Dawn recently printed an article by Huma Yusuf titled ‘Beyond the Culture War’. The article was a brave and imaginative discussion of various issues concerning the possible uses of the arts in Pakistani culture. I should like to debate some points made in the article and others omitted.
Ms. Yusuf quotes the poet Fehmida Riaz as saying there is no place for poetry in Pakistan because most Pakistanis are illiterate and because the literate with power have no respect for poetry. Ms. Riaz did not, I am sure, intend her remarks to be taken too literally, but meant them as an expression of her despair, which, in many ways, I share. So the following remarks are not an attack upon her.
Contrary to Ms. Riaz’s predictions, I should like to say that in my 36-year acquaintance with Pakistan, I have observed a great love of poetry and music among the illiterate poor. Sadly, it is now rarer than it was before General Zia-ul-Haq unleashed a major assault on Pakistani culture. Indeed, the history of Pakistan carries a cautionary tale about the arts and people. We may, therefore, find it helpful to illustrate the uses of art in a country by observing what happens when they are attacked and go missing.
Since today’s Pakistan bears little resemblance to the wonderful country to which I came in 1972, I shall not mention the locations of what I shall describe. We live in times where the truly sacred is now threatened by barbarians masquerading as devout people and by profiteering philistines. What follows is an account of art in its purest form, now threatened or gone.
Somewhere in Pakistan, years ago, every Thursday night, I used to attend qawalis during which people were utterly entranced by some of the most beautiful music and poetry I have ever heard. Qawali is poetry of the highest order set to music of equal quality. At the sacred place where these enchanting meetings took place, the women were congregated around a balcony on the first floor of a hall and looked down on the lower floor filled with men. Leaning over the balcony, the women would loosen their long black hair and wave those black cascading tresses rhythmically with the music.
Down on the ground floor of the hall, men were engaged in a different ritual. They were giving offerings of money to the singers and players, whose utter dedication to their music suggested they were in another world. Every now and then, groups of young men would approach the musicians with offerings of modest sums of money. Often different numbers, of up to six people, holding a single rupee note (a lot of money for them, so they shared the honour) made their way, like supplicants, to the musicians and placed the money reverently at their feet.
The musicians seemed not to notice these offerings. They were apparently transported by their own music and were on a mission to bring divine ecstasy to the people. It brought tears to my eyes and to those of my wife, who stood with me, in jeans, unmolested among the courteous young men around us.
In that setting, we heard great performers such as Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and we listened to these miraculously talented people free of charge in the company of people who seemed to be indescribably happy. Commerce played no part in the sung prayers (true prayers, not tedious words uttered by rote) that were being loosed from powerful bows of feeling by the singers, flung like arrows straight up to heart of God as well as into all of our hearts.
Never have I known a purer form of art, nor felt such shared, unquestioned love. This was sacredness in its ancient, original form. And I doubt that anyone in the congregation, other than my wife and I, could read and write. On these occasions, I knew a degree of civility – human fineness would be more accurate – rare in this world and becoming ever rarer. The sweet innocents around me were unaware of their own nobility, but I would not have swapped their company for that of kings.
On another occasion in a very different part of the country, a Pakistani friend and I attended an annual two-day celebration of one of the greatest thirteenth-century scholars of this region. Think of that! Illiterate people, with reverence not envy, paying their deepest respects to a scholar for his literacy and wisdom. Where else in the world is such an event to be found?
The celebration takes place in one of the most beautiful shrines in all of Islam and is attended by village, country, and nomadic people from hundreds of miles around. They come dressed in their finery and, though poor, they looked magnificent.
Men and women gathered together under one great lofty dome below which, at the centre, lay a sarcophagus covered in crimson velvet. Around this central tomb, where the great scholar lay, people circulated slowly, while a single young man, unaccompanied by musical instruments, sang naat, and that too with such beauty that I stood transfixed and light-headed for two hours. I was lost to time in ecstasy.
On this occasion, unlike my usual custom in Pakistan, I was dressed in European clothes, but never, not by a single glance, did anyone in that great domed hall of people ever give me the slightest impression that I might be a stranger or that I did not belong there. I felt as if, after wandering the world pointlessly for most of my life, I had come home at last. The circulating men pressed little white sweets into the palm of my hands as they passed me by, not looking at me nor expecting a response, I was simply one of them. I belonged there.
When I was eventually urged out of the mazaar by my friend, just outside the main gates we came upon a group of musicians playing what I recognised immediately to be the original music from which Spanish flamenco derives. In my youth, I spent years in Granada, Spain, home to arguably the finest architecture and garden in all of Islam, the Alhambra. Above that palace, in the mountain caves, live gypsy singers, all of whom migrated to Spain from the Indus Valley hundreds of years ago. Las cuevas (the caves) of Granada, along with Seville and Cordoba, comprise the traditional centres of gypsy culture in Spain. The gypsies of Spain (the word derives from the legend that they came to Spain across North Africa through Egypt) flourished during the golden age of Islam in Spain (711-1492), when Islam was the only light in a dark Europe.
As I stood outside the gates of the mazaar, I found myself among people with whose distant relatives I had spent many happy years in Spain. And now these Pakistani ‘gypsies’ were playing the original form of the flamenco I knew so well and thought I would never again hear live. In the 1950s, when I was there, the most poetic form of gypsy music was called cante jondo (deep song). Once again, I had to come to Pakistan to find my way back to a world destroyed by commerce elsewhere; to rediscover something sacred that is now on the verge of destruction in Pakistan too – destruction by neglect, ignorance, the indifference of money grubbers, the blindness of upstart gundas turned politicians, and by the violent arrogance of pseudo-religious thugs. So, yes, Fehmida, I know what you mean.
So, may I conclude by saying to Ms. Yusuf, thank you for your imaginative and passionate article, but, alas no, art cannot humanise us. Rather, it is a sign that we are already human (in a sense almost forgotten). Archaeologists date the arrival of homo sapiens in the world by the traces of art they left behind. Art was then a celebration of life, an act of worshipping a beautiful world, which is now being destroyed by ‘progress.’ These ancient remnants of art show the earliest expression among people of their sense of what is sacred. We need art because when we lose that sense of the sacred, we destroy the world to which we truly belong, and replace it with savage doctrines and wastelands. No poet, to my knowledge, ever expressed the attack by modern civilisation on culture better than W.H. Auden, in his poem The Shield of Achilles. Read it and weep.
You might ask how can we push back the barbarians who are out to destroy what is truly sacred? I have no idea, but we can at least try by being kind to all living creatures that are not unkind to us. We should try to remember the greatest words ever uttered: Peace be upon you.
Charles Ferndale is a freelance journalist, with a special interest in nature conservation, art, and alleviating poverty in Pakistan.
The views expressed by this writer and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.
Pakistan government punches its youth.
It is undoubted that government is always established and enhanced by the favors of its youth, in others words, government and its youth is inseparable from each others. Hence rises a question that why youth of Pakistan has not been allowing to participate something ever since Pakistan came to existence? Weather there has been a fault in the youth of Pakistan. Yes! Off course youth of Pakistan has been lake of education and knowledge, which has been causing of their failure to serve the country. It is noticeable that who is responsible for their abortiveness, Weather themselves or government. “Just government” is accountable for this guilty and mismanagement towards education and youth policy. Today in Pakistan ultimately youth is effected with unemployment. It is just due to unworthy education being drafted by Pakistan government for students.
Thanks for the article!!
With the death of this veteran Pakistan has lost a musician and qawal of international fame. He figured prominently on the cultural scene of the universe for more than two decades, His memories will be remembered for ever. In a country where stardom is often so very rare he was one of the very few real classical singer and qawal who shone with blinding glitter on the horizon classical music. He is quite immortal.
It is certainly interesting for me to read the article. Thanx for it. I like such topics and everything that is connected to this matter. I definitely want to read more on that blog soon.
Sweet memories of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan can never be forgotten. Many famous poets of Jhang were admirers of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. It was a hot evening of June 1990 when Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan came to the tomb of Heer. When he sang the poetry of Hazrat Sultan Bahoo
Dil darya samandron doonghe kon dilan dian jane Hoo.
All the listeners started weeping, when this legend said
Taari maar uda na sanoon asein aape uden hare Hoo.
I saw his live performance many times, he was a great singer and qawal of the world.
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was well wisher of the poor and helpless people. He wanted to improve the classical singing in the country. He was a great admirer of classical music. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan will be remembered for ever. He is quite immortal.
This brings me to an idea:)
Peace is the answer. Cultures and arts have crossed over between civilizations since before history was ever recorded. It isn’t necessary to be literate to appreciate the arts.
This is an excellent blog. It is true that real art is, at once, priceless and easily accessible. And that is precisely its real beauty.
In Pakistan there are too much art. In Pakistan we can see art in different places. Our music our poetry has its own charm. Due to it every one can get excitement.
I am happy to see the people who are really interesting in Sufi music. people who leaving in Pakistan (rich, poor) they both are listening music but the few people know about such wonderful Sufism music I mean classical food. I thanks to writer who wrote the article about Pakistani people contribution in music and I also mention the thing which really disappointed me. The Indian singers who’s giving bad comments for the Pakistani legend Rahat Fateh Ali Khan.
I’m from Hyderabad India live in US now. I came to know lot of Pakistan through Dawn I feel I am reading about my own city Hyderabad (I can’t make any difference at all). The more I read about Pakistan I get fascinated about it and like to visit at least in my life time. Pakistan is gifted with wonderful arts and musicians. I feel Pakistan is resilient nation and will surely get through the mess it created for itself and arts will flourish again.
I’m ardent reader of dawn big fan of Irfan Hussian Sahab, Nadeem, Shafi and others.
Best of Wishes to people of Pakistan.
If poetry is good and meaningful it finds its fans every where. For instance the following pushto poem of Ajmal Khattak is very popular among pushtoons. It is translated in english. It is titled jannat or paradise.
I asked a mullah what do you think is paradise like?
He ran his figures through his beard and said
“Fresh fruits and rivers of milk”
A talib (student) was setting nearby
I asked him, what do you say?
He put aside the book of Zulekha he was reading and said
“Beautiful women with (tatooed) green dots on their cheeks”
A sheikh stood nearby, rolling his tasbeeh (rosary)
He stroked his beard and said (questioning the talib)
“No, it’s not like that”
“Paradise is beautiful servant boys and heavenly music”
A khan raised his head from a lengthy sajda (prostration in prayer)
What is your opinion, khan sahib? I asked
He adjusted his turban and said
“The luxuriously furnished and perfumed mansions”
Nearby a laborer stood in his tattered clothes
I asked him, do you know what paradise is?
He wiped the sweat from his brow and said
“It’s a full stomach and deep slumber”
A man in disheveled hair, passed by, lost in his thoughts
I asked him what do you say, philosopher?
“It’s nothing but dreams conjured up to please man”
(Confused) I looked down into my heart and then looked up into the blue sky
And heard a murmur in reply
“Paradise is your home where you are the master and at liberty
And if you cannot attain the freedom
Then sacrifice on the path to freedom,
As an ideal, is paradise?
Be it hellfire or the gallows”
A very nice blog
I tend to agree with most of the points you make but I think the point about the “poor literate” is very debatable.
Poetry, I believe can be enjoyed by the social class called the “middle class”
Because they tend to be education (real education, mind you) and have enough means to sustain themselves, and hence would find creativity appealing and take it up (or listen to music/poetry in this case) as recreation.
The poor cannot do that because they are probably not very well educated (here again I mean the kind of education that enables you to appreciate the finer things in life) and are struggling with bare necessities of life.
Nor can the rich enjoy it because they are also, in most cases, devoid of meaningful education and have not developed any cultural taste, and are too busy thinking of ways to show their wealth off while multiplying it.
It is a pity that the “middle class” is vanishing from Pakistani society.
To people, who think Fehmida Riaz’s comment is unwarranted, estimate the percentage of young population (18-30) who has read Faiz, Ghalib, Iqbal etc and you will reach the same conclusion as Fehmida Riaz.
Our ‘younger’ generation has no appreciation for even fine language. The proof of which is the number of TV channels where ‘young’ anchors desecrate the Urdu language (my heart bleeds), their pronunciation and grammar is far below the levels I was taught in 4th grade in school, not to say anything about their intellectual prowess.
These are people our ‘youngsters’ follow, and judging by that, I do not see that in the next few decades, we will have a generation who knows the names of giants like Iqbal, Faiz, Ghalib, Dard, Faraz, Parveen Shakir, Iqbal Bano, Nayara Noor, (and the list could go on) let alone be able to ‘appreciate’ them and their art. We are certainly a doomed nation.
Agree with all the “Best’s” like poetry, art, music, etc. Same is my favorite. Well said reminds me of the good old days when I could freely say how I feel i.e. Qawali is the BEST without actually insulting my own non-Muslim religion or without having Muslims make me feel otherwise. I 100% consent.
Sadly, a lot of Muslims are shunning music as something evil. How do they avoid the chirping of the birds, waves coming ashore and the constant rhythm of the heart? Is that not music too? By your article, it’s clear that art is being destroyed by literates starting with Zia.
Ms. Yusuf quotes the poet Fehmida Riaz as saying there is no place for poetry in Pakistan because most Pakistanis are illiterate and because the literate with power have no respect for poetry.
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This comment is not acceptable, grossly over dosage. The poet should apologies for such comment. Good poetry is always respected in Pakistan besides poetry is always written for peoples who can read and write. No where in the world poetries are written for illiterate. No country in the entire world can claim 100% true literacy.
AH
What little mutual love and affection remains among Indians and Pakistanis is the direct result of such art.
Music is perhaps the most common language to provide an interaction between those who are not bound with the particular race or existence.
As I have watched in the cases of Qawwali programs by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, the westerners just enjoyed and got into that particular beat.
I would completely agree with the author’s viewpoint related to the harm caused to our heritage in the era of Gen. Zia-ul-Haque.
And since now things have been in the bitterest forms ever.
Islamists taking power and feelings authorized by whatever they feel exists correct are practicing it, no matter by hook or by crook!
This post is an example of good creativity. The posts like this will improve the mentality of the community.
The article is really touchy you should write more about it.
A wonderful blog that raises an oft-ignored fact: true art-the purest form of it, that is- is not the prerogative of the financially affluent alone. As sociologists say, culture is not always high culture, confined to the upper strata of society.
Indeed real art is intrinsically accessible to the common person. Like a scrumptious meal, it does not need an educated mind to marvel at its greatness or to appreciate its subtlety. Education does not always equate elegance just as class does not necessarily bring refinement.
Some of the legends of Pakistani art like Reshma, Nustrat Fateh Ali Khan and others were not holders of degrees or belonged to rich families. We were never fascinated by their wealth or pedigree. It was through their art and art alone that they endeared to us, and it is fitting therefore that their appeal has been almost universal, mesmerizing the poor and the rich alike.
Great article more articles like this are needed to the spark the creativity of the population which has been manipulated into being fearful zombies they never were. That region has always been about rejoicing, spirituality, and truth not fear and dogmatism and rejection of art and expression.
A wonderful post. And an awesome comment by Mr.Punjab Singh Punjabi(I doubt that’s his real name!).
Come to Eastern Punjab and visit Rajasthan my young Mr. Ferndale and you will be treated to Punjabiyat and Sufism in its purest form. The Gypsies or the Romani people are direct scions of north western India and Pakistan. The flamenco beat is originated from the rustic voices of Jats and their strong unflappable women folk of Punjab and Rajasthan and so is the phangara or commonly known as the ‘Bhangara’. Islam although Arabic in origin helped enhance our Aryan/Scythian and Dravidian cultures. We have a saying in the Punjab, when you sit quietly in the wheat fields of Punjab watching the fields bloom and the bees making nectarine from the mustard flowers you can here the earth celebrating in a manner most boisterous that it makes you leap and dance. No culture, no religion can suppress that because it is Mother Earth and the Gods themselves who are dancing and celebrating this land called the Punjab.
Who is this person that writes such a moving piece about my beloved land. Can we expect some more from you Sir.
You too are a rare breed indeed!
Thank you for this great article. When I go to a Hindu Temple in the U.S. and attend some of the religious musical rituals, I see many Pakistani musicians taking active part. This depicts the universality of music that has no geographic, religious, or other boundaries.
I have great respect for the musicians of the subcontinent that have held the people together. The greats of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Noor Jahan, Kundan Lal Saigal, Mohammad Rafi, Mukesh, Sonu Negam, Jagjit Singh, Begum Akhtar, Ustad Bahauddin Khan Qawwal, Aziz Mian Mairthi, Ustad Sarahang, Latha, and others will always be in our hearts and souls.
Our politicians have divided the people of the subcontinents, where our musicians have glued us back together.
Fascinating article, but I wouldn’t be so pessimistic. I expect art to renew itself like the phoenix in time.
The Islamization of Pakistan starting with Zia really has made Pakistan so much that it contributed to the world in past years.
This is a good article about the art of qawali and Nusrat Fateh ali Khan. Writer has given historical facts about the fine arts. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was a legend in the art of qawali. I watched his live performance many times. He was a great performing artist.
Pakistanis or the Muslims in the Indian sub-continent are a little sentimental about poetry. So much goes on in prose writing. Perhaps the sentimentality deserves since the best works had been accomplished by the poets rather than the prose writers. Worse, the poet Iqbal is given the license to come up with political idea, the idea of Islamic polity. Poet Iqbal was too occupied in saving Islam that he forgot to check out the fate of that idea during the demise of Ottoman Empire after the World War One. It was Turkish nationalism prevailed over pan-Islamism. The lesson? Poets should stay out of politics. Even Shakespeare was wrong when it came to Henry V. in the battle of Agincourt.
Thank you very much for writing these lines. So powerful and kind to remind me the time when poetry and literature was something to feel, love and enjoy.
Many thanks for the article.
These so-called illiterate people live with and through common sense which is the essence of what their culture is in terms of “pleasant wisdom” and primary poetic ecstasy of collective joy and sadness through celebration. Yes, I saw unlettered persons in tears of bliss in front of an ephemeral, but moving twilight!
This is a really interesting blog and very well written as well. Yes, art and culture are definitely integral to Pakistani society. And have been for years. It is all the more heartening that the life of even the poorest, unlettered person is not completely bereft of art. Because after all, stripped of our art and our culture, we are all, irrespective of wealth or class or fortune, truly impoverished, pitiable beings.
A very touchy article. Pakistani art or one should say, art of the sub-continent has been magnificent over the decades. We have produced wonders and made this piece of land beautiful to thrive on.
I personally love qawwalis, qawwali music is a little different from the other genres due to its spiritual class plus it offers an infinite blend of lyrics with traditional raags.
Too bad we are loosing our finest of people to the coward acts of barbarians. I pray for bright future of our land, our people and our culture.
Nice article again
Beautiful writing sir.
Very touching article. Good luck with your endeavors and peace be upon you.
I read your article. I am from a village and my father is a farmer. I have seen a lot of people who can not read and write but they can appreciate the art better than the literate. There are numerous poets in Sindh who came from masses and their poetry is remembered by village folk. Shah Abdul latif Bhittai became so popular and still is one of the greatest poets because it is popular among our village folk.
I saw how Allan Faqir can sing him and it looks like there is an other dimension to the world apart from space and time. Ayaz’s poetry can increase the heart beat of many amongst us when Sarmad can sing it loudly.
These all are examples of basically the poor, illiterate and ignore people who still love their poets, singers although they can hardly survive in this world due to their poverty.
If we like to find the true wisdom then we must go to see how Faqir’s of Shah Inayat Soofi, Sachal Sarmast and Shah Abdul Lateef’s mazaar’s. We can find the poor, illiterate people who are singing and music and art is intertwined with their religion.
So we must do research into how the people of Indus the sons of soil got this and this can be seen from Himalayans to Indian Ocean along the banks of mighty Indus.
The artist must have a message of love, sincerity and promising tomorrow and then he becomes immortal in the voice of Abdia Perveen and Allan Faqir. No one can separate a real artist and poet like Shah Abdul lateef from masses as his message is pure and full of hope.
We see a downfall in art and culture because the elite of our country does not like these artists and singers. But then it does not stop there as there won’t be much of this in future if people do not have time to read Shah Abdul Lateef whose one line of poem is:
O YE DEATH! COME WITH ME,
I WANT TO RIDE ON YOUR BACK,
FOR MY UNSEEN JOURNEY!
I challenge the poets of today to write a single poem of such a death even if they are the most learned ones!
That was an illuminating article, Mr. Ferndale. Probably you are encountering a society which has turned religion itself into art. By that I mean, the perfection to carry on with the spirit of the commandment through obliterating anything that is not literally prescribed in the Text. Music and dance, poetry and film, painting and sculpture are certainly dispensable compared to the Verses. May be the sartorial uniformity in the form of Burqas or the insistence of at least a stubble to foster purity could also be an artistic expression of a universal genre within that society.