Bhopal: Bashir Badr wrote poetry the way most people speak after midnight — softly, without ornament. Yet inside those deceptively simple lines lived entire lifetimes of separation, longing and grief. For decades, those words travelled across India and Pakistan in Ghulam Ali’s haunting voice, turning ghazals like “Ae Husn-e-Beparwah” into part of the subcontinent’s emotional memory.
On Thursday evening, when the Lahore-based ghazal maestro was informed that the celebrated poet had died at 91, silence filled the phone line. Then Ghulam Ali quietly read a dua for the departed soul.
The 85-year-old singer, his voice weakened by illness and age, sounded shaken as he finally spoke. “People like him are born only once in an era,” Ali said slowly. “And once they leave, they never come again.”
The maestro confessed that he never got to meet Bashir Badr personally. Yet the poet had remained inseparable from his musical journey. Through Ghulam Ali’s concerts and recordings, Badr’s verses crossed borders effortlessly, entering drawing rooms, cassette players and lonely nights on both sides of the divide. Among the many poets he sang, Ghulam Ali said Bashir Badr possessed a rare quality. “His simplicity was unique,” he said.
“Deep inside, I wish I could attend his final rites,” the singer signed off.
Back home, Anup Jalota revealed that at his late-night Mumbai mehfils, Bashir Badr rarely tried to dominate the room. “A friend for more than 40 years, the celebrated Bhopal shayar often sat quietly in a corner, speaking softly, smiling gently and occasionally reciting a sher that lingered long after the gathering ended,” said Jalota.
Speaking to TOI from New Jersey, Jalota recalled first meeting Badr in Mumbai while searching for fresh ghazals to record. Mesmerised by the simplicity and emotional depth of his poetry, he later sang “Woh Chaandni Sa Badan, Khushbooon Ka Saaya Hai”, one of Badr’s very popular works.
“He was never loud. Very quiet, very subtle,” Jalota said. “Even his humour was delicate.”
Whenever Badr visited Mumbai, he joined Jalota’s gatherings attended by artists like Jagjit Singh and Hariharan. Yet the poet rarely spoke about himself. “He would say, ‘Forget me, think about Ghalib and Mir’,” Jalota recalled. The singer recalled Badr’s fondness for the Lucknow-style Tunday kebabs served at his home with rumali rotis. “He loved them,” Jalota said softly.
