SONG INTERRUPTED

Continued. Begun in the previous issue

Especially Masma - the daughter of a bureaucrat who was confident of her irresistibility: she had a strong character which did not allow her to go unnoticed and she dressed not just to follow the latest fashion, or extravagantly, but also to be at the centre of attention all the time. She was almost certain that global celebrity awaited her and was even ready to cancel her engagement for the third time just to become the artist's wife. Ceyran was her classmate, but viewed these things politely and kept her distance. Although she was considered a beauty, she did not care much for this fuss about celebrity. She did not think then either of marriage or love. She just studied carefully and diligently as the youngest and the favourite child in an international family. At 18, Ceyran was tall and very thin. As she entered the Medical University, her mother took her to a well-known tailor in town by the name of Ivanov and ordered her daughter's first "adult" coat. He looked at the slim girl, sighed and hinted delicately that it would be good to put extra layers on the chest. Ceyran looked shyly away, but her mother quickly agreed and, by autumn, she was sporting a fashionable new coat. Thanks to the tailor, she no longer seemed so thin and attracted attention not only from her peers but also from adult women who looked upon her as a bride to be married off, wondering if this girl could make a good match for their sons. In this very yard, a woman of her mother's age cast a friendly and affectionate look at Ceyran. But did the girl pay any attention to this? Of course not! It was only in December that she understood the importance of those glances. Meanwhile, it was a cold November and she came down with flu. Masma had to run to lectures across the yard by herself for two weeks. And when Ceyran recovered and walked again through the courtyard of the artists' house together with Masma, she saw Behbudov raise his hands on seeing them from above, as if he was thanking heaven for something. Masma, of course, immediately thought that he was looking at her and said she was ready to take decisive action. The next day, as the girls missed the trolley bus and took the usual route at a leisurely pace and chatting, Ceyran was amazed that the same friendly woman stood up from the bench to meet her and, introducing herself as the mother of the composer Fikrat Amirov, pointed to the balcony where a young woman stood holding a child: "You see, my daughter, that woman with a child? That is my daughter-in-law. Nothing bad awaits you in our house. We just want to get acquainted with you, so we invite you to have a cup of tea. Please, come with me to our home, do not hurt us by a refusal." Ceyran did not want to go to a stranger's house, but the woman insisted, and she did not want to offend her. 

Reluctantly, she went to the woman's apartment and, through the open door of a room, saw a table laid. Immediately she felt uncomfortable: what if it is someone's birthday and she has come empty-handed? Durdana xanum, the mother of Fikrat Amirov, wondered about the girl's family, and on hearing that she was the daughter of Balabay, she lifted her hands. It turned out that Ceyran's father was a close friend of Durdana Amirova's brother. You should have seen how delighted the woman was with this circumstance! As soon as they started to talk about it, the front door swung open and Rasid Behbudov dashed quickly into the room. He looked perfect: brilliantined hair, a light overcoat thrown over his shoulders, shoes of the latest fashion! Ceyran, having taken off her coat, did not get a chance to really understand what was going on as he threw his gorgeous coat on the floor and took Durdana xanum in his hands, whirling her around the room. Laughing joyfully, he kept saying how happy he was that she had prepared such a gift for him. It turned out that this day - 14 December - was Behbudov's birthday. And later he would tell his young wife that when he saw her among her fellow students for the first time, he had made a wish: if they met on his birthday, this was his destiny. And they would be happy. Durdana xanum, of course, did not know about that. She had simply noticed Rasid's attention to this girl and decided to give him a surprise. Therefore, the table was laid for him: after all, Beybudov had no relatives here. Her son Fikrat and he were good friends, which is why she took a mother's care of him, too. Later, when Rasid and Ceyran were married, he joked that he had discovered for the first time the wonders of tailoring which could create masterpieces of optical illusion with the help of outerwear. In Ivanov's coat, the girlish figure had a more seductive form! But nothing could hide those marvellous eyes and wonderful ashen hair!

Praise to your beauty, Ceyran!

I'll bring life to you, Ceyran!

The ingenuous words of that popular folk songs reflected the depth of his feelings for his young wife, whom he called affectionately "my little one" all his life. She really was a child: pure, na?ve and trusting! But it was she who was able to give him a feeling of happiness and a reliable hearth, which gave meaning to all his endeavours. He bought a camera to photograph her and would often arrange photo shoots, asking her to pose before the lens in a particular manner. For example, putting all the flowers in the house at the feet of his beloved or giving a bizarre shape to her long hair, or against a background of the city... In short, he was talented in everything. He could have become a photo artist if he had not been a singer. In any case, he could also have been a director, actor and, perhaps - a designer, as is now customary to say. Many of his talents would emerge later, when, on orders from Heydar Aliyev, he would be given a building to open the Song Theatre. There he would be not only soloist and artistic director, but also filmmaker and designer of decoration and costumes! He was a man of progressive views and was very interested in every novelty in theatrical equipment. Thus, as soon as European theatres began to use lighting effects and screens (Laterna Magica) by the Czech Josef Svoboda, the Baku Theatre immediately installed these screens, which gave a certain chic to productions, expanding the artistic and aesthetic impact on the viewer. He was wise and in love: with life, art, profession, his family, friends and the land, country and anthem which he sang all his life in all the 100 countries where he gave concerts. A Soviet artist from the small republic of Azerbaijan multiplied the glory of his fatherland, pushing its boundaries to the limits of a geographical concept - the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Being a deputy of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR for over 25 years, he did not even know he was entitled to discount travel vouchers to Soviet resorts. So, he spent his summer holidays, if possible, mostly on the balcony of his house, overcoming the heat with hot tea. He had a piece of land on which he did not even have time to build a normal home, even a summer house. But he liked to visit it with friends, organizing barbecues and parties - a traditional way of communicating in Baku: not to eat, but to enjoy the company and listen to each other! This tradition is becoming a thing of the past. The world is becoming more pragmatic. Alas.

Third song. Rasida.

An old photo shows Rasid Behbudov with a child in his arms and surrounded by his relatives. His beautiful wife is next to him. The photographer captured them right on the steps of the maternity hospital. He was so happy! Here is the meaning of life! Only harmonious unity with the world can give a person so much power and inexhaustible energy. Only accord with his own conscience can give him a feeling of total happiness and serenity. He raised her, treating her as a fragile exotic flower. Without suppressing her with paternal authority, he could be her closest confidant, in whom she, a schoolgirl, confided all her secrets, even children's love, and he discussed every situation with her very thoughtfully and seriously, as if it was of paramount importance. Rasid was always a good listener. Therefore, he attracted strangers, voters, artists from his theatre and friends. He was loved by plants, birds, animals and children. A canary named Kenar lived in his house for many years. His stunning trills livened up the house, giving a feeling of unity with nature. They say that birds have no brain function. They do not know how to think. Perhaps, from a scientific point of view, that is true. But not everything can be analyzed. Kenar lived in Behbudov's house so long that his little yellow feathers turned pale and began to resemble grey hair. Between the canary and the owner of the house, there was some kind of ultimate relationship. The bird was attached to him as much as he was to Kenar. Rasid was wont to sing at home. Once he began, Kenar followed with his trills. One day, his little body was found lifeless near a bowl of water. Everyone was upset! Rasid took the body in his hands and blew into the bird's beak, and then he took a pipette, pouring water into Kenar's mouth drop by drop. The bird fluttered - and to the great delight of all, returned to life. There were many such cases, so at some point little Rasida believed that her daddy was a magician and could do everything. As is often the case, the child's belief in miracles quietly developed into confidence, and the girl, after growing up, always knew that her father could do everything! He was so caring and created a sense that the world around was perfect and beautiful and that her father - Rasid Behbudov - was just as perfect and beautiful, and when he died, she was very confused. The world stopped emitting colours and lost its light, being covered with a grey veil of irreplaceable loss. Her little son, named in honour of his grandfather, barely remembered the warmth of his hands as he was no more. Everything seemed monstrously unfair and frightening. It seemed that justice, which had always existed everywhere and in everything, left her world of fairy tales together with her father. She did not understand for a very long time how could one live without him. Without his songs? Without his kind smile and tender glance? Will he not come into the room and sit down at the microphone, as he did recently? Will he not return home after another tour to a faraway country and bring gifts for all his employees and artists like a good magician? Will he not lay the table in his office after lengthy run-through rehearsals, because people are tired and will not get home any time soon? She still cannot accept it. And only the song which her daddy sang from many concert halls of the world for his wonder-girl, who was waiting for him at home with her mother, sounded like a reminder:

Sleep, my darling, sweetly, 

No, do not worry, I'm with you!

In the morning the golden sun 

Will rise over your bed!

Do you hear in the distance: bye-bye? 

There are rivers, there are birds

There are stars whispering over you ... bye-bye, bye-bye.

The voice, saved on disc which survived thanks to the efforts of Rasida's husband - Kamil Sahverdiyev, caresses and soothes. Golden voice. The unique voice of his soul and his boundless love. And each of his songs is a little drama: someone's fate, nature, life... He was a unique and versatile artist. He sang in the opera, acted in films and gave his life to the nascent genre of pop songs. But as a real creator, he wanted new heights and horizons and so he created a theatre where he elevated song to the level of art, proving in practice that the possibilities for a pop artist can be limited only by his own laziness. Therefore, his theatre set up a great music ensemble, with original instruments that the maestro had brought from different countries - a corps de ballet for which ballet school graduates of the same height were selected... It was the first theatre of its kind in the Soviet Union and many famous singers, including Alla Pugacheva, envied the opportunities that Behbudov had, due to the understanding and support of Heydar Aliyev. Rasida was eager to continue her father's work, hoping to become an artistic director - not for the sake of self-promotion, but in order to preserve and continue what he had started. This was her filial duty. There is power, there are ideas and there is desire. This is, perhaps, natural. We know a great many such examples. But so far only her own memory and countless photos in the family archives keep a chronology of events from the time he became an artist to the new genre founded by Rasid Behbudov. Countless photographs - silent but eloquent witnesses of the fame and popularity of the Azerbaijani artist, together with Galina Ulanova, Maya Plisetskaya, Igor Moiseyev, Nikolay Cherkasov, Van Cliburn, Sergey Mikhalkov, Raj Kapoor, Jawaharlal Nehru, Indira Gandhi, Svyatoslav Richter, Chingiz Aytmatov, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, and even Emperor Haile Selassie who, in Addis Ababa, presented the Azerbaijani singer with a valuable gift and a gold medal for his song "Almas". Did any other of our artists of the time have such worldwide fame? Was this love of the audience, including in his native land? He loved his audience sincerely. He gave them all his soul and talent. Thus he travelled throughout the country with his theatre. Promising Heydar Aliyev to give concerts even in the smallest mountain villages, he kept his word. He, a native of Susa, was unafraid of the mountains. Especially as he had experience of singing in the mountains of Chile, where the rarefied air made him use an oxygen mask. So would he be afraid of his native mountains? He was a son of his nation - its salt and its glory. He was always where he was needed and expected. He served his people faithfully and loyally. What is left?

Interrupted song

Everyone remembers the events of 1989. Rasid Behbudov fell seriously ill after a really major incident with Gorbachev. As a deputy, he strongly opposed the dispatch of tanks to Baku, the redistribution of territories, and warned against any hasty decisions which threatened to end in bloodshed. They did not listen to him. Having returned from Moscow, he, a healthy man who had only recently undergone a complete examination, suddenly fell seriously ill. However, preparing a new programme for the opening of the theatre after an overhaul, he would not leave rehearsals. Sitting at the microphone in the hall, he could not get up on stage, because he was not feeling very well, due to a fever. So he sang a Turkish song from his director's seat. He sang it as never before. This was the last rehearsal of his life. He was planning to continue work on this song, because he was not satisfied with his performance.

He had to go to Moscow - this time to the Kremlin Hospital to see leading specialists - specialists who failed to save his life. People in white coats performed wonders of cruelty and the living legend was no more. He died at dawn, at 0410. His wife was told that his condition was stable and that, generally speaking, he was not so bad. At 0800, the morning shift reported with cold perplexity that he had died nearly four hours before. Then why was wife not allowed into the ward? There are still too many questions and pain. No answer. This legend of the 20th century never sang his last song to the end. It was interrupted - indifferently and rudely.

What is left?

A street named after him, a music school, a ship, the pain and tears of relatives and ... a theatre - his brainchild and life. But his voice can no longer be heard there...