Repeated playing over the years caused the cassette to deteriorate and one day, to my horror, the cassette deck suddenly started chewing up the tape. I managed to repair the cassette and the tape (believe me, this is no easy feat) but lost some crucial minutes of the recording. This accident prompted me to digitize the tape and preserve the rest. As usual, procrastination and preoccupation delayed the posting several years until Hasnain/Bootkhoob’s prodding shamed me into getting down to writing an introduction to this music.
The Setting
The mehfil was held in New Delhi in 1984 at the residence of a Dr. Hassan b Ali Al Ni’mah, Ambassador of Qatar to India. Dr. Hassan was reputedly a connoisseur of Indian classical music and his cultural affinity caused him to enjoy an extended tenure in this Ambassadorial assignment. I was told that he did not particularly like Qawwali and had an aversion to the harmonium (I share the latter taste with him). Munshi Raziuddin was touring Delhi with his sons and Naseeruddin Sami, his son-in-law and nephew. Dr. Hassan evidently heard them at a public concert and was sufficiently intrigued to request them to a mehfil at his residence.
The first unique feature of the mehfil is that the singing is backed by one of the leading contemporary sarangi players of Delhi. In addition the performance is supported by a regular taanpura (stringed drone) rather than electronic drones. Initially, I felt that this unplugged performance lacked something, but listening to it repeatedly revealed a lovely soothing, harmonious character.
The performance is augmented due to the fact that the three main singers—Munshi Raziuddin, his nephew Nasiruddin Sami and his son Fareed—were at the peak of their vocal prowess. The younger two have a particular freshness and vigour in their performance.
Then there is Munshi Raziuddin’s concentration on Khusrau’s kalaam, an effort to demonstrate the classicism that underlies Qawwali. As the host and audience became more absorbed, Razi Mian becomes a bit playful and provocative in reiterating that the music he is presenting is, indeed, Qawwali.
Finally there is an anecdote that Munshiji used to inform the audience of the genesis of North Indian classical music and Qawwali. This part of the expose was the recording that was chewed up by the tape deck. You, dear reader, will have to rely on my memory as I retell this anecdote here. Obviously, the written account will not be able to match the deliciousness of Munshiji’s language and diction …
Despite the exaggeration, this ghazal and raaga are among my favourites in Qawwali, for the sheer majesty of it all.
Track 9 is another beautiful and recitation on a similar theme in Raaga Piloo, “Aa ja moray Nainon main Saajana” [Enter into my eyes, my beloved]. A melancholic expression of yearning, it is not as excessive as “Bakhoobi”. Here passion is replaced by a mood of wistfulness that lends itself to the softness of the recital on this occasion.
(1) For a more complete version of this intriguing story, see: https://archive.aramcoworld.com/issue/200304/flight.of.the.blackbird.htm
(2) Text and translation taken from “Kalaam I Arifaan: Poetry of Mystics and Sufis” Compiled and Edited by Dr. Hasan Aziz, Published by Kalaam I Arifaan, 2014.
An Intriguing Story
The Abbassid Caliph Mamun-ur-Rashid (ruled 813-33 CE) was reputedly afflicted with an apparently irremediable stomach ailment that caused him much discomfort and pain. His perplexed court physicians eventually suggested that he consult an Indian Hakeem by the name of Manikhiya, a physician whose reputation ranged far beyond his native Delhi. The Pratihara’s would be the ruling dynasty of Northern-Western India at the time.
And so, the Hakeem was sent for, traversing the distance between his native India and Baghdad. As it happened, the Hakeem eventually cured the Caliph of his ailment. The grateful Caliph awarded the Hakeem a stipend and requested him to stay at his court, as consultant physician, a wish that the Hakeem fulfilled. Being a polymath, the Hakeem engaged in the study of music, medicine, philosophy and mathematics etc., all of which flourished in the Abbassid court.
Mamun had, in his court, a chief musician by the name of Ishaq-al-Mawsali (766-889 CE). In those days the court musician was a rather important part of the Caliph’s entourage. Like all other men of letters and music, Ishaq Mawsali was also a polymath. He used his knowledge to provide structure and codification to the music of his day. Naturally, Hakeem Manakhiya and Mawsali struck up a close friendship and mutually beneficial intellectual relationship spanning their numerous interests.
Eventually Hakeem Manakhiya returned to Delhi and his knowledge acquired in Baghdad was introduced and blended into the Indian musical traditions of the time, which led the Indian musical forms to eventually meander into the Dhurpad form of music that preceded Khayal as in modern Indian classical music.
That was Munshi Raziuddin’s part of this story, it was summarized in his introduction here, and we discussed it in greater detail over the years.
There is a linked story that I later came across. (1)
Ishaq Mawsali had a student and understudy by the name of Abu l-Hasan 'Ali Ibn Nafi', popularly known as Ziryab or Zeryab (789–857 A.C.) This young man was also a highly intelligent polymath, possessing a voice as beautiful as his visage. The Caliph was mesmerized by him and instructed that his position be elevated at court and he be awarded a handsome stipend.
There was one problem though.
His master, Ishaq Mawsali, perceived Zeryab as a threat to his eminence at court, and became profoundly jealous. So, Mawsali summoned Zeryab to present two alternatives. He offered Zeryab a sizeable sum of money as an incentive to leave Baghdad and the Abbasid realm forever. The alternative was that Zeryab stay at court where Mawsali promised to have him put to death someday.
Being a rather bright young fellow, Zeryab chose the former option, taking the money offered and following his fate. He wandered through Egypt and North Africa, ending up in Cordรณba as court musician to Abd ar-Rahman II of the Umayyad Dynasty. Zaryab attained great prominence and success at this court and, in addition to his musical achievement, had a powerful impact on court culture in Cordรณba. He is credited with inventing numerous points of etiquette and fashion that spread as the norm throughout Europe and exist to this day.
My point in splicing the two stories is to highlight the remarkable cultural interchange spanning the distance from India to Spain, with Baghdad as a fulcrum. In these days of the internet, information, tastes and cultural exchange travel at lightening speed. The medieval era saw global connections too, but these were refined and crystalized by the effort required to gain knowledge and to physically travel distances to transmit it.
Was that knowledge, while being confined to a few, deeper and more meaningful than that of this the instant sound-byte era?
Let us leave this and turn to the music.
The Music
The mehfil commences with the two recitations — Geet/Govind (Raaga Khat) and Qaul/Qalbana — as an exposition of “the beginning” of Qawwali. I have heard this combination on several occasions but none match the gravitas, musicality and beauty of this all-too-short performance.
Then we hear that magnificent ghazal composed in Khusrau, “Bakhoobi humchoo meh” recited in raaga Shahana, a composition by Khusrau. This is probably one of the earliest poems composed expressing Khusrau’s love for Hazrat Nizamuddin. It so reflects the hyperbolic expression of the poet suffering unrequited love, something that becomes the hallmark of Indo-Persian and Urdu ghazals for centuries hereafter!
B’khoobi humchoo meh Ta’binda ba’shi,
B’mulk’ay Dillbari pa’indah bashi.
[May your (the beloved’s) qualities forever be
shining like the moon. May you live
forever in the kingdom where others like
you have taken away the hearts (of their beloved)]
Mun’ay dervaish ra kushti
Ba ghamza, karam kardi
Ilaahi zindaaah bba’ashi.
[You have annihilated this dervaish (poet/mystic)
With your blandishment and pride. You
Have done an act of great kindness to me
May God always keep you alive and protected!]
Jafa kum kun kay farda
Roz’ay mehshar, b’roo’ay
Aashiqaan sharminda ba’shi.
[Do not be so callous, for (in future)
On the Day of Judgement you will be
Embarrassed when fced by your lovers
(for being so inconsiderate)
Ze qaid’ay do jahaan aazad
Ba’sham, agar to hamnasheen
Ber bunda ba’shi.
[I would be free of the imprisonments
Of both worlds if you were to sit
besides me (as a beloved)]
Jahaan sozi agar der ghamza
Aayee, shakar raizi agar
Der khandah ba’ashi.
[With your blandishment and
Embellishment you (have the power and)
Can set the entire world ablaze whilst
Your smile can ooze sugar and honey
B’rindi-o-b’shokhi humchoon
Khusrau, haza’raan
Khaanmaan berkanda ba’shi.
[You with your blandishment and pride
Have demolished thousands of households
Such as that of Khusrau] (2)
Despite the exaggeration, this ghazal and raaga are among my favourites in Qawwali, for the sheer majesty of it all.
Track 9 is another beautiful and recitation on a similar theme in Raaga Piloo, “Aa ja moray Nainon main Saajana” [Enter into my eyes, my beloved]. A melancholic expression of yearning, it is not as excessive as “Bakhoobi”. Here passion is replaced by a mood of wistfulness that lends itself to the softness of the recital on this occasion.
There is an underlying tension between Khayal and Qawwali in this performance. The absence of harmoniums, the muted rhythmic backing and the taankari of the junior members of the trio of singers drag the expose towards Khayal rather than what is considered conventional Qawwali. This causes Razi Mian to half-humorously observe at the beginning of track 10 “do gavaiyyon kay darmian aik Qawwal phus gya hai…” [A qawwal is stuck in between two (classical) singers].
This tension is resolved in the last three tracks where Naseer floats of into a series of beautiful alaaps and sargams, to be matched by Fareed who is no less in ability. These three tracks, to my mind, are the culmination of a great performance that is simple, sophisticated and bears listening over and over again.
The simplicity of the musical accompaniment and the muted rhythm just go to show that, at times, Less is More. — Asif Mamu
Footnotes:
2 comments:
This is a delightful exposรฉ and a valuable document for culture not only of South Asia, the Middle East and western Europe, but for music itself.
This was a beautifully written and evocative reflection on the concert. Your writing carries a strong sense of nostalgia, making the reader feel as if they, too, were witnessing that rare and remarkable performance. I appreciate how you blend historical context with personal recollection. It gives insight not only into the event itself but also into the broader musical traditions that shaped it. Weaving the details about Indian classical music, Qawwali, and the purist approach to sound makes this more than just a concert review — it becomes a tribute to the art form itself.
It's remarkable you can convey so much in so few words, avoiding unnecessary embellishment while still painting a vivid picture. The emphasis on musical authenticity, particularly the rejection of electronic drones in favor of traditional purity, resonates strongly. The closing thought—"sometimes, less is more"—perfectly encapsulates the essence of a truly transcendent musical experience. Thank you for sharing this memory with such subtlety and sophistication.
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