Wednesday, Sep 25, 2013

I had goosebumps listening to Tina Sani singing Allama Iqbal’s Shikwa Jawaab-e-Shikwa on YouTube for the first time a few days ago. Needless to say I was unaware of the ghazal singer until the announcement of her show this Friday as I’ve only recently realised my own interest in Urdu poetry.

However, Sani is a familiar name amongst Urdu poetry lovers in the UAE, a number which is not as vast as that for any another genre. Being a singer in an art form that’s dwindling in popularity throughout following generations, Sani is still positive.

“Fusion will happen. There will be one-world language in the future. Wasn’t that what we always wanted?” she said over a long distance phone call. “But I think when cultures get merged, they will take on new nuances, and some of the old world people like us would not like to let it go. It’s natural to be resistant. As someone who sings in pure Urdu I feel that like classical music, ghazal singing has become an acquired taste”.

A late bloomer in the field of classical music, Sani had the opportunity to train under ghazal maestro Mehdi Hassan.

“I had a great time. My father was a businessman who loved classical music and he would have loved to see me emerge as a classical singer but I started late in life. I think I was 18-19 when I became keen and had my first ustad [teacher]. I was living in times of great change. Some of the grand masters whom I drew inspiration from were still alive in India and Pakistan. Mehdi Hassan sahab, Farida Khanam, Iqbal Bano… and the likes of Ghulam Ali and Amanat Ali sahab,

“I was living in a world that was changing politically as well. That’s why I relate more to the political poet rather than the typically romantic poet that was Faiz (Ahmad Faiz)”.

On Friday Sani will not just be singing Faiz but some of Rumi’s and Allama Iqbal’s qalams (writings), including Shikwa Jawaab-e-Shikwa. Agreeing that the poetry is not easily understandable by all, Sani makes sure the audience is always provided a copy of the translations for all the ghazals she’d be singing.

“I’m no linguist by any measure but as a musician I’ve found Urdu-speaking people who really understand and appreciate it all over the world, though only in smaller circles it. I feel language commands respect.

[Rumi’s poetry is difficult to understand] because there’s a lot of symbolism involved. When I started reading portions of his Masnavi, I’d force myself to understand at least part of what he was saying rather than just using translations in Arabic. Then I managed to find a translation in Urdu which had been versified, something I could sing, even though it had a bit of Farsi. One of my finest concerts was in Chennai. I asked the gentleman who invited me whether he was aware I sing only in Urdu and if language is going to be a barrier. He said no, we want our people to listen to all kinds of music. What was wonderful was this was in in South India, something people like us don’t have access to being primarily of north Indian origin. That was a learning experience because when I sang Faiz, I received such an incredible reaction even though I’d only translated the verses before singing them. Same thing happens when I sing Rumi.

“I think for a lot of us language is a barrier, not people. People are shy of Rumi because they won’t understand. But Masnavi is just a bunch of little stories that teach you how to behave better in life and what to do in stressful, tough times and good times. Also there’s so much on the internet on Rumi that’s easily understandable that you don’t need to actually pick up his diwan (tome) itself. What I’m bringing for Rumi is not Masnavi but Navai which is the song of the reed which represents the common concept of man as sorrowful at some level. The story is about nay or reed in Farsi which is lamenting and wants to go back to its source. And we all want to go back to our greatest source. For Iqbal’s Shikwa, I’m using a translation by Indian writer Khushwant Singh, even though there are so many translations, but I like his the most.

Yet, it’s Faiz she relates to the most.

“I have seen a lot of political upheaval. I’ve travelled a lot and grew up in a lot of different places. Faiz has touched my soul most because I always felt my questions were more universal than regional. He also polarises the world in many ways, where people have forgotten there is a greater entity called the human being. And yet with the coming of the 90s everything changed, with the internet, with the world shrinking yet separating in many ways also. In times like this Faiz’s poetry helped me tremendously in understanding myself.”

Belonging to a singing genre where there aren’t as many women as men, Sani feels it’s because at some level, there’s a stigma attached to it.

“Eighteen to nineteen hundred years ago, when poets were trying to find a singer in Urdu, they found them in the courtesans on the kothas [brothels], whose profession it was to sing and dance. And these women were not held in high regard. This possibly hurt the art a lot for people like us in the sub continent where women are still perceived as homemakers and you don’t want your daughters to be associated with this.

“Personally, the 1980s have brought us some really good time for people like me who really respect this art form and even though it was restricted to the realm of kothas for the longest time. We’ve always felt why only a certain kind of people should have a monopoly on this and as we were growing up, we saw a growing acceptance towards it through television and education. As the caste system started disappearing, the art form started emerging through the clutches of all that. Yet this is only one reason why the genre lacks female singers”.

Box: Don’t miss it

Tina Sani pays tribute to Rumi, Iqbal and Faiz on Friday, September 27, at Meydan IMAX from 8pm, doors open 7pm.

Tickets priced at Dh350 (silver), Dh500 (gold) and Dh750 (platinum). Call 050-5081904/050-4216601.

By Manjari Saxena Deputy Editor The weekend tabloid!

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