Ghazals and Hariharan

I was commissioned to write an article about ghazals in 2016 for NCPA’s On Stage magazine. The editor wanted me to write a brief history of ghazals: a raga-based semi-classical singing style that focuses on lyrics that are written in the Urdu language. The article was a prelude to a ghazal concert by eminent singer Hariharan and therefore I also needed to interview him. Ghazal is an ancient form of poetry that originated in the 12th century. I read countless articles and literature and condensed all that information into 1000 words about ghazals. Hariharan was a delight to interview. I met him in the music room of his office in Mumbai where chatted about everything music. Below is the complete article as it appeared in the July 2016 issue of On Stage.

The History of Ghazals
From Mughal courts to modern auditoriums

Tracing the history of anything to do with literature or music is like walking through a fluid maze of time and space. Influences and inventions are swiftly picked up without barriers of geography or time, rendering it chronologically incoherent – but then, rigidity has seldom been favoured by music lovers. The ghazal is known to have organically evolved from the nasib – a minor prelude to the ode-like, three-part qasida, a form of poetry dating back to pre-Islamic Arabia. The opening of qasida was usually a nostalgic description of the homeland that the poet had left, followed by the nasib in which he would elucidate the intensity of his longing, especially in context to his beloved. This is the source from which ghazal writing assumed its initial character of describing love for a woman. By the 7th century, various components of the qasida were isolated and composed independent of each other, the nasib then taking on a more evolved form of the ghazal.

GHAZAL’S INDIA SOJOURN

Close to the 12th century, ghazal reciting had become a popular form of entertainment in courts. Touching many foreign shores, ghazals were adapted into Turkish and Urdu poetry besides the usual Arabic and Persian. This was the time when ghazal entered the Indian subcontinent. While poets all over the world, such as Sa’di, Anwari and Hafiz were still carving and shaping their literary prowess in ghazal writing, Amir Khusro of the Delhi sultanate was eclipsing them all with his ingenuity in ghazals, qasidas and masnavis, in Persian and Hindavi (what we know as Braj bhasha), even outshining them with the volume of his works. (The sum of his couplets ran in lakhs.)

Even though ghazals had been imported and continued to be written and recited in Persian in the courts of North India, they took on the colour of Urdu as they traversed down South. A language of literary prominence under the Golconda and Bijapur rulers, Urdu poetry found favour with the rulers and their masses.

DIWAN-E-GHALIB

During the final years of the Mughal rule, around the 18th century, widening the scope of ghazals was a name oft repeated – Mirza Ghalib. He wrote of the mysteries of life and the agonies of human existence, fusing god and man in the same verse at times.

With the 18th century and the tawaif tradition of courts, song and dance became the mainstay, and the conversational form of ghazal was set to music. Sustainable musical trends are those that lend themselves freely to experimentation. The death of the tawaif tradition, fortunately, did not spell doom for ghazal singing. It was picked up again in the 20th century, this time, for its ornate Urdu poetry and the fact that it required the listener to have a deeper understanding of nuances in language and technicalities of classical singing.

Begum Akhtar (1914-1974) is credited for, or rather, was accused of, profanity with regard to the ghazal. What we now reminisce fondly in her qimam-soaked voice was once frowned upon because she dared to break tradition and sang ghazal poetry in thumri and dadra, which was until then limited to khayal. Her soulful rendition and choice of ghazals, however, soon propelled her to the rightly deserved title of ‘Mallika-e-Ghazal’ (Queen of Ghazals). Mehdi Hassan, on the other side of the border (Pakistan), was simultaneously creating musical waves with his silken voice. Such was the popularity of his rendition of ‘Gulon mein rang bhare’ that the writer of the ghazal, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, stopped reciting the poem at mushairas, saying, “Yeh toh Mehdi saab ki ghazal hai, aap unhi se suniye.” “This is Mehdi saab’s ghazal, you must listen to his rendition.”

IN GLAMOROUS GARB

The advent of ghazals in Hindi cinema was inevitable. A form of poetry that celebrated unconditional, unrequited, unreciprocated love – all resonated with the dramatic format of films. Beginning with K. L. Saigal, followed by Mohammad Rafi, Mukesh, Suraiya and Shamshad Begum, ghazal singers in Hindi movies grew exponentially, as did a parallel genre of music called ‘gair-filmi geet’ (non-film songs). Writers such as Sahir Ludhianvi, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Jigar Moradabadi, Hasrat Jaipuri, Shakeel Badayuni and Jan Nisar Akhtar added an Urdu flair to Hindi film music that left listeners yearning for more intricately woven poetry.

The appeal of ghazals among masses increased manifold after the release of Jagjit and Chitra Singh’s album, The Unforgettables, in 1977. Following this, many ghazal singers gained momentum and fame, also prompting the younger generation to take up ghazal singing. Despite scoffs by purists, the genre continued to assume new avatars with every singer, some of the most renowned being Pankaj Udhas, Hariharan, Talat Aziz, Farida Khanum, Bhupinder and Mitali Singh and Ghulam Ali.

THE INTERVIEW

Rightly so, around the time that ghazals were starting to become a much revered musical art, a young lad of about 17 began training himself in khayal singing and Urdu, defying his Carnatic background. This boy we know today as Hariharan, who has 55 albums boasting 300 ghazals to his credit. All set to perform at NCPA Bandish, the supremely calm and light-hearted Hariharan spoke to ON Stage about his upcoming performance.

What attracted you to ghazals?
I felt that my thinking, bhava and imagination were better suited to ghazal than any other form of singing. A ghazal is spoken in sur. That conversational element comes very easily to me. I started learning the khayal gayaki from Ustad Ghulam Mustafa Khan saab when I was 17. My ustad composed my first album called Ghazal ka Mausam in 1980. In the interim, I met Mehdi Hassan saab who I regard as my ‘ruhaani guru’ [soul guru]. Such was his affection that despite ill health, he came for my 50th birthday to Bombay. On that blessed day I performed for all my three gurus – my mother [renowned Carnatic music teacher Alamelu Mani], Ustad Ghulam Mustafa Khan and Mehdi Hassan.

You introduced the Urdu Blues (fusing Urdu poetry with Western instrumentation). How can you experiment so much with ghazal singing?

Due to the fact that there was far more receptivity towards ghazals, one could experiment and offer a lot more at the time. My attempt has always been to do something creatively fulfilling in the now rather than mull over the past. As a singer, it would become difficult to connect with the pulse of the youth if you don’t reinvent yourself.

You performed with Zakir Hussain at San Jose recently. How was the experience?
It was wonderful. We managed to give five performances in ten days. And Zakir Bhai is a marvellous artiste. The way he anchors a ghazal, especially those with tricky rhythmic structures is par excellence. He sings with the song on his tabla. I love singing with him because he throws things at me, and I like those kinds of challenges.

Before a ghazal concert, is there a specific manner in which you prepare?
I try and find out the taste of the audience. For a more discerning lot, I pick some rare ghazals; if they happen to be the sort who prefer light music, I prepare my song list accordingly. In the end, they have to be happy. Also, I take an hour-long nap before every concert. It’s a practice I’ve followed since a very long time. Once I get that hour’s rest, I’m a lion. I do my riyaaz in the classical style by singing aakars, paltas, sargams, ragas. These are musical exercises for your vocal chords. No riyaaz is done by singing only ghazals.

Is there anything that irks you at a concert?

I don’t enjoy performing if there are kids in the first row! They’re cute but distracting nonetheless. While performing ghazals you need silence to get a hold on that audience receptivity. Phones are other incessant irritants. You see, a ghazal mehfil, even though comprising 2000 people, is a mehfil where there’s an intimate connect between the singer and the audience. It’s like how some orators make you feel as if they’re talking only to you. That is the art of mehfil singing, which can be achieved only after years of performing live.

Who are your preferred ghazal writers?

The great Ghalib whose poetry I’m going to be singing for the NCPA concert. Also Mir Taki Mir. I’ve sung a lot of Shahryar’s poetry in the past; Bashir Badr, Munawwar Rana are other favourites. While recording my album Lahore ke Rang Hari ke Sang, I got the opportunity to compose poems of many eminent writers of Pakistan like Ahmed Faraz, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, and so on.

Listen to my Ghazal special episode