Original subtitles

My friend, it is springtime

Please invite my beloved for a feast

Bring him soon

Red roses are abloom everywhere

Please invite my beloved for a feast

Zeba, there is a fire. Leave now.

Zeba, run now. There's a fire.

What are you doing?

Run now.

Greetings, Mom.

Greetings, Rooh Rani.

Let's drink tea...

Here you go.

What else do you want?

Take this too.

Here you go.

Hurry up. The school bus is here.

It's important to be punctual in life.

Bye, Grandma.

Bye, dear.

Bye, mummy.

They've become so naughty.

Completely spoiled by you.

You were way more mischievous.

People tend to forget their own deeds.

Really?

Excuse me, I'm already listening to a song.

Oh! sorry sir.

You could have told us earlier...

We didn't know of so many demands.

Not demands...

They're requirements.

Here's the list again.

Last time, the musicians had to share mics.

Noorji can't tolerate her team being inconvenienced.

Next time, I'll just walk off the stage.

No, no...

Please sign this contract.

Okay, thank you.

You don't need to initial every page.

Sir, I've been singing here since before you were born.

If every page isn't signed...

I've seen contracts changing.

It's not like that... Please trust us.

Mr. Bashir, trust needs to be earned...

...it's not given away.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Here's your advance fee.

- Greetings. - Greetings.

Ma'am...

He is writing a thesis on Kashmiri music.

He's come from Mumbai.

Studied at Berkelee Music College.

Graduate from America.

He wants to interview you...

You know that I don't do interviews.

And don't invite anyone without an appointment.

Doesn't feel right.

Just meet him once...

- Ma'am... - No.

Let's go.

C'mon, drive.

Let's go.

Grandma, can I also become a singer like you?

Of course.

When you grow up, sing from your heart.

Will you do that?

Let me rock you to sleep, my precious one

My precious one...

The one who stole my heart

in the cover of darkness...

Yes.

Go ahead a bit...

Ma'am...

Yes?

Even after that incident,

how is it okay to not have backup copies of the recordings?

I can't take a risk again.

I've sent a request ages ago.

We've also sent an application.

It's government property...

It's difficult without budget approval.

It's just difficult. Not impossible.

It's not just about me.

Azaad Saheb, Bhan ji, Haseena...

So many artists... it's their hard work too...

It is my responsibility to protect their legacy.

But I'm trying my best.

If you had any respect for us artists...

...you wouldn't be trying, you'd take the decision.

I won't take much of your time.

I just have a few questions for you.

Are you a journalist?

No, no...

I'm an aspiring musician, a lover of Kashmiri music and...

...a very big fan of yours.

It's very important for people to know your story.

Look...

Now this is special.

The journey of female musicians in Kashmir began with you.

What will you do with my story?

Sell it?

No, no... What are you saying?

How can I sell something that's priceless?

Tomorrow 4:00 pm.

Tiboo will tell you where.

May God protect you.

Thank you ma'am....

Thank you Tiboo ji....

How are you, Shagufta?

How's the cafe?

Blessed by your wishes.

What'll you have? Gulkand Kahwa?

Yes, sure.

Sit. Sit...

Please sit...

Tell me.

So, how did it all begin?

You must have faced a lot of hurdles...

What was your biggest challenge at that time?

Your relatives, your family...

Slow down...

First, let me see if I can trust you.

It's your story.

It will be written exactly the way you want.

What's your name?

Rumi.

Wonderful!

So, Mr. Rumi...

Aren't your folks back in Mumbai worried?

You here, all alone...

Now there's only Mom back home.

Papa passed away last year.

Were you close to him?

I am.

Me too...

My father was a simple tailor. But...

But he was a very progressive thinker.

Ahead of his times.

During those times, there were many restrictions on women.

But my father was different.

One in a million.

May he rest in peace.

My glass cracked and my vessel lost its tune

My glass cracked and my vessel lost its tune

Oh will my beloved accept me despite my imperfections?

Zeba, where are you?

Greetings.

Greetings.

Let me help you, Abba.

What's this?

Your Eid gift.

Rafiq told me you refused an offer to work at his shop.

I managed to persuade him with great difficulty.

I don't want to work in any spice factory.

I'll open my own shop very soon.

So you want to remain a woman's tailor forever?

This is why no one respects us.

Zeba, who'll make tea?

Open his own shop...

You can't do any work properly.

I'm the one who your in-laws will blame.

We've to get you married off soon so I can be rid of you.

A good deed, indeed.

Whenever it's time for her to leave, you make her life hell.

For heaven's sake, mind your language and your behaviour.

Don't you worry about my behavior.

I'm getting late for work.

Don't forget your burkha.

The world has changed but you won't.

Stop with your nonsense and get lost.

That was a time when freedom and progress were in the air.

Everything was changing.

But I kept feeling anxious that everyone else was moving ahead....

...and worried that I shouldn't be left behind.

But I also knew that...

...time requires one to change.

So this freedom and progress will come knocking at my door.

Accompanied by many such questions and a lot of hope, my journey continued.

For the lure of the heavens

Or for the fear of the hell

We pray to you, God...

You look so pretty.

Look.

- You didn't wear your lipstick? - Give.

This is a sin.

Do you have no manners?

Madam, mind your language.

You'll get respect when you show respect.

Did you understand or should I repeat it, idiot?

Let's go, girls.

You must sing today.

For me?

When the bells embellished on my hem fell,

they made a sound my friend

When the bells embellished on my hem fell,

they made a sound my friend

I lost my childhood

It slipped far away from me

A lotus blossoms only in muddy waters

I've been teaching for 40 years.

I've heard voices with immense capabilities.

But yesterday, for the first time I found one with serenity.

This is God's miracle.

If you're willing to work hard,

I'm willing to teach you.

Agree?

Master ji...

It'll be my honour.

- But... - I know.

I know.

That is why I am going to talk to your parents.

I will increase your work hours by an hour.

This way, you'll learn singing while you're at work.

But if this gets out, it will get ugly at home.

My dear...

Not everyone is blessed with such talent.

Remember...

...what no one has heard...

... it isn't a voice, but a rumour.

And Moji?

If she gets to know, I'll be grounded.

If you can't dance like a peacock out in the open,

then sing stealthily like a cuckoo.

No one in Kashmir has ever seen or heard a woman sing.

But, if Master ji has said it, he must have thought it through.

After all, everyone has an equal right to try.

Just keep this hidden from Moji.

You're my life, my heart.

Zeba, aren't you getting late?

Hasn't Master ji increased your work hours?

Increased hours? Why didn't you tell me?

Why are you still here? Leave now.

Leave now.

Sorry Master ji, I got a little late.

Time only values the ones who respect it.

Sit.

Let's begin.

We surrender to you, God.

We surrender to you, God.

I had always hoped...

...that a day would come,

when women would also sing here.

For years, I have been searching for a voice,

that could be called the voice of Kashmir.

My search ends today.

There's a competition at Radio Kashmir.

I want you to participate in it.

Competition, Master ji? How can I enter a competition?

I have filled up the form.

All you have to do now is sing from your heart.

This voice cannot be caged any longer.

Friends, welcome to Voices of the Valley.

Today, we are going to have,

a conversation with a well-known poet from the valley, Azad Maqbool Shah.

Your father has been a renowned judge in Kashmir.

But you went to Oxford to study literature.

Weren't you interested in practicing law?

My father named me Azad, so that my thoughts, my art, my purpose,

could breathe free, without restriction.

Kashmir is called the city of love.

Let's hear something for our youngsters, who are also your fans.

Back in Oxford,

I was greatly inspired by the love poems of Keats.

When I returned, I became aware of Habba Khatoon's poetry...

...and I realised she'd given love a new meaning.

Her poems weren't mere wordplay.

Her poetry came straight from her heart.

I'd like to recite one of Habba Khatoon's poems:

I am the land,

you are the sky.

The lid to our secrets.

I am the guest, you the host.

Shower those young blooms.

Which poet has influenced you the most?

Life.

Has there been a greater poet than Life herself?

My glass cracked and my vessel has lost its tune

My glass cracked and my vessel has lost its tune

Oh, will my beloved accept me despite my imperfections?

Who allowed her here?

You're in the wrong place.

This competition is only for men.

No, I've come to the right place.

Ignore all of that.

These are the lyrics. Rehearse them.

Radio Kashmir competition?

So, you'll become a singer?

Don't be foolish.

Have you even seen a female singer in Kashmir?

No... But there can be right?

I poured wine into unglazed cups for him

I poured wine into unglazed cups for him

to remind him of my free-spirited youth

Oh, will my beloved accept me despite my imperfections?

My glass cracked and my vessel has lost its tune

Oh, will my beloved accept me despite my imperfections?

- Greetings. - Greetings.

- Azad Saheb? - Yes?

We've to go to the university. The car is ready.

Why University?

You've forgotten. Today's the competition.

It has always been Radio Kashmir's attempt to bring new, emerging talent to you.

Welcome to Radio Kashmir Talent Competition.

Thank you.

And for our next performance,

we have our first female participant.

What is a girl doing here?

How is she allowed to perform?

The one who stole my heart, in the cover of darkness

The one who stole my heart, in the cover of darkness

And left me to face people's ridicule

If he comes back, I will grab the hem of his shirt and plead

to the one who left me to face people's ridicule

The one who stole my heart, in the cover of darkness

The one who stole my heart, in the cover of darkness

My tears have pierced wounds in my body

My tears have pierced wounds in my body

And inflicted intense sorrow upon me

And inflicted intense sorrow upon me

These thorns that I have received, incite me to tear my robe, my identity

And left me to face people's ridicule

The one who stole my heart, in the cover of darkness

Friends,

there's no need to even announce the winner...

Today is a golden day in the history of Kashmiri music.

Let's put our hands together,

for the first female winner of Radio Kashmir competition -

Zeba ji, please come up on stage. Congratulations!

Apart from a cash prize,

you'll also get a chance to sing at Radio Kashmir.

Now the Director of Radio Kashmir, Mr. Kaul will honour you with an award.

- Masterji I won't go. - Go, go.

Congratulations. So, when would you like to start?

Master ji, I'm getting late. My parents must be worried.

- I'll leave. - But...

Listen to me...

- You sang very well. - Thank you, Sir.

These days, riff-raff are being honoured.

Please meet Kashmir's famous poet & lyricist - Azad Maqbool Shah.

Wonderful.

- Your voice is special. - Thank you.

Hey, wait, please. Why are you running away?

You have no idea how tough being here and singing has been for me.

It can all change in a moment.

Things will change.

When you sing for Radio Kashmir, it'll be a revolution.

Not a revolution, but a storm.

- That's why I can't do this. - What do you mean?

You've won the competition. This opportunity won't come again.

You're a man.

You look for an opportunity to showcase your talent.

We women seek excuses to pursue our hobbies.

Good bye.

Wait, you are forgetting your contract.

Please do come.

My poetry will be waiting for your beautiful voice.

Congratulations.

I had never even imagined that I would win.

Why aren't you happy about winning?

It's not that easy.

I'll have to sing for the radio.

I'll have to train daily to prepare.

You seem to have forgotten...

Moji, our relatives... How will it happen?

Why tell anyone in the community?

Go quietly, do your job and come back home.

That's all.

But you can't let this go.

What a talented singer...

Her voice reaches higher than opera singers.

Azaad, this is Kashmir, not London.

What do you mean?

Here, women only sing in the fields or sing lullabies.

It's not right to sing like this in public.

Tell me one thing...

Is it written by God that only men can be artists?

Times are changing.

What Lata Mangeshkar, Noor Jehan, Mubarak Begum have done for Hindi and Urdu language,

Zeba could do the same for Kashmiri artists. Just think about it.

This is Kashmir.

What are you talking about?

Well then, there's going to be a revolution in Kashmir.

Brace yourselves.

Shall we begin?

You are continuous...

You...

You are complete.

Here. Trust in God's will.

Habibullah! He's a landlord.

They own many acres of land in Kraal.

Lots of money and an even bigger heart.

Lives in a huge mansion in Jammu.

Yes, of course. With three children from his first wife.

Zeba is smart. She'll manage it.

Anyway, it's a virtuous deed.

Virtuous? Is it also virtuous that he's 15 years older than Zeba?

Obviously Abba. That's why it's a virtuous deed.

That's why it's virtuous.

I've grown old carrying the burden of your Abba's failures.

You be smarter, Zeba.

God has given you a beautiful face; take advantage of it.

God hasn't created women to just get married off.

Keep living in your dream world then.

When reality will hit, you'll fall face down and come to your senses.

Foolish girl.

Sir, I'm not doing anything wrong, am I?

You'll be doing something wrong, if you don't do anything

You won't get such an opportunity again.

But if your heart is not in it, do as your Moji says.

Just like other women...

...sing for the rest of your life while washing clothes and dishes.

You forgot to knock.

I'm Zeba Akhtar... from the competition...

Come on in.

Singing at weddings is different from singing in a recording studio.

Continuity.

Flow.

Do you know what that is?

Now that you've won the competition, we can't really say anything.

Let's go to the recording room and hear you sing.

Right now?

Why not?

I have heard that a true artist is always ready.

Aren't you?

You must have memorized the lyrics?

Come.

And she wants to be a singer...

Nonsense.

My friend, it's springtime.

Please invite my beloved for a feast.

Bring him soon.

Red roses are abloom everywhere.

Please invite my beloved for a feast.

Excuse me, where's the toilet?

We don't have a ladies' toilet here.

Then where should I go?

Thank you.

What is she doing in a men's restroom?

What happened to our past affection?

Why did you forget me, what is my fault?

What happened to our past affection?

Why did you forget me, what is my fault?

You were the one who I shared my worries with

Bring my beloved with you for a feast

You were the one who I shared my worries with

Isn't that too much money for your time?

Has there been a mistake somewhere?

When will my problems be resolved,

oh, my beautiful lover...

Did I do something wrong?

Along with the melody, it's important to understand the lyrics too.

Your song has a body, but you must infuse a soul in it.

For instance...

Do you know what "Nyay andey" means?

The solution to a problem?

No.

The song is about love.

Not about life.

The thought is about dying for a single glimpse of the beloved.

Create that feeling within you.

Feel it.

Then sing.

What should I do Master ji? I've no clue.

There's a solution - the voices of our Sufi saints.

Meaning?

Lal Ded.

Her words echo in Kashmir even today.

Every good Guru is first a good disciple.

Like, Nund Ryesh.

Arnimaal.

Poetry in the poet's separation.

Shams Faqeer.

The world used to intrigue him, just like it would intrigue Einstein.

These Sufi poets shared one special thing.

They got their experiences from outside.

But their art...

...made them look deep within?

Very good.

Only a true artist can say this.

I've learnt from you, Master ji.

Very good.

This belonged to my mother.

She was also a poet.

She wouldn't go anywhere without this.

She always said, "Presentation matters."

It's yours now.

Thank you.

Kaul Saheb, I have a request.

My name cannot be announced.

If people find out, there will be an uproar.

I've promised my father.

If you can't use your real name,

then use a different one.

Pseudonym

What's that?

Like Madhubala.

Dilip Kumar also did that.

Noor Begum.

A voice, that reaches the soul, like light (Noor).

Noor Begum.

Excellent. What a suggestion.

Amazing.

The voice of Radio Kashmir- Noor Begum.

Congratulations on your first live performance.

Your full name? For the introduction.

Friends, welcome to 'Voices from the valley'.

Today we present to you...

This radio station's first female singer- Noor Begum and her first performance.

Singing Azad Shah's golden words: Karsa Myon.

When will my problems be resolved,

oh, my beautiful lover...

When will my problems be resolved,

oh, my beautiful lover...

Wow, Noor Begum. Beautiful.

You heard my song?

- What did you think? - Superb.

Now that you've given birth to Noor, it's your responsibility to protect her.

Let it be.

There's no need for you to do all this.

No work is too small.

Let me do my work.

There's nothing more honourable than that.

- You've been very patient all this time. - You've been working very hard.

Akbar bhai, you seem really happy.

Yes Zeba ji, my salary is 30 rupees.

They said, in 6 months, it'll be 40 rupees.

- Congratulations. - Thank you.

Let's watch a movie at Neelam cinema.

Count me in.

I've said this before. Please, knock before you enter.

Why is my salary 20 rupees and Akbar's 30?

This is not fair.

He must be your senior.

No... He's my junior.

I'm ahead of him both in seniority and experience.

Is that so?

You're that confident?

I'm only speaking the truth.

When a woman speaks the truth, it's confidence...

...when men do, it's called honesty?

If everyone's salaries are equal,

they'll feel equally motivated to work. And it will also be fair.

I'll see what I can do.

Wow, amazing, What a voice.

Listen, I want to meet her now.

Do one thing.

Go to Radio Kashmir right away and bring me information about her.

Yes, Sir. Right away.

She is blessed by the Goddess Saraswati.

You have a very beautiful voice.

Who's your Guru?

I've just started learning. From Ustad Ghulam Nabi ji.

Only a discerning eye can appreciate a jewel.

I've also learnt from him.

I want to compose songs for you.

Not any ordinary songs.

Something different.

Orchestral music.

Your voice has spirituality in it.

C'mon

we've a lot of work to do.

Let's go.

This was bound to happen.

I always knew that the women of Kashmir would bring about change.

No one can stop them from flying high now.

What we're trying to find outside, is right within our hearts.

Lal Ded... She already knew it.

Srinagar's air has a different feel to it.

The air is free.

- Let's go? - Let's go, Aunt.

Shall I drive?

Sure.

Keys?

Whoa, Khala, take it easy.

Come in.

There's no need to knock.

It's your office too.

Sometimes I'm told to knock, Sometimes I'm told not to.

It's so confusing.

Tell me, who is being treated unfairly this time?

Kaul Saheb,

All the musician's names aren't written in the song credits,

neither are they announced. This is wrong.

Everyone needs encouragement.

Only then will they work with dedication.

I'll see...

You'll see?

It'll be done.

This is my aunt.

This is Zeba Akhtar.

She is visiting from Delhi.

Shall we go to the canteen?

What will you have, aunt?

Tea

What about you?

- Kahwa. - Okay.

You know, When I was a kid,

I dreamt of flying aeroplanes.

When my parents came to know, they got me married to a pilot.

They performed their duties.

But since flying was my dream,

the wings should have been mine.

Don't be afraid of anyone.

Just take off.

Wear your own wings and choose your sky yourself.

Please come my beloved, or I will lose my mind

Please come my beloved, or I will lose my mind

My tears will wash the kohl from my gazelle eyes

Wow.

There's harmony in your voice, gravity in your tones...

...and passion in your singing.

Friends, welcome to Voices from the Valley.

Today, we'll be listening to

the powerful voice which is echoing in every corner of Kashmir.

The voice of freedom. The voice of the valley.

From homes to shops.

From gardens to green pastures.

Fragrant, mist, perfume, flowers, rivers, waterfalls, mountains...

If all of them had a voice, it would be this one.

If the soul had a voice, it would be this one.

If prayers had a voice...

It would have been Noor Begum's voice.

Let's go.

Everyone will be ruined.

Taboo activities, listening to songs... It's a trade of poison.

Zeba, let's go.

Everyone wants to know who this Noor Begum is.

Whose voice has now reached the film industry of Bombay.

After her excellent Radio premiere,

everyone is eagerly waiting for her upcoming live concert.

Who is this Noor Begum?

I dissolved just like sugar in the water of love

I dissolved just like sugar in the water of love

Please come my beloved, or else I will lose my mind

Friends...

Put your hands together for our very own Noor Begum.

She sang so beautifully.

You sang really well.

My identity cannot be public. If it's in the papers, that'll be a disaster.

Please do something. Make it stop.

Your freedom lies in your success.

Embrace your success. Accept it.

Look at me.

Are we doing this just to gain praise?

There must be a bigger purpose to all of this.

Listen, an artist shouldn't hide behind their art.

Listeners, on this program, we bring to you new voices from the valley.

Today, we present to you...

...performing Bhan Sahab's song...

Our daughter is everywhere in the newspapers.

Thank you. Thank you.

Where's your daughter?

Or have you sold her?

I've heard some Azad has bought her?

Didn't you already know?

Here, women aren't allowed to sing.

This rascal is a pimp.

Mind your language.

You could've at least thought about your father.

Shameless.

Characterless girl!

Get inside.

Look what they did to him because of you.

We lost all our respect in front of our entire neighbourhood.

You won't go anywhere.

You are not going anywhere.

You'll stay at home.

Everything stops. You won't do anything.

You'll quietly marry whoever we choose for you.

Everything stops.

Everything is over. Understand?

Shameless.

Please, forgive me, Abba.

I'm really sorry.

There's nothing like that.

Please forgive me.

Please look at me once, or else I'll die.

Please eat dinner.

Please eat.

My most precious one, please eat dinner.

C'mon, eat.

She's fair and beautiful.

She'll take care of his kids and she's also so young to him.

I'll go and speak to them myself, Hameeda.

But you know that people don't forgive so easily.

Especially women.

Leave it to God's will.

What's this?

Rista.

Rishta.

Rista.

Roohi was all alone.

After her husband passed away in an accident.

I made up my mind to become a beacon of hope for her.

I wanted my daughter to be independent. To be free.

After all, not everyone is fortunate enough to have someone like Azad Sahab.

Greetings.

I am Azaad.

This is my aunt.

Greetings.

There won't be a better solution than this.

This decision will be good for both of them.

If you don't mind, I'd like us to take this relationship further.

Let me ask my daughter first.

What do have to ask her now?

She's no longer worthy of marrying anyone else anyway.

I hope you're not doing this out of pity.

No, Not at all.

I do want to marry you.

It's love, not a favour.

You'll face many obstacles on life's journey.

But don't you ever lose hope.

Would you like some Kahwa?

- I'll prepare it. - No.

Let me.

If you're not comfortable with it, I'll stop singing on the radio.

We're not you and I anymore,

we're us now.

Aren't you afraid of being shamed?

So what, if you feel afraid,

challenge yourself and keep moving forward.

Whether you fall or not, just keep moving forward.

In the journey of life, some will be stones,

and others will be milestones.

Come with me.

We can't choose our journey,

But we can choose who to make it with.

With the right partner, even obstacles can be fun.

Even today the fragrance of his perfume persists.

He used to come right here in this Zoon-Dab (balcony) to write songs.

It's a very sacred space for me.

Just like a praying area.

The journey was quite difficult.

But he always stood by my side.

Always.

Listen Azad, get out of our neighbourhood.

- What was that? - I'll go take a look.

- Careful. There's glass... - What happened to your foot?

- So much blood. - It's just a small cut.

- What happened? - It's nothing.

Let's go to the hospital. How did this happen?

I didn't see. There was broken glass here.

- What's happening? - It's nothing.

It's nothing, Zeba...

Everything's alright.

How dare you let our women sing? You'll go to hell.

You ruffians... God.

Just ignore them.

Next time, we'll make an omelette and eat it.

Come on.

Come, love.

They're just scared.

What do I tell you, my friend?

How much hardship have I endured.

The poisons of grief that I've swallowed,

The wounds from the arrows that I've endured.

What do I tell you, my friend?

How much hardship have I endured.

It's our duty to tell you. The rest is for you to understand.

- This is against our religion. - What exactly are you scared of?

Zeba's work or her freedom?

We're afraid of a brothel opening up in our respectable locality.

Before I forget my manners, get out.

This locality isn't safe anymore.

It's just for a few days. Then we'll come back.

You are having to leave your own home because of me.

It's all my fault.

Home is not just made of walls.

It's made by people.

Wherever we're together, we're safe.

We can make a home right there.

Come on.

Finally...

We got some space for love in this beautiful valley.

The momentary happiness and peace,

was always marred by pain and grief

The momentary happiness and peace,

was always marred by pain and grief

Like innocent red-blossoms,

that withered away in autumn

Congratulations. Your daughter has made us proud.

She has won our hearts.

Congratulations, Hamida. Your daughter's voice has touched our hearts.

Tomorrow, our daughter is receiving an award.

You'll come, won't you?

- When will you perform next? - Next month, for sure.

- Congratulations. - Thank you.

Everything was arranged so well.

There'll be another show next month. Your name?

Master ji hasn't come?

Actually, he's unwell. So...

My Guru gave me this Tanpura, along with his teaching.

Now, it's your responsibility to take care of it.

Whatever happens,

no matter how hard it gets,

keep singing, my child.

Let's go.

Abba, this is for you.

What was the need for this?

It's not me. Zeba bought this for you.

I'd saved this for you.

It's time for you to open your shop now.

I can't take this from you.

Why not? I'm your daughter.

Now every Eid, I'll wear salwar-kameez stitched by you. Deal?

Deal.

Please visit often.

Of course, Abba.

We'll definitely come.

I'm sorry.

I was wrong.

You have brought us no dishonour, but only respect from everyone.

What's this, Moji?

This...

...gift...

... from mother-in-law for my handsome son-in-law.

Thank you.

Your hard work.

Have a look.

This isn't just hard work.

This is my whole life's earnings.

What happened after that?

I'll tell you the rest of the story tomorrow.

I'll go take a look. Don't go anywhere.

Okay.

Fire, there's a fire.

Where are you going?

The records have caught fire. Let's go.

- What? - Nothing's left.

No, no, no.

Don't go there.

No one could ever find out how the fire started.

All our life's hard work perished in front of my eyes.

All the voices got silenced forever.

And I couldn't do anything about it.

Nothing at all.

All of Azad Saheb's songs,

Bhan ji's music,

is safe only in my memory and in my breath.

They're still alive.

You could record again.

That's what I've been trying to do.

- Ma'am. - Yes.

Oh God, what are these lyrics?

No grammar or punctuation. No proper form of writing.

I can't do this.

Ma'am, ma'am...

Ma'am please come back inside. Don't do this.

- Everyone is... - Don't they get the lyrics checked?

My times aren't so bad that...

...I'll just sing a song out of rubbish.

- Ma'am, please. Listen to me... - Listen to what?

Should I forget all my learning and hard work for one program?

Change the lyrics.

Bring back some etiquette and nuance into the song.

Let me know once it's done. I'll come back to sing.

Yes, ma'am...

Noor ji, then what did Zeba do next? Leave everything?

What did you do?

Please give it another thought.

That's it. I can't do this anymore.

Everything is gone.

All my labour. All of my work...

There's nothing left of it.

I don't want to sing anymore.

But, how can you quit like this? We'll record again...

My name is Haseena.

I'm a fan of your voice.

I want to be a singer just like you.

I'd quit singing because my family was against it.

I read about what happened to you in the papers and it gave me courage.

Now, even I won't stop.

I'm ready to sacrifice anything, just like you.

I had to sneak out of home. Just wanted to meet you.

Can you give me an opportunity?

I was right.

Now, you're not just a singer.

You're a storm.

A revolution...

You're the change, Zeba.

My glass cracked and my vessel has lost its tune.

My glass cracked and my vessel has lost its tune.

Oh, will my beloved accept me despite my imperfections?

You've to fill these forms.

- Is that okay? - Yes.

Feel free to ask questions, if any.

I'm here for you.

Nobody can stop us now.

Our voice will become a powerful one.

What had been my lone struggle, had now become a fight for both of us.

Many girls have started registering.

- Really? - Yes.

Many have even fought with their families to be here.

What's your opinion on burkhas?

Whoever wants to can wear it.

Those who don't, need not.

Just like men wear pants or pajamas- it's their choice.

This is called a tape recorder.

I had been on this long journey, all alone.

But people kept joining in and we formed a caravan.

Madam ready?

Let's welcome with a round of applause,

Kashmir's very own...

...our much loved...

Many years ago,

I had sung a song at Radio Kashmir competition,

which was the start of a new chapter in my life.

At that time, Master ji, who was my Guru

had told me that,

however chaotic the storm may be,

promise me you'll never stop singing.

That's why I am standing here in front of you today,

keeping that promise.

The one who stole my heart, in the cover of darkness,

And left me to face people's ridicule

If he comes back, I will grab the hem of his shirt and plead

If he comes back, I will grab the hem of his shirt and plead

to the one who left me to face people's ridicule

The one who stole my heart, in the cover of darkness...

What happened to your thesis?

Is it done?

I'll submit it as soon as I leave from here.

But I'm a little confused right now.

We value light because of darkness. Isn't it?

Yes.

There's one thing.

If I ever get a chance...

...and if I'm lucky enough,

I'd like to recreate your songs.

Do I have your permission?

I had come to Kashmir in search of Noor Begum's story.

I wanted the whole world to know it.

But in that process, I ended up finding my own story.

I couldn't finish my thesis,

but I did find my purpose in life.

At the start of her career, Noor ji had sung many beautiful songs.

But today, there are hardly any of those recordings left.

Some got destroyed in the fire, while,

some got drowned in the 2014 floods...

No one tried to safeguard her creations.

Why would anyone?

After all, I was destined to do that.

To recreate her songs...

...and give them a new life.

Even give them a proper platform,

was necessary.

And often we need a voice to revive a song.

Suraiya Noor.

- Greetings. - Greetings.

Today, I will be singing my grandmother's song.

This is our small attempt.

We hope you like it.