In Memory of Junaid Jamshed
- The Aleph Review
- 21 hours ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 8 hours ago
A Life of Friendship, Faith, and Fana
Salman Ahmad Famed musician and activist Salman Ahmad retraces his bond with Junaid Jamshed, another icon, nine years after a plane crash took his life. The third of September would have been the 61st birthday of my brother in music and spirit, Junaid Jamshed. Nearly nine years since that shattering December 2016 plane crash stole him from us, his voice, laughter, and unyielding light still pulse through Pakistan’s soul. Junaid was never just a pop icon or humanitarian; he embodied a purposeful life—a tapestry woven with friendship, faith, musical family, and the Sufi essence of fana, the mystical ecstasy where the self dissolves into the divine. His journey—radiant with courage and transformation—reveals what it means to live boldly, evolve unapologetically, and turn passion into collective uplift.
I first met Junaid nearly four decades ago, under the suffocating shadow of General Zia-ul-Haq’s dictatorship. Tall, fair, carrying a Waheed Murad-like ‘Ko Ko Korina’ charisma, he was an oasis in Lahore’s cultural desert. We were among the few college students daring to chase music amid oppression. Kindred spirits, we bonded over melodies, cricket, spirituality, and a fierce junoon for Pakistan. Back then, I couldn’t name what made him extraordinary. Now I know: in a world peddling pretense, Junaid was authentic—generous, alive with purpose. Our friendship was forged in the crucible of creativity, birthing the band Vital Signs in the late 1980s.
The original lineup—Junaid Jamshed (lead vocals), Rohail Hyatt (keyboards, digital programming), Shahzad ‘Shahi’ Hasan (bass), and myself (guitars)—poured dreams into sound at Mansoor Bokhari’s legendary EMI Studios in Karachi. Our engineer, Iqbal Asif, a wizard at the mixing desk, and Arshad Mahmud, a walking encyclopedia of musical nuance, guided us rookies. Our mentor and producer Shoaib Mansoor, a cultural force in his own right, pushed us beyond our comfort zones—even casting us in his PTV play Dhundley Raastey. Acting wasn’t our forte, but between takes a cricket bat would appear, turning the set into a playground. Junaid, ever the heart, chased boundaries with the same fervour he brought to vocals. Shoaib’s wit and smile indulged our antics, stitching irreverence into our brotherhood and making rehearsals rituals of joy.
Vital Signs’ debut album was nothing short of a revolution. Our anthem of unity sprang from a yearning to heal a fractured nation. Junaid’s voice—brimming with hope, vulnerability, and heart—electrified Shoaib Mansoor’s words. From there, long days bled into restless nights, birthing classics like ‘Do Pal Ka Jeevan’, ‘Pyar’ and the rock-ghazal ‘Yeh Shaam.’ Fame and fortune followed, but our bond transcended the spotlight. Junaid was our beating heart—adept at pop’s highs and melancholy’s depths. The world saw a star; I saw my friend: humble, humorous, and fiercely dedicated. At concerts, girls chased him for his autograph, sparking playful rivalries.
Offstage, we sparred endlessly—his domain was Islamic history, mine was classic rock, leading to self-discovery in the process. As our paths diverged—I formed Junoon with Ali Azmat and Nusrat Hussain, later joined by Brian O’Connell, while JJ explored new horizons—our musical family endured. Jam sessions became sanctuaries: golden Karachi sunsets, guitars in our laps, singing unfinished songs with Iqbal’s lyrics, elevating each other toward khudi. There was no rivalry, only growth. A cherished memory is our trip to China with Ali and Brian—playing for wide-eyed audiences, learning from nomads and travelers, weaving experiences into our art, affirming that music is a universal tongue.
Jam sessions became sanctuaries: golden Karachi sunsets, guitars in our laps, singing unfinished songs with Iqbal’s lyrics, elevating each other toward khudi.
Junaid’s life was a symphony of transformation, guided by faith toward fana. Fame never dimmed his quest for meaning; it propelled him deeper. Confounding critics, he embraced Islam with conviction. Far from retreating, he expanded—uplifting the vulnerable through charities, serving rural mothers and children beyond the reach of pop anthems. He built hospitals for maternal health, pioneered mosque-school partnerships to educate children, and restored dignity to forgotten communities. His faith-fueled empathy turned service into sacred duty.
In 2002, Junaid launched J. (Jay Dot), blending Pakistan’s textile heritage with modern flair. From boutique to global brand, he made the shalwar kameez a symbol of style worldwide. He never rested; he innovated and inspired.
Music reunited us in 2013 with Naya Pakistan, my composition for renewal echoing Imran Khan’s vision. Junaid and I sang together at Shahi’s studio alongside Nusrat Hussain—reliving our past, cautiously hopeful for the future. That collaboration remains a pinnacle of our shared journey.
Junaid faced the paradox of Pakistan’s love-hate relationship with its icons. Branded reactionary, hypocrite, even blasphemer, he withstood misinterpretations and words attributed to him that he had never spoken. Yet he transcended with grace, issuing apologies when needed, focusing instead on tangible good. His struggles reflected Pakistan’s contradictions—modernity and tradition coexisting uneasily. Despite vitriol from the media, rivals, and elites, he persisted: fighting ignorance, steering youth away from extremism, and reviving national morale with the final Vital-Junoon anthem ‘Chand Sitara’.
Days before his fateful Chitral flight, we spoke. He was optimistic, urging collaboration—joining me to spread polio awareness and planning a U.S. Junoon reunion with Ali Azmat. Quoting the Beatles, he laughed: “Life is very short and there’s no time for fussing and fighting, my friend.” En route to New York, news of the crash struck me: I was like Rumi mourning Shams-e-Tabrez. Yet, as Rumi also reminds us: “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
Bulleh Shah’s Bullah Ki Jaana Main Kaun captures the mystery of evolution. Junaid embodied that mystery—multidimensional, alive. At just 52, he had lived many lifetimes: artist, entrepreneur, activist, spiritual guide, touching millions. His passing taught me life’s brevity: that we must harness our talents in service of a higher purpose. Junaid embodied fana—surrendering the self to the greater good, finding ecstasy in service. Unbowed by ridicule, he followed his heart. As dusk falls on September 3, I mourn the loss but celebrate the legacy: mischievous eyes, breathtaking voice, and unwavering belief in an enlightened Pakistan. Our friendship—a melody stretching from raucous studios to the silence of prayer—echoes still in anthems, in dreams, in lives uplifted.
Barhti rahey yeh roshni, chalta rahey yeh karavan. Dil Dil Pakistan, Jaan Jaan Pakistan.
Happy Birthday, JJ.
Dr Salman Ahmad Is a Pakistani- American physician, film maker, humanitarian & musician. Salman Founded South Asia’s biggest rock band, Junoon. He has been a U.N. goodwill ambassador— HIV/AIDS , COVID-19, Polio Eradication. Along with his wife, Dr Samina, Salman founded SSGWI www.ssgwi.org which provides interfaith dialogue , education to girls , homes to the homeless , peace and rehabilitation. He is author of the book , Rock & Roll Jihad (Simon & Schuster).