One Beautiful Woman by

Ally Adnan

One of India and Pakistan’s greatest actors, Begum Khursheed Shahid started her

illustrious career in Delhi at the tender age of nine (9), both as a singer and as an

actor at All India Radio. As a singer, Begum Shahid received training from four (4)

great teachers – Roshanlal Bhagat, Feroze Nizami, Bhailal Muhammad Amritsari

and Roshanara Begum – but found greater success in acting, a craft that she learnt

on her own through observation, diligence and experience. The young Begum

Shahid migrated to Pakistan in 1947 and became a major player in the theater of

Lahore. She joined Pakistan Television Corporation in 1964, and acted in some of

the best plays produced by television in the next two (2) decades. In the nineties,

she started becoming disenchanted with television. She felt that the medium was

becoming commercial very rapidly and in constant state of decline. Begum Shahid

gradually disassociated herself from the television completely. The winner of one of

Pakistan’s highest civil awards, the Pride of Performance, Begum Khursheed Shahid

leads a life of quiet dignity in her tastefully decorated home in Thokar Niaz Beg,

Lahore. The great actor is at peace with herself and happy about what she

accomplished in life as an artist.

A truly beautiful woman never loses her ability to fascinate, enthrall and enchant.

Her beauty never withers. Age, adversity, illness, nothing affects her beauty which

is rooted in more than just good looks. Intelligence, wisdom, poise, dignity,

modesty, patience, and self-esteem are the primary contributors to a woman’s

beauty. These do not fade with time; if anything, they make a beautiful woman

more radiant as time passes, making her beauty eternal.

Begum Khursheed Shahid is one beautiful woman.

I met her after a period of more than three (3) decades ago, in Lahore, recently,

and found her to be as lovely as I had when I first met her thirty-five (35) years ago.

Nothing that is important had changed. She still had a regal manner and haunting

eyes, she still conducted herself with remarkable dignity, she still spoke clearly in

both Urdu and English, and she was still highly intelligent. Hers was a perennial

beauty. Time had not been able to touch it.

Begum Khursheed Shahid was well-known and well-liked at Pakistan Television

Corporation. People looked up to her both as a person and as an actor; her warm

and sincere persona made her popular with everyone who worked

with her. Everyone knew when she was in the studios, thanks to

the perfume that she always wore in abundance. Her presence

made the Pakistan Television’s staid corridors and dull studios

fragrant. She liked strong perfume and wore a lot of it. Shalimar,

Joy, Diorissimo and Chanel No 5 were her favorite fragrances. She

always carried a bottle of perfume in her handbag to refresh herself during the day.

One could always find her in the studios by following the trail of her scent.

Fragrance was not the only thing that Begum Khursheed Shahid

brought to the television studios; she came with contagious

professionalism that affected everyone working with her. Everyone

knew that Begum Shahid will arrive on time, have her lines

memorized, understand what she had to do well, and be in character

as soon as on set. They had no choice but to rise to her level of

professionalism.

“Professionalism is the key to success,” says Begum Shahid. “A good

actor has respect for himself and for his craft. He does not denigrate

his profession by not taking it seriously. He has respect for other

actors, directors, playwrights, musicians, engineers, technicians and

everyone else involved in the production, and demonstrates it at all

times, in all his actions.

“Actors work with a large number of people, some that they

like and others that they do not. They have to deal with a lot of

different circumstances, both expected and unexpected, and

situations, both pleasant and otherwise. The best actors are

highly professional know how to deal with people,

circumstances and situations of all kinds. More importantly,

they never let anything affect them in a manner that would hurt their craft. Getting

flustered does not become an actor. No one should be able to ruffle the feathers

of an actor.”

Begum Shahid was the quintessential representative of the golden era of television,

a time in which some of the best plays and serials in television’s history were

produced. Fame and fortune – which has always been incompatible with the arts

in South Asia – did not come with a career in television, at that time. People worked

at television because of their love for the medium, with a desire to do excellent

work and create programs of high quality. They were paid very little, and

sometimes nothing, and did not enjoy any perks of stardom. Their only reward was

the satisfaction of knowing that they had done something well. These people

produced programs that do the medium proud and that have remained unmatched

– in content, quality, and technique – ever since.

“Acting is not easy,” says Begum Shahid. “It asks for a lot and gives back little other

than satisfaction. Not everyone can become an actor and not everyone should. It

takes a lot to become a good actor. Let me talk about the qualities which are

needed to do well as an actor.

“First and foremost, an actor needs to have genuine commitment to acting and be

willing to work hard and persevere. Second, he must have innate acting talent and

a flair for entreating people. Third, he must be a master of the craft. This means

having facility in acting technique, vocal projection, clarity of speech, physical

expressivity, emotional eloquence, literary awareness, and knowledge of the

human mind. An actor must also be intelligent, perceptive and sensitive. He should

be able to interpret a story, its characters, locales and situations, from the point of

view of the character he plays, and that of others. He should use his intelligence to

develop attributes, traits and mannerisms that can make his character come alive.

And finally, an actor must be professional. This last one is absolutely essential.

These five (5) qualities make a good actor.”

Begum Khursheed Shahid was born with an ‘innate’ talent for acting and singing. “I

was the youngest of (3) sisters and had one (1) brother,” recounts Begum Shahid.

“My sisters and I were very boisterous and spent a lot of time singing, dancing and

acting. These were happy times in Delhi. One of the homes in our neighborhood

was unoccupied. It had a large marble platform in the garden. This was our stage.

We would sneak into the house and perform on our makeshift stage for hours. This

is where I decided to have a career in acting and singing.

“One of the biggest influences in my childhood was that of the Ramlila (رام الیل). The

theater used to hold performances in Shivaji Park which was close to our home on

Minto Road. Ramlila fascinated me. I used to watch all its performances with rapt

attention and had the lines of many of the characters memorized perfectly. I would

perform scenes from Ramlila with my sisters and, sometimes, when I was alone.”

Ramlila is a highly dramatic and vivid portrayal of the life of Ram (رام, seventh avatar

of the Hindu god Vishnu (ونشو)) based on the Hindu epic, Ramayan (راامنیئ). The

tradition of staging Ramlila started in the sixteenth (16th) century when Hindu saint

and poet, Goswami Tulsidas (ی د اسسلو

ت ,(اودیه) retold the Ramayan in Awadhi ,(وگوسایم

the language of the masses, instead of the language of the elite, Sanskrit (رکسنست),

in which it was originally written. Ramlila is performed over a period of ten (10)

consecutive days: the Navaratri (ونرارتی, festival of nine (9) nights dedicated to the

worship of Durga (راگورہسه) and the Dusehra ((د

و tenth day of the festival). The ,د

performance ends with an enactment of the final battle between Ram and Ravan

ن) demon king and villain in Ramayan); Ram’s victory in the battle signifying the ,راو

triumph of good over evil.

“My sisters and I used to wait for months to see Ramlila,” remembers Begum

Shahid. “The productions were colorful, theatrical and flamboyant yet very serious.

They laid the foundation of modern theater in India and Pakistani. I have never seen

better dialog delivery and voice projection than in the productions of Ramlila. The

plays were staged outdoors for audiences of hundreds who watched while seated

on the ground. No microphones and speakers were used in these productions.

Actors had to make sure that their voice reached each and every member of the

audience. I am often complemented on the clarity with which I deliver my lines,

and the way I enunciate words. I learnt this by watching Ramlila.

“My father was a civil servant and

worked in India Posts and Telegraphs.

He was an open-minded and liberal

man. Muslim girls at the time were

discouraged from acting and singing but

he supported my interests

wholeheartedly. It was my father’s

encouragement that gave me the

courage to audition for Aruna Asif Ali

who was a member of the Indian National Congress and Indian independence

activist. She use to scout for young talent in local schools.

She liked my singing and selected me to sing at All India

Radio when I was nine (9) years old. I met the great music

director, Feroze Nizami, and insisted on singing for him.

After listening to me, he gave me a poem to memorize and

promised to compose it for me after I had it memorized. I

was an ambitious young girl, always looking to surprise and

impress people. I not only memorized the poem but

composed it as well. When I sang it for Feroze Nizami the

following day, he

was astonished and exclaimed that I had

composed the poem in raag Darbari ( راگ

) melody composed by Tansen ,درابری سین تان )).

I did not know Darbari, or any other raag, at

the time, but concluded that he liked my

composition. He managed the orchestration

when I sang the poem but did not change the

tune that I had composed.

“All India Radio was located on Alipur Road in those

days. This was not too far from our home. I enjoyed

being on radio and started visiting the radio station on a

regular basis. Famous music director, Roshanlal

Nagrath, took a great interest in developing my skills as

a singer and provided me with invaluable guidance and

advice. I used to call him bhaiya ( ا ی ه brother) because ,ب

he always treated me like a younger sister. In those days, I used to sing geet (تیگ,

song), ghazal (زغل, poem) and thumri (همر یو

ب

, genre of light classical music) for All

India Radio.

“My acting career started at All India Radio as well. There was no television at the

time and plays were produced on radio. I became a member of the team of actors

who performed in these plays. I was acting and singing – the two (2) things that I

enjoyed most in life. Life couldn’t get any better.”

The partition of India and Pakistan was

heartbreaking for the sixteen (16) year old Begum

Shahid who was enjoying her life and career in her

beloved Delhi. “It was a tragedy of epic

proportions,” says Begum Shahid. “I did not want

to migrate. I had lived in Delhi all my life and could

not bear the thought of leaving the city. My

friends were all in Delhi. Everyone I cared for was

in Delhi. I was in love with the sights, sounds and

smells of the city. My career as an actor and a

singer was doing well. I wanted to stay in Delhi

even though the city had become increasingly

unsafe for Muslims. My father was a huntsman

and had a large collection of guns. My siblings and I were

comfortable using the guns. I tried to convince my family

that our facility with firearms would protect us in Delhi

but could not change their mind. In the end, violence

against Muslims escalated to the level that we had no

choice but to leave Delhi. We boarded a train to Lahore

in the summer of 1947.

“Once in Pakistan, I joined the Pakistan Broadcasting

Corporation. The station director was a kind and gentle man

named Mahmood Nizami. He encouraged me to make singing

my career and arranged lessons for me with Bhai Lal

Muhammad Amritsari (ب یئ لعل دمحم ارمرستی), of the Gwalior

gharana ( ہنهگ ا , school of music). My teacher shared the

history, intricacies and secrets of classical music with me. The more I learnt about

our music, the more I became interested in singing. This was a time when I wanted

to be nothing other than a classical vocalist.

“I was introduced to Malika-e-Mausiqui Roshanara Begum (ملکہء ومیقیس رونش آرا مگیب)

in Lahore and immediately took an immense liking to both her person and her

music. This developed into a lifelong friendship. I started visiting her regularly at

her home in Lala Musa (الہل ومیس). I used to call her didi (دیدی, elder sister). I had

immense respect for Roshanara Begum who I considered to be a mother, teacher,

sister and confidante. Her music was magical. I had never heard anything like that

in India or in Pakistan, and I had heard a lot.

“I had a great desire to become a student of Roshanara Begum and requested for

a formal initiation on several occasions. She relented one day and asked me to sing

for her. I started singing a vilambit khayal (ایخل

پ تم genre of classical music sung ,ت ل

in slow tempo) in raag Jait Kalyan (راگ تیج ایلکن, a pentatonic melody sung in

the evening) that I had learnt for Bhai Lal Muhammad. Her husband, Chaudhary

Ahmad Khan, was sitting in the verandah and could hear me sing. He asked,

“Roshan, kaun ga raha hai? (رونش، وکن اگ راہ ےہ؟, Roshan, who is singing?)” When he

found out that it was me, he remarked, “Wah! Jootha paani peenay se itna asar aa

jata hai ( اپین ےنیپ ےس اانت ارث آ! واه

اجات ےہ وجب Splendid! How one learns by serving and being

with a great singer.). He then walked inside and complimented me on managing to

keep Jait Kalyan distinct from raag Bhopali (واپیل ) and Deskar (راگ ب سکا ر راگید ), both

pentatonic ragas that employ the same notes as Jait Kalyan. The next morning,

Didi sang Bibhas (س

a pentatonic melody sung in the early morning) for us. It ,ب

was her subtle way of acknowledging my performance by singing a raag similar to

the one I had. That has her style, always understated and discreet.

“Didi’s singing always had a profound effect on me. It touched my soul. I

accompanied her on the tanpura (اتوپنرہ, musical instrument used for drone) for

decades. During her performances, she would sometimes look at me after

rendering a particularly complex taan (اتن, musical passage sung at fast speed) to

make sure that I had noticed it, and smile lightly. There was, however, one

performance in which never looked at me. She was singing, Piya Bin Nahin Awat

Chain ( نیچ آوت انںیہ نب ایپ , one cannot find peace without the beloved) her famous

thumri in raag Jhinjhoti (هوویٹ ج

هنج

an early evening) in an open air concert. The ,راگ

thumri always touched my heart but this performance was particularly poignant.

Tears kept rolling down my cheeks throughout the song. When the show was over,

I congratulated Didi on her masterful rendition of the thumri and asked her why

she had ignored me throughout the performance. ‘Khursheed, I knew that you

were crying throughout my performance,’ she replied. ‘I have to be in a good mood

to sing. Seeing you in tears would have ruined my mood and hurt my performance.

That is why I decided not to look at you while singing tonight. I cannot bear to see

you cry.’ ”

Begum Khursheed Shahid did not great

success in singing. “I have few regrets in

life,” she says. “Not becoming a successful

classical vocalist is one of them. I have

never really understood why I did

exceedingly well as an actor but failed as a

singer. When I visited India in, 1962, the

actor Motilal Rajvansh suggested that I

return to India and work with Roshanlal

Nagrath as a singer. I was considered a singer in

India and an actor in Pakistan. People in

Pakistan seemed to appreciate my singing but

always viewed me as an actor. I remember a

concert where I performed alongside Mehdi

Hassan and Iqbal Bano. My singing was greatly

appreciated and I had to return to the stage for

an encore. Journalist Ibn Abdur Rehman was amongst the audience and remarked

that an actor sang as well as professional musicians that evening. Even when I sang

well, I was considered to be an actor!”

Begum Shahid’s started her acting career in Pakistan with theater.

She acted in a number of stage plays mounted by the Lahore Arts

Council (now Alhamra Arts Council) and became one of the biggest

names in Pakistani theater in the late fifties and early sixties.

“Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Sadat Hasan Manto, Sadequain

and other literary stalwarts of our country were

involved in theater at that time,” reminisces

Begum Shahid. “The company of such great

individuals motivated all of us to do as well as we

possibly could. We had a collective hatred for mediocrity. Our

goal was to produce excellent theater. Nothing less was acceptable.”

Pakistan Television Corporation was established in

1964. The first program director of the institution,

and the father of Pakistani television, Aslam Azhar

knew Begum Shahid through her work in theater and

invited her to join television. “I was flattered to be

asked by Aslam Azhar,” says Begum Shahid. “My only demand was that I be paid

more than all other actors on television. The demand was not prompted by greed

– I do not love money – but by my desire to preserve my dignity as an artist. I

wanted my more than two (2) decades of acting experience to be recognized and

valued appropriately.

“Pakistan Television used to transmit live between the hours of six

and nine in the evening, in those days. There was no transmission

on Mondays. Aslam Azhar had assembled a remarkable team of

extraordinarily talented people. We produced better programs in

the eighteen (18) hours we were on air each week than the more

than one hundred (100) twenty-four hour channels do today.

“My first play for television was a comedy titled Ras Malai (رس المیئ). It was a huge

success. After this play, television became my life for many years. The institution

treated me with respect and afforded me many opportunities to do well as an

actor. I must have done hundreds of plays for television including Samandur

) Saahil ,(دنمسر) Chabi Aur Chabiyan ,(نم ےلچ اک وسدا) Man Chahaly Ka Sauda ,(اسح

ر) and Fishar ,(وادی رپاخر) Waadi-E-Purkhar ,(اچیب اور اچایبں)ش

but there are two (2) (ف

that stand out for me - Masoom (معصوم) and Fehmida Ki Kahani, Ustani Rahat Ki

Zubani (ابین .(دیمہفه یک اہکین، اواتسین راتح یک زو

“Masoom was written by Dr. Javed Iqbal. I played a woman who hypnotizes her

husband to get him to commit crimes unwittingly. It was a complex role. The long

mantra (رت ن

-she used to hypnotize her husband was based on text from Kashf-Al (م

Mahjoob (حج و بمل

رضحت داات جنگ ) Revelation of the Veiled) by Hazrat Data Ganj Baksh ,فشک ا

It was written in archaic Urdu and included numerous Arabic and Persian .(شخب

words and phrases. It was not easy to memorize

and deliver. The director was skeptical of my ability

to deliver my lines accurately on live television. He

had instructed the crew to fill the set with cue

boards to assist me with my delivery. I prepared

the lines with an obsessive zeal making sure that I

knew the correct pronunciation of each and every

word. I memorized the entire passage over a

period of three (3) days, doing little other than

work on my lines. In the end, I did not need the cue

boards. I recited the mantra flawlessly. A few days

later, I met the vice chancellor of Punjab University

who complimented me on my performance and

invited me to come to the university and teach

memorization techniques to students.”

Fehmida Ki Kahani, Ustani Rahat Ki Zubani was one

of the most memorable plays of Begum Shahid’s

career. Ashfaq Ahmad’s powerful play dealt with

the effect of ostentatious display of wealth on

society. It focused on the suffering of an

impoverished young girl, Fehmida, who could see

displays of wealth all around her but not

comprehend why she had been denied prosperity

by God. The cruel contrast between the glittering

display of riches that surrounded Fehmida and her

own grim poverty was the cause of her agony and

misery. It ultimately took her life. Begum Shahid

played the role of her mother, Ustani Rahat, who

worked hard to make a modest living and preserve

her dignity in a decidedly materialistic society.

Begum Shahid eschewed Chekhov, Cojar,

Chubbuck, Meisner, Stanislavsky, and Strasberg

when playing Ustani Rahat by inhabiting the

character and making its soul her own. “Once I was

inside Ustani Rahat, the rest was easy,” remarks

Begum Shahid. “The schoolteacher’s gait,

mannerisms, style of talking and emotions all came naturally. I did not have to work

on them. I succeeded at simultaneously portraying

the mother’s innocent lack of understanding and

instinctive empathy for her daughter’s misery. The

monolog at the end, after the death of the

daughter, left me in tears. I was not acting. I

remember that everyone on the set was crying

when the scene was recorded. It took some time

for the crew and a few days for me to recover. It is probably the best performance

of my life.”

Begum Shahid’s extraordinary performance was appreciated all over the country

and Pakistan Television Corporation

selected her as the winner of the

annual award for best female actor.

She was informed of the award and

asked to make herself available for

travel to attend the award

ceremony. A few days later, a

competing female actor used her

considerable influence to replace

Begum Shahid’s name with her own as the winner of the award. Begum Shahid was

unaware of the behind-the-scene machinations and kept contacting PTV to enquire

about her airline ticket. No one would give her a straight answer

and she had to figure out what had happened on her own.

Begum Shahid handled the gross contravention of fair play with

her characteristic dignity. “The award would not have made my

performance better than it was,” she commented. “It would not

have made the slightest difference to me or my self-worth and

esteem. I am sure the other lady needed it more.”

Begum Shahid found satisfaction in doing good work and not

in receiving medals and awards. She held herself and

everyone else to high standards. “In my career, I worked with

a lot of actors but was never really impressed anyone.” she

says. “They were mostly competent but no one, with the

possible exception of Muhammad Qavi, ever knocked my

socks off. Qavi had real acting talent. I used to enjoy working

with him.”

“Things have changed at television over the years and not for the better. I no longer

wish to be associated with television. Glamour and glitter have taken the place of

talent, intelligence and experience. Preparing for a role has come to mean buying

clothes, dressing up and wearing load of

make-up. Every woman on television –

whether poor or rich, healthy or sick,

young or old, awake or asleep – is always

in full make-up and designer clothes.

Austere but apropos sets have been

replaced by irrelevant exotic locations.

Creative thought and intellectual acumen are no longer the driving forces in the

industry. They have been replaced by advertising revenue, ratings, sycophancy and

greed. Television is not a lovely place anymore. I no longer belong in it.”

Indeed, a woman as beautiful as Begum Khurshid Shahid does not belong in today’s

ugly world of television. An industry where intelligence, wisdom, poise, dignity,

modesty, patience, and self-esteem are not respected, and where good looks,

social status, fake accents, studied style, designer clothes and bogus tantrums are

valued, does not deserve a Begum Khursheed Shahid. The beautiful lady represents

a beautiful era that ended many years ago. Alas!

Ally Adnan lives in Dallas, Texas, where he works in the

field of mobile telecommunications and writes about

history, culture and art. He can be reached at

allyadnan@outlook.com.