In an open space adjacent to a small local mosque is placed a coffin. The last prayer of the day has just been offered. It’s dark all around. All in all there are a few dozen people. Most of them are regulars who offer their prayer in this mosque. Some alien faces can be spotted who behave a tad awkwardly for not being familiar with the place. There are no tangled cables of movie cameras, no clichéd questions coming from newspapers reporters, and no thank you by photographers accompanied by flashes. The air is tense with cold stillness. This tiny crowd is eerily quiet; no voices, no whispers, no sound at all. And they are there to pay their last respects to someone who, in the words of poet Majeed Amjad, “was the man who sought immortality in the sound he created”.

I wouldn’t say “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears” though it’s the story of a man who was as tall in the world of our music as was the Caesar in the Roman Empire. This small gathering looks as if it embodies the “silence of the statues”. Perhaps the silence of a dead body makes the voice of the living a rude intrusion, a meaningless note. And perhaps nothing strange! The dead man wrapped in a black wrap never tolerated in his life a meaningless note, flat or sharp. Who could be such a musician other than Ustad Nazar Hussain, the maestro?

Soft-spoken and man of few words, he was quite the opposite of the stereotypical member of traditional musicians family. No jokes, no loose talk and no flattery of the powerful in the profession! He was as innocent as a dove. In most worldly matters he could be counted as a “don’t-know”. Though a dove he would fly in the world of music as an eagle. He could render the Asthais of some highly obscure ragas known only to a select few.

Ustad Nazar started his music carrier as a Sarod player. He was employed as a music composer by Radio Pakistan. When he got transferred to Lahore Radio Station in the 1980s I worked for Pakistan Television at Lahore Centre. It so happened that we became friends. His music stirred my imagination and perhaps my passion for music with little knowledge endeared me to him. Once I asked him why did he give up playing Sarod? His reply was amazingly honest and straightforward. “After listening to Amjad Ali Khan’s playing, I thought I wouldn’t be a better Sarod player than him. So I gave up and turned to composing music,” he said nonchalantly. With the benefit of hindsight one can say he made the right decision.

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Trained in classical music Ustad Nazar unlike classical musicians loved innovation and experimentation. While respecting tradition he took from it what suited his highly creative genius; complex classical patterns of sound that he employed to create melodies expressive of contemporary aesthetic needs in a transformed world. Intricately complex structures he created for his tunes/compositions looked easy to listen to but extremely difficult to render and thus posed a challenge to vocalists. Coupled with this was his unusually refined and highly imaginative sense of rhythm which he stunningly used to transport you to another world full of serendipitous gifts of awe and wonder. I heard him cribbing many a time that he had to dilute his tunes as the singers weren’t able to render what he had originally composed. He was happy when Noor Jehan, one of the most celebrated singers of the country, began recording non-film music for Pakistan Television Lahore Centre.

Ustad Nazar was the choice music director for the series titled “Tarunnum” which proved yet again that Noor Jehan was the most accomplished light singer this country produced. Most of the lyrics included in the series were composed by Ustad Nazar who felt elated that he had finally got a vocalist who could render what he composed in freedom. This series, on the one hand, gave Noor Jehan a new lease of life in her twilight years as a singer and on the other catapulted Ustad Nazar to an enviable place on the high table of sub-continental music. That’s why when Izzat Majeed and this scribe planned an album by well-known Indian singer Hari Haran for Sachal Music, he insisted that Ustad Nazar be requested to compose at least two lyrics(Ghazals to be exact) for him which he did. He set to music two “Ghazals”, one by Majeed Amajd and other by Nasir Kazmi, which are included in his album, titled “Lahore Ke Rang Hari Ke Sang” released in 2004 from Lahore. Composition of Nasir Kazmi’s Ghazal in Raga Darbari is stunning in its complexity and breathtaking in its aesthetic impact.

Another milestone in his carrier was his sole album “Rachna” produced by Sachal Studios, Lahore. Not all the people know that Ustad Nazar himself was a very refined vocalist though this is not what he has been generally known for as he was rarely recorded. He was not an easy musician to work with, not because of any false ego but because of perfectionist attitude in a world ruled by mediocrity. We helped him in terms of choice of lyrics. All the tracks in “Rachna” were composed and sung by him with spellbinding effect. The album displays a wide range of his repertoire. The renditions in the genres of Thumri, Kafi, Ghazal and Geet are a rare treat. The music was arranged by late Riaz Hussain with fifty piece orchestra. Balancing and mastering was done in the iconic Abbey Road Studios, London.

“Rachna’ alone, which was recorded when he was no longer young, places him among the top singing voices of our land. This would not have been possible without the support and affectionate care of his wife Arifa Siddiqi who in her own right is very talented actress and vocalist. Had she not been there to lovingly take care of him, Ustad Nazar would have been a lost man. Without Ms Arifa’s rock-solid protective ring a simple man like him, unacquainted with the ways of the world, would have disappeared much earlier. Though he was happy with his family life, Ustad Nazar Hussain, the music maker, died in despair surrounded by a culturally bankrupt world that cherished grating noise instead of serene sound of music that he loved. We will not meet another like him in our lives.