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.
The “Mahiya” 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.
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:
Two birds on a wire
my love.
It ain’t any fever
that I’ve got
I’m just burning with
desire my love!
The sky’s so blue my
love.
You wouldn’t ignore
me this way
If your heart was
true my love!
Fresh fruit on a cart
my love.
I don’t know how I’ll
survive
If you break my
heart, my love!
Children play with a
ball my love.
I’ve been staring at
my phone all day
Waiting for you to
call, my love.
P.S. the last stanza is a literal translation from one of
this year’s most popular Punjabi folk tunes.
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
wonderful post 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.
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 Munawwar Sultana and Ali Bukhsh Zahoor, 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.
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.
1. Koi Chittay Way Rupay Mahiya – Bakhshi Salamat Qawwal
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 2nd 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.
2. Gal Kurta Shahiye Da – Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi
Qawwal
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.
3. Do Zulfaan Challe Ve Challe – Maulvi Ahmed Hassan
Akhtar Hassan Bheranwale Qawwal
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.
4. Sonay Da Kil Mahiya – Bahauddin Qutbuddin Qawwal
featuring Abdullah Manzoor Niazi Qawwal
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.
5. Har Koi Sohna Ae – Ustad Muhammad Ali Fareedi Qawwal
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.
6. Koi Jora Pakkhiyaan Da – Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal (RA)
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.
