In June 1991, when pop singer Alamgir appeared on Pakistan Television singing ‘Mere Khayalo Pe Chaayi Hai’, a number of teenagers were hearing ‘Kokokorina’ for the very first time. But I was stunned to discover that it was recorded further 25 years back and was originally sung by Ahmed Rushdi - the ‘originator’ of pop music in Pakistan.
Born on April 24 in the year 1934, Rushdi was a wide-ranging playback singer who earned fame after singing ‘Bandar Road se Kemari’ in a children’s program on Radio Pakistan.
He sang over 900 songs in his illustrious 20-year career, mostly for Waheed Murad, Kamal and Muhammad Ali. He could sing fast numbers as easily as he could render sad songs. ‘Dil Tumko De Dia Hai’ and ‘Ae Abr-e-Karam’ from Naseeb Apna Apna are prime examples of his work. He made Habib Jalib’s ‘Pyar Me Hum Ne Khaayi Hai Thokar’ as famous as ‘Main Nahi Manta’. Be it Suroor Barabankvi’s ‘Nadiya Behti Jaaye’ or Himayat Ali Shair’s ‘Pyar Me Hum Ae Jaan-e-Tamanna’, Rushdi could do wonders with all poets, lyricists and musicians.
No one has surpassed his tally as a male singer in Pakistan, yet his contribution to television, which arrived on the scene in 1960s, is also extraordinary. Had Rushdi never appeared on TV, we may still be watching only ghazals.
Dubbed the first pop singer of the country, he introduced a completely new style of singing on TV. He would lip-sync to his songs, dance to the music, move around on the set as well as indulge the audience. Ahmed Rushdi used to appear in TV shows Sunday ke Sunday, Sangeet Bahar and many others before having a show Bazm-e-Rushdi completely for himself by 1974. A master of his art, he inspired many youngsters to take up pop-music as a career.
Khalid Waheed, one of the pop singers who came to the fore in the late 70s, believed Rushdi was underrated given his talent. “He was one of most versatile artists Pakistan has ever produced. His delivery of words was phenomenal. He was an exceptional performer who was ahead of his times.”
Khalid, who himself excelled along with Alamgir and Mohammed Ali Shehki on TV, regarded the presence of Rushdi as a blessing to his generation.
Rushdi shifted to Karachi in late 70s when the music in films went into the ‘wrong hands’. Production of Urdu films reduced and TV offered better work. Famous music director from TV, Javed Allah Ditta, remembered the legend affectionately. “He was a fine gentleman who used to put in extra effort in his singing. I had worked with him in films when I used to assist Nisar Bazmi. Later, when he shifted to Karachi, I was always there at his concerts as a guitarist.”
Who can forget the ever famous ‘Chai Chaaye’ tea commercial from the early 70s? Rushdi sang the lines for comedian Nirala during his peak as a film singer. The ‘Konsi Janaab’ is still ‘heard’ by tea lovers, whenever they yearn for a cup of tea, even today. Such is the enduring power of Ahmed Rushdi.
Rushdi’s busy film schedule didn’t allow him to contribute more time to television. However, with film music in decline by the late 70s, Rushdi once again turned his attention to the medium. This time, he was supported by Saeed Rizvi, ‘the new kid on the advertising block’, who had been churning out ads at an enormous speed.
“It was one fine day in 1978, when I was informed of his arrival at my office. He happened to be my elder brother Masood Rizvi’s friend as they had collaborated for Ghar Damad, Bhaijan’s directorial debut. Rushdi bhai had also sung extensively for my father’s (Rafiq Rizvi) films and had close ties with our family. The ads I was making in those days needed a voice like his, something ideal for TV. The moment a troubled Rushdi bhai asked me for some work, I was flattered. Singers like Mehnaz were given 500 rupees for a jingle, but keeping Rushdi bhai’s stature in mind, I made sure he got twice the amount.
He sang for over a dozen jingles for me. Of those, ‘Yamaha Japani’ and ‘Folks Own Cigarettes’ are still popular,” remembered producer/director Saeed Rizvi, who went on to back the country’s first sci-fi feature, Shanee.
With Zia-ul-Haq’s martial law, came the famous ‘dupatta policy’ for PTV. Film industry had its share of strict ‘censor’ laws and for Ahmed Rushdi, who was now a heart patient, going back was not an option. He wanted to stay with television but with a virtual ban on singers who moved around a lot, there seemed little hope. In an extreme case of hypocrisy, youngsters could be seen dancing to pop beats while legends like Malika Pukraj, Mala, Ghulam Ali and Mehdi Hassan were aired only in static mode. Rushdi was sidelined due to his ‘progressive’ performances and it was not until the Special Election Transmission of November 1988, that he re-emerged on TV.
Sadly, he died in Karachi in April of 1983, days short of what would have been his 49th birthday.