If it’s Thursday it must be Lahore
Mario Rodrigues in Lahore; published in the Statesman (Kolkata, India)
Jan. 15. — Remember that popular Hollywood movie and ditty of 1969, If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium? Well, twist the lyrics around a little bit and you can come up with something appropriate for the local situation: If it’s Thursday, it must be Lahore. This is the day when the rich culture of this historic and mystical city comes alive, drowning it in a vibe of sound and music.
The day kicks off in the afternoon at the shrine of Data Ganj Baksh Hajveri [sic; Hujwiri] (Bestower of Treasures), a 11th century Sufi mystic renowned for his concern for the poor, outside the old city. Some of the best quawwali singers from far and near, including the legendary Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, turned up to pay their dues here. The best qawwalis come onstage later in the evening after the opening acts have warmed things up.
After nightfall, the rhythms explode into a thundering crescendo at the “Sufi nights” staged at the ramshackle shrine of Baba Shah Jamal, a 19th century saint. At the quadrangles adjoining the shrine, some of the most famed Pakistani percussionists, including the famous Gonga and Mithu Saeen brother duo, beat out a frenetic tattoo on their dhols that transports the often doped Sufi devotees, whirling in their ritual reveries, into the seventh heavens. The “spiritual smoke’’ that helps the Sufis on their way to a drumming nirvana in Pakistan is somewhat akin to what the Rastafarians ingest in Jamaica over as they find release in the throbbing rhythms of reggae.
If you somehow miss the action on Thursdays, you can hopefully catch it belatedly at the Regale Internet Inn on The Mall, courtesy its urbane owner, Malik Karamat Shams, a former journalist and press aide of former Pakistani PM Ms Benazir Bhutto. He knows all the best musicians in town and can arrange for them to come over and jam on his terrace at a mere request. The Saeen brothers, the roving minstrel Sain Zahoor and a host of equal or lesser talents have enthralled discerning audiences here.
After Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan conquered the West, Pakistan’s eclectic artistes have come to the attention of global audiences in a big way. India, too, has become a happy stomping ground for the likes of the now waning Junoon, Strings, Ali Zafar, Fuzon, Rahaat Fateh Ali Khan and a few more, some of whom even cross the border for their launches.
Malik’s own story is as fascinating as the many heartwarming tales he can spin out in the course of an extended conversation. Editor of the family owned paper Inquilab, the technologically-inclined Malik began the first internet café in Lahore some ten years ago. When pressed for a name, a ‘Jung’ media group crony suggested that he call it an Internet Inn rather than a café, which people would otherwise mistake for a coffee house.
The first guest he attracted was an American filmmaker, Brad, who stayed for three years making documentaries on the Pakistani film industry, Sufi music and prostitutes in Muslim society. Brad was put up on a bed in Malik’s editor’s cabin. Because of the Internet connection, guests started dropping in one by one — so much so, even while Malik was interviewing some top politicians in his cabin, tourists kept popping in to ask for accommodation. That was when he decided to move his newspaper office and start his guest house catering exclusively to bagpackers.
Malik bemoans the plight of musicians in an Islamic society which does not acknowledge the presence of music in daily life. He cites the example of the renowned music director, Nazir Ali, who provided music for 357 films but was nevertheless so poor that he could not even afford to offer tea to his guests.
Bringing films into the ambit of the discussion, Malik avers, “In the 1970s, we produced some 300 films. Last year we produced only 21,” offering two reasons for the decline of the Pakistani film and music industry. One, domination by Bollywood and two, the rule of General Zia ul Haque who snuffed out popular culture by his orthodoxy.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
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Wednesday, February 15, 2006
If It's Tuesday It Must Be Lahore: Sufi Music and the "scene" in Lahore
If it’s Thursday it must be Lahore
Mario Rodrigues in Lahore; published in the Statesman (Kolkata, India)
Jan. 15. — Remember that popular Hollywood movie and ditty of 1969, If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium? Well, twist the lyrics around a little bit and you can come up with something appropriate for the local situation: If it’s Thursday, it must be Lahore. This is the day when the rich culture of this historic and mystical city comes alive, drowning it in a vibe of sound and music.
The day kicks off in the afternoon at the shrine of Data Ganj Baksh Hajveri [sic; Hujwiri] (Bestower of Treasures), a 11th century Sufi mystic renowned for his concern for the poor, outside the old city. Some of the best quawwali singers from far and near, including the legendary Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, turned up to pay their dues here. The best qawwalis come onstage later in the evening after the opening acts have warmed things up.
After nightfall, the rhythms explode into a thundering crescendo at the “Sufi nights” staged at the ramshackle shrine of Baba Shah Jamal, a 19th century saint. At the quadrangles adjoining the shrine, some of the most famed Pakistani percussionists, including the famous Gonga and Mithu Saeen brother duo, beat out a frenetic tattoo on their dhols that transports the often doped Sufi devotees, whirling in their ritual reveries, into the seventh heavens. The “spiritual smoke’’ that helps the Sufis on their way to a drumming nirvana in Pakistan is somewhat akin to what the Rastafarians ingest in Jamaica over as they find release in the throbbing rhythms of reggae.
If you somehow miss the action on Thursdays, you can hopefully catch it belatedly at the Regale Internet Inn on The Mall, courtesy its urbane owner, Malik Karamat Shams, a former journalist and press aide of former Pakistani PM Ms Benazir Bhutto. He knows all the best musicians in town and can arrange for them to come over and jam on his terrace at a mere request. The Saeen brothers, the roving minstrel Sain Zahoor and a host of equal or lesser talents have enthralled discerning audiences here.
After Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan conquered the West, Pakistan’s eclectic artistes have come to the attention of global audiences in a big way. India, too, has become a happy stomping ground for the likes of the now waning Junoon, Strings, Ali Zafar, Fuzon, Rahaat Fateh Ali Khan and a few more, some of whom even cross the border for their launches.
Malik’s own story is as fascinating as the many heartwarming tales he can spin out in the course of an extended conversation. Editor of the family owned paper Inquilab, the technologically-inclined Malik began the first internet café in Lahore some ten years ago. When pressed for a name, a ‘Jung’ media group crony suggested that he call it an Internet Inn rather than a café, which people would otherwise mistake for a coffee house.
The first guest he attracted was an American filmmaker, Brad, who stayed for three years making documentaries on the Pakistani film industry, Sufi music and prostitutes in Muslim society. Brad was put up on a bed in Malik’s editor’s cabin. Because of the Internet connection, guests started dropping in one by one — so much so, even while Malik was interviewing some top politicians in his cabin, tourists kept popping in to ask for accommodation. That was when he decided to move his newspaper office and start his guest house catering exclusively to bagpackers.
Malik bemoans the plight of musicians in an Islamic society which does not acknowledge the presence of music in daily life. He cites the example of the renowned music director, Nazir Ali, who provided music for 357 films but was nevertheless so poor that he could not even afford to offer tea to his guests.
Bringing films into the ambit of the discussion, Malik avers, “In the 1970s, we produced some 300 films. Last year we produced only 21,” offering two reasons for the decline of the Pakistani film and music industry. One, domination by Bollywood and two, the rule of General Zia ul Haque who snuffed out popular culture by his orthodoxy.
Mario Rodrigues in Lahore; published in the Statesman (Kolkata, India)
Jan. 15. — Remember that popular Hollywood movie and ditty of 1969, If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium? Well, twist the lyrics around a little bit and you can come up with something appropriate for the local situation: If it’s Thursday, it must be Lahore. This is the day when the rich culture of this historic and mystical city comes alive, drowning it in a vibe of sound and music.
The day kicks off in the afternoon at the shrine of Data Ganj Baksh Hajveri [sic; Hujwiri] (Bestower of Treasures), a 11th century Sufi mystic renowned for his concern for the poor, outside the old city. Some of the best quawwali singers from far and near, including the legendary Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, turned up to pay their dues here. The best qawwalis come onstage later in the evening after the opening acts have warmed things up.
After nightfall, the rhythms explode into a thundering crescendo at the “Sufi nights” staged at the ramshackle shrine of Baba Shah Jamal, a 19th century saint. At the quadrangles adjoining the shrine, some of the most famed Pakistani percussionists, including the famous Gonga and Mithu Saeen brother duo, beat out a frenetic tattoo on their dhols that transports the often doped Sufi devotees, whirling in their ritual reveries, into the seventh heavens. The “spiritual smoke’’ that helps the Sufis on their way to a drumming nirvana in Pakistan is somewhat akin to what the Rastafarians ingest in Jamaica over as they find release in the throbbing rhythms of reggae.
If you somehow miss the action on Thursdays, you can hopefully catch it belatedly at the Regale Internet Inn on The Mall, courtesy its urbane owner, Malik Karamat Shams, a former journalist and press aide of former Pakistani PM Ms Benazir Bhutto. He knows all the best musicians in town and can arrange for them to come over and jam on his terrace at a mere request. The Saeen brothers, the roving minstrel Sain Zahoor and a host of equal or lesser talents have enthralled discerning audiences here.
After Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan conquered the West, Pakistan’s eclectic artistes have come to the attention of global audiences in a big way. India, too, has become a happy stomping ground for the likes of the now waning Junoon, Strings, Ali Zafar, Fuzon, Rahaat Fateh Ali Khan and a few more, some of whom even cross the border for their launches.
Malik’s own story is as fascinating as the many heartwarming tales he can spin out in the course of an extended conversation. Editor of the family owned paper Inquilab, the technologically-inclined Malik began the first internet café in Lahore some ten years ago. When pressed for a name, a ‘Jung’ media group crony suggested that he call it an Internet Inn rather than a café, which people would otherwise mistake for a coffee house.
The first guest he attracted was an American filmmaker, Brad, who stayed for three years making documentaries on the Pakistani film industry, Sufi music and prostitutes in Muslim society. Brad was put up on a bed in Malik’s editor’s cabin. Because of the Internet connection, guests started dropping in one by one — so much so, even while Malik was interviewing some top politicians in his cabin, tourists kept popping in to ask for accommodation. That was when he decided to move his newspaper office and start his guest house catering exclusively to bagpackers.
Malik bemoans the plight of musicians in an Islamic society which does not acknowledge the presence of music in daily life. He cites the example of the renowned music director, Nazir Ali, who provided music for 357 films but was nevertheless so poor that he could not even afford to offer tea to his guests.
Bringing films into the ambit of the discussion, Malik avers, “In the 1970s, we produced some 300 films. Last year we produced only 21,” offering two reasons for the decline of the Pakistani film and music industry. One, domination by Bollywood and two, the rule of General Zia ul Haque who snuffed out popular culture by his orthodoxy.
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