Pleading for a merciful glance

While in the middle of writing my column for this week, I was hit by a deeply disturbing piece of news - the assassination of renowned Qawwali singer Amjad Sabri. He was shot dead in Karachi on June 22, when assailants fired at his car. The Pakistani Taliban, Hakimullah Mehsud group, has accepted responsibility for the brutal and shameful attack. Amjad Sabri belonged to a long line of Qawwals, who claim to be descendants of the legendary musician Mian Tansen of Akbar's court. True to his ancestors' musical genre, Amjad's renditions preserved the pure Sufi style and mysticism and captured the hearts and souls of millions!

Moved by the tragedy, I felt a compelling urge to change track and write about my reflections on this heartrending incident. This column, however, is not about Amjad Sabri's life, neither is it about the Islamic extremists who continue to instigate and execute the killings of innocent people, in the name of God. This is more a personal story of how the Sabris introduced me to a whole new world of Sufi music. My first introduction to the Sabri brothers (Amjad's father and uncle) occurred when we were living in Armenia in the late 90s. The pace of social life was sluggish as the country was still recovering from the collapse of the Soviet system. I invested a large chunk of my time listening to music, while sitting in our balcony, and gazing at the distant snow-capped biblical Mount Ararat. Just by chance, I stumbled on a CD of Qawwalis by the Sabris. I could only understand a few words, but the haunting rhythm and melody captivated me. Apart from some Hindi film songs, I was not familiar with Urdu ghazals or qawwalis, and my knowledge of the language was limited. My husband's patient translations and interpretations and the mystical, trancelike quality of the Sufi qawwalis helped me embark on a unique spiritual journey.

The fascinating aspect of the songs was that the singer tried to establish a direct connection with God. The music had, in fact, the inimitable quality of transporting one to a realm where the Creator and His creations are joined in a beautiful union. The sublime voices, the spiritual lyrics and the powerful melodies communicated with me in a divine language. With the help of some background reading, I discovered that the deep connection between man, nature and God is an integral part of the Sufi tradition of South Asia. Since a similar theme features predominantly in Rabindra Sangeet (that I have been singing for nearly a lifetime), I established an intimate bond with this new genre. However, Sufi qawwalis are intensely personal, since the singer speaks directly to God and the Prophet – often pleading for help. For example, one of the most famous Sabri numbers, "Tajdar-e-Haram", is an appeal to the Prophet (PBUH). What on earth did the killers find objectionable in a verse that asks the Prophet (PBUH) to plead on their behalf to Allah to bless His subjects with a life of "peace and contentment"? A singer myself, how can I not condemn the brutal act that silenced a voice which could have gifted us with many more years of divine music? In fact, I pity the perpetrators of the crime because they lack the soul to fathom the spiritual experience of Sufi music! My friends and family have cautioned me against protesting publicly, given the prevailing intolerance. But as an artist how can I not cry out aloud in despair when I hear Amjad Sabri's lament:

We have no one to call our own, we are stricken with grief

We come and cry for justice at your door

Please spare us a merciful glance, or we will

Die at your threshold, uttering your name….

I realise we will never fully understand how contorted minds think and react. But it's time we protested against the rising tide of fanaticism and bigotry - each one of us in our small way. Not through the instrument of violence which extremists employ. But with our pens, our voices and in our social discourse. Let us make each street corner a Sufi shrine from which peaceful music will flow and let's write and recite poems and stories that will reestablish tolerance and compassion amongst our fellow beings. After all, we have the advantage – we are the majority and we are on the side of what is right! 

The writer is a renowned Rabindra Sangeet exponent and a former employee of the World Bank. E-mail:shiftingimages@gmail.com