Some people are just so classy. I’m amazed. Has anyone heard of her. She really sounds like a wonderful and balanced person.
Has anyone heard her? I would be really interested in hearing her. if you got something from her, please share. thanks
**A nightingale in the making **
By Maryam Juzer Kherulla
Walking into a popular sandwich joint wincing at the sound of music blaring from the TV set playing loud Pakistani pop, I catch sight of a serene, slight figure swathed in the coolest shade of mint green. The dupatta on her head pronounces her dimpled features and aquiline nose. “Kiran?,” I smile coming up to her. Her responsive smile is calm; her features unruffled. Seating ourselves in the hard plastic and wrought-iron chairs and sipping on chilled sodas, we come right to the point.
“It is said you sing beautifully?,” I comment to the young girl in her mid-twenties who is said to have started crooning ditties since she was an infant of two and a half years.
“Well,” she pauses, “People tell me so.” So how did the story of Kiran Sultan and her extraordinary gift for singing start.
“My father’s passion for music was the reason.”
Sultan Arshad, an ex-PIA employee by profession, used to sing beautifully at gatherings for family and friends, though it was never his cup of tea to sing professionally.
“That’s how I became inclined towards singing. I’ve been listening to old film songs ever since I was born.”
Egged on in her childhood to participate in singing competitions and milaads in school, her father was suddenly posted to Mumbai in 1989 where he remained for nine long years. The rest of the family stayed there for two years and then shuttled back and forth.
“My father was very pleased with his stay in this cosmopolitan city bustling with top-notch singers and music lovers,” Kiran remarks in her impeccable English. “He is good at settling down, socializing and making friends. Before we knew it we had a huge circle of music lovers.” Sultan Arshad and his family soon became close friends of legends like Anil Biswas, the genius behind songs like, Seenay main sulagtay hain armaan, O.P. Nayyar, Khayyaam of the Kabhi kabhi meray dil main fame, Laxhmikant-Pyarelal and Tusshar Bhatia.
“All us music lovers would sit and have lunch and sing old songs, and have hearty debates,” she reminisces wistfully in her mellifluous voice.
Forlorn at the state of affairs between the two countries, she recalls how when major riots broke out after the Babri Masjid episode, Sultan Arshad’s Hindu friends were more helpful than the Muslims because the Muslims were caught up in a frenzy of saving themselves. “With our friends there, religion was never a bone of contention.”
Kiran’s training in classical music began on Indian soil from a couple of music teachers when she was eleven.
“After my return to Karachi in 1992 (Her father was still in India), Abboo’s friend S.M. Shahid suggested that I start learning from Ustad Wilayat Ali Khan.”
Throughout the interview, Kiran answered all the questions in a detached way as is her hallmark. But she talks about her Ustad with unmistakable emotions.
“He was illiterate, but yet so broad-minded, straight-forward and so very simple. I was blessed to find someone like him. When I went back to Mumbai for a year in 1996 and we had to part, we really cried.”
In Mumbai Kiran wasn’t too enthusiastic about hunting down an ustad because she never thought anyone could compare with her previous one. “But eventually through Tusshar Bhai (Bhatia) I was introduced to Shampa Pakrashi.”
Once in Mumbai, Kiran participated in a few singing competitions even auditioning for SaReGaMa, the popular singing programme. “But I wasn’t chosen,” she says with an easy-going laugh. “I enjoyed the experience thoroughly. I had a wonderful time listening to beautiful voices all day long.” She admits to being nervous for the audition, which one found difficult to accept. “I was, I was,” she repeats.
Kiran is a regular singer at the PACC’s ‘Amateur Melodies’ - a music club founded by her father and fellow music lovers. She’s also recorded a few oldies for an album for Nayyara Noor and Sheheryaar Zaidi. She is quickly asked to sing a few lines. A little cajoling and time stops as I let her voice sing Madam Noor Jehan’s Changa banayae sweep me away to far off lands. “That’s beautiful,” I whisper.
She’s laidback. "Don’t you want to let the world know how good you are,’ I demand incredulously and insist that she sing professionally.
“It’s a hassle. My parents push me but I have let them down often. Maybe I’m camera shy. I can’t do what singers are ‘expected’ to do on TV today. I want a balanced life. Fame doesn’t tempt me. But music - I can’t do without it. For me music is spiritual.”
I feel that’s my cue to touch upon the controversy about music being haraam. Kiran was faced with the dilemma of choosing between music and her faith in 1998.
“My brother, who was reading a lot about religion then, suddenly declared that music was prohibited,” she says recalling that trying period in her life. “When I heard this, I vowed not to have anything to do with music until a religious scholar finally said that as long as music isn’t provocative, it’s allowed.” This relieved Kiran but till today she is open to more information and debate regarding this subject.
Kiran has poignant memories of Mumbai, the congested streets, the incomparable love for music in that part of the world, the lifelong friends they made. She even found something more there: her better half.
“I’m engaged and plan to tie the knot in a year,” she says in her matter-of-fact manner which is so much her trait. "I’ve know Mukarram for years. But it wasn’t until 1999 when I was attending a wedding in Mumbai when his mom floated the idea. “Both of us never expected this to happen,” she explains, “but we’re glad it did.” She says, a smile lighting up her soft features.