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Archive for the ‘Pakistan’ Category

Cross-border couples and their visa travails ~Indo-Pak Visa Part 1


Published in Aman ki Asha blog The News/Jang Group on July 27, 2011

“A marriage license doesn’t come with a job description or a set of instructions. There is definitely some ‘assembly’ required. In fact, putting together a marriage can be likened to assembling an airplane in flight” – Patricia Love

Every marriage needs a lot of reassembling in social, psychological and emotional terms. But when marriages take place across the Indo-Pak border they also involve a lot of political reassembling.

Indo-Pak marriages are different from other cross-border marriages – such unions between people from these two neighbouring countries are far tougher and more challenging than marriages across oceans between people with vast cultural differences. The distance between India and Pakistan does not entail crossing oceans or even cultures but one has to cross huge mountains of hurdles in terms of legal and bureaucratic formalities.

With the pendulous political love-hate relationship that exists between the two countries, marrying and staying happily married across the border (‘pyar border paar’) is no small feat. It takes a tough mind and resilient heart to brave the challenges.

There are personal challenges involved in every marriage. But the additional challenges in Indo-Pak marriages include taking certain decisions which may be painful. As a patriotic and a proud Indian, it was hard for me to surrender my Indian passport and apply for a Pakistani. Not that I had any grudges against the latter, but to give up your national identity is an experience you have to live, to know how it feels.

You might ask why would an educated woman change her nationality? The answer is simple. No one coerced me. I did it for the desire to have a peaceful family life and for the sake of our children (who were to arrive later).

My British, Canadian and Filipino friends married to Pakistanis live without any problems in Pakistan, using their original passports. But for an Indian this is not possible.
I did quite a bit of homework before taking this life-changing decision. I knew of instances where people in this situation had retained their nationalities, leading to many practical and political challenges. Most of them advised me to swallow this bitter pill and make the change, but finally, it was entirely my own decision.

In Pakistan, the ID cards of both parents are required to obtain documents for children like B-form, passport, and ID card. A mother with an Indian passport would mean inviting trouble, with more errands from office to office, or one section officer to another, to get ‘no objection certificates’ or NOCs.

Obtaining a visa to visit family across the border is any case a Herculean task if you don’t have connections in the high offices. And for a family like ours living in a third country I would, if I had maintained my Indian nationality, have to go through the gruelling process of obtaining a Pakistani visa each time we were to visit Pakistan. By giving up my nationality and becoming a Pakistani, I thought at least we have to struggle for the visa on one side only, when my children and husband want to visit India.

Unfortunately, my having been a born Indian, lived there for 23 years, and having parents still living there, does not mean that my husband and children will be given any extra consideration when they apply for an Indian visa. I know this is also the case for Pakistani women who are married and live in India. The visa policies work on a reciprocal basis.

Our visa troubles are not a once in a while exercise, but an annual struggle. The struggle which I have been undertaking for the past twenty years, almost each year, to visit my ageing parents exactly the way any married woman aspires to visit her family. As the time nears for the visa application, I always shudder with the apprehension of “What if…”

Families like ours have no choice but to face this ordeal every time they want to visit ‘home’. Visas may be sometimes facilitated and expedited for artists going on a cultural exchange or for businessmen but the procedure, the requirements, the scrutiny, the hurdles are all exactly the same for people like us. We have to stand in the same queue as those applying for a visit visa for a conference or meeting (there is no ‘tourist’ visa between our two countries), to visit to meet distant relatives once or maybe twice in a lifetime.

Each time I stand in front of the visa submission window of the Consulate of the country where I was born, which I still love and own as I did then, I feel as if I am being punished for my audacious decision to marry across border. My counterparts across the border must be feeling the same, I am sure.

Once, I was exceptionally lucky: I obtained an Indian visa while sipping a cup of coffee in the office of the Consul General, when the Consulate was in Karachi. The CG turned out to be my father’s student. We followed the usual application procedure of course, but he expedited it. Then, as we left, a plainclothes official intercepted my husband and asked for our purpose of having visited the CG’s room. He said that our car’s plate number had been noted and that we must not repeat this again.

All told, in the 21 years of my marriage I have been lucky that despite the hurdles and the painful waiting times, I have not faced any serious disappointments in ultimately obtaining a visa for India.

The only time I faced a major setback was after the Kargil war, when tensions were so high that I could not visit my parents for three years, despite running from pillar to post, pulling various influential strings. Then, not even ‘high connections’ were willing to go out of their way to help me. However, for a vast majority of women from India married to Pakistanis, especially those living in Pakistan, it is by no means a smooth sailing.

Ilmana Fasih

The writer is an Indian gynaecologist and women’s health activist, married to a Pakistani. She blogs at https://thinkloud65.wordpress.com/

Category:

AmanKiAsha, India, Indo-Pak, Pakistan, Personal, Published, Social Issues, Women

Amir Khusrau, the maestro of Tarana.


This blog is just an attempt to familiarise the lovers of Amir Khurau to a form of singing, called Tarana, the fascinating  fast paced rendition often intended  to attain trance ( haal),   is attributed to be invented by him. Needless to say his other inventions being Qawwali, seventeen taals, tabla and sitar.

All I get is that Tarana  uses sargams and vocables like na, ta, re, da, ni, odani, tanom, yalali, yalalom shuffled in a fast pace coordinated  by rhythmic percussion from Dhol or Tabla.

A legend says that Amir Khusrau discovered this genre of music by default when   Khusrau at a performance of raga Kadambak by Gopal Naik,  allegedly,  remembered the music but not text. So he created the tarana through a merging of bols from the tabla, the sitar or the mridang.

Since I am absolutely bankrupt in classical music so I would just quote what Ustad Amir Khan Sahib,  a master of Tarana says:

“It is generally believed that Tarana is a composition of meaningless syllables followed sometimes by the bols (words coined to denote the various sounds of instruments) of the tabla and sometimes by Persian poetry. This view is not true. As a matter of fact at the time of the Amir, the texts of the songs used to be in the languages of South India, which were not easily understood by the people of the North. The court language was Persian, which was evidently the language of the contemporary intelligentsia. The Amir naturally thought of composing the texts of songs in the language understood by the intelligentsia. Thus the Tarana was born. The various words used are Dartanaa, Dar Tan Aa, Yala an abbreviation for Ya Allah. Yali for Ya Ali, Dar Aa etc., which when translated would mean:

Yala – Ya Allah

Yali – Ya Ali

O Dani : He knows

Tu Dani : You know.

Tom : I am yours, I belong to you
or   Main Tum Hun (I am you).

Na Dir Dani : You are the complete wisdom.

Dar – Bheetar, Aandar (inside)

Dara – Andar Aa (get in or come inside)

Dartan – Tanke Aandar (inside the body)

Tanan Dar Aa : Enter my body.

Tanandara – Tanke Aandar Aa (Come inside the body)

Nadirdani – Tu Sabse Adhik Janata Hai (You know more than anyone else)

Tandardani – Tanke Aandarka Jannewala (One who knows what is inside the body)

Another feature of Tarana as sung by many in India is the repetition of certain words at a great speed. The justification for this type is also not to be sought., It is not merely an exhibition of speed or virtuosity at pronouncing words, but the idea is that while in prayer a person goes into a trance, and that in that state of mind he just continues to repeat one word or one set of words.”

( source: http://caferisko.ca/ak/tarana.html)
Yar-e-man bia bia Tarana sung by Konkana Bannerjee.

Main melody:
Yar-e-man bia bia.
Dar Tan tadim,
Ta-nan Ta na dim, Tom Ta Na Na Na
Antara:
Ba labam raseeda jaanum
Fu bia ke zinda maanum
Pas azari ki man na maanum,
Ba cheh kar khahi amud.

which means:

O love, come soon, come at once.
Come and enter my body,
for I am yours, come
Antara:
My life hangs on my lips,
Come thou that I may live again
for if thou shall come when I am no more,
to what avail shall it be.

Also see:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarana
http://www.indiaheritage.org/perform/music/h-v-t.htm

Category:

Amir Kusro, Art, CULTURE, India, Indo-Pak, Instrumental Music, Music, Music Without Borders, Pakistan

Poems by Attiya Dawood


Picture by Abro Khuda Bux

Here’s a translation of some poems by a Sindhi feminist poet Attiya Dawood

A strange woman in the mirror

The strange woman in the mirror, what is she thinking?
I ask her: what is it? She avoids me.
I paint my lips red, she begins to sob.
When I look her in the eyes, she asks me questions
which are even more strange.
Home, husband, children….. I have all that makes up happiness
But I don’t know what she wants.

If Only I knew Nothing

The experienced mind understands everything.
If I keep all my thoughts with me
And put them under lock and key,
Clever eyes come to know everything.
I should put the glasses of ignorance on them.
My sensitive heart
I should refuse ever to consider
All the observations and experiences of the past
Inscribed on my mind
I should wipe it away.
My intelligence becomes a curse for me…
If only I knew nothing.
Holding your hand
I would have continued walking in a dream.
Whatever stories you told me
I would have listened on like a child.
Taking my mind as your kite
You could have given me any direction, any wind
And I would have obeyed.
My intelligence becomes a curse for me…
If only I knew nothing.

A bone-weary truth

Truth is the basis of my creation.
No matter how many times in the name of truth
My being was chopped and cut,
Each time like the amoebae,
Every piece of the portioned-off being
Has become a being by itself.
Whenever I was put on the scaffold in the name of truth
Each time I have taken a new birth,
But this dying and being born every minute
Has made me bone-weary.
I want you, my friend
To take away my being from the cross.
Come in front of me,
Whisper sweet nothings in my ears,
Turn the shackles of hypocrisy
into bangles for my hands,
Love me with such a crushing deceit
That my soul not be able to bear it
And free itself
From my tired being.

About the author:
Attiya Dawood is a voice from the goths and villages of rural Sindh. It is a voice of pain and harrowing anguish. As a rural Sindhi woman she finds deprivation everywhere: she faces oppression piled on oppression. As a woman, oppression of women by men, as a Third World woman, oppression and exploitation by the advanced capitalist countries. As a rural woman she is marginalised in favour of the voice of the first person singular – I, but they are not autobiographical the events written about are not necessarilly drawn from her own life. The poems may be considered a form of dramatic monologue in which she assumes the voice and persona of a suffering woman and articulates the anguish arising out of some concrete situation.
 English translations are by Asif Aslam

Source: Courtesy Abro Khuda Bux
http://attiyadawood.com/

Category:

Art, Indo-Pak, Pakistan, Peace, Poetry, Women

A lifetime encounter with Sain Zahoor ~Part 2


Contd..from Part 1

I repeat, these two days were like a trip to the world of Bulleh Shah, his life and philosophy in the company of Sain Zahoor.

Having been over awed by his deep mystical eyes, I had to gather some courage to ask him all the valid and invalid questions I had in my mind.

For most of the questions I pounced at him, he bounced the answers back with verses from Bulleh Shah’s poetry .

I began with an inquiry about the details of how his life began as a devotee, and he remarked that it was destined. He had a great passion for singing sufi songs from a young age, despite the opposition from his peasant parents.

It was his ‘famous dream’ of a hand calling him, that took him at the age of 10 from one Sufi shrine to the other all over Pakistan for next 7 years. At last some indications made him realise that the hand was from a Dargah ( shrine) at Uch Sharif. From there he was ordered to go to the Shrine of Bulleh Shah at Kasur, and reside there.
Learning about Bulleh Shah’s life, he said , he was astonished to know how similar he was to Bulleh Shah in terms of his love for music and it’s opposition from his family.

He recalled how he was first noticed by the professor cum TV producer Dildar Bhatti, on the shrine of Lal Hussain and was called to sing on PTV. The first words that were aired were:

Na Kar Bandeya Meri, Meri,
Na Teri Na Meri,
Char Dinan Da Mela, Duniya
Pher Mitti Di Dheri
( Do not indulge in self,
Life is neither yours nor mine.
It’s a 4 day trip and then shall all be a mound of earth.).

He mentioned of the honour he was given as the best folk singer by BBC for the year 2006, an Award in France and a Presidential Award in Pakistan, but what he really takes pride is in how he converted two Japanese boys to follow the path of Sufism and Islam.

He talked of the selflessness one needs to have in devoting one’s life to Sufi singing.

On a question of the purpose of sufi music—he mentioned that music was Sufi’s innovative method to attract common man towards the path of peaceful religion. It served the purpose to diffuse the inter-communal tensions and the hegemony of the orthodox religion that existed in the 16 th or 17th century. He said the music was like a magnet for those who wanted to escape from hatred and were attracted to peace and love. .

He said that even in todays world where there is hatred widespread everywhere, he wishes to contribute for world peace, his bit, through Sufi music, like a drop in the ocean.

Quoting Bulleh Shah he remarked, the eseensce of his life was to spread the message of love:

Masjid Dha Day, Mandir Dha Day
Dha Day Jo Kujh Disda
Par Kissay Da Dil Na Dhawee(n)
Rub Dilaa(n) Wich Wasda

Tear down the Mosque, tear down the temple
Tear down every thing in sight
But don’t (tear down) break anyone’s heart
Because God lives there

While talking, came up the fact that he was unlettered, and when I asked if he did he think that education would bring more awareness and openness in the minds of those who spread hatred he remarked:

Parrh Parrh Aalim Faazil Hoya
Kaddi Apney Aap noo Parrheya hi nahin
Jaa Jaa Warda Mandir Maseetaan
Kaddi Mun Apney Vich tun Wardeya ee Nahin

Reading books over and over you want to be a learned man
but you never study your innerself.
You run to enter mosques and temples
but you never enter into your innerself.

He took out a paper from his pocket remarking, “This is my ‘parhai’ ( literacy)”, and he tried to read some meaning out of those pictures. It was beyond me, perhaps because I was illiterate in that language.

On asking about his travels he said that his music has take him to over to 35 countries explaining it simply as “ 5 passports have been filled up with with stamps and visas for different countries.”
I asked him of the place that he liked to visit the most?
He remarked with a diplomatic smile:
“Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay
Jithay Saaray Annay
Na Koi Saadee Zaat PichHanay
Tay Na Koi Saanu Mannay “

O’ Bulleh Shah let’s go there
Where everyone is blind
Where no one recognizes our caste (or race, or family name)
And where no one believes in us

I asked: “Is really any such place on Earth? “
He retorted: “Why do you need a place on land, if your heart is that place, where you do not differentiate ? Is it not enough ?”

As the time passed and my audacity to ask him personal questions increased, an informal Sain Zahoor with a great sense of humour emerged out too.

While talking to him, I could not meet his gaze. I was staring at his ektara, which he calls tumba.
He remarked: “I think you like my tumba more.”
It was embarrassing, but I retorted without a second thought “Yes, I like it a lot”.
And so he offered to teach me how to hold and play it. It was his idea to click a picture with the tumba in my hand.

We talked about his family and his sons, two of whom were part of the orchestra and the third one sings independently.

I was keen to know about his wife, and asked him if he took his wife with him on the tours.
He just smiled and nodded a ‘No’.
“Doesn’t she get angry on your frequent trips and you don’t take her”, I complained.
He smiled and said : “ I have learnt from Bulleh Shah, how to appease her.”
“How? ” was my obviously inquisitive question.
He narrated with a naughty sparkle in his eyes: “ I sing to her:
‘Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji,
Ik baat asan naal has kar ji.’
and my old lady smiles.

I found the verses very intriguing, so he offered to narrate the whole poem, which indeed was beautiful. And I share the first stanza here…
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji,
Ik baat asan naal has kar ji.
Tuseen dil mere vich vasde ho,
aiven saathon duur kyon nasde ho.
Naale ghat jaadu dil khasde ho,
hun kit val jaaso nas kar ji.
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji,
Enough! Now enough!
Smile! Speak to me!
You inhabit my heart.
What is the use of running away?
Using magic, you pulled my heart toward you.
Whom do you run toward now?
Enough! Now enough!

I couldn’t help ask: “Did Bulleh Shah also appease his wife by this poetry?.”
“No he was never married, but he loved his Master Inayat Qadri like a woman loves her beloved.”

And he narrated the interesting story of how Bulleh Shah has once faultered in front of his master by being ‘snobbish’ referring himself as ‘Syed Bulleh”. The master felt offended and disowned Bulleh Shah as a disciple. And his master had set extremely high standards for his disciple, he would not agree to any easy means of appeasement.

Since Bulleh Shah knew appeasing his beloved was no easy task, he dressed himself like a woman, adorned the nath (nose ring), wore ghungroo( ankle bells) and hid behind a veil.
“Why did he have to become a woman?” I asked.
He said “He wanted to show his master that he had given up all his masculine ego and acted like a helpless woman.”

Bulleh Shah sang and danced in front of his master, till the master’s heart melted . He recognised, this extreme devotion could be from none other than BullehShah, so he asked : “Are you Bulleh?”
From behind the veil came the reply: “No master, I am Bhullah( the defaulter).”

He narrated the words which Bulleh Shah used during the appeasement:
Tere ishaq nachaya kar ke thia thia
Tere ishaq ne dira mere ander kita
Bhar ke zehar piala, main taan aape pita
jhabde bohrin we tabiba, nahin taan main mar gai a
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.
This love has set up camp inside me.
I Physician, come back! my life is ebbing away.
It is I who filled the cup with this poison and drank it.
Come back right away, else I will surely die.
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.

As the time for the group came to pack up and leave for the Hotel, I joked: “Sain, are you taking back my tumba?”
He smiled and said: “Come to Pakistan, I will give you an identical one, but the condition is that you will have to learn to play it.”

He did not give me the ektara, but the time he gave to answer my unending questions and the interest with which he offered to answer my queries about him, his poetry and Bulleh Shah, I shall chesrish for rest of my life.

Ektara will remain as mine in the memories and the pictures, for sure 🙂

Category:

Art, CULTURE, Indo-Pak, Instrumental Music, International, Music, Pakistan, Peace, Poetry, Uncategorized

“O God, to those who have hunger, give bread, and to us who have bread, give the hunger for justice.” ~ Prayer from Latin America


A PLEDGE:
Let us make this Ramadan,
special,
by making our Iftars,
simple,
So that we may,
share
with the hungry and the poor
some food
and loads of love.


FOOD FOR THOUGHT:

“Eating alone is a disappointment.
But not eating matter more,
is hollow and green,
has thorns like a chain of fish hooks,
trailing from the heart,
clawing at your insides.
Hunger feels like pincers,
like the bite of crabs;
it burns, burns,
and has no fur.
Let us sit down soon to eat
with all those who haven’t eaten;
let us spread great tablecloths,
put salt in lakes of the world,
set up planetary bakeries,
tables with strawberries in snow,
and a plate like the moon itself
from which we can all eat.
For now I ask no more than the justice of eating.”
~ Pablo Neruda, Chilean Poet

“A hundred years from now
it will not matter
what your bank account was,
the sort of house you lived in,
or the kind of clothes you wore,
but the world may be much different
because you were important
in the life of a hungry child.”
~ Author Unknown

“To a man with an empty stomach food is God” — Gandhi

Category:

Food, General, India, Indo-Pak, International, MOVIE, My world, Pakistan, Peace

Mr Edhi, I know what you mean.


I am really perplexed at the naivety of some of us interpreting Edhi’s statement.

They just choose to pick up the punch line of “killing the politicians” and preferred to ignore the other valid statements he made in which he said, “Political parties are in the opposition or in power, both of which are sides of the same coin. They have been involved in killing thousands of citizens.”
“All tax thieves and zakat thieves live freely in the country. All killers are free, 95 percent of Pakistanis are living in miserable conditions,”

He even made clear, that he has no ambition to come into politics or power, but he would continue to serve the people of Pakistan.

Whatever little I know of Edhi, he is a simple man who knows no mincing of words. He is neither a diplomat with polished demeanour nor is he a politician with twists and turns. Neither does he have any hidden agenda in life. His life is an open book. And above all he has nothing to fear.

It is needless to narrate, but I shall to remind ourselves how noble yet down to earth the man Edhi is.

In a country infested with apathy, he is a man who keeps oceans of empathy for the common man. I stress on the word “common man’. He is the one who has gives shelter to the homeless. He and his wife are the ones who receive illegitimate abandoned new born kids with open hands.

He is a man who does not vie for any foreign funds, or high positions in the pretext of philanthropy. He does not call for press conferences or photo shoots when he launches any project for the poor and the needy. If you ever happen to visit his place on Rashid Minhas road, Karachi, you would find him sitting outside with the drivers, in his simple attire. Anyone unaware of the man would not be able to pick him out from the group sitting there.

The point that I want to make with all this is that if such harsh words come from a man with these above credentials, then there must be some plausible explanation behind it. Anyone with an iota of common sense knows that what he said is undoable.

These words simply reverberate the pulse of the common man, with whom Edhi deals with 24X7. It is his ambulances who reach the site of a blast and keep the unknown bodies for days and months in his morgue. It is he who shelters the orphans from the families whose father dies in the blast or target killings. It is he who shelters the women, young or old, who are left helpless when their husbands, sons, or brothers get killed. He actually witnesses every day what it means when a nameless and faceless poorest of the poor is killed. Most of us just hear it as a statistic on the TV sets. He is a man who is more in touch with the ground realities and common man than even the smallest of politicians.

His words should not be taken in the literal sense. Nor should they be flouted or ignored as insane. These harsh words are the wails of all the dead who fell prey to the violence and of those alive who lead a life worse than death . This is the voice of the pain, frustration and helplessness of the 95% of the people he mentions, who see no hope and respite from the corruption, lawlessness and the injustice.

His words are a red flag for the current situation prevailing in the whole of Pakistan. They speak volumes of the impatience that the masses now have against the corrupt politicians. It signals the lava that is boiling in the volcanoes within each Pakistani.

In fact, this is his simple way to caution the politicians to mend their ways, or else it will be too late. He chooses such cacophony because he knows very well that any words less acrid than this would fall on deaf ears.

I am afraid, Mr Edhi, even these harsh words would fall on deaf ears too.

Reference: http://www.pakistantoday.com.pk/2011/07/kill-all-politicians-edhi-demands-of-kayani/

Category:

Pakistan, Peace, Politics, Social Issues

Dreaming of a world without hatred


The day for me, yesterday, began with the news of Mumbai blasts. Being an Indian origin who migrated after having married a Pakistani 20 years ago, first thing that occurred to me on hearing the blasts was that again the Indo-Pak peace talks shall be stalled and the same cascade of blame game, public statements from both sides, mudslinging, demanding ‘do more’ shall start. All it will serve to do is to reset the peace talks from the scratch. Spurts of cortisol laden with anxiety were rushing through my veins. As the mound of dead in the blasts were piling up, so was my fear in me, that a statement would come blaming Pakistan directly or implying of some group trained there. I knew it would be a sleepless night for me, following every minute of the TV coverage.

Later in the evening, Mumbai incident instantly vanished. There was an instant focus on the venomous words wagged by a rabid tongue. What was tragic was the cascade of events that took place, not just on land but on the walls of various Face Book friends.

It was not just the streets and the vehicles which were torched in anger, but many of the FB friends came out in the open, on their walls, in agreement with these insane words and splattered their share of fuel to the fire, against a whole community.

Within a couple of hours, one could see virtual borders drawn between the various ethnic groups, on a borderless virtual world of Face Book.

The frenzy of mindless hate did not spare me either. As I heard the statement, there was a severe convulsion of the ethnic Urdu speaking aka Muhajir in me. As if all of a sudden a sleeping immigrant woke up overpowering the ‘me’ in me, who till a moment ago took pride in rising above all kinds of differences. I never felt so much rage in me as at that moment. The hate in me wanted to avenge him.
I could sense the positivity drained out of me and replaced by an intense negative feeling of hate and loathing for this man. I would be lying if I would say that my mind did not wander trying to attempt hate for the community to which this mad man belonged. But thankfully, I still had intact memories of wonderful friends and great personalities from the same community and they kept my hateful sentiments in check. However hateful thoughts of this man kept jolting my head. I wanted him and all the ‘virtual’ friends on FB, who agreed with him, to be taught a ‘real’ lesson.
As if commenting on their walls wasn’t enough, I wanted to burn down their walls. In a couple of hours there was so much of energy drained out of me that instead of having spent this night in insomnia ( which is generally the rule when anything like the Mumbai blasts occurs) that I lay listless, and did not realise when was I lost into sleep. It was a restless sleep with visions of fire and blood splattered all over , on streets, on the FB walls. For a change these images did not make me sick. It did not make me feel good either, but it certainly wasn’t a sick feeling.

As I woke up in the morning, I reflected on my thoughts. I did not feel myself. This certainly was not me,.The monster of hate had engulfed me, last night.
After ages, I wept like a child. I cried how 25 years of my upbringing by staunchly secular parents and the rest 20 years of my own strong conviction in humanity as one were undone in a fraction of a second by the blurting of thoughtless statements by an insane man. I could see clearly now that it was a racist slur by a singular man not a community. I was grateful to my conscience, that the ‘me’ in me , who is blind to any color or creed, is taking control of me again.

I now realise exactly of what we read in history, of how passions go out of control, when incited with hateful words.

I also know now, first hand, how the feeling of intense loathing weakens a person physically and mentally in contrast to the strength of soul one gets in loving the whole humanity.

I also know now, first hand, how much of a sense of right vs wrong is blurred when one is overwhelmed with hatred.

I know now that my dream of a world without borders and a world without wars, on which I grew up, shall only be realised if we dream of a world without hatred.

I know exactly what do Pakistanis need, they need to shun hatred of all sorts.

Ilmana Fasih
July 14, 2011

Category:

My world, Pakistan, Peace, Personal, Social Issues, Uncategorized

When kids teach us lessons.


I know not what the name of this boy is or how old is he. But this picture, speaks a million words about his dreams and aspirations.

The comment along with this pic on Facebook, apparently written by his father, said:
Load shedding Schedule in Lahore: 01:00 am to 02:00 am 09:00 am to 10:00 am 02:00 pm to 4:00 pm 08:00 pm to 10:00 pm.

My son wrote this without any assignment. No one asked him to write but he expressed his feelings. He didn’t know that the power is a federal issue…oh! May be he’s right after 18th amendment. This phenomenon of electricity is leaving a deep and darkened effect on a child’s psychology. They can’t have sound sleep. Especially when they used to come back from school at 2:00 pm there is no electricity so they can’t have their lunch properly and same is at night when it goes from 8:00pm to 10:00pm. It also cut down somewhere in midnight in very hot conditions. From poverty to terrorism & economy to education it’s a root cause of many ills & evils but the stone heart leadership is silent on every public issue.

Perhaps good news and Pakistan aren’t friends any more.

The hope-hopelessness curve keeps convulsing with its aberrant spikes and dips in every heart .

After reading the note,jotted by these tender hands, the flame of hope rekindles. Kids are simply amazing. They teach us a million lessons of endurance and hope amidst adversity.

It is their aspirations and faith in their future which is perhaps the only flicker of hope left for us.

Syed Sher Ali’s (the boy in the picture, aged 8 years and a 4th grader–I come to know later) scribbling screams aloud the optimism, that millions of other kids like him whisper each moment.

I just wish that he remains as firm and steadfast in his resolve for all times to come. Let the whip of time not corrupt him, like it has corrupted us. Let the lashes of life not make him a pessimist, like it has made many of us.

Havent we, the grown ups, let them down by what world, what environment and what history we have offered to them?

What have we given them?
Nothing but misery and suffering.

And what do they give us?
Nothing but hope, hope for a better tomorrow.

The picture reminds me of the first half of Kahlil Gibran’s poem on Children:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday

Category:

Pakistan, Peace, Personal

Voices of Ganga Jamuni Tehzeeb


Ganga-Jamni tehzeeb ( गंगा जमुनी तहज़ीब, گنگا جمنی تهزیب,    Ganges-Yamuna Culture) is a  euphemism for the mutually participatory co-existence of  Hindu and Muslim  culture of through the fusion of Hindi and Urdu. (Wikepedia) .

 

 

First example  is a Bhajan sung by Farid Ayaz  & group  (I wonder if it’s MeeraBai’s) sung in a Qawwali form is an excellent example of that Ganga Jamni Tehzeeb.

It was the first time a Muslim Pakistani singer sang a Hindi Bhajan inside a temple in Montreal, during  Kabir Festival in 2008.

Farid Ayaz and  entourage never fail to amaze listeners. Farid Ayaz is  a magician  more than a musician and this passionate rendition is no less than a magic spell…

 

 

Not behind in this tradition of cross culture reverence, Shanker Shambhu brothers sang  in praise of Allah, Prophet Muhammed and Imam Ali.

They were known to be singing with their souls pouring out in their voices and was hard to miss their reverence to the kalaam, said those who saw them sing live.

One of their master piece is the Mun Kunto Maula, sung by many others but this one has it’s own charm, and best of all, I have been listening to this since I can remember….

 

 

These  are but two true examples of music beyond beliefs and borders.

Category:

Farid Ayaz ka Jadoo, Hindi Poetry, India, Pakistan, Peace, RELIGION

ABC of Qawwali


A small irritant from a dear friend, a westernised desi, who kept calling Qawwali as ‘Qawwali song’ got me to make a polite request to her call it only Qawwali. She probably thought I was an expert in the field and with innocent curiosity started to fire questions at me about Qawwali.

I really felt cornered and actually regretted for having made the silly request to her. And I realised that beyond the ABC of Qawwali I had no idea of what qawwali really was made of.

Her basic questions made me wonder that I was equally ignorant of the indepth details. Probably except for calling it Qawwali instead of qawwali ‘song’ there wasnt much difference between me and her. So I began to dig deeper.
It was indeed a wonderful journey to flip through the e-searches learning about Qawwali details.

All I knew earlier was this bit:

The word Qawwali was derived from the arabic word Qaul which means the utterance ( of Prophet).

Qawwali, a Sufi devotional music is unique to north India. It arrived in the subcontinent in the 14th Century. Amir Khusau, known as the ‘Father of Qawwali’ developed this form by incorporating Farsi and Arabic in the Indian music centered on the classical structure of taal and raag.

The word Sama is used in Central Asia and Turkey to refer to forms very similar to Qawwali, and in the subcontinent, the formal name used for a session of Qawwali is Mehfil-e-Sama.
I had known that the singers are called: Qawwal and those group of singers who sing a qawwali chorus in unison are called Humnawan.
I had heard, long ago in Delhi that Qawwals are also called Qawwal bacche.

I began to hunt for what was the reason why they were called so. What I learned was this:

“There is a renowned tale frequently told by qawwals- that of the ‘Qawwal Bachche’. Hazrat Amir Khusro wished to do something extraordinary for his ‘sheikh’ (spiritual mentor) Nizamuddin. So he discovered twelve gifted young men and educated them to render the ragas he had created. The sheikh was thrilled with their performance and these twelve lads went on to be recognized as the ‘Qawwal Bachche’.This ancestry of qawwali singers, the sons of the initial qawwal or Qawwal Bacche, was begun by a man who, as fable goes, was hearing impaired and mute. Inexplicably healed by a Sufi saint, he converted to become one of the earliest disciples of Amir Khusro. Qawwali has been handed down from father to son over generations, with weight on the children memorizing the poetry and precise elocution of the words because several of the songs are in Persian.”
(Source: http://www.planetradiocity.com/musicopedia/music_decade.php?conid=2362).

During Googling I came across a list of qawwwali vocabulary, on ‘bohotkhoob’ blog, which I thought was a must share:

Alap = Introductory phrases of a raga sung without rhythm to create a background for the raga used in the composition.
Anga = Aspects of singing which bring out the main style followed by the singer.
Baja = Instrument, chiefly harmonium. Strangely though Harmonium was introduced into qawwali only in mid 19th Century. Earlier instruments used were: double-headed drum (dholak) and a bowed lute (sarangi, dilruba) and an earthenware pot(ghara).
Band = A verse of more than two lines — inserted from a longer poem.
Band sama = A closed or an exclusive performance in which a special song-repertoire is rendered without any instrumental accompaniment.
Badhana = To extend, or elaborate the melodic theme.
Bari ka gana = To sing by turns in an assembly of Qawwal-singers.
Bol = Utterance, the repeatable part of the song-text sung by the chorus.
Bol samjhana = To convey the meaning of the text through musical variations, etc.
Chachar = Metric pattern of 14 beats frequently employed in the genre.
Chal = Gait, the specific melodic contour of the song.
Chalat phirat = Melodic improvisation mostly in a faster tempo and intricate in design.
Cheez = A complete, original song without additions etc.
Chaoki = A performing group of qawwal named after the leader or his ancestor.
Dhun = A tune which is satisfyingly complete and yet may not be in a codified raga.
Doha = A couplet making a complete, rhyming poetic statement in common metre employed by the singers at the beginning or as insertions.
Dohrana = To repeat.
Girah = A knot, i.e. inserted verse in a qawwali.
Hamd = Poem in Urdu/Farsi in praise of God.
Hawa = Archaic Sufi song in Farsi said to be composed by Amir Khusro.
Khas tarz = Special tune.
Makhsus tarz = Special tune.
Manqabat = Poem in praise of a great religious personage, especially Sufi saints.
Munajat= means secret conversation, whispering, prayer, longing or yearning. Sung in Farsi and was invented by Rumi.
Masnavi = Extended Farsi poem with rhyming couplets
Matra = Durational unit in music making.
Misra = Verse line.
Misra kholna = ‘to open the verse line’.
Misra ula = First verse line, especially the opening line of a couplet.
Mukhra = The opening refrain line of the song.
Murki = Melodic ‘turn’ — a specific musical embellishment.
Mushtar ka gana = Mixed i.e. communal singing.
Naghma = Melody, tune, played as a prelude to the qawwali, usually based on a tune derived from the Zikr Allahu.
Panchayati gana = communal singing.
Padhna = Recite, read or chant without instrumental accompaniment.
Phailav = Melodic spreading, expansion.
Qata = Four line aphoristic poetic form in Urdu/Farsi used in introductory section of the qawwali.
Qaul = The basic ritual, obligatory song either as opening or closing hymn with the text based on sayings of the Prophet.
Rang = The second principal ritual, obligatory song after Qaul celebrating the saints (Nizamuddin) spiritual guidance (colouring) of his disciple Amir Khusro.
Rubai = Aphoristic four-line poetic form in Farsi/Urdu in qawwali. It refers to the recitative preceding the qawwali often based on a Rubai.
Sany bolan = Saying it as second, singing a verse line to the tune section of the second concluding line of a couplet.
Sargam = Sol-fa passage.
Sher = Couplet, literally the strophic unit of the ghazal poem.
Takrar = Multiple repetition.
Tali = clapping.Clapping by the performers in the second row complements the instruments.
Tarana = A genre of songs with meaningless auspicious words, often derived from Sufi invocations.
Tazmin = A poem incorporating famous verses around Sufi classics in Farsi.
Thap = An accented drum beat.
Tiyya = A triad of a rhythmic/melodic cadence.
wajd = Ecstacy, invoked by any particular shair or couplet of poetical composition, which is common scene in such mahfils,that particular couplet is repeated continuously by the Qawwal until the thirst of the ecstatic ‘subject’ is fully satisfied and he returns to his normal condition
Zatnin = Poetic metre of the song-text.
Zarb = Accent, rhythmic stress.

It has now somewhat made me understand the rendition beyond just the words sung. The ups and downs, the repeats, the style of singing, punctuated by narration, the claps etc in the middle of the rendition, now seem to make a lot more fascination.

I am sure many of the Qawwali lovers would be far above my baseline of knowledge, but anyhow Happy listening!

(Source: Music contexts: A Concise dictionary of Hindustani Music. By Ashok Damodar Ranade
http://meheralisherali.com/history.html).

Category:

Amir Kusro, Art, India, Indo-Pak, Instrumental Music, Music, Pakistan, Poetry