By Z.G.Muhammad
Our childhood was full of rhythm and cadence. On looking back, sometimes for their cheerfulness, I feel envious of my childhood and the childhood of children of a wholegeneration born in the fifties. Despite the voices of the dissent then also asphyxiated and atmosphere of insecurity looming large, the beats, bells, and whistles soared in our hearts with joy. It was jingling and chinking of bells of goats and ewes and whistles of goatherds from the shepherd Mohalla, near my school, that woke us up in the wee morning hours. Or, it was lilting tunes of Santoor and Saz-e-Kashmir, coming out of baithaks of some of the elite houses at a distance that made us toss aside our quilts. It was haunting melodies coming out of the flute of jilted lover Gul Muhammad in the late evening, which made us peep through a latticed window into the street to see his fingers dancing on the flute. For many years, till his what I would love to call ‘Keats’s death, it was a routine for this young man to walk on the street outside our home playing melancholic-melodious tunes on his flute – he returned from…………. when we were in bed.
Music, during our childhood, was a part of us; it was part of our all festive occasions- social and religious. It was part of our mystic experiences, penance processions, and collective supplications. Of all the musicians, it was Surnaivoul– the clarinet player our Benny Goodman and Pied Piper. He made us, all children of the Mohalla, jump and jostle and followed him to every home. On Eids, and other religious festivals, in the early morning hours, accompanied by a turbaneddrummer, sometimes by a bacha, a boy dancer dressed in a girl dress arrived in our Mohalla. For bacha nagana, being a legacy from the Afghan rule and patronized notoriously by then the powers in the State in our childhood, many people did not recognize it as a part of our folk but saw it as decadent. On Eid, the Surnaivoul and his team of artists arrived immediately after the morning prayers- perhaps they made it to the city from different villages one day earlier. On entering our compound, a drummer hit his drum with his drum stick louder than usual, till children gathered around him. Then the Surnaivoul, to the accompaniment of drum beats, played on his clarinet first a nait- a hymn in praise of the Prophet, followed by some melodic folk songs and songs of Rasul Mir, like Cholhama Roshay Roshay Roshay, Posha Madano. To the annoyance of elders, my friends and I followed them into many homes and enjoyed the music. Out of eagerness, I sometimes requested our folk musicians to allow me to play the clarinet- on occasion, they obliged. Every home paid them for their performance in cash or kind— a one rupee coin with King George’s image embossed on it or a bowl of rice.
The clarinet players and drummers in our childhood were an important part of our social milieu and cultural landscape. Today, many sects see it as a pagan practice, but in our young days, during floods, famine, drought, and other calamities taking a “penance procession to the Astana of Hazrat Sultan and making ‘collective supplications’ in open ground or at the Astanas of various saints were a routine. The clarinet players and Dumhal Faqir were always part of this ‘penance procession’. The Dumhal Faqir supplicated to Allah to end natural calamities in their style. People strongly believed that their supplications were granted favourably for their innocence and absolute faith in the Almighty.
The contingents of Surnaiplayers used to be part of the Martyrs Day processions and other functions of the State…..
Z.G.Muhammad is a noted writer and columnist
