|
|
|
Qawwali lite
I was quite hesitant when a qawwali invitation was handed to me recently. Normally, out of stubborn habit, I don’t like attending qawwalis hosted by anyone other than those associated with sufi silsilas. Because when it comes to qawwali and the traditions associated with this ancient art, I can be rather fusty. But my personal prejudices aside, I was coerced into attending a Mehfil-i-Qawwali presented by the Pakistan National Council of the Arts, Karachi, featuring Maqbool Sabri Qawwal.
Qawwali in Ramazan is in itself a rather odd thing. For starters, at most of the Sufi Khanqas of the subcontinent, sama is either not performed during the holy month, or if it is, it is done so for a very brief period without instruments. But nowadays, these sort of events have become a sort of ‘religious entertainment,’ if such a thing exists. For the sincere Sufi, the nights of Ramazan are reserved for contemplation and prayer, seldom for sama.
But one supposes that despite all the protestations made by qawwali purists, these kinds of commercialized ‘modern’ qawwalis will keep on happening, alongside the more traditional ones at Sufi shrines. The fact of the matter is, ‘modern’ qawwalis get the lion’s share of the scant media attention that qawwali as a whole gets. For the traditionalist silsilas will most likely never invite press-men or camera crews to one of their gatherings.
Maqbool Sabri, along with his late brother Ghulam Fareed Sabri, formed one of the most dynamic qawwal duos of this country. The party won all-the-more plaudits because they belonged to a non-qawwal family. This has put them in an unenviable spot as though they have garnered considerable international success, they are often derided by khandani qawwals. But criticism seemed the furthest thing from Maqbool Sabri’s mind as he made his way onto the stage, surrounded by his hamnawa in matching brown kurtas and white shalwars.
Amin-i-Ajam, Director of the PNCA, delivered a short speech detailing the upcoming activities of the PNCA, which was followed by Nusrat Ali’s brief but informed introduction in which he concisely described the history of qawwali.
Despite bad sound at the beginning of the performance, Sabri effortlessly launched into the fabled Qaul, perhaps the most powerful, magnetic kalaam ever recited. He followed the traditional masterpiece with a few awaami na’ats including Bhar Do Jholi Meri Ya Muhammad (peace be upon him). As tea was being served to the audience during his recitation, Sabri halted the proceedings, quite rightfully perturbed, pointing out that the consumption of food and drink while a qawwali is in session was against the etiquettes of the art.
After the tea break, Sabri and company continued with an improvisation of Jamiluddin Aali’s Hum Mustafavi Hain, following up with Ameer Khusrau’s Ze Haal-i-Miskeen. Sabri performed another Khusrau kalaam Chasm-e-Mast-e-Ajabe, wrapping up with the glorious Ambar Shah Warsi na’at Suhani Raat Thi, Aur Pur Sukoon Zamana Tha. That would have been a superb ending, but Sabri chose to close with another thoroughly awami number, Mein Tau Khawaja Ki Diwani. Suffice to say, there are many, many far more mature mankabuts in honour of Khawaja Ghareeb Nawaz (RZ).
There are a couple of things that need to be pointed out, not that they will change things a great deal, but because I feel it is my responsibility as a humble believer in the true essence of sama to do so. Firstly, nazar, or monetary offerings to the qawwals, are never, repeat, never given directly to the qawwal. At khanqas, they are handed over, quite respectfully, hand over hand, to the Shaikh of the mehfil, usually the sajjada-nasheen of the khanqa or silsila.
In appreciation of the qawwal’s efforts, alternate arrangements could have been made, but handing cash over to the qawwal seems to me to be in bad taste. But since bad taste is in these days, it matters little. But one thing that should be forcefully condemned is the practice of showering notes over the qawwals. Mind you, this practice might look fine at a mujra, but at a qawwali, even if it is that only in name, such behaviour should be avoided. Also, clapping, after every ‘number’ serves as anathema and made the few qawwali purists present cringe with distaste.
As Sabri concluded the proceedings by inviting the guests to dinner by saying that since they had just imbibed in the food of the soul, it was now time to partake in feasting of a more base variety, one audience member cynically commented that the food for the soul, that night, had decidedly been fast food.
A qawwali had also been organized previously at Karachi’s Creek Club in aid of Rahat Kada, this time featuring Farid Ayaz Qawwal and Hamnawa. This, one is told, was a different affair as Ayaz treated the audience to chaste Persian kalaam. And the fact that there were a couple of people in the audience who actually understood and appreciated the richness and depth of Persian poetry made things even more interesting.
|
|
|
|
