Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
Songs of Paradise: A voice that transcends narrative
Inspired by the life of Raj Begum, Kashmir’s first female singer on Radio Kashmir, Songs of Paradise hums like a dream – fragile, haunting, and steeped in longing. Directed by Danish Renzu, the film reimagines her journey through the character of Zeba, also known as Noor Begum, portrayed with piercing authenticity by Saba Azad, and in later years by Soni Razdan. This is not a conventional biopic but a luminous, poetic tribute — a fictionalized account that captures the emotional truth of a woman whose voice rose from a conservative and politically volatile valley and reached the heavens. Noor’s singing transcends narrative; it becomes an element of nature itself. Her voice is the voice of the towering mountains, the open skies, the rushing streams, and the lush valleys. Embodying both peace and desire, longing and prayer.
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Framing Kashmir’s soul
The film’s visual artistry draws you in: shikaras gliding on the shimmering Dal Lake, three young women in festive attire singing at their friend’s wedding, their eyes glittering like diamonds reflected on the water. We glimpse Zeba’s one-room home, up a narrow flight of stairs, with a flowerpot drawn on a brick wall — a modest bloom of hope amidst hardship. In the dimly lit kitchenette, Zeba mischievously cooks the photograph of a “potential groom” in a pot of stew.
Cinematographer Vincenzo Condorelli captures Kashmir as a living soul: snow-dusted Himalayas, saffron-scented air, alleyways perfumed with kahwa and rogan josh. Every frame feels like a prayer.
The men beneath her wings
Zeba’s bond with her father, an uneducated tailor with a liberal heart, forms the emotional core of the film. Their scenes together by his sewing machine, quiet and affectionate, are filled with an unspoken understanding. He believes in Zeba’s innate talent even when others do not, and his quiet faith becomes her North Star.
Her Ustadji (Shishir Sharma), gentle yet discerning, recognizes the divinity in her voice and persuades her to enter a local singing contest. That performance becomes one of the film’s most arresting sequences.
Dressed in a simple pink and violet Kashmiri salwar kameez, a biscuit-colored hijab perched on her head, a stud glinting in her nose, and delicate hoops in her ears, Zeba looks like a schoolgirl — uncertain, seeking her teacher’s approval. She begins to sing “Dil Tsooran Hai,” the song that first wins her recognition.
Zeba is awarded a trophy and a contract to sing for Radio Kashmir, where she meets Mr. Kaul (Suhail Nathani), the skeptical producer who doubts that a young Muslim woman will endure the pressures of public life. But her voice silences every hesitation — and gives her wings. Panditji (played by Renzu himself), a composer overwhelmed by her gift, creates rich orchestral arrangements that amplify the purity of her tone.
Zeba performs live at Tagore Theatre, but her photograph in the local newspaper brings her family shame — until she is rescued from the scandal by poet Azad (Zain Khan Durrani), who asks for her hand in marriage. Poet Azad writes verses that her singing transforms into devotion. His words and her melody together feel like a companionship touched by destiny.
Music & poetry
The film’s musical magic deepens with the Sufi-inflected Karsa Myon, and many Kashmiri folk songs beautifully sung by Zeba (playback singer Masrat Un Nissa), layered with longing and spiritual surrender.
Azad’s poetry merges with her music, and the scene by Dal Lake, where she sings a verse composed by her husband, becomes an invocation.
On a personal note, redemption arrives quietly. Zeba returns home with a new sewing machine for her father — a gesture of love, dignity, and self-worth. Her mother (Sheeba Chaddha), contrite, whispers, “I was wrong. You have only brought us respect.” She even gifts her “handsome” son-in-law a token of affection — a reconciliation so tender it feels like a breath of spring.
Saba Azad embodies Zeba
Songs of Paradise does not shy away from conflict or pain. Zeba faces her community’s judgment and bears the brunt of an ultimate heartbreak — her entire archive of recordings destroyed in a fire. When she stands frozen before the flames, her face illuminated by loss, Saba Azad’s cries pierce the skies. Then she falls silent. Unable, or unwilling, to sing again.
Saba Azad’s performance is the heartbeat of this film. She inhabits Noor with an open, luminous face, an authentic Kashmiri accent, and questioning eyes that hold both courage and generosity. Whether demanding equal pay, sharing her food with her colleagues, falling into Azad’s arms when he is wounded, or seeking higher verse to lend her voice meaning, Azad delivers each moment with a quiet ferocity. When she sings, the valley itself seems to hold its breath.
An enduring inspiration
Unaware of her growing influence, Zeba inspires a generation of Kashmiri girls to sing — they come to her door, their voices opening with hope, asking to sing her songs. In that moment, her voice echoing against the mountains, Noor’s voice was not hers alone. It belonged to every woman who ever sang her heart out.
Produced by Ritesh Sidhwani, Farhan Akhtar, Shafat Qazi, and Danish Renzu, Songs of Paradise is streaming on Amazon Prime.