tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9856423091346254212024-02-07T22:46:46.045+05:00Tangled Up In BlueRandom ravings of an exile from the past...Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.comBlogger174125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-42140326795349488322022-08-27T23:31:00.010+05:002022-08-31T09:19:00.521+05:00...On Nayyara Noor's Passing<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nayyara
Noor’s name translated into ‘a radiant star of light’. On 20<sup>th</sup>
August, the star of her life on earth was extinguished after a battle with
cancer. As with Shaukat Ali last year, Nayyara Noor’s death is something of a
personal tragedy for me, because of the inextricable link between her voice and
my formative years. Her voice was my initiation into the world of ghazal and
nazm, my introduction to the poetry of Faiz, Nasir Kazmi and many others, my
key to exploring music from my grandparents and great-grandparents generation,
and an early introduction to the work of the golden generation of Pakistani TV
composers. <o:p></o:p></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Through my personal
recollections of some of her cassette albums, as well as around half a dozen of
my favorite songs of hers, I’ll attempt to paint a picture of why Nayyara Noor remains
such an indelible part of my life.</span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjN-AFVac2Sss7ojoJaNol_9K3HKabHpOIDuOp3JdzQhM6jIbA7y3ZUoxMHHy2Z3Ski5NiAJkvM35pke-y1v1s7qdAhyMQ1DSxe-3wF-TW6ITn1g4P9oUTr5pFRx-d1bWbkXG0slWvSBdlHdARiNrVyTfNV5U5Pc_sHn1ODDfm6KqIx6EFul82BTEvAfA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="968" height="597" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjN-AFVac2Sss7ojoJaNol_9K3HKabHpOIDuOp3JdzQhM6jIbA7y3ZUoxMHHy2Z3Ski5NiAJkvM35pke-y1v1s7qdAhyMQ1DSxe-3wF-TW6ITn1g4P9oUTr5pFRx-d1bWbkXG0slWvSBdlHdARiNrVyTfNV5U5Pc_sHn1ODDfm6KqIx6EFul82BTEvAfA=w640-h597" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nayyara
Noor, one of five children, was born in Guwahati, Assam in 1950 to a family
originally from Amritsar. While she migrated with most of her family to Karachi
when she was seven years old; her father stayed on for another 35 years. The
second decade of her life was spent in Karachi and later Lahore, where she was
discovered while singing in a musical evening in the National College of Arts.
Prof Asrar Ahmed of Islamia College Lahore was the first to encourage her to
sing, composing several pieces for her in her initial years as a singer. In the
early 1970s, Shoaib Hashmi, along with his wife Saleema, Farooq Qaiser, Shahid
Ttosy and Arshad Mehmood created a number of highly influential sketch shows
for PTV, including Such Gup and Tal Matol. Every week, the sketches would be
interspersed with one or two songs by young Nayyara, sitting as if lost in a
reverie, singing to herself, oblivious to the camera’s attention. Her singing
style was completely different from the reigning queens of Pakistani music, including
Iqbal Bano, Farida Khanum and Noorjehan. Completely devoid pf the ‘nakhray’ and
the ‘nritya’ of her contemporaries, she sang in a simple, almost matter-of-fact
way, letting the sweetness and beauty of her voice shine through.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9f5nmLFqKsm4IrrZC899Q0Fchj3QNk1T2EGqonekSXa2I1Gicq9v0gcDTw56NYGK7YQPxPAQcYjDCMD6byCSVTRYnwB_PEA-SawTLsZhaWcobQe768RRtcMqSYeCDMS-3t66lI9tqNQkU6jThX8ApQt2YY05OyOGDI8gj30NwWoiYW-RlVYkIYCR-wg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="966" height="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9f5nmLFqKsm4IrrZC899Q0Fchj3QNk1T2EGqonekSXa2I1Gicq9v0gcDTw56NYGK7YQPxPAQcYjDCMD6byCSVTRYnwB_PEA-SawTLsZhaWcobQe768RRtcMqSYeCDMS-3t66lI9tqNQkU6jThX8ApQt2YY05OyOGDI8gj30NwWoiYW-RlVYkIYCR-wg=w640-h584" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
1976, in celebration of Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s 65<sup>th</sup> birthday, Shoaib Hashmi,
along with his Tal Matol team collaborated with EMI Pakistan to release a
seminal album, “<b>Nayyara Sings Faiz</b>”. From its first track, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcSkSOB8Zgw">‘Intesaab’ (Preamble)</a> to
the concluding piece <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBGIFZgYbLU">‘Khair
Ho Teri Leylaon Ki’</a>, each track presented a fresh, distinct interpretation
of Faiz. The album <a href="https://i.discogs.com/WWJmbhgVplooYhXWjBDk9Iz6YO3sPtK9F1C1jIKnLxI/rs:fit/g:sm/q:90/h:600/w:600/czM6Ly9kaXNjb2dz/LWRhdGFiYXNlLWlt/YWdlcy9SLTE2MDY1/OTEzLTE2MDI4Mjg3/NDctOTkwMS5qcGVn.jpeg">liner</a>
<a href="https://i.discogs.com/v5BmCMXLKhzc-ciGFOEC3HXmjTgOupGgi126Axa9iYs/rs:fit/g:sm/q:90/h:600/w:600/czM6Ly9kaXNjb2dz/LWRhdGFiYXNlLWlt/YWdlcy9SLTE2MDY1/OTEzLTE2MDI4Mjg3/NDctMjg1NC5qcGVn.jpeg">notes</a>
highlight the youth and freshness of the contributors, as well as Faiz’s
personal involvement with the project. Nayyara herself considered this project,
and her association with Faiz as one of the fondest and most affecting memories
of her life. This album, initially released as an LP and later on cassette and
CD, was the gateway to Faiz, and to the beauty of Urdu poetry, for me and many listeners
of the preceding generation. <span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The sweetness and malleability
of her voice was perfectly suited to Faiz’s nazms and geets, as a result,
tracks from the album are now considered some of the finest interpretations of
Faiz ever recorded. In probably her finest achievement as a singer,</span></span> as with Noorjehan and ‘Mujh Se Pehli Si Mohabbat’, Mehdi
Hassan with ‘Gulon Main Rang Bharay’, and Iqbal Bano with ‘Dasht-e-Tanhai’,
Nayyara Noor was able to make a Faiz nazm synonymous with her name, ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xt25z-tuBio">Aaj Bazar Main’</a>. The “Nayyara
Sings Faiz” cassette tape was in such heavy rotation in my home growing up that
it had to be replaced at least three or four times because of wear and tear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKw8Fs9hMthW1CTr_AVHXGnUiOSEJrS9_cFoPYiB8dKjrVFYLbQJ4ubEDOrGqSoaEhyyMcSnDKj79NEGumxj_YOs_1Woab0xIl82WdL9Es72QpdP9Yt9QWoNckVqwJPSKuheQr6CkaqF3XWoRF9HhyeecRGcZtMTUZd6Wxae65QqIffA8b5h_PzdrSXQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="731" data-original-width="975" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKw8Fs9hMthW1CTr_AVHXGnUiOSEJrS9_cFoPYiB8dKjrVFYLbQJ4ubEDOrGqSoaEhyyMcSnDKj79NEGumxj_YOs_1Woab0xIl82WdL9Es72QpdP9Yt9QWoNckVqwJPSKuheQr6CkaqF3XWoRF9HhyeecRGcZtMTUZd6Wxae65QqIffA8b5h_PzdrSXQ=w640-h480" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Another
one of Nayyara Noor’s cassettes proved an important gateway for me. Ever since
I could remember, I had been obsessed with music from the golden era of Hindi
films, yet was totally unaware of the wealth of music released before
partition. Nayyara and her husband had released a cassette of covers of 1930’s
and ‘40s film songs titled ‘<b>Yaadon Ke Saaye’</b> in 1988, and I happened
upon it in my parents’ cassette collection in almost 10 years later, when I was
eleven. Violinist Javed Iqbal’s wonderful arrangements and Nayyara’s wonderful
singing ensured that these 50-year-old <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzdaJNMjDDc">melodies</a> sounded fresh
to my ears, and propelled me towards discovering the wonderful music of the pre-partition
era, which enamors me to this day. The story goes that when the great Anil
Biswas heard Nayyara’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MB7ZYVc0M9k">rendition</a>
of one of his 194s hits, he exclaimed “I wish she had been around when I
composed the song in the forties. I would have happily used her as a playback
singer.” He autographed the cassette flap of the album for her, an autograph
which she considered her most prized possession and which she framed and displayed
in her house.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-zxDRqBCWPg1IEJQj-ahIEUl1MdrpdFnOgqgsDpeKaxus98L0b6gGqoCMlRE9diKHVxZUCDKCWN49bfzLbB33fYHGemjaShObyFF0JEglzWy5m4qnRflRc5IS7ZeQzGZ-EagqKu_Mh088goO6Q2-NCZtIeZdPLZaFEM70ezWQG0PAFJlzf8N9dUoHNw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="463" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-zxDRqBCWPg1IEJQj-ahIEUl1MdrpdFnOgqgsDpeKaxus98L0b6gGqoCMlRE9diKHVxZUCDKCWN49bfzLbB33fYHGemjaShObyFF0JEglzWy5m4qnRflRc5IS7ZeQzGZ-EagqKu_Mh088goO6Q2-NCZtIeZdPLZaFEM70ezWQG0PAFJlzf8N9dUoHNw=w304-h274" width="304" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg15MxVidCG-ZEfzFGNjtk7SMKYtLh6JWe-RRPNoLgM3Dxx1at-aCLUWw6ivUjax6U9nAG4vUl_mXk0XtZsHKPtSyJ-2QLcAWqH3dG7sZX79AzViLTgFrmXusrr4k4AIICFEQVyCzewbHXVY4T3-kAyS9qKSo4p3r9kdvGgTd0g_lH3xeYNZMbLvDiC5Q" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="488" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg15MxVidCG-ZEfzFGNjtk7SMKYtLh6JWe-RRPNoLgM3Dxx1at-aCLUWw6ivUjax6U9nAG4vUl_mXk0XtZsHKPtSyJ-2QLcAWqH3dG7sZX79AzViLTgFrmXusrr4k4AIICFEQVyCzewbHXVY4T3-kAyS9qKSo4p3r9kdvGgTd0g_lH3xeYNZMbLvDiC5Q=w272-h272" width="272" /></span></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One
of the mainstays of the Pakistani music industry has been the TV drama
series OST. In the heyday of the Pakistan Television, from the ‘70s to the ‘90s,
PTV collaborated with EMI Pakistan to release a series of albums titled </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">TV
Hits</b><span style="font-family: inherit;">, featuring OSTs as well as hit songs from PTV’s musical programs. Featuring
compositions by some of Pakistan’s leading composers, including </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a746cCt87Fs" style="font-family: inherit;">Khalil Ahmed</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">, </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jiYoy-sCZ-U" style="font-family: inherit;">Mian Sheheryar</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> and </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5PuHNXytU0" style="font-family: inherit;">Arshad Mehmud</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">, Nayyara
Noor’s prolific PTV output yielded not one but two highly acclaimed ‘TV Hits’ albums,
featuring some of her greatest hits. Even these albums didn’t do full justice
to her work on PTV. Her haunting, melancholy-tinged ‘</span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crMvz2lQAM8" style="font-family: inherit;">Kabhi Hum Khoobsurat Thay’</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">
from Shehzad Khalil and Rahat Kazmi’s 1980 play ‘Teesra Kinara’ (an adaptation
of Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead) is one of her most enduring hits. The crowning glory
of 1980’s Pakistani Drama, ‘Dhoop Kinarey’ also featured Nayyara Noor singing
the </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjJ_VU5sap0" style="font-family: inherit;">title track</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">, an
astonishing Arshad Mehmud composition with lyrics by Hasan Akbar Kamal.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p><span>I’ve
listened to these albums on repeat since Nayyara Noor’s passing, as well as
dozens of other songs by her. I’ve once again been struck by the effortless
ease of her singing, the ability to navigate ghazals, geets and nazms without
sounding too old-fashioned or too outre’, and the two qualities of her voice immortalized
in Jonathan Swift’s wonderful phrase ‘sweetness and light’. The radiat starlight
epitomized in her name and her voice may have been snuffed out by fate last
week, But there are primeval stars on the edges of creation that dimmed and
died eons ago, yet their light still shines across the billions of light-years,
and stargazers on earth shall continue to look up into the skies and find
comfort in seeing their familiar glowing forms in the night sky. Nayyara’s
voice, pouring sweetness and light in our ears for the past fifty years, shall lose
none of its radiance as long as there are listeners eager to find comfort, solace
and light in music.</span></span></p><p></p>Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-55176440557474631472022-01-16T22:01:00.002+05:002022-01-16T22:02:26.542+05:00...Of Sacred Soundtracks - Part II<div style="text-align: justify;">In my snootier days, I was an even more of insufferable snob about pop culture than I am now, disdainfully looking down upon things that I considered too lowbrow. True story, during family road-trips in my early teens, I used to pester the folks to play the cassette of Faiz ghazals in the car stereo and scoffed my younger brother who preferred to bop to the latest Nusrat tape (look how the tables have turned). My disdain for the use of Filmi tunes in Na’at and Qawwali lasted for a long while too, till thankfully I saw the light and mended my ways. As an aside, who wouldn’t after hearing Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi and Co take the tune from one of Noor Jehan’s most popular <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-k-HMOLupQ">Punjabi film songs</a> and turn it into a haal-inducing na'at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OR42dFaWtrI">in Raag Darbari</a>. As one of the most ‘awaami’ forms of music, it would be considered natural for Qawwali to borrow freely from film music, probably the most awaami music of the subcontinent. Seven years ago, I wrote about some of my favorite examples of filmi tunes appropriated by qawwals, a post that requires updating to include the many examples I’ve heard and fallen in love with since, including some truly unique ones from artists I had not even heard of back then (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtX8KCqGp7Q">case</a> in <a href="https://youtu.be/hmO4pdfvIqk?t=245">point</a>).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is yet another very interesting intersection of filmi music with Qawwali, a phenomenon rarer than borrowing merely the tunes of film songs. Occasionally, film songs are appropriated en-bloc as Qawwali, music, lyrics and all. The rarity of this appropriation can be explained by the fact that for a film song to be performed in a Qawwali setting, the lyrics have to fit the requirements of a Qawwali piece. Love, longing and sorrow need to be couched in language that can suggest more spiritual meanings, rather than temporal superficiality. The essential themes of devotional music; submission, surrender, the expectation of spiritual salvation through love, need to be prominent in the lyrics. That doesn’t seem too big an ask from the music of the golden era of subcontinental film songs, when master lyricists with grounding in Urdu poetics were writing one beautifully written song after another. But the fact remains that very few songs translate well as Qawwalis, probably because the ‘kaifiyat’ a Qawwal aims to induce in the listeners might get diluted by the recognizability and temporal associations of popular film songs. This analysis is best left to ethnomusicologists, who might also find it interesting that most of the film songs appropriated as Qawwalis have been sung by female singers. The majority of Punjabi, Seraiki, Purbi and Brijbhasha devotional poetry, albeit written by male poets, is in the female voice, and these songs are no exception. Below, I present a few of my favorite examples of this subgenre of Qawwali, film songs with spiritual undertones performed as Qawwali. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>1.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ranjhan Yaar – Lyrics: Hazin Qadri, Music: Bakhshi Wazir</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Film: Mera Naa Patay Khan - 1975</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Film version: Mehnaz Begum</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Qawwali version: Ameer Ali Khan Murkianwale Qawwal</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Mehnaz Begum sings this lovely Punjabi song in the Babra Sharif / Munawwar Zareef starring comedy/romance. The composition is lovely, especially the melodic surprise on the second verse of each ‘antra’, and Mehnaz sings it beautifully. While the picturization is a bit comedic (considering Pakistan’s premier film comic of the time, Munawwar Zareef is the object of affections), the lyrics are anything but lighthearted. The words could be interposed to any number of Punjabi Qawwalis written in the mid-twentieth century by Allah Ditta Khaki, Fani Bulandshahri or Purnam Allahabadi. The themes of submission to the Beloved, of being dyed in His hue, of considering him a guide on the true path and the protector of one’s honor, are universally found in Punjabi devotional poetry. It goes without saying that in the hands of a gifted Qawwal, these themes could be elaborated further. In recent memory, there were few Qawwals as gifted as the late Ameer Ali Khan Murkianwale. His style was melodious, playful yet with a rich vein of melancholy, and his deep grounding in classical music was honed by long apprenticeships with his father Rafiq Hussain Qawwal, as well as Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. This piece occupied a prime place in his repertoire, and he did full justice to it. The video below, from his Dream Journey recording made in December 2016, needs no elaborate write-ups and expositions; the late Ustad’s performance speaks for itself.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/x_inZQUL5Ls" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></b>
<b><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hprZI-wUKUg" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></b>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><b>
2.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Jo Main Jaanti Bichrat Hain Saiyyan – Lyrics: Shakeel Badayuni, Music: Naushad</b></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><b>Film: Shabab - 1958</b></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><b>Film version: Lata Mangeshkar</b></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><b>Qawwali Version: Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><b> </b> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>I would have begun this song’s description by saying that Nutan never looked lovelier, but I realized that such a statement would be incorrect, as Nutan looked lovely in every film she ever did. This beautiful Naushad composition in Maand is based on a Purbi folk-song attributed to Ameer Khusrau (RA) among others. The poignant lyrics by Shakeel feature the theme of separation from the Beloved, prevalent in devotional poetry, especially in Purbi and Seraiki poetry. It doesn’t hurt the poignant power of the song that it is sung by Lata near the peak of her powers. Interestingly, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUAsiFP8qrw">another song</a> from this film has received the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6VZXoXJ4w8">Qawwali treatment</a>, a testament to the multifacetedness of Shakeel’s wonderful lyrics. Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal give this song the Qawwali treatment in another Dream Journey recording from 2018. The raagdaari of the party, including the younger crop of Qawwal Bacche, highlights the beautiful Raag this composition is based on. Abu Muhammad takes the lead in this performance, as one by one the youngsters take flights of taankari. The pathos is tinged with earthiness and a sly, almost playful resignation, befitting the song’s origins in folk music. Farid Ayaz and Co will feature again in this post, for good reason. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/e37lAtOruGY" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>
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<b>3.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kya Jaane Kya Armaan Le Kar – Lyrics: Qateel Shifai, Music; Rasheed Attre</b></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><b>Film: Anaarkali - 1958</b></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><b>Film Version: Noorjehan</b></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><b>Qawwali Version: Captain Sufi Muhammad Ramzan </b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><b> </b> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Anaarkali, the Pakistani film version of Syed Imtiaz Ali Taj’s seminal Urdu play, is one of the crown jewels of Pakistani film music. Rasheed Attre and Noorjehan was always a potent combination, but in this film the pair outdid themselves. Basing his compositions on Classical Raags, featuring traditional instruments like the Veena, the Pakhawaj and the Surbahar, Rasheed Attre created more than half a dozen immortal compositions, and Noorjehan did the rest in ensuring their immortality. This song gets extra brownie points for featuring a Veena among the instruments picturized, and being played by someone who’s not simply miming but actually knows how. Noorjehan looks beautiful as Anaarkali, Himalayawala is regal Akbar(albeit a bit worse for wear), and the sets are lavish by Pakistani film standards. The song itself needs no praises, a beautiful composition with lovely lyrics, it is is one of my favorite Noorjehan songs. The Qawwali version of this song is what originally spurred me towards writing this post a while ago. It is incomplete unfortunately, but other than that it’s probably my favorite type of Qawwali performance. An elderly, spectacled gent sits on the harmonium, he sings the asthayi while someone searches for the kalam written in the beyaaz. The beyaaz is placed on the harmonium as the spectacles are placed to one side, and the performance continues. It’s just two people performing, the singer on the harmonium, and a rather talented gent on the tabla, a two-person setup replicated across hundreds of shrines across the subcontinent. It is night, the crickets are chirping, the door to the dargah reveals the mehraabs without. There is no need of taans and raagdari here, no teams of humnavaas, the Qawwal is an obscure musician who does not test his vocal limits, yet the ‘kaifiyat’ of the kalaam is conveyed loud and clear. What more could you ask for?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
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<b>4.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ve Laggiyan Di Lajj Rakha Layeen – Lyrics: Manzoor Jhalla, Music: Rehman Verma</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Film: Chor Nalay Chattar – 1970</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Film Version: Noorjehan</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Qawwali Version: Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>This lovely song in Jaunpuri was created by a pair of gentlemen who have faded into obscurity, lyricist Manzoor Jhalla and composer Rehman Verma. The song however, refuses to die. Rediscovered by newer generations of musicians, one can find dozens of cover versions online. The lovely composition highlights the trademark ‘chalan’ of the Raag in the ‘antra’, and the lyrics are once again reminiscent of countless devotional songs. The fear of being forgotten by the Beloved, the pleas to the protector of one’s honor, the affirmations of love, all are to be found in the Kafis and Punjabi compositions that Qawwals sing. Farid Ayaz, holding court in his kaftan and shawl, displays how perfectly attuned he is to the themes in this song when he conducts an eleven-minute exposition of those themes without singing past the first verse or the ‘asthayi’ of the song. Instructing and admonishing both his party-members and a few youngsters in the crowd, he plucks girahs from the kalaam of Khwaja Ghulam Farid (RA), Ameer Khusrau (RA), Siraj Aurangabadi and turns a takraar on a single verse into a ‘pukki’ ghar ki mehfil. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><b>5.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sajna Assaan Raah Takdeyan Rehna – Lyrics: Tanveer Naqvi, Music: Master Tufail Hussain</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Film: Bhola Sajan – 1974</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Film Version: Noorjehan</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Qawwali Version: Rafiq Hussain, Barkat Ali Ameer Ali Qawwal</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span> </span> </span>The Punjabi repertoire of Noorjehan, especially from the 1970’s, is full of outstanding performances waiting to be rediscovered by the general audience, with no better examples to support my claim than this song. Written by Pakistan’s preeminent film lyricist, and composed by the wonderfully talented son of Master Inayat Hussain, this song is all but forgotten by everyone except hardcore listeners of Punjabi film music. The pathos in the lyrics is superbly conveyed by Noorjehan without lapsing into histrionics, the instrumentation is understated, and the picturization features Alauddin in his trademark role, the heroine’s dyspeptically depressed father. The Qawwali version of this song is an absolute treasure, discovered in one of the dozens of crusty cassette tapes I was recently given by a friend to help clean and digitize. The Qawwals are singing a lovely version of “Nerre Nerre Vass Ve Dholan Yaar” when Rafiq Hussain Sb leads a digression from the main kalam. With a lovely, brief taan, he launches into a gorgeous version of this song, and the party follows him on this exploration. Cries of ‘SubhanAllah kya baat hai!’ and sighs of ‘haaye haaye’ from the audience attest to the chord the rendition immediately strikes. The vocal prowess and emotional intuition of a young Ameer Ali Khan are also on full display as he more than ably accompanies his father and uncle, and later leads the performance. It is a loose-limbed, freewheeling yet terribly emotional performance, and as Rafiq Sb assures us by saying “Kaise hoti hai Qayamat, abhi batayen ge!”, the performance is indeed ‘qayaamat-khez’. I became teary eyed the first time I heard it, and it still affects me every time I hear it, even as I type this, making me feel part of the deeply affected audience members heard in the recording. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="400" msallowfullscreen="" src="https://app.box.com/embed/s/x5x0ayfarh279mxnd3fywgcwd2q199wt?sortColumn=date&view=list" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe>
<div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ll be on the lookout for more song-to-qawwali translations like these, and would love any leads. May Allah bless those who sang these renditions, and those who taped them so that decades later, we could experience some of the magic experienced by the audiences in the dargaahs and the ghar-ki-mehfils.</div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div></div>Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-84369583104665911892021-11-03T19:51:00.003+05:002021-11-03T22:03:54.115+05:00...Of A Long Forgotten 'Muqabla'<p><br /> <span style="text-align: justify;">In August 2020 (Yes, I am going
to start just like that, with no explanation or excuse for the blog’s
three-year stasis), I found myself with a day to spare before heading off to
another of my far-flung work locations. I also found myself in Lahore, which is
as good a place as any, if not the best, for those seeking magical,
serendipitous and life-altering experiences.</span><span style="text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="text-align: justify;">By a wonderful combination of events, I had found myself in
communication with the son of one of my favorite Qawwals, </span><span style="color: red; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2010/09/of-fareedi-sahab.html">Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi</a></span><span style="text-align: justify;">. He very graciously invited
me to spend a day with him and I readily agreed. The chance to visit Fareedi
Sb’s house and listen to his son narrate stories about him was too good to miss,
so I immediately drove to Lahore, navigated the narrow alleys of Qila Gujar
Singh and found myself in a lovely pre-partition kothi adorned by a marvelous
jharoka, sipping sweet, hot tea and being regaled with stories of the late,
great Qawwal. Luckily, I had enough wits about me to record the conversation,
otherwise I would have forgotten half of the wonderful, and at times
unbelievable stories I heard that day. Stories which proved that not only was
Fareedi Sb a larger-than-life Qawwal, he was a larger-than-life person in all
other respects as well. A rabble-rouser, trail-blazer, trade-unionist, street-fighter
of a qawwal, who passed away at the very peak of his creative powers.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The wonderful conversation was
worth the four-hundred-kilometer round-trip, but the icing on the cake was when
Fareedi Sb’s son brought out a large album full of photographs and press
cuttings. Several times during the next few hours, I had to lift my jaw off the
floor as I saw one historical photograph after another, and one astonishing
press clipping / interview / performance review after another. With the host’s
kind permission, I photographed all the photos and clippings, which, along with
the audio of that day’s conversations, and a remarkable handwritten family
history of the Fareedi clan, will one day prove invaluable when I vanquish the
demons of laziness and begin writing about Qawwali in earnest. What I can do for now is
write about a particular subset of photos and news clippings that chronicled a
rare, momentous event that is forgotten today.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At the start of 1960s, Agha
Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi was one of the most exciting young Qawwals in the
subcontinent. As the star student of <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2014/06/of-crown-jewels.html">Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali Khan</a></span>, Fareedi Sb was the crown prince of the Do-aba style of Qawwali
perfected by his ustads. And as behooves a prince, he was brash, proud almost
to the point of arrogance, and ready to take on any and all comers. His combative
approach to qawwali (and indeed, to life) had made him challenge many
established musicians, both from among his seniors, as well as his
contemporaries. During my visit with Fareedi Sb’s son, I heard many tales of
Qawwali competitions or “muqablas” that his late father participated in and
won, including a few where the results had to be decided by fisticuffs.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rIUcIVh2wRKl2btGJb57lHmvCbhYmfw-2fyx9jnc7PHVmE8TkPaSJuz4YvtB4OfCriS5465ZraLSBIW_ymU9CJyuQ_wn5w6GoN135mHGHXWttVfpnpgN0dOvVAiokpHv8ZUHs31SMO_m/s500/Nari+Contractor+%2526+Fazal+Mahmood+1961.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="500" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rIUcIVh2wRKl2btGJb57lHmvCbhYmfw-2fyx9jnc7PHVmE8TkPaSJuz4YvtB4OfCriS5465ZraLSBIW_ymU9CJyuQ_wn5w6GoN135mHGHXWttVfpnpgN0dOvVAiokpHv8ZUHs31SMO_m/w320-h194/Nari+Contractor+%2526+Fazal+Mahmood+1961.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nari Contractor (L) and Fazal Mehmood (R)<br />Pakistan's Test tour of India - 1961</td></tr></tbody></table>At the end of 1960, Fareedi Sb
embarked on a tour of India, which he began by paying his respects at all the
major shrines, and visiting his hometown near Nakodar in Jalandhar. At the
start of 1961, one of Fareedi Sb’s performances at the shrine of Hz Moinuddin
Chishti (RA) at Ajmer was attended by Dilip Kumar. Impressed by the Pakistani qawwal's performance,
he invited Fareedi Sb and Co to Bombay, where they booked a large number of engagements
over the next three months. Fareedi Sb’s tour of India coincided with the
Pakistan cricket team’s <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.espncricinfo.com/series/pakistan-tour-of-india-1960-61-61527/match-results">1960-61 tour of India</a></span>,
where the visitors played five interesting (albeit drawn) games of cricket.
Capitalizing on the interest generated by Fareedi Sb’s triumphant performances
as well as the recently concluded cricket competition between the hosts and the
visiting Pakistani cricketers, an intrepid promoter named Deep Jaggi had a
brilliant idea; why not have a friendly competition between the visiting Qawwal
and one of his Indian contemporaries. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PzEH5rPXnVFhuB70RTuDQx5TZWoweoDfXxJgKPEAYk5lYfvijReeTpYgiA4SxBuMI1yTo85Q1Isyh0jrtzFdySxIUePLhaX-lWJ2h9OOICNXaPTiM3ExVXFs2ya8I6qXWylJacnTlUxN/s600/Shankar+Shambhu.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="600" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PzEH5rPXnVFhuB70RTuDQx5TZWoweoDfXxJgKPEAYk5lYfvijReeTpYgiA4SxBuMI1yTo85Q1Isyh0jrtzFdySxIUePLhaX-lWJ2h9OOICNXaPTiM3ExVXFs2ya8I6qXWylJacnTlUxN/w320-h238/Shankar+Shambhu.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shankar Shambhu Qawwal</td></tr></tbody></table>Fareedi Sb’s opponents were to be
the two wonderfully talented brothers from Aligarh, <b>Shankar Shambhu Qawwal</b>. The
two brothers had been classically trained by <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qQQ1_3aBLU">Ustad Chand Khan</a> </span>of the Delhi Gharana among others. Blessed with <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4i_lFg_oFBI">sibling harmonies</a></span> that could put the Everly brothers
to shame, the singer-instrumentalist brothers had a refined, saccharine sweet style
of performing Qawwali. Since they didn’t belong to any Qawwal gharana, they
came to national prominence by the dint of perseverance and hard work, and by
1955, were performing Qawwalis and ghazals all over India, as well as in
various Hindi films. By 1961, they were established and popular qawwals, and
were expected to give tough competition to the Pakistani visitors.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWsDshLWrp_1K1MgFYzu8aWmc4ZgP2r4LR1UUyykcPDubpOJyGN6kSfep-Xw0qmTp0zZZx46pkwFNWFQsUjJMbZGS-Z4UzQBJIe6Q_o6nfU8FN9UcGde4n2Xto_wKrJvT3kLaLU67RGnk/s2048/21st+Feb+Advertisement.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWsDshLWrp_1K1MgFYzu8aWmc4ZgP2r4LR1UUyykcPDubpOJyGN6kSfep-Xw0qmTp0zZZx46pkwFNWFQsUjJMbZGS-Z4UzQBJIe6Q_o6nfU8FN9UcGde4n2Xto_wKrJvT3kLaLU67RGnk/w206-h320/21st+Feb+Advertisement.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newspaper ad for <br />Wednesday, 21st February</td></tr></tbody></table>The venue chosen for the
‘muqabla’ was the now defunct “Rang Bhavan” amphitheater, with the date set for
a Wednesday, the 21st of February 1961. Advertisements to the
effect were published in local newspapers, particularly the Urdu press.
However, the hype was so great, and the clamor for tickets so intense that the
organizers had to think fast and shift the event to a larger arena and a later
date, one that fell on a weekend, since the event was expected to last well
into the night. The arena chosen was one of Bombay’s largest, the floodlit
Bombay Provincial Hockey Association ground. To add luster to the ‘muqabla’,
the leading lights of the Bombay film industry were added to the event. Om Prakash, the erstwhile Lahori, now Bombay’s
foremost character actor would be the Master of Ceremonies. The matinee idols <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJNRyWh30jE">Rajendra Kumar</a> </span>and <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ES5yOtqQGks"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7GnM_z-NEdJXMOi34byU26N42UsIwY5xfNVDYZzwLOqnKeto69sLA1WOH1c5ANbzoFC_Rmjw1KwKokYaDs860DipQENubr4Q7xXSjmw7hP2gDxVIL6PNX0HP7R3fWGlhY1dfgrbH2x89/s2048/21st+Feb+Advertisement+2.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1265" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7GnM_z-NEdJXMOi34byU26N42UsIwY5xfNVDYZzwLOqnKeto69sLA1WOH1c5ANbzoFC_Rmjw1KwKokYaDs860DipQENubr4Q7xXSjmw7hP2gDxVIL6PNX0HP7R3fWGlhY1dfgrbH2x89/w198-h320/21st+Feb+Advertisement+2.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newspaper ad for<br />Wednesday 21st February</td></tr></tbody></table>Pradeep Kumar</a> </span>would be the judges, along with the superb music directors <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRbBORKhGYg">Ravi</a></span> and <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOSyJOhg2Tc">Madan Mohan</a></span>,
and the wonderful lyricist <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qN1vvH74y1I">Chitragupt</a></span>. And to award
the prize to the winning Qawwals, the guest of honor would be K. Asif, fresh
off his monumental triumph as the director of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyY58BNhn64">Mughal-e-Azam</a>. The prizes
included a gold medal, a handsome silver trophy and a monumental garland that,
according to Fareedi Sb’s son “was especially crafted in Bangalore and took two
people to carry”.<div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p>The advertisements for the event
are wonderful historical time-capsules. One references the recently drawn India
– Pakistan cricket match and assures readers that the Qawwali muqabla will prove
to be just as exciting. Another features a testimonial for Fareedi Sb from
Dilip Kumar, who is said to have “swayed in ecstasy” upon hearing Fareedi Sb’s
qawwali. The fact that Fareedi Sb was Fateh Ali – Mubarak Ali’s shagird is
mentioned repeatedly in the advertisements, as are the lovely monikers for both
the qawwal parties. Fareedi Sb is the ‘Aftab-e-Qawwali’ – the blazing sun of
the firmament of Qawwali, while Shankar Shambhu Qawwal are the ‘Mahtab-e-Qawwali’
– the glowing moon of the Qawwali sky. I find these metaphors rather apt, as
they quite accurately describe the two parties’ contrasting performance styles;
Fareedi Sb’s fiery, incandescent style contrasted with the calmer, more serenely pleasant, iridescent style of Shankar Shambhu Qawwal. There is also a response to those who seemed to think the event would be cancelled for one reason or the other, with the the ad declaiming: "Who says there won't be a competition? A competition will take place, it MUST take place !."</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPpJXpkKJtOqqTMpxOoNJjiLnkof5eKswvG1TCA6H0-tfh2FftTwNpojSsVj0vXfDziLL0P7f8mFhX5h7slkNhyUImqpM5nNhJqOEaXFGBs7EN6dUPHuzKXoap2UgQYz_pPtChTMuNUQL7/s2048/25th+Feb+Advertisement.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1328" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPpJXpkKJtOqqTMpxOoNJjiLnkof5eKswvG1TCA6H0-tfh2FftTwNpojSsVj0vXfDziLL0P7f8mFhX5h7slkNhyUImqpM5nNhJqOEaXFGBs7EN6dUPHuzKXoap2UgQYz_pPtChTMuNUQL7/w416-h640/25th+Feb+Advertisement.jpg" width="416" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newspaper advertisement for the muqabla on the revised date<br />Saturday, 25th February 1961</td></tr></tbody></table><div><div><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfMmvGOSBY4j6J_IfjQSkvYdsZoZNewfehVM0oUIrAxJIl8bjgm-jJnkx1mjaH0lDFZiJk3ogHSWwFVFel_BO9uz9u4E__vP_M0u95I7kiwXmYBhSDfx2HtTo_rKhXPWyr6msnOJS7HvJB/s2048/25th+Feb+Advertisement+2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfMmvGOSBY4j6J_IfjQSkvYdsZoZNewfehVM0oUIrAxJIl8bjgm-jJnkx1mjaH0lDFZiJk3ogHSWwFVFel_BO9uz9u4E__vP_M0u95I7kiwXmYBhSDfx2HtTo_rKhXPWyr6msnOJS7HvJB/w640-h400/25th+Feb+Advertisement+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newspaper advertisement for the revised date<br />Saturday, 25th February 1961</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhleCxjEop8Nl8hB41dCTeWgbMZJ8DNxV_nsJbMjCdg_h8e0YiAeW_R1SMeGACfoIqht43Qt4-D5XJhQd9VKIcsWg4NMpL4W4WHPbFVZrKQxjCFbnLKu6gXxMiI2cQZeDtINC_-y-mL5ZR2/s2048/Muqabla+Stage.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1371" data-original-width="2048" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhleCxjEop8Nl8hB41dCTeWgbMZJ8DNxV_nsJbMjCdg_h8e0YiAeW_R1SMeGACfoIqht43Qt4-D5XJhQd9VKIcsWg4NMpL4W4WHPbFVZrKQxjCFbnLKu6gXxMiI2cQZeDtINC_-y-mL5ZR2/w640-h429/Muqabla+Stage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of the stage<br />The competing parties on either side</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUHt29Ik1mXE1qTckm6WmXXFmzIMCz6C1afN7S03J4Hfsr1mZY5wBLICS_PIdSHh6RiDNmzhvoyoS4QI5mUPi_JeDq4ajhlBIKeSIIPg2e0OGCGPBV7MLz-FYZrYhH0z6HrpSoMcyjSSy/s2048/Rasheed+and+Co+Close+Up.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1354" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUHt29Ik1mXE1qTckm6WmXXFmzIMCz6C1afN7S03J4Hfsr1mZY5wBLICS_PIdSHh6RiDNmzhvoyoS4QI5mUPi_JeDq4ajhlBIKeSIIPg2e0OGCGPBV7MLz-FYZrYhH0z6HrpSoMcyjSSy/w640-h426/Rasheed+and+Co+Close+Up.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi and Party</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHKpYfSExA0mR6ZtcKl5sB4hz3fn8TXS9NSk_Fh1WL0q_dT6fvI2ln7QDfO4_N6xT_wEpig3YcP3vmZGX0vRziBwDT8B5btMWRmMBWdfB8_5Qjxr-kxhNgMkAMzAmInhnveTjA_bWxQUN/s2048/Audience+Shot.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1389" data-original-width="2048" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHKpYfSExA0mR6ZtcKl5sB4hz3fn8TXS9NSk_Fh1WL0q_dT6fvI2ln7QDfO4_N6xT_wEpig3YcP3vmZGX0vRziBwDT8B5btMWRmMBWdfB8_5Qjxr-kxhNgMkAMzAmInhnveTjA_bWxQUN/w640-h435/Audience+Shot.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of the audience<br />On Prakash and K. Asif in front row</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmshYpgVBTmbE5e9Zi6NL5pGfHaRfQqNJ2vXvGLUHDmmg2T5SS7TYN67WsUBPvfVsmpu2jsykAuKS5J5MsLRyT55g38JkLnWvbLSxFORkjwXJpKfrteJWxu3fl7uQzP2AsqUTKAwX8JJw/s2048/Cine+Advance+Draw+News.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1252" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmshYpgVBTmbE5e9Zi6NL5pGfHaRfQqNJ2vXvGLUHDmmg2T5SS7TYN67WsUBPvfVsmpu2jsykAuKS5J5MsLRyT55g38JkLnWvbLSxFORkjwXJpKfrteJWxu3fl7uQzP2AsqUTKAwX8JJw/s320/Cine+Advance+Draw+News.jpg" width="196" /></a></div></div>On the night of the 25th February 1961, the
BPHA ground was packed to capacity, with 10,000 people in the audience. The front row was reserved for the A-listers, the host, the judges and the guest of honor, K. Asif. A large stage was
set, covered with white chandni, with two raised platforms installed for the
Qawwal parties and the MC’s mic in the middle. The ‘muqabla’ lasted late into
the night, with each Qawwal party performing four pieces. Including a ghazal, a
manqabat, a naat and a traditional semi-classical piece. The muqabla lasted
well into the night and the results were finally announced sometime after
midnight. And this is where the account begins to vary. A newspaper clipping published in the Cine Advance weekly on 3rd March 1961 mentions that the event ended in a draw, with both parties
being awarded a gold medal by K. Asif. Fareedi Sb’s son, however, maintained
that it was his late father who was adjudged the winner of the competition. He
also shared a photo that seemed to substantiate his claim, featuring Fareedi
Sb, the fabled ‘two-person’ garland around his neck, receiving a silver trophy
with the floodlights shining behind him. I’m inclined to believe the latter
version over the newspaper version of the story for two reasons; the first
being the photograph. The second reason will be made clear at the end of this
post. It is quite a long-shot, but if anyone reading this was at the competition, or knows someone who was at the competition, a corroboration of the result would be much appreciated. In fact, any scrap of information about the event would be more than welcome, including the holy grail - an audio recording of part, or as long as I'm indulging in wishful thinking, whole of the muqabla. Whatever the result, Fareedi Sb continued his triumphant tour of India for a few more months,
which featured a memorable performance at <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CMi5FsQHMe9/">Dilip Kumar’s Pali Hill bungalow</a></span>, an event which again was attended by quite a few members of the Bombay film
fraternity.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolQk7rwx_RIsYdpcn0Gcf75LYFuyaL2R6vQX1r0IFGIwK1ZYKLjGNeSZuJw5D4XcnWRBxPU4JAIk3u1_L1B6c60rvIf5QNQ1ENySVkj_Lx07uDW5CR4LDE54Pq43oralwn4kWDQ54Zgi9/s2048/Recieving+Medal+Close+Up.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1354" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolQk7rwx_RIsYdpcn0Gcf75LYFuyaL2R6vQX1r0IFGIwK1ZYKLjGNeSZuJw5D4XcnWRBxPU4JAIk3u1_L1B6c60rvIf5QNQ1ENySVkj_Lx07uDW5CR4LDE54Pq43oralwn4kWDQ54Zgi9/w640-h424/Recieving+Medal+Close+Up.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Receiving the Gold Medal from K. Asif</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0S9G-zNM7ieXGoNssHGQwrZTaE21LLFODHQEPQGjfR03CNfFCLfXiXXFGy0jWdn9i2nawgGoC5ONB6x3tl9zuTaTeHvIzIq7Ezh6mVAhyEVzw6xLA2EzWcLgnq-Yp_yguunuunwnwptA0/s2048/Trophy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0S9G-zNM7ieXGoNssHGQwrZTaE21LLFODHQEPQGjfR03CNfFCLfXiXXFGy0jWdn9i2nawgGoC5ONB6x3tl9zuTaTeHvIzIq7Ezh6mVAhyEVzw6xLA2EzWcLgnq-Yp_yguunuunwnwptA0/w426-h640/Trophy.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Receiving the winner's Silver Cup </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><span style="text-align: justify;">Fareedi Sb returned to Pakistan
in March 1961, and spent the next 24 years performing incessantly until his
death in 1985 at the age of 63. Shankar Qawwal, the elder one of his erstwhile
competitors, had passed away a few months earlier in a road accident. The
younger brother, Shambhu Qawwal, passed away in 1989. Their respective
accompanists have also passed away by now, as have the glittering stars
involved in the event. The muqabla, a major event in the lives of both Qawwals,
and a unique event in the history of 20</span><sup style="text-align: justify;">th</sup><span style="text-align: justify;"> century Qawwali, is now a
long-forgotten memory. The few meticulously preserved photographs and newspaper
clippings are all the mementos that remain of the event that attracted a crowd
of ten thousand and featured some of the most important film personalities of
the 1960s. The real shame is that there’s little chance of any recording from
the muqabla still existing. If any were to be found, I’m sure it would be
absolutely electric. There are recordings of Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali’s
performances at the Birla Hall, Bombay in 1958 where the magic of their performance
is magnified by the roars and applause of the crowd. I’m sure any recordings of
the muqabla would have been similarly rousing, but for the life of me I haven’t been able to
find any. As I've said above, if any qawwali aficionado is lucky enough to possess any recordings,
I hope they come to light someday. But until then, what follows will have to
suffice.</span></div><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY-Gx_twQZTTMKg_uOmBrRUmsJIntkd5UrzbNS0j3kyEK9zPj3RpnjcRRHYiAES9F4lAIWMd-dcso-7la_9wFk_G0Jq8BuX7cEd6anW8VsJdAFON6T4aUdIzJlLnvuy03G8EgkUlG_tCr/s789/Handwritten+Story.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="789" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY-Gx_twQZTTMKg_uOmBrRUmsJIntkd5UrzbNS0j3kyEK9zPj3RpnjcRRHYiAES9F4lAIWMd-dcso-7la_9wFk_G0Jq8BuX7cEd6anW8VsJdAFON6T4aUdIzJlLnvuy03G8EgkUlG_tCr/w640-h624/Handwritten+Story.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A brief handwritten account of the muqabla<br />From Fareedi Sb's family archive</td></tr></tbody></table></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In the absence of any live
recordings from the night of the muqabla, we’ll have to make do with the next
best thing. Qawwals in Pakistan and India share a wide repertoire, featuring a large
number of canonical texts. As a result, one can listen to and compare the
renditions of the same kalam by different artists (<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2011/03/of-my-favorite-qawwali-so-far-20.html">something</a> that used to be the <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2011/10/of-shattered-soul-and-lifeless-heart.html">stock-in-trade</a> of this <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2009/12/of-my-favorite-qawwali-so-far.html">blog</a>, I’ll be the first to admit). There are a handful of pieces of Qawwali that have been performed by both Fareedi Sb and Shankar
Shambhu Qawwal, and they also happen to be the typical pieces that a
traditional qawwali performance comprises of. With a little bit of imagination,
and in the absence of any setlists to guide us, we can attempt to virtually
reconstruct the muqabla by listening to the two competing groups’ renditions of
the same kalam. And this is where I can explain the second reason for why I
think it was Fareedi Sb and his party who emerged the eventual winners of the
competition. Let the muqabla begin!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><span dir="LTR"></span><b>Qaul – Mun Kunto Maula – Hz Amir Khusrau (RA)<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The Qaul is the piece that
traditionally serves as the beginning of the Qawwali performance, so it’s
fitting to begin this virtual muqabla with renditions of Hz Amir Khusrau’s
seminal creation. I have devoted a <span style="color: red;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2010/09/of-qaul.html">previous blog-post</a> </span>to
how various artists have put their distinctive stamp on the traditional piece
(eagle-eared readers will find one of these two performances in that piece as well).
The contrast between the two parties’ renditions of the Qaul couldn’t be more
striking. Shankar Shambhu Qawwal sing a beautiful, plaintive and stately Qaul,
with Shankar Qawwal’s superbly sweet voice shining in a plaintive alaap, and in
the brief murki’s he takes during the tarana. It’s a lovely, self-contained
performance that swells and eddies beautifully, before clocking-out at the four-minute
mark.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In his typical brash style, Fareedi
Sb dispenses with all niceties at the very beginning, announcing that other
qawwals know jack-squat and he alone knows the correct way to perform the Qaul. He
will announces that he shall perform the Qaul in Raag Bhopali, in Teen-taal, a rhythmic cycle of 16
beats. What follows is an absolute tour-de-force spanning a quarter of an hour.
Fareedi Sb and Co weave magic with their takraars, the sudden changes in tempo,
and the imperceptibly steady increase in intensity as the piece picks up steam.
In terms of length, Fareedi Sb’s performance is 11 times longer than Shankar
Shambhu’s rendition. In terms of sheer power, it’s at least a hundred times
more potent. The first round of the muqabla goes to the Qawwals from Pakistan.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><span dir="LTR"></span><b>Naat - Sallalaho Alaihi Wasallam – Sharib Lakhnavi / Bedam
Shah Warsi<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A hamd or na’at is generally the
second item in a Qawwali performance, and both the Qawwal parties were adept at
performing them. Shankar Shambhu’s <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP04jKX15Gk">na’ats</a></span> are
superb examples of the genre, cheerful in their arrangements, steeped in
‘aqeedat’ and dripping with musicality. Fareedi Sb’s <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPB9NIAotOY">na’ats</a></span>
are more plaintive affairs, gradually building to a haal-inducing crescendo and
evoking feelings of love and longing for the Prophet (SAW). The na’at selection
for this ‘muqabla’ recreation is a bit of a cop-out, since I couldn’t find a
na’at in my collection that had been performed by both the parties. I settled
for the next best thing, na’ats that share the same ‘radeef’, the salutation to
the Prophet “Sallalaho Alaihi Wasallam”. Shankar Shambhu Qawwal begin their
rendition with a unique quatrain that praises the Ahl-e-Bait (RA) while
incorporating the verses of Sura-e-Ikhlas, The Quran’s 112<sup>th</sup>
chapter. It’s a studio-recorded piece, with a beginning, a middle and an end.
Throughout the recording, the bansuri, the clarinet and the sarangi faithfully follow
Shankar Qawwal’s lovely, lilting voice. As with most studio-recorded 3.5-minute
qawwalis, it’s likely a blueprint for an expanded, more elaborate live version.
One can guess where the takraars would be placed in the mehfil performance, but
unfortunately, that is a version that only exists so far in the imagination.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Fareedi Sb’s rendition, once
again, is the exact opposite. It’s a mehfil performance that takes its time in
unfolding its wonders. The zor-daar sazeena alone is twice the length of the
entire Shankar Shambhu rendition. The sound quality is very iffy, and gets
scratchier as the recording progresses. The recording also ends abruptly,
before the Qawwals have sung the whole na’at through, so we’re left imagining
the crescendo that never arrives. The kalam is Bedam Shah Warsi (RA)’s
immortal, magical na’at, sharing the same radeef as Sharib Lakhnavi’s na’at as
performed by Shankar Shambhu Qawwal. As is his wont, Fareedi Sb turns explores
the pathos and longing in Bedam’s verses, embellishing it with Punjabi girahs
that lead the listeners to sigh “These are matters are too painful Fareedi Sb,
they’re better left unsaid!” The takraars on the second misra’ of the first
verse are the stuff of dreams. It’s probably my favorite rendition ever of this
superlative na’at, and hands the second round convincingly to Fareedi Sb and
Co.</p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><span dir="LTR"></span><b>Ghazal – Itna Shadeed Gham Hai – Sardar Abdur Rab Nishtar<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After the manqabat and the na’at,
the next item on the Qawwali setlist is usually a ghazal with spiritual
undertones. The ghazal sung by both the qawwals is a beautiful one by the
distinguished politician and accomplished poet Sardar Abdur Rab Nishtar. The
mat’la is striking in its simplicity, and the maq’ta presents a uniquely
refreshing take on the concept of redemption and salvation. For a change, Shankar
Shambhu’s performance of this ghazal is not a studio recording, which allows
the brothers some breathing space to showcase the finer aspects of their
performance styles. Shambhu Qawwal gets to ably support his brother’s vocal
flights and taankari with his understated yet melodious voice. Shankar Qawwal
milks the verses for all the emotive elements he can extract, and lets his
voice trill and dive to wonderful effect. He even manages to insert a lovely
girah, which would’ve been impossible in a 3 minute 38 second recording that
would have filled one side of a 78 RPM record. Listening to this rendition, it
appears that the brothers might finally catch up with Fareedi Sb and notch up a
point for their side in the muqabla.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Long before this virtual muqabla
made it to the blog, it has been played out repeatedly on my car stereo, with
the missus being the impartial judge who usually adjudicates. There was an advantage
to getting her opinion on these qawwalis, because she’s not blinkered by
admiration for Fareedi Sb as I am (though she is getting there), and so can give
her verdict as a lay listener. When I played the Shankar Shambhu version of the
ghazal to her for the first time, she agreed with me that it was sung
beautifully, and with a lot of feeling. When I played her the version of this
ghazal performed by Fareedi Sb and Co, she gave her verdict before the first
two minutes of the recording were up. Her words, “There’s more pathos and
feeling in Fareedi Sb’s rendition of the word “Itna” than there is in the entire
Shankar Shambhu performance.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. The
audience’s haye-haye’s and wah-wahs provide additional proof that Fareedi Sb’s
delivery, coupled with the intoxicating tarz, are too heady a combination for
Shankar Shambhu to match.</p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><span dir="LTR"></span><b>Rung – Aaj Rung Hai – Hz Amir Khusrau (RA)<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The rendition of the Rang
traditionally signals the end of a Qawwali performance, where the Qawwals and
the audience rise from their seated positions and the performance ends in the
recollection of the festival of Basant at the shrine of Hz Nizamuddin Auliya
(RA). The “shajra” or lineage of the Chishti saints is recited as the audience joins
the qawwals in paying their respects to the saints. It’s usually an up-tempo
piece, serving to bookend the qawwali mehfil on a high note. Shankar Shambhu Qawwal,
again saddled with a rather anemic studio recording (please, if any reader has
any mehfil recordings of the brothers, do share), perform a rather
straightforward run-through of the traditional ‘Rung’ as attributed to Hz Amir (RA),
respectfully singing the shajra, with Shankar Qawwal contributing a couple of
lovely, albeit brief taans.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Fareedi Sb’s version begins with
a lovely Purbi dohra, before he launches into the Rung in a mehfil recording.
Unrestricted by the 3-and-a-half-minute limit of a studio recording, he dwells
on each verse for the extra minute or so that lends it extra heft. In what is a
relatively straightforward performance by his standards, the only
embellishments he adds are the names of Hz Pir Mehr Ali Shah (RA) and Baba
Abdul Ghafoor (RA) to the shajra and the takraar at the end of the kalam. It’s
a simple performance, no frills, and a fitting conclusion to this virtual muqabla.
As for the winner of this round, I’m rather undecided and will leave it for the
readers to decide.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’ll be the first to admit that
the brothers from Aligarh were terribly shortchanged by my only possessing
studio recordings of their performances, thus being unable to present them in
the Qawwal’s natural habitat, a mehfil. Still, a comparison of the above four
recordings bears out the testimony of Fareedi Sb’s son, claiming that it was
his father that actually won the muqabla. Regardless of the eventual winners,
it must have been a once-in-a-lifetime event, and what I wouldn’t give to hear
a recording of it, even a snippet (hint-hint once again, any collectors reading). In the
absence of any recordings from the muqabla, let us be thankful for the precious
few mementoes that remain, the fading newspaper clippings, the carefully preserved photographs, and the oral histories that are slowly disappearing. And lest we forget, it’s through the efforts
of listeners who taped the mehfils, recorded off the radio, or made copies of
the vinyl 78s and EPs, that we are privileged to hear masters of their craft
like Fareedi Sb and Shankar Shambhu Qawwal today. May God bless those that performed, and those that preserved the performances so that we may experience some of the magic, even after all these decades.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p></div></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="400" msallowfullscreen="" src="https://app.box.com/embed/s/tfjwg4l86g72x490if2lbwktkp1elltu?showItemFeedActions=false&showParentPath=false&sortColumn=name&view=list" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-87809092573712671862018-06-20T21:29:00.003+05:002018-06-20T22:53:00.439+05:00...Of Yusufi Saheb<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am somewhat notorious for prevaricating when put on the spot, especially when asked to give my opinion on a given subject. The prevarication doubles when the given subject is something close to my heart, for I try to keep my likes and dislikes to myself unless I am absolutely sure that I am either preaching to the choir or have found someone who is, in the immortal words of an 18th century missionary in Africa, just one hearty Hallelujah away from seeing the Light. Ask me about my favorite anything, and I'll either hum and haw, or provide a Top-5, Top-7 or Top-10 list certified to throw anyone off the scent. The reason is probably that it's very hard for me to settle on a single favorite in any of my favorite things. Depending on the occasion, the mood or the company, there is a lot that I can watch or listen to and consider it my favorite for that particular time, place or set of persons.<br />
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The only thing I have never prevaricated about are my favorite authors. My favorite author in the English language, for as long as I can remember, has been P.G. Wodehouse. My favorite author in Urdu has been, for as long as I can remember, Mushtaq Ahmed Yusufi. The former had passed away 12 years before I was born. The latter has passed away today. </div>
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I discovered both of them in my early teens, digging up their books from the <a href="https://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2007/04/of-breaking-evenalmost.html" target="_blank">Big Red Trunk</a> that I have written about previously. Now that I think about it, both share a number of remarkable similarities. Both of them were universally acknowledged in their lifetimes as the inimitable masters of humorous writing in their respective languages. Not only that, both were acclaimed as the finest craftsmen of their respective languages, able to produce sentences and passages of surpassing beauty and delicacy. Both outranked everyone else when it came to producing an epigram that could retain its freshness outside the pages it was published in. The wealth of literary allusions in their work belied the depth of learning and scholarship that formed the bedrock of their comic edifices.</div>
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Both had a past in the banking profession (a checkered and brief one in case of Plum, a long and distinguished one in case of Yusufi Sb). Both shared an uncanny physical resemblance, both <a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c8/PGWodehouse.jpg" target="_blank">in</a> <a href="https://scontent.fisb5-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/180636_199708073387945_6853076_n.jpg?_nc_cat=0&oh=14f230faad4a44e94607841428051483&oe=5BB2A4C5" target="_blank">youth</a> and especially so in <a href="https://media.newyorker.com/photos/590950ec1c7a8e33fb38a0ec/master/w_649,c_limit/jeeves-and-wooster.jpg" target="_blank">old</a> <a href="https://scontent.fisb5-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/12346545_1295254853833256_8211995863647265889_n.png?_nc_cat=0&oh=ae44f1a949e9f2e743cf29d4192d639b&oe=5BB947D2" target="_blank">age</a>. From their writing, from their interviews and the recollections of those who had known them, it was clear that the warmth, the joy and the light permeating their writing emanated from a personality that was warm and joyful despite the prevalent cynicism of the age. Finally, with Yusufi Sb's passing today at the age of 95, he also shares with Plum the long innings that saw them outlive friends, competitors and detractors to become the grandest of Grand Old Men.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFxbZuXASWbhusPjvWt9X2lybVh3fShjfdyRcBFUOEQZHO4rnWGIVse5ksAvyQNw_QeEJGnUAZBiEqQJpNwutOPpftcma8z1rIHue2LTg6S7tScr6OYwKFSzLzveGB8FEAyuir-4ssHow/s1600/35710131_10216127077994985_6779842533728976896_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="893" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFxbZuXASWbhusPjvWt9X2lybVh3fShjfdyRcBFUOEQZHO4rnWGIVse5ksAvyQNw_QeEJGnUAZBiEqQJpNwutOPpftcma8z1rIHue2LTg6S7tScr6OYwKFSzLzveGB8FEAyuir-4ssHow/s200/35710131_10216127077994985_6779842533728976896_n.jpg" width="185" /></a>That is where the similarities end. While I have extolled the virtues of Wodehouse previously on the blog, Yusufi Sb's paeans have remained unsung. Where Plum stayed well clear of anything resembling seriousness, Yusufi Sb portrayed both the joys and sorrows of life, couching the blows in such superlatively beautiful Urdu that the impact was felt subliminally, a crucial moment or so after the reader had marveled at the sprightliness and alacrity of the prose. For me, the emotional impact of some of his 'humorous' essays has been greater than any passage written by the more 'serious' Urdu authors. The fact that he was terribly impecunious in publishing his writing also gave each passage the quality of rarity and painstaking craftsmanship.</div>
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The fact that Plum passed away 12 years before I was born prevented me from ever being able to perform the ultimate act of idolatry, namely to see my favorite author in person and perhaps to express my gratitude for being a constant source of joy. Perhaps one day I might be able to make the pilgrimage to <a href="http://www.litkicks.com/Remsenburg" target="_blank">Remsenburg, Long Island</a> and pay my respects to Plum, but for now that's still an unchecked item on my bucket list.<br />
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On the other hand, I can rest in the comfort of the memory that I did in fact personally pay homage to Plum's Pakistani counterpart, a day that will count as one of (if not THE) greatest of my life. On the occasion of the centennial celebrations of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, I was able to not only see Yusufi Sb speak, but was able to gather the courage to talk to him, get his autograph (for the younger readers, an autograph was an earlier, less infuriating alternative to the celebrity selfie) and finally, ask my father to take a photograph of me and Yusufi Sb. </div>
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His speech that day is etched in my memory, the autograph is one of my most prized possessions, and the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BkP74oEDjYK/" target="_blank">photograph</a> is a visual reminder that I needn't constantly ask myself if I was dreaming or if I actually did meet the finest Urdu writer of the 20th century.<br />
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<iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tQTq268n1Hw" width="560"></iframe>
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In one regard, Yusufi Sb's limited literary output puts him at an advantage over Wodehouse. While Plum's publications number more than a hundred, making the ability to own his<a href="http://www.overlookpress.com/collector-s-wodehouse-the-complete-set.html" target="_blank"> Collected Works</a> something of a daydream, Yusufi Sb's Collected Works are currently right in front of me on my bookshelf. I shall now stop writing and pick up the volume, open it at random and reacquaint myself with the Master.<br />
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Rest in peace Yusufi Sb.<br />
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</div>
Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-17522651672182574792017-11-05T18:08:00.000+05:002017-11-05T18:08:04.815+05:00...Of The Punjabi Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last two posts were devoted to an exploration of the
Ghazal, a centuries old poetic form popular across the Indo-Persianate region,
including the states of modern-day Central Asia. A number of famous ghazals
were sung by ghazal singers and traditional Qawwals, allowing for an interesting
comparison between the two musical forms. The distinct qualities of the ghazal;
it’s nuanced and multifaceted meanings, its rich store of similes and allusions
and its sensitive evocation of love and longing (both spiritual and temporal)
are self-evident in the hands of skilled musicians, regardless of their
preferred musical style. This post is somewhat similar to the last two in that it
deals with a very specific musical form and its interpretation by Qawwals. That
is where the similarities end.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The “<b>Mahiya</b>” is a distinct and very popular musical
form in the Punjab. It has been sung for centuries and is an integral part of
the region’s folk culture. It differs from the ghazal in several key aspects
however. The most important difference is that like most other folk musical
traditions of the world, Mahiyas aren’t written down and compiled in the form
of Diwans. They’re part of the oral tradition, passed down from performer to
performer, ever changing and ever evolving. They do not aspire to literary
greatness, with an absence of complex similes and allusions, alliteration and
nuanced meanings. The Mahiyas are written mostly by the people who sing them;
itinerant folk musicians. In fact, they’re a popular literary pastime in the
Punjab; I personally know at least half a dozen men and women in my village and
the surrounding areas who regularly write Mahiyas and either sing them
themselves, or pass them on to the ‘Mirasis’; members of the traditional
Punjabi musician clans.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the last post, I used an excerpt from Stephen Fry’s book
to describe a ghazal to the readers unfamiliar with it. Unfortunately, Mr. Fry
hasn’t written much about the Mahiya so I’ll have to use my own execrable
rhyming skills to construct a prototype English Mahiya. The word “Mahiya” means
“My beloved”, and has been ascribed to this musical form because it occurs very
frequently in it, as a recurring coda at the end of each verse. The verses
themselves follow a set pattern of three verses per stanza, with the first and
third verses rhyming. The first verse is thematically unrelated to the next
two, it’s main aim is simply to provide a rhyming counterpart to the third.
It’s usually an everyday observation, a random phrase or a non-sequitur,
something the singer has picked up from his everyday life. The second verse
begins expounding the main theme and the final verse is the pay-dirt, the
punchline and the soul of the entire stanza. So it goes, stanza upon stanza,
three verses unrelated to the previous ones as far as rhyming is concerned, but
in the same metre and expounding more or less the same theme. They’re sly, full
of lovely vernacular wordplay and rooted in the everyday slangs and idioms.
Here’s an example off the top of my head:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Two birds on a wire
my love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It ain’t any fever
that I’ve got<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I’m just burning with
desire my love!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The sky’s so blue my
love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You wouldn’t ignore
me this way<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
If your heart was
true my love!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Fresh fruit on a cart
my love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I don’t know how I’ll
survive<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
If you break my
heart, my love!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Children play with a
ball my love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I’ve been staring at
my phone all day<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Waiting for you to
call, my love.<o:p></o:p></div>
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P.S. the last stanza is a literal translation from one of
this year’s most popular Punjabi folk tunes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Mahiya has a number of similarities with the blues,
based on its interesting rhyme scheme, its use of everyday phrases and its
origins among the rural itinerant singing community. Blues like Robert
Johnson’s 32:20 blues, Howlin’ Wolf’s Smokestack Lightning and even songs like
Dylan’s Buckets of Rain remind me of Mahiyas. Like I wrote earlier, Mahiyas are
written solely in Punjabi/Seraiki. I don’t know of Mahiyas in any other
subcontinental language, with one remarkable exception. Fawad Zakariya has
written <a href="http://writtenencounters.blogspot.com/2017/02/baaghon-mein-paray-jhoolay-ustad-barkat.html"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: black;">a
wonderful post</span></a> about it on his blog which saves me from
waxing too eloquent about it. Suffice to say it’s one of the most famous and
most beautiful pieces of Pakistani music ever recorded. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One final illustrative example of a Mahiya before I go into
the meat of this post. The earliest recording of a Mahiya that I’ve been able
to dig up is from a brilliant, brilliant 1951 Folkways record titled “Folk
Music Of Pakistan”. Along with beautiful recordings of folk music from all
regions of Pakistan (including the erstwhile East Pakistan), it has a lovely
Mahiya duet by <b>Munawwar Sultana and Ali Bukhsh Zahoor</b>, two of the now forgotten
pioneers of the early Pakistani music industry. Ali Bukhsh Zahoor is one of my
favorite voices and I’m constantly looking for more recordings by him. The recording is Track 1 in the playlist embedded below.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With that, let’s get to the Qawwali portion of this post. As
Mahiyas are a Punjabi musical form, most of the Qawwals featured here are
Punjabi, with one rather quaint exception. Most of the Qawwals sing the same
verses, or at least various permutations of the same verses. This signifies a
shared wellspring of folk poetry that all of them draw from. Most of the recordings
are snippets from Mehfils and aren’t professionally recorded, so be prepared
for incomplete recordings, with scratchy, imperfect sound quality. Another
interesting thing is that since most Mahiyas are directed towards a specific
“Beloved” and the Qawwals are performers in the Sufi tradition, the Beloved
here is either God, the Prophet (S.A.W) or a specific spiritual master or Pir. There’s
only one performance per artist, as with most previous Qawwali posts. That’s
enough exposition I think, let’s begin.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>1. Koi Chittay Way Rupay Mahiya – Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Ustad Salamat Khan’s voice would be considered divinely
crafted for the Mahiya if not for the fact that it seemed divinely crafted for
whatever he chose to sing, be it ghazal, kafi or classical. This Mehfil
recording from the late 1970s is as perfect an example of a traditional Punjabi
musical performance that you can get. The earthy beauty of Salamat Ali Khan’s
voice as he sings the first verse of a beautiful Punjabi doha, Ustad Bakhshi
Khan’s pathos soaked voice repeating the first verse, that makes even Salamat
Khan utter an ‘Aha!’, and the powerhouse vocals of Mubarak Ali Khan as he
hijacks the 2<sup>nd</sup> verse from Salamat Ali Khan, and then Sadiq Ali
“Saddo” Khan’s sweet, melodious voice as he takes up the slack; all this
happens in the first two minutes of the recording, before they’ve even gotten
to the text of the Mahiya itself. Then Salamat Ali Khan says, “Now we’ll sing
some mixed verses from a Punjabi Mahiya for you” and they’re off. With a
non-sequitur about white banknotes, they launch into a beautiful Punjabi
masterclass. As with the rest of the Mahiyas in this post, the theme is of the
love of God, the Sufi concept of “Wahdat-ul-Wujood” along with pleas and
remonstrances to the Pir.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>2. Gal Kurta Shahiye Da – Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi
Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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When I wrote earlier that the Mahiya suffers from “an
absence of complex similes and allusions, alliteration and nuanced meanings”, I
didn’t realize that in the hands of an absolute master like Fareedi Sb, a
Mahiya could contain all of the above and much more. In this recording, Fareedi
Sb isn’t accompanied by his brother Agha Majeed, so there is a dearth of
beautiful taans and sargams. Instead, the accompaniment is provided by a truly
wonderful second vocalist who takes the lead in converting a simple Mahiya into
a grand exposition of Sufi ideals including the search for God and the Truth,
the concept of ‘Wahdat-ul-Wujood and the elusive nature of Divine love. The
lovely ‘volte face’ by Fareedi Sb at the 12-minute mark takes the theme to a
whole different place altogether. It’s a pure ‘Khanqahi’ performance with
superlative, unmatched Punjabi girahbandi. It’s interesting (and very rare) to
see Fareedi Sb take the backseat and let his co-vocalist drive the performance,
but that’s exactly what happens in the first half of the performance, which is
essentially a long series of stupendous Punjabi, Urdu, Purbi and Farsi girahs
on a single theme. For someone like me who adores girahbandi, this performance
is a diamond-mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>3. Do Zulfaan Challe Ve Challe – Maulvi Ahmed Hassan
Akhtar Hassan Bheranwale Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Next is a fully realized “studio” performance of a Mahiya by
Maulvi Ahmed Hassan, Maulvi Akhtar Hassan and Co. They are accompanied by a
lovely Clarinet, with the voices of all the vocalists taking center stage one
by one to expound on the theme of love of the Prophet (S.A.W). I’ve written at
length at the unpolished beauty of Maulvi Akhter Hassan’s voice and I needn’t
go into it again. He’s in top form here and is ably assisted by the entire
party. The girahs here are again absolutely brilliant, in Punjabi, Farsi and
Urdu. The themes are the same as those explored by the previous two performers
and indeed by those that follow. It’s to the credit of Maulvi Akhter Hassan and
Party that they imbue these themes and lyrics with an entirely unique
freshness, vigor and vitality. The whole performance seems less like a series
of Mahiyas and more like a Na’at written by one of the Classical Punjabi poets,
an impression heightened by the use of the traditional Heer arrangement to
deliver a number of lovely Girahs near the end. It’s a lovely performance, that
leaves the listener amazed at the inventiveness and alacrity of the Qawwals. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>4. Sonay Da Kil Mahiya – Bahauddin Qutbuddin Qawwal
featuring Abdullah Manzoor Niazi Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The one Qawwali performance of a Mahiya by a non-Punjabi
artist in this post is an anomaly in more ways than one. The Qawwal Party of Ustad
Bahauddin Khan and Qutbuddin Khan included, for two decades, a young and rather
precocious singer who would later go on to become a brilliant Qawwal in his own
right. That young singer was Abdullah Manzoor Niazi who was part of his uncle
Bahauddin Khan’s party off and on from the early 70s to the end of the 1980s.
In addition to vocal duties, he was also part of the rhythm section, playing
the bongos (or a miniature version at least) and sitting in the front row. So
important was Abdullah in the greater scheme of things in the party that his
uncles let him lead the party in several recordings, themselves hanging back as
accompanists. This is one such recording in which young Abdullah is singing
Mahiyas with the voice of Qutbuddin Khan clearly audible among the
accompanists. There is a clear non-Punjabi accent which I find endearing, and
there is no attempt at trying to elicit deeper, more spiritual meanings from
the simple Punjabi poetry. Instead, the Qawwals do a straight sing-through of
around a dozen Mahiyas. What the performance lacks in raw emotion, it makes up
for in the sweetness of young Abdullah Niazi’s voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>5. Har Koi Sohna Ae – Ustad Muhammad Ali Fareedi Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The Qawwals are already well into their performance when
this recording begins, making the listener feel like they’ve jumped on a moving
train. But what a train, and what a journey! This recording is from the
tail-end of the venerable Muhammad Ali Fareedi’s career, when his son Abdur
Rahim had come into his own and was calling some of the shots. We start at the
takraar, and what a brilliant takraar, with the rhythm section chugging along
like Johnny Cash’s Tennessee Three. It’s clear that this Mahiya is being
performed as a Manqabat in the praise of a Pir. The themes are again those of
‘Wahdat-ul-Wujood’ with the Qawwals exploring the idea of discovering God
through temporal love. The verses her are those that have been sung in the
previous four selections, but it’s lovely to hear them embellished with new and
interesting girahs by the Ustad as well as his accompanists, including Abdur
Rahim Fareedi. It’s a testament to the elder Ustad’s command over the subjects
being sung and his mastery of girah-bandi that, near the end of the
performance, he successively uses an Arabic, Farsi and Urdu girah on the same
Punjabi verse. The performance ends all too soon, with a resounding final beat
of the dholak, leaving the passengers longing for further journeys on this
wonderful locomotive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>6. Koi Jora Pakkhiyaan Da – Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal (RA)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The final Mahiya in this post is also a journey well
in progress when the listener joins in. Stretching the train metaphor from the
previous selection, Haji Mahboob Sb is driving a steam locomotive at a
leisurely pace through beautiful rolling countryside. There is a beautiful sway
and an unhurried swing to the performance as Haji Mahboob Sb sings verse after
verse in praise of the Prophet (S.A.W). The fact that this Mahiya is sung as a
Naat may not be overtly obvious from the words, but the innate affection and
love in the singing makes the fact abundantly clear. Haji Sb was fond of
singing Mahiyas in his performance and there exist a number of recordings, with
each performance distinct from the others despite the Mahiya verses being the
same in most of them. The difference was down to Haji Sb’s superlative power to
evoke a staggering number of Spiritual meanings from a single text by altering
the tempo and arrangement of the composition as well as by using his matchless
girah-bandi. Even though a few verses in this Mahiya are to be found in the
previous five performances, the vast majority are totally unique, another
testament to the vastness of Haji Sb’s repertoire. The recording fades out
mid-performance, making the listener realize almost with a start, that the
meandering locomotive has dropped him off at his destination and moved on,
leaving behind a distant echo of its whistle.<br /></span></span><br />
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-73527015598664432812017-09-04T12:51:00.000+05:002017-09-04T13:08:24.685+05:00...Of The Two Streams - Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This is the second part of a rather long post featuring recordings of Ghazals by mainstream ghazal-singers and Qawwals, offering a contrasting view of the pre-eminent Urdu poetic and musical form of the last two to three centuries. Here we go!<br />
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<b>Poet: Aziz-ul-Hasan Majzoob/Majzoob Dakkani?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Saari Duniya Mujhe Kehti Tera Saudayi Hai<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg: Iftekhar Ahmed Nizami<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Qawwali Angg: Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The first ghazal in this second half is by a truly enigmatic
poet. I was initially unaware of the poet of this ghazal. I contacted Subhan
Ahmad Nizami, the grandson of Ustad Iftekhar Ahmad Nizami (and one of my
favorite Qawwals) and he told me that the poet was one Majzoob Dakkani. I
mentioned the name to a few gentlemen who are interested in some of the more
obscure poets but they had not heard of such a poet before. The only Majzoob
they’d heard of was one Sheikh Aziz-ul-Hasan Majzoob. Again, very little
biographical information was available about him but I’ve been able to piece
together a few facts. Majzoob passed away sometime in 1944. He had served in
the colonial bureaucracy at several important positions in District Saharanpur,
UP and had been conferred the title of Khan Bahadur by the Colonial government.
In addition to being a government servant and a poet, he was of a mystical bent
and used to sing his verses and occasionally break out in dance. A few of his
ghazals that I’ve read are very good, but there are precious few available.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first recording in this post is a bit of a cheat in that
it is sung by someone who was primarily a Qawwal. Ustad Iftekhar Ahmed Nizami
was, along with his cousins Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed, Bahauddin Khan and Manzoor
Ahmed Niazi, part of the original pre-1969 Manzoor Ahmad Niazi Qawwal party
(The Barri Party). He possessed a unique, rough-hewn and weather-beaten voice
that possessed a virile, earthy beauty. In the Barri Party recordings, his
voice is distinct and immediately grabs the listener’s attention. He passed
away at a relatively young age, leaving behind precious few recordings. The few
solo performances of his that remain were recorded at Mr. Zaheer Alam Kidvai’s wedding
ceremony. Here he sings some lovely ghazals and a couple of really sweet
dadras. The audio quality is iffy at best, however his unique style shines
through splendidly. It really is a lovely ghazal, and sung by Iftekhar Sb, it
literally sparkles!<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Qawwali rendition of this ghazal is by Agha Rasheed
Ahmad Fareedi. My deep appreciation and admiration of Fareedi Sb is not a
secret. I consider him one of the greatest Qawwals of the 20<sup>th</sup>
century and arguably the finest shagird of Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali. In this
recording, the party sings the kalam in a lovely arrangement based on a Raag
that sounds really familiar but one I can’t for the life of me seem to
recognize (Bhairvi?). The tarz is perfectly suited to Rasheed’s hefty voice,
allowing Majeed Ahmad Fareedi to weave his magical taans at will. Even though
the tempo picks up as the performance proceeds, the Qawwals are in no hurry
whatsoever, lingering on each verse, repeating it for good measure, building
takraar upon takraar. There is no girahbandi here, not even an opening
preamble. What it lacks in text, it makes up for in the quality of the taans;
there’s mellow taans, ghamak taans, and lovely Pahari style taans. It’s a 20-minute
express train-ride through the ghazal, with an expert engine driver at the
helm.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Poet: Anwar Mirzapuri</b><br />
<b>Ghazal: Main Nazar Se Pi Raha Hoon</b><br />
<b>Gayaki Angg: Iqbal Bano</b><br />
<b>Qawwali Angg: Maulvi Ahmed Hassan Akhter Hassan Bheranwale Qawwal</b><br />
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One enigmatic poet follows another. I have to admit that I know absolutely nothing about Anwar Mirzapuri. The only description I’ve found for him is “A poet very popular in Mushairas in India in the 50s and 60s.” Let’s leave it at that I guess.<br />
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Iqbal Bano was one of the queens of Pakistani music, lending her distinctive voice to innumerable ghazals and film songs that have become standards. In addition, she was an excellent light classical singer; her thumris in Tilak Kamod are especially lovely. Like her great contemporary Farida Khanum, her ghazals are marked by immaculate ‘talaffuz’, an understanding of the nuanced meanings of the kalam, and selection of arrangements that did not overshadow the text. This ghazal is no exception. She sings each verse almost lovingly, interspersed with short but excellent taans. One can almost imagine sitting in front of her, listening as she waves her left hand, plucking at invisible notes around her, entrancing the audience. It’s a short piece but a really lovely one.<br />
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The Qawwals performing this piece are those wonderful, exquisitely unpolished gems from Faisalabad, Maulvi Ahmed Hassan, his phenomenally talented son Maulvi Akhter Hassan (a voice if ever there was one), accompanied by Muhammad Mohsin and Zahid Hassan Bheranwale, with the voices of Maulvi Haider Hassan and Zameer-ul-Hassan somewhere in the mix. I’ve always had a grudge with whoever recorded this party (the otherwise brilliant Haji Hidayatulah I’m guessing) in that they usually didn’t adequately mic anyone except Maulvi Akhter Hassan. The result is that the rest of the voices lose their power a bit. But all that does is put Maulvi Akhter Hassan’s lovely voice front and center. This performance is one of my very favorite ones. The opening minute-and-a-half of the doha alone is worth the price of admission, as are the lovely short taans where Maulvi Akhter Hassan’s voice cracks so beautifully. You won’t find proper Urdu ‘talaffuz’ here, nor will you find sweet, classically trained voices. Instead, there are voices straight from the earth, striking, rough-hewn, powerful and absolutely beautiful.<br />
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<b>Poet: Faiz Ahmad Faiz</b><br />
<b>Ghazal: Dil Main Ab Yun</b><br />
<b>Gayaki Angg: Mashooq Ali Khan</b><br />
<b>Qawwali Angg: Muhammad Ahmad Warsi Rampuri Qawwal</b><br />
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Faiz is arguably the greatest and most popular Urdu poet of the 2nd half of the 20th Century, and one of the great poetic voices of the world. The beauty of his ghazals and the stark magnificence and tenderness of his nazms is known and loved wherever Urdu is spoken and understood. I don’t think I can do justice in one paragraph to the importance of Faiz’s poetry in my life. For as long as I can recall, there has been a copy of “Nuskha-haaye Wafa” at the side table and another in the bookshelf. There have always been half a dozen cassettes of Faiz in the car; his own recitations of his poetry, Abida Parveen’s renditions, Iqbal Bano’s renditions, Farida Khanum’s renditions and so forth. Some of the most important memories (and an extremely embarrassing one) of my life are associated with Faiz’s poetry. This lovely ghazal is an example of Faiz’s utter mastery over the classical aspects of this poetic form and his ability to imbue it with modern sentiment without violating its romantic core. Also, what a mat’la!<br />
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Mashooq Ali Khan sings the ghazal here. He was a Radio Pakistan artist from Karachi who performed from the 50s to the end of the 70s. His specialty seems to be ghazals and light classical pieces, although I have a qawwali recording of his which is rather lovely. His voice is somewhat similar to Nasir Jahan, the famous Na’at-khwan and Soz-khwan, it’s obviously aged and past its prime, but its flexibility and mild tremulousness is very endearing. In this recording the sarangi creates a lovely, wistful atmosphere and the simple Keherva taal by the tabla gives Mashooq Ali Khan’s voice a firm foundation to weave his magic, which he certainly does.<br />
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When I began taking a keener interest in Qawwali around ten years ago (Jeez! It’s been ten years!!) I was a tad nonplussed to find that Faiz’s poetry wasn’t represented at all in the Qawwali canon. This, despite the fact that Faiz had written a couple of pieces specifically as Qawwalis. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan had sung a lovely version of his Punjabi geet “Kidray Na Paindiyan Dassaan” but not as a Qawwali. There is an appreciable difficulty in translating Faiz’s more political and revolutionary verses to Qawwali but that still leaves a large body of work that has been left largely unexplored by Qawwals. The performance I’ve included in this selection was actually part of an active attempt to correct this long-standing oversight.<br />
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A few years ago, a rather interesting Qawwali mehfil was held in Delhi. The chief guest was the renowned Urdu scholar, Prof Gopi Chand Narang, with a number of luminaries in attendance. The aim was to recite a number of pieces by famous Farsi and Urdu poets. They couldn’t have chosen a better Qawwal than Ustad Muhammad Ahmad Warsi for such a mehfil. Warsi Sb is an acquired taste. His style is relaxed, languid, a tad dishevelled and loose, which might put off anyone who prefers Qawwals who stick to the taal and laye and don’t wander into digressions. But I love him. His performance of this ghazal is the perfect example of his unique style. He strays behind the beat one moment, catches up and races past it the next. The performance is slow, methodical and measured, and his style of girah-bandi is like no other Qawwal I’ve ever heard. If there can’t be more Faiz kalams in the Qawwali canon, at least the ones that are present are being sung by Ustad Muhammad Ahmad Warsi, and that’s fine by me.</div>
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<b>Poet: Qateel Shifai</b><br />
<b>Ghazal: Garmiye Hasrate Nakaam</b><br />
<b>Gayaki Angg: Zahida Parveen</b><br />
<b>Qawwali Angg: Agha Bashir Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal</b><br />
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Qateel Shifai is rightly acclaimed as the greatest lyricist in the history of Pakistani film. However, recognizing him only as a lyricist is a great disservice to his career as one of the pre-eminent Urdu ghazal poets of the 20th century. This was a burden borne by a number of great lyricist poets, including Sahir Ludhianvi and Kaifi Azmi; the burden of their film career overshadowing their serious poetic aspirations. Qateel however was recognized early on as an important modern Urdu poet. His ghazals are modern and were popular amongst the masses despite being molded in the framework of classical Urdu poetry. He started reciting and publishing his poetry before partition and remained an important figure of the Urdu literary landscape until his death in 2001. Two of his ghazals are included here.<br />
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If I were to name the single greatest voice I have ever heard, it would have to be Zahida Parveen. She is rightly acclaimed as the Empress of the Kafi. No one has sung the kalam of Hz Khwaja Ghulam Fareed (RA) with deeper understanding and more emotion. She was also a highly accomplished classical singer who had trained first under Ustad Ashiq Ali Khan of Patiala and later under Ustad Chotay Ghulam Ali Khan of the Kasur/Qawwal Bacchon Ka Gharana. Her khayal performances are hair-raisingly good, though very hard to come by. Her ghazals, recorded in the late ‘50s and the ‘60s, are singular, incomparable to any other singer before or since her. There are flights across three octaves, there are taans of exquisite beauty and staggering dexterity, the bol-baant is perfect and there is an uncanny awareness of the taal and the laye. Despite all that, the text of the ghazal is never neglected, never overburdened with vocal calisthenics. Zahida Parveen’s power shines through in everything she ever recorded, be it Kafi, Khayal or the ghazal shared here.<br />
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The Qawwal performing this ghazal is the great Agha Bashir Ahmad Qawwal. Agha Bashir was the elder brother of Agha rasheed Ahmad and Abdul Majeed Fareedi and was an excellent Qawwal. After Partition, he was employed at Radio Pakistan Lahore and eventually became Station Director, becoming known in the process as Agha Bahsir Ahmad Lahore-walay. His style is characterized by a powerful, rough voice and his astounding ghamak taans. He performed regularly for more than half a century and recorded a number of excellent performances for Radio Pakistan as well as EMI. This ghazal is also taken from one of his 1960s Radio Pakistan recordings. He is accompanied by a rather lovely and striking voice that I’d love to be able to put a name to. He doesn’t resort to girahbandi or too many takraars, giving the ghazal a run-through from start to finish without too many distractions. His trademark taans arrive after the four-minute mark.</div>
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<b>Ghazal: Tumhari Anjuman Se Utth Ke</b><br />
<b>Gayaki Angg: Fareeda Khanum</b><br />
<b>Qawwali Angg: Ustad Muhammad Ali Fareedi Qawwal</b><br />
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I’ve been listening to a lot of Fareeda Khanum lately, searching out deep cuts from the early decades of her career and every time I hear something new by her, I am stuck by the immensity of her talent. The sweetness of her voice, the perfection of her talaffuz and her mastery over ghazal singing are universally acknowledged, the result of her own innate talent coupled by years of rigorous training under her sister, the legendary Mukhtar Begum as well as Ustad Ashiq Ali Khan of Patiala. Since her arrival at the musical scene shortly after Partition, she has been at the very top of the Pakistani musical hierarchy, and one doesn’t need to wonder why. As just one example of her many talents, notice her exquisite and effortless sense of rhythm and tempo in this recording. When she sings, she seems almost oblivious of the tabla, but never does she lose the thread of the ‘taal’, landing each note perfectly on the rhythmic cycle. It’s a lovely performance by a superlative artist<br />
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Few Qawwals have had a longer or more impactful career than Ustad Muhammad Ali Fareedi. From the early 1930s till the late 1970s, he led a brilliant qawwal party that included his son Abdur Rahim among others. His influence is obvious on the generations of Pakpattan based Qawwals that share his surname, a nod to their devotion to and service at the shrine of Hz Baba Fariduddin Ganjshakar (RA). From his earliest 78 RPM recordings to the mehfil recordings he made near the end of his life, Muhammad Ali Fareedi’s distinct voice and charming talaffuz remained distinct from any other Qawwal. His recording of Qateel Shifai’s ghazal is taken from a 78 RPM disc released in the early 1950s. The voice isn’t as sharp as it used to be two decades ago and there aren’t any taans or takraars, but the Ustads meandering vowels and short tremolos lend the ghazal a lovely color. </div>
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<b>Poet: Qamar Jalalabadi</b><br />
<b>Ghazal: Kabhi Kaha Na Kisi Se</b><br />
<b>Gayaki Angg: Mehdi Hassan</b><br />
<b>Qawwali Angg: The Sabri Brothers Ensemble</b><br />
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A contemporary and friend of Qateel Shifai, Qamar Jalalabadi was also predominantly known as a lyricist. He started his career around five years earlier than Qateel, and scored an early hit with the wonderful songs of 1942’s big hit Khandaan. (One of my favorite film soundtracks btw). He was one of the leading lyricists of the 1940s and early fifties, but was later overshadowed by the next generation of lyricists including Sahir, Majrooh, Bedi, Rajinder Krishen etc. He was a regular presence at Urdu mushairas in India and abroad till the start of the 21st century. Unlie Qateel though, he is primarily known as a lyricist, with his poetical career overshadowed by his popular songs.<br />
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It is fitting that the final ghazal in this post should be by the King of Ghazals Mehdi Hassan. I needn’t go into any detailed analyses of Mehdi Hassan’s voice, his style or his career. Suffice to say that he does full justice to this ghazal, just like he did full justice to whatever he sang. The recording is from the early 80s when his voice had started mellowing and descending into the lower registers. The composition perfectly suits the sombre and resigned mood of the ghazal, and Khansaheb sings it wonderfully.<br />
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The commercially released Qawwali records of the late 60s and 70s are an odd proposition. On one hand, some of the greatest qawwals of the last century were being recorded using state of the art recording equipment in a studio setting, allowing them to record the ‘type’ specimens of their repertoire for posterity. On the other hand, these recordings were made using arrangements that were a tad too “filmi” and more often than not, overshadowed the kalam being recorded. This was the case with a number of recordings made in the 1970s by Bahauddin Khan as well as the Manzoor Niazi party. No one did this type of recording better (if that’s what you can call it) than the Sabri Brothers, who were the pre-eminent Pakistani Qawwals in the 1970s. Just take a listen to the opening ninety seconds of this recording. Once the opening salvo is over though, Les Freres Sabri jump into the kalam like nobody’s business. The opening doha is brilliant, the girahs are brilliant, the takraars are brilliant. The brothers sing the ghazal straight through until they get to the ‘hasil-e-ghazal- verse, which is then embellished with three or four really interesting girahs. It’s a perfect example of a Qawwali that is populist as well as respectful to the kalam being performed. In short, the perfect bookend to this post about the ghazal, an art-form that has strived for centuries to achieve the perfect balance between artistic excellence and popular appeal.</div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-66350504102284697552017-08-14T14:46:00.000+05:002017-08-15T17:10:25.649+05:00...Of The Two Streams - Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I spent the last month atop a 9000-foot mountain in the
middle of nowhere, for all practical purposes cut off from the rest of the
world. Finding themselves in such a situation, I’m sure each person would react
differently. Some would take to meditation; others, encouraged by the bracing
mountain air (though too thin for an asthmatic like me) give in to the
evils of physical fitness and exercise. Still others would be possessed by the
creative impulse and begin painting, composing poetry or writing the Great
Pakistani Novel (which in my opinion has already been written and is called
Udaas Naslain). I, of course, did none of the above. There were no attempts at
self-improvement, spiritual or physical, and there was no intrusion of the
creative spirit. My pursuits were altogether more prosaic. The demands of an
ongoing clinical residency meant that I should use this opportunity to study, which,
surprisingly, I did. The rest of my time was devoted solely to listening to,
organizing, editing and generally tinkering with my music.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I said that there were no intrusions of the creative
spirit, I may have been selling the old c.s a tad short. It did nudge me
towards attempting to find threads and patterns in the music I was listening
to. As any music geek knows, the first step towards making sense of a heap of
music is making playlists, which was my first step too. From these playlists
emerged what I hope will be a series of rather interesting posts on a number of
topics relating to what is apparently the raison d’etre of this blog, Qawwali.
Here goes the first one:<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the last three hundred years, the dominant poetic form in
the Urdu-Persian idiom has been the ghazal. The constant innovation and
endeavor of generations of poets has made it a unique, exceptionally polished
art-form within the wider purview of Urdu-Farsi poetry. So much so that it has
gradually accumulated its own sets of idioms, similes, allusions, allegories
and a syntax that has ensured its continued popularity while other, older
poetic forms such as the masnavi and the ruba’I have faded from the popular
imagination. Even in this era, when the perennial laments over the decline of
Urdu poetry can actually be considered something of an understatement, the
ghazal (along with Verse Libre) remains the main form of expression for poets
in Urdu and Farsi as well as Punjabi and, in the diaspora, English. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I shall assume that my readers, or a sizeable majority at
least, are aware of what comprises a ghazal. But for the minority who requires
an explanation, I shall yield the floor to the “internationally tall” Stephen
Fry. Quoting from his excellent book “The Ode Less Travelled: Unlocking the
Poet Within”:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>GHAZAL:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The lines in GHAZAL
always need to <i>run, IN PAIRS<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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They come, like mother-daughter, father-<i>son,
IN PAIRS<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I’ll change the subject, as this ancient form
requires<o:p></o:p></div>
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It offers hours of
simple, harmless <i>fun, IN PAIRS<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Apparently a Persian form, from far-off days<o:p></o:p></div>
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It needs composing
just as I have <i>done, IN PAIRS</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And when I think the
poem’s finished and complete<o:p></o:p></div>
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I STEPHEN FRY,
pronounce my work is <i>un-IMPAIRED<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>My version is rather a bastardly abortion I fear, but the
key principles are mostly adhered to. The lines of a GHAZAL (pronounced a bit
like guzzle, but the ‘g’ should hiccup slightly, Arab-style) come in metrical
couplets. The rhymes are unusual in that the last phrase of the opening two
lines (and second lines of each subsequent couplet) is a refrain (rhadif). It
is the word before the refrain (qafiya) that is rhymed, in the manner shown
above. I have cheated with the last rhyme-refrain pairing as you can see. Each
couplet should be a discrete (but not necessarily discreet) entity unto itself,
no enjambment being permitted or overall theme being necessary. It is usual,
but not obligatory, for the poet to ‘sign his name’ in the last line as I have
done.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I couldn’t have put it better myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After partition, ghazal-singing was promoted to the top of the
Pakistani cultural hierarchy along with Qawwali and folk-music, with
North-Indian Classical music relegated to the lower ranks. The reasons for this
shuffle were many. The abolition of the Princely States and their attendant system
of patronage meant that music needed to be somewhat populist to survive. In
addition, there was an active attempt by the powers-that-be to distance the new
nation from the Sanskrit-infused strains of Classical music and move towards
the musical forms that felt culturally more “Islamic”, more in tune with the
centuries old Farsi/Urdu idiom and the rich traditions of the local languages of
the new land as well as the philosophy of Sufism, all of which were considered
the building blocks for the new Pakistani culture. (I must learn to write shorter sentences) A discussion of the pros and
cons of this policy is something better left for people with inordinate amounts
of time on their hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The result was that the musical forms of ghazal, qawwali and
folk music flowered and flourished in Pakistan throughout the second half of
the 20<sup>th</sup> century. The sheer number of truly superlative ghazal
singers, qawwals and folk-singers that shone on the Pakistani stage is beyond
belief. The advantage was that despite being somewhat populist as compared to
Classical music, these musical forms served to improve and elevate the
audience’s musical tastes, inculcating a newfound love and appreciation for
Urdu poetry that ensured that even the lay-listener couldn’t help but be well
versed with at least a few nuances and niceties of the ghazal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The verse form of the ghazal is the largest and possibly
most important part of the Qawwali canon. Ghazals in Farsi and Urdu remain the
mainstay of most Qawwals’ repertoires. The main difference between the Qawwals
and ghazal-singers is that (for the most part) Qawwals tend to sing ghazals
whose literal or figurative meanings, allusions and idiom can be considered in
the spiritual context. The open-ended nature of the ghazal ensures that a large
number of popular Urdu ghazals have satisfied these criteria and have made
their way into the Qawwali repertoire. These include pieces by the legendary
Urdu poets of the 18<sup>th</sup> and 19<sup>th</sup> century (the Asateza) as
well as the modern 20<sup>th</sup> century greats. Comparing renditions of the
same ghazal by ghazal-singers and qawwals opens up new avenues into the
meanings and context of the poetry and offers a unique glimpse into the
evolution of these two art forms, the predominant art forms of Pakistani music.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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In keeping with the previous posts, I have restricted myself
to only one performance per artist. I have however, relaxed my self-imposed
rules to allow for a poet to be represented more than once. I’ve excluded the
ghazals of the recognized Sufi poets, e.g. Bedam Shah Warsi, Hz Shah Niaz,
Zaheen Shah Taji etc. as they’ve been sung by a number of Sufi performers such
as Abida Parveen etc. I’ve arranged the ghazals chronologically in terms of the
poets’ lifetimes, starting from the 18<sup>th</sup> century, counting down to
the 20<sup>th</sup>. Here goes:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Poet: Siraj Aurangabadi<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Khabar-e-Tahayyur-e-Ishq<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg: Shaukat Ali<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Qawwali Angg: Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal and
Brothers<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The ghazal I’ve chosen to start off this post is a rather
strange one, by a rather strange poet, and I’m not saying that pejoratively. Siraj
Aurangabadi was a Deccani poet of the 18<sup>th</sup> century, a contemporary
of Mir Taqi Mir. That in itself isn’t very strange. What marked him as
different from his contemporaries as well as successors was the fact that he
was a ‘Sahib-e-Tariqat Pir’, an ordained Sufi who accepted disciples and
imparted Spiritual knowledge. I can think of Khwaja Mir Dard as the only other
example amongst Urdu poets of standing. His spiritual bent is prominent in his
poetry, including this enchanting ghazal. For me, this ghazal always evokes a
strangely magical atmosphere, one with fairies, enchantments and evil breezes
from strange lands. The theme is of Wahdat-ul-Wujood, of Fanaa and the
subservience of logic before Love. There is a lovely ‘ghinaiyyat’ or internal
rhythm to the ghazal which makes it ideally suited to be sung.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first performance is by Shaukat Ali. Shaukat Ali burst
onto the Pakistani musical scene in the early 1960s as a wonder-kid while still
a student at Government College Lahore. His powerful, almost operatic voice
made him perfect for the folk epics that he has continued to sing in his
inimitable style. But “Shauki”, as my grandmother affectionately calls him,
achieved his early renown as a very gifted ghazal singer. Over the last half
century, he has sung a number of remarkable ghazals, all the while maturing
from the erstwhile “Prince of Folk” to a senior statesman and an institution of
Pakistani music. I love the arrangement of this ghazal and the fact that the
power and heft of Shaukat Ali’s voice lends itself to the meaning of the ghazal
rather than distracting from it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Qawwali performance of this ghazal is by Farid Ayaz, Abu
Muhammad Qawwal and Brothers from their triumphant performance at the Kabir Festival
in Bangalore, 2009. Farid and Abu Muhammad have the wonderful ability to
capture the mood of an audience and use it to add to the performance. Farid’s
charming spoken preamble and the spoken interludes within the performance
itself (interspersed with an effortless smattering of Hindi words) serves to
introduce the audience to the central themes of the ghazal, while the lovely
girahs guide them further into its deeper layers. It’s a ghazal the brothers
frequently sing, and considering this masterful rendition, one hardly wonders
why.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Poet: Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Jahan Tera Naqshe Qadam Dekhte Hain<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg: Ejaz Hussain Huzravi<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Qawwali Angg: Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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One of the books I brought with me to my mountain sojourn
was Maulana Hali’s landmark “Yadgar-e-Ghalib”. Apart from being an invaluable
biographical resource on the great poet, the book’s detailed analyses of
Ghalib’s literary achievements allowed me to deepen my researches into Ghalib’s poetry. A detailed exposition of said poetry isn’t warranted here,
especially as I have devoted a previous blog-post to it at some length. This
ghazal is one of Ghalib’s most famous, featuring subtle yet lovely word-play,
nuanced meanings and an evocation of the Beloved’s beauty. It has been sung by
many, with some of the greatest singers of the subcontinent attempting to
interpret this charming ghazal, with varying degrees of success.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hailing from the small town of Huzro near Attock, at the
border of Pakistan’s Punjab and Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa provinces, Ejaz Hussain
Huzravi was an enigmatic and deeply underrated ghazal singer. I had considered
him (terribly unjustly) amongst the lesser Ghazal singers of Pakistan until my
friend Nate posted a compilation of his ghazals on <a href="http://washermansdog-ajnabi.blogspot.com.au/2012/01/mard-e-zauqman-of-taste-ijaz-hussain.html" target="_blank">his blog</a>. To say that the
selection opened my eyes would be an understatement. I was awestruck by the
sweet dolorousness of Huzravi’s voice, his excellent selection of Kalam and the
understated style of singing. Here he evokes the resigned, tragic nuances of
the ghazal, in a performance imbued with longing and a remembrance of Love’s
beauty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The wonderful duality of meaning in Ghalib’s kalam is
evident from the Qawwali performance of this ghazal. Like the Farid Ayaz, Abu
Muhammad performance above, this one too is taken from a triumphant concert in
India. Ustad Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali Qawwal gave several concert performances in
India post-partition, including a magnificent concert at Bombay in 1958, from
which this performance is taken. I’ve included this performance in my previous
posts on Ghalib as well as the raag Kedara, but its so good that it bears
sharing a third time. It’s a joyful, lively, ‘khilti hui’ rendition prefaced by
Salamat Ali’s lovely harmonium. In stark contrast with Ejaz Hussain Huzravi’s
performance, the Ustads turn the ghazal into a playful account of the
adventures in the Beloved’s pursuit, cheerfully facing the travails of love.
The Ustads’ trademark takraars, taans and vociferous style are in full display
here.</span></span></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Mazze Jahan Ke <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg: Ustad Amanat Ali Khan<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Qawwali Angg: Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I stated at the beginning of this post that after partition,
Ghazal quickly supplanted Classical as the officially patronized musical form
in Pakistan. The perfect example of this change is the career of Ustad Amanat
Ali Khan. The crown prince of the young and vigorous Patiala Gharana of
North-Indian classical music, Amanat Ali along with his brother Fateh Ali Khan
were seen as the rightful claimants to the throne vacated three decades earlier
by Ali Bakhsh-Fateh Khan, the stalwarts of the Patiala Gharana. Possessing a
deeply emotive voice that perfectly complimented his brother Fateh Ali’s
gravelly and powerful baritone, Amanat Ali was the pre-eminent Pakistani
classical singer. But he was aware of the changing trends and in the early
1960s, began his foray into ghazal singing. His classical excellence, coupled
with the sensual emotiveness of his voice quickly made him one of the
pre-eminent ghazal singers of Pakistan. Before his untimely death in the early
1970s, Amanat Ali Khan recorded a number of excellent ghazals, including this
version of Ghalib’s wonderful kalam. He sings it in a light, melodious
arrangement in which the simple beauty of his voice shines through despite the
rather heavy instrumentation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Qawwali interpretation of this kalam is by Bakhshi
Salamat Qawwal. It’s one of my most favorite pieces of music ever and that’s
all the description I am going to write.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Poet: Ameer Minai<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Tu Ne But-e-Harjayi<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg: Nayyara Noor<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Qawwali Angg: Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Ameer Minai was one of the younger contemporaries of Ghalib
and an important poet of the 2<sup>nd</sup> half of the 19<sup>th</sup> Century
in addition to being a lexicographer, jurist and Islamic scholar. The first
half of his life was spent in relative ease in Awadh, but after the War of
1857, his condition become strained until he was accepted into employment as
the poetry teacher or “Ustad” to the Nawab of Rampur – a position in which he
succeeded his friend Ghalib. The last years of his life were spent compiling
and securing financial backing for a comprehensive Urdu dictionary. He was able
to complete the volumes pertaining to the first three letters of the Urdu
alphabet before he passed away. His fame rests on his lovely Na’ats and
ghazals. His “Zahir main hum fareefta husn-e-butaan ke hain” sung by Fareeda
Khanum is one of my eternal favorites. The ghazal chosen here is a light piece
in which the poet laments his choice of the object of his affections, and the
various travails he has encountered on Love’s path. As with most of Minai’s
ghazals, and most of the selections in this post, the decision whether the
Beloved is temporal or spiritual is left entirely to the audience’s
imagination.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nayyara Noor is unique among Pakistani ghazal-singers. The
startling quality of her voice has been acclaimed by none other than the late
Anil Biswas, who wrote her a letter of appreciation which she considers her
most prized possession. In the early ‘70s she was able to put a modern,
youthful spin on the art of ghazal singing without compromising on its
aesthetics or the quality of the performance or the choice of kalam. In
addition to her forays into modernity and in collaboration with Producer/Writer
Shoaib Hashmi and Composer Arshad Mehmood, Nayyara carried out a series of
bold, experimental recordings. These involved rendering ghazals in a style that
had flourished in the 1920s-1940s and had then gone extinct: the Parsi Theater
style of ghazal singing exemplified by stalwarts like Mukhtar Begum. Her
rendition of this ghazal is also in that style, and it suits the kalam very
well, heightening its melodic surprises and giving it a long-ago-and-far-away
feel.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Qawwali performance of this ghazal is by Haji Mahboob
Sb. There are just four performers. Haji Sb leads and plays Sitar. Haji Mushtaq
accompanies and plays the harmonium. A third accompanist handles clapping
duties while the fourth is on the tabla. Each of the four performers fulfils
their duties to absolute perfection. The recording is from the early ‘70s, when
Haji Sb used to perform choice ghazals in front of Hz Babuji (RA) without
excessive girah-bandi or tazmeen. The lack of excess in this recording is part
of its beauty. The talaffuz is perfect, the brief takraars are perfect, Haji
Mushtaq’s mini aakaars are perfect, the two-man rhythm section is perfect. It
is a perfect example of Khanqahi Qawwali.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<b><br /></b>
<b>Poet: Allama Muhammad Iqbal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Har Lehza Hai Momin<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg: Noor Jehan<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Qawwali Angg: Manzoor Niazi Qawwal aur Hamnavaa<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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At the start of the 20<sup>th</sup> century, Iqbal was one
of the brightest and most promising ‘shagirds’ of the recently deceased Mirza
Daagh Dehelvi, the undisputed master of the light-hearted, playfully romantic
ghazal. Over the next four decades, Iqbal’s poetry assumed the more imposing
spiritual, political and philosophical mantle that made him the
Poet-Philosopher of the East. But his poetry still retained the wonderful
rhythms and internal rhymes he had learnt from Daagh at the start of his
career. As a result, a large number of Iqbal’s ghazals, both political as well
as romantic, have been put to music, to excellent effect. After partition,
“Iqbaliyat” or the singing of Iqbal’s kalam was actively introduced as a
sub-genre of Pakistani music, with a large number of artists singing his kalam
on Radio and subsequently Television. This ghazal is one of Iqbal’s overtly
political ones, defining what Iqbal believes are the essential qualities of a
perfect Muslim. Despite its rather heavy political and revolutionary message,
it’s not top-heavy. There is a lovely flow and lilt to it which is superbly
exploited by the two artists performing it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If the musical history of Pakistan is to be distilled into a
single performer, it would most probably be Noor Jehan. From precocious
film-star in the ‘30s to THE female voice of Pakistani cinema for four decades,
Noor Jehan was a prevalent cultural presence in the subcontinent for more than
60 years. One of the reasons for her longevity was a remarkable career
reinvention in the late ‘70s when she decided to fully exploit the
opportunities provided by the medium of television. In a series of landmark
programs titled “Tarannum”, she re-recorded her famous film hits and
commissioned new compositions of ghazals by the best Urdu poets, both old and
new. Then, she had these recordings ‘picturized’ on herself, employing all the
charming techniques from her career as a cinematic leading lady. In doing so,
she introduced herself to generations of new listeners, won legions of new fans
and added a number of remarkable ghazals to the Pakistani musical canon. Her
rendition of this ghazal is among her more famous recordings from that era,
rendered in a sober yet powerful style, with perfect ‘ehteraam’ to both the words
and the meanings of the kalam. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Qawwali recording of this ghazal is taken from a
Radio Pakistan performance recorded for broadcast on Iqbal Day, the birthday of
Allama Iqbal that was a major annual cultural event each year on the 9<sup>th</sup>
of November. Radio and TV used to devote the day to Iqbaliyat and a large
number of recordings were commissioned each year. Sadly, most of them have only
been heard once or twice and remain stored away in the Radio Pakistan vaults.
The rendition is by the original Manzoor Niazi Qawwal aur Hamnavaa, sans
Bahauddin Sb, which dates this recording to the early 1970s. The party is led
by Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed, accompanied by Manzoor Ahmad Niazi and Naseeruddin
Saami. Raziuddin Sb’s ‘kharri’ enunciation and Manzoor Niazi Sb’s sweet, clear
taans are the highlight of this lovely piece that is devoid of any girah-bandi
except for a wonderful Arabic prayer near the end and the short preamble at the
beginning. The recording fades out as Raziuddin Sb leads the party into the
stratosphere.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<b>Poet: Jigar Muradabadi<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Iss Ishq Ke Haathon Se<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg : Begum Akhtar<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Qawwali Angg: Aziz Ahmad Khan Warsi Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Ali Sikandar “Jigar” Muradabadi is a giant of Urdu
literature and one of the great poets of the 20<sup>th</sup> Century. He is recognized
as one of the very few “Ustads” in modern Urdu poetry, a vital link between the
romantic sensibilities of the 19<sup>th</sup> Century and the modernist,
progressive attitudes of the 20<sup>th</sup>. His poetry has remained popular
amongst all strata of society, from the Urdu-speaking elite of North and
Central India to the Sufis and devotees of shrines dotted across the
subcontinent. There is a striking spiritual element to his poetry, that makes
his ghazals a mainstay of the Qawwali repertoire. In addition, his ghazals have
been sung by almost all the great ghazal singers of the subcontinent. He was
fond of reciting his ghazals in a unique ‘tarannum’ style which relied on the
innate musicality of his kalam. He is a personal favorite of mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The year is 1952. The setting is the Bombay residence of
famous businessman and patron of the arts Mr. Khatau Vallabhdas. An evening of
music has been arranged for a small gathering of carefully chosen aficionados.
The singer is 38-year-old Akhtari Bai Faizabadi, still some years away from
completing her transformation into Begum Akhtar. The mehfil starts at 7 in the
evening. What follows is utter and absolute magic. One astonishing ghazal
follows the last, followed by a selection of choice Thumris, Dadras, Chaitis
and Horis. Akhtari Bai sings magically, she applauds her accompanying musicians
and occasionally bursts into a girlish giggle. Amongst her many renditions that
night is this ghazal of Jigar’s, in a performance that defies description.
Also, the tabla player is a genius.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Aziz Ahmad Khan Warsi is unique among the Qawwals of
the 20<sup>th</sup> century. He was a major Qawwal of the Qawwal Bacchon Ka
Gharana who made Hyderabad his home, rather than Delhi. The majority of his
repertoire comprised of Urdu ghazals rather than the more overtly spiritual
repertoire of his contemporaries. His performance style was like no other, with
a staccato harmonium and a similarly staccato style of singing that frequently
teetered on the edge of the taal before returning to the ‘samm’ in a startling
flourish. He has sung ghazals by the greatest Urdu poets and is a landmark
figure in the Deccani culture of the second half of the 20<sup>th</sup>
century. This ghazal is amongst my most favorite of his performances.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<b>Ghazal: Shab-e-Gham Ki Daraazi<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Gayaki Angg: Pandit Vitthal Rao<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Qawwali Angg: Nazeer Naseer Warsi Qawwal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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If I’m lucky, once every two or three years, I stumble upon
a new Musical Discovery. An artist that I instantly fall in love with and begin
obsessing over. My musical discovery of 2017 has been Pandit Vitthal Rao. In a
way, discovering him has been the inspiration for this post. The ghazal posted
below had been among my favorites, having been sung by a number of Qawwali
artists. One day, while flicking through YouTube videos, Istumbled upon Pandit
Vithal Rao’s rendition of it and I was hooked. I may be a tad biased
considering he’s now one of my favorite artists but I consider him one of the
better ghazal singers from across the border, a list that I can count on the
fingers of one hand. His ‘talaffuz’ and phrasing is excellent, his voice is
beautifully fragile and tremulous, and he sings the ghazal beautifully. Like
Aziz Ahmed Warsi above, he was a fixture of the post-partition Deccani culture
and was, until his death recently, one of the pre-eminent (though highly
underrated) ghazal singers of India.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The tail end of this post has taken on something of a
Deccani hue, as the last performers in this post are also from Hyderabad. They
are the grandsons of Aziz Ahmad Khan Warsi and are amongst the most sought after
Qawwals currently performing in India. Their style has tinges of their late
grandfather and they share his penchant for selecting excellent kalam to
perform. Their repertoire includes a number of Jigar Muradabadi ghazals,
including this mehfil rendition from 2002. Like their grandfather, they eschew
excessive girah-bandi, focusing instead on the rendition of the kalam.
Similarly, there isn’t an excess of vocal gymnastics. It’s an excellent
rendition of an excellent ghazal, just the way I like it.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I started writing this post, I didn’t realize
that it would turn out to be such a large undertaking. If I’d known from the
start, I would’ve balked and let laziness take its course. But now as I glance
at the word count and realize that it’s crossed 4000 words, I guess I might as
well pull up my socks and complete the darned endeavor. Writing another 4000
words is one thing, inflicting an 8000-word opus on the unsuspecting reader is
entirely another. So, I’ve decided to leave the second half of the post (yes,
you’ve only reached half) for the second installment, to be published two weeks
from now. Till then, happy listening.</span></span></div>
Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-3674558473811816632017-05-02T20:04:00.002+05:002017-05-02T20:29:34.602+05:00Of Eagles With Eagles...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>کند ہم جنس با ہم جنس پرواز</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>کبوتر با کبوتر، باز بہ باز</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Birds of a feather fly together</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Doves fly with doves, Eagles with eagles</span></div>
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A word of warning. This is another of those "Pucca" Qawwali posts that feature scratchy recordings, obscure biographical details and other items that may not be interesting to the lay-reader but which - for me at least - are THE reason I fell in love with Qawwali. Let's begin...</div>
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<b>Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal</b> was born in Pakpattan in 1914 and died at Golra in 1992. Although young Mahboob was trained in manufacturing silver flake (chandi kay warq), his father was intent on making him a Qawwal and sent him to the legendary Ustad Muhammad Ali Fareedi (Mahboob 's brother-in-law) to be trained. Haji Sb spent seven years under the tutelage of Muhammad Ali Fareedi but was unable to imbibe much in the way of Qawwali, and was sent back to his father as a "gone case". On one of his visits to Pakpattan, Hz Ghulam Mohyeddin Gilani (Hz Babuji R.A) - the son of Pir Meher Ali Shah of Golra(R.A) was approached by Mahboob's father who requested that Hz Babuji take the youngster under his wing and train him to be a Qawwal. Hz Babuji agreed and took the young Mahboob with him to Golra. Initially, Mahboob was sent to the famed Sufi Ali Bukhsh "Waiz" Qawwal to learn his unique style of Qawwali with Sitar accompaniment, but Waiz Qawwal also found himself unable to teach the student to his satisfaction, and Mahboob returned to Golra. </div>
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At Golra, Hz Babuji decided to train Mahboob himself and took him to Pir Meher Ali Shah (R.A) to obtain his blessing. After Pir Meher Ali Shah (R.A)'s blessing, Mahboob started practicing Samaa under Hz Babuji's direct training as the Darbari Qawwal of the Golra Sharif shrine. Throughout Hz Babuji's lifetime, he taught Mahboob the intricacies of music, thousands upon thousands of Sufi texts and their explanations, as well as the core Sufi concepts that - as the Darbari Qawwal - Mahboob's task was to transmit to his audience. The result was that Haji Mahboob was acclaimed - by his audiences, Sufis and other Qawwals - as THE Darbari Qawwal. He was recognized as the spokesperson of the shrine, who effectively educated his audience under the direct supervision of the custodians of the shrine. Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal performed almost daily at the Golra Sharif Shrine for more than half a century and his Mehfil recordings are a treasure for anyone who prefers Qawwali the way it was intended - as a form of spiritual instruction.</div>
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<b>Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal</b> was born in 1922 in Batala, (Gurdaspur) and died in 1985. He belonged to a traditional Qawwal family; he was the nephew of the great Muhammad Ali Fareedi, his elder brother Agha Bashir Ahmad was a famous Qawwal in his own right, while his younger brother Agha Majeed Ahmad Fareedi was one of the <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2014/05/of-sideman-par-excellence.html" target="_blank">greatest accompanists</a> in qawwali history. Agha Rasheed's journey to becoming a qawwal wasn't easy. He began his musical career as the tabla-nawaz with his elder brother Agha Bashir's party but became determined to become a Qawwal after being scolded (and reportedly slapped) by his elder brother due to a mistake in one of their performances. </div>
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He then went to the great Qawwal of the first half of the 20th Century, Fateh Ali Khan, and asked to be taken under his wing. The story of his first day under as Fateh Ali Khan's shagird is also very interesting. Fateh Ali Khan had told the young student to stand next to a wall and loudly practice the musical scales. While Rasheed was practicing in his (even then) loud and raspy voice, an acquaintance of Fateh Ali Khan's passed by and commented in earshot of Rasheed, "Who is this donkey you've got braying next to the wall?". Luckily for Qawwali, Rasheed didn't take affronts like this to heart and studiously learnt Qawwali under Fateh Ali, ultimately becoming - in the opinion of wiser heads than mine - his pre-eminent pupil and the most perfect exemplar of his Ustads' style of Qawwali.<br />
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The stories of Haji Mahboob Ali and Rasheed Ahmad intersect at several key points. For one, they were cousins. Secondly, Rasheed was a disciple of Hz Babuji (RA) - he had obtained 'ba'et' on Hz Babuji's hand. Third, even though Rasheed wasn't permanently attached to any specific Sufi shrine, he practiced the "Darbaari" style of Qawwali throughout his life, eschewing - either willingly or through a lack of opportunity - the more commercial style of his peers. Further, both Haji Mahboob and Agha Rasheed Ahmad considered it their sacred duty to bring about a spiritual change in their listeners. Haji Mahboob had once said, "If there is one "Sahib-e-Haal" in my audience, my job is done; otherwise dust upon my face and upon the audience!". Agha Rasheed had once expressed similar sentiments, saying "If it were up to me, my audience would leave the mehfil with their clothes in tatters." Another important similarity was that both Qawwals were accompanied by their phenomenally talented brothers; Haji Mushtaq Ali with Haji Mahboob and Agha Majeed Ahmad Fareedi with Agha Rasheed. Both these accompanists were superbly talented in their own right but kept their talents subservient to their elder brothers for almost their entire careers. It is a fitting (and touching) tribute to their association that after the deaths of both Haji Mahboob and Rasheed, both their younger brothers joined hands and took over the duties of Darbaari Qawwals at Golra, each performing regularly till they passed away.</div>
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The two great Qawwals, as a result of their spiritual allegiance to Hz Babuji (RA), were great friends and admirers of each other. Agha Rasheed would visit Golra regularly during the days of the Urs, and out of deference to Haji Mahboob's seniority in both age and as the Darbari Qawwal of the shrine, would sit in with Haji Sb's party as an accompanist. On the conclusion of the Urs, Haji Mahboob would return the favor by giving the entire sum of money collected as "Nazr" during the 'Chaadar' ceremony over to Rasheed. Very few recordings exist of the two great qawwals singing together, but the few that remain are phenomenally powerful. Even when they were not singing together, their repertoires often contained kalaams that were distinct from their contemporary Qawwals. Most of these unique kalaams were either written by succeeding generations of the Pirs of Golra Sharif or by devotees of the Golra shrine like Isa Amritsari. By listening to both these Qawwals renditions of a common repertoire, one gets a better idea of their contrasting styles. While Haji Mahboob preferred an emphasis of text over music (mainly because he confessed to being relatively untrained in the intricacies of classical music), Agha Rasheed fully utilized the superb musical tutelage of Fateh Ali with taankari, sargams and stupendous takraars. Haji Sb's style was more meditative, mellower and more explanatory. Rasheed's was dramatic, brashly powerful and exclamatory. Both Qawwals succeeded where most others have failed, in their ability to transfer the spiritual meanings of the kalaam to their audience effectively.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haji Mahboob Ali (with Sitar) and Haji Mushtaq Ali (on harmonium), with Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi (extreme left) and Agha Majeed Ahmad Fareedi (6th from left) in the 2nd row.</td></tr>
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<b><u>Baaz Ba Baaz - Haji Mahboob Ali and Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal</u></b></div>
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<b>1. Aa Punla Mor Muharaan Ve</b><br />
<b>2. Khuda Ki Qasam Hai Khuda Jalwagar Hai</b><br />
<b>3. Arzooe Wasle Janaan</b><br />
<b>4. Apni Ghurbat Se Teri Shan Se</b><br />
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These first four kalaams are by Pir Sahibaan of Golra [the first by Pir Naseeruddin Naseer (RA), the next three by his father, Pir Ghulam Moinuddin (RA) who used "Mushtaq" as his takhallus] serve to highlight both Qawwals' approaches to Qawwali. Haji Mahboob presents these three pieces without much girahbandi or embellishment, as was his wont when performing the kalaams of Pir Ghulam Moinuddin (RA); adopting a beautiful, hauntingly melodic arrangement (especially in the latter three kalaams which are amongst my most favorite performances of his). What emerges is a series of performances steeped in longing, love and melancholy. Agha Rasheed on the other hand, uses long takraars to build up the kalaams to a series of crescendos. In between, there is lovely Punjabi girahbandi and superb taankari that highlights the Qawwals' musical credentials. The highlight is his rendition of the second kalaam, a masterpiece in the construction of a Qawwali performance. The performance builds in tempo and "zor" with each passing second, like a locomotive slowly gathering speed before whisking away the listeners to destinations unknown. <br />
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<b>4. Diya Hota Kisi Ko Dil</b><br />
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This is a rather famous piece by Bedam Shah Warsi and both qawwals have sung it in its traditional tarz; un-embellished, with minimal girahbandi or taankaari.<br />
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<b>5. La Ilah Di Ramz Niari</b><br />
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This is a beautiful Kafi of Hz Baba Buleh Shah (RA) which is rarely sung by Qawwals. It's message is of the One-ness of God and the fact that the belief in this One-ness - Tauheed - is the central tenet of Islam and Sufism. also explored is the Sufi concept of 'Wahdat-ul-Wujood' as expounded by Hz Ibn-al-Arabi (RA) and his successors. Here it is Haji Mahboob who expands the performance, performing a profound exposition of the test, using girahs from sources as varied as Guru Nanak and Rumi, Iqbal and Kabir. His 50 minute performance is the perfect example of Qawwali as 'Sama', Qawwali as 'Wa'z' and Qawwali as the means to spiritual education, with the takraars in the latter half taking the listener to strange places indeed. In contrast, Agha Rasheed Ahmad's recording is taken from a Radio Pakistan performance featuring musical accompaniment by Shehnai and Sitar, It's lovely to hear the younger voices of the Fareedi brothers, and Agha Majeed really shines in this performance.<br />
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<b>6, Prem Nagar Ki Raah Kathin Hai</b><br />
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A lovely Poorbi kalam - almost a bhajan - by the poet Mehmood Shah again displays striking differences in the performance styles of the two Qawwals. Haji Mahboob Sb is in an absolutely sublime mood; mellow, meditative and contemplative. His style is languid, almost loving as he steers the kalaam into beautiful territory, making it an allegory for the events at Karbala. In between, he exclaims to the audience, "These are dangerous things that I am about to relate, not for everyone's ears!". It's a beautiful performance, one that sounds absolutely intimate and deeply personal. Agha Rasheed's performance is similar in many ways. He uses most of the same girahs that Haji Mahboob uses, even using the same introductory verses. His performance, though still possessing a certain languor, is more regal, more magisterial, more declamatory. The arrangement is really beautiful, as is the taankari and girahbandi.<br />
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<b>7. Salaam Aye Fatima Ke Laal</b><br />
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This powerful Manqabat to Hz Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jilani (RA) was written by Isa Amritsari. Isa was a mureed of Hz Pir Meher Ali Shah (RA) who wrote some beautiful poetry in Farsi, Urdu and Punjabi. He perished during the partition riots on a train bound for Pakistan in 1947 at a relatively young age. This manqabat is regularly performed at the Golra Sharif shrine on the eleventh of every Islamic month (Gyarhveen). This kalaam was also significant in that after Hz Pir Meher Ali Shah (Ra) had bestowed his blessings on young Mahboob Ali, this was the kalaam that Mahboob had recited in front of Pir Meher Ali Shah. This kalaam is usually sung at the conclusion of Qawwali mehfils at Golra so it is fitting that I end this post with this wonderful manqabat. </div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-50759400144043231552017-04-19T17:07:00.004+05:002020-08-04T09:32:19.602+05:00...Of The Wellspring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The word Qawwali stems from the word "Qaul" or "saying". Put simply, Qawwali - the subcontinental variant of the traditional Sufi practice of Samaa - consists of the sayings and utterances of the Saints, set to music. The Qawwali repertoire has expanded over time to include Ghazal, Kafi, Classical bandishes and folk epics in almost all the languages of the Indo-Persian region. However, a very specific subset of the repertoire consists of compositions known as Qauls. Some scholars, and most Qawwals, consider these Qauls to be remnants of the very earliest style of Sub-continental Qawwali, originated by Hz Amir Khusrau (RA). The evidence for this claim is mainly the oral traditions of the Qawwal gharanaas, and like many attributions to Hz Amir Khusrau, the attribution of the Qauls may well be apocryphal at best.<br />
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Ages ago, I wrote a <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2010/09/of-qaul.html" target="_blank">post</a> comprising some of my favorite recordings of the most famous Qaul in Sufi music, "Mun Kunto Maula". Since that post, I have not only heard (and collected) many more wonderful versions of the famous Qaul, I have also managed to acquire a small number of other, lesser known Qauls. In this post, I'll share a few Qauls that are somewhat obscure, but deserve to be heard and appreciated. They all share very interesting combinations of languages, 'Raags' and 'taals'. Even though it's impossible to accurately trace their lineage and history, the Qauls sound absolutely distinct from the rest of the Qawwali corpus and occupy a distinct niche within the repertoire.<br />
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<b>1. Mun Kunto Maula - Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi</b><br />
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The first item on the list is a very non-traditional recording of the traditionally famous Qaul. I featured this recording as the very last item in my 2006 post. Because of it's distinctness, it deserves to be shared again. Traditionally, the most famous Qaul is sung in raag Shudh Kalyan or raag Shaam Kalyan. Fareedi Sb however, begs to differ. As he garrulously declares at the start, his version of the Qaul is in raag Bhopali and in Teentaal ( a rythmic cycle of 16 beats). Ustad Naseeb Khan then lays down a steady rhythm as Agha Rasheed and his brother Majeed Fareedi commence their interpretation. Like many of his electrifying performances, Fareedi Sb accelerates the Qaul like a train slowly gathering speed, creating wonderfully powerful takraars along the way. The takraars build to a wonderful crescendo on a verse of Bedam Shah Warsi's, before Fareedi Sb suddenly changes gears and takes the performance in an entirely different direction altogether. Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi was a wholly unique performer, with a style distinctly his own. It's no wonder then, that his version of arguably the most commonly performed piece of Sufi music is wholly unique and absolutely distinct.<br />
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<b>2. Allah Taala Qaula-namaa - Muhammad Hayat Nizami</b><br />
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The late Muhammad Hayat Nizami was one of the resident Qawwals of the shrine of Hz Nizamuddin Aulia (RA) in Delhi. He was the father of Hamsar Hayat Nizami, currently one of the leading Qawwals of India. I was first introduced to him via Yousuf Saeed's wonderful documentary "Khusro Bani", which featured a number of performances by Muhammad Hayat Nizami and his party. I wasn't able to find many recordings by him, but a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIxcJ_jZNOQ" target="_blank">wonderful film</a> on YouTube shows the Ustad and his family in a wonderful light. His "pukka" vocal style impressed me greatly, and I cherish the few recordings of his that i possess. Here he presents a Qaul accompanied by a dholak beat that sounds almost like a Pakhawaj, as well as a Sarangi. His style is frenetic and lively, interspersed with frequent exclamations of "Shava Re !". It's a short but powerful performance, allowing the Ustad to use his raspy voice to great effect in a series of brief sargams and taans, as well as a lovely taraana at the end.<br />
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<b>3. Qaul-e-Rusool Sunaayo - Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed Khan</b><br />
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<a href="http://kidvai.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Zaheer Kidvai Sb</a> had once mentioned that the Lok Virsa folks in Islamabad had recorded a number of performances by Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed in the 1990's. This had sparked intense curiosity in me, which was quenched when the videos of not one but two separate recording sessions popped up on YouTube. Each performance was worth its (figurative) weight in gold, but the most interesting recording was of this beautiful Qaul. Raziuddin Sb is ably accompanied by young Farid Ayaz and Abu Muhammad in this recording. The tempo is stately, with a lovely rhythm and Raziuddin Sb's voice in fine form. He uses wonderful Farsi and Urdu na'atiya verses as girahs, embellishing an already wonderful piece. There is another very lovely rendition of this Qaul available on YouTube for the more curious readers to find and enjoy. Hint : It's by another stalwart of the Qawwal Bacchhon ka Gharana.<br />
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<b>4. Laata Maafi/Aayo Re Yeh Kaun Pargato - Meraj Ahmed Nizami Qawwal</b><br />
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Speaking of stalwarts of the Qawwal Bacchon ka Gharana, the late Meraj Ahmed Nizami was rightfully considered the head of the clan. A strict traditionalist who steadfastly persisted with the style of performance that was handed down to him, he was a veritable treasure of musical knowledge. This fact was recognized by a number of ethno-musicologists including Prof. Regula Qureshi, whose <a href="http://www.cambridge.org/pk/academic/subjects/music/ethnomusicology/sufi-music-india-and-pakistan-sound-context-and-meaning-qawwali?format=HB&isbn=9780521267670" target="_blank">seminal book</a> on Qawwali is based mainly on a series of performances by Meraj Sb. He was also recorded by the Smithsonian institute in the late Eighties for a wonderful 2-CD set. This set of Qauls come from the same album. Meraj Sb prefaces the performance by claiming that his Gharana - the Qawwal Bacchon ka Gharana - claims sole ownership over these two Qauls. I find no reason to dispute this claim, as all other recordings of this Qaul in my possession are by musicians from the same Gharana, including an absolutely astounding rendition on the Sarangi by Ustad Bundoo Khan. Meraj Sb ends his lovely performance of the Qaul with a series of verses from a lovely ghazal that he was very fond of, bringing this brief performance to a fitting end.<br />
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<b>5. Qaul - Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Mujahid Mubarak Ali Khan and Party</b><br />
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In 1975, countries across the traditionally Persianate parts of Asia celebrated the 7th centenary of Hz Amir Khusrau's (RA) birth. A number of cultural activities took place, spanning literature and the performing arts. Under the supervision of the legendary poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz, who was heading the the Pakistan National Council for the Arts, the Pakistani cultural community actively participated in these celebrations. Apart from special programming on Radio Pakistan and Pakistan Television, a number of wonderful commemorative albums were released by EMI Pakistan, featuring artists from across the entire Pakistani musical spectrum. These albums included Qawwali, vocal and instrumental Classical music, Ghazal as well as Light-Classical performances by the leading artists of Pakistan. In addition, a series of now legendary concerts were held at (among other places) the Liaquat Hall, Rawalpindi.<br />
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One of these concerts was devoted solely to Qawwali and featured the leading Qawwals of Pakistan performing pieces attributed to Hz Amir Khusrau (RA). A couple of years ago, as part of the Dream Journey project, I was able to participate in an interview with Ustad Naseeruddin Saami, who had performed in the famed concert, accompanying his uncles Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed and Manzoor Ahmed Niazi. He spoke of the concert in hushed tones, claiming that the pieces performed that day have rarely been heard since. I'll end this post with a performance from that very concert. I'll forego any florid descriptions of this performance, as Mujahid Mubarik Ali Khan and Nusrat do an excellent job of introducing it themselves.<br />
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Til the next post, cheers !!
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As I have frequently confessed on this blog and elsewhere, my knowledge of music is superficial at best. If occasionally I seem to be making some sense in the description of the pieces I post, it's mainly because I'm using sketchy information gleaned from innumerable sources to cover my embarrassing degree of ignorance. The theoretical, technical aspects of music completely elude me. I wouldn't be able to tell a 'Sa' from a 'Ni' if my life depended on it. In fact, this introductory paragraph also serves as a cry for help. If any of my readers (the few who haven't disappeared due to the blog's long hibernation) could guide me towards a resource I could use to learn note and interval recognition, I'd be really grateful. The complex system of Raags and Thaats and Vaadi-Samvaadis will have to wait until I've actually tuned my ear to recognize notes. I'll be waiting for the suggestions.<br />
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That being said, through sheer good luck and the efforts of a few very benevolent friends, I can now say that on good days, on my fourth or fifth try, I can recognize a few raags. Partly because they're the only ones I can confidently recognize and partly because they are absolutely beautiful, these few raags have become my favorites. I actively search out compositions in them and enjoy them immensely, trying to keep up with and anticipate the shifting sequences of notes. Like I said earlier, I can't really tell which notes are being played, which notes are vaadi-samvaadi or what's the difference between a bad'hat and a pakarr, but I love what I hear, and that has endeared these raags to me. It's a small list that includes Hameer, Tilak Kamod, Maru Behag, Chhayanat, Alhaiyya Bilawal and the subject of this post; <b>Raag Kedara</b>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg955GJgrwI-iw5SGLIZAFgoIZgcd0ohHjqgXNNnk723xuI_u4dTWXUfmp7jtWb_Q4o1gfJPNeZYMoHuCaMbwwWIdl9oiahhUmWCjpVLnunh6qHUs4QcOQ5hKLLAY0R5FnLi-UNdO_DNfV/s1600/Kedara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg955GJgrwI-iw5SGLIZAFgoIZgcd0ohHjqgXNNnk723xuI_u4dTWXUfmp7jtWb_Q4o1gfJPNeZYMoHuCaMbwwWIdl9oiahhUmWCjpVLnunh6qHUs4QcOQ5hKLLAY0R5FnLi-UNdO_DNfV/s400/Kedara.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ragini Kedara (from a 17th century Raagmala manuscript)</td></tr>
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The Kedara just wins out over the Tilak Kamod as my favorite raag. Oftentimes it feels that the beautiful "Sa Re Ga Sa Re" phrase of the Tilak Kamod sounds lovelier than the Kedara's descending 'meendh', but the Kedara eventually emerges the winner because of its evocation of a very special mood. It's a meditative, night-time mood, with mystical undertones and a strange, enchanting dignity. Much later, when I discovered the Raag-mala paintings of this Raag, I found that they depicted mystics, either listening to <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7q9xTXZdHIw7VC_Wx3gvVHNVqCXDHDY1JPza7R5V4iST24jfwGU5S6E-0ZGciTnN0p4GNNrWvNmr-mpeTZte8ScKK1YkVKprE2gxVwRsQuNv9zPhz75DlL4LIcAqisgGlT6TzNqdAgeU/s1600/DP153180.jpg" target="_blank">stringed instruments</a> or <a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3e/Kedara_Ragini.jpg" target="_blank">conversing </a>with their (generally royal) <a href="http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/90/9064/3OED500Z/posters/shah-ud-din-kedar-ragini-of-sri-1628.jpg" target="_blank">disciples</a> while the crescent moon shines overhead. I think this goes to show that despite an ignorance of the fine technicalities of the Raag, one is still able to tap into the soul of the music if one listens often enough. I have a number of favorite renditions of this raag, from mainstream <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYlFzD5MCrI" target="_blank">pop-rock</a> to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0CLO7_0qa8" target="_blank">ghazal</a> to <a href="http://chairwise.org/sarangi/2016-december/A.Kanan_Kedar.mp3" target="_blank">vocal</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTjYmArx8_U" target="_blank">instrumental</a> classical music, but for this post, I'll focus on Qawwali.<br />
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Here then, is a selection of Qawwali pieces based on Raag Kedara<br />
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1. <b>Ae Dil Bageer Daaman - Ae Sukh Daiyya - Taranas -- Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal & Brothers</b><br />
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The first recording in this post is rather special to me. It's from the very first Qawwali mehfil I ever attended. In the winter of 2010, I was in Rawalpindi for my Med School convocation when I got a message from Arif Ali Khan Sb, who was visiting Islamabad at that time. He invited me to a Qawwali mehfil at the residence of one of his friends, and I readily accepted. It was a chance to finally meet Arif Sb, with whom I had interacted with online for several years. It was also a chance to get to see Farid Ayaz and Abu Muhammad live, quite an initiation into the world of Qawwali. It turned out to be a really memorable evening, with the Qawwals singing some beautiful pieces and the experience of live Qawwali supercharging my burgeoning interest into a full-blown obsession. The Qawwals started the mehfil with this lovely manqabat of Hz Shah Niaz's. Around the 11 minute mark, they beautifully segued into one of my favorite bandishes, Ae Sukh Daiyya, (The wah-wahs you hear are unfortunately mine). Finally came two lovely taraanas in raag Des I think, which again was one of my favorites from their father's recordings. The audio is from my trusty digital camera's microphone and is surprisingly listenable.<br />
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<b>2. Chamanay Ke Ta Qayamat -- Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali Qawwal</b><br />
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This is one of those recordings that I fell in love with as soon as I heard the opening instrumental strains. There's clarinet in there, and a sarangi, and God knows what else; all brewing a heady, intoxicating prelude to the kalaam itself. The fact that the kalaam is one of the most beautifully mellifluous ghazals of Maulana Rumi (RA)'s Divan-e-Shams, being sung by THE greatest Qawwals of the 20th century in a superbly clear recording multiplied the pleasure a hundredfold. The two Ustads' voices have rarely complimented each other as beautifully as on this recording. The mini-takrars, the mini bol-taans and the lovely bol-baant make this piece and absolute and utter masterpiece. Despite the urgency of the takraars, there is no hurried-ness whatsoever, as the Ustads linger on every syllable and every note, taking two or three attempts in an attempt to get the pronunciation *just* right. I love this recording and have loved it from the moment I first heard it. Again, it was much later that I realized that the composition was in raag Kedara.<br />
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<b>3. Dekhta Hoon Jab Unhain -- Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal</b><br />
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From a pristine studio recording of the "Ustaadon ke Ustaads" , we move to a rather shabbily recorded Mehfil performance of one of their greatest shagirds. Bakhshi Khan, Mubarak Ali Khan, Sadiq Ali Khan Saddo and Co. ably accompany Salamat Ali Khan in this lovely Urdu ghazal. The themes of the ghazal are the Sufi concepts of "Fanaa" and "Wahdat-ul-Wujood", encapsulated in the lovely final verse<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>یہ کمالِ بے خودی ہے یا مقامِ آگہی</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>آج تو اپنے ہی قدموں پر جھکا جاتا ہوں میں</i></span></div>
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It's a long piece with some lovely pieces of taankaari, without any extravagant or flashy embellishments, just the way I like it. I consider the recordings of Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal to be 'qawwali primers', perfect for introducing lay-listeners and neophytes to the wonderful world of Qawwali. This recording is presented as Exhibit A.<br />
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<b>4. Iss Ishq Ke Haathon Se -- Aziz Ahmed Warsi Qawwal</b><br />
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The next selection is from the king of Deccan-style Qawwali. Aziz Ahmed Khan Warsi's style is distinct not only from other Qawwals, but also from his cousins and nephews in the Qawwal Bacchon ka Gharana. His staccato harmonium-playing, loose-limbed layakaari and sharp, textured voice made him stand out from his contemporaries. His choie of kalaams was always impeccable, focusing on ghazals from Urdu's pre-eminent poets. Here, he sings a beautiful Jigar Muradabadi ghazal. Jigar has remained a favorite of both the Qawwals as well as the various Shaykhs of the Sufi shrines across the subcontinent. This performance makes the reason plain. There are themes of love, longing and yearning, with false hopes of benevolence and attention from the 'Beloved' couched in simple, evocative phrases that can appeal to the lay-listener and connoisseur alike.<br />
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<b>5. Khabaram Raseed Imshab -- Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan Qawwal & Party</b><br />
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I'll put this out there as a Universal Truth; "Live at the Kufa Gallery' is the greatest Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan album. It is the perfect album to gainsay his detractors who claim that he eschewed the Classical elements of Qawwali for showmanship and callisthenics. It is also one of the final recordings of his 'Original' party, consisting of Mujahid Mubarak Ali Khan. Here, Nusrat takes a long alaap and starts with a lovely little verse. Dildar Hussain's tabla then provides a steady beat for Nusrat to weave his magic upon. In this recording, Nusrat uses the Kedara based tarz of this ghazal originally used by his father and uncle in a recording made in the early '60s. This ghazal becomes a tired chestnut in the hands of lesser performers. But with Nusrat actively applying his classical chops here, the ghazal rightfully takes its place as one of the absolute masterpieces of the Sufi canon. The shifts in tempo at each verse, the lovely bol-taans, taankaari and the sparse yet superb girah-bandi elevate this performance into the stratosphere, from where even Rahat's raw and (dare I say it) helium-infused voice can't manage to bring it down.<br />
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<b>6. Main Vi Jaana Jhok Ranjhan Di -- Asif Hussain Santoo Khan Qawwal</b><br />
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In the past I have made no secret of the fact that I do not like Asif Hussain Santoo Khan as a Qawwal. Most of his performances devolve into scream-fests and screechy attempts at impersonating Nusrat. He's a very successful Qawwal and more power to him, but I just can't get myself to forgive the fact that he eschewed the legacy of his legendary grandfather Ustad Santoo Khan and father Ustad Manzoor Hussain in an attempt to become the next Nusrat. Anyway, let's move on. In searching for a Punjabi kalaam set to raag Kedara, I stumbled upon this rendition of Shah Hussain's immortal Kafi. It's taken from an episode of <a href="https://vimeo.com/firdousegosh" target="_blank">Firdous-e-Gosh</a>, PTV's interesting and commendable attempt at reviving Classical music based programming. Each episode would focus on a single raag, comprising performances of Lakshan-geets, classical and semi-classical pieces in that raag. In the episode on raag Kedara, I discovered this rather nice Qawwali by our friend Asif Hussain Santoo Khan, playing against type. The kalaam is a famous Kafi by Shah Hussain, made popular by such stalwarts as Pathanay Khan, Suraiyya Multanekar and Hamid Ali Bela. In this recording, there is no shouting or shor-sharaaba and the Qawwals go through the entire text in a rather respectful style. There is sparse taankaari and a few very nice girahs. All in all, a decent performance of a lovely canonical piece of Sufi poetry. Goes to show that there's potential in most Qawwals if only they cease their attempts at aping Nusrat.<br />
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<b>7. Wafaa Ki Main Ne Buniyaad -- Manzoor Ahmed Niazi Aur Hamnavaa (Barri Party)</b><br />
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I have to thank <a href="http://kidvai.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Zaheer Alam Kidvai</a> Sb for letting me share this recording. I've mentioned this a number of times in the past as well but the fact bears repeating that the recordings he has been releasing under his <a href="http://digitaldiscs.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Ragni Recordings</a> label are worth their weight in gold. The jewels of the collection are the 7 CDs of recordings by the legendary "Barri Party" of Manzoor Ahmed Niazi, Bahauddin Khan, Iftekhar Ahmed Nizami and Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed Qawwals. This beautiful and leisurely recording (30 minutes) finds the entire Barri Party at the peak of their form as they take Seemab Akbarabadi's lovely ghazal into the stratosphere. Despite the slightly scratchy audio quality, the Ustads' lovely layakaari and taankaari shine through. As a friend of mine was wont to say when talking about the Barri Party, "Jahan se ek Ustad chhorta hai, wahaan se doosra urraa ke le jata hai!"(When one Ustad is done with a note, the other swoops in and takes flight). Munshi Raziuddin enunciates each and every syllable of the main kalam, Bahauddin Khan Sb provides lovely sargams and and incomparable vacillating taans, Manzoor Ahmed Niazi Sb's starlingly beautiful voice offers astounding taans in the higher registers while Iftekhar Nizami Sb gravelly bass notes provide the bedrock for the performance. Occasionally there are glimpses of a precocious young Farid Ayaz shining through. Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad and Co were so entranced by this recording that they decided to include this ghazal in their performance repertoire in an emulation of their illustrious elders. My Dream Journey comrades were in Karachi last December to capture the first ever performance of this kalaam, ensuring that the Barri Party's lovely legacy continues to influence the next generations of the Qawwal Bacchon ka Gharaana. The performance ends in a beautiful Tarana which is the perfect bookend to these seven audio recordings of the Kedara.<br />
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<b>8. Al Ishqu Deeni Ma Dum'tu Haiyya -- Taj Muhammad, Shad Muhammad Niazi Qawwal</b><br />
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In a brilliant recording of Amanat Ali-Fateh Ali Khan singing <a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog/raaga-saakh" target="_blank">Raag Saakh</a> posted on the Qaul blog, Fateh Ali Khan says, "Aap ke saamne ab hum apna ghar ka maal pesh kar rahe hain." (We are now laying out our personal belongings before you.) Emulating the laudable example of the late Ustads, the final two recordings in this post are "ghar ka maal" from our Dream Journey series of recordings. The first is a very unusual Arabic kalaam performed by Taj Muhammad, Shad Muhammad Nasir Niazi Qawwals. Taj Muhammad and Shad Muhammad are the younger brothers of the late Ghaus Muhammad Nasir Niazi Qawwal and are the sons of the legendary Moin Niazi Qawwal. They live in Karachi, in the Qawwal Gali or Qawwal Street, named afteer their late father. They hail from the Atrauli gharana and have a melodious and very understated style, similar to their illustrious brother. Their performances rarely descend into shouting matches and they have a unique repertoire featuring some very interesting pieces, such as this kalaam. The Arabic was a tad too knotty for me to translate alone, so we had some outside help, but it was worth making the extra effort, as the Ruba'i is really lovely. The Qawwals end this short and sweet performance with a lovely taraana in Raag Zeelaf.<br />
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<b>9. Surkh Aankhon Main Kajal -- Ameer Ali Khan Qawwal</b><br />
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One of the Dream Journey collective's favorite Qawwali performances is "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7wsQloFS_s" target="_blank">Surkh Aankhon Main Kaajal Ke Doray</a>" by Ameer Ali-Rafeeq Ali Murkianwale Qawwal. It's a 30 minute sustained explosion of joy. When we planned to visit Ustad Ameer Ali Khan at Dipalpur for the December 2014 Dream Journey sessions, this kalaam was at the top of everyone's list of requests. Ameer Ali Khan himself was eager to present it before us and this eagerness and joy shines through in this performance. The atmosphere of the Qawwals' home, with their friends and family sitting in attendance; the infectiously joyous style of performance and the thrill of hearing our favorite kalaam live turned this performance into a truly magical experience for us all. No detailed descriptions here, the performance speaks for itself.<br />
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-35204530356431341972017-03-25T13:31:00.002+05:002017-03-25T13:31:36.127+05:00...On the 'March' of Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
1. Earlier this month, I turned thirty. The big Three-O. A couple of weeks prior to that, this blog turned ten. I figured I'd maximize efficiency and kill two birds with one stone so here goes.<br />
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2. I started the blog at the fag end of my teens, so for better or worse, it has served as a sort of chronicle for the third decade of my life.<br />
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3. As decades go, this one has been a mixed bag. There have been a number of <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2015/04/of-sabeen-mahmud-personal-reminiscence.html" target="_blank">truly</a> <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2011/12/winter-has-come.html" target="_blank">dark</a> <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2008/02/of-mourning.html" target="_blank">days</a>, the sudden, shattering horror of which I shall not forget till my dying breath.<br />
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4. But there have also been moments of such absolute, sunlit perfection that the passage of years has not dimmed their glow one bit. Most of these days have gone undocumented because of my perverse habit of keeping my sorrows public and the joys private.<br />
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5. I started this decade in Med School in Rawalpindi. The med-school years - the first one-third of the decade - fulfilled their basic function of turning me into a doctor and then some. The lifelong (hopefully) friendships and camaraderie far overshadowed the occasional bouts bureaucratic and administrative ugliness. In addition, the Med-school years provided me with one of the BIG MOMENTS of my life - my introduction to Qawwali.<br />
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6. I did my medical internship (House-job) in Lahore. I can safely say that very few people would have been able to squeezed as much activity into one year as I did. Despite living there for only one year, Lahore remains my favorite city in Pakistan.<br />
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7. Post-Lahore were my by now world famous "Three years in the Jungle" where I cavorted with snakes, dodged lightning strikes, lived in a hole in the ground like a Hobbit and suffered through a telecommunications detox so severe that the sight of a phone was almost alien to me by the time I had left. I can only summarize the three years by saying that they were not un-enjoyable times.<br />
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8. After three years of a congealed existence, the next two years were spent being shaken, rattled and rolled all over the country; from the deserts of Southern Punjab to the frozen far north to the unwelcoming western borders.<br />
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9. As if to complete the circle, the end of the second decade of my life sees me back where I started it, Rawalpindi. In another strange coincidence, I am once again engaged in an education of the medical persuasion; a specialty residency this time, and I'm once again surrounded by (almost) the entire bunch of friends and associates from my Med-school days.<br />
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10. In an effort to revisit (and repair) the memories of the last ten years of the blog, I've tried to resurrect all the dead links and remove all the horrible coding errors. Everything works (for now) and everything's pretty much the way I wanted it to be. In a happy coincidence, that also applies to me as I enter my thirties.<br />
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Cheers !!</div>
Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-85885262515295744122017-02-27T18:03:00.000+05:002017-02-27T18:03:00.292+05:00...Of Announcements, Astute Observations and the Aftaab-e-Sitar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I attribute the long hibernation of this blog to a number of factors. My legendary laziness is obviously at the top of the list, but it is compounded by a number of other contributing factors. There is the steady series of transcriptions and translations for the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0kcaJDne8ywNbjRzjL8xCQ" target="_blank">Dream</a> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dreamjourneyfilm/" target="_blank">Journey</a> project , a project that has evolved into a continuously enriching part of my life. Then there's the fact that i'm a year and a half into a rather grueling four year post-graduate residency program in a medical specialty, and try as I might to procrastinate, I have to actually apply myself every so often in order to do justice to my chosen profession. A rather recent reason is the fact that I got married at the end of last year, something that - counter to Douglas Adams' views about the creation of the universe - has widely been regarded as a 'Good Move.'<br />
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I've frequently thought of resuming my sporadic blog posts but until now, havent really gotten around to it. This time however, I have come up with what Baldrick from Blackadder would call a cunning plan. Finding myself with a few days to spare before hunkering down to study for an important exam, I have actually written down a series of posts and put them on ice to be published at pre-scheduled intervals over the coming weeks. It's a small step towards this blog returning to some semblance of life, but at least its a start. This post serves as the announcement for a resumption of festivities - or hostilities, depending on your point of view. </div>
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As a welcome gift at the blog's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KH97Sp5jRE" target="_blank">Grand Re-Re-Re-Re-Opening</a>, I'd like to offer an exquisite hour and a half of music. But first, a few words of introduction. Number one. The fact that I know next to nothing about Classical music didn't detract me one bit from my enjoyment of this piece, something that encourages me into thinking that same shall be the case with the readers, Two, one of the reasons I consider my recent betrothal a 'Good Move' is that the missus has proven herself to be surprisingly tolerant and appreciative of my eclectic (the understatement of the century) tastes in entertainment. Not only that, she is also an extremely astute viewing/listening companion. This was borne on me when I was first listening to the piece I'm sharing below. She listened to it for a while and remarked, "<i>This gentleman is playing beautifully and knows it.</i>" That one sentences eclipses any further paragraphs I may have written in praise of this piece. So I'll eschew further descriptions altogether and share this beautiful, magical performance by a beautiful, magical musician.</div>
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<b>Ustad Vilayat Khan - Raag Hameer - Live at the Royal Festival Hall, 1993</b></div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-9013030048176668382016-11-11T15:59:00.000+05:002018-06-20T22:17:11.504+05:00...Of Field Commander Cohen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Years ago, I deferred the supervision of all matters of the heart to a five member committee. A group of five wise men; an esteemed and exalted group who held each other and were held by "my" kind of people in very high esteem. Each new adventure, disappointment, opportunity, setback or absurdity was seen through the prism of their collective judgement.<br />
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There was the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRvnsj8G7QM">Boss</a>; chronicler of the high drama of my everyday life, bard of microcosmic epics and raconteur of the ageless, timeless and altogether abstract Youth. A constant entreater towards optimism, reminding me of the nobility and beauty of daily life, the Boss taught me to set my sights on a dream and to let it permeate every living moment.<br />
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There was ol' <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gALPWW9QByQ">Shakey</a>; singing of Old Men, of Needles and the Damage done, of Harvest Moons and murderous conquistadors. With a steely, cranky conscience, distilled through the distorted, fuzzed out guitar and the reedy, insistent voice, Shakey instructed me to Walk On, to pursue harebrained schemes and lofty, un-achievable ideals, all the while maintaining a half bemused, half contemptuous smirk on my face.<br />
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Then there was <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ4UymgYKNE">Mr. Waits</a>; organ grinder, carnival barker, a cross between Dr. Caligari and Baron Munchhausen. Twister of reality, reveler in the absurd, gleeful in his inebriation and trickery yet the ideal guide for an exploration of the fun-house mirror world of the heart. He taught me to reconcile with chaos, to find meaning within insanity, to look for the hidden wells of tenderness and kindness within crusty, decrepit and profaned exteriors.<br />
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Next came <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_b9jdjmoNE">Bob</a>. Zimmy. Elston Gunn. Jack Frost. Lucky Wilbury. Blind Boy Grunt. Him of the many names and the many personalities. Voice-giver to undiscovered, unexplored and unmentionable thoughts, exemplar of aging forwards, backwards, sideways and every-other-way, populating my life with innumerable friends, countless stories and unsolvable paradoxes, opener of a thousand doorways and companion at all ports and in all weathers.<br />
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Finally, there was the Field Commander. The Traitor, the Partisan. With his wry smile, his sad eyes and his unbelievable, almost smarmy charm, he taught me calmness, forbearance and the ability to find humor, even hilarity in the ravages of the heart. He framed my defeats in military, almost heroic terms and taught me that even retreat has its secret pleasures. He told me that the carnal and the profane were just as holy and as cathartic as the spiritual and the exalted.<br />
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These five men have ruled my heart, occasionally as an authoritative military junta, other times as a benevolent five man monarchy. And even though there has been something of a revolving presidency to this Board of Governors, I have always known who has had the final right of approval, the one to whom the others have always deferred because of his wisdom, his grace and his insight.<br />
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And now that wise, sweet, wicked, funny, morose man is no more. May he rest in peace. His place will forever remain in the committee, and his shall always be the final say. </div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-76340745649871526972016-07-09T12:34:00.000+05:002018-06-20T22:17:35.200+05:00Rest in Peace Edhi sa'ab ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Arguably Pakistan's greatest citizen has passed away. May he rest in eternal paradise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While everybody is taking to social media to mourn the loss of Edhi saab, there are more productive ways to express your grief.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. Pray for him. Offer fateha, organize ghaibaana namaaz-e-janaaza or pray according to your own religious convictions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. Donate. Go to <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.edhi.org%2F&h=JAQEDYUCvAQFupcM5UuiMdiJzNJD_VI7v1PNOA2X3f9iG3A&enc=AZOie1SlnhkSo0uAEev51YOOzb2Re4DeCTNkePTg3nwXeVZCunCB5aZVmSPnq8_KxdXBu4mJbuarNvxK9FRvH35IqaSMOoZCK3Gxqmsog9dIp5INWosSupBS_asRzWdyU1C8byipDhH6bN1s-xRFFRg-9YfdC38IfvoSXqRe6OoN85m2p9XIukwuPXJ9avnk12E&s=1" rel="nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">www.edhi.org</a> and donate(You'll have to be patient, the website is crashing because of heavy traffic). It takes five minutes. Alternatively, drop off your contributions at one of the literally hundreds of thousands o<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">f Edhi donation boxes nationwide,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. Think seriously about becoming an organ donor. Go to Transplantation Society of Pakistan's website <a href="http://tx-society-pk.org/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://tx-society-pk.org/</a> and look it up.</span></div>
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4. Try to emulate his example in your daily lives, every little act of kindness helps.</div>
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It would be a shame if the death of Pakistan's greatest citizen does not compel us to anything more than social media comisserations only</div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-62941514785088997682015-11-20T19:48:00.000+05:002015-11-20T19:48:22.111+05:00...Of Further Stops Along The Journey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's coming on to a full year since my fateful <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-dream-journey-discovering-musicians.html">journey of musical discovery</a>, and like the Farsi verse, '<i>the intoxication still lingers in mine eyes</i>'. Over the last year, the partners in crime have begun piecing together the journey into a coherent whole that will be ready for presentation soon. Till then, we've also been regularly releasing some of our favorite selections in audio and video on our <a href="http://facebook.com/dreamjourneyfilm">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0kcaJDne8ywNbjRzjL8xCQ/feed">YouTube</a> and <a href="https://soundcloud.com/dreamjourneyfilm">SoundCloud </a>pages. There's also talk *hush hush* of a reprise of last year's journey this December. As a result, my levels of excitement have been on a wonderfully high plateau all year. There's also been the added benefit that I've been honing my rather shoddy translating skills with each video. Till there's new and more exciting news to share, here's a selection of some of my favorite recordings from our journey.<br />
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1. <b>Al Ishqu Deeni Ma Dum'tu Haiyya - Taj Muhammad, Shad Muhammad Nasir Niazi Qawwal</b><br />
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2. <b>Khayal In Raag Shahana - Ustad Mubarak Ali Khan</b><br />
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3. <b>Surkh Aankhon Main Kajal Ke Doray - Ustad Ameer Ali Khan Qawwal</b><br />
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4. <b>Maa Ra Ba Ghamza Kusht - Ustad Fareed Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal And Brothers</b><br />
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5. <b>Khabaram Raseedah Imshab - Subhan Ahmed Nizami Qawwal And Brothers</b><br />
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-64005515959315819832015-08-16T14:43:00.000+05:002015-08-16T14:43:23.395+05:00...Of The Journey So Far<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Around five months ago, me and <a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/">my</a> <a href="http://qawwal.blogspot.com/">co-conspirators</a> announced the details of our collaborative project entitled "<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-dream-journey-discovering-musicians.html">The Dream Journey - Discovering Musicians Across Pakistan</a>". We had spent the end of December 2014 traveling cross the length of Pakistan, meeting, interviewing, listening to and recording some of the most talented traditional musicians across Pakistan. By the time the trip was over, we had accumulated hundreds of hours of footage and audio, and then began the arduous task of organizing and editing the material into a coherent whole. Apart from our fabulous director/editor, the rest of us had little or no past experience in putting together a project of this magnitude. However, through trial and error, communicating through email, Facebook chat and the occasional albeit wonderful meetings, the team has begun making progress.<br />
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We began by releasing short audio teasers on the project's <a href="https://soundcloud.com/dreamjourneyfilm">Soundcloud page</a> , which were greatly appreciated by the listeners. The next step was to begin sharing the wonderful performances we had recorded, in HD video and audio. And that's what we've been doing for the past three weeks. I was terrifically happy at having participated in this brilliant journey, and after seeing the performances being released, that happiness is mixed with a lot of pride. Our motley crew of enthusiasts has managed to create something really noteworthy, something that will live on long after this project has been forgotten. I am a voracious gatherer of Qawwali recordings (the understatement of the century) and thus have been privileged to see and hear a lot of performances, both on TV and online, and I can state unequivocally that I have not come across anything as wonderfully recorded as our project.<br />
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For those who wish to follow our journey, we are on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dreamjourneyfilm">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/dreamjourneyflm">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/TheDreamJourney">YouTube</a> and <a href="https://instagram.com/dreamjourneyfilm/">Instagram</a>; where our current as well as future releases are being curated. For those who wish to support our project, please go <a href="https://www.paypal.com/ca/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_flow&SESSION=emdC_X3Sg77J0ro2K9CD-ATIHPB6yquV8sPNKOdMfVVS-FihWNcsV1KLFHS&dispatch=5885d80a13c0db1f8e263663d3faee8d5c97cbf3d75cb63effe5661cdf3adb6d">HERE</a> to donate via PayPal. Any and all donations shall be gratefully received and acknowledged.<br />
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Well I can't just leave the gentle reader hanging after writing two paragraphs loaded with superlatives and not sharing what we've released so far. So, without further ado, presenting the first three performances from The Dream Journey - Discovering Musicians Across Pakistan.<br />
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P.S Be sure to watch in HD<br />
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<b>1. Charkha - Ustad Ameer Ali Khan And Party </b><br />
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<b>2. Kaliyan Sang Karat - Ustad Fareed Ayaz - Abu Muhammad Qawwal And Brothers</b><br />
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<b>3. Dil Burd Az Mun - Ustad Abdullah Niazi & Waqas Niazi Qawwal</b><br />
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-89709946354909577602015-05-15T13:34:00.002+05:002018-06-20T22:18:10.202+05:00The King Is Dead, Long Live The King.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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BB King passed away today at the age of 89. Rest in peace sir, and thank you !</div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-88964541782982000822015-05-01T16:48:00.002+05:002015-05-01T17:39:28.985+05:00...Of The Envoy of The Forlorn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The best (and in fact only) way to keep the mind from going to dark and inhospitable places is to keep oneself busy. Therefore ...<br />
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Among the many common threads running through Arabic, Persian and Urdu literature is the extensive use of personification and anthropomorphism. Gazelles are coquettes, blooming flowers are the hearts of lovers, the moon is a lancet, reawakening old wounds, or a shepherd tending the flock of stars. These allusions, especially when used by poets and artists with a mystical bent, are used to wonderfully encapsulate intricate metaphysical ideas and make them not only palatable but also relatable to the audience. The canon of folk and Sufi poetry is eminently enriched by these literary devices, and most of them are well known even to the lay-reader or listener.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAsvt_9o2gbbgoWolwqii60g6d0tiHHC2K2K1u1w2aMi414MmeHjBY0J9p9tJGWHopbSOw5JmjGUnDkGXt5ardsk-apWlb-gD_oMeIYu1T0z-e969DLEuIBSy1hs3aAM8OzNdnm7aQVla/s1600/Breeze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAsvt_9o2gbbgoWolwqii60g6d0tiHHC2K2K1u1w2aMi414MmeHjBY0J9p9tJGWHopbSOw5JmjGUnDkGXt5ardsk-apWlb-gD_oMeIYu1T0z-e969DLEuIBSy1hs3aAM8OzNdnm7aQVla/s1600/Breeze.jpg" height="290" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A tree in the breeze. Mughal era painting, Masjid Wazir Khan</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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One of the most commonly used literary devices is that of the breeze - 'sabaa', 'naseem' or 'baad' - as a messenger, a confidant and a bearer of tidings. For centuries, poets have used the breeze to convey their innermost hopes and desires to the 'beloved'. With Sufi poets, the breeze is their only conduit to the faraway land of Arabia where their beloved, the Prophet (S.A.W) resides. They offer salutations, pleas, lamentations, offerings of devotion and hopes for Union, and hope that the breeze carries these messages across faraway lands to the court of the Prophet (SAW), where it will give a true account of all that they have endured in their separation. There is a charming, endearing quality to these kalaams, along with deep pathos and melancholy, as the poets seem unable to bridge the distances and instead pour their hearts out to the only envoy they can trust, the breeze.<br />
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Many Qawwali recordings feature such kalaams, in fact they are some of the most popular kalaams of the Qawwali repertoire. Probably because the listeners, both initiated into Sufism as well as novices, transpose their own hopes, fears and longings into those of the poets', and hope that the trusty messenger will fulfill its duty to them as it has done for the poets long passed. Following are some of my favorite Qawwali performances where the breeze is addressed as a messenger, and in choosing from among the hundreds of similar performances, I've followed the rules I lay down in some of my earlier posts; one recording per kalaam and one recording per artist.<br />
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<b>1. Innilti Ya Reeh-as-Sabaa - Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan & Party</b><br />
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This is my kind of Nusrat recording. Intimate, focused and 'ba-ihteraam'. So intimate in-fact that Nusrat's "munshi" or prompter can be clearly heard guiding him through the verses. The celebrated Na'at by Hz Imam Zain-ul-Abideen (R.A) is beautiful in its evocative imagery and its pensive and heartfelt adoration of the Prophet (S.A.W). Nusrat wonderfully displays these qualities of the kalaam and sets the perfect tone with the Rubaai's at the start of the performance -the title of this post is derived from one of the phrases in the introductory Rubaai. The microphones seem to have been placed in such a way that only Nusrat, his brother Farrukh Fateh Ali, Farrukh's harmonium and Dildar Hussain's tabla can be heard in the foreground. I don't know what Raag this performance is based on, but the mood it evokes is perfect for this kalaam. Dildar Hussain's tabla is restrained, even during the up-tempo parts, and it lends an Arabic cadence to the entire performance. The entire party (which is the classic 1980's party by the sound of it) is wonderful in fact, offering taans and murkis only when required. It is a masterclass in minimalism.<br />
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<b>2. Saba Ba Soo-e-Madina Ro Kun - Abdullah Manzoor Niazi Qawwal</b><br />
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Abdullah Manzoor Niazi is a wonderful Qawwal, with a mature, well rounded performance style and perfect command on the amazing voice he possesses. He spent his formative years as part of his uncle Ustad Bahauddin Khan's party, and later accompanied his father, Ustad Manzoor Ahmed Niazi. His performance style encompasses the best qualities of both the great ustaads; the vigor and vitality of Bahauddin Khan and the sweetness and melodic depth of Manzoor Niazi Sb. In this live recording of Hz Nizam-ud-Din Auliya (R.A)'s kalaam, he is accompanied by his younger brother. Again, the mood is pensive and restrained, just like the morning breeze being addressed, with wonderful flourishes (like at the 4 minute mark). Hz Nizam (R.A) offers a series of instructions to his messenger, instructions that are both charming in their affection and deeply poignant with the sense of separation. I love this na'at very much, and Abdullah Niazi's performance suits it perfectly.<br />
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<b>3. Saba Madinay Main Mustafa Se - Manzoor Ahmed Niazi Qawwal Aur Hamnavaa</b><br />
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This is a recording of strange and enchanting power. Taken from the series of priceless <a href="http://digitaldiscs.blogspot.com/">recordings released</a> by <a href="http://kidvai.blogspot.com/">Zaheer Alam Kidvai</a> Sb, it features three members of the original "Barri Party" - Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed, Ustad Manzoor Niazi and Iftekhar Ahmed Nizami. The recording is from a performance at somebody's home during the 1960's. The qawwals are launching into their standard performance of this kalaam but are immediately interrupted by the listener who instructs them to perform the kalaam in Raag Lalit. The remaining eleven minutes are a perfect reminder of why these qawwals are considered great Ustaads. The mood immediately becomes introspective, melancholy and resigned, as if the enormity of the separation from the Prophet (S.A.W) has suddenly become apparent to performers. The three voices are absolutely beautiful, Razi mian is rapier sharp, Manzoor Niazi is mellifluous and earthy, and Iftekhar Nizami is full of longing and love. Considering how woefully underrecorded he was in his brief life, I especially love this recording because of the prominent place Iftekhar Nizami's voice occupies here. His taans and girahs elicit sighs of 'haaye' from Razi mian, and I don't blame him. The taans are powerful, the performance is brilliant, and the sustained last note is perfect.<br />
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<b>4. Naseema Jaanibe Bat'haa Guzar Kun - Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal & Party</b><br />
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In my opinion, this legendary Na'at of Hz Jami (RA) rightfully belongs to Ustad Manzoor Niazi, but since I've included him in the recording above, I'll share a recording by another artist who can rightfully stake his claim on the na'at. Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi was arguably the greatest shagird of Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali Khan ( that's saying a lot considering other shagirds included Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal, Agha Bashir Qawwal and Nusrat himself), and he was probably the only shagird who consciously or subconsciously moulded his style on that of his Ustads. In this performance he is accompanied by younger brother Abdul Majeed Fareedi and Inayat Ali Khan, with Naseeb Khan on tabla, all of whom had performed in Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali's party at one time or another. The recording is very shoddy, but the power comes through unhindered. Ths shifts in tempo, the exquisite girahbandi and taankaari, and the various thundering yet complicated takraars have rarely been emulated by any other qawwal, the takraars especially. There are a million wonderful facets to this performance, and it takes multiple listenings to appreciate them. It is a fitting testament to Fareedi Sb's talent that when I was planning this post, I chose his performance of Naseema over his Ustads.<br />
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<b>5. Naseema Qasidaana Vais Laveen - Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal</b><br />
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One of the main reasons I kept off writing this post was because I originally intended to do a post on this subject featuring only recordings by Haji Mahboob Sb, such was the depth of his repertoire. Later, when I decided on including a number of artists, I couldn't decide which of Haji Sb's recordings would best serve as a representative sample of his repertoire. Finally, I decided on this one because of a number of reasons. The main kalaam is a Punjabi 'nazm' written by Hz Pir Mehr Ali Shah (RA) in the style of Hz Jami (RA)'s mathnavi 'Yousuf Zulaikha", and Haji Sb uses verses from a number of other kalaams in Farsi and Punjabi to create a seamless whole from disparate sources. In the background is Haji Sb's sitar, Haji Mushtaq Ali's voice, his harmonium and the tabla; and at the fore are love, devotion and longing for the Prophet (S.A.W). The mood is languorous and pensive, full of the desire for Union. Like Hz Nizam-ud-Din (RA)'s kalaam above, the breeze is instructed to hurry to the 'land of the beautiful beloved' and there, offer prostrations and salutations to the beloved. With instructions on respectful etiquette, the breeze is dispatched with offerings of love, tales of longing and entreaties for union. Along the way, almost imperceptibly, the na'at morphs into something out of the great Punjabi love epics. It is a wonderful performance.<br />
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<b>6. Payaam Laayi Hai Baad-e-Sabaa - Manzoor Hussain Santoo Khan Qawwal</b><br />
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The breeze is usually a messenger for the lover, taking away messages of longing and despair, but occasionally, when the Beloved is generous with his benevolence, it can also bring back news from faraway lands. That's the case in this recording by Manzoor Hussain Santoo Khan and party. The trademark clarinet starts it off, and the powerful voices take it over from there. This leaders of this party were instructed by Santoo Khan Qawwal, a disciple of Bhai Lal Rabaabi of the Gwalior gharana, and their style is distinct from their contemporaries. The voices are rich, deep and incisive, the instruments are unobtrusive and the tempo is lively and energetic. Manzoor Hussain Santoo still performs regularly with his son's party and despite the frailties of age, his occasional taans still retain the vitality and vivacity of this and ealier performances.<br />
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<b>7. Ayi Naseem-e-Koo-e Muhammad (SAW) - Nusrat and Azimullah Qawwal</b><br />
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This kalaam of Bedam Shah Warsi (RA) is one of the most famous na'ats in Urdu, and justifiably so. Its imagery, sentiments and natural melodiousness make it a favorite of qawwals and na'at-khwaans, ensuring that almost everyone has sung it. I shall end this post by one of the simplest, most unadorned and understatedly brilliant performances in my collection. Three performers - hereditary qawwals from Firangi Mehal in Lucknow, one harmonium and one tabla, in a performance barely lasting five minutes.<br />
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-36251845223292811662015-04-26T13:00:00.001+05:002018-06-20T22:18:46.043+05:00...Of Sabeen Mahmud - A Personal Reminiscence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Bad news has a habit of locating me in the remotest of locations. I was in a tent in the middle of the Cholistan desert when, despite practically nonexistent mobile coverage, I received a text from a friend telling me that Sabeen Mahmud had been fatally shot. In a mix of panic and increasing despair, I texted back for a confirmation which, with the dogged inevitability that is the hallmark of horror, arrived soon enough. That was two nights ago. I spent the next twenty-four hours in a jittery, shell-shocked state. Last night when I returned to civilization I had managed to calm down a bit. But as if on cue, my phone started filling up with messages of condolence, tribute and sheer numb despair; and my composure crumbled again. After two sleepless nights, I've finally convinced myself that perhaps writing something might calm me down somewhat.<br />
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It was on Twitter four odd years ago that I was introduced to Sabeen by a mutual friend who thought we shared a common taste for Qawwali (or as Sabeen liked to spell it, Qavvali). I soon discovered that our common interests also included Bruce Springsteen and Hugh Laurie (whom Sabeen fell for after blissfully binge-ing on House MD). As an emotional adolescent who still lives by the credo espoused by High Fidelity's Rob Gordon, "what really matters is what you like, not what you are like", this formed an instant connection. Over the next years, I kept in touch, sometimes helping her translate some knotty Farsi, or comparing notes on which was The Boss' best bootleg (we both eventually agreed it was "Live At The Agora, '78"), or more frequently, asking her to send over the latest <a href="http://digitaldiscs.blogspot.com/">Qavvali CDs that Kidvai Sb regularly put out</a> (the last release has a charming photo of Sabeen on its cover), and then having conversations about the recordings we'd both loved.<br />
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All through this time, I had been keeping up with the wonderful happenings at The Second Floor, the wonderful hub that, to me at least, was Karachi's beating cultural heart. It was the sort of place I'd gladly spend my entire life at if I'd had my druthers. There were film screenings, poetry recitals, seminars and talks, Qavvali performances (which I regularly pestered Sabeen to send me recordings of, and she always graciously complied). Sabeen had almost single-handedly established T2F and had weathered problems that would make a lesser mortal lose hope and give up. Especially harrowing was the armed burglary that had interrupted a session at T2F and had forced it to shut down. But Sabeen found a new, safer location, reopened T2F,christened it T2F 2.0 and went back to what she called her 'ridiculously high-minded' ambition of providing a safe, open and engaging hub of intellect and culture for Karachi.<br />
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Despite frequent difficulties, financial and otherwise, Sabeen and T2F powered on and became an integral part of Karachi's cultural landscape. She was also the one person who unreservedly deserved to put the word "activist" in her bio. An unabashed bleeding-heart liberal, she was a street-fighter and a rabble-rouser ; marching, rallying and protesting in Karachi, Islamabad, Peshawar or wherever she felt the need to voice her opinions, actively and joyously participating in political rallies irrespective of the political party involved. She voiced opinions that were either unpopular or at the very least unmentionable because of fear of reprisals. But her self-confessed cavalier attitude towards fear led her to shout from the rooftops for everything she believed in. <br />
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At the end of last year, when I was planning my trip to Karachi, one of the things I was most looking forward to was finally meeting Sabeen and visiting T2F. We had planned to hold a number of Qavvali mehfils at T2F and had asked her for permission. Sabeen and the entire T2F staff were busy curating and organizing the "Creative Karachi" festival at that time and were neck deep in the administrative and logistical jumble that the festival entailed. Not only did she allow us to use her premises, she instructed her staff, who had been working nonstop for the last week or so, to make sure that we had everything we needed to make our recording sessions a success, even allowing us to tinker with T2F's decor to suit our needs. We had coordinated all of this on Facebook and I was aching for a face to face meeting, so the day I landed in Karachi, I hurried off with a few friends to the Creative Karachi festival, hoping to catch Sabeen.<br />
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I found her patiently answering a list of boring questions posed by a television reporter who clearly had better things to do and better places to go to. When she caught my eye, her wonderful half-smile and a resigned shrug of her shoulders told me how much she was enjoying the interview. After she'd finished, I introduced myself, received a wonderful hug and instructions to look her up later that evening when the chaos had settled a bit. Before returning from the festival, I met her again and we chatted for a while before she was again swept away to her administrative duties. The next day, she visited T2F as we were getting ready to record a performance by Subhan Ahmed Nizami, and this time we chatted for a good half hour. She was utterly exhausted after the successful conclusion of the festival, but she was pleased and awfully proud of her staff for having carried it off so well. After she'd left, we finished our recording sessions, bought the latest batch of Kidvai Sb's CDs, thanked the staff, rearranged whatever we had altered in T2F and left, hoping to return again. After completing our journey and returning home, I thanked Sabeen for allowing us use of T2F and her staff, and hoping to meet again soon, and she responded with similar hopes.<br />
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The trip to Karachi is a source of many wonderful memories but one of the biggest thrills for me had been finally meeting Sabeen and visiting T2F. She was exactly like I'd imagined her to be, and more. Animated, frank, with a brilliant sense of humor and a complete absence of cynicism, she was a person so absolutely and vitally 'alive' in every sense of the word that it is absolutely impossible for me to think of her in the past tense.The outpouring of grief, messages of condolence and support has been widespread, and I hope Sabeen's family and friends find comfort in the fact that she was respected, admired and genuinely loved by so many. Once the initial, paralyzing shock has passed, it will be time to carry her legacy forward. T2F will (hopefully) carry on, providing a template to encourage the development of similar safe havens for thought and speech. Her tradition of activism will continue to inspire more people to leave the comfort of their armchairs and actively engage in the causes they believe in. Her half-smile will continue to live in the hearts of her friends and admirers, providing encouragement when despair and cynicism start creeping in.<br />
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It is sadly fitting that a friendship that began online should have had it's premature end online too. A week ago, idling the hours away at the internet, I'd stumbled across a silly little quote about one of Bruce Springsteen's songs. It had made me laugh and I decided to share it on Facebook. As I was typing it out, I remember thinking to myself, "I bet Sabeen would get a laugh out of this". Sure enough, five minutes later, there was a comment by her, a chuckle. That was the last time I heard from her and that's how I'd like to remember her, chuckling at something silly, with the twinkle in her eye and the characteristic little shake of her head. Like many others, I too shall find closure and her memory will become a source of solace and comfort for me. But for now, while the wound is still fresh and tears are still precariously close, I shall listen to one of her favorite pieces of music by one of her favorite artists; a recording that has, in a cruel twist of fate, become a lament for her. As for how I shall honor her memory, I was discussing it with a friend last night and I think I've decided what I shall do. If and when I ever have a daughter of my own, I know what to name her, and hopefully she shall grow up to be worthy of that name. Goodbye Sabeen, God bless !!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Ae Daiyya, Kahan Gaye Vae Log?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Lord, where have those people gone?"</span></div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-85410067957113671442015-04-03T08:31:00.000+05:002015-04-03T09:09:23.350+05:00The Dream Journey - Discovering Musicians Across Pakistan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-02dea9a8-5256-8a5d-fcf7-8a4fe46098bf" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Dream Journey – Discovering Musicians Across Pakistan</span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnlZlwQK5mP1HQXjAJmNJKB8AaJOXjq61Q1HioYXxXpbtKo9-C3Dd50vKweIq7EE93wBScvtxgpn_qdnXG1Yg8SWVUkO9spjIZoE1PPSgxlYh5UNSMcLXI0h9WUrb0rTAsjhF9lumckqA/s1600/10547934_10152534571606586_1795610225823764303_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnlZlwQK5mP1HQXjAJmNJKB8AaJOXjq61Q1HioYXxXpbtKo9-C3Dd50vKweIq7EE93wBScvtxgpn_qdnXG1Yg8SWVUkO9spjIZoE1PPSgxlYh5UNSMcLXI0h9WUrb0rTAsjhF9lumckqA/s1600/10547934_10152534571606586_1795610225823764303_o.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Subhan Ahmed Nizami</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A
film about an exhilarating eight day journey of five friends with a
shared passion for discovering and recording musicians in their living
environments across Pakistan. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
sessions of in depth conversations and vocal musical performances
recorded and filmed cover several musical forms in the Indo Pakistani
tradition, including Thumri, Kaafi, Ghazal, Qawwali and Khyaal. The
kalaams that the musicians drew from spanned the whole spectrum of great
poets: Khusrau, Jalal ud din Rumi, Kabir, Baba Bulleh Shah, Waris Shah,
Iqbal, Faiz and numerous mystic poets of India and Pakistan. The
performances evoked memories of the verdant lushness of the Punjab, the
haunting mysticism of the Great Rajputana and Sind Deserts, the vibrancy
of Hazrat Nizamuddin’s Delhi, the great aura of Ajmer, the majestic
beauty of the Indo-Gangetic plain.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Some
of the musicians are established and famous, others are amongst the
brilliant budding talent that adorns Pakistan’s musical scene. Each of
the mehfils has a distinct atmosphere and mood, but there is a common
thread. We asked each of the musicians to stay close to their respective
inherited musical traditions, allowing the singers an opportunity to
present some pieces that are rarely heard today. </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhUYil6t61BGYGXwWq1sud3VZwHzt7jmRs3IE7UGo7zhDxbFc2G9rtFDOicKkUHgzI8OnqFw5oscCR5YLl0tPW-93eEQJ03PY2cbSza5ri3QXAkR3k10RM_v2vnwiJRnvDyFsOyXkT57X/s1600/10848839_10152534656086586_452301349260008625_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhUYil6t61BGYGXwWq1sud3VZwHzt7jmRs3IE7UGo7zhDxbFc2G9rtFDOicKkUHgzI8OnqFw5oscCR5YLl0tPW-93eEQJ03PY2cbSza5ri3QXAkR3k10RM_v2vnwiJRnvDyFsOyXkT57X/s1600/10848839_10152534656086586_452301349260008625_o.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shafqat Ali Khan Qawwal</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We
are inspired to present the brilliance of this contemporary Pakistani
vocal music to a wider audience in a documentary film of the journey and
an additional series of HD audio/video releases of each Mehfil. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><u><b>Featuring</b></u>:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mustafa Khan & Muhammad Shah</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hamza Akram</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Moiz <span style="font-family: inherit;">& </span>Ghayoor Ahmed</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ahmad Raza</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Taj Muhammad &<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>Shad Muhammad Niazi</span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Subhan Ahmed Nizami</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ustad Abdullah Niazi &<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>Waqas Niazi</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ustad Ameer Ali Khan &<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>Imran Ali Khan</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ustad Farid Ayaz &<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>Ustad Abu Muhammad</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ustad Mubarak Ali Khan</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8b1lbcjBAk8EHI_xdEDYk5e0uWe8YzzOEcs9UnMIGT6uODMBI02UT3prZXTkbF4qwJgtiaxmm38nvB6AjWUPD4erP6PSBo48Af7ZlVdvR4_4w-fZLXdhPGuno6SUEmdzSuwSe5B9lg0_y/s1600/1502358_10152534552241586_8858414823445808450_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8b1lbcjBAk8EHI_xdEDYk5e0uWe8YzzOEcs9UnMIGT6uODMBI02UT3prZXTkbF4qwJgtiaxmm38nvB6AjWUPD4erP6PSBo48Af7ZlVdvR4_4w-fZLXdhPGuno6SUEmdzSuwSe5B9lg0_y/s1600/1502358_10152534552241586_8858414823445808450_o.jpg" height="131" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ustad Abdullah Niazi Qawwal</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><u><b>Produced by</b></u>:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.dawn.com/authors/512/vaqar-ahmed" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Vaqar Ahmed</span></a></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Asif Hasnain</span></span></span></a></div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-82411711928968640662015-02-21T13:05:00.001+05:002017-03-25T13:13:05.320+05:00...Of Sacred Soundtracks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I shall begin this post with a gigantic understatement. Music, and specifically film music is an integral part of subcontinental popular culture. Film music has not only entertained the masses for more than eighty years, it has provided a rich vein of music and lyrics that have been mined for everything from advertising slogans to political pitches, from vernacular idioms to the evolution of language itself. In what seems a natural process, the various musical forms of the subcontinent have borrowed freely from one another. The preponderance of Devotional music in film soundtracks is obvious to every lay listener, as is the frequent use of musical arrangements, imagery and lyrics borrowed from everything from Bhajan to Qawwali. On the flip-side, sacred devotional music also bears undeniable imprints of its temporal cousin, with the catchy melodies of famous (and certain not so famous) film songs being molded into everything from Na'ats to Bhajans to Qawwalis.<br />
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Subcontinental film music from the 'Golden Age' - the 1940's to the 1960's - is probably the earliest in my list of pop-culture affections. For as long as I can remember, I have been humming - and in the early, dark days of pre-pubescent debauchery, even dancing to - those wonderful melodies that seem to have achieved immortality the moment they were released. My love of early film music has been well documented before, as has my (slightly) recent love of Qawwali. I think its about time I did some amalgamatin' and brought both of my favorite forms of music together. There are dozens of Qawwali recordings by dozens of artists where film tunes have been used with slight (or extensive) lyrical modifications, but I'll restrict myself to some of my favorites. Here we go !<br />
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1. <b>The Film song : Yeh Lo Main Haari Piya - Geeta Dutt. (OP Nayyar, Majrooh - Aar Paar - 1954)</b><br />
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Guru Dutt is one of my favorite filmmakers, OP Nayyar one of my favorite composers and Geeta Dutt had one of the most distinctive voices ever. This song from Aar Paar has Nayyar's trademark castanets and Majrooh's easygoing lyrics, and combined with Geeta Dutt's flirtatious delivery and Lahore born Shyama's twinkling eyes, the song manages to win not only Guru Dutt's heart, but of the listeners too.<br />
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<b>The Qawwali - Bande Di Soorat Vicchon - Barre Karam Din Sabri Qawwal</b><br />
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this is the earliest evidence I could find of a film tune being used in a Qawwali, I'm sure there are ones from even earlier, and I'd love to see them mentioned in the comments. This recording, labelled only "1956" when i found it, is by a group of Punjabi Qawwals with a wonderful set of voices. It's a Naatiya kalaam - a kalaam in praise of the Prophet (SAW) released as a 78 RPM two years after the release of the film song that directly influences it. Karam Din Qawwal, one of the three major Qawwals of the Jalandhar region from the '30s - (along with Din Muhammad Qawwal and Arhooray Khan Qawwal) was the father of Mattay Khan-Nazeer Hussain Qawwals and the grandfather of Kashif Hussain-Zahid Hussain Qawwals.<br />
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2. <b>The Song - Thandi Hawaien -Lata Mangeshkar ( SD Burman, Sahir - Naujawan - 1951)</b><br />
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What's not to love about this song ? Lata's voice is at its peak of youthful vitality, SD Burman provides a twinkling cascade of clarinets, xylophones, slide guitars and pianos, and Sahir Ludhianvi uses the word 'jhainp - جھینپ' in a song (a feat worth a Filmfare award at least). And its picturized on Nalini Jaiwant, the wonderful combination of Betty Boop and Bette Davis who I've had a crush on for as long as I can remember. <br />
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<b>The Qawwali - Taeba Ko Jaayen, Bipta Sunaayen - Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal</b><br />
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Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi, accompanied by Abdul Majeed Fareedi and Inayat Ali Khan, with Ustad Naseeb Khan on the tabla turn the SD Burman composition into a wonderful supplicating Na'at. Beginning with a brilliant sazeena and doha, Fareedi Sb leads his able and willing party into what is a complicated musical arrangement to say the least. But Abdul Majeed Fareedi's effortlessly beautiful Taans and the party's trademark Takraars turn what could have been a trying endeavor into a brilliant musical journey. As the first of the takraars starts around the 12 minute mark, and the girahs and taans start following each other, the Na'at becomes almost a marching song, leading the party of travelers towards Taeba. The recording quality deteriorates towards the latter half of the performance, but this is one journey worth sticking with till the end.<br />
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3.<b> The Song - Bahaaro Mera Jeewan Bhi Sanwaaro - Lata Mangeshkar (Khayyam, Kaifi Azmi - Akhri Khat - 1966)</b><br />
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Khayyam is one of my favorite composers, imbuing each of his melodies with a unique sense of calm and serenity. Here he uses Kaifi Azmi's lyrics and Lata's voice and colors the black and white cherry blossoms with fleeting notes from the Sitar and the Flute. Plus, an impossibly young Rajesh Khanna !!<br />
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<b>The Qawwali - Pukaro, Shah-e-Jilaan Ko Pukaaro - Mubarak Ali Niaz Ali Qawwal</b><br />
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Mubarak Ali, Niaz Ali, Tufail Khan and Gulloo Khan; four of the most distinctive voices in Qawwali, all in one party ! This party adopted a 'take no prisoners' attitude towards each performance and injected a million kilowatts of energy into each recording, yet at the same time prevented themselves from straying down the path of screechy bombast. This popular manqabat has been sung by many artists, both Qawwals and otherwise, but Mubarak Ali-Niaz Ali's version is my favorite. Why ? Just listen to the voices man !<br />
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4. <b>The Song - Chandni Raatein - Noor Jehan (Feroze Nizami - Dopatta - 1952)</b><br />
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Dupatta, one of the few early Pakistani films I'm really fond of, had a lot going for it. Noor Jehan, Ajay Kumar and a boyishly hnadsome Lala Sudhir as stars, with my favorite character actor Ghulam Mohammed in a meaty part; a wonderfully sensitive restraint and a lack of melodrama that distinguished it from most films of that period, and an interseting, twisty-turny plot. But above all, the music by Feroze Nizami is what sets this film apart. This song by Noor Jehan is one of the most recognizable songs in subcontinental film history, and needs no dissections on my part.<br />
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<b>The Qawwali - Chandni Raatein - Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal</b><br />
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Of the many, many versions of this Qawwali, this one is my favorite by far. Despite its wobbly recording, it is a fifty minute tour-de-force. I will not say anything about this recording other than presenting it as Exhibit A in favor of my argument that Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi and his party were the true successors of Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali Qawwal.<br />
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5. <b>The Song - Mera Dildaar Na Milaya - Suraiyya (Husnlal-Bhagatram - 1954)</b><br />
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Shama Parwana is a case of a horrible movie redeemed by beautiful music. It would not have been a horrible movie otherwise, but it's end consists of *SPOILER ALERT* Shammi Kapoor being cooked alive in a giant cauldron !! Leaving that unpleasant image aside, the music by the talented but under-appreciated Punjabi brothers Husnlal-Bhagatram is beautiful. Suraiyya sings for herself and Shammi is playbacked by Mohammad Rafi. This song has both male and female versions, and despite the male version featuring Shammi and Rafi Sb - my most favorite combination ever - Suraiyya's version is the one I prefer.<br />
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<b>The Qawwali - Taen Ta Mera Yaar Na Milaya - Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali Qawwal</b><br />
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Everything Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali recorded seemed to bear traces of the 'music of Ainur' that Tolkein talks about. They seem to belong to a different time and place, in fact a different celestial plane altogether if you can indulge my hyperbole for a moment. This 'mehfil' recording made in 1960 in Faisalabad takes Husnlal-Bhagatram's tune and turns it into a mysterious living breathing entity. The tabla sounds like a Pakhawaj or a Mradingam, ringing out each note as the Ustads sing a Punjabi 'shikwa'. The girahs begin at the 2:20 mark and are hair-raising to say the least. An unusual combination of Punjabi and Urdu, it is a recording that I have not heard the like of before or since.<br />
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6. <b>The Song - Nigaahen Mila Kar Badal Jaane Waale - Noor Jehan (Rasheed Attre, Qateel Shifaai - Mehboob - 1962)</b><br />
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Rasheed Attre was another composer who knew how to effectively use Madam's voice, and along with Master Ghulam Haider, Feroze Nizami and Khwaja Khurshid Anwar, provided countless classics in her voice. This song from 1962, like most Pakistani film songs from the '60s, features spartan instrumentation, propelling itself on a simple dholak beat. But Madam's voice and the well constructed asthaais, along with Qateel Shifaai's simple yet evocative lyrics make this an undisputed classic of subcontinental film music history.<br />
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<b>The Qawwali - Khuda Ki Qasam Hai Khuda Jalwagar Hai - Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal</b><br />
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The post will end on one of my most favorite Qawwali recordings ever. This kalaam is rarely sung, infact I've only heard it sung by Haji Sb and Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi, and they've both sung spectacular versions of this kalaam in a number of musical arrangements. Here Haji Sb uses the Rasheed Attre tune from the song above, and despite the film-derived tune, the kalaam does not lose an iota of its power. With the trademark taali-Sitar intro, and a selection from the Mathnavi - Haji Sb was the 'Andaleeb-e-Rumi' after all, this scholarly exposition of the Sufi concept of 'Wahdat-ul-Wujood' starts off. It is a kalaam with deep spiritual meanings, utilizing allegory, simile and references to verses from the Quran to delineate the One-ness of God with His creation, and each verse is pregnant with a wealth of meaning. Haji Sb doesn't use much girah-bandi here, letting the verses unfold their meanings unhindered.<br />
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I am sure I have left out a number of examples, some by design and many others because I might not have heard them yet. All the recordings above go to prove that a) subcontinental film music from the Golden Age is one of the most beautiful of all our cultural treasures, and b) <i>intelligently</i> using popular tunes in devotional music doesn't cause a decrease in their spiritual appeal but actually enhances it. </div>
Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-23460827943026079622015-02-08T01:52:00.001+05:002017-03-25T13:16:53.912+05:00...Of The Alpha and The Omega - Ameer Khusrau (RA)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Previous entries in this series:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/11/of-voice-of-rohi.html"><br /></a></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/11/of-voice-of-rohi.html">1. Khwaja Ghulam Fareed (RA)</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/11/of-halqa-e-sukhun.html">2. Allama Muhammad Iqbal (RA)</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2013/08/from-nothingness-to-being-hz-bedam-shah.html">3. Hz Bedam Shah Warsi (RA)</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2014/08/of-benevolent-breeze-maulana-abdur.html">4. Maulana Abdur Rehman Jami (RA)</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2014/11/of-reluctant-sufi-asadullah-khan-ghalib.html">5. Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib </a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2015/01/of-agony-and-ecstacy-baba-bulleh-shah-ra.html">6. Baba Bulleh Shah (RA)</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two months ago, I took a monumental trip. With a <a href="http://qawwal.blogspot.com/">group</a> of <a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/">wonderful</a> <a href="http://www.dawn.com/authors/512/vaqar-ahmed">friends</a> (some of whom I was meeting for the first time), I traveled to a number of cities towns and villages across the length of Pakistan, savoring the many musical delicacies our country possesses. In Karachi we met and listened to Qawwal parties who are torchbearers of distinguished lineage and rich tradition; in the town of Deepalpur we were invited to spend the day with one of the most stupendous Qawwals performing today, and in Lahore, we heard two generations of wonderful Khayal-singers, and chatted with a performer whose career encompasses both Qawwali and Khayal. To call this the proverbial "trip of a lifetime" would be a gross understatement, and I'm hoping I get to experience many more trips like this in my lifetime.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The level of planning and coordination required for the trip meant that there were many chances for things to go wrong. Flights could be missed, performers could be unavailable, the political situation in the country could take one of its customary nosedives, a million things could happen. But in the end, despite one or two minor hiccups, it all went perfectly. As a few of us remarked then, there seemed to have been a guiding spirit watching over us as we made our way from one musical feast to another, and I've been constantly thinking about who that guiding spirit could be. As I began preparing this post, I came to realize that our guiding spirit, and the thread connecting all our various musical experiences on this trip, was <b>Ab'ul Hasan Yamīn ud-Dīn "Ameer" Khusrau (RA). </b></span></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://dakshinapatha.files.wordpress.com/2014/04/caro-240-95b_11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://dakshinapatha.files.wordpress.com/2014/04/caro-240-95b_11.jpg" width="289" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amir Khusrau by Qasim ʿAli in a 15th century manuscript</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ameer Khusrau's presence pervades almost all of Indo-Pakistan culture, and he was a constant throughout all our trip. The Qawwals in Karachi either claimed their lineage from their disciples or performed specific 'bandishes' attributed to him; the khayal singers in Lahore sang bandishes invented by him in'raags' invented by him, accompanied by instruments invented by him, and even in Deepalpur - the heart of Punjab - the link to Khusrau was strong; Khusrau had been captured as a soldier by enemy forces during Balban's reign and kept as a prisoner in an ancient fortress in Deepalpur. Calling him a renaissance man or an epochal figure would be doing him a great disservice. His list of accomplishments, inventions and innovations defies count. He invented, among other musical instruments, the sitar; he wrote poetry and prose in Persian and the then nascent Hindvi languages; he served in the courts and armies of seven different Sultans of Delhi; he created a number of Raags and styles of music. One of his most important innovations was turning the ancient Sufi tradition of 'Samaa' into the progenitor of 'Qawwali'.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In one of the many interesting conversations I had over the course of my musical trek, someone offered a unique insight into Khusrau's personality, an insight that has led me to see his kalaam in an altogether different light. Khusrau was a courtier, a soldier and an acclaimed poet; in short a man of the world. This meant that despite his close relationship with Hz Nizamuddin Auliya (RA), he was never accepted by Hz Nizamuddin (RA) into the inner circle of his disciples and 'khalifaas'. Despite Khusrau's repeated attempts, Hz Nizamuddin (RA) kept him almost at arm's length, possibly because of Khusrau's worldliness. This led to a constant yearning for acceptance and union that literally screams out in his poetry. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have chosen 24 kalaams for this post, 12 each from Khusrau's Farsi and Hindvi writings. The sheer number of his kalaams in the Qawwali canon, as well as the literally hundreds of performers who have sung him was what initially led me to form the arbitrary set of rules that has governed this series of posts almost from the start. The rules were mainly borne out by a desire to include as wide a selection of kalaams as possible while insuring that none of the kalaams or artists were repeated. For example, I picked a Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali recording of an obscure Khusrau kalaam over their absolutely superlative recording of another kalam that had also been sung by a number of othre Qawwals; similarly with obscure artists taking precedence over mor epopularly known artists. Some of my inclusions might seem completely out of the left field, but I hope they will introduce the readers to a number of kalaams and artists they haven't heard before. With that, we begin ...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Ae Sarve Nazneene
Mun – Prof. Miran Buksh Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Let’s start this post with one of the oldest
recordings in my possession. Miran Buksh Qawwal , or as he is titled in his
recordings, “Professor” Miran Buksh Qawwal lived in the first half of the 20<sup>th</sup>
century and belonged to Peshawar. Beyond this basic bio-data, I cannot hazard a
conjecture. What is beyond doubt however, is the Professor’s superlative vocal
ability and style. He sings Farsi kalam with the proper ‘Darri’ lilt, he uses
powerful, vacillating taans, he utters “Qurban ! Afreen !!” at particularly
moving verses, and packs a wealth of meaning and power into a 3 minute
recording. As I wrote in a previous post, Qawwali recordings from the first
half of the twentieth century are markedly different from what we recognize as
Qawwali today. In the days of 78 RPM records, the Qawwali genre was dominated
by solo performers who often sang without the dholak/taali accompaniment
synonymous with Qawwali. The three minute recording was often a template that
was later embellished and expanded on during live performances. Prof. Miran
Buksh is a very obscure artist, but judging from the wealth of medals he is
seen sporting on his chest in the few photographs that exist, he got due
recognititon for his talents within his lifetime.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Ae Ba Darmaandgi
Panaahe Hamaa – Gappu Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the only recording I have of Gappu
Qawwal, and it was ripped from a video of his performance. The title says,
‘Gappu Qawwal – Rajasthan’, and the setting is a wonderful interior of a
shrine, with the Qawwal party sitting amid a backdrop of cut-glass mosaics and
intricate tile-work, with a small group of Sufis sitting across from them.
Gappu is an elderly gentleman, with a shock of white hair, and he is
accompanied by what seems like a ragtag bunch of ‘hamnavaas’. I have a special
liking for recordings by elder Qawwals. The ravages of time lend a certain
mellowness and an endearing fragility to their voices; what they lack in power,
they more than make up for in feeling. Throughout the performance, he has a beatific
smile on his face. The smile is perfectly in tune with the subject of the
kalaam, praise of the Prophet (SAW) and his benevolet grace, and an assurance
that this grace will be the source of salvation on Judgement Day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Ae Chehrae Zebaae
Tau – Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal ?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The cassette that this recording came in was
labelled “Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal”, and later this recording was posted online
attributed to Muhammad Ali Fareedi Qawwal. But I’m not sure that although
similar in style, this is by neither of the above artists. My guess is, it is
Salamat Ali Khan from the Bakhshi Salamat party slumming it for a Radio
Pakistan recording. With the attribution out of the way, let’s turn to the
performance itself. The sitar overture at the start is short yet brilliant,the
clarinet adds a wonderful warmth and the tabla/taali/ is wonderfully Punjabi in
style. Some verses are presented with an Urdu tazmeen, others are sung
unembellished. There are a couple of verses flubbed and presented in the
incorrect order, but these hitches do not derail the performance. There is a
wonderful raspy edge to the voices of the vocalists, and they employ a few
short but wonderful mini-taans to great effect. To top it off there’s also a
‘zordaar’ takraar or two thrown in for good measure in this energetic 11 minute
performance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Bakhubi Humchoo Mah
– Ghulam Hussain Niazi – Sultan Niazi Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ghulam Hussain Niazi and his sons Sultan and
Usman Hussain Niazi hail from the ‘Hapur’ gharana, a gharana traditionally associated
with Dhrupad. Being ‘Pagri-bandd Qawwals’, they regularly perform at the shrine
of Hz Khwaja Nizamuddin Aulia (RA) in Delhi as well at the other important sufi
shrines of India. Their style consists of a no-frills approach, with emphasis
on ‘talaffuz’ and ‘takraaar’. Their style bears imprints of the great Aziz
Ahmad Khan Warsi and Jafar Hussain Khan Badayuni Qawwal, but they have a style
uniquely their own. In an age where many Qawwals rely on bombast, or do not lay
adequate emphasis on ‘talaffuz’, Ghulam Hussain Niazi and sons are ably
carrying forward the tradition of ‘Khanqahi’ qawwali.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>But-e-Nau
Raseeda-e-Mann – Ustad Muhammad Ahmad Warsi Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This recording proved to be a case of love at
first listen for me. Muhammad Ahmad Warsi sahab of Rampur started performing at
a very young age, accompanying his father Abdul Shakoor Khan Qawwal. He holds
the ‘pagri’ of ‘darbaari qawwal’ at the shrine of Hz Nizamuddin Auliya (RA)’s
father Khwaja Syed Ahmed (RA)’s shrine at Badayun. In his early seventies now,
Warsi Sb still conveys a youthful vigor and vitality in his performances. I
especially love his unique staccato harmonium and his wonderful lay-kaari. This
performance of a romantic ghazal of Khusrau’s, meanders along like a stream at
a languid and leisurely place; occasionally eddying at a specific phrase here,
swirling around a specific takraar there. At the seven minute mark, the flow
halts for a superlative, wonderful girah before gathering pace again. Further
girahs follow, each girah effortlessly fusing into the main kalaam, which
ultimately comes to a halt with a flourish of tabla-notes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Chashme Maste Ajabe
– Ustad Iftekhar Ahmad Amrohi Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Iftekhar Ahmad Amrohi Qawwal is an anomaly in
the world of Khanqahi Qawwali. While most other Qawwals belong to specific
‘gharaanas’ and proudly list their lineages to anybody who will care to listen
(and many who couldn’t care less), Iftekhar Ahmad Amrohi proudly owns up to be
a first generation Khanqahi Qawwal who actually had to struggle to gain acceptance
at the various shrines of the subcontinent. As with the two performers above,
an absolute lack of pretense is the hallmark of his performance. In this
recording the takraars are especially interesting, short and crisp, a maximum
of three to four repetitions of the phrase before the party moves on to the
next verse. There are no girahs or long digressions into taankari, just a
simple exposition of the main kalaam from start to finish. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Dilam Dar Ashiqi
Awara Shud – Fateh Ali – Mubarak Ali Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They are undisputedly the greatest Qawwals of
the 20<sup>th</sup> century, their mastery over Farsi, Punjabi and Urdu kalaam
is unparalleled, their deep grounding in Khayal/Dhrupad means each performance
is finely attuned to the Classical idiom, their takraars are dizzyingly
electrifying and their taans are vertigo inducingly brilliant. Here Fateh
Ali-Mubarak Ali perform a kalaam of Khusrau’s that the poet has imbued with a
wonderfully melodious qafia and radeef. The voices flutter, bob and weave;
Mubarak Ali dives into a taan and the shehnai follows him in a spiralling
descent; Fateh Ali takes a verse and whips it into a takraar and the clarinet
swirls around his voice. The phrasing and bol-baant here is wonderful, each
word is broken down into half a dozen syllables as part of a bol-taan, all the
while maintaining perfect lay-kaari. This is a twelve minute exercise in superb
craftsmanship and absolute mastery.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Dishab Ke Mi Rafti
Butaan – Subhan Ahmed Nizami Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Subhan Ahmed Nizami was one of the Qawwals I
got to interact with in the course of my Karachi trip. He is the son of the
late Afaq Ahmad Nizami and the grandson of Ustad Iftekhar Ahmed Nizami. His
grandfather and father passed away at relatively young ages, which meant that
Subhan is mostly self-taught, and what a teacher he has proven to be. Dubbed
“the thinking man’s qawwal” by my companions in the recent Karachi trip,
Subhan’s personality and his performance style are wonderfully cerebral and
restrained for someone as young as him. The ghazal sung in this khanqahi
performance is said to depict the Prophet (SAW)’s arrival at Makkah, and Subhan
wonderfully delivers each vignette, accompanied by a thumping dholak and a
lively taali.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">9.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><b>Dilash Gar Meherbaan
– Ghaus Muhammad Nasir Niazi Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On the recent trip to Karachi that I mentioned
above, I got a chance to interact with some wonderful Qawwals of the
Rampur-Atrauli gharana. They will be revisited further down the post, but first
a recording by their late elder brother, Ghaus Muhammad Nasir. The son of the
wonderful Moin Niazi Qawwal – whose name graces the Qawwali Street in Karachi
which houses 31 families of Qawwals – Ghaus Muhammad Niazi started his career
by accompanying his father, and after Moin Sb’s death, led his own party. He
had a wonderfully mellow and sweet voice, and had a style that perfectly suited
his voice. Here he sings a lovely Farsi ghazal of Khusrau’s in his trademark
style. His voice is front and center, and the taans and takraars are pleasing
without being overpowering. This is a ‘halki-phulki’ ghazal, and the
performance perfectly encapsulates the lightness of the verses. It is a tragedy
that Ghaus Muhammad Niazi passed away a couple of years ago at a fairly young
age, but his and his gharana’s legacy is ably being safeguarded by his younger brothers.
Which brings us to …</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> 10 .<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><b>Har Shab Manam Futaada – Taj Muhammad, Shad
Muhammad Niazi Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Taj Muhammad Niazi, Shad Muhammad Niazi and
Shaukat Niazi are the younger brothers of the late Ghaus Muhammad Nasir. When
he led the party, the brothers performed as accompanists but now they lead the
party. Young in age but well-grounded in the Classical style, the brothers are
forging their own identity, all the while nurturing the legacy of their elder
brother and father. In this home recording, they sing a wistful ghazal of
Khusrau’s as sounds from Moin Niazi Qawwal Street waft in through the windows.
The talaffuz is correct, the style is mellow and respectful and the voices are
confident in tackling the taans; the legacy of the Rampur-Atrauli gharana is in
safe hands.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">11.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><b>Khabaram Raseeda Imshab – Ghulam Muhammad
Saaznawaz & Party</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This seems a tiny bit like a cop-out, as Ustad
Ghulam Muhammad Saaznawaz wasn’t a ‘Qawwal’ per se. He performed classical Sufi
kalams with his party of vocalists and instrumentalists for over six decades
and was the only internationally recognized proponent of ‘Kashmiri Sufiyana’.
He passed away almost exactly one year ago, but hopefully some of his shagirds
will carry his legacy forward. Ustad Saaznawaz’s party consisted of himself on
Santoor, and accompanists on Tabla, Sitar, Madhyam and the ‘Saaz-e-Kashmir’ – a
five member arrangement wonderfully titled “panj-hathyaar”. The accompanists
also served as the vocal chorus. The sound of his party is difficult to
describe, it seems to emanate from the sibilant breezes, chirping birds and
gushing brooks of the land of his birth. The santoor remains at the foreground
as the party navigates the traditional ‘maqqaams’ or raags of Kashmiri Sufiyana
music. In this hypnotic recording of the canonical ghazal, the Ustad gives a
meandering, mellifluous performance, lingering on the verses as the Santoor
tinkles around the words. I could have chosen literally any Qawwal’s version of
this ghazal, but I hope the unique quality of this performance justifies its
inclusion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> 12. <span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><b>Nami Danam Che Manzil Bood <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Abdullah Manzoor Niazi Qawwal</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have been enchanted by Abdullah Manzoor
Niazi’s voice ever since I heard him for the first time. He was accompanying
his father in a recording from the fabulous “Rung” album. Abdullah
Manzoor Niazi’s superbly ‘kharri’ and powerful voice contrasted wonderfully
with his father’s unbelievably ‘meethi’ one. Even during his father’s lifetime,
Abdullah Manzoor Niazi led the family party with aplomb. This kalam was
performed at one of the last mehfils recorded before Ustad Manzoor Niazi
stopped performing, but in this recording he sits back and lets his sons carry
the performance, occasionally uttering an appreciative ‘aha!’ or ‘wah!’ in the
background. Abdullah Niazi, like he did in the performance I witnessed in
Karachi, singlehandedly carries the performance. Around the 9 minute mark, he steers
the performance into a series of extended girahs which are charmingly delivered
around a powerful takraar.</span></span></div>
</div>
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</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Aaj Racho Hai Basant Nijam Ghar –
Afsar Hussain Khan Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Unlike
the Farsi kalaam of Hz Ameer Khusrau, most of which was published in his
lifetime in his various Dwaans, the Hindvi Bandishes and kalaams attributed to
him have a more checkered lineage. These kalaams have been sung and modified by
various performers over the centuries so I’ve tried to limit myself to pieces
which are attributed to Hz Ameer by the performers themselves. Starting off the
Hincvi selection is a kalaam that is regularly sung at the annual Basant
celebrations at Sufi shrines all over the subcontinent. This year’s Basant
recently concluded and I’m sure many Qawwals would have sung this kalaam over
the last two weeks. This performance comes from a wonderful concert LP by the
“famous qawwal of Lucknow”, Afsar Ali Khan and Party. I don’t know anything
about this Qawwal party and the only recordings of theirs that I possess are
from this one LP, but what an LP! Afsar Hussain Khan has a remarkable voice,
and him and his accompanists - chief among them Kafeel Hussain Khan – work
their magic in this bandish in Raag Bahaar. The ‘bulbultarang’ is wonderful as
after a slow start, the takraars and the sargams begin as the tempo picks up.
The girahs arrive one after another on the takrar, each of the lead singers
participating in the girah-bandi. Some of the Purbi girahs are rarely performed
by other Qawwals, and by the end of the piece, Afsar Hussain Khan and his party
have justified the title of “famous Qawwal of Lucknow”.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Allah Ta’ala – Nisbati Qaul –
Mohammad Hayat Nizami Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">The
late Ustad Muhammad Hayat Nizami was a regular presence at the shrine of Hz
Nizamuddin Auliya (RA) at Delhi. He belonged to the ‘Sikandra’ gharana and is
survived by his sons Zafar Hayat Nizami and Hamsar Hayat Nizami, both of whom
lead their own Qawwal parties. Here he performs a rarely sung Nisbati Qaul of
Hz Amir Khusrau (RA)’s, accompanied by a Sarangi and a Tambour. The percussion
and taali lay down a wonderful beat and the Sarangi weaves around the voice; a
voice which displays agility and poise despite the ravages of age. This
recording was made in the courtyard of Hz Ameer’s tomb, and the Qawwals seem to
feed off the spiritual energy. Nizami Sb leads the Sarangi with a series of
sargams, and when the Sarangi decides to go it alone, encourages it with shouts
of ‘Shaba re!’. It is a rarely heard kalaam, performed by one of the old
masters of the Delhi khanqahi qaawwals. Near the end, the beat changes and the
Qawwals launch into another Qaul, which is featured in a more complete form
further down the post.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Ao Gye Balam – Agha Rasheed Ahmad
Fareedi Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">From
Darbaari Qawwals of Delhi to Darbaari Qawwals of Pakpattan. Agha Rasheed Ahmad
Fareedi’s stature in my eyes increases with each passing day. I’ve written at
length about him and he is one of my very favorite Qawwals, so I won’t go into
too many biographical details. In this recording, Fareedi Sb and party perform
a kalaam that has been performed for centuries on the occasion of Hz Baba
Fariduddin Ganj Shakar (RA) at Pakpattan. The original ‘bandish’ goes ‘Vae gye
Balam’, but the Qawwals at Pakpattan put a Punjabi spin on it. This kalaam is
supposed to have been written by Hz Ameer (RA) when he returned from Sind to
discover that his Murshid, Hz Nizamuddin Auliya (RA) had passed away.The effect
is hypnotic as the takraar rumbles on, occasionally punctuated by a taan.
Sadly, the recording is incomplete, but it is a powerful five minute exposition
of Khusrau in a pure Punjabi andaaz.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Bohat Kathin Hai Dagar Panghat Ki –
Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">This
recording is ripped from a video. The video was my first exposure to the
absolute force of nature that was the late Munshi Raziuddin Qawwal. It took me
barely five seconds to realize that I was witnessing a performer of superlative
ability. Flanked by his two sons – young Farid Ayaz and Abu Muhammad – Razi
Mian immediately commanded the attention of the viewer/listener. With a glance
and a gesture, he guided his party through the kalam, suggesting a taan here, a
girah there; and without fail, Farid and Abu Muhammad picked up on their
musical cues and ably performed whatever was required, to the obvious
satisfaction of their father, obviously the result of years and years of very
rigorous training. Even though Farid Ayaz and Abu Muhammad had come into their
own by this time, it is the spirit of Razi Mian that illuminates this
performance. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Panchayati Qaul – Meraj Ahmed Nizami
Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Octogenarian
Meraj Ahmed Nizami is currently the senior-most Qawwal in the subcontinent, and
although in poor health these days, he is still the spiritual head of the
Qawwal Bacchon Ka Gharana. Throughout his career, he has shunned newfangled
concepts like fusion music etc and has steadfastly stuck to performing
traditional khanqahi kalaams in a khanqahi style. Here he performs two
traditional Qauls that are performed solely by the Qawwal Bacchon Ka Gharana, a
fact that he proudly declaims at the start of the performance. The style is simple,
with steady takraars and a series of wonderful girahs, and none of that
superfluous taankaari that other Qawwals use. The first Qaul is the one which
was sung briefly by Mohammad Hayat Nizami in the recording above, but Meraj Sb
sings it from start to finish and then segues into the second, more rarely
heard Qaul. In the latter third of the performance come the girahs, each more
apt than the last. I sincerely hope that Meraj Sb regains his health and graces
the Qawwali world with his presence for years to come.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Mohe Apne Hi Rangg Main – Farid
Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">During
Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed’s last few years, he sat with the Qawwal party but had
deputed the leadership to Farid Ayaz, with Abu Muhammad and brothers in
support. Farid Ayaz and Abu Muhammad have become Pakistan’s pre-eminent Qawwals
in the years following their father’s death. This has been achieved by
achieving a fine balance between the traditional Classical based andaaz of the
Qawwal Bacchon Ka Gharana and the folk influences of the Punjabi Qawwali style.
Here they perform a trademark bandish associated with their gharana,
accompanied by their sons. Most of the performance is in the upper registers
and barely escapes becoming jarring to the ears, but Farid Ayaz takes it down
an interesting track arounf the 9 minute mark. He leads the rather reluctant
party into a peculiar bandish with an unusual time-signature, and his obvious
consternation at the party’s inability to satisfactorily follow him is slightly
amusing, but the youngsters quickly recover. On my recent visit to Karachi, I
had the pleasure of spending a day with Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad and the
entirety of their party, and I can tell from first-hand observation that Farid
is training the youngsters with a rigidity and single minded resolve that would
have met the approval of his late father. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Mun Kunto Maula – Shankar Shambhu
Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">The
final Qaul in this selection is probably the original saying of the Prophet
(SAW) that gave Qawwali its name. It has been sung by every Sufi musician worth
(or in some cases not worth) their salt. It has been sung in Shyam Kalyan, in
Shudh Kalyan and even in Bhopali. Depending upon the tastes of the audience and
the qawwals themselves, it can either serve as a brief preamble to a
performance, or a full production number with lengthy digressions and
expositions. Years ago I wrote a post on some of my favorite versions of the
Qaul, so for this selection I have picked the recording that I return to whenever
I need to revisit the Qaul. Shankar Shambhu Qawwals – a duo of Hindu brothers –
performed from the fifties to the early nineties and were fairly popular in the
Qawwali circles of India, but weren’t that well known in Pakistan. This
recording was taken from an LP they released in the late 1970s. Shankar starts
off the Qaul in his wonderfully sweet voice as sitar notes cascade behind him.
The start is languid and serene, with Shambhu joining the vocals. Past the two
minute mark, the performance gathers steam, and in the up-tempo second half,
Shankar lets his wonderful voice weave a series of brief taans. The tarana
portion is short yet sweet, and the performance winds down just as quickly as
it had gained steam. It is a four minute exercise in musical minimalism, and I
love it.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Phool Rahi Sarson – The Sabri
Brothers Ensemble</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">“Accha
huzoor, sama’at farmaayen” begins Haji Ghulam Fareed Sabri, as the Sabri
Brothers launch into the classical celebration of the arrival of spring. And
what a celebration; a lot of purists tended to dismiss the Sabris as lacking in
the proper Classical spirit. This ten minute rendition should prove them wrong.
I needn’t write more about this performance beyond that it is my absolute
favorite version of this kalaam.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">9.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> <b>
</b></span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Najar-e-Karam Kun – Bahauddin
Qutbuddin Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">The
seventh centennial of Hz Ameer Khusrau (RA)’s birth was celebrated across the
subcontinent and the rest of the world in 1975. The governments of India and
Pakistan marked the occasion with series of cultural activities, radio,
television and the recording industry also took part in the festivities. In
Pakistan, EMI in collaboration with Pakistan Television released a number of
wonderful audiovisual recordings. In India, one of the most interesting
releases was a dramatized audio-biography of Khusrau concieved and narrated by
Prof. Zoe Ansari. The biography was interspersed with recordings of Khusrau’s
kalaam performed by artists from India, Pakistan and Iran. Representing
Pakistan were Ustad Bahauddin Qutbuddin Qawwals. Their recordings for this
project are absolutely wonderful, and one of them is included here. The
bandishes are in Raags Basant and Bahar, with a wonderful Sitar intoning in the
background. Prof. Ansari occasionally interrupts with a spoken interlude, but
mostly the Qawwals are left to their own devices. And left to his own devices,
Ustad Bahauddin Khan dazzles. His voice is rapier-sharp as he starts off at a
dizzying tempo and keeps ratcheting it up every minute. There are takraars and
taans aplenty as the main kalaam seamlessly segues into a tarana. Ustad
Bahauddin Khan’s voice was at its peak throughout the seventies, and here he
effortlessly navigates the treacherous taraana. Bahauddin Khan had recently
left the ‘Barri Party’ or the original Manzoor Niazi Party and was forging his
own individual path. While he was recording in India …</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">10.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Tori
Soorat Ke Balhari Nijam – Manzoor Ahmed Niazi Qawwal Aur Hamnavaa</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">…the
rest of the Barri Party (sans Iftekhar Ahmad Nizami who had passed away) had
been joined by the youthful voices of Naseeruddin Saami and a young Farid Ayaz
and were recording their own LP for Khusrau’s seventh centennial celebrations.
Munshi Raziuddin Ahmed led the party for this LP recording for EMI Pakistan.
Naseeruddin Saami and Farid Ayaz start off the doha, which is completed by
Ustad Manzoor Niazi. Accompanied by Sitar, which I have a suspicion was played
by young Farid Ayaz, the Qawwals then launch into the main kalaam. In keeping
with most of the recordings released during the seventh centennial
celebrations, there is no girah-bandi. Instead, Munshi Raziuddin Sb leads the
party through the main kalaam, while Manzoor Niazi Sb offers taans in his
‘koel-like voice’. It is a last glimpse of one of the greatest musical
ensembles of the subcontinent, as a couple of years after this recording, the
various Qawwals went their separate ways and formed their own Qawwal parties.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">11.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Chaap
Tilak Sab Cheeni – Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Every
Qawwal and their mother has performed this kalaam, as has every light-classical
or thumri singer, ditto for every other singer with an aspiration for being
called Sufi. Some Qawwals highlight the temporal meanings of this kalaam, while
others focus on the spiritual; but no one explores the mystical undertones of
the kalaam better than Haji Mahboob Sb. From a Classical point of view, the
performance isn’t up to scratch, the instrumentation is Spartan at best, but
Haji Sb’s superlative girah-bandi frees the kalaam from earthly bounds. I tend
to veer into superlatives whenever I discuss Haji Sb’s performances, but in
this case I can’t help it. The moment I listen to the girah at the 6:41 mark, I
am immediately transported into an altogether different state of mind. The
girahs are in Urdu, Farsi and Punjabi and they continue with each verse of the
kalaam. I find the penultimate verse especially endearing as Haji Sb
substitutes the Urdu word for the color green –harri – into the Punjabi –saavi-
thus immediately giving the whole kalaam a Punjabi tinge. It is a brilliant
performance, and I love it to bits.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">12.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-synthesis: weight style; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Rung
– Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan And Party</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Khanqahi
Qawwali mehfils usually end with a performance of the traditional piece known
as the ‘Rung’, so it is fitting that I end this post, as well as this years-spanning
series of posts on the ‘Rung’ too. This kalaam, a celebration of ‘Holi’ – the
traditional festival of colors, is usually sung as an up-tempo, bombastic
dhamaal. But in this selection from his phenomenal 1987 series of performances
at the Kufa Gallery in London, Nusrat decides to eschew bombast in favor of a
wonderful manqabat. His party doesn’t intrude with needless calisthenics as
Nusrat chants the names of the saints one by one, before taking the performance
into a new and altogether wonderful direction around the 6 minute mark. From
this point onwards, Nusrat, obviously enjoying himself, allows himself room to
play with the verses and the themes and the raag itself, as he constructs
takraars and sargams, diverting into other kalaams and returning to the main
kalaam at will. Some of the bandishes he uses, especially towards the end of
the kalaam, are rarely sung these days, and were rarely sung by Nusrat himself.
It is an exercise in restrained artistry that became rarer and rarer as the
years wore on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="400" msallowfullscreen="" src="https://app.box.com/embed_widget/s/gbxjdvzmqzkg9f957vms12hutskxn06j?view=list&sort=name&direction=ASC&theme=blue" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></span></span>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And that's that for a series of posts that has spanned four years and has survived laptop crashes, corrupted harddrives, acts of God and the greatest obstacle of all; my superhuman laziness. I have managed to share and write about more than a hundred Qawwali recordings, and in the process I have discovered many new artists and recordings that have enriched the countless hours I have spent listening to them. I hope I'll keep on discovering new things to enjoy and write about, and that this blog will help me interact with many others who share my passions.
</span></span></div>
</div>
Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-47728047979445593892015-01-01T18:02:00.000+05:002015-01-05T16:24:49.757+05:00...Of The Agony And The Ecstacy : Baba Bulleh Shah (RA)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Previous entries in this series :<br />
<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/11/of-voice-of-rohi.html"><br /></a>
<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/11/of-voice-of-rohi.html">1. Khwaja Ghulam Fareed (RA)</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/11/of-halqa-e-sukhun.html">2. Allama Muhammad Iqbal (RA)</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2013/08/from-nothingness-to-being-hz-bedam-shah.html">3. Hz Bedam Shah Warsi (RA)</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2014/08/of-benevolent-breeze-maulana-abdur.html">4. Maulana Abdur Rehman Jami (RA)</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2014/11/of-reluctant-sufi-asadullah-khan-ghalib.html">5. Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib </a><br />
<br />
I've written in the past, both in <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2007/03/in-which-disease-is-discussed.html">light</a> and <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/05/of-slow-suffocation.html">sombre</a> tones, about my lifelong love affair with asthma. It is a disease from whose clutches I have more or less managed to disentangle myself. This disentanglement has had less to do with my efforts and more with the fact that asthma tends to lose interest in its sufferers as they grow into adulthood. The first decade of my life was punctuated by an unhealthy amount of hospital admissions, the second decade with a gradual decrease in their frequency, and the last seven years have been more or less hospital-free. Like Ghalib's occasional digressions from temperance, my asthma returns in "cloudy days and moonlit nights", especially if said days and nights happen to coincide with heavy physical exertion. I now keep an inhaler with me whenever I exercise (or am forced to exercise, for I have an unholy enmity with anything involving physical exertion), and it more or less manages to tide me over for the duration of said exertion. My short and rather cryptic previous post was written as I was about to embark on an extended and rather difficult tour of duty, one where I would have had little chance of updating my blog. However, at the last minute, my old friend Asthma has come rushing to the forefront and instead of inconveniencing me, has proven to be something of a Godsend. Long story short, I have been deemed unable to proceed on the abovementioned e. and r. d. tour of duty because my asthma renders me physically incapable of handling the twice abovementioned e. and r. d. t. of d. As a result, the blog has been prematurely awakened from its cryo-sleep. Now, to business.<br />
<br />
My series of "poet-centered-posts-featuring-Qawwali-recordings-where-there's-one-recording-per-kalam-and-one-recording-per-artist" has entered the home stretch. I had decided to leave the most important contributors to the Qawwali canon till the end, and this post marks the penultimate step in the journey. Hz Syed Abdullah Shah Qadri (RA), commonly known and revered as <b>Hz Baba Bulleh Shah (RA)</b> (1680-1757) is arguably the most important poet in the Punjabi language. A contemporary of Waris Shah, Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai, Sachal Sarmast and Mir Taqi Mir; his poetry, like his illustrious contemporaries, has lost none of its power. The story of his life has become the stuff of legend, with so many apocryphal incidents attributed to him that it is difficult to separate fact from fiction.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://islamicartsmagazine.com/images/uploads/magazine/Fatima-Zahra-Hassan_Love-Charms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://islamicartsmagazine.com/images/uploads/magazine/Fatima-Zahra-Hassan_Love-Charms.jpg" height="640" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Illuminated print by Fatima Zahra Hassan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
What is more or less certain is that Bulleh Shah, a member of a respectable Punjabi Syed family,
had his life suddenly and violently convulsed by his meeting with Hz
Inayat Shah Qaadri (RA), a lower caste mystic of the Qadiriyya sufi
order. This led Bulleh Shah to renounce his entire way of life, from the city of Qasur to his 'Syed' heritage to his position of wealth and respectability, as he became a Sufi and a mystic himself. Following his
"Pir" to Lahore, Bulleh Shah embarked on a voyage of self discovery that
resulted in his being shunned by the conservative elements of his time,
so much so, that on his death, the Mullahs refused to grant him the
traditional Muslim funeral and burial rites. His poetry reflects his
rebellion from traditional conservative mores and displays his emphasis
on self-discovery as a means to achieving spiritual excellence.
Borrowing from the rich idiom of the Punjabi language, as well as its
inexhaustible store of simile, metaphor and folklore, Bulleh Shah's
managed to leave behind a body of work that is startlingly modern
and enlightened, yet at the same time displays a natural, organic
evolution from the work of his predecessors like Baba Fareed (RA) and
Shah Hussain (RA). Because of its rebellious modernity and an iconoclastic renounciation of orthodoxy and established power, Bulleh Shah's poetry has grown in popularity in the centuries following his death. Each new generation has appropriated his work to express their hopes, dreams and desires. So much so that Bulleh Shah remains the most popularly sung poet of the subcontinent, his words resonating with both Punjabi and non-Punjabi artists and listeners.<br />
<br />
The Qawwals of the subcontinent have long performed Bulleh Shah's kalam as part of their repertoires. What follows is a selection of some of my favorite pieces, selected keeping in view the arbitary rules laid down above ; one recording per artist and one recording per kalam.<br />
<br />
<b>1. Avo Saiyyo Ral Deyo Ni Vadhaai - Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal</b><br />
<br />
Even though Waris Shah was a contemporary of Bulleh Shah (RA)'s and completed his version of Heer Ranjha several years after Bulleh Shah's death, the immortal romantic tragedy had been a part of Punjab's folklore for several centuries preceding Waris Shah's version. This 'Kaafi' of Bulleh Shah's describes Heer's joy on meeting Ranjha and her acceptance of Ranjha as her soulmate. It is a moment of celebration, and the joyous mood is perfectly captured by Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal's exuberant performance. From the 'gharra' and 'ghunghroo' that provide the percussion to the flute and clarinet that start off the piece, Heer's exultant declaration to her confidantes of her newfound love positively glows with delight. The taans by Bakhshi Khan and Mubarak Ali Khan, and Saddo Khan's sargams express Heer's unbridled joy, while Salamat Ali Khan's Punjabi girah-bandi hints, very obliquely, at the tragedy that awaits Heer and Ranjha at the end of their journey. But the tragedy can still linger in the shadows, this is a moment for celebration, and Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal perfectly capture the moment in this performance.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Bhavain Tu Jaan Na Jaan Ve - Abdur Rehman Fareedi Qawwal & Party</b><br />
<br />
Abdur Rehman Fareedi, afflicted since childhood with the deforming condition known as micrognathia, was a Qawwal who never really managed to escape the shadow of his illustrious father Muhammad Ali Fareedi. Till the late seventies he performed in his father's party, and after his father's death his first few years as the leader of his own party were inauspicious. This all changed in 1986 when the death of his cousin Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi caused the disintegration of the latter Qawwal's party. This led to Abdur Rehman recruiting two of his late cousin's most talented party-members, Agha Majeed Fareedi and Mubarak Ali "Makha" Lahori Qawwal. For the next 8-10 years, Abdur Rehman Fareedi's party performed across the globe, earning plaudits from listeners in both Pakistan and abroad.<br />
<br />
This wonderful performance begins with a lengthy Punjabi 'doha' or preamble, with the Qawwals singing verses from Ali Haider Shah's superb 'Abyaat' before they launch into the main kalam. It isn't long before the beautifully distinct voices of Makha Lahori and Majeed Fareedi start weaving their magic. This recording lacks most of the peculiar affectations that would later plague Punjabi Qawwals, especially those who refused to escape Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's shadow. There is no shouting, vocal acrobatics, overloud percussion or clapping. Abdur Rehman Fareedi's world-weary voice is perfectly suited to the plaintive nature of the kalaam, and when the plaint morphs into an exhortation, Makha Lahori and Co. admirably come to the fore. In short, this is a perfect half-hour sample of traditional Punjabi Qawwali.<br />
<br />
<b>3. Ghunghat Chhak Ve Sajna - Mubarak Ali - Nusrat Fateh Ali Qawwal</b><br />
<br />
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's first public performance was in Spring 1965, a year after his father's death. For the next 6 years, he shared the leadership of his father's Party with his phenomenally talented uncle and Ustad, Mubarak Ali Khan. After Mubarak Ali Khan's death in 1971, Nusrat assumed sole leadership of the party and the rest is history. The few recordings that Nusrat made with his uncle are unique and extremely interesting. The traditional, Khayal based, languid andaaz of Mubarak Ali Khan and his younger brother Nazakat Ali Khan provides an obvious contrast to the youthful, powerful voice of Nusrat. It is a lovely amalgam of old and new, with the elder Ustads' takraars and sargams providing a steady backdrop to Nusrat's girahbandi. Nusrat is, even at this young age, a consummate performer and a natural leader of the Party. His style, which he would continue to perfect over the next two decades, is already established, and the calming influence of his uncles keeps him from resorting to the high octave histrionics that would sometimes mar his later performances. <br />
<br />
<b>4. Ilmon Bus Kareen O Yar - Fateh Ali - Mubarak Ali Qawwal</b><br />
<br />
This recording precedes the previous one by almost a decade, and the difference in style between the succeeding generations is immediately apparent. Ustad Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali's performance displays a beautiful languor, an unhurried pace that lends the peace a stately dignity. Brief bursts of urgency propel the takraars forward, as the sarangi and shehnai follow the vocalists' soaring taans. Fateh Ali Khan's voice remains unmatched in its earthy gravity, and his choice of girahs is absolutely word-perfect while Mubarak Ali Khan's short, sharp vocal flourishes reveal a voice still unravaged by age. As the performance progresses, the tempo picks up and the taans become more and more forceful, before terminating in a short decrescendo. It is a slow burn powerhouse of a performance, encapsulating a wealth of musical craftsmanship in just under ten minutes.<br />
<br />
<b>5. Main Ho Gaya Kujh Hor - Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal</b><br />
<br />
This recording is the latter half of a one hour tour-de-force. The first thirty minutes of this performance (which I've chosen to omit) consist of a series of "Haal" inducing verses, serving as a preamble to the main kalaam. As is evident from the audio, several members of the audience are in a state of "Haal", and Haji Mahboob Sb maintains this state by building a staggering takraar that sustains the listeners until their trance-like state gradually subsides. In a pure 'Khanqahi' setting, where the "Shaikh" presides and the Qawwals serve as spiritual instructors, the maintanance and gradual resolution of the trance-like state of 'Haal' is a tricky proposition at best, but Haji Sb carries his performance with consummate skill. The deep spiritual meanings of Bulleh Shah's kaafi - the annihilation of self and the doctrine of 'Fanaa-fil-Sheikh' - are explored with the help of a series of apt girahs, with sources ranging from traditional Farsi poetry to the dohas of Kabir Das, all the while maintaining the five word takraar. The instrumentation is rudimentary at best, but Haji Sb, ably accompanied by his younger brother Haji Mushtaq Ali, conveys the full power of Bulleh Shah's kaafi to the audience. This is an especially moving kaafi, one not sung regularly, and Haji Sb does full justice to what would've been a lukewarm performance in anyone else's hands. The performance ends on a series of electrified takraars on the verses of Kabir Das before sugueing back into the main kalam, as the thundering locomotive of a performance comes to a halt.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>6. Mera Aih Charkha Naulakha - Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan Qawwal & Party</b><br />
<br />
The "In Concert At Paris" recordings that Nusrat made in 1988-89 represent him at the absolute peak of his powers, with the iconic line-up of his backing Party behind him. I could have chosen more than a dozen Nusrat performances for this post, as among his peers Nusrat was arguably the finest Qawwali interpreter of Bulleh Shah. I don't think I need to go into long descriptions for this performance. Nusrat sings Bulleh Shah, period.<br />
<br />
<b>7. Mainoo Nit Udeekan Teriyaan - Maulvi Ahmed Hassan Akhtar Bheranwale Qawwal</b><br />
<br />
I must express my one doubt about this recording right at the start, I don't think this is Bulleh Shah's kalaam ; I haven't been able to find it in his collected works and the style is very unlike Bulleh Shah's other kaafis. That being said, Bulleh Shah's name in the last verse merits its inclusion in this post. Doubts aside, this is a stupendous performance. A short clarinet intro and a heartbreaking Punjabi 'doha' preface this recording. As Maulvi Ahmed Hassan's beautifully gravelly voice intones notes of longing and separation, his father and other members of the party contribute their own girahs. The performance is drenched in the beautiful East-Punjab / Doab style, with girah following melancholy girah. A full 10 minutes are spent on the first verse, as they use girahs to extract each and every drop of feeling from the opening phrase. The last 3 minutes go by in a whirl as the kalaam and the performance winds down, but the urgency doesn't prevent the Qawwals from inserting one final series of beautiful girahs.<br />
<br />
<b>8. Mera Piya Ghar Aya - The Sabri Brothers Qawwal Ensemble</b><br />
<br />
Every Qawwal on God's earth has probably sung their version of this Qawwali but The Sabri Brothers take the mood of celebration and joyous union pervading this kalaam, and take it to the next level. Their North-Indian origins and Haji Ghulam Fareed Sabri's years of performing at the Kaliar Sharif shrine meant that the Sabris had a substantial command over Punjabi, and didn't sound (endearingly) awkward when performing Punjabi kalaams, unlike most of the other non-Punjabi Qawwals who migrated to Pakistan after partition. In this live concert recording, the brothers and their party are in a mood of exuberant celebration. There's a simple, thumping, pulsating dholak beat propelling them forward as the brothers launch into one takraar after another. Haji Maqbool Sabri's malleable and supremely melodious voice offers glimpses of the Rajasthani 'Maand', as Haji Ghulam Fareed dives into his trademark lower register whisper-chant intonation. The percussion takes center stage in the latter half of the performance, as the vociferous takraars are interrupted temporarily by the Sabris singing the successive verses of the kaafi. The wonderful sazeena at the 9 minute mark is an added treat, staccato harmoniums dueling before Haji Maqbool Sabri takes over with his wonderful murkis and taans. The joyous performance concludes with the brothers engaging in a taan/sargam duel, that makes Haji Ghulam Fareed and the listeners offer "Wah-wahs", before a beautifully constructed crescendo.<br />
<br />
<b>9. Ranjha Ranjha Kardi - Muhammad Ali Fareedi Qawwal</b><br />
<br />
After recordings from Ustad Fateh Ali and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, there is room for one another cross-generational selection. The father of Abdur Rehman Fareedi, and one of the seminal Ustads in Qawwali history, Ustad Muhammad Ali Fareedi was fairly advanced in years when this recording was made, but his voice remains strong and potent. In this recording he is accompanied by (among others), his son Abdur Rehman Fareedi, a young Mubarak Ali "Makha" Lahori, and the future powerhouse taan-kaar of Rasheed Ahmed Fareedi's party, Inayat Ali Khan. Like most of the recordings in this post, this is a simple, unadorned Punjabi Qawwali performance, containing no histrionics, no calisthenics and no 'shor-sharaaba'. The Qawwals instead perform the entirety of the kalaam, using only brief murkis and taans along the way, maintaining a steady, lively tempo throughout.<br />
<br />
<b>10. Tere Ishq Nachaya - Inayat Hussain Bhatti, Saieen Akhter, Munir Hussain and Party</b><br />
<br />
Choosing the artists for this final selection left me stumped. Its ubiquity in Qawwali repertoires is borne out by the fact that I devoted an <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2012/07/of-raqs-e-bismil-punjabi-style.html">entire post</a> to it, with each performance worthy of inclusion here. In the end I decided to pick *horror of horrors* a Filmi Qawwali to end this post. The reasons are very simple. This four-and-a-half minute performance contains everything a Qawwali performance demands; an emotionally charged 'doha', a series of brilliant, forceful taans and murkis, takraars and girah-dar-takraars, and a perfect 'ihteraam' for the kalaam. It doesn't hurt that three of the most distinctively beautiful voices in Pakistani musical history are leading the performance. Inayat Hussein Bhatti offers vocal dexterity, Saieen Akhter lends gravity and heft, while Munir Hussain's achingly beautiful voice delivers girahs of startling beauty. The flavor of Punjab; the unique mix of temporal and divine love and of monastic tradition and popular culture, pervades all the recordings in this selection, and can be tasted most tantalizingly in this final recording.<br />
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-514303019462994652014-12-13T18:41:00.003+05:002014-12-13T18:44:02.853+05:00...Of Plans Deferred And Schemes Postponed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rabbie Burns said, and I quote : </span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men <br /> Gang aft agley</i></span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He should've added 'blogs' to the first verse, for a twist of fate has ganged it's future as 'agley' as aft-ing possible. Without going into too many details, there shall be little or no activity on the blog for the next 3-6 months. A number of posts that were in preparation (yes, despite their slipshod nature, the posts are indeed "prepared") will have to be put on hold as I attend the call of duty. Till then, paraphrasing the Dude, "The blog abides !"</span></div>
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Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985642309134625421.post-9526288810253340472014-11-19T00:25:00.001+05:002014-11-19T00:25:02.915+05:00....Of A Broke Down Engine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>This is an updated version of a post originally published in January 2009. I haven't altered the text, only added some recently found recordings.</b></div>
<br />
Blind Willie McTell sang,<br />
"Feel like a broke-down engine, ain't got no drivin' wheel,<br />
Feel like a broke-down engine, ain't got no drivin' wheel.<br />
You all been down and lonesome, you know just how a poor man feels."<br />
<br />
I don't know how many have been down and lonesome, but I'm pretty sure everyone's had the winter blues. There's sleet, fog, rain and ovaltine....perfect ingredients for perfect winter days, but somehow or the other the ennui and the gosh-awful lethargy take complete control and the <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2008/11/of-coccoons-and-calloway.html">cocooning</a> starts again. A week and a half of indifferent academic mash-ups has brought forth the second long-weekend in a span of four days. Usually, a flurry of study, movie watching, downloading or a hastily hiccupped blog-post mark each one of these increasingly rarer moments of freedom.<br />
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As this time it was the Ashura holiday, naturally no extravagances can be planned, which greatly limits my options. So I've been forced to restrict myself to downloading things for later and trying (unsuccessfully) to study. On any normal day, being home alone would mean a binge of colossal proportions, but this time, despite my folks (and the domestic help) being away, there being no loadshedding ( ???) for the past 36 hours and perfect weather, I'm wrapped up in my cocoon and sipping away at ovaltine....<br />
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To get to the point of this post, here's a bunch of absolute gems I found at Youtube. The proverb "It never rains, it pours" could also apply here. After listening to it once or twice on radio (Cloud 89 on CityFM89 to be exact) I was madly in search of this.....<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="370px" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="NO" src="http://playit.pk/embed/mn9R1MdPoAU" style="border: 0px; overflow: hidden;" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="600px"></iframe>
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And when I finally found it, there was a whole treasure trove to go along with it.
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There's this...
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="370px" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="NO" src="http://playit.pk/embed/gxah7yluq4g" style="border: 0px; overflow: hidden;" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="600px"></iframe>
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And this ....
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="370px" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="NO" src="http://playit.pk/embed/dStzWH4Y9Jg" style="border: 0px; overflow: hidden;" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="600px"></iframe>
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And finally, this piece of utter brilliance ...
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="370px" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="NO" src="http://playit.pk/embed/OkhdpFhgU1M" style="border: 0px; overflow: hidden;" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="600px"></iframe>
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I'd rather not label these - if anyone's curious enough, they can be sure of a treat...<br />
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<b>This is where the original post ended. Here are the two missing pieces of the puzzle</b><b>. Once again, no labels on any of the videos.</b><br />
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Missing piece number five ...
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="370px" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="NO" src="http://playit.pk/embed/6ZJHmf5YkTo" style="border: 0px; overflow: hidden;" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="600px"></iframe>
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The final and most wonderful missing piece ...<br />
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<iframe width="600px" height="370px" src="http://playit.pk/embed/f9JYGRt4CW8" scrolling="NO" frameborder="0" style="overflow:hidden; border: 0px;" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen ></iframe>Musabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15933723001961639519noreply@blogger.com4