In search of the Beloved
ANJANA RAJAN
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The ICCR’s festival Traditions of Sufism catered to all tastes but Sufi.
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In these three evenings there was plenty of love. But
whether there was any point mixing up Sufism’s Beloved with all this love was debatable.
Photo: Shiv Kumar Pushpakar
Waiting outside the gate of Kamani auditorium.
The aggressive Delhiite yearns for a little peace of mind, some beautiful poetry, some aesthetic conversation to still the tumult of everyday life.
No wonder the music festival organised by the Indian Council for Cultural Relations, Traditions of Sufism, was a roaring success.
Eager listeners of Sufi singer Begum Farida Khanum of Pakistan.
But success is in the brain of the beholder, so to speak. If house full crowds and hundreds of disappointed fans locked out of the gates of Kamani auditorium signify success, then the ICCR had it on the opening day, when Farida Khanum performed.
The protests
Having closed the gates by 6.15 p.m., the security staff of Kamani would, by turns, ignore the questions and shouted complaints, snarl back at the protestors, or put in a meek agreement with them. With over a thousand entry passes (each admitting two persons) issued by the ICCR on one day alone, remarked one of the security guards, it did not take much mental mathematics to figure out why so many pass holders and a large press contingent were left fuming at the gates of the hall that seats approximately 800.
It also does not take unlimited experience in art administration to guess that Begum Farida Khanum would draw a crowd in Delhi that would easily exceed the capacity of Kamani. Why should ICCR, almost as old as independent India, ignore this tiny organisational glitch, one wondered. It seemed the officials of this government body did not really care. Because they certainly did not venture out of the hall to assuage the feelings of taxpayers, who began shouting anti-ICCR slogans and rattling the gates in true mob style.
The great irony of it is, in all these years of “free-ship” initiated by the various government departments dealing with culture, the classical arts have not percolated down to the lay public, for whose convenience, ostensibly, entry is made free. Concerts by big names draw chaos, especially when pass distribution is mismanaged. But newcomers, no matter how talented, perform to empty halls, as the real interest in listening to good music remains in a sliver of society.
Anyway, an hour past show-time, the crowd was told the gates would be opened if everyone promised “not to push”. In the event, the lack of a stampede was faintly comical. When the locks were released, the ‘mob’ stood still and silent, as if to emphasise this was no unruly dharna, but only a group of music lovers. Then they all streamed into the auditorium, where the Begum was in full flow, and proceeded to stand, crouch, squeeze into every crevice the hall could yield.
Now, remember this was a festival celebrating Traditions of Sufism. Farida Khanum is known for her popular ghazals – “Aaj Jaane ki Zidd na Karo”, “Mere Hamnafas, Mere Hamnavaa” and others. So every time she tried to present a Sufi composition, fans shouted out a request for one of the old favourites. She obliged them all, to the extent that after nearly three hours, her voice was definitely strained. Doubtless, she was the beloved that evening. But Sufism’s Beloved?
Similarly, on day three, Adil Barki, described as a “Sufi and contemporary singer” presented such a mixed bag of melodies – from Pankaj Mullick’s “Yeh Raatein Yeh Mausam” to Bulle Shah to “Jhoom Barabar Jhoom” – that some voices could be heard plaintively requesting Sufi compositions. Adil, however, announced that since it was such a “mixed crowd”, he would continue dishing out a potpourri. After his concert he distributed copies of his album among the excited crowd, superstar style.
On day two, a highly skilful Egyptian troupe, billed as “Tannoura Sufi (Darwish)”, had held up hope of some actual traditions of Sufism. But this group too played to the gallery. And though its virtuoso act, with percussions, dance and singing, was not to be scoffed at, it was an exhibitionist folk ensemble that need hardly have been labelled Sufi.
In these three evenings there was plenty of love. But whether there was any point mixing up Sufism’s Beloved with all this love was debatable.
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