...Of Field Commander Cohen

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.

There was the Boss; 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.

There was ol' Shakey; 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.

Then there was Mr. Waits; 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.

Next came Bob. 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.

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.

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.

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. 

...On Levon Helm's Passing

Levon Helm passed away last night, a day after his family had posted that he was in the last stages of his long and heroic battle with throat cancer. Even though this was a long time coming, the slow inevitability of it doesn't lessen the sadness one bit.

I'm not in the mood for writing another obituary, Steven Hayden over at the AV club and Charles P. Pierce at Esquire have written quite beautiful and heartfelt ones that perfectly encapsulate how I felt about one of my favorite musicians and one of the coolest cats ever to grace this planet; and I've already inundated my Facebook with dozens of links and videos and so forth in what has  become the 21st Century's go-to grieving ritual.

After Clarence Clemons' passing earlier this year and now Levon's, I think someone must send out a team of doctors to check up on Dylan, Cohen, Neil Young, Tom Waits, the Boss and the rest of my musical heroes and give them all clean bills of health. I'll readily volunteer my services for such an endeavor.

Anyway, Rest in Peace Levon, and thanks for all the years of great music.

...In Memory Of Jagjit Singh

Jagjit Singh passed away earlier today. I had known of his unfortunate stroke from the news and was hoping against hope for a recovery but it was not to be. This time, it did not take the news days to filter through to me in my remote location. It was my father who texted me, 'Sad news, Jagjit Singh has passed away'. Which I thought was rather apt, considering it was my father who had first introduced me to the man whose music would play such an important role in what were the formative years of my life.

A lot of who I am today, what I watch/read/listen to/like goes back to the long drives in the family car and especially the car stereo. Faiz and Iqbal Bano, Nasir Kazmi and Noorjehan, Faraz and Fareeda Khanum, Rafi and Lata, Nusrat and Pathanay khan, all were first introduced to me on one roadtrip or another, always with me straining my ears to catch the music and then piping up from the backseat, 'Abbu, please volume ooncha kar dain.'

For as long as I can remember, we have always, ALWAYS had a Jagjit Singh tape in the car. I think we still have one of his earliest tapes somewhere in the house, the one with the desert backdrop and a smiling photo. That was the first tape I know that remained on constant rotation in the tape deck, and for good reason. The ghazals were good, the arrangements were good and the voices of Jagjit and Chitra singh were perfectly complimentary. I still remember one of my favorite ghazals which went ...

Uss morr se shuru karain phir ab yeh zindagi
Har shae jahan haseen thi, hum tum the ajnabi

...and another of his very famous ghazals,

Tum itna jo muskura rahi ho
Kya ghum hai jis ko chupa rahi ho

I instantly fell in love with those ghazals. There was something in Jagjit's style that waas immensely appealing to me at an early age. Or perhaps it was his style, with the smooth, light baritone voice, the unhurried, unencumbered adayegi, the simple and melodious arrangements and the choice of ghazals - ghazals in small to medium 'beher' with a natural 'naghmagi' - that were so universally appealing that they even caught the ears of a small child like me. We listened to those tapes over and over and as was my habit, I memorized them all and began belting them out to whoever would listen, which reminds me of a rather embarrassing incident from my childhood.


Apart from the usual music tapes that were scattered about our house, there was one rather odd specimen. When I was very little, around 5 or 6, I had a tooth extracted and as a reward, my parents bought me a tape with dramatized readings of two children's stories. 'Cassette Kahani' it was called, with 'Bahadur Raju' on Side A and 'Jinnon ki Basti' on Side B. Me and my kid brother would listen to them non-stop, memorizing the dialogues, mimicking the sound effects and laughing our heads off at the silliness of it all, riffing on them in a childhood version of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. One day we decided to immortalize these adlibbed riffs on a tape of our own. We found one, didn't bother rewinding or forwarding it to see if it was blank or not, and started off. We'd start with a story, stop after 5 minutes when we were both tired from all the laughing, then I'd sing a Jagjit Singh ghazal and we'd start again. After we'd recorded 40 minutes of this, we flipped the cassette over and it was then that we discovered that it was a Jagjit-Chitra tape we'd been recording over, and one of mum and dad's favorites. Scared and embarrassed, we immediately hid it in the tape cabinet and bolted. Some weeks later while on one of our innumerable roadtrips, Jagit was playing on the stereo as usual and us kids were snoozing in the backseat when suddenly, the car was rocked by sounds of the loudest, shriekiest laughter ever heard. Me and my brother woke up, bolt upright as we realized that our magnum opus had somehow found it's way into the car stereo. Our parents were initially too stunned to realize that their favorite tape had been desecrated beyond repair, but they soon got over it, pulled the car over and proceeded to give me and my brother one of the Gawdalmightiest tonguelashings we've ever recieved, the gist of which was "You never mess with a Jagjit Singh tape, NEVER!!"


By the time I'd gotten a few years older, we got Jagjit and Chitra's famous 'Ghalib' album - the one they'd done to soundtrack Gulzar's landmark TV series about the famous poet. To say that that album was a watershed is an understatement. Jagjit and Chitra Singh made Ghalib - arguably the most important Urdu poet of all time - at once accessible, enjoyable and eminently understandable. The kalam was rendered with modern sensibilities, melodiously, with perfect talaffuz and complete 'ehteraam' in a manner that made it universally appealing. We used to listen to it constantly, discuss the meanings of various verses, comparing and contrasting with other poets and in the process being introduced to one of the wellsprings of Urdu literature. It was a service to the Urdu speaking world that will long be remembered and appreciated. Sometime later another favorite of mine, Jagjit Singh's collaboration with Gulzar, 'Marasim' came out. Again, the kalam was perfectly complimented with the arrangements and the singing. Ghazals like 'Shaam se aankh main nami si hai' (which Gulzar poignantly quoted as his Facebook status this morning) and 'Woh khat ke purzay uraa raha tha' were instant classics.

Apart from his impressive artistic credentials, Jagjit Singh was also important as an ambassador of the Urdu language an especially the ghazal. He spread the magic of the ghazal far and wide and kept the tradition of ghazal-gayeki alive in India, appealing to both the mainstream listening public and the more finicky conoisseurs. A worthy successor of the genration that included Mehdi Hassan, Talat Mehmood and Barkat Ali Khan, Jagjit with his contemporary Ghulam Ali was the leading light of Ghazal-gayeki in the late 20th and early 21st century. To me personally he was a gateway to the exploration and enjoyment of Urdu poetry, a melodious guide to the nuances of Ghalib, a fond childhood memory that formed the basis of who I am today and a constant reminder of the immense power of art to mould and enrich lives.


While writing this in his memory (it's sad how I've had to document the passings of two of my favorite personalities in a month) I thought it'd be a good idea to listen to some of Jagjit saheb's ghazals, so I cued up the playlist on iTunes and started listening as I wrote. But it didn't turn out to be such a good idea because one minute into his rendition of 'Baat Nikle Gi To Phir Duur Talak Jayegi' I had to stop writing and unsuccessfully fight back tears. It was then that the comprehension of this loss sank in and I realized the important place Jagjit Singh's music held in my life. The man who introduced me to ghazal,Ghalib and Gulzar is no more. In his memory I will carry on what I now realize is an important tradition, there will always be a Jagjit Singh tape near me, in my car, in my iPod or on my PC.

When I can actually feel strong enough to listen to it without tearing up is a whole different story.....

...On Shammi Kapoor's Passing

Shammi Kapoor passed away yesterday, and as is usual in this remote location that I currently call home, I only found out today. I was saddened, extremely saddened and more than a little shocked. I mean I know he was in his 70s and a longtime sufferer of renal failure, but he had seemed so hale and hearty until very recently that his death comes as a major shock, at least to me. I hadn't planned to write anything this month but I feel I must express my feelings and thoughts in one way or the other otherwise I might spiral into another one of my black dogs. And since my location precludes what would've been a more fitting tribute to the great actor, namely getting together with some friends and watching his movies and songs, remembering and re-enjoying the hours and hours of pleasure he brought to milllions of his fans, I can try to use my words to somehow pay my respects to one of my favorite actors, and one of my favorite people, the late Shammi Kapoor.

I can remember being a Shammi Kapoor fan for most of my life. I wasn't exposed to Bollywood films very much, especially in my childhoood, but I still remember watching a fair number of Shammi Kapoor films, and more than a fair bit of Shammi Kapoor songs. What had appealed to me even as a child, was the spontaneity, the freshness and the overpowering sense of joy in his performances. As I got older and properly started watching classic Bollywood films, my admiration for his work grew. There is a sizeable number of my friends and possibly a fair chunk of the movie watching public who didn't consider him a serious 'actor' in the Raj Kapoor, Dev Anand mould, thinking of him more as a lightweight (not literally) who was suited for just comedy and a bit of song and dance. I had had the same opinion before I started watching him in earnest, but my opinion didn't last long. There was a vivacity, a natural exuberance, and in films like Brahmachari and Vidhaata, a sense of the melodramatic that was at par with the other 'greats' of that time. That's why I consider him not only a fine performer, but one of the great all-round actors of the Golden Age of Bollywood.

And as for the songs, now they're a whole other story. The Shammi Kapoor-Muhammad Rafi partnership was a match made in heaven. The sheer number of evergreen and immortal songs picturised on Shammi Kapoor and sung by Rafi saheb is unequalled in Bollywood history. The two had more chemistry than any on-screen pair could ever achieve, an affinity so brilliant that you could forget that it was actually a playback singer belting out "Aasmaan Se Aaya Farishta" while Shammi dangled from a helicopter in An Evening In Paris, or that it was someone else and not Shammi singing "Main Gaoon, Tum So Jao" to the cute little critters in Brahmachari. Again, the amount of pure, unadulterated joy that Shammi Kapoor managed to express in the songs was a mark of his consummacy as a performer. He was also the first leading man to incorporate dance - his own trademark style of dance - into the three minute song that was the staple of the Bollywood film. With the jaunty, slightly spastic and ever-so-debonair flicks of the head and jerks of the hips, he was able to communicate an irrepressible joie de vivre to everyone who watched.

Bollywood's answer to Elvis, Shammi also shared the King's unfortunate weight issue, yet for at least ten years - the most fruitful period of his career - he didn't let his weight come in the way of having a grand old time onscreen. He sang, he danced with an exquisite lissomeness that defied logic and he churned out hit after immortal hit all through the sixties. It was only when the weight problem got out of hand that he gracefully changed gears from leading man to character actor and spent the rest of his career as a bearded, benevolent presence in film after film. Kidney failure plagued him for the last two decades of his life, a disease that was precipitated if not aggravated by the same weight issues. But Shammi didn't let an ailment control his life and spent his last years squeezing out as much enjoyment and happiness out of his days as possible, a fact that was borne out by the delightful series of webcasts he made in these last few months titled "Shammi Kapoor Unplugged", a series that I watched eagerly and with great enjoyment. I remember him remarking once that he had dialysis thrice a week, yet on the other four days, he managed to have so much fun that those three days were more than compensated. On his final webcasts, I could see the ravages of age and disease - the laboured breathing, the thinned frame and the raspy voice - but I hadn't thought that they were that serious, which is why his death came as a shock to me.

Life and death are part of the inevitable and vicious circle of life and no matter how much you reconcile yourself to it, the passing of someone special always leaves the geart pained and sorrowful. With Shammi Kapoor's passing a great chapter has closed in the history of Indian cinema. Now only two, albeit two of the greatest - Dilip Kumar and Dev Anand - remain of the Golden Age of Bollywood. Dilip saheb is an infrequent sufferer of health problems and Dev Anand is in his nineties now, so I'm afraid we won't be blessed with their presence for long, but again, their passing will leave the heart sorrowful. Only one thing remains to assuage the heart's pain, and that is the treasure trove of memories immortalized in celluloid that Shammi Kapoor has left behind; memories that might start fading a bit faster after his passing but will never be completely obliterated. The joy he brought - that's a word one has to use often when describing him; joy - to millions around the world, the way he lived his life on his own terms till the very end, and the innumerable memories he has left for his fans are his astonishing and magnificent legacy.

Farewell Shammi Kapoor, and thanks for the memories ......

...Of Five Forgotten Voices

One of the many things I try in order to get myself out of ruts like the one I have been in for the past month and a half is to make lists. Lists help me organize the clutter that is my mind and provide me with rudimentary scaffolding on which I can string up the one or two ideas that I may have. More often than not, my blogger's block stems from having an excess of, rather than a dearth of ideas, topics and themes to write about. The photo/video studded posts about my Great Roadtrip remain unwritten, my photographing trips across Lahore remain undocumented and the long-brewing piece on Dylan languishes in the drafts (though that is something I should push to the front of the 'pending' cue given Bob's 70th birthday in less than two weeks time.) So today, on one of those rare occasions called 'a day off', I've decided to force myself to sit down and finish two posts that are all but complete and have only my extraordinary sloth to blame for being kept from the reading public.


The hallmark of a great book is that not only does it enlighten/entertain/inform during the read itself, it opens up new avenues of thought and exploration that go on long after the book's been read. Possibly my most rewarding read of the year has been Raza Ali Abidi's "Naghma Gar", an exhaustive history of songwriting and popular songs in the subcontinent. I've already written about one of the many amazing new songs/musicians/singers that I've discovered after reading about them in the book. A tangential effect has been a re-exploration of some of my favorite musical touchstones from the golden age of Sub-continental film music (which I now think spans three decades rather than just two). One of the things I discovered was that a lot of great music and great talent lies forgotten, and it's not just because of the dusts of time that cover it. Names like Lata Mangeshkar, Mukesh, Kishore Kumar and Rafi sahab, even Geeta Dutt, Manna Dey, Shamshad Begum etc are known to most people with mnore than a passing interest in old film music. But there are certain artists that were headed for obscurity even before their careers were over.

The history of Playback singing in Bollywood has been of two or three towering figures, with other artists restricted to secondary billing. There were Rafi, Kishore, Mukesh and Talat and there were the Mangeshkar sisters, and for all practical purposes, that was it. People like Hemant Kumar, Manna Dey, Bhupinder and Mahendra Kapoor among the men and Geeta Dutt, Suman Kalyanpur, Suraiyya, Shamshad Begum etc among the women were more like bit players in the industry and their contributions, though great, can not compare to the handful of "superstars" that reigned over Bollywood film music. An interesting observation is that there was still a sizeable number of men singing in Bollywood, with each having his own distinctive voice suited for his own type of song. Among the women, the story was different.

The arrival on the scene of Lata Mangeshkar (and what an arrival !!) in 1949 sounded the death knell for the careers of a number of playback singers who had been jointly ruling the roost since the mid '30s. Their more 'mature' voices soon lost favour with cinemagoers who preferred the sweeter, younger voice of Lata. Over the years, as the Mangeshkar sisters strengthened their hold over Bollywood playback, the careers of many promising singers fell by the way-side as a result of a combination of professional intrigue and audience tastes. Some names are still remembered as smaller stars on the firmament, but there are a few who shone so briefly that their names have all been forgotten. That is a pity, because even though they shone for a painfully brief moment, they produced a most brilliant light. What follows is a selection of performances from five of the most gifted singers ever to have sung playback, who are now sadly, all but forgotten.

Mubarak Begum

I first wrote about Mubarak Begum three years ago. At the time, she was living in absolute obscurity. At one time, she was among one of the most promising singers of Bollywood with a number of hits under her belt. But her fall into obscurity was sudden. When I heard of her, she was in her seventies, living in a one room house in the Bombay slums with a daughter who suffered from early onset Parkinson's and a son who barely made ends meet as a Taxi-driver. Thankfully, as a result of efforts of a number of her fans, she has been somewhat rehabilitated. She regularly performs and has a steady (though still small) source of income. I still remember the first time I heard her voice, it was hair-raising, crystal clear, sharp as a dagger and very mellifluous. I've heard a few of her other songs, but the one that still moves me the most is the first one I heard, "Kabhi Yanhaiyon Main Yun Hamari Yaad Ayegi" from the film "Hamari Yaad Ayegi". It's a haunting melody, and Mubarak sings it with immense feeling, making an obscure song from an obscure film by an obscure music director one of the great musical performances of the golden age of Playback.

Jagjit Kaur
 

Another of the 'niche singers' who made a small but extremely important contribution to the Indian playback industry is Jagjit Kaur. The wife of the great music director Khayyam, Jagjit started singing in the mid-fifties, mostly for films scored by her husband. If I were to use just one song to introduce someone to her work, it would be from 1964's Shagun, which features some of the most beautiful music and lyrics of any film from that era. This isn't surprising considering it was scored by Khayyam and had lyrics by the great Sahir Ludhainvi. It also contains Jagjit Kaur's signature tune, one of the greatest songs in Bollywood's history. Picturised on Nivideta, with the luminous Waheeda Rehman and her husband Kanwaljeet providing the requisite emotional backdrop, "Tum Apna Ranj-o-Ghum,Apni Pareshani Mujhe De Do" is an amazing evocation of the love that's been lost but still lingers in the heart, a tenderness that persists despite betrayal and separation.

Jagjit Kaur kept on singing sporadically, again mainly compositions by her husband. Highlights from her later career include "Dekh Lo Aaj Hum Ko Ji Bhar Ke" from 1982's 'Bazar', which again featured brilliant Khayyam compositions, and her duet with Khayyam on his beautiful composition of Faiz Ahmed Faiz's "Kab Yaad Main Tera Saath Nahi".

Meena Kapoor

From the wife of one great music director to the wife of another. Meena Kapoor was a semi-successful playback singer who started her career in the late '40s. One of her earliest hits was from 1947's Shehnai, "Sunday Ke Sunday" the super-hit novelty/comedy number that Meena Kapoor sung with Shamshad Begum and the film's music director C. Ramchandra. Early in the fifties, she married the legendary composer Anil Biswas and all but left the film industry, instead dedvoting her time to her family. One of her greatest songs was "Kuch Aur Zaman Kehta Hai" for a film that was significant for a number of reasons. "Choti Choti Baatain" was the last film scored by Anil Biswas, it was a labour of love produced by one of Bollywood's greatest character actors, Motilal and starred him and his wife, the ravishing Nadira in lead roles. Sadly, the film was a failure and Motilal died before seeing it completed. Thus, it was the bookend to four Bollywood careers that had flourished with varying degrees of success.

Zohrabai Ambalewali

One of pre-partition cinema's greatest singers, Zohrabai had one of those full-throated, deep voices that exuded a sort of rustic maturity that was to disappear from Bollywood following the arrival of Lata Mangeshkar. Her greatest songs were for Naushad and  Master Ghulam Haider. The songs of 1944's Rattan are especially beautiful, scored by Naushad in his star-making turn and picturised on Karan Devan and a young Swarnalata (who later migrated to Pakistan to become the country's first female film producer). She didn't sing much after partition, restricting herself to ghazals in stage performances, but her expressive voice lives on in the few recordings that remain. Her greatest hit was from Rattan, a song that catapulted both the singer and the music director to instant fame.

Rajkumari


The final artist in this list is the great Rajkumari, one of the most beautiful voices of Indian film. She started her career as a singing actress in the late '30s but soon had to quit acting because in her own words she 'couldn't keep herself off food' and gained a lot of weight. But a loss for the screen was a gain for the listening public as she concentrated on her voice and soon became one of the pre-eminent singers of the pre-partition era. After partition, her career slowed down to a few songs per year. She however had two superhit films to her credit in the immediate post-partition years, 1950's "Bawre Nain" in which she provided playback for the vivacious Geeta Bali, and 1949's Kamal Amrohi masterpiece "Mahal", a film that heralded a great change in the Indian film industry. It thrust a young Madhubala into superstardom and it provided Lata Mangeshkar with her first, career altering hit. Scored by the immensely talented Khemchand Prakash (who unfortunately died rather young), Mahal was an immaculately produced supernatural thriller and early Noir that still holds up more than 60 years later as one of the greatest films produced in the sub-continent. Rajkumari sang one of the film's, and indeed Indian cinema's most haunting songs, "Ghabra Ke Jo Hum Sar Ko Takrayen To Accha Ho"

Unfortunately, after Rajkumari's career fizzled out, she was reduced to penury and made her living singing in the backing choruses on film songs. It was while she was singing on the chorus for another great Kamal Amrohi film, 1972's "Pakeezah" that she was spotted by Naushad, who thought her condition exceedingly pitiful, having worked with her in her heydey. He offered her the chance to sing one of the thumris he had composed for the film and so Rajkumari sang for the first time in nearly two decades.

Rajkumari lived out her last days in strained circumstances, occasionally going on stage to perform songs from her golden days. She died in 2000 at a broken down house in Bombay.



  As a footnote to this list of some of the greatest singers of the 20th Century is another song from Kamal Amrohi's Mahal. It is sung by two of the luminaries mentioned above, Zohrabai Ambalewali and Rajkumari. Everything that made the film a masterpiece is evident in the song - from the haunting melody to the brilliant cinematography to the expressive and emotive performances. Also, the song serves as a final glimpse at the passing parade of Old Bollywood at the brink of a major upheaval, when the faces, voices and names of the pre-partition era were suddenly thrust aside to make way for the new lot that was to rule sub-continental film for the next three decades.

Zohrabai Ambalewali And Rajkumari - "Yeh Raat Beet Jayegi, Jawani Phir Na Ayegi"

...Of My Favorite Qawwali So Far 2.0

Two and a half years ago I was introduced to, rather re-introduced to what has since become an obsession of mine; Qawwali. My overarching fascination with this art has led me to become an ardent (albeit amateur) student of Sufism and spirituality as well as provided me with hours upon hours of pure listening pleasure. One of the positive effects of this has been to allow me to write about the various artists , recordings and kalaams that have touched me deeply. On the flip-side, my desire to express in words as well share this passion of mine has turned this into something of a niche blog with the result that I've managed to reduce my already slim readership even further. However, that is of no concern as long as I am able to express and share even a fraction of the joy that Qawwali has brought me.

A year and a half ago, I undertook an exercise whereby I listened to all the versions I had of what was my favorite Kalaam at that time, Hazrat Bu Ali Qalandar (R.A)'s "Manam Mehve Khayaale Oo" and attempted to compare and contrast the performance styles of some of the greatest Qawwals of our time. Over time I've discovered many new artists and new recordings that have reiterated my belief that Qawwali is mainly a performer's art. The repertoire is vast and the opportunities for modification and innovation limitless, hence like Jazz, it's the performer's style that ultimately moulds a performance and contributes to it's aural and spiritual impact. I've also realized that the term "favorite Qawwali" is an oxymoron. However, there are some pieces that are definitely closer to the heart than others, and currently, the kalaam I've been constantly listening to over the past month or so is that immortal Na'at of Maulana Jami (R.A)'s, Nasima, Jaanibe Bat'ha Guzar Kun.

نسیما ! جانب بطحا گزر کن

زا حوالم محمد را خبر کن 

 بہ حال مبتلاے غم  نظر کن

علاج درد دل اے چارہ گر کن 

توئی سلطان عالم یا محمد
  زروئے لطف سوئے من نظر کن

بہ برایں جان مشتاقم بہ آنجا
   فدائے روضہ خیر البشر کن

 مشرف گرچہ شد جامی زلطفش
خدایا ! ایں کرم با ر دگر کن

    

O morning breeze! set out towards Bat'haa,

Inform Muhammad (S.A.W) of my plight

Cast your eye towards one who is afflicted with sorrow

O healer, find a cure for this aching heart

 Muhammad (S.A.W); you, who are the Emperor of both worlds

Cast your graceful, blessed glance towards me

It is the desire of this eager soul of mine

To sacrifice itself upon your final abode

Although you have showered your grace on Jami

In God's name, grant him this favor once again.

Maulana Nur ad-Din Abd ar-Rahman Jami (R.A) was one of the foremost Persian mystics and poets. His works include the "Bahaaristan", the biographical treatise "Nafaahat-al-Uns", his masterpiece "Haft Aurang" and his version of the classical Persian romantic epic "Leili wa Majnun". He was an ardent lover of the Prophet (S.A.W) and expressed his love in some of the most beautiful Na'ats in the Persian language, among them Tanam Farsooda Jaanpara, Gul Az Rukhat Aamookhta , Ya Muhammad Ba Mane Be Saro Samaan Madaday, and of course, Nasima, Jaanibe Bat'haa Guzar Kun. An apocryphal Sufi tradition offers a stirring example of Jami's love for the Prophet (S.A.W) as follows,

"It so happened that once this ‘ishq' was at its peak and poor Jami became restless. He composed a wonderful naat in the praise of Allah’s Habib and in the agony of love made a vow to recite that very poem in front of the Prophet’s Mausoleum in Madina. So, gathering some of his many disciples with him, he set off on the long and arduous journey to fulfil his vow.

After many a month of travel, the caravan led by the Imam of Love, Abdul Rahman Jami, reached the outskirts of the City of the Prophet and Madina was only a few miles journey away. As they camped for the day, they saw a rider on a horse coming towards them at a galloping pace. The strange rider stopped in their midst and asked the group, “Which of you is Jami?” The disciples pointed out Jami and said, “That is our leader, Shaykh Imam Abdul Rahman Jami!” So the rider guided his horse towards Jami and, alighting, greeted Jami with the words, “Assalamu alaykum!”

  “Wa alaykum as-salam! Who are you? Where are you from and why are you here?” asked the venerable Sufi.   

“Jami, I have come here from Madina!”

At the mention of these words the lover of the Prophet (sal Allahu alayhi wa sallam), Jami, took off his turban and placed it the feet of the stranger saying, “May I be sacrificed for these feet!  They have come from the city of my Prophet!”
 
Jami continued, “Good sir! Tell me, why have you come?”
 
The man went silent for a while and then answered, “Jami what I am going to tell you, you must promise to hear it with a stout heart.”

 “I will”, said a slightly bemused Jami, “but tell me!”   

“Jami”, continued the rider, “I have been sent to you by the Prophet (Sall’Allahu Ta’ala Alayhi Wa’alihi Wa’sallam) himself"

“Tell me! What does my Master say?” interjected Jami. 

“Jami, the Prophet (Sall’Allahu Ta’ala Alayhi Wa’alihi Wa’sallam) has sent me to tell you that he has forbidden you to enter Madina and visit him!”    

At these words Jami was thunderstruck, his head swam and his legs gave way beneath him and with an agonised shriek the Shaykh fell to the ground in a swoon. The disciples were terrified that their Shaykh had passed away but after many hours Jami came back to a state of consciousness and he wept copiously.    The messenger was still there and Jami asked him, “Tell me O’ bringer of such tidings! Why does my Master prevent me from entering Madina? What sin have I committed? Why is my Medinan Lord angry with me?” 

The messenger replied,”the Master is not upset with you. Indeed, he is very happy with you!”.

"Then why does my liege-lord prevent me from visiting him?” 

“Jami! The Prophet(Sall’Allahu Ta’ala Alayhi Wa’alihi Wa’sallam) said to me that tell Jami that if he comes to Madina with such love in his heart I will have no course but to come out of my tomb and greet him in person – such would be the recompense for his love! – so tell him not to enter Madina. I will visit him myself! Tell Jami not to come and visit me – I will visit him!”

                             ....................................................................................


Naseema was one of the first kalaams I heard on that wonderful evening two and a half years ago when I was re-introduced to Qawwali. I clearly remember sitting in my friend's dorm room. He had just played me one of Munshi Raziuddin's recordings and I hadn't recovered yet when he said, "Lain Musab bhai, yeh sunain" and played for me Manzoor Ahmed Niazi and Party's version of "Naseema". I listened intently to the initial doha, and the moment the "Kun" of the first verse hit what we call the tabla's 'summ', I was transported!

Manzoor Ahmed Niazi Qawwal

It was later that I found out that Naseema was one of the Manzoor Niazi Party's most famous Qawwalis, however it was the first time I was listening to Manzoor Niazi sahab and I was immediately struck by the unique mellowness and soft timbre of his voice. The ravages of age were apparent but it was still carrying the performance along beautifully. Abdullah Manzoor Niazi's powerful and very melodious voice perfectly complemented his father's. (In my opinion, Abdullah Manzoor Naizi's party, along with the Farid Ayaz ensemble are currently the two best Qawwali ensembles in Pakistan). I listened to the performance again and again over the coming days and weeks in my dorm room and constantly hummed the beautiful arrangement.

The Manzoor Niazi party's performance remains one of my most favorite Qawwalis because of it's stirring arrangement, the wonderful little takraars that the Qawwals interject at the end of each verse and the Qawwals' beautiful adayegi, Manzoor Niazi Sb's being especially appealing.

As I listened to more and more recordings and delved deeper into the Qawwali idiom, I found that Naseema was part of the repertoire of most Qawwal parties, with most following the same arrangement as the Manzoor Ahmed Niazi party. I also discovered that the kalaam had the greatest impact when it was performed at a gentle, stately tempo, almost like the gentle early morning breeze that was being addressed in it. Again, various Qawwals performed it in their own styles, using a variety of Girahs and Takraars to bring out the various emotional aspects of the kalaam, from gentle pleading to desperation to resignation to hope.

Haji Mehboob Ali Qawwal

A performance that takes the gentle and stately route is by Haji Mehboob Ali Qawwal and Haji Mushtaq Ali Qawwal at Golra Shareef. (A rare photograph of Haji sahab is attached, many thanks to the personage who allowed me to post it) A steady tempo, no girahs or takraars, just the two brothers accompanied by tabla and Haji saheb himself on Sitar. Mehboob Qawwal was known to perform two versions of Naseema, one unadorned and the other with "Tazmeen", where each verse is accompanied by a versified translation in Urdu and Seraiki in the same metre as the original. It served the purpose of Wa'az that Haji saheb was justly famous for. I have a recording of that version in my archives and might post it when I have the requisite permission. The unadorned version however, is beautiful in it's simplicity and the meandering, mellifluous arrangement with the Qawwals singing it with the utmost 'Ihteraam', bringing out the innate musicality of the kalaam.

Rasheed Ahmed Fareedi Qawwal

I have previously expressed my admiration of Rasheed Ahmed Fareedi, one of the greatest Qawwals of his age who remains undiscovered by a large audience largely because like Haji Mehboob Qawwal, he was primarily a Darbari Qawwal who didn't release any recordings commercially. A 'shagird' of Fateh Ali Khan, he was known for his emotive and powerful vocal style and his highly talented and disciplined party. He used girahs to great effect and his performances were known for their gradual increase in tempo, long, sustained takraars and complicated behlaawas and sargams. His version of Nasima contains brilliant examples of all these.Despite my best efforts however, the quality of the recording doesn't do justice to the performance that starts out slow, with a rather measured tempo. The first highlight is the takraar at the 3:20 minute mark that temporarily energizes the piece before gently ebbing back to the original tempo, followed immediately by another takraar. A number of apt girahs including  "Har kas vaseela daarad" and "Man Keestam" punctuate this takraar of the first verse. As the tempo gathers pace, Fareedi sahab and his Hamnavaas unleash a torrent of Girahs and Behlawaas before again slowing down at the 18:20 mark.

Each of the subsequent verses is similarly embellished, with the next major takraar coming near the end of the piece at the phrase "Tu-ee Sultaan". The last third of the performance is especially moving for it's use of some very beautiful Girahs from Punjabi Sufi poets including Bulleh Shah, Hazrat Sultan Bahu and Shah Ali Haider all inserted into a rousing takraar of "Ya Muhammad". The performance carries on at the same breakneck pace, each verse being repeatedly emphasized, with the final takraar a brief one at "Een Karam", after which the Qawwali culminates. Although the quality of the recording greatly hampers the enjoyment of this piece, it is a stirring rendition, and one of my favorites.

Ustad Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali Qawwals And Party

A mention of the 'shagird' naturally leads to the ustaad, with the next recording being of those giants of Qawwali, Ustad Fateh Ali- Mubarak Ali Qawwal. The two brothers were pioneers, popularizers and innovators par excellence in the field of Qawwali. With Fateh Ali's higher register and emphatic delivery perfectly complemented by his brother's vocal dexterity, they were the pre-eminent Qawwal ensemble of the 40's, 50's and early '60s till Fateh Ali Khan's untimely death. Nusrat's style, as well as that of their many Shagirds, carries echoes of this power-house group's performance idiom.

In this very rare recording, the party is accompanied by Sarangi and flute and both brothers beautifully display their vocal dexterity. Mubarak Ali's taans punctuate the Qawwali at regular intervals while Fateh Ali emphasizes the text with choice Girahs. The beautiful girah at 'Dard-e-dil' is the first of these, quickly followed by beautiful improvisation by Mubarak Ali. The following verses are similarly embellished with alaaps, girahs and brief takraars with the sarangi and flute in the background proving a beautiful counterpoint to the vocalists. The tempo remains steady throughout each verse. Mubarak Ali performs one final feat of vocal virtuosity near the end and the performance ends without the tempo flagging for an instant.

Bakhshi, Salamat Qawwal And Party

The final performance in this piece is by another talented 'Shagird' of Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali Qawwals, the preternaturally gifted party of  Bakhshi,Salamat Qawwal Party. In my opinion, the Qawwals most similar in style to Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali were the Bakhshi Salamat party, with an especially similar emphatic style.If I were to choose a current favorite among the various versions of 'Naseema", this would be it. It starts of with a beautiful Clarinet sazeena that is both mellow and full-bodied. the baaja next takes over with the main melody line and the vocals commence with an alaap.

Bakhshi Khan starts with a unique doha ; a verse each in Farsi and Urdu. The almost pleading, aching, lament-like delivery of these two verses is very beautiful. The first verse of the kalaam proper is punctuated in a similar style, with Salamat Khan's phrasing ( Jaaa- NIBE) eliciting the kalaam's poignant theme of longing for the land of the beloved Prophet (S.A.W). The next verse is embellished with brief takraars and alaaps, with the second hemistitch repeated over and over before Bakhshi Khan inserts two girahs, pausing before and emphasising the last words of each in such a way that the desperation and intense longing of the poet is apparent ('Jab dard diya tum ne, phir tum hi dawaa.......KARNA!', ' Ba haale mubtelaae man nazar.....KUN').

The second highlight comes at the takraar of the second hemistitch of the third verse where the Qawwals modify the original text into "Be raahe lutf" and launch into a beautiful takraar punctuated by Bakhshi Khan's cries of 'Aye Ji!'. The final verse sees a takraar of 'Een karam' as the poet pleads his case with growing desperation, before finally, resignedly entrusting the morning breeze, - the Naseem - his message in the hope that it will reach the land of the Prophet (S.A.W) and his pleas will one day be heard.

There are many other versions of this immortal kalaam, both by Qawwals as well as Naatkhwaans, however I've restricted myself to my five most favorite versions. What's obvious in all these performances is how each Qawwal's individual style highlights the various aspects of Jami's kalam and how a single piece of Sufi poetry, despite being moulded and adapted by different Qawwals, still retains it's original message that Jami entrusted to the morning breeze centuries ago.

P.S Apologies for the rather shoddy translation, my Farsi's still at a rather primitive stage.

....Of "The Sinews Of The Prose"

"A good historian will remember that the world is his oyster and that syllables govern the world. He will be read if he can carry the people along with him. If he has a perfect command of the language he can make the long sweep of events into a vivid, moving, pulsating piece of prose. Words should come like water bubbling from a silver jar. And each word shall take it's proper place in the sequence and order of the narration, to draw a scene, or describe the tumult of a revolution or the commotion of a riot, or emphasize the inner significance of an event, or paint the character of a personage. The vocabulary is large, felicitous and varied; and the words, particularly the adjectives and adverbs, stand at attention waiting to be summoned to duty. The sinews of the prose are supple and strong. The story spins itself out with unimpeded ease and lulling fluency. The fertility of phrase is such that veil by veil the mystery of events unwinds itself. Long sentences run with a natural effortlessness, with one clause following another in magnificent succession. The sifted purity of the prose idiom merges with the lyrical surge of argument. everything is clear, unambiguous, stark, meaningful. The reach is long, the descriptive power unruffled by the change of scene, the portrayal revealing, the analysis of motives penetrating and balanced, the impact shattering. In sum, a quick, glinting style like a stream over rocks; limpid, rapid, revealing, flashing, sparkling, hiding nothing, distorting nothing, making dulcet music out of history."

Excerpted from Prof. KK Aziz's monumental "The Murder Of History : A Critique Of History Textbooks Used In Pakistan".

...Of An Unexpected (And Unbelievable) Find

Two months ago on a trip to Rawalpindi/Islamabad for my Convocation, I spent a day with some very special friends at what I have decided to call "Qawwali Central". At an unassuming house in an unfrequented corner of Islamabad that serves as the office of a Lab Equipment distribution company, I met a couple of friends over a cup of tea and spent four or five highly enjoyable hours listening to, discussing and sharing the whole spectrum of sub-continental classical and devotional music. I sensed pretty early on that I was being initiated into a rather exclusive group of people that treat Sufi Music not just as a part-time means of entertainment but as a passion that occupies a prominent place in their daily lives. We talked about the many projects that each of us is undertaking in our spare time-from cataloging and digitizing cassette tapes to transcribing and editing them to trying to publish the transcribed, annotated Qawwali mehfils in our collection.

And obviously, we listened. I heard several artists and recordings that I was dying to hear for a very long time and they heard what little I had to offer that wasn't already in their possession. Among the various phenomenal pieces of music that I heard for the first time were Gramophone recordings from the '30s and '40s of the two giants of pre-partition Qawwali ; Ali Buksh "Waiz" Qawwal and Azeem Prem Ragi. These two Qawwals hold an almost mythical status in 20th century Qawwali history, being Qawwali what Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters were to the Blues; innovators and popularizers of a centuries old art form who had a profound effect on generations of Qawwals to come. Their recordings were terribly hard to come by and I'd previously had to satisfy myself with reading Prof. Regula Qureshi's evocative accounts of their performances but this time around I had the pleasure of actually listening to them and it was definitely worth the wait.

I left Islamabad with a truckload of new recordings and have listened to them non-stop over the last two months. While listening to one of the MP3s, I came upon a surprising discovery. Unless I was greatly mistaken, I could clearly hear Munshi Raziuddin's distinctive voice on a recording labelled as Ali Buksh "Waiz" Qawwal. Since the recording was very muddy and I wasn't sure what to make of it, I called up the folks at Qawwali Central to clarify. I also sent off emails to a number of very knowledgeable connoisseurs including Abu Muhammad Sb - Munshi saheb's son and one of Pakistan's most eminent Qawwals. From all of them I inquired if Munshi Raziuddin had ever performed with Waiz Qawwal, however I could find no evidence of such a collaboration.

Meanwhile, the folks at Qawwali Central came up with the clarification I was looking for. Munshi Raziuddin had never performed with Waiz and it was actually a mislabeled recording of *pause for effect* the original Manzoor Niazi Qawwal Aur Hamnavaa group performing at Pakpattan. Further proof of the veracity of the information was provided when the gentleman who had actually recorded the Qawwali in the early '60s on a reel-to-reel was contacted and he confirmed that it was definitely the Manzoor Niazi group, and that the recording was made at a Mehfil-e-Sama'a on the occasion of Baba Farid's Urs celebration. So there I had it, confirmation that I did indeed have a truly rare and beautiful recording of the Manzoor Niazi troupe.

Two or three weeks after this I visited Islamabad again and had the immense pleasure of listening to and meeting Farid Ayaz and Abu Muhammad Qawwals where among other things I discussed the recording I had found. I promised that I'd share it with them after I'd edited it a bit to make it more listenable. I've sporadically worked on it over the past month and I think it's in a listenable and share-able form now. A 50 year old amateur recording, it was in pretty bad shape, muddy and distorted with a lot of pop and hiss and variations of pitch and tempo. I've tried to improve it as much as I can and although the end result is far from perfect, I think it's listenable enough to be able to appreciate the performance at great detail.

So without further ado, here is a 27 minute recording of Munshi Raziuddin, Ustad Bahauddin Qawwal and Manzoor Ahmed Niazi performing "Koi Tum Sa Nazar Nahi Aata" at Hazrat Fariduddin Ganj Shakar (R.A)'s Shrine at Pakpattan in the early '60s.

                                         

 Yun to kya kya nazar nahi aata

Koi tum sa nazar nahi aata

Dhoondti hain jisse meri aankhain

Woh tamasha nazar nahi aata.

Ho chali khatm Intezaar main Umr

Koi aata nazar nahi aata.

Jholiyaan sab ki bharti jaati hain

Dene wala nazar nahi aata.

Jo nazar aate hain, nahi apney

Jo hai apna, nazar nahi aata.

Zair-e-sayaa hoon uss ke ae Amjad

Jiss ka sayaa nazar nahi aata.

 

I couldn't discern Iftekhar Ahmed Nizami's voice among the Qawwals, an omission that can be better explained by more knowledgable heads than mine.The kalaam is a beautiful one that I haven't heard before and the 'girahs' inserted by all three Qawwals are extremely apt and very moving. The collaborative singing is of the highest order, reaffirming the loss Qawwali suffered when the Manzoor Niazi Aur Hamnavaa ensemble split up. But as in the recording above, the group in all its glory has the power to transport the listener to giddy heights indeed.

P.S For a copy of the recording, leave a request in the comments.

....Of Rafi Yet Again

 I guess it's true what the sentimentalists say about first love, no matter how many times you find new people and settle into new relationships, it's always your very first infatuation that you treasure the deepest and let your mind wander back to when it needs solace.

Rafi sahab has been and always will be my favorite singer. And though I go through phases where Qawwali, Ghazal,Kafi,Folk and the Blues are foremost on my playlists, Rafi sahab is always my first and final port-of-call. Here's something brilliant I found on Youtube, an excellent program on Rafi sahab produced by HumTV. I saw it in the morning today and have been on a Rafi 'trip' ever since. Arshad Mehmood and Anwar Maqsood are probably the most "qualified" people to discuss the life and art of Rafi sahab, and they do an admirable job. Interspersed with tastefully chosen songs, the conversation is both enlightening and entertaining.















Movie Of The Week, How To Train Your Dragon,America, A Personal History By Alistair Cooke (Brilliant!!)

.....Of My Favorite Qawwali (So Far)

My "proper" introduction to Qawwali almost a year ago has, to put it mildly, changed my life. Going from the Sabri Brothers to Nusrat to the Qawwal Bacchon Ka Gharaana and Haji Mehboob Qawwal of Golra Sharif among many others; I've been exposed to some of the greatest music ever to come out of Pakistan. I can never, and I mean NEVER adequately express my gratitude to the friends of mine who introduced me "properly" to Qawwali.

Some artists, recordings, kalaams and compositions have naturally moved me more than others, and unless something truly earth-shaking comes my way, I've picked out my favorites and will probably stick with them for a long while.

In many ways, I've found Qawwali to be akin to jazz, mainly that it's a players', rather than a composer's art. The "songbook" is immense,with sources ranging from Arabic,Persian,Urdu,Brij bhaasha,Hindi, Punjabi and almost all sub-continental languages. The main difference between the performers is their unique melodic improvisation and the use of "girah" or "bandish" to expound the main theme of the piece they're singing. A person as lazy as me will never be able to explain all the sometimes minute variations that make each Qawwal unique, but I think if I let them speak for themselves, as it were, it'll be best.

 Right now, "Manam Mehve Jamaale Oo", a kalaam,of Hazrat Bu Ali Shah Qalandar, is probably my favorite kalaam in the Qawwali repertoire, and a lot of Qawwals have performed it in their own unique way. Below are three of my favorite versions by three of my favorite Qawwals. It'll be pretty clear how each Qawwal gives his own special "signature to the kalaam.

  First off is the version by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Party, taken from the "Last Studio Recordings" release. It's ironic that while most of Nusrat's traditional Qawwali work (as opposed to his "commercial" releases) from the last decade of his life did not get the recording treatment it deserved, his very last recordings are a joy to listen to. The fidelity is brilliant, and Nusrat and his Hamnavaas are in a (sadly rare in his last days) brilliant groove. Nusrat changes the first verse from "Manam Mehve Jamale Oo" to "Manam Mehve Khayaale Oo", but otherwise it's a pretty faithful rendition. The behlaawas,sargams and taans, for which Nusrat was justly famous, are all here, making it a brilliant rendition.

Next is a version by Haji Mehboob Qawwal, the darbaari Qawwal of Golra Shareef. Haji sahab is probably in my top two favorite Qawwals. Nusrat once said about him," Girah main Haji sahab ke muqaable ka Qawwal is duniya main nahi hai."  Haji sahab did not record commercially, the precious little of his work that keeps trickling down to his admirers is from bootleg recordings made by the zaaireen at the Golra Shareef shrine who attended the daily morning Qawwali mehfils that are still regularly held there. His work can best be described as a "wa'az", a spiritual instruction imparted through the medium of Qawwali, and as you can hear, the girahs he inserts in the main kalaam act to expound and explain the subject at hand. In Urdu, Punjabi, Arabic and Persian; the variety of couplets that he recites throughout the qawwali serve to enlighten the listeners even if they can't understand the language of the main text.

  The recording on the playlist comes off as a revelation if you compare it with the original master recordings on cassette, the result of a painstaking and extremely ambitious conservation project started by some friends of mine who are admirers of Haji sahab's work. The task of cleaning up, digitizing, enhancing, cataloging and transcribing all of Haji Sahab's recorded work is an arduous task, but they've taken it up gladly and the results are astounding to say the least. To me, just the joy of being able to Haji Sahab playing the sitar in accompaniement to his Qawwalis is more than enough compensation for the hours and hours of work put in.
The final version of the kalaam is probably my favorite. Performed by Ustad Bahauddin Qawwal and Party in 1998, this concert recording perfectly embodies the elements that define the "Qawwal Bacchon Ka Gharaana"; the oldest and greatest pedigree of Qawwals. A beautiful arrangement, different from the previous two, adds a serenity and majesty to the kalaam that is absent from other versions. There are no girahs to speak of, no extra taans or behlaawas, and the sheer economy of the piece, along with Ustad Bahauddin's unique voice and his sons' vocal virtuosity brings out new meanings from the verses. The quality of the recording isn't exceptional, with the voices getting slightly screechy in the higher register, but still, it is brilliant.

....Of Splendid Isolation And Selfish Indulgences

 One of the (many) perks of having a blog with limited readership is that I can indulge myself without having to worry about alienating/impressing/provoking a sizable number of readers. I'm sure the 4 or 5 people who do occasionally glance at my blog won't mind if I post what are quite possibly my three favorite Youtube videos of all time. Actually it's two videos,with one split in the middle.

  First off, here's Ustad Salamat Ali Khan singing one of Baba Ghulam Farid's kaafis in Raag Sindhi Bhairvi. What makes this video priceless is first of all the performance, with Ustad sahab clearly enjoying every wonderful note and Shaukat Ali Khan giving some inspired accompaniment on the tabla. But the icing on the cake is the audience...Ashfaq Ahmed sahab, Shahnaz Begum, a very young Pervez Mehdi, Ghulam Ali, Rajab Ali, Ustad Fateh Ali Khan and a clearly emotional Masood Rana....and the way they respond to every nuance, every embellishment of the performance. I've been watching this performance at least once a day,every day for the past two months, and I have no plans of quitting.






Next comes another classical performance, from the same TV show;Nikhaar, that used to air during the mid-seventies from PTV Karachi,hosted by Ashfaq sahab and with the choice of audience just as inspired as the performer. The performers are the incomparable Ustads Amanat Ali-Fateh Ali Khan singing "Kab Aao Ge Tum Aao Ge", accompanied once again by Shaukat Ali Khan on Tabla before an audience comprising Ashfaq Ahmed sahab, Asha Posley, Ghulam Ali,a very animated Shaukat Ali, Nasir Kazmi, Qateel Shifai and Mallika Pukhraj. The contrasting styles of the two brothers fuse perfectly to define the Patiala andaaz of gayeki. Another bit of essential daily viewing, this video is made more poignant by the fact that this was Ustad Amanat Ali Khan's last recorded performance before his very untimely death. One can only imagine what more magic these two brothers would've created together, given the chance....

...Of Iqbal Bano

I think I was seven or eight years old, my folks were living in Jhelum when my mother fell ill and had to be admitted to the hospital. Hospital admissions weren't a very rare thing in my household back then, so I wasn't unduly worried. What worried me however were the frequent trips back and forth across the Jhelum river, because the hospital was on the other side of it, and the (legendary) bridge was a single lane affair where traffic from one end had to stop for hours on end to let the traffic (or trains) from the other end pass. I hated making daytime trips across it in the hot, dusty and noisy summer afternoons.

The trips late at night however were a completely different thing. At around 9 or 9.30, dad, me and my kid brother would set out from home with dinner and other stuff for mum and just before we hit the now quite empty bridge, dad would turn on the car stereo. As the car rolled over the then wide expanse of murky water which was now glittering with the reflection of the many roadlights, we would listen to Iqbal Bano singing Faiz.

I was a 2nd or 3rd grader at that time and of course most of what was being sung was going over my head, or at least most of the literal meanings. But I used to sit there in the back seat, leaning forwards till my head was almost on the gearbox, my ears perked up as I tried to absorb as much of this wondrous music and remember the words and melody so that I could practice it at home. I can safely say that that one week of nighttime river crossings made me fall in love with music.

The one thing I noticed about Iqbal Bano's voice even back then was the remarkable 'bite' it possessed, the ability to navigate daringly different compostitions, and the ability to do justice to Faiz sahab's nazms (which only Nayyara Noor and sometimes Tina Sani can match). I busted my guts trying to learn "Na Ganvaao Navak-e-Neem Kash" till I finally managed to do so, and the ability to finally sing it at a school function in 4th grade in front of unsuspecting kids is one of my happiest memories.

The debt I owe to Iqbal Bano is immense. Awakening in me a love of ghazal, nazm, Faiz, Nasir Kazmi and Qasmi sahab is something that she can claim the credit for. My dad loved her voice, so I got to hear a lot of her ghazals, nazms and the few but breathtankingly brilliant film songs all my childhood, and I can't thank my stars enough for that.

Faiz Sahab had a charming habit of 'gifting' his ghazals and nazms to the singers who had sung what would later come to be recognized as the definitive performances of his work; Mehdi Hasan with "Gulon Main Rang Bharay", Noorjehan with "Mujh Se Pehli Si Mohabbat", Nayyara Noor with "Hum Ke Thehre Ajnabi"....and Iqbal Bano with "Dasht-e-Tanhaai", arguably his greatest nazm. The near perfection of her performance of "Dasht-e-Tanhaai" is right up there with the greatest achievements of North Indian music. Add to that her spontaneous and thunderingly electric performance of "Hum Dekhaingay" at Lahore in the '80s makes her arguably Faiz's greatest interpreter.

I have seen a lot of my childhood heroes pass away one after the other in the last five or six years. Zameer Jaafri sahab, Qasmi sahab, Ashfaq sahab, Inayat Hussain Bhatti, Mallika Pukhraj, and now Iqbal Bano. The reaper has to make his round and deprive us those we love, but the inevitability of death doesn't lessen the grief that accompanies it. I have been feeling terribly low for the past week, trying to shore up my meager collection of her works and trying to find time to write a few words in her memory.

Whenever I plan a trip to Lahore, the one thing my dad always tells me to do is to visit Mehdi Hasan's house and pay my respects, but because of one thing or another (mostly my laziness and Khan Sahab's illness) I haven't been able to do so. Now with Iqbal Bano gone, only Mehdi Hasan and Fareeda Khanum remain of the golden generation of ghazal singers, and the next time (if there is a next time) I visit Lahore, I'm going to gather up courage and go visit the greatest singer this country has ever produced.

In the end, I'm reminded of the sweet irony that Iqbal Bano passed away on April 21st, 71 years to the day Allama Iqbal passed away. May her soul find eternal peace....

Sabhi kuch hai tera diya huwa
  Sabhi raahatein, sabhi kulfatain.....

...Of Men,Old And Old

(This is the second in a series of posts written in a single sitting to make up for lost time.)



-"In my heliotrope pyjamas with the old gold stripe..."

Read that line.Read it again and then tell me if it isn't the finest line you've ever read.Evelyn Waugh compared it to the best passages of Hamlet,Hilaire Belloc called it's writer "The best living writer in the English language".Plum wrote it.P.G. Wodehouse.



I sat down to write tonight after two horrid weeks of examinations.There had been divers things that needed writnhg,but, a) I didn't have time during the exams and b) they were tiny snippets of fleeting thoughts and afternoon-slumber-dreams that didn't warrant a full post.But the one thing they had in common was that they all were,how shall I put it....gentlemen advanced in years.



Old men.



This is a bit complicated.Most of the people I'm going to write about must have been young at some point in their lives (?),but my memory of them developed as old men.Take Plum,for example.Born in 1881,he must have been young till,shall we say 1921 (stretching it to breaking point),and I've got photographs to prove it.But the Plum I remember is ninety one years old.Living peacefully in Remsenberg,NY;working on his ninety-sixth novel.Aah well,that must be what Pavlov meant about conditioning.



What follows is a series of snippets about various men who have been profoundly close to my heart,and still are.Men I've grown up seeing,or discovered after they had passed away.Let me start with the youngest one first.



-Dildar Pervez Bhatti.I hope somebody still remembers him.I had a dream about him five days ago,during what might be termed as a power-nap.Strange,but not very out-of-the-ordinary,considering the fact that he was one of my childhood heroes.I was born a bit too late for his "Takra" days on PTV,(aah what stage shows they had on PTV in those days,sigh),but I was old enough to watch "Panjnad",and what a show that was.



Fronted by Bhatti,always in a blue Shalwar Kameez-dark waistcoat combo or something similar,looking half like a stock mad professor from a Hammer film,with his half bald-half Jewfro hair,this show was the tops.Considering it was considered part of the regional broadcast timeslot,the quality of the program and the guests that were on it were unbelievable.My favorite memory,also the funniest is of the time Munnoo Bhai was on the show.

I'm pretty sure it won't sound half as funny in English,but the exchange went something like this.

Dildar,"Tell me,what does your wife call you at home? Munnoo ??"
M.B,"Nope.She calls me.....dildaar !"

I don't have much to remember Bhatti by.There's a fourteen years old "Women's Own" magazine lying about my village home with Bhatti on the cover.

And then there's my crazy dreams...

......This series will continue intermittently,laziness permitting......

....Of Munich '58

I have a knack for doing things in reverse.





Take Dylan, for example.I was a Dylan fan way before I had heard him sing.Way before that in fact.I had stumbled upon an article about him,gotten hooked and began to dug deep. I read up everything I could get my hands on,which wasn't very much I must admit.But it gave me an idea of what I was in for before I was floored by Like A Rolling Stone. I'm pretty sure that if I'd heard that brilliant nasal drone unawares,my experience would have been quite different.





I am a football freak,as any friend of mine would tell you.I support Manchester United..(the understatement of the century),have done so for at least ten years now.The first United match I saw was eight years ago.(He's loony,you say...and I don't blame you).





The same lopsided logic applies here.It wasn't the football United played that attracted me.Niether did the fact that they were the most successful and entertaining side in the world while I was growing up in the nineties.Or the fact that by the time I started following them religiously,they had won,or were on the verge of winning just about every trophy you could name.





The reason I fell in love with United was...Munich.





At the end of the Second World War,United were a struggling club ; almost bankrupt,their stadium badly bombed,without a full time manager.That's when they hit a rich vein of luck by signing a Scotsman, a former Manchester City and Liverpool player as manager.His name was Matt Busby.He inherited a football team in a very sad state,but he set about remedying it.The key word was Youth.Lads in school,or just out of school with a knack for playing fast,attacking,entertaining football.





A team was quickly built,and the work began.They won the FA cup in 1948,defeating a strong Blackpool side.Four years later,they were League champions.As the first great post-war team was maturing,the plan kicked into overdrive and the first batch of youngsters got signed.This batch was already proving to be outstanding,having won the FA Youth Cup an astonishing five times.Roger Byrne,Jackie Blanchflower,Bill Foulkes,Mark Jones,David Pegg,Liam Whelan,Eddie Colman and Duncan Edwards joined the first team,a product of the United youth and scouting program.





Something magical happened,this team of young lads turned into the leanest football machine in England.They won the League in 1956.And again in 1957.And they didn't just win it,they won it with style,with pace and attacking vigor that had never before been seen.They were not just a team anymore.,They were Matt Busby's little bounders.They were The Busby Babes !!





If ever they're playing in your town,


You must get to that football ground,


Take a look and you will see,


Football taught by Matt Busby.


Manchester,


Manchester United,


A bunch of bouncing Busby babes,


They deserve to be knighted.





So goes a famous terrace song,"Manchester Calypso"





But winning in England was just the beginning.There was a new adventure just beginning...Europe. England had long considered itself the home of football,and somewhat scorned upon the rest of the football playing world.The notion that since they had invented the game,they were by default the best team,was shattered when the Hungarians-The Mighty Magyars-,thrashed them at Wembley,England's home ground.English football had retreated into a Europhobic shell by the time the Babes arrived,but European club football was just starting.





The English Football Association-The FA-,myopically prohibited any English club from playing in Europe.But Matt Busby defied them and entered Manchester United in the european Cup.The Babes' first European game was at home to Belgian club Anderlecht.There was apprehension as to how the kids from England would faare against European opposition.But all those fears were allayed as the Babes licked Anderlecht 10-0.The adventure was on.





They reached the semi-final in their first attempt,ultimately losing to eventual winners Real Madrid in an entertaining encounter.But the stage was set,the torch had been lit and the Babes were ready for another try,confident that this time they could go all the way.1958 began on a positive note.Slow and steady,the Babes were advancing on three fronts.They were onthe way to reclaiming their third League title,were still in the FA cup,and had just won the first leg of the European Cup quarter final against Red Star Belgrade (Crevna Zvevda).





Full of anticipation,the team set out to Yugoslavia for the return leg of the match.On 6th February,1958,after a very intriguing game,they drew 3-3,thus ensuring a place in the semi final against AC Milan of Italy.The second Semi-Final in the second attempt.This time,there was a genuine hope that this team,whose average age was just 22,would go all the way.They flew back to England on a twin-propeller Elizabethan aircraft.With a blizzard raging,they had to stop at Munich to refuel.A quick refuel later,they were ready to take off.A first attempt failed,so did a second one.





There were thoughts about abandoning the trip for the day and heading back on the next,but the captain decided against it.The runway was covered with ice and slush,the wings were iced over.and there was heavy snowing when the plane set off for the third time.The plane set off,and just before the wheels left the tarmac,the plane skidded,slipped and crashed into a barrier.One of it's wings hit the side of a house and the plane caught fire.As survivors dragged themselves out of the burning wreckage,the greatest tragedy in english football had unfolded.

At 3.04 PM on 6th February 1958,23 people died,including eight of the Busby Babes-Geoff Bent,Roger Byrne,Eddie Colman,Mark Jones,David Pegg,Tommy Taylor and Billy Whelan.In addition,three club officials,Walter Crickmer,Tom Curry and Bert Whalley also perished,along with the plane staff and some journalists.The greatest football team in England was no more.





Duncan Edwards,Big Brilliant Dunc followed fifteen days later,after valiantly struggling for life,even saying that he was ready for the next match,two days before he passed away.Matt Busby,the manager,badly injured,struggled on.His injuries were so severe that he was twice given his Last Rites.



Back in England,the country was in shock.The whole of England,irrespective of club loyalties,was in mourning for the bunch of young lads who had set football ablaze with their own brand of football.The loss to Manchester United,and to British football was immense.Most of the Babes were playing for their national teams,and were a symbol of hope for the international tournaments to come.The crash not only deprived United of their greatest team,but also cost England the world cups of 1958 and 1962,which would have had entirely different outcomes if the likes of the great Duncan Edwards had played.

The story wasn't over yet,in a scene unimaginable today,United had to play their next competitive match just 13 days later.An immobile Matt Busby told assistant manager Jimmy Murphy,"Keep the flag flying,Jimmy".In barely two weeks,Murphy managed to string together a team that included survivors still recovering from the trauma,reserve team players and hastily bought replacements.This team astonishingly reached the final of the FA cup,before losing to Bolton 2-1 in an emotional final as Matt Busby,in crutches,watched from the sidelines.


Busby was the one who suffered the most.He head seen these kids grow up,and he considered himself responsible for the disaster by ignoring the FA's orders and playing in Europe.These feelings stayed with him for many years,while he rebuilt Manchester United from the ground up,just as he had done after the war.This resurgence was finally complete when,10 years after the crash,United beat Benfica from Portugal 4-1 at Wembley to finally lift the European Cup which they had set out for way back in 1957.Matt Busby was knighted that year for his services to football.This was the ultimate fruit of Busby's labours,it also served as his great catharsis....


That was the story that turned me into a United fan,and as I watched United win against Munich that night in 1999 in the greatest European final ever,my journey was complete.It would have been Sir Matt's 90'th birthday if he was alive,but it served as the greatest birthday gift nonetheless.

I am still a United fan;I miss classses to watch them play,skip marriages and functions,scream my head off when we score a goal(just ask my neighbours),and sulk for days when we lose.But Munich is still special.And every year,when the 6th of February comes nearer,I go through my collection of articles,videos and photos,and -call me asentimental sod if you will-get almost teary eyed.This year was the 50th anniversary of the crash.The club commemorated it splendidly,the fans did their part brilliantly,while I sit here typing my own silent remembrance.


Here's to the Babes.....The Flowers Of Manchester !!


Books Of The Month...Among The Thugs.Bill Buford.The Compulsive Spike Milligan.
Movies Of The Month...I'm Not There,Atonement,Sweeney Todd,There Will Be Blood.
Songs Of The Month....Bob Dylan And Wynton Marsalis,Jazz In New York City (Bootleg)