Desicritics Category: Culture: Music

Susmit Bose, A Maestro of Indo-English Music

Amitabh Mitra — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 06:16:04 EST

I came across Susmit Bose one afternoon on a hot summer day at Delhi sometime in 1978. I am not sure of the year and it might be even before that. Delhi was my favourite hunting ground, hunting for poetry books, trying to sell my poetry book, hunting to fall in love again and again, it was all about love and poetry as it is still now. I have actually never met him till today.

We have a mutual friend who owns a busy café cum gift shop just below Indian Oil Bhavan on Janpath. It is there that I found Susmit Bose’s Long Playing Vinyl Record ‘Train to Calcutta’. Susmit Bose was going to be with me for the next thirty years. I have carried his LP wherever I went. This is one of my most treasured items.

Delhi of the seventies was different. Poetry and Music were emerging in an aroma of genuine Indianess. JS ‘The magazine that thinks young ‘ edited by the maverick Desmond Doig in the seventies was organising music concerts in Kolkata and bringing beat groups from Shillong, Kohima, Darjeeling, Bombay and New Dehi. Indo English Poetry had already taken roots in New Delhi. Reciting poetry near the tea shop next to Godavari at Jawaharlal Nehru University was a regular feature. Evenings and Poetry merged together in unforgettable nights. I feel proud to have been a part of that period.

Susmit Bose came as a sudden storm with simple lyrics that got embedded in permanency.He wrote on his album,

‘These songs convey my sentiments and interpretations of situations around me. I am not trying to preach in my songs but want to share my feelings with you. Having experimented in serious forms in folk music, there are two songs in this album which are the results of this experiment. They are both beautiful songs. The ‘Baul’ ( the folk song of Bengal) written by Kazi Nazrul Islam has had a great impact on me. Viva La Quinte Brigada is a song of the Spanish civil War and has been recorded before by someone whom I regard with great respect - Pete Seeger. I take this opportunity to thank all who helped me to make this dream of recording come true especially Bob Dylan who inspired me a great deal in my music.’

My favourite has always been his song whose lyrics go like this –

I wrote this song

On a Sunday morn

On a train to Calcutta bound

Of a boy who was travelling all alone

The sun went up and all was well

Till the man in the uniform

Was checking all the tickets

And was smiling

A sudden frown came on his face

As he saw the boy around…..

Susmit Bose is now known as an Urban Folk Balladeer. He sings about social issues in English to Indian audiences. His latest song on Binayak Sen, a doctor imprisoned in Chattisgarh created as much furore as my poem on him. A talented filmmaker, he’s produced several successful television shows for Doordarshan, Surabhi, a show on Indian culture being amongst the best-known. He has also released documentary films like Akha Teej on child marriage; A Revival on traditional medicine, For Who; Man Of Heart on the bauls, for IGNCA (Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts). He also arranged the song Hum Honge Kamyab with Anil Biswas and has led the All India Radio Choir. He’s performed in international folk music concerts from Cuba to Berlin, and has sung with folk music legends like Pete Seeger in the US and Canada. He has also performed with Paul Horn, an internationally acclaimed flautist, for a US/UK project on world music.

How do you speak of freedom?

When your thoughts are so in chains

How do you see the rainbow?

Without the rain(Certain Thoughts, Public Issue, 2005)

Whenever I travel to India, I make it a point to visit the café and ask my friend about Susmit. All of us have grown old and today on my birthday I put his vinyl disc on the player and listen to his immortal songs. What a better way to celebrate a birthday by listening to a giant of Indo-English Music. I remember I had penned a few lines in 1979 –

Connaught Place Blues

We had once walked around Connaught place for hours
Trying to solve a puzzle
Of a day in its stately columns
Holding aloft the far shores
Of an unfamiliar sky
Morning of jigsaw pieces in The Book Worm or
Keventers
Mind shopping at the pavement
For love poems
Rushing to embrace
Colors, lips
At a backthought corridor in
Dhoomimal Gallery
Our legs ached
Going round and round
Just trying to be somewhere
Until the one legged man in Dass Studios
Appeared from nowhere
As Sushmit Bose’s voice from the gramophone
Bent down to pick us
Loving was an afternoon
In a season that finally fell in its
Rightful place.

Valentine Day's Song - Let Them Sleep

Jo — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 13:41:31 EST

I've never celebrated a Valentine's Day in my life as I am personally against the idea of such days - be it Valentine's Day, Mother's Day or Father's Day. I mean, you just don't have to wait for a particular day in the year to take your girlfriend/wife out for a dinner, or give her a surprise gift or a bunch of flowers. But that's just me and I don't go around enforcing what I like or dislike upon others. Now with the folks like Sri Ram Sene coming up in arms against Valentine's Day, accusing it as a "Christian festival" (is there any parish celebrating the festival of St: Valentine in India?), "against the culture" and stuff like that, I cannot just sit and say Aye to these goons.

So here is a song dedicated especially to Pramod Mutalik, the chief of Sri Ram Sene. This song is a poem written by the 13th century Persian poet Rumi. I chose Rumi's poem titled "Those who don't feel this Love" as I thought it would be apt for the situation. I particularly liked the lines "those who don't want to change, let them sleep".

Credits:

Lyrics based on a poem by Rumi
Song composed, orchestrated and sung by: Joseph Thomas (Jo)
(Orchestrated with Music Shake)

Those who don't feel this Love
By Rumi

Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change

let them sleep.

This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
If you want to improve your mind that way

sleep on.

I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.

If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words around you
and sleep

Music Review: Trickbaby's Chor Bazaar

Aspi — Mon, 9 Feb 2009 00:29:24 EST

Trickbaby are an Asian fusion band who are precisely two albums old. Their first - Hanging Around - a delectable collection of amped down fusion of Punjabi and low key British house beats came out in 2004.

It was a year later that they broke big for fans in India when Rohan Sippy invited them to reboot "Sabse Bada Rupaiiya" for his movie Bluffmaster. In a CD full of highlights composed by Vishal and Shekhar, Trickbaby's composition was a standout. A few of their songs also made it into the background score - "Neelaa" (which samples Silsila's "Sar Se Sarke"), "Indi Yarn" and "Nine Parts of Desire".

One more year went by and Trickbaby did more Bollywood - composing the title track to the Fardeen-Vivek Oberoi-Esha Deol-Amrita Rao starrer "Pyare Mohan".

Now, two years later, Trickbaby have their sophomore CD - Chor Bazaar - out. And it's got its own India release on the Saregama label.

What exactly is Chor Bazaar like? It's a signature Trickbaby album, which means it's full of synth beats, seductive vocals and Indian percussion via dhols, tablas and drums. There are some clean guitar riffs - there is only selective feedback laden picking on a couple of songs to fill out the beat. The whole thing is very melodious - each song has multiple hooks that prompt sing alongs.

On "Fighter" which opens the CD, Saira talks about getting into arguments without intending to. She narrates an addiction to auctions just because she wants to win the final bid. As in all songs, she drains the emotion of the song in favor of sexy, breathless vocals. And combined with Steve Ager's smooth production - it sets the tone for the rest of the material to come.

There are twelve tracks on Chor Bazaar - two are remixes: Nine Part of Desire gets the cowboy guitar treatment and Neelaa has some minor tweaks. The other nine tracks are new songs. And while I'll let you discover the CD for yourself, there are a few worth highlighting.

On the title track, Trickbaby invite Gogol Bordello's Eugene Hutz (vocals), Sergey Ryabtzev (Violin), and Yuri Lemeshev (Accordian) to create a zany, Russian flavored tribute to India's one of a kind, dubious-goods markets. It's a bold move - perhaps even a confounding one. But it works really well because it not only captures the fervor of a chor bazaar but the Russian lyrics reflect the phoren-maal nature of the items usually found on sale.

There are plenty of genuine fusion tracks as well. Trickbaby use a clap driven percussion to power "Babu" which is sung in Hindi. "Broken Dreams" is in English and Punjabi and uses faded Bollywood influenced backup vocals.

Chor Bazaar is so groovy its well worth the wait. But next time, guys, please don't take so long between CDs.

S is for Sitar and Surbahar

Ra — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 12:16:35 EST

This post is related to T is for Tanpura not Sitar; it's Good to Know the Difference, so it may help to start from there. On the previous post there was a comment from a reader whose mother is a Vainika, i.e. a Veena player, saying that some people she knew thought it was cool not to know the difference between these instruments. One hopes the coolness quotient of Indian music will improve over time.

As always, there is no need to watch the videos to their full length or at all, though it might help to watch a classical clip to familiarise yourself with the sound and to distinguish the sound of the Sitar from that of the Tanpura.

Sitar:
A Sitar is a more complicated instrument than the Tanpura: it is used to produce complex melodies and not just the tones of Sa and Pa (though it has the strings to produce a drone) and will take longer to learn how to play (though some would argue that learning how to tune the Tanpura is a lifelong process!). The Tanpura is a unique instrument in the function that it performs; there are no Tanpura concerts, though it may be used for meditation. But Sitar concerts, where the Sitar features as a solo instrument are common. The Sitar features largely in Hindustani music concerts, i.e. concerts performed in the North Indian style of classical music. It is also played in Pakistan and Bangladesh.

The word "sitar" has Persian origins. There is some dispute about the origins of the Sitar, but there seems to be some consensus that it is an Indo-Persian instrument. To read more on it's history see this link. It's origins are attributed both to the Veena of India and the lutes of Western Asia.

The Sitar is used a lot in Hindi film music and has been used by pop bands like the Beatles and by the heavy metal group Metallica. It would be fair to say that the Sitar is the most well-know Indian instrument in the West. Many people are able to recognise the sound of the Sitar, even if they confuse it's appearance with that of the Tanpura.

Listen out for the Sitar right at the beginning of the Metallica song Wherever I May Roam:

And for a calmer sound, let the Beatles step in. Their first song that tried to incorporate Indian music was Love You To. People are divided on whether they like the sound:

Another Beatles' song where I think the Indian element sounds better and where the Sitar is used is Norwegian Wood:

Though a Sitar may look like a Tanpura, it has movable frets on the fingerboard (see picture below), whereas a Tanpura doesn't have any frets at all, and many more strings than a Tanpura (approximately 21-23), of which usually six or seven are playable. Remember that Tanpuras usually have four (or sometimes five) strings. Some of the strings of the Sitar provide the sound of the drone, and quite a few are sympathetic strings, that create resonance. The gharana, or school of Hindustani music the Sitarist belongs to, determines the number of strings and frets used.

The Sitar often has two gourds at either end (though not always), whereas a Tanpura ALWAYS has only one. It also has many tuning pegs sticking out of the side (known as kunti) but the Tanpura has them only on the top.

Here is a picture of a type of Sitar:

Picture Credit: kksongs.com

Here is a video of Sitar Maestro Ustad Shahid Parvez playing the sitar. His sitar has only one gourd. Contrast this video to that of Pandit Ravi Shankar and Anoushka Shankar that follows-they play sitars with two gourds. You can see Tanpuris (small Tanpuras that are used to accompany instruments) in the background in both videos.

Here is a video of Pandit Ravi Shankar and his daughter Anoushka playing the sitar.

Sitars became poular in the West thanks to Pandit Ravi Shankar and his famous pupils the Beatles, particularly George Harrison. Here is a video of Panditji teaching George Harrison!

The Sitar is held differently to a Tanpura, i.e. across the chest, and played differently. Both hands are used to play the Sitar (for the Tanpura you need only one hand) and each hand is used differently. One hand plucks ( a plectrum is worn on the index finger) and the other hand slides or fingers the strings. The Sitar can initially be cruel on the fingers and demand blood, whereas the Tanpura strings are much simpler to play!

If you go for a sitar concert, you will often see the musician tuning the Sitar between pieces. The tuning of the Sitar is too complicated to get into here, suffice to say, this also depends on the gharana and the musician.

I would like to end the section on the Sitar with a video of the late great Pandit Nikhil Bannerjee, my personal favourite sitar player. Reluctant to be in the limelight, and completely devoted to his music, he received the honours due to him rather late in the day. Exquisite playing of the highest order.

Surbahar:
Another instrument that I will briefly mention here is the Surbahar (and the legendary player associated with it). The Surbahar is a close relative of the Sitar but is significantly larger, and has a lower, deeper, more bass sound. It is rarer than the Sitar these days and not as many people play it. It is/was sometimes played as a prelude to the Sitar or the Veena and some Sitar and Veena players do play it in addition to the Sitar or Veena, though they may employ different styles both musically and in the technique of using their fingers.

Here is Beenkar (i.e. "Veena player") Suvir Misra playing the Surbahar in the Dhrupad style (he is left-handed). Misra uses three fingers to pluck the strings (quite a feat).

One of the foremost exponents of the Surbahar is the famously reclusive Vidushi Annapurna Devi, daughter of Ustad Allauddin Khan.

Picture credit: india.tilos.hu

Allauddin Khan initially refused to teach Annapurna Devi music, because his other daughter's mother-in-law burned her Tanpura. Another daughter had died an early death. Ultimately, he had to teach Annapurna Devi, when confronted with her genius (he came home one day to find her teaching her brother the renowned Sarod player Ali Akbar Khan and his other student who went on to make waves, Ravi Shankar). Today, she teaches a few very select pupils (though not necessarily Surbahar) and generally refuses to meet anyone. I haven't put the videos with the soundtrack of her playing here, because the recordings aren't of very good quality. Some other Surbahar greats are Ustad Imrat Khan, the late Pandit Chandrashekhar Naringrekar and Pandit Pushparaj Koshti. Other, younger exponents include Shubha Sankaran and Rajeev Janardan

Here is a very sweet video of a dad playing Surbahar to his baby. Looks like she loves it! I'm mesmerised by the way she responds to the music.

If anyone has any questions, please leave them in the comments section, I will be happy answer to them or to point you to more qualified sources.

T is for Tanpura not Sitar; it's Good to Know the Difference

Ra — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 13:56:25 EST

Today I'm going to write about Tanpuras (or Tamburas), and in subsequent posts, about Sitars and Veenas because these instruments are often confused with each other. In my highly prejudiced opinion, every Indian who is able, i.e. has access to this knowledge, should know the difference between these instruments. The Tanpura is the backbone of Indian music, Sitars have brought it fame, and the Veena is one of the most ancient instruments in the world. After all we can recognize pianos, and will probably be able to tell that an organ is not a piano, though it may look similar and though we may not be able to name it.

I know that for those not interested in music this may be boring. On the other hand it is likely to be boring even for those who are interested in music, because this is very basic. But I hope those who are not interested, or vaguely interested, do read this post and forgive me for being a little obsessive about wanting us to at least recognize the different instruments if not to hear them. There may be concepts that are difficult to understand, if you want, you can explore them further by clicking on the hyperlinks, or just ignore them for the time being and simply get used to what the instruments look like and sound like so you can tell the difference. There are many video clips (hurrah for youtube!) and it's not necessary to play them for their full length or to play them at all-they are for the purposes of illustration only.

It's probably not your fault if you don't know the difference between these instruments-all three look similar, they have many variations (particularly Veenas), and Indian classical music has often been inaccessible to various groups of people; Gender, caste, social status, language, religion, class and education have all acted in complicated ways to exclude people from learning it or knowing about it. Or it may simply be that one just doesn't know about it, so let me evangelise (imperfectly).

Tanpura or Tambura:

All Indian classical vocalists, of the well-known styles of Indian classical music i.e. the North Indian style of Hindustani music (further subdivided into the quite distinct Dhrupad and Khayal styles) and the South Indian Carnatic style of music are accompanied by a Tanpura or Tambura (there are other less well-known forms of Indian art music that I shall not refer to here). The instrument is called Tanpura in the North and Tambura in the South. Instrumentalists are accompanied by Tanpuras too, though they often use a smaller version called a tanpuri or tamburi.

There are "male" and "female" Tanpuras-female ones are smaller and they can be tuned to suit male and female voices respectively.

Here is a picture of a North Indian Tanpura:

Picture credit: binaswar.com

And here is a picture of a South Indian Tambura:

Picture credit: chandrakantha.com

Though they might look big and heavy, they are actually quite light and quite fragile.

The North (Miraj) and South Indian (Tanjore) versions are constructed slightly differently and produce a slightly different sound though they perform the same function, that is to provide a "drone" to help the musician sing in pitch (sruti). Maintaining sruti, or singing in pitch is very important and therefore the Tanpura is absolutely essential in Indian classical music. Essentially, the Tanpura sings a recurring melody.

Everyone has a natural pitch. When learning Indian classical music, one chooses one's "Sa," called adhara shadja, the basic tonic note-every other note is sung relative to this note. Thus maintaining the basic "Sa," the fixed reference point is very important, and that is what the Tanpura does. (this is different to Western music).

Tanpuras usually have four or five strings. The first string is tuned to Pa (the natural fifth from the adhara shadja), the two middle ones are tuned to the higher Sa and the last, which is the bass string, to the tonic, Sa, an octave lower. The tuning of the first string may change, depending on the raga/ragam (e.g. there may be a raga/ragam without Pa) or an extra string that plays the seventh, i.e. Ni, is added, but we will not get into that here.

Nowadays one gets electronic sruti boxes and electronic tamburas that are much easier to carry around, that look like small radios. Though these are very good and have reached high standards, some people (including yours truly) feel that the traditional Tanpuras and Tamburas provide a richer sound and should not be done away with. Learning to tune a Tanpura is also considered essential in training one's ear. For a technical view on why traditional Tanpuras sound better see this article.

Here is a link to a podcast by the Carnatic musician Vidya Subramaninan and Devesh Satyavolu that explains, very simply, the functions of the shruti box, the electronic tambura and the traditional Tambura. Vidya sings out the notes of the Tambura-this will help in understanding what's been said above about how it is tuned.

Here is a video where you can see how Tanpuras are played and hear the rich sound of well tuned (North Indian) Tanpuras clearly. The singer is Ustad H. Sayeeduddin Dagar who sings in the Dhrupad style. He starts off here with a Sanskrit chant:

Here is a video of the Khayal singer Ashwini Bhide Deshpande, singing a bhajan. I've chosen this video because it has clear close-ups of her fingers on the Tanpura strings:

And finally, here is a link to a video of a South Indian Tambura being played, that I couldn't embed here.

A Tanpura is usually held straight up in front of the singer or tanpura accompanist (people can tend to lean it towards their bodies or put it in their laps) or flat down on the floor, whereas a Sitar is usually held diagonally across the body. More on the sitar in the next post.

Cape Malay Music

Amitabh Mitra — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 08:47:34 EST

Sanjay Dutt, the popular Bollywood actor was recently in Cape Town for a shooting sequence of Chatursingh Four Star. Many Indian movies have been made with Cape Locations as a part of the story but none of the Directors have ever thought of using the unique Cape Malay Music and using it in playback singing. I was in Cape Town at a Writer’s Meet and accidentally encountered this fascinating ‘out of this world’ music which many people term it as Cape Jazz and Ghoema music.

The Cape Malays had a big influence on the genres known as Cape Ghoema and Cape Jazz. This cultural group first arrived on the Cape shores around the end of the 17th century mainly from Malaysia, courtesy of their then English and Dutch slavemasters.

Wikipedia explains Cape Malay music as a speciality that is original to this cultural group. An interesting secular folk song type, of Dutch origin, is termed the 'nederlandslied'. The language and musical style of this genre reflects the history of South African slavery; it is often described and perceived as 'sad' and 'emotional' in content and context. The nederlandslied shows the influence of the Arabesque (ornamented) style of singing. This style is unique in South Africa, Africa and probably in the world. Cape Malay music has been of great interest to academics, historians, musicologists, writers and even politicians. The well-known annual Cape Town Minstrel or Carnival Street festival is a deep-rooted Cape Malay cultural event; it incorporates the Cape Malay comic song or 'moppie' (often also referred to as 'ghoema' songs). The barrel-shaped drum, called the 'ghoema', is also closely associated with Cape Malay music.

It is said that in 1834 at the time of their liberation, small groups of slaves descended into the streets of Cape Town, singing songs to celebrate their freedom. This tradition persists today during the "negro" carnival (Coon carnival), which is held there each New Year.

The "Malay" musical culture has also spread through the townships in the wake of the forced movements of black and half-caste populations towards the Cape Flats - the sandy plain surrounding the Cape. The tradition of "Cape Malay" choirs, and with it, a musical culture which goes back to the age of slavery, still exists today in the old "Coloured" townships, and in certain areas (half-caste) of the Cape such as Bo-Kaap.

It is interesting to know that over the years the Cape Malay Music has blended with Cape Muslim music or South African Islamic music. Desmond Desai an independent researcher and an authority on Southern African Islamic music has done a doctoral work on Ratiep a self mutilating spiritual art form as practised by South African Muslims.On December 16, 2006 one of the stalwarts of Cape Town Ghoema Music, Taliep Petersen, was brutally killed at his home in Athlone. He studied Classical Guitar at the Fitznell School of Music in England and wrote the popular revue called Carnival a la District Six based on New Year Celebrations in Cape Town. He remains an icon of Cape Malay music.

Mac Hendricks is a well known face of the Cape Ghoema music tradition. In a You Tube interview he says that Cape Malay music is a mixture of Indian music, indigenous music of Khoisan, San, Griekwa, Malaysian, Indonesian and the English people. He adds. ‘All the blood of the world is mixed in Cape Town’

I am at the V&A Waterfront. There is music in the air. I follow the strains and find myself in a group of avid listeners under a tree. I am confronted with the best of Cape Malay music. Mr. Pieterson is a wizened old man playing the sax accompanied by his friends on base guitar and mandolin. We are spell bound as the music flows in and takes roots. Suddenly an elderly lady starts dancing, Mr. Pieterson smiles and plays for her. I wanted to dance too. I wish to go back again if only to listen to Cape Malay music.

The next day, my friend Ismail Robinson and his wife drove me back to the Cape Town airport. On the way, he says ‘Look Dr. Mitra towards your left, there is Athlone in Cape Flats home to the Cape Malays. We stay there.’ It is said that there is one thing that is in abundance in Athlone is the willingness of people to help each other. It was previously known as West London and later named after Earl of Athlone, Governor General in South Africa in Nineteen Thirties.I think of a love story between a beautiful Cape Malay girl and an Indian boy which might entice a Bollywood producer to make a movie in the Cape Flats. Obviously the startling colours of Cape Malay music would feature most prominently in such a film.

Reference – Wikipedia

-You Tube

Poessay: Sea of Affliction and Omni Vincit Amor

temporal — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 08:27:49 EDT

There is an antediluvian connection between starlit nights and lovers. The moon's substantial and simultaneously tenuous links with the tides - of love and lovers - is intriguing and bewildering.

The Sea of Affliction is nurtured by rivers, rivulets and streams of zeal, worship, affection, amour, infatuation, passion, and rapture . Yarns narrated by storytellers of yore - Shirin-Farhad, the dark Laila and her mad Majnoon, Sassi-Pannu, Heer-Ranjha, Romeo and Juliet (enters the Raj) - move and tantalize lovers and listeners alike.

The warmth of lovers is unaffected by the heat of day. The stealth of night mixes well with the scorch and sizzle of mind and sanguine and sultry emotions of instincts.

Every inadvertent touch, a brush, a kiss, a glance is euphoric, delirious, ecstatic, devouring, entrancing, rapturous, and transporting - transporting them to the distant stars.

These encounters, few and far in between, retain most of their luster and glow for long. The reverse is obvious - they lose their sheen with frequency. Ask Mark Twain.

Thoughts wander over consummation...or the edification of lack of it.

The tragic and unconsummated aspects of love have been perhaps unconsciously and unduly glorified in folklore and literature. The lovers are consumed by their passion - and subsumed by the storytellers. They succumb to fate, living in death.

omnia vincit amor

the black hole
dissipating and drawing in chaos
with the furious fervour of passion

the black hole
exploding and imploding
a supernova of 360 degree
suctorial frenzy, confusion and
passionate mayhem
nurturing impassioned death

pining
         pinning
                    heaving
                                sliding
                                         then
a hiatus to change demeanor
and resume the whirling
- of implosions and explosions
consuming and subsuming
in the once black hole of life
                                   now death
nature's anti-climactic
antediluvian renderings
to be endlessly repeated
when the tides of venus charge

Farewell, Faraz

PH — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 12:57:26 EDT

Ahmed Faraz succumbed to kidney failure on August 25th in Islamabad. My first Urdu book ever was his "Be Aawaaz Galii KuuchoN meN" (In Voiceless Lanes and Quarters). But that's just one of those trivia you think of and smile wistfully when you learn of the passing of a writer you've admired.

Faraz was admired by many. Along with Faiz and Parveen Shakir (whom he graciously referred to as the most read poet after Faiz in Pakistan), he formed the holy trinity of Urdu poetry in Pakistan. Much like a Hindu god, he had many titles bestowed on him - progressive, communist, traitor, rebel, non-conformist and what not. Both India and Pakistan heaped their highest literary awards on him. But labels never do justice to an artist. So we may call him a Pakistani but he has said,

ab kis ke geet sunaate ho, woh mulk ke jo taqsiim huwaa

What nation do you sing of now, the one that broke?

With Akhtar Shirani, he penned the most eloquent paean to the country he left behind, "O des se aane waale bataa" (Tell me, o visitor from my country).

Despite the Persian slant in its diction, Faraz's poetry had an earthy, colloquial quality about it. He could be scathing when, for instance, speaking of the hypocrisy of the religious. Here he notes how after the pious return from Mecca, they're back to their deceiving ways.

bazm-e-hareefaaN phir sajtii hai

kizb-o-riyaa kii daf bajtii hai

the wily craftsmen meet again

and drums of falsehood beat again

And here's an unflinching introspection:

merii bastii se pare bhii mere dushman hoNge
par yahaaN kab koii aGhyaar kaa lashkar utraa
aashnaa haath hii aksar merii jaanib lapke
mere siine meN meraa apnaa hi Khanjar utraa

I may have foes outside, indeed

But no army besieged us from without

Familiar hands sought to kill me

My own blade tears my breast, no doubt

Of course these laments against the hypocrisy of the pious and self destructive politics are particularly relevant to Pakistan, but good poetry is never prisoner to its context.

Faraz often displayed a deft satirical genius. In a single sher, perhaps my personal favorite, he could pull the rug from under all civilization:

raftah raftah yeh hii zindaaN meN badal jaate haiN

phir kisii shah'r kii buniyaad na Daalii jaaye

eventually, they become prisons

Lets never build cities again

His 'Kaneez' is the only Urdu poem I know which speaks of the sexual abuse of servant-women by the feudal gentry. And, in keeping with the golden rule of speaking for the oppressed, the poem comes from the victim's point of view; the narrator, the kaneez, is pleading to a drunken master at her doorstep to leave.

Faraaz wasn't content with lament and demanded that we act.

shikwah-e-zulmat-eshab se to kahiiN behtar thaa

apne hisseh kii koii sham'a jalaate jaate

Rather than complain of the night's darkness

Wish you'd've lit your share of lamps

The beloved in his poems was often the country he lost to the Partition - famously in ranjish hii sahiih - but he could be playful and optimistic about this troubled romance of nations.

awwal awwal kii dostii hai abhii

ik Ghazal hai k ho rahii hai abhii

Its a new and budding romance.

A Ghazal being formed, per chance

Note the clever use of "Ghazal" in its traditional sense, as a conversation between lovers.

It's a cliche, but it’s true: the passing of Faraz is the passing of an era. Here's a poet who has seen his country go from Jinnah to Musharraf via Zia, and on every occasion spoken against the injustice and questioned the prevailing absurdity of the day. He will be missed, no doubt, but the huge body of work he leaves behind is fertile ground for more of his ilk.

dil giraftah hii sahiih, bazm sajaa lii jaaye

yaad-e-jaanaaN se koii shaam na Khalii jaaye

Meet and sing, O poets! sad though the heart may be

No evening should pass without her memory

***

Here is a link to a poem Muhasara in Urdu

One Last Song

smallsquirrel — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 00:29:44 EDT

I am sorry Mary.

I think it's been fifteen years. Maybe more. Last we spoke I was standing in my closet getting ready for my very first day of graduate school. We had not spoken in years before that. You called to ask me if I could get you out of rehab. You swore they were drugging you there. There must be something in those vitamin pills.

It was your fifth DUI. I could not help you. I actually did not really even want to.

I remember as a child you were always my favorite. When I was that young I did not see that you were skin and bones. I did not notice the drinking. I did not know about "alternative lifestyles." I liked that you could play the guitar. I loved when you sang. You played games with me. That was all I needed.

I remember the July you came to visit me. I was so excited to see you. It had been a couple years since I had seen you, and I was bored of my summer reading and working on my tan. I told all my friends how amazing you were. You sang back-up for famous people. You were witty and sarcastic, the backbone of admiration for most 13 year-olds.

I was horrified when you stepped out of the car. You were like something from those frightening concentration camp liberation movies. The clothes looked like they were mocking you, all angles and jutting bones. Your hair was wiry and you didn't look cool to me any more, you looked like a cartoon. I could not even meet your gaze. I was embarrassed by your enthusiasm to jump back into our friendship. I wanted to run away.

I remember the year you gave me my first (and only) acoustic guitar. You tricked me. All I wanted was that Yamaha and you hid it away until the last minute. I had time to sing you only one song that day. I pretended that I had written it, but really it was by the Golden Palominos. I do not know why I lied. I wanted you to be proud of me, but you would have been anyway, even without the song. I still felt guilty for hating your sicknesses.

You looked no better at Nonna's funeral, but since I was in college then, I was a bit more empathetic. I knew that you were drinking 4 beers to my every one. I knew I would never see you eat a thing that whole weekend, a near impossibility at an Italian funeral. But when we sang together, I saw you again like I did when I was a child.

I don't think I ever saw you again after that. Just the one phone call, and I was back to being an embarrassed teen. Why did you call me that day? What made you think I could help you? Why did you never trust me with your real secrets?

My husband gave me the message today that you had died. So I am sorry Mary. I will not be at your funeral. But I suppose later I can sing you one last song. This time it will be my own.

Happy Independence Day - Musical Montages

Ritu Chandra — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 05:31:36 EDT

Happy Independence Day Folks!

(I know it is a little late, but here in the US we only celebrate on weekends, so no apologies)

I would like to celebrate the 61st 'Happy Birthday' of our nation by revisiting some musical memories from my growing up years. In the late eighties and early nineties DD had commissioned a series of 'Spirit of the nation' type montages. The most memorable amongst those was 'Mile Sur Mera Tumhara' that showcased the cultural diversity of the country through the prism of the folk and classical diversity of each region. This was Doordarshan and Lok Sewa Sanchar Parishad in it's last burst of glory, (before India began its journey towards globalization and DD towards fossilization).

For those of us who grew up in this era, these montages are unforgettable. Remember trying to figure out the exact line 'chain taras te nain tars te' (the Kashmiri portion of the song), or marveling the stunning locales of Kerela, or trying to keep up with the various languages in which Mile sur mera tumhara is sung, or getting goose pimples on seeing the final image of Lata Mangeshkar, the ultimate tribute to popular sur in our country fuse into the frame. My introduction to Bhimsen Joshi was through this montage. In those days I barely understood anything of what he sang, yet I loved to watch him, for the faraway look in his eyes, and the cute manner in which he would contort his face and hands as he sang.

I don't think anything has been able to capture the spirit of India's beauty, diversity and unity as imaginatively as Mile Sur Mera Tumhara did.

The other montage that ran in those days and I would specially like to showcase is the very unusual tribute to the spirit of the country through Raag Des. That was a collection of the who's who in the firament of Indian classical arts all performing on the Des raag. While Mile Sur Mera Tumhara has obvious appeal, this montage is a quiet charmer. Raag Des is a sweet and distinctive raag, easy on the ears, extremely malleable and exudes the fragrance of fresh sprinkles on parched earth. The essence of the raag finds it's way into songs of the every region in the country. The whole idea to integrate the country through the Des raag was a novel one. It is fascinating because the des raag probably existed before India was a nation, before we needed symbols and slogans to unite, yet even in those days there were binders in form of cultural roots and who would think amongst the innumerable raags that Hindustani and Carnatic classical music offer, it would be raag Des that would be the chosen binder. It is also the raag in which our national song 'Vande Mataram' is tuned.

Given the galaxy of classical luminaries that make an appearance in this piece, in another fifty years it will be worth it's microseconds in gold. Ravi Shankar's sitar piece particularly had left a lasting impression in the early days, when I heard it again after many years, it was even better than I remembered. I think it would have been appropriate to have had his appearance as the climactic piece. It is also fascinating to see Kavita Krishnamurthy's voice as the common thread in an effort that is essentially classical. It is a great way to gently coax the average listener into the world of classical music. It was only during the old DD stronghold that promoted folk and classical music with missionary zeal that something like this was possible. In today's 'bollywoodized' times it is next to impossible.

While we are on the topic of montages, it would be worthwhile to visit two contemporary efforts by AR Rahman - Vande Mataram and Jana Gana Mana , both conceived and presented by Bharatbala.

Watching the Jana Gana Mana video is like revisiting your ancestral town after twenty years. The same faces, but aged and tired. The same Bhimsen Joshi, the same Hariprasad Chaurasia, the same Lata Mangeshkar, but with many more lines creasing their faces. Some cherished old faces missing, notably Pandit Ravi Shankar, Ustad Allahrakha and Ustad Zakir Hussien and many new additions like Bhupen Hazarika, Hariharan, and the most pleasant surprise - Asha Bhosle. Interestingly Asha Bhosle was completely missing from all the videos of the earlier era, a sad reflection on how late in life this great singer actually got her due. Finally the nation sees the legendary Mangeshkar sisters singing together on the same platform in the same frame. And the biggest surprise, they even pause for a microsecond and smile, yes smile at each other! (A historic occasion given all those rumours over the decades that sibling rivalry prompted the sisters to sing all duets looking in opposite directions).

The new age montages highlight the sharp difference in the eras. These videos are shot like epics. They are marked by sweeping locales, jazzy camera angles, glossy finish and flamboyant, larger than life orchestration of all the elements. Quite typical of our times. Yet despite the grandeur, they somehow seem to be missing something somewhere. They are missing the feel of 'real' India that the old montages had to offer. In the videos of yore, the locales were lush and real. The prosperous fields of Punjab, the stunning Taj Mahal, the boatman on the Hooghly, the Calcutta metro, the Dal Lake these were the visual elements that made us intimate with the living and breathing India. The moonscape of Ladakh in the Jana Gana Mana video on the other hand is impersonal and forbidding. It has a stark beauty, without doubt, but that is not a representative of 'dravid, utkal, banga' that our national anthem alludes to. The visual montages used in Vande Mataram look more out of central Asia than they do out of India. The video just does not get 'it', in my opinion.

Ofcourse, the disclaimer is that I am an old fogey when it comes to aesthetics and I tend to automatically put myself in reverse gear. Older an effort the better it is. However, I must admit, that when Lata Mangeshkar starts to sing Jana Gana Mana my hair stand on the end. I am extremely thankful to YouTube and it's denizens for uploading these valuable videos and giving me a chance to revisit cherished childhood memories again. I leave you with the videos and I hope you will enjoy them as much as I did.

Jai Bharat!