Hassan: musician with a heart of gold
A FEW weeks ago, Ramesh Hassan called me to seek assistance with his plans to hold a comeback show in Joburg to raise funds for a hospital he was associated with.
He started his call as he did every time we met or spoke to each other on the phone (somewhat embarrassing for me) – expressing his gratitude for having boosted his career during my time as manager of Radio Lotus, through a roadshow across the country and at Sun City in the early 1990s with the song that made him the toast of every Indian household – My wife caught me talking to another girl.
Little could I have known we would lose, just a fortnight later, a man who had not only a unique voice but also a unique style of composing songs that reflected the lifestyle of the South African Indian community, interspersing English, Hindi, Tamil and even isiZulu in his lyrics.
Much will be said and written about this part of his life in the coming weeks, but I will remember Hassan more for the many stories he regaled us with, shared during the thousands of kilometres we travelled together during tours. One of them was, somewhat uncharacteristically, related to the Pope.
Like almost all South African Indian musicians, Hassan could not afford to depend financially on his performances alone. He also had business interests. But, as he said, he was bankrupted by the Pope at one stage, albeit indirectly.
More than a million people from across southern Africa had been expected to flock to Lesotho in 1988 for a visit by the Pope. Seeing an opportunity, Hassan had several thousand Basotho blankets made bearing the image of the Pope, all ready to sell.
“But the Pope’s visit was dogged by political unrest and bad weather, resulting in less than 1 000 people showing up, and I had to literally give most of those blankets away, which made me bankrupt,” I recall Hassan’s words, as he laughed, cautioned us about never counting our chickens before they hatch.
Two questions which he inevitably faced from fans was why he had a Hindi name and a Muslim surname. The answer, as he explained, was quite simple – his father had registered his birth as Hassan Saib, in line with the family surname, but when he took to the stage, he felt he had to reflect the different cultures he was singing about.
Once, when he and I were with the late legendary poet and lyricist Safee Siddiqui, with whom he often collaborated for his songs, Hassan jokingly told us he had originally wanted to take the name Ramesh Nadas Hassan, but thought it might be too long for newspaper headlines when they uncovered his colourful exploits.
Hassan did indeed make those headlines, over and over, and in his humility, always claimed his success was only because he had been lucky enough to be with the right people at the right time.
I consider myself to be the lucky one. If I was one of those people who fell into his path, I am grateful I was sent there by a Higher Power – the same power that decided He needed Hassan Saib, alias Ramesh Hassan, more than the rest of His creation.
RIP, my dear friend!