Eastern Eye marks the maestro’s recent birth anniversary on June 25 by presenting an all you need to know A to Z on one of Hindi cinema's most revered figures
By Asjad NazirJul 16, 2023
THE magnificence of master musician Madan Mohan is demonstrated by songs that remain massively popular decades after they were recorded.
Whether it was iconic love song Lag Jaa Gale in 1964 or his compositions being used on the 2004 Veer Zaara soundtrack nearly 30 years after he passed away on July 14, 1975, aged 51, he left a permanent mark on the Bollywood landscape.
Eastern Eye decided to mark his death and recent birth anniversary on June 25, 1925, by presenting an all you need to know A to Z on one of Hindi cinema’s most revered figures.
A is for Army: Madan Mohan joined the army in 1943 as a second lieutenant and served for two years until the second world war ended. His heart remained connected to music and he would organise shows for fellow soldiers. Shortly after leaving the army, he reconnected with music by joining All India Radio (see R).
B is for Beginning: The aspiring young hopeful began his professional music career by singing ghazals in 1947 and 1948. Composer Ghulam Haider gave him the opportunity to sing two duets with Lata Mangeshkar for the film Shaheed (1948), but they were never released or used in the movie. He also worked as an assistant to legendary music director SD Burman from 1946-1948.
C is for Cirrhosis: The music director went through a lot of struggles (see S), including not getting the recognition he deserved and the brutal murder of his brother, which affected him deeply. He began to drink heavily and eventually died of liver cirrhosis on July 14, 1975. The pallbearers of his body included famous actors Rajesh Khanna, Dharmendra, Amitabh Bachchan, and Rajendra Kumar.
D is for Debut: After several false starts, including his attempt to become a singer, Mohan made his debut as a music director with the film Ankhen (1950). The songs were so good that they helped to sell the movie to distributors and put him on the radar of other filmmakers wanting good music.
E is for Escape: A few months before his passing, Mohan had a lucky escape when his car skidded off the road and was fully destroyed. He had jumped out of the car just in time. Battered and bruised, Mohan caught a taxi and went straight for a scheduled studio session because he was never late for a recording.
Madan Mohan withwife Sheila Dhingra
F is for Family: He had an arranged marriage to Sheila Dhingra, niece of the freedom fighter Madan Lal Dhingra, in January 1953. He was devoted to his wife and children, and she described him as a deeply caring family man. Speaking of family, he was left traumatised when his talented cinematographer brother Prakash Kohli was murdered on a train.
G is for Ghazals: Mohan is particularly remembered for his ghazals, or songs connected to that genre. When he passed, legendary music director Naushad said: “The king of ghazals has gone and left no peer”. Meanwhile, Lata Mangeshkar described him as the prince of ghazals.
H is for Hits: The music maestro left behind many timeless hits that include Aap Ki Nazron Ne Samjha, Lag Jaa Gale, Jhumka Gira Re, Yeh Duniya Yeh Mehfil, Dil Dhoondta Hai, Husn Hazir Hai, Ae Dil Mujhe Bata De, Sapnon Mein Agar Mere Tum Aao To, Tum Jo Mil Gaye Ho, Rasm E Ulfat Ko Nibhaaen To Nibhaaen Kaise, and many more, including the Veer Zaara soundtrack (see V).
I is for Interests: The music maestro’s biggest passion away from music was sports. He loved watching cricket, hockey, wrestling, horse racing and football. He was a good boxer and a competition winning billiards player. Mohan was also into bodybuilding and had a better physique than the Bollywood leading men of the day. He was also an excellent chess player and renowned widely for his cooking skills. He loved travelling, with the UK being a favourite destination.
J is for Jaddanbai: His earliest musical influence was Jaddanbai, who was one of the first female singers and composers in Indian cinema. He was also inspired by the vocal styles of singers Begum Akhtar and Barkat Ali Khan.
K is for Kishore Kumar: Although Mohammed Rafi was his preferred singer, Madan Mohan was good friends with Kishore Kumar and worked with him on multiple movies. One particular song he recorded with him for the film Man Mauji (1962) was banned because it was considered anti-social.
Madan Mohan andLata Mangeshkar
L is for Lata Mangeshkar: Mohan worked with all the major singers, but his favourite was Lata Mangeshkar and he brought out the best in her with songs like Lag Ja Gale. They shared a brother-sister bond early on and she became his biggest champion in an industry that didn’t give him his due (see S). The Nightingale carried on praising him right until her death and said he was the composer who challenged her most. She said: “Madan Mohan’s music will prevail, for it embodied melody, the basis of Indian music. It was my privilege to have sung for him.”
Madan Mohan andMohammed Rafi
M is for Mohammed Rafi: His preferred male singer was Mohammed Rafi who became a muse for him. He challenged the singer to use his voice in different ways and the result was a long list of unforgettable songs, including Tum Jo Mil Gaye Ho, Kabhi Na Kabhi, Yeh Duniya Yeh Mehfil, Ab Tumhare Hawale Wattan Sathiyo, Sawan Ke Mahine Mein, Tere Dar Pa Aaya Hoon and many more.
N is for National Award: The musical magician was overlooked for major awards, despite delivering masterpiece movie soundtracks, due to his unwillingness to beg for work or honours. His only major honour was a National Film Award for Best Music Direction for Dastak (1970). This affected him greatly.
O is for Onscreen: The dashing young man harboured dreams of becoming an actor, but that didn’t work out. His first film as a hero was shelved, shortly after shooting. He made appearances in films like Shaheed (1948), Aansoo (1953) and Munimji (1955), but they were unable to kickstart his acting career.
P is for Posthumous: The musician’s popularity soared after his untimely death, with many of his songs being ranked as the greatest of all time. His soundtracks for Mausam (1975) and Laila Majnu (1976) were successfully released after he died. The biggest triumph after his passing was the soundtrack for 2004 film Veer Zaara (see V). Lata Mangeshkar said some people’s horoscope opens up after they are gone, in reference to the status Mohan gained after his death.
Laila Majnu
Q is for Qawwali: For the film Jahan Ara (1964), Mohan recorded a qawwali featuring the voices of Asha Bhosle, Lata Mangeshkar, Meena Mangeshkar, and Usha Mangeshkar. It is thought to be the only song featuring the four sisters, but didn’t make it into the movie and went missing. He was still particularly proud of the soundtrack because it had a whole range of music, but the film didn’t do well, and the songs didn’t get their due.
R is for Radio: During his school days, Mohan took part in children’s programmes on All India Radio and was responsible for discovering a nine year old girl with a beautiful voice – she would grow up to become singing superstar Suraiya. Years later, after leaving the army, he returned to All India Radio. This enabled him to interact with established musicians and singers, along with composing music for programmes.
S is for Struggle: The musician’s career was defined by struggle. He was held back by rivals, who prevented him from working with bigger movie banners and getting well-deserved honours. Some would block book studios, so he couldn’t record songs. Not getting the recognition he deserved or bigger movies, despite composing masterpieces impacted his mental health.
T is for Training: Apart from a very short stint learning the basics of classical music from Shri Kartar Singh, Mohan remarkably didn’t receive any formal musical training and was largely self-taught.
Veer Zaara
U is for Unused: The music maestro may have worked on over a 100 films in a 25 year career, he had a lot of compositions that weren’t used because a movie was shelved, or songs didn’t make the final cut. While some unused songs went missing, others remained unrecorded or were never released. Some of these missing treasures were released on the album Tere Bagair, decades after his death, and others were used in the film Veer Zaara.
V is for Veer Zaara: Mohan’s unused melodies were recreated by his son Sanjeev Kohli for the Bollywood blockbuster hit Veer Zaara (2004). His favourite singer Lata Mangeshkar sang a majority of the songs, which had new lyrics written by Javed Akhtar. The award-winning soundtrack connected a new generation to the magic of Mohan.
Woh Kaun Thi
W is for Woh Kaun Thi: For many, the greatest love song in Bollywood history is Lag Jaa Gale from the film Woh Kaun Thi (1964). Interestingly Raj Khosla had initially rejected it but was convinced to change his mind by Mohan and lead star Manoj Kumar. The blockbuster hit remains a classic and has been covered by many singers across the decades, including current Bollywood music queen Shreya Ghoshal.
X is for X Factor: Mohan’s immense ability to add Indian classical music elements gave his songs a more refined and timeless quality, which is why they remain popular today. This enabled the composer to find the middle ground between classical and commercial music, which subsequently connected him to wider audiences. He also took top singers out of their comfort zones.
Y is for Youngster: Mohan was born on June 25, 1924, in Baghdad, where his father worked as an accountant general with the Iraqi police. He spent the first five years of his life living in the Middle East and would spend hours listening to gramophone records as a child, which started his love for music. On his second birthday, he was gifted a small drum and soon developed a natural singing ability. His mother nurtured that love of music further as he grew up.
Z is for Zodiac: The predominant quality Mohan had of his star sign Cancer was being intensely emotional. This sensitive nature affected him deeply, when he faced trauma or didn’t get the recognition he deserved. It also benefitted his songs, which were filled with deep feelings and remain fabulous today.
Aamir Khan returns to the big screen this month in Sitare Zameen Par, a heart-warming Bollywood remake of the Spanish comedy-drama Campiones. He plays a disgraced basketball coach who takes on an unexpected challenge with a team of individuals with special needs.
Sporting a look unlike any from the past decade, the film – due out on 20 June – adds to the many transformations he has embraced over his career, from shifting hairstyles to dramatic facial hair.
Eastern Eye uses this new role as a chance to revisit the superstar’s evolving on-screen appearances.
Yaadon Ki Baarat (1973): An eight-year-old Aamir Khan made his film debut in a song sequence of this smash hit, produced and directed by his uncle Nasir Hussain. It marked the first time cinema audiences saw him on screen.
The actor’s evolving style from youth to maturity getty images
Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (1988): After working in further films as a child star and assistant director, the baby-faced actor was launched as a leading man with the hit romantic musical. He established himself with that same clean-cut look in subsequent films.
Aamir Khan embracing vintage looks with classic charmgetty images
Baazi (1995): This action thriller failed at the box office but is remembered for Khan dressing in drag. The striking female get-up was arguably the only memorable aspect of an otherwise forgettable film.
Rangeela (1995): In this musical hit, Khan played a street-smart ruffian and debuted a rugged new look with heavy stubble. The image shift helped him fully inhabit the role and showcased a different side of him to audiences.
Bold and dramatic changes defining Aamir Khan’s careergetty images
Ghulam (1998): Heavily inspired by the 1954 Hollywood classic On the Waterfront, this film saw Khan blend ruggedness with a more heroic edge. His portrayal of a hoodlum with boxing skills left a lasting impact.
Dil Chahta Hai (2001): With its fresh haircuts and urban styling, Farhan Akhtar’s directorial debut introduced a new wave of contemporary cool to Hindi cinema. Khan’s image underwent a complete makeover as part of the film’s trendsetting aesthetic.
From rugged to refined Aamir Khan’s versatile appearancesgetty images
Mangal Pandey The Rising (2005): After a four-year hiatus, Khan returned with his most dramatic transformation yet – long hair and an epic moustache that brought to life the spirit of the 19th-century freedom fighter.
Rang De Basanti (2006): This story of youthful defiance gave Khan a refreshed haircut. In historical flashbacks, he adopted other appearances inspired by the past, adding further layers to his portrayal.
Ghajini (2008): In this remake of a Tamil film – itself inspired by Hollywood drama Memento – Khan adopted a dramatic new look with a muscular physique and buzz cut that intensified the film’s emotional and action-driven edge.
Memorable film moments showcasing Aamir Khan’s unique stylegetty images
3 Idiots (2009): Khan turned back the clock in this record-breaking film, transforming his appearance to convincingly play a young engineering student. He changed his weight, hairstyle and mannerisms to suit the role.
Delhi Belly (2011): Producing this crime caper, Khan made a cameo in a song sequence where he donned a retro disco look. Funky glasses, glittery costumes and exaggerated 70s flair helped him stand out in yet another memorable appearance.
Talaash The Answer Lies Within (2012): As a serious police officer, Khan adopted a subdued look – short hair, a neatly trimmed moustache and a haunted expression, completed by a simple police uniform.
Dhoom 3 (2013): To play identical twins with different personalities, Khan adopted a muscular physique, sharp haircut, tight outfits, a bowler hat and intense expressions. This gave him another memorable identity.
Aamir Khan’s blend of classic and contemporary fashiongetty images
PK (2014): Portraying an alien, Khan had to create an entirely unfamiliar look. He did this by pushing out his ears, widening his eyes and pairing innocent expressions with mismatched clothes to enhance the character’s quirky charm.
Dangal (2016): Although he appeared as a younger, muscular version of his character, Khan’s look in this record-breaking movie was defined by older age. He transformed himself with extra weight, grey hair and weather-worn expressions.
Secret Superstar (2017): In this acclaimed film, which he also produced, Khan played a flamboyant music director. Leather jackets, tight trousers, eccentric hairstyles, earrings, facial hair and a rockstar swagger made it one of his most over-the-top looks.
Thugs of Hindostan (2018): The actor pierced his nose for this swashbuckling period film. With long curly hair, a scruffy beard, old-fashioned clothes and roguish expressions, he embraced the character’s mischief and flair.
Aamir Khan’s dedication to authentic character portrayals getty images
Laal Singh Chaddha (2022): In this remake of Forrest Gump, Khan portrayed his character across different stages of life. From clean-shaven youth to a heavily bearded older man, he showcased a broad spectrum of looks in a single film.
Sitare Zameen Par (2025): In the Hindi remake of Campiones, Khan plays a short-tempered basketball coach. After decades of dramatic transformations, the 60-year-old returns to a look that closely mirrors his everyday appearance.
Rang De Basanti (2006): This story of youthful defiance gave Khan a refreshed haircut. In historical flashbacks, he adopted other appearances inspired by the past, adding further layers to his portrayal.
Ghajini (2008): In this remake of a Tamil film – itself inspired by Hollywood drama Memento – Khan adopted a dramatic new look with a muscular physique and buzz cut that intensified the film’s emotional and action-driven edge.
3 Idiots (2009): Khan turned back the clock in this record-breaking film, transforming his appearance to convincingly play a young engineering student. He changed his weight, hairstyle and mannerisms to suit the role.
Delhi Belly (2011): Producing this crime caper, Khan made a cameo in a song sequence where he donned a retro disco look. Funky glasses, glittery costumes and exaggerated 70s flair helped him stand out in yet another memorable appearance.
Talaash: The Answer Lies Within (2012): As a serious police officer, Khan adopted a subdued look – short hair, a neatly trimmed moustache and a haunted expression, completed by a simple police uniform.
Dhoom 3 (2013): To play identical twins with different personalities, Khan adopted a muscular physique, sharp haircut, tight outfits, a bowler hat and intense expressions. This gave him another memorable identity.
Cinematic milestones reflected in Aamir Khan’s on-screen imagegetty images
PK (2014): Portraying an alien, Khan had to create an entirely unfamiliar look. He did this by pushing out his ears, widening his eyes and pairing innocent expressions with mismatched clothes to enhance the character’s quirky charm.
Dangal (2016): Although he appeared as a younger, muscular version of his character, Khan’s look in this record-breaking movie was defined by older age. He transformed himself with extra weight, grey hair and weather-worn expressions.
Secret Superstar (2017): In this acclaimed film, which he also produced, Khan played a flamboyant music director. Leather jackets, tight trousers, eccentric hairstyles, earrings, facial hair and a rockstar swagger made it one of his most over-the-top looks.
Thugs of Hindostan (2018): The actor pierced his nose for this swashbuckling period film. With long curly hair, a scruffy beard, old-fashioned clothes and roguish expressions, he embraced the character’s mischief and flair.
Laal Singh Chaddha (2022): In this remake of Forrest Gump, Khan portrayed his character across different stages of life. From clean-shaven youth to a heavily bearded older man, he showcased a broad spectrum of looks in a single film.
Sitare Zameen Par (2025): In the Hindi remake of Campiones, Khan plays a short-tempered basketball coach. After decades of dramatic transformations, the 60-year-old returns to a look that closely mirrors his everyday appearance.
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The Ancient India: Living traditions exhibition at the British Museum
The British Museum’s Ancient India: Living Traditions is among the most significant displays for Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists living in the UK.
Eastern Eye was given a tour of the exhibition by its curator, Dr Sushma Jansari, the Tabor Foundation curator of South Asia at the British Museum, and Kajal Meghani, the project curator, who has completed a PhD on the contributions of South Asian collectors to the museum.
A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Highlights in the exhibition include: Ardhanarishvara, “lord who is half woman” – Shiva and Parvati combined in one deity – dated about 1790–1810; the Bimaran casket, about 1st century; Gaja-Lakshmi (“Elephant Lakshmi”), goddess of good fortune, about 1780; Ganesha made in Java from volcanic stone, about AD 1000–1200; the head of a grimacing yaksha, about second or third century; Naga, about 17th century; a sandstone figure of Ganesha from Uttar Pradesh, about AD 750; a seated Jain enlightened teacher in meditation, about AD 1150–1200; and a silk watercolour painting of the Buddha from China, about AD 701–750.
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Jansari said one of the aims of the exhibition was to connect the figures with visitors, especially practitioners of Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism in the UK.
She said: “Most of them don’t know a great deal about Indian religions, so (this is) just to say that these might be ancient images, but they are and have always been under veneration. People do venerate them. This isn’t all about just one religious tradition. It’s about three of the indigenous religions of the subcontinent. You’ve got the Buddha, Ganesh and a Jain enlightened teacher (in close proximity).
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
“It was important for me, as a member of the South Asian diaspora, that I didn’t want to split up these traditions. I wanted very much to look at our collections and ask, what are the commonalities between Jainism, Hinduism and Buddhism.
“What are their artistic origins? Just as we live alongside each other, it was the same in the ancient past. It was even more fluid because you didn’t subscribe to just one particular religion. You would venerate at different shrines. You’d subscribe to different aspects of these different religions.”
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
She stopped at one point: “We wanted you to feel the atmosphere of ancient India. We’re in early India, maybe about the second century BCE. Most of the population live in the countryside. There are obviously some amazing cities as well, but we’re looking at the countryside.
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
You’re living in an agrarian society. The failure of your crops means famine, and the success of your crops means you are likely to survive another year with your family, and you will prosper. And we’re just trying to evoke that.”
In Indian mythology, a yaksha is a class of supernatural beings, often nature spirits or deities, that can be benevolent, mischievous, or even malevolent. They are frequently associated with water, fertility, trees, the forest, treasure, and wilderness. Yakshas are often depicted as guardians of places or treasures and can be found in Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist texts, as well as in temples throughout South and Southeast Asia.
“You can hear the sounds of nature,” continued Jansari. “Maybe you’re walking through a dappled forest, and then you encounter the yakshas, the yakshis and the (snake gods) nagas and the naginis. And these are some of the earliest images of deities in the subcontinent, shaped in human form, which is incredibly important, but it doesn’t mean that they’re consigned to the past. This is not ancient and long gone, like an exhibition of beautiful Greek or Roman art, but those deities are no longer under active worship. These have a long continuous life.”
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The yakshas and the yakshis were “not all lovely, happy figures,” said Jansari. “Actually, they need to be placated. You’ve got these grimacing yakshas here, and they’re clutching sacrificial animals.”
She pointed out a figure of “a voluptuous woman draped in jewellery. There’s lots of floral imagery. You are thinking about fecundity and plenty. But then you look a bit more closely at her hair, there are weapons emanating out. These are powerful, independent goddesses with a martial quality.”
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Jansari spoke about snakes and why in many societies in India, particularly in rural parts, they tend not to be killed.
She explained: “The nagas and the naginis were independent, really powerful gods. And in a society where the monsoon is incredibly important for the success or failure of your crops, the snakes are vital. You’ve got lovely plenty of water, which means your crops are growing, which means there are more rodents and frogs. So having lots of snakes around is a really healthy sign. They were venerated. They were not killed. It was considered very bad karma to kill a snake. And even now, you still don’t kill snakes. Within nature spirits, it’s not only yakshas and yakshis and nagas and naginis it’s also animal-headed deities.” She talked about the genesis of the exhibition: “I really wanted to show the connections between this ancient religious art and nature, but also the religions themselves. There are so many similarities. There are also key differences. I wanted to make sure that this exhibition is not seen as ancient objects from abroad which have no meaning or purpose here in the UK. They absolutely do for large portions of our society. This is very much part of British culture. That’s how Belgrave Road (in Leicester) happens.”
Meghani looked at “how these faiths and the practices travelled, not just from India to the UK, but there is this weaving through East Africa and other places, and how these traditions change and are adapted to these spaces, how it allows people to maintain a sense of connection with their families and also their faith.”
The curators had consulted places of worship in the UK. They included the Buddhapadipa temple in Wimbledon, the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir in Neasden in north London, as well as the Oshwal Association of the UK in Potter’s Bar in Hertfordshire.
Meghani said: “This is one of the films we created with a community partner in Potter’s bar. Manjula Shah, who volunteers at Potter’s Bar, wakes up at the crack of dawn to get to the temple for 7 am. She’s preparing sandalwood paste, and she’ll use that in the ceremony.
“And we wanted to include sites in the UK to show how South Asians are still carrying on their veneration practices within Britain today.
” In Ancient India: Living traditions is at the British Museum until October 19, 2025.
A NEW play explores the issues faced by this current generation of immigrants and questions the definitions of freedom and liberation, its playwright has said.
Permission, written and co-produced by Hunia Chawla, casts a questioning eye on the trope of ‘the oppressed Muslim woman’ and examines the links between patriarchy, protest, and the global political order.
In an interview with Eastern Eye, Chawla said, “There are not many voices of contemporary immigrants in today’s world. The immigrant stories we hear are from the 1950s and 1970s.
“There is not much discussion taking place, and I believe it is an important discussion to have, given everything that is happening in the world. What is the role of protest? Who gets to decide what freedom is? This tension between the West and the East that we often observe offers a new way of looking at these issues.”
Through the stories of Hanna (played by Anisa Butt) and Minza (Rea Malhotra Mukhtyar), the 70-minute play, which moves between a Heathrow immigration queue and a rooftop in Karachi, explores themes such as friendship, sisterhood, identity politics, and state violence.
“I believe this trope (the oppressed Muslim woman) holds significant importance because it is frequently employed to justify numerous oppressive measures against people from the global south, Muslims, and specific nations,” Chawla, who is in her late 20s pointed out.
“Consider, for instance, the situation in Afghanistan. There exists considerable outcry regarding the Taliban, and quite rightly so, as they are indeed oppressive towards women. However, the response to this oppression is the assertion that “we must save Afghans from the Taliban,” which then leads to sending weapons and dropping bombs on that very country under the guise of liberation. One ends up killing the same people one purports to liberate, and the irony of this situation is not lost on observers
“Similarly, regarding the Israel-Palestine conflict, much of the propaganda centres on the claim that all Palestinians are oppressive towards women and gender minorities, and this assertion is then used to justify genocide. Identity politics has become so divorced from actual political violence that it proves harmful at times – indeed, it is sometimes weaponised in deeply damaging ways.”
Hunia Chawla
According to the writer, who is from Karachi and lives in Yorkshire, the solution to the issue lies “simply in maintaining awareness”.
“It is crucial to recognise that Muslim women are not the only ones facing oppression, patriarchy exists everywhere. It is present here in the UK and across the globe, merely manifesting in different forms. The critical factor is determining who tells the story and who it serves.
“Currently, I observe a narrative structure featuring a saviour and the oppressed, with engagement conducted in a manner that serves the so-called saviour, who are, paradoxically, also the oppressors. This approach proves unhelpful and reinforces a colonial mentality of “we are modern and shall liberate you,” while considerable harm is being inflicted that remains largely unacknowledged,” she added.
In the play, Hanna tries to balance her political beliefs and personal choices by presenting herself as a ‘proper’ Pakistani woman. Her best friend, Minza, doesn’t care about appearing respectable to others. Their close friendship, played out in the busy city of Karachi, faces a major challenge when Hanna relocates to London seeking personal freedom and independence, meanwhile Minza stays behind in Karachi to campaign for political change through protests.
Chawla explained that while the play follows a chronological structure, showing Hanna’s journey from Karachi to London, it incorporates numerous flashbacks to her childhood and teenage years, creating a non-linear narrative.
She expressed her fascination with magical realism, noting that incorporating less naturalistic elements allows for greater character dimension and environmental shifts.
The play explores two distinct approaches to seeking freedom through its protagonists. Originally created as a 20-minute one-woman show and performed to a packed audience at The Space in London, Chawla developed the play into its current form over two years. She collaborated with director Neetu Singh to provide a “new vision” for the play.
She explained that Permission initially told the story of an immigrant girl from Pakistan dealing with the contemporary immigration process.
“The story expanded to explore the broader politics of immigration and questions of liberation and freedom, particularly for south Asian women navigating the immigration process and the complexities of dual identity between Karachi and London,” she said.
“Permission came from the essential question of what liberation means and who gets to define it,” Chawla said.
A still from rehearsal
She noted that Western media often presents reductive narratives, such as in Bend It Like Beckham, where a brown girl from a conservative family becomes “liberated” through western ideas, reinforcing a colonial mindset that positions the west as the standard for modernity and liberation.
The British Pakistani artist highlighted the hypocrisy within this narrative, explaining that while the main character Hanna may feel more secure as a woman in the UK, she encounters censorship when attempting to speak about state violence, Palestine, or western complicity in global conflicts.
“The liberation question becomes complicated – you’re not free to do everything. There’s a condition to that freedom,” she observed.
The Asian actor-writer developed an interest in poetry from a very young age. She studied at the University of Warwick and pursued a career in the financial sector upon completing her studies. She completed the Old Vic Theatre Makers programme and is currently part of the Soho Writers Lab.
Chawla added, “Viewers don’t need to be politically engaged to appreciate the production, as the play’s strength lies in intimate moments and the beautiful portrayal of friendship and sisterhood between its characters. Permission operates on multiple levels, combining serious political themes with genuine entertainment value. It is genuinely funny and engaging.”
She expressed confidence in the production’s broad appeal, noting that previous performances attracted diverse audiences who responded enthusiastically.
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Sons of the late, legendary Ustad Bahauddin Khan Qawwal
At a time when the spiritual essence of Sufi music is often diluted by commercial reinvention, Najmuddin Saifuddin & Brothers Qawwali Group stand tall as torchbearers of an unbroken tradition stretching back more than 700 years.
Sons of the late, legendary Ustad Bahauddin Khan Qawwal, the five brothers continue a sacred musical lineage dating back to the 13th century and the disciples of the genre’s founding figure, Hazrat Amir Khusro.
As they bring their stirring performances to audiences across the UK, the group shares stories from their journey, memories of landmark concerts, and the profound responsibility of carrying forward a legacy rooted in devotion, discipline and divine inspiration. The brilliant brothers – Muhammad Najmuddin, Saifuddin Mehmood, Zafeeruddin Ahmed, Mughisuddin Hasan and Ehtishamuddin Husain – also reflect on their inspirations and the best advice given to them by their legendary father.
How do you reflect on your journey as a group?
We have been on a meaningful journey since childhood, dedicated to presenting traditional qawwali to the world. But this journey began long before us – our family’s connection to qawwali dates back to Hazrat Amir Khusro’s time in the 13th century. Our ancestor was part of the very first qawwali group. So, this is a spiritual journey that has continued across generations, and it lives on through our current UK tour.
What has been your most memorable moment?
We have many wonderful memories – one was performing at Millennium Park in 2013, during the Chicago World Music Festival, where nearly 12,000 people sang along with us. In 2012, on the USA Worldfest tour, we had 1,500 school students singing qawwalis with us. On that same tour, we also performed at the triennial Jewish-Christian-Muslim interfaith dialogue.
Which other moments stand out?
In 2011, we performed at the inauguration of the Islamic Block of Metropolitan Museum in the US. A special highlight was collaborating with the Moroccan group Hassan Hakmoun Ensemble to present a kalam that merged qawwali with Gnawa – a form of African devotional music. In 2002, during a tour of Iran, we performed to an audience of 8,000, who all sang Persian kalaams with us. Honestly, every time we step on stage, it feels special.
How important is live performance to you personally?
We absolutely love performing live. The audience response energises us and adds momentum to our performance. That shared connection is what motivates us to give every show our all and create something unforgettable.
How much do you enjoy touring the UK and performing here?
We always enjoy performing in the UK. After Pakistan and India, the UK has the greatest appreciation for traditional qawwali and music with classical roots. Audiences here are excellent listeners who understand and value authentic qawwali. We hope to see everyone during our current tour, which is being organised by Jay Visvadeva of Sama Arts Network.
What can audiences expect from your shows?
As always, we will give our best kalaams and strive for perfection so UK audiences can experience traditional qawwali in its purest, most powerful form – deeply rooted in ancient tradition.
How do you generate so much power on stage?
Our uniqueness lies in our collective strength – we have always performed as a group rather than relying on a frontman. While many groups have just one or two lead singers, we have five. Audiences appreciate that and are often amazed that each member plays an essential role in the performance. That is why our shows are so dynamic and full of energy.
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
Tell us about the documentary you have made.
The documentary, produced by Kamran Anwar and Professor Katherine Schofield, traces the emergence, history and evolution of qawwali. It goes right back to the disciples of Hazrat Amir Khusro, who is recognised as the first qawwal in history. We are proud to say our ancestor was part of that original group.
How important is it to carry forward a legacy that stretches back centuries?
We are descendants of the leader of the first Qawwal Bachchay group. Ours is a continuous legacy spanning 25 generations, and we will continue to carry it forward. It is both our honour and our responsibility to preserve and pass on this tradition.
What do you most admire about your father, Ustad Bahauddin Khan Qawwal?
He was a true legend of the Khusro tradition. He believed in achieving perfection in every aspect of his work, art, and performance. He taught us every element of this tradition and was generous in sharing his knowledge, not just with us but with anyone who came to him. That is why his legacy extends far beyond the family.
What was the greatest lesson he taught you in your journey?
He always said, “Remain a disciple – never believe you are a teacher.” Being a disciple means you stay open to learning, remain inspired, and keep striving for perfection. The moment you think of yourself as a master, you stop growing, and others start questioning you.
What inspires you as a group?
We are inspired by simplicity, purity and excellence in performance. Our father never stopped striving for more, even though he was revered worldwide. He remained rooted in the Khusro tradition, and that focus continues to guide us. Our audiences also inspire us – whether we are performing for a few or for thousands, the energy they give back fuels us.
Why do you think Sufi music remains timeless and beloved?
Because it originates from the soul and speaks to the spirit. It brings calm, stillness and a sense of divine connection. Sufi music carries a universal message of love, humanity, equality, humility, peace and unity – all beautifully expressed through hypnotic rhythms and heartfelt vocals.
Why should people come to your upcoming UK shows?
Because the kind of qawwali we present is rare. It is not the inauthentic, Bollywood-style version that dilutes the genre. What we offer is real qawwali – in its purest form – and something you will not hear from any other group.
Najmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group are touring the UK until late July. Visit sama. co.uk for dates and ticket information.
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The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5