Seamless songs
Bageshree S.
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An evening of Sufi songs by Rajasthani artistes was a revelation to urban ears and minds in more ways than one
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Photo: Murali Kumar K.
AMAZING VOICES The striking part of the performance was the distinctive style of each artiste
Not to sing is close to blasphemy in the Marfat community in Pungalgad. "In fact, we wouldn't give a girl in marriage to a household that has no singers!" laughs Mukhtiyar Ali, an accomplished singer from the small village in Rajasthan, located barely 50 km away from the Pakistan border.
The community traces its origin to Sufi saint Khwaja Ghulam Farid, whose dargah is now in Pakistan. The musical repertoire of the Marfat community includes compositions of all those who defied the borders of caste, religion, gender and nationality such as Kabir, Mira Bai and Baba Bulle Shah. Once patronised by the Hindu kings who ruled the region, the community is now slowly opening up to other ways of keeping their art alive and spreading it. "I am the first person from the community to travel this far. My father found it intimidating to travel to even Bikaner," says Mukhtiyar.
The story of traditional singers from the Mirasi community in Rajasthan is not very different. Ask Mangi Bai how she learnt music and the very question strikes her as a bit strange. "Aise hi... sabhi tho gaa rahe the na..." Women from the community, who once sang in rich households during auspicious occasions and got nothing more than a length of cloth or some grains as remuneration, are now exploring other ways of harnessing their talent and earning a livelihood.
Mirasi and other singing communities of Rajasthan have now floated an organisation called Gaavaniyar, thanks to the initiative of the NGO, Urmul. "The women now demand a respectable remuneration when they sing. And somebody like Mangi Bai has travelled this far for the first time to sing for an audience," says Maane Khan, the manager of the troupe and a singer himself. Besides giving performances, now they also put their musical skills to unconventional uses such as spreading awareness on social issues in the villages of Rajasthan.
Members of Gaavaniyar, along with Mukhtiyar Ali, were in Bangalore last weekend at the invitation of a group of artists. The musical evening they presented at the packed hall of Alliance Francaise was a treat and a revelation to the urban ears fed on the assembly line music from Bollywood.
The concert began with Mangi Bai's "Kesariya Balam Padharo Maro Des...", the signature folk tune of Rajasthan that has seen many interpretations, from Hindustani classical to fusion. The artistes then took turns to take the audience on a journey of the less familiar musical treasures. Even the frequently-heard Sufi composition "Mast Kalandar" (thanks to Nusrat Fateh Ali's fusion version) sounded all new, prefixed with a mukhda that speaks of how there is proof of God in everything we see around us: "The sky stays up there without pillars. All's your glory." In deference for the uninitiated, the artistes paused in between to translate the kadi boli lines into simple Hindi.
For those of us conditioned to the stereotypical male and female voices, the most striking part of the performance was the distinctive style of each individual artiste. While Mangi Bai sang in a full-throated, rustic, androgynous voice, Nathu Khan's (whose nimble fingers worked wonders on the harmonium) softer voice came with a feathery wobble that we find in the likes of Talat Mehmood. A veteran member of the group, Babu Khan Bagadwa, introduced a comic element to the concert by singing the traditional Bhopa-Bhopi number (a male-female duet) by playing a kind of double-role with his voice. Mukhtiyar's refined singing style, on the other hand, showed influences of traditions such as qawwali and ghazal. Most of them unlettered, every singer was clearly enjoying his/her own music and the beauty of the wonderful lyrics they sang.
Shabnam Virmani, a documentary filmmaker who introduced the artistes, said that these traditional singers identify themselves as part of a seamless musical-literary-philosophical tradition that transcends conventional barriers. Mukhtiyar once told her: "When we sing for Hindus, we feel we are part of them. When we sing for Muslims, we feel we are part of them. When we sing for Sikhs, we feel we are part of them. Gaate gaate hum sabke ho gaye!" Mukhtiyar, while singing a Kabir bhajan at the concert, made a detour to Bulle Shah (with an unapologetic "That reminds me of a line from Bulle Shah") and returned right back to Kabir.
Mukhtiyar says that he and the fellow singers of his community sing in a Hanuman Ki Jagaran with as much devotion as they would in a dargah. He suddenly grows despondent as he adds: "Aaaj kal kuch log bhed ki baat kar rahe hain..." Mukhtiyar doesn't want to dwell too long on the painful thought that simply doesn't fit into his seamless scheme of things.
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