The Map To The Goldmine 2.0

I've found myself compelled to write after a gap of almost four years, and surprisingly this time it isn't an obituary. Since the blog settled into its state of suspended animation some eight years ago, my writing assignments have mostly focused one eulogizing some of the greatest talents produced by Pakistan. But back in the more wild-west days of the blog, when it hadn't been wholly taken over by my overlong monographs on Qawwali, this blog was your go-to guide to committing musical piracy. 

Some seventeen odd years ago, I discovered the then new-fangled streaming service Spotify, and was immediately blown away by the wealth of music available there. Since Spotify was then unavailable in Pakistan, I posted a guide to accessing the then nascent streaming service by methods which could charitably be described as less than legal. In my naivety, I had announced back in 2009 that Spotify held "almost the COMPLETE EMI PAKISTAN CATALOGUE !!!!", in all-caps and with four exclamation marks. Little did I know that the Pakistani music available on Spotify and other streaming sites was but a fraction of the catalogues of music recorded by EMI Pakistan and other Pakistani music companies. What I was to discover later was that in addition to the music released in by record companies, there exists a massive treasure trove of unreleased music stored in the archives of Radio Pakistan, Pakistan Television, the Pakistan National Council of the Arts and other national cultural organizations. 

Radio Pakistan especially, has remained the repository of Pakistan's sonic heritage for the last eight decades, broadcasting music from all parts (and before 1971, both wings) of Pakistan. Through its Transcription Service - later christened the "Central Productions Unit", Radio Pakistan also preserved recordings of a significant proportion of its broadcasts on tape and occasionally released selections from its archives in collaboration with EMI Pakistan. The vast majority of the Radio Pakistan archives however, remained stored in its vaults, often in very precarious conditions. A few years ago, thanks to the efforts of an enterprising producer, Radio Pakistan launched a YouTube channel where they began uploading some of the music from their archives, and we were treated to such gems as Aniqa Bano singing a Mus'hafi ghazal to the tune of a Pahari folk song and Ali Bakhsh Zahoor singing an actual folk song my grandmother used to sing to me. In addition, scattered recordings from the Radio Pakistan vaults could be found in the archives of collectors like Irfan Gabol, or the legendary collection of Luthfullah Khan Sb, curated on Khursheed Abdullah Sb's YouTube channel. 

Sometime last year, on one of my frequent trawls on the internet, I cam across something extraordinary, a new set of recordings by one of my favorite Qawwals. After overcoming my surprise (and joy), I did a fair bit of digging on a number of streaming sites and found out something that I'd like to announce today; besting my previous record, this time in all-caps, bold, and followed by five exclamation marks. Here goes: RADIO PAKISTAN HAS BEGUN RELEASING ITS CATALOGUE ONLINE !!!!! 

In the last six months, over a thousand albums, EPs and singles have been released on streaming by Radio Pakistan. Per usual, this has been done with very little fanfare, in an extremely arbitrary and haphazard manner, and with multiple labeling errors. The Hafiz Atta Muhammad Qawwal release features Ustad Naseeruddin Saami on the cover, the Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali albums can be found under the image and name of the classical vocalist Ustad Mubarak Ali, the Hamid Ali Bela albums feature the Patiyala Gharana vocalist Hamid Ali Khan, while the Salamat Ali Khan releases comprise a hodgepodge of tracks from Ustad Salamat Ali Khan of the Sham Chaurasi Gharana, Ustad Salamat Ali Khan the flautist and Ustad Salamat Ali Khan the ghazal singer. Be that as it may, the fact that gems from the Radio Pakistan archives, most of them unheard since their original broadcasts, are being released digitally in high quality audio recordings, is, to reiterate, a "Really Good Thing". Credit is due to the Radio Pakistan administrators and the powers that be, and I hope this project continues till most, if not all of the Radio Pakistan archives are available to the public again, thus fulfilling an important part of it's mandate as Pakistan's public broadcaster. Now if only someone would do the same with the issues of the Radio Pakistan magazine 'Ahang', we'd have access to a wealth of images and printed material charting the histroy of Pakistan from it's inception till today.

A veritable feast of Pakistani music is now available online, and it's staggering diversity reveals that in it's heyday, Radio Pakistan was exposing the Pakistani listening public to wonderful music from the length and breadth of the land. Now, for your listening pleasure are available recordings from erstwhile East Pakistan, Punjab, Sindh, Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa , featuring ghazals, geets, kaafis, qawwalis, hamd and na'at, with reliable sources informing me that releases from the Classical music archive are soon to follow. Since most streaming sites don't allow you to search for music by record label, my go to search tools have been the brilliant (if buggy) lbl.fm and the search page of Qobuz.com. Most of the recordings have been released under the generic title "Radio Pakistan Hits" and can be found on YouTube Music as well as Spotify. There's a mindbogglingly vast catalogue to explore, and if you're like me, hours upon hours of happy listening. To whet your appetite, I'll end the post with five of my current heavy-rotation favorites from the Radio Pakistan archives, tracks that left me slack-jawed in admiration and became immediate all-time favorites.

1. Ze Bedaade Tau Harf e Mehr Ra Naam o Nishaan Gum Shud - Ustad Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali Khan

 When I first stumbled on this erroneously labeled album, I let out a yelp of excitement that startled half my neighborhood. This Nazeeri Nishapuri ghazal is one of the most beautiful Qawwalis I've ever heard, and that's saying something.

 

 2. Kuja Boodi Ke Imshab Sokhti Azurda Jaanay Ra - Ijaz Hussain Hazravi

Another Nazeeri Nishapuri ghazal, this time by the ghazal singer who was one of Munshi Raziuddin's favorite musicians, and after listening to this recording, one can see why. Hazravi Sb was the pre-eminent young ghazal singer in Pakistan before Mehdi Hassan's ascendancy, and remained a deeply soulful voice till the end of his career.

 

3. Mere Dil Ko Shauq e Fughaan Nahi - Rasheeda Begum

One of the many "Radio Singers" I discovered via these recent releases, Rasheeda Begum's voice is a mix of Suman Kalyanpur and Mubarak Begum with a sweetness of tone and purity of talaffuz that made me an instant fan. Here she sings a ghazal of the 18th-19th century poet Khwaja Haider Ali Atish.

 

4. Jind'ri Lutti Tain Yaar Sajan - Basheer Ali Mahi

Basheer Ali Mahi was already one of my favorite singers. Listening to the half-a-dozen new recordings of his has deepened my admiration for him immensely. Here he sings the quintessential kafi known in my neck of the woods as the 'Rohi', imbuing it with his beautiful murki's and zamzamas. If that wasn't enough, he adds an extra verse at the end that I've never heard anyone else sing.

 

5. Kabeera Bhala Hua - Manzoor Ahmed Niazi Qawwal Aur Hamnava (The Badi Party)

There is something almost unbelievably brilliant about the fact that this 37 minute magnum opus of classical, khanqahi Qawwali was actually broadcast on Radio Pakistan. I can gleefully imagine an impressionable listener somewhere, tuned in to radio, completely oblivious to the fact that they were about to get their head blown open and their mind expanded to the n'th degree by the Badi Party in it's prime, firing on all cylinders, performing to an appreciative and animated audience.

 

There have been 1233 (!!!) singles, EPs and albums released so far on the PBC Music label, with a couple of dozen new releases every week. There have also been rumblings of a similar release program for the Pakistan Television musical treasures, which, if true, would mean another series of sleepless nights while I gorge myself on further musical delicacies. 

 

All in all, not a bad time to be a fan of Pakistani music.

...Of Sacred Soundtracks - Part II

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 Punjabi film songs and turn it into a haal-inducing na'at in Raag Darbari. 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 (case in point).

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. 

1. Ranjhan Yaar – Lyrics: Hazin Qadri, Music: Bakhshi Wazir

Film: Mera Naa Patay Khan - 1975

Film version: Mehnaz Begum

Qawwali version: Ameer Ali Khan Murkianwale Qawwal

    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.

2. Jo Main Jaanti Bichrat Hain Saiyyan – Lyrics: Shakeel Badayuni, Music: Naushad

Film: Shabab - 1958

Film version: Lata Mangeshkar

Qawwali Version: Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal

    

    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, another song from this film has received the Qawwali treatment, 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. 

3. Kya Jaane Kya Armaan Le Kar – Lyrics: Qateel Shifai, Music; Rasheed Attre

Film: Anaarkali - 1958

Film Version: Noorjehan

Qawwali Version: Captain Sufi Muhammad Ramzan 

    

    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?

4. Ve Laggiyan Di Lajj Rakha Layeen – Lyrics: Manzoor Jhalla, Music: Rehman Verma

Film: Chor Nalay Chattar – 1970

Film Version: Noorjehan

Qawwali Version: Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad Qawwal

    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. 

5. Sajna Assaan Raah Takdeyan Rehna – Lyrics: Tanveer Naqvi, Music: Master Tufail Hussain

Film: Bhola Sajan – 1974

Film Version: Noorjehan

Qawwali Version: Rafiq Hussain, Barkat Ali Ameer Ali Qawwal

   

     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. 

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.

...Of A Long Forgotten 'Muqabla'

 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.  By a wonderful combination of events, I had found myself in communication with the son of one of my favorite Qawwals, Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi. 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.

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.

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 Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali Khan, 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.

Nari Contractor (L) and Fazal Mehmood (R)
Pakistan's Test tour of India - 1961

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 1960-61 tour of India, 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.

Shankar Shambhu Qawwal

Fareedi Sb’s opponents were to be the two wonderfully talented brothers from Aligarh, Shankar Shambhu Qawwal. The two brothers had been classically trained by Ustad Chand Khan of the Delhi Gharana among others. Blessed with sibling harmonies 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.

Newspaper ad for 
Wednesday, 21st February

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 Rajendra Kumar and

Newspaper ad for
Wednesday 21st February

Pradeep Kumar would be the judges, along with the superb music directors Ravi and Madan Mohan, and the wonderful lyricist Chitragupt. 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 Mughal-e-Azam. 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”.

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 !."

Newspaper advertisement for the muqabla on the revised date
Saturday, 25th February 1961

Newspaper advertisement for the revised date
Saturday, 25th February 1961

A view of the stage
The competing parties on either side

Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi and Party

A view of the audience
On Prakash and K. Asif in front row

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 Dilip Kumar’s Pali Hill bungalow, an event which again was attended by quite a few members of the Bombay film fraternity.

Receiving the Gold Medal from K. Asif

Receiving the winner's Silver Cup 

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^th 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.

A brief handwritten account of the muqabla
From Fareedi Sb's family archive

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 (something that used to be the stock-in-trade of this blog, 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!

1.       Qaul – Mun Kunto Maula – Hz Amir Khusrau (RA)

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 previous blog-post 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.

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.

2.       Naat - Sallalaho Alaihi Wasallam – Sharib Lakhnavi / Bedam Shah Warsi

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 na’ats are superb examples of the genre, cheerful in their arrangements, steeped in ‘aqeedat’ and dripping with musicality. Fareedi Sb’s na’ats 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^th 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.

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.

3.       Ghazal – Itna Shadeed Gham Hai – Sardar Abdur Rab Nishtar

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.

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.

4.       Rung – Aaj Rung Hai – Hz Amir Khusrau (RA)

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.

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.

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.

...Of The Two Streams - Part 2

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!

Poet: Aziz-ul-Hasan Majzoob/Majzoob Dakkani?

Ghazal: Saari Duniya Mujhe Kehti Tera Saudayi Hai

Gayaki Angg: Iftekhar Ahmed Nizami

Qawwali Angg: Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal

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.

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!

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^th 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.

Poet: Anwar Mirzapuri
Ghazal: Main Nazar Se Pi Raha Hoon
Gayaki Angg: Iqbal Bano
Qawwali Angg: Maulvi Ahmed Hassan Akhter Hassan Bheranwale Qawwal

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.

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.

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.

Poet: Faiz Ahmad Faiz
Ghazal: Dil Main Ab Yun
Gayaki Angg: Mashooq Ali Khan
Qawwali Angg: Muhammad Ahmad Warsi Rampuri Qawwal

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!

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.

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.

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.

Poet: Qateel Shifai
Ghazal: Garmiye Hasrate Nakaam
Gayaki Angg: Zahida Parveen
Qawwali Angg: Agha Bashir Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal

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.

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.

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.

Ghazal: Tumhari Anjuman Se Utth Ke
Gayaki Angg: Fareeda Khanum
Qawwali Angg: Ustad Muhammad Ali Fareedi Qawwal

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

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. 

Poet: Qamar Jalalabadi
Ghazal: Kabhi Kaha Na Kisi Se
Gayaki Angg: Mehdi Hassan
Qawwali Angg: The Sabri Brothers Ensemble

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.

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.

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.

...Of Announcements, Astute Observations and the Aftaab-e-Sitar

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 Dream Journey 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.'

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. 

As a welcome gift at the blog's Grand Re-Re-Re-Re-Opening, 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, "This gentleman is playing beautifully and knows it." 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.

Ustad Vilayat Khan - Raag Hameer - Live at the Royal Festival Hall, 1993

...Of The Journey So Far

Around five months ago, me and my co-conspirators announced the details of our collaborative project entitled "The Dream Journey - Discovering Musicians Across Pakistan". 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.

We began by releasing short audio teasers on the project's Soundcloud page , 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.

For those who wish to follow our journey, we are on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and Instagram; where our current as well as future releases are being curated. For those who wish to support our project, please go HERE to donate via PayPal. Any and all donations shall be gratefully received and acknowledged.

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.

P.S Be sure to watch in HD

1. Charkha - Ustad Ameer Ali Khan And Party 

2. Kaliyan Sang Karat - Ustad Fareed Ayaz - Abu Muhammad Qawwal And Brothers

3. Dil Burd Az Mun - Ustad Abdullah Niazi & Waqas Niazi Qawwal

The King Is Dead, Long Live The King.

BB King passed away today at the age of 89. Rest in peace sir, and thank you !

...Of Sacred Soundtracks

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.

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 !

1. The Film song : Yeh Lo Main Haari Piya - Geeta Dutt. (OP Nayyar, Majrooh - Aar Paar - 1954)

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.


The Qawwali - Bande Di Soorat Vicchon - Barre Karam Din Sabri Qawwal

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.


2. The Song - Thandi Hawaien -Lata Mangeshkar ( SD Burman, Sahir - Naujawan - 1951)

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.



The Qawwali - Taeba Ko Jaayen, Bipta Sunaayen - Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal

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.


3. The Song - Bahaaro Mera Jeewan Bhi Sanwaaro - Lata Mangeshkar (Khayyam, Kaifi Azmi - Akhri Khat - 1966)

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 !!

The Qawwali - Pukaro, Shah-e-Jilaan Ko Pukaaro - Mubarak Ali Niaz Ali Qawwal

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 !


4. The Song - Chandni Raatein - Noor Jehan (Feroze Nizami - Dopatta - 1952)

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.


The Qawwali - Chandni Raatein - Agha Rasheed Ahmad Fareedi Qawwal

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.


5. The Song - Mera Dildaar Na Milaya - Suraiyya (Husnlal-Bhagatram - 1954)

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.


The Qawwali - Taen Ta Mera Yaar Na Milaya - Fateh Ali Mubarak Ali Qawwal

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.


6. The Song - Nigaahen Mila Kar Badal Jaane Waale - Noor Jehan (Rasheed Attre, Qateel Shifaai - Mehboob - 1962)

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.


The Qawwali - Khuda Ki Qasam Hai Khuda Jalwagar Hai - Haji Mahboob Ali Qawwal

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.



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) intelligently using popular tunes in devotional music doesn't cause a decrease in their spiritual appeal but actually enhances it.