Khera), known by his surname, Kaul. Initially cold, almost disdainful towards Zeba’s prowess, how Kaul becomes one of her many cheerleaders, tells you that religion had and has no place in the sublime world of arts and music. Those uninitiated in the Kashmiri language might find it difficult to cross the 1-inch tall barrier of subtitles when it comes to lyrics. Yet rhythm and beats with soulful compositions by Abhay Rustum Sopori have a lilting feel to it; the background score is by Peter Gregson.

Call it by any name — a cinematic tribute, a cultural chronicle of Kashmir or a musical biopic — the film talks to you simply and beautifully in the artistic language of aesthetics. At no stage does it shout from the pulpit to reinforce what it sets out to convey, or drum in the achievements of the legendary but forgotten singer.

We do learn that Raj Begum got many awards, including the Padma Shri, but the emphasis is on her will to surmount obstacles. Even the fact that her story of trials and tribulations inspired other women is threaded with a delicate touch.

The narrative does not touch many ticklish areas; the idea is certainly not to ruffle any feathers either. The only somewhat controversial dialogue is when an aspiring singer asks Noor what she thinks of the burqa and she replies, “Those who want to wear should and those who don’t, should not.” The import is not lost when we see her wearing one in the scene that follows; burqa and feminine energy can exist in the same continuum.

While the film does justice to Raj Begum’s pioneering legacy, it would be interesting to see the challenges faced by present-day female singers. Would other makers pick up from here, or would Danish, who brings together such talent from the Kashmir region, including the wonderful singer Masrat un Nisa, continue with the onerous task of throwing more light on the Valley’s culture, only time will tell.

For now, light shines on a singer who forged paths for others to follow.