Our series of day-by-day reports of the entire Convention can be found here.
By Isha Bhallamudi, Aroon Narayanan and Nithyanand Rao
(News on the morning yoga and intensives remains largely the same, save the fact that participants have been observed to wear noticeably more haggard and sleep-deprived faces.)
An Afternoon of Transcendence
The brothers Nazeer Ahmed Khan Warsi and Naseer Ahmed Khan Warsi, with their team of six others, walked on to the stage to a full house inside SAC on a fine summer afternoon, wearing black Kashmiri topis. What followed was two hours of music that was magical, intoxicating. As the concert progressed, the SAC auditorium crackled with the kind of energy and fervour usually reserved for India-Pakistan cricket matches. Except the energy was not one of animosity, but sheer, unbridled, infectious joy. The Warsi brothers were able to whip up hypnotic enthusiasm that made pensioners sitting in the audience feel like little kids playing chor-police on the streets again, on long, lazy summer evenings, with careless abandon.
If the point of music is to energize the listener, lift their sagging spirits, make one forget the worries of the world, and instill joie de vivre, there are few forms of music that can rival Qawwali. The nature of the art form invites, nay, goads, the listener – young or old, passionately in love or heartbroken, happy or sad, connoisseur or casual listener, god-fearing or godless – to participate in the singing by clapping along with the artists, to partake of the sheer joy of being alive. It succeeds in peeling back the layers of reserve of even the most hardened of cynics, penetrating, unlocking, with the sharpness of a diamond tip into that part of the mind, that neural circuit in the brain, that is responsible for feelings of elation and transcendence. The result is at once personal and universal – there was not a single face in the audience without the sort of warm, glowing smile that one exchanges upon seeing a dear, intimate friend. The Qawwali helped us find ourselves.
That the music so lovingly presented today was in Urdu, with most words being familiar – or even if not, easily divinable – to anyone with a working knowledge of Hindi, made it even more inviting and accessible to the lay listener. Not for them the barriers of technical knowledge that curtails a curious but inexperienced listener’s appreciation of Carnatic or Hindustani music. The easy informality of the concert ambience, the lack of perceivable strictures in the music, helps one connect with the artists instantly. More than once, the audience spontaneously erupted in cries of “Wah, wah” at the exquisite poetry of the songs. Not to mention the improvisations. It was helped in no small measure by the expressive nature of the Warsi brothers’ singing. Qawwali is intensely and gloriously physical, both in its expression and forceful singing – with four singers supporting the duo for chorus while also supporting the percussion by clapping – and its deceptively earthy subject.
The Warsi brothers were ably aided in this by Mohtasham Ahmed, Sameer, Aziz, S. Habeeb and M. Jabbar. They are heirs of a tradition that spans generations and centuries. Their grandfather Padma Shri Aziz Ahmed Khan Warsi and their father Zaheer Ahmed Khan Warsi were both renowned singers. In fact, the duo from Hyderabad sang one of their grandfather’s compositions, Maula Salim Chishti.
Though they were singing of love – unrequited love and the agony of separation – and implicitly, spiritual yearning for union with what is divine in nature, there was not a hint of despair or dejection in their music. It was filled with hope and optimism, a firm, unshakable, deep belief that one will ultimately reach one’s goal, one way or another. There was the lightness of touch that bespoke of not taking life too seriously. The sense of detachment, yet full-blooded involvement in life would have pleased the Buddha. It spoke of the importance of fully committing oneself to whatever or whoever one is in love with, an immersion in the life one yearns for, a devotion to one’s love that can move mountains. But all the same, staying detached from the results. Finding satisfaction, fulfillment, meaning in the action, the journey – with all its loss and suffering – is what matters.
When the compère thanked the artists and announced the end of the concert, what happened next was unusual, yet entirely natural. The audience voiced their wish as one, pleading for “one more.” The Warsi brothers were happy to oblige. And how. They picked the evergreen Damadam Mast Qalandar, to the instant delight of all those fortunate enough to be present in the auditorium. The standing ovation that followed was necessary, but hardly sufficient, to show one’s appreciation for the divine music.
An Award-Winning Movie
This was followed by a screening of the National Film Award-winning Malayalam film Mathilukal, with Mammootty playing the lead role, directed by the celebrated Adoor Gopalakrishnan. The story, set in pre-Independence India, is partly autobiographical and is based on a novel written by Vaikom Muhammad Basheer, whom Adoorji called the “perhaps the greatest writer in Malayalam literature.”
Adoor Gopalakrishnan, who gave an introduction to the film, stayed back to take questions. He joked about his short-term memory and requested that the audience only ask him “simple questions, not too complicated — otherwise I won’t remember.” However, due to time constraints, only three questions were allowed and the crowd dispersed, largely sated with the film but partly unsatisfied with the interaction session.
Following this session, the crowd dispersed for a hurried dinner, or, alternately, a tour of the crafts stalls and a stroll around the Raja Deen Dayal photography exhibit.
Always Ready to Dance
The first evening concert of the day was scheduled to be a Bharatanatyam performance by Vidushi Smt. Alarmel Valli, who was, however, unable to attend the convention. Therefore, Kalidas Samman Dr. C. V. Chandrasekhar graciously stepped in to perform instead, at very short notice. At the ripe old age of eighty, he remains one of India’s most senior and revered Bharatanatyam dancers.
A proponent of Kalakshetra Academy, Dr. Chandrasekhar began with Mooshika Vahana, a traditional opening piece. He performed the Ganesha Stuti flawlessly and with great poise, and then moved on to another trademark Kalakshetra piece — Roopama Suchi, set in raaga Todi. However, to the surprise of the audience, he did not perform the varnam entirely, choosing to conclude the piece in the middle of the charana. Perhaps this had something to do with the extremely short notice given to him and his advanced age. However, he had the audience enthralled throughout the rendition.
Dr. Chandrashekhar ended with two abhinayas. First, he rendered a keerthana in raaga Shankarabharanam that depicted Radha pining for Krishna, drawing a realistic sketch of Radha reminiscing about Krishna, longing for him even as she waits for her sakhi to fetch Krishna to her. He concluded with an impromptu piece around the bhajan Deenana Dukh composed by Sant Surdas. His performances were very well received by the audience, who began clapping at every opportunity.
It was evident that although his style adhered to the Kalakshetra tradition, the dramatic overtones were softened and Dr. Chandrasekhar’s renditions turned more realistic than dramatic, portraying the nuances that come with natural observation. The accompanying artistes did a beautiful job, complementing the performance ably. The concert ended with a standing ovation, which, however, was not the last of the evening.
Two Sides of the Same Coin
The Carnatic vocalist Vidwan T. N. Sheshagopalan was the artist scheduled for the evening, but Pandit Vinayak Torvi, a disciple of Bharat Ratna Pandit Bhimsen Joshi of the Kirana Gharana, had to fill in for him as he was unavailable. But, Pt. Torvi sought to soothe any frayed nerves by clarifying that both Carnatic and Hindustani traditions were a part of Indian culture and hence the audience would be getting what they came to the concert for in either case.
The first composition was in raaga Poorya Kalyan set to Vilambit Ek Taal. He then moved on to raaga Kalavathi in Madhya Lay. Both of these were filled with complicated aalaps and Pt. Torvi could see that the audience was getting restless. Before moving on, he indicated to the audience that up North, these concerts would go on all night and hence hours would be spent building aalaps. The highlight of the concert came just before this — Pt. Torvi introduced a young SPIC MACAY participant, who had been sitting behind him on stage all the while, and indicated that he repeat after him. The young boy matched the maestro swar to swar a few times around but was stumped when he was thrown an intricate aalap. He smiled, bowed and touched his ears in humble obeisance and Pt. Torvi continued with his aalap, much to the amusement of the audience. He decided to end with less intensive pieces — a Hindi bhajan called Raghuvar Tumko Meri Laaj, made famous by his guru Pt. Bhimsen Joshi, and a Marathi abhang composed by Sant Tukaram. These livened up the audience to good effect and the concert ended to a standing ovation.
