Lights.
Camera. Silence. Action.
Excuse me, brother. Ma'am. This way. Please look towards the camera.
What an amazing accomplishment, ma'am.
Thank you.
Congratulations on being honored with the Golden Vinyl.
Thank you.
No. Not you.
It won't take more than half an hour.
It's okay. Let them ask their questions.
Once again, congratulations, ma'am.
How does it feel to be the epitome of musical success?
It feels as if…
I've finally reached home, exhausted and spent.
And my mother is at the door, welcoming me.
This is my father's legacy.
And my mother's dream for me.
She has been waiting for this day to come. She must be thrilled to hear this news.
Any plans of getting married in the near future?
There have been rumors linking you to a well-known music composer.
My next film is with Mr. Rai.
Ms. Naseeban is the music composer, Mr. Majrooh is penning the lyrics,
and Mr. Rai's co-producer and wife is the lead actor.
Next question.
Ma'am, the gift of music runs in your family.
Your grandfather was even honored with the great title, Diwan--
No. It was my father,
Pandit Devram Manjushree, who was given that title.
Your mother, Mrs. Urmila,
also came to launch her son as a singer some nine years ago?
No!
She has no son.
I'm her only child.
Just me.
Had your husband been alive,
he would have been so happy to see his daughter.
Ma’am, what are you naming the little doll?
Qala.
-My other baby. -We couldn't pick up on it earlier.
Both their heartbeats were always in sync.
A…
son?
Don't worry, she's fine.
A strong and healthy baby.
It's quite common with twins.
If one of the babies is stronger and healthier,
he or she sometimes absorbs the nutrition meant for the other baby.
So, the weaker child finds it difficult to survive.
My mother asks
Oh, my darling girl
What makes you so wan, so pale?
So what if you are a girl.
You can still be a musical maestro like your father.
You can be trained. You can be as talented as any boy.
But because you are a girl, you will have to work harder.
You will have to be extra careful about your dignity and reputation.
Do you understand what I’m saying?
Of course you don't.
But you will.
The world should address you as a maestro.
And not as a courtesan.
Only then will you truly be successful.
Will you be able to do that?
Are you capable of achieving that kind of success?
Ma'am, your tea is here.
The people from Illustrated Weekly magazine will be here any minute now.
Did my mother call?
No.
You did send the telegram to her, didn't you?
Yes, ma'am.
Did you see today's paper, Mama?
There is a photograph of me with the Prime Minister.
Such an honour. And the Golden Vinyl.
You always wanted it, right?
I knew you'd be happy.
Ma'am, the photographer is ready to shoot.
I have to go now.
I love you too.
Yes, Mama, I am taking care of myself.
Hello.
I'm calling from Mr. Dey's office. This is regarding Ms. Qala's dates…
It's from Mr. Dey's office for my dates.
Please tell him that if his hero insists on singing his own songs in this film too,
my fee should be more than his, even if it's just by a rupee.
Hold it.
Beautiful.
Enough.
-But, ma'am, the magazine needs more-- -Hey.
I think we've got it.
-We'll send you the photos for approval. -Thank you.
By the way, I loved the one you did for Indira last week.
-Oh, thank you. Ta-ta then. -Ta-ta.
Ma'am, I'll return Mr. Majrooh's books and come.
Thief!
Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Displaying my dreams on your walls?
It's mine!
There's no fever at all.
What happened exactly? Do you have any specific symptoms?
No.
No, Doctor, there's nothing physically wrong.
There's…
noise…
here!
And fear…
here!
It's…
It's… It's like…
I've been waiting for something to happen.
And it's happening.
I feel like something inside me is breaking.
I think you need a break.
-Sounds like extreme exhaustion. -Exhaustion? No, Doctor.
There is something wrong with me.
It's nothing. This is something all women tend to have.
Slight hysteria, it's totally normal. You are such a great artist,
and, as we all know, artists are sensitive people.
They take everything to heart.
Overthink things. That's why you are imagining the noise in your head.
Plus, those few days a month for every woman are difficult.
So, why don't you get out of the house, get some fresh air?
Okay.
In that case, send over some sleeping pills for me.
Didn't I send some last month?
-There are only a couple left. -This is not done, Ms. Qala.
Why don't you try sleeping without the pills?
-I suggest you warm some milk and-- -No milk!
She doesn't drink milk.
Okay, fine. Then add some nutmeg to a glass of warm water and--
-Just send the sleeping pills. -Just stop overthinking things.
You're stressing yourself out too much. You are such a phenomenal singer. Sing.
Sorry, Mama.
-I'll sing again. -Set the lute down.
-Mama, please. Let me try once more. -Set it down now.
Brains? Zero. Beauty? Zero.
Zero talent. The least you can do is work hard.
And you can't even do that.
We have to go to Solan the day after tomorrow.
You have to sing in front of the maestro, Mansoor Khan.
You can't even get your basics right, Qala.
Ma, I know it.
Please just listen to it once. Just once, Mama.
Mama, I'm sorry.
Sorry, Mama.
Mama, sorry.
This is the first time
Diwan Manjushree's daughter is going to show her vocal talent.
And for that, such a small crowd?
Gandhi is visiting Shimla, so all the surrounding villages are empty.
They have all gone to see him in hordes.
Besides, this is Hindustani classical music.
Not some gyrating film song that will attract a large crowd.
This music is not for regular ears.
You worry too much. Come. Look at the ones who have come.
Great connoisseurs of music and poetry. The ones who should be here are here.
There is one more singer performing today.
Jagan Batwal. He belongs to Solan, a local boy.
But, sir, today was meant to be Qala's day.
-How can someone else sing? -This boy is an orphan.
He learnt how to sing in the local Sikh temple.
He is getting a chance to sing in front of you.
But if you have an issue with his caste or birth…
No, no.
After all, an artist is not identified by his caste or birth.
And besides, you have decided that he will sing today, so I will listen.
I can't refuse your wish.
Dear father
Dear father, why am I losing
My mother's home?
Dear father
Why am I losing
My mother's home?
Dear father, why am I losing
My mother's home?
Come, child. Sit. Well done. You sang beautifully.
You have your mother's voice. The same sweetness.
How many hours do you practice a day?
-Around eight hours a day. -Eight hours…
I thought you said
no one will come because Gandhi is visiting.
I did say that, but--
Oh, to die like this
Is not an ending my friend
The world doth die every day
Yet does not fade away
Who knows when the end will come
And how death will visit me
If my lord lives in my heart
I will gently fade away
Fade
Fade away
Where do you wander in your search?
His shadow walks with you
Yet you die with every breath
And fall apart more than coming together
Each breath a formless hymn Sung without fear
Heard without hate sung without fear
Each breath a formless hymn Sung without fear
Heard without hate sung without fear
Every protection falls short Of shielding you
Don't worry, the shroud will suffice
What your hands can hold is all you have
The rest the invaders can take away
When you feast on false dreams
Everything turns to ashes
Yet you die with every breath
And fall apart more than coming together
Each breath a formless hymn
Sung without fear
Each breath a formless hymn
Heard without hate
Sung without fear
Urmi.
Why so lost?
-What do you think, sir? -She has a sweetness in her voice.
And this classical form is your family's forte. Your legacy.
No!
I want her to have her father's legacy.
She is not a maestro.
Like…
Like that boy.
They are both good in their own way. She has her kind of talent. And he, his.
Why must you compare the two?
Qala, where are you going? Go get some warm milk for Jagan.
It's really cold here.
More than Solan.
And it snows much more than in Shimla.
I've heard that you also sing?
I missed your performance that day, but your mother told me.
What… What did Mom say?
That you sing too, and that you will accompany me on the lute.
Why have you come?
Who told you to follow me into the cold night?
If you have a fever…
it's not my fault.
Do you always get scared, even before someone blames you?
What do you think you are doing?
He thinks he might have a fever.
Child, lift your arm up a bit.
Slowly.
This has mercury in it. Mercury in a singer's mouth?
He could lose his voice.
Sorry, Mama.
If only you had a genuine connection with music,
then maybe you would have understood what you were doing wrong.
What happened?
Nothing. Everything is okay.
I want you to remember two things.
First, if you keep everything that you feel or think hidden inside,
suppressed till it drowns, a day will come when the dam will burst.
And the second thing?
The word "okay" just means "on kerosene duty".
It doesn't mean that you're fine.
Got it?
-Okay, fine. -My friend.
Where are the lyrics?
Just wait. I've brought an entire compendium.
Yeah, right.
I bet he wrote it in a rickshaw on his way here.
He can write a song in the time that it takes him to smoke a cigarillo.
I'd like to state that speed is no indication of a person's talent,
or the lack thereof. Here's your song.
Let's hear it.
Here you go.
-From here? -Yes, my love.
Sudha, dear.
Just go and tell Mukherjee to get some savories and some tea.
Of course.
Greetings.
Listen. Why don't you hire Gorasaria as a secretary?
Most of the stars have done so.
Should I hire him because he is good at his job
or because he is not a woman?
No, no. I didn't mean it like that.
But still, a female secretary?
You can just say secretary.
Do you really need to add the prefix "female"?
All it takes is to unlatch that doorway
To let the lost light in
To take shredded dreams
And sew yourself a technicolor coat Of the night
I am done with making excuses
Singing mournful dirges
Sorrowful songs sung slowly
Brilliant!
The third verse is beautiful, Majrooh.
The sad truth is that no one listens to the third verse.
It's never played on the radio.
If you were to hang yourself from the third verse,
no one would find your body.
It's sounding a little cluttered, isn't it, Naseeban? It's too alliterative.
Almost like a tongue twister.
It will be difficult to sing.
Mr. Rai, the sentiments of the scene are clearly and beautifully
reflected in these lyrics.
Besides, how can we argue with a poet about his poetry?
Ma'am, Mr. Sanyal passed away.
What?
ADDITIONAL BENGAL NEWS
THE INTOXICATING VOICE GOES SILENT TODAY: CHANDAN LAL SANYAL PASSES AWAY
This is All India Radio.
I am sure our listeners have already read the sad news in today's newspapers.
One of our most beloved singers, Chandan Lal Sanyal, is no more.
And today, in our studio, we have Ms. Qala Manjushree with us.
-Ma'am, welcome. -Thank you.
I would like to know.
You never had the privilege of working with Mr. Sanyal?
No. Sadly, I never got the opportunity.
Liar!
I have a fondness for breaking apart
Come gather me, my love
Do you know the lyrics of this song?
Who doesn't?
Then sing.
I have a fondness for breaking apart
Come gather me, my love
I drown in you
Like a word submerged In an unspoken conversation
Son…
I drown in you
Like a word submerged In an unspoken conversation
One look at you and the winds
Themselves have caught their breath Like I would your hands
The river of the night Pools into your eyes
And fells me to my knees
I have a fondness for breaking apart
Come gather me, my love
Shall we practice our music?
Not today.
Qala, listen.
No one can argue with you on thumri, you yourself are an enchanting melody.
Why are you standing so far away? Stop talking and come to me.
From our hills, especially for you.
What does Mom want with Mr. Sanyal?
Why is she sitting with him?
For me.
She has a dream that I should sing in the film industry like Mr. Sanyal.
I could get a chance to work with Mr. Sumant Kumar.
Only a precious few get such an opportunity.
And the Golden Record, I could even be honored with that.
Just imagine.
I could finally sing to my heart's content.
I'll fill the whole of Calcutta city with my songs.
I want to do that too.
I want all of that too.
That… That golden award…
that Mom wants, I'll get it for her.
Thank you.
You know, Qala,
Devendra Narayan finished his education in England.
And he's with the Royal Air Force now, right?
And Queen Mandira was telling me that he is very fond of music.
Have you ever been to our place?
No.
That's okay. You'll be living there now.
She's going to love it.
And what about your plans? Back to the hills?
No! I'll be staying here from now on.
Qala will be with you.
And I'll be with Jagan, guiding him in his music, his career.
For now, everything is in Calcutta.
Himachal will have to wait.
Why don't you both get to know each other a bit better?
Urmila, I'd love to go and chat with your young protégé.
-Yes, please. -Shall we?
-Let's go. -Please come.
So, you like music?
No.
I hate it.
The who's who of the industry will be coming.
You'll get to meet everyone, Qala.
And of course…
Jagan will sing.
It'll be so nice.
Shall I sing something too?
You know what kind of girls sing in front of the film industry people.
-But Jagan is singing. -He is a boy.
So, the rules are different.
-Shall we go back home? -What?
Back to the hills. Just the two of us? Let's go home.
You will get married, and go to your husband's home.
But my home is with you.
The son stays with the mother. The daughter stays with her husband.
In that case, I'll marry Jagan.
So I don't have to ever leave you. Ever!
Do you have no shame?
How can you even think of marrying your own brother?
Brother?
I can't believe this.
I hope you're not putting ideas into his head.
Disgusting!
Jagan's performance is about to begin. What are you doing standing here?
Go and get some warm milk for him.
How are you?
You can see me?
I thought I was invisible.
How can anyone not take notice of you?
You can see me.
But have you ever heard me?
I sing too, you know?
You're going to regret it.
You are planning on launching Jagan.
Remember, he's very good at replacing people.
Jagan might replace me. Just as someone will do the same to him.
Just like I replaced someone before me.
Only music remains. Always.
All this fine talk!
But when you get spat out like so much phlegm because of Jagan,
when no one will want to listen to you,
no one will even recognize or remember you because of Jagan.
It will take to the skies
The lonely swan will fly away
Leaving the spectacle of the world A mere fair
It will take to the skies
The lonely swan will fly away
It will take to the skies
The lonely swan will fly away
It will take to the skies
When my life ends
Only then will I stop getting cowed down
The agents of death are too strong for me How to free this tangle of death
It will take to the skies
The lonely swan will fly away
It will take to the skies
The lonely swan will fly away
Son. What happened?
-He's burning up. -My God.
-Fever. -Let's take him inside, come.
Easy. Easy, son. Come, let's go inside
Easy. Easy, son.
-I'll call the doctor. -Yes.
Yes. It's-- It's an emergency.
-Come as fast as you can-- -I'll be there as soon as I can.
Thank you. Yes, please.
How is he now?
What should we do about the guests?
Just ask all of them to leave.
Urmila, do you realize how fragile their egos are?
It takes little to nothing for them to be displeased.
We have to think about the future.
Today he might be unwell,
but tomorrow Jagan will need these very people to succeed.
That's how it works. You can't just ask them to leave.
Then let them wait for as long as they want.
Does it look like I care?
I won't tug at your strings
Nor unravel your clouds
I won't unlatch the windows to your heart
Just stay don't turn your gaze away
I will not chase the light
No more will I dance drenched in rain
I will bind the burning fireflies In my hair
Your threshold
I will not dare to cross your threshold
Your threshold
Nor ask to be held in your shade
Just stay don't turn your gaze away
Just don't turn your gaze away
Have some almonds. They are from our own orchards.
That song I heard that day.
I swear the voice is still echoing in my head.
You didn't finish the song. But still.
You left an EP with Mr. Sanyal, a hymn.
"Without Fear, Without Hate".
Majrooh heard it. He said it sounds like the voice of divinity itself.
You are too kind.
-I did mention it on our call-- -I just could not believe it
How can anyone or anything silence him?
Even God couldn't commit such a travesty.
You will get your voice back. You will sing again.
And you will record your first professional song with me.
I'll take your leave now.
Wait.
It's snowing.
And it's quite late too.
Why don't we ask him to stay the night, Mom?
He can leave when the weather improves.
How remiss of me.
Of course, she is right.
Please stay the night.
So very kind of you.
From our hills. Especially for you.
What is it?
What happened? Are you feverish again?
Not fever.
Just noise…
here!
And fear here!
I feel like something inside me is broken.
Shall I call the doctor?
You sleep.
I'll leave now.
Everything will be better tomorrow.
The recording is in three days’ time.
Okay. I'll be there.
Good.
No smoking, all right?
Urmila, ma'am.
Your daughter sings like the cuckoo.
Cuckoo.
True. She is that.
Well, then I'll take your leave.
Bye-bye.
Believe in yourself.
He is absolutely right about you.
Cuckoo.
A bird that never makes her own nest. Always steals what belongs to others.
Never puts in any effort to create something of her own.
Takes what doesn't belong to her.
Sir, what are you doing there? Please, come in.
Hello.
Is Qala home?
Yes. She is.
The thing is I've got a film in hand after a long struggle. So…
If Qala could sing just one song-- I mean…
If she could give me some dates. Even a single day. I'll fit it into that.
Yes, yes, of course, sir. I'll figure out a date that works.
Please come in and have a seat. I'll call ma'am.
-Fine. -Please, come.
Ma'am, Mr. Sumant Kumar has come to see you.
Tell him I'm not home.
He was saying he's got a film after a big gap, so--
Ma'am…
Is everything okay?
Actually, I just realized ma'am is not at home.
I thought she was, my mistake. I didn't see her leave.
-The moment she comes back, I'll-- -Thank you.
-Hello. -Hello.
A lightning trunk call to Mrs. Urmila Manjushree, please.
-Did you say Urmila Manjushree? -Yes.
-What is the location? -Debisthan, Himachal.
Okay. Can you please repeat the number?
24343.
Please hold the line, we're connecting the call.
Okay.
I will hold.
-Hello. -Mama…
Mama…
Something's wrong with me, Mama.
I think I need help--
How can you be such a bitch, Qala?
I made you! You were nothing!
Everything you have today is because of me.
If I hadn't been there for you then, you would not be here now.
I came for Jagan.
Had he not lost his voice,
it would have been him in that recording studio, not you, Qala.
Oh, to die like this
Is not an ending my friend
The world doth die every day
Yet does not fade away
Who knows when the end will come
And how death will visit me
Mama.
I have to go to Calcutta for a recording.
Leave.
Get out.
And never come back here.
This house has no place for a courtesan.
Then how are you living here?
You left music.
For all this.
So, how is it my fault?
Why are you taking it out on me?
I'm your daughter.
Shouldn't you love me. Unconditionally?
But you don't…
What will it take, Mama?
Whatever I do…
It's never enough.
Mama.
Sorry, Mama.
Sorry, Mama. Sorry.
I didn't mean it, Mama. Sorry.
Please.
Mama.
How does one tell him now
-That no means no-- -Cut, cut, cut, cut!
You seem a bit nervous. Don't be.
We are all here for you. And we are in no rush.
So relax. And sing.
Ready?
Let's start.
How does one tell him now
That no means no
-My impatient amour-- -Cut, cut, cut!
All good, nothing to worry.
The scene for this song
is about a flirtation between the hero and his lover.
He is wooing her. And she is playing coy.
It's a game. There is a yes hidden in her no.
So, nothing much. You just have to have fun.
Just imagine yourself in the heroine's place.
Don't just sing. Imagine you are the lover.
Let's try again. It's going well. Don't worry.
Nervous?
It'll come. Okay. Ready?
-Yes. -Okay, good.
How does one tell him now
-That no means no-- -Cut!
Hey, I said cut.
This is the 11th take. What are you doing?
Wasting the producer's money.
Manoj, sir, have you forgotten your first recording?
I wasn't this bad.
-Why don't you take a short break? -Sir, just one more time.
-Please. -Yes. We will. We will.
-Sir, she is not working out at all. -I made a huge mistake.
I don't think she's cut out for it.
Qala, please don't mind me saying this, but…
I don't think you're ready yet.
Sir, I am ready.
I can sing.
I… I can’t go back home.
Sir, last chance, please. Last.
Hey, Majrooh. A moment.
I just had a chat with her.
Nothing major, she just got a little nervous. That's all.
But you are right.
There is something about this girl.
We can use her.
A chance to work with Mr. Sumant Kumar.
Only a precious few get such an opportunity.
I want to do that too. I want all of that too.
That golden award that Mom wants,
I'll get it for her.
-That's hardly a reason. -That's easy for you to say.
-Even you're always singing for Mom. -I don't sing for her.
I sing because it's like breathing for me.
I sing for myself!
Have you ever tried to sing just for yourself?
How does one tell him now
That no means no
Here he comes riding his high horse My impatient amour
"Oh, my plaintive heart isolated In the crowd silent in the roar."
"Singing a litany A broken note at a time."
-Beautiful! -What's so beautiful?
It's too complex and poetic.
Write something simple.
Listeners should at least understand what's being sung.
Did you understand a word? Okay, tell me, what's a litany?
Nothing is going right today.
Everyone, just leave me alone for a bit, please.
Please, leave.
And thus the poet leaves his mark.
Qala, not you.
Get the door.
He weaves wildflowers into her hair
Just to come a tad bit near
This is but a ploy and game
Wish I knew how to play 'em
His eyes belie his lying words
He doesn't take no for an answer
Just sulking frowns on this clown How does one tell him now
Here he comes riding his high horse My impatient amour
How does one tell him now
That no means no
Here he comes riding his high horse My impatient amour
That song you composed…
The lost ways of the wayward heart
-It's beautiful. -I created that melody with you in mind.
Your voice would have been perfect for it.
But then Mr. Sumant Kumar said you weren't available.
Why don't you keep a secretary?
People can talk directly to her for your dates.
I don't know anyone here.
Give me your number.
-224-- -Hello, madam.
-Hello. -So, you have managed to meet?
Qala, a moment.
What were you two talking about?
You are from a good family.
And girls like you should not mingle with women like her.
And that courtesan's work is not worth talking about.
If you allow it, it will continue. If you stay quiet, it'll keep happening.
Today, he is at the zenith. Tomorrow you will be.
Today, people like him go unpunished.
Everyone unsees the abuse. But times will change.
It's an old trick it has.
Ma'am…
The car is parked at the back. I'll get it.
-Look, look. Qala, ma'am… -Qala, ma'am, how are you, ma'am?
What is your next film, Qala, ma'am?
There are rumors that you have refused to sing in Mr. Dey's next film.
Is that true?
Why did you kill yourself?
All you lost was your voice.
My voice was my identity.
My life. My dreams.
And here you are living them.
Are you happy now?
Mama is still not with me.
It's a semi classical melody. Mid-tempo.
Mr. Rao, you tend to run, regardless of the tempo.
Since Qala is singing, we should wrap early.
But we do have the studio for the entire shift.
-Shall we begin? -Yes, madam.
Qala.
Is everything okay?
Darling child, the recording can be postponed if you aren't up to it.
I can sing.
I will also sing.
-From here? -Yes.
-From here, right? -Qala.
What's wrong?
I can't hear anything.
Mr. Rao, please play the flute.
Can you please move the mic closer to the musicians?
Of course, love.
Qala.
-Ma'am. Ma'am. -What happened, child?
What happened, child?
-Qala. Look at me… -Ma'am.
If you don't tell us what's wrong, we won't be able to help you.
She never says anything about what's upsetting her.
Ma'am. Ma'am. Ma'am.
Ma'am.
He's practicing his music.
Who?
He'll want warm milk. Before his performance.
Milk…
Ma'am…
Sorry, Mama. I didn't mean it.
And now, dear listeners, let's hear a snippet
from the slightly disturbing interview with Qala Manjushree.
There are rumors that you have refused to sing in Mr. Dey's next film.
-Is that true? -Why did you kill yourself?
All you lost was your voice.
My voice was my identity.
My life. My dreams.
And here you are living them.
Are you happy now?
Mama is still not with me.
-Hello? Dr. Goenka? -Yes?
It's Qala.
What's wrong, Sudha? Hello?
-Something has happened to her. -What happened?
-I don't know. -Okay.
Can you please come as soon as possible?
Ma'am, come here.
Shall I call someone?
Naseeban, perhaps?
Ma'am, would you like some water?
I'll get you some water.
Don't do it! Don't do it! Don't do it!
Don't do it!
When my life ends
Only then will I stop getting cowed down
The agents of death are too strong for me
How to free this tangle of death
It will take to the skies
The lonely swan will fly away
Ma'am! Ma'am!
Hello.
Madam, lightning call from Calcutta, please hold.
Hello, am I talking to Mrs. Manjushree?
-Mrs. Urmila Manjushree? -Yes.
This is Dr. Goenka, I'm calling from Calcutta. Your daughter…
-Hello? -…Qala…
-Hello? -Hello. Can you hear me?
Yes.
Qala is not well… I am sorry to say…
She is mentally unstable.
She even tried to take her own life--
-Hello? -Hello. Can you hear me?
I said she tried to commit suicide, Mrs. Manjushree.
Hello… Hello… Hello… Mrs. Manjushree?
Mama… Mama…
Something's wrong with me, Mama.
I-- I think I need help. Help.
I-- I think I need help. Mama…
Mama.
Dr. Goenka.
Qala's mother.
How is she?
She's in bad shape.
But don't worry.
I've already taken the liberty of speaking
with a psychiatrist at R.G. Dhar medical college.
We should get her admitted immediately.
I know. But what we can do?
We don't really have any other option.
In fact, the ambulance is already here-- -My daughter will go home with me.
Not to some mental institution.
Madam, I don't think you are grasping the seriousness of the situation.
She needs help.
We have to admit her. Madam!
Qala.
Qala!
No, no, no, no…
Please, Doctor. Please, Doctor, help her. Somebody help her, please!
My mother asks
Oh, my darling girl
What makes you so wan so pale
Oh, Mother in the yonder forest
A peacock does sing
He has stolen my dreams away
My baby girl should we find a weapon
Should we hunt him down
And kill him now
Let's not kill him Mother
Let us just silence him somehow
Let us trap him in a cage now