A trailblazing thespian and an all-round performer, Zia Mohyeddin’s death has left an intellectual vacuum in the world of performing arts

The name, Zia Mohyeddin, might have one literal meaning, but he was a multitalented man of many colours and facets. He was like a tall tree with many stronger branches and under the shadow of which many intellectuals, actors and prolific personalities grew.

It is not an easy task to describe Zia Mohyeddin. Not at all. Which facet would one describe? Zia as a friend, colleague, thespian, teacher, actor, mentor, orator, director, or a writer?

Having had a voice that touched many hearts and eyes holding many stories, the wrinkles on his face reflecting not only his age but also oozing his profound experience of decades. His friendly gesture earned him many fans and friends, while his unmatchable prowess on stage and screen helped him stand out of the crowd of other performers. Zia Mohyeddin passed away on February 13 and his sudden death sent shock waves all across the world of culture and entertainment.

People knew that there was only one Zia Mohyeddin who was the only player in the ring. A force to be reckoned with, he won not only fame and recognition but respect and love from around the world. From old-age people to youngsters, he was equally famous among all.

“Zia Mohyeddin was an outstanding actor and a consummate theatrical specialist. Other than his proven artistic credentials, he was also widely acknowledged as a writer and essayist who mostly covered his lifelong journey, reflecting on his childhood and youth as well as highlighting the works of literature and music, especially South Asian music. Zia Mohyeddin wrote with great insight and exceptional sensitivity, which helped him earn a multi-dimensional fame. He was known for his felicity in writing with special sense of nuances, added another dimension to his already diverse multi-pronged cultural sensitivity. It was indeed a privilege to work closely with him,” says Javed Jabbar, Pakistan’s leading writer and politician.

“Almost 40 years of my association with Zia Mohyeddin has sadly come to an end. I learnt so much from him about theatrics and Urdu literature, which helped me a lot in achieving perfection. However, his mentoring will never end because each of his recorded performances will serve as a lesson for all practitioners, performers and future thespians,” according to Arshad Mehmood, a seasoned actor and music composer.

Junaid Zuberi, the CEO of the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPA), shared his thoughts while remembering Zia Mohyeddin. He said, “The death of Zia Mohyeddin has left an intellectual vacuum in his wake. He literally belonged to a bygone world ruled by intellect, wit and wisdom and professed these values across his artistic journey, which are otherwise rare and almost extinct. His quintessential brilliance and perfection set a standard to be followed by others. He was larger than life, yet humble to the core. He was a very private person, introverted from head to heels and preferred to spend his time in reading, writing and reflecting. I am fortunate to have spent many precious moments in his company. I was always embarrassed when he would come to my office to talk to me. I always requested him to call me instead but he liked visiting my office. He had a vast repertoire of amusing anecdotes and stories that he often shared. I will always remember him with great fondness and reverence. I hope people realise the fact that he was such a towering powerhouse of wisdom, knowledge and intellect and how big his death affected all of us.”

According to Junaid Zuberi, the world of performing arts has lost one of its most amazing thespians. From Pakistan to London and across the world, Zia Mohyeddin reigned supreme both on stage and on screen.”

“It is impossible to do justice to his lifelong work and contributions to the theatre, culture and art scene by merely putting them down on paper or by writing about them. But one thing is for sure – he touched a million lives and did what very few are able to do,” Zuberi added.

“I remember when I was on a flight to Karachi, Zia Mohyeddin was also travelling on the same flight. Those days I had just started working on my first book and was going to Karachi, especially for that purpose. My dad was with me and nudged me to approach him as he was someone without whom the book would not be complete. I went over to his seat, and he gave me his office number and I was able to see him the very next day.

As I went into his office in the old, decaying building of the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPA), he stood up to greet me with the warmest smile and asked how I wanted to photograph him. I was obviously intimidated by being asked to ‘direct’ him, so I asked him for suggestions but he gently refused and said that I was the boss there. We started off by having him read some poetry for the camera.

Slowly I realised that he was the last living actor in my favourite film, Lawrence of Arabia. For a photo, I asked him to re-enact the role he played in the film and his face seamlessly changed into the expression of Tafas, the guide of Lawrence, as he portrayed the harsh desert surroundings and the horror of seeing Sherif Ali from afar (Omar Sharif’s character). It truly felt like the very scene had transported itself here in that small office through augmented reality. If he was such a force to be reckoned with onstage, it is no wonder that he did this so beautifully and took me into a different time and place.

This experience best described Zia Mohyeddin to me- the power of his prose, and his generosity. May he rest in peace, and may his family and friends find the patience to bear with this loss.”

As Gene D. Phillips, an American author, writes in his book ‘Beyond the Epic: The Life and Films of David Lean,’ he explained how desperately Lean wanted Zia to be cast in his film Lawrence of Arabia. He further explains that Lean wanted his old buddies to be around him as he had not made films in several years. “When it came to filling the part of Aziz, the male lead, there was no question in Lean’s mind that the actor must be Indian. Zia Mohyeddin had created the role of Dr Aziz on the London stage in Rau’s play, and Lean had cast him in Lawrence’s guide in Lawrence. He considered Mohyeddin for Aziz, but by 1983, the actor was simply too old.”

Zia Mohyeddin was a charismatic teacher who would bring the subjects to life. Being selected as his student was one of the acievements for students. Ansaar Mahar reminiscence his time at NAPA with his great teacher. “During my auditions I forgot my lines as I was performing in front of the living legend, Zia Sahab. He had a smile on his face. I do not know if I could impress him or not, but I got selected.”

“He was punctual and always valued time. Our diction class would start at 3pm and he would always be on time. He was kind and really helpful, unlike most of the teachers today. He would not get tired of explaining even we asked him ten times. Students would desperately wait to enter their third year as Sir Zia used to teach acting himself in the second trimester of third year. He used to act for us to teach us how to act and believe me, the way he would act would give life to the character even when he performed Romeo, it seemed as if he is the real Romeo who is screaming in the love of Juliet.”

There is no doubt that Zia Mohyeddin was a perfectionist and he had a love for Urdu language. Ansaar further shared that he was a truly devoted and a passionate person. His love for theatre was to a level of madness. “Even at his funeral, Mr Akbar Islam (one of our teachers) told us that he kept repeating that NAPA should stay and live.” Ansaar’s voice shakes while he remembers his teacher.

“He was very popular among students. When his car would arrive, students would wave at him and he would smile and wake back at us. His entry in the institute was like of a film star around who fans would gather and get excited to interact. Even when I went to NAPA today, I felt that he will be arriving anytime soon. But, this is so unfortunate that he will not be among us anymore.”

Zia Mohyeddin was a renowned orator. The way he would sprinkle words and use expressions seemed to be like a magician casting a spell. His voice throw was so intense and powerful that it would leave an impact on the listeners. He was a friend of friends, a strong-headed person who had his goals and thoughts clear, not only to him but to the ones he wanted to welcome in his clan.

Rahat Kazmi, a veteran TV and film actor, said that he had met Zia a very long time ago. “By that time, we had not started working together. But one day Zia came to my house and said, “Rahat! We have founded NAPA here.” I congratulated him. He asked me to work at NAPA and how could I say no to Zia? I agreed and the rest is history.”

He went on to explain that in those 18 years, there were many plays that Zia directed and many in which he assisted him. “He was a very dedicated professional and a perfectionist with no compromise on professionalism. He was also a classist. He was not forthcoming and easy as most of the people are because he was so utterly involved in his profession that he never cared to talk about his personal life or anybody else’s life.”

“I would say that if we did not know Ghalib in Urdu how would we know Ghalib? It is his poetry and his work that we know. Zia Mohyeddin would always say that it is not the life that is important, it is the work that lives on. He stood for classism and should be known as a man par excellence. The working relationship was so strong and deep that I cannot easily describe.” Rahat takes pauses while sharing his memories.

Ahmed Shah, President of the Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi, told BOLD that his relationship with Zia Mohyeddin was precious and deep. “Many people would claim that they knew Zia better or knew him closely. However, he was open to me would speak his heart out in my presence. From his childhood to his youth, I knew everything about him. He would often call me to his house and we would talk for hours sometimes without keeping a track of time. He told me how his handwriting and Urdu improved and how his father sent him to a strict Urdu teacher who would make him write on a wooden board. Hence, he was a legend but also a normal human being. He was an introvert and kept a distance from people because he did not want others to take advantage of his liberty. He was indeed a gem of a person.”

He lamented his death and said that Zia had a session in the recently concluded festival of the Arts Council in Lahore and they both had so many plans for the forthcoming sessions in the US. “He called me and apologised that he could not attend the session in Lahore as Chunno (Zia’s wife) was taking him to the hospital. He was a thorough professional, a gentleman and a man of his words. We had a warmth in our relationship and the way he would praise me and my work is worth-mentioning.

“When there were no indoor theatres and open-air theatres in Pakistan, I was still heading the Arts Council and it was my honour that when Zia returned from England he performed his first play under the banner of the Arts Council.”

Ahmed Shah revealed that the people who were deemed expert in the Urdu language were actually humble to admit that they did not actually know Urdu until they met Zia Mohyeddin, and Naseeruddin Shah is one of them. “Zia recited Javed Siddiqui’s Khaka last month at the Arts Council and that was his last recitation. Javed called me at the passing away of Zia and said that it was such a big loss indeed. Zia Mohyeddin had fans and followers from across the world,” he added.

He would often stress over the need to improve one’s Urdu language skills, particularly when it comes to pronunciation such small words like ’Garm,’ ’Narm,’ and ’Sahih.’ He said in his interviews that he never watched television as the TV industry is playing a major role in damaging the Urdu language.

It was his ‘Zia Mohyeddin Show’ on PTV where he called Z.A. Bukhari as a guest and acknowledged that he was indebted to ZA Bukhari for the numerous corrections he had made in his Urdu language skills.

While discussing the life of Zia Mohyeddin, one of my acquaintances informed me that he introduced the word ‘Teyka’. And when he would come on the TV screen, he would say, ‘Toh Phir Lagao Teyka’.”

He also did many voice-overs. I remember that in our childhood we would often switch to PTV Home in the month of Muharram to watch a documentary on Karbala recorded in voice-over by Zia Mohyeddin and it was well articulated and deep that I still remember each word of it and the way he presented it. His voice had kind of a magic that would take one into a trance.

Zia Mohyeddin will live in the air of NAPA, in the plays, he directed, the characters he created, in the excellence of his students, in the echoes of the theatre rooms, and in the eyes of the audience whose eyes might fill with tears remembering him. His eyes are shut, but the path he had paved in serving the arts and theatre will forever be preserving his legacy, he is silent but his voice is rooted deep in the hearts of his fans. He will live through his plays, narrations, stories, poetry and oration, he will live in the memories.

It takes generations to produce an orator like Zia Mohyeddin. An irreparable loss for the generations to come, his passing has left a worrisome void that seems impossible to fill.

As rightly said by Allama Iqbal;

Hazaro saal nargis apni benori pe roti hai,

Bari mushkil se huta hai chaman main dedawar paida

“For a thousand years, the narcissus has been lamenting its blindness; With great difficulty, the one with true vision is born in the garden.”