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During the Jashn-e-Khusrau Festival, this legacy of syncretism is remembered in different ways: through performances of qawwalis from qawwals belonging to different khanqahi traditions; discussions with the singers to explore the nuances of their repertoire which consists largely of the songs, qawwalis, poetry in Persian, Braj and Hindavi composed by Amir Khusrau; heritage walks in the historically-rich area by volunteers from among the basti’s youth; as well as academic discussions and paper presentations.
A lasting documentation of the event is a handsomely-produced and profusely illustrated coffee-table book, Jashn-e-Khusrau: A Collection (Roli Books), brings together performers, academics, activists, conservationists, musicologists, historians. The first section, comprising a selection of three essays, focuses on: the literary aspect of Khusrau’s work; the musicology of the qawwali tradition; and the patronage of this centuries-old tradition by Sunil Sharma, Regula Qureshi and Irfan Zuberi, respectively. This is followed by transliterations and translations of the kalaam itself, presented with the girehs as sung by the qawwals. However, what makes this book truly a collector’s item, are the set of three Cds of qawwalis, each containing vintage sufiana kalam: Mun Kunto Maula, Tori Surat ke Balihari Nijam, Kahe ko Biyahi Bides, Teri re Main to Charnan Lagi, Eidgah-e Ma Ghariban, Chashm-e Mast-e Ajabi, Aaj Tona Main Aisa Banaungi`85 The CDs in themselves are enough reason to buy this book for where else do you get to hear such kalaam? What is more, where else can you get such a selection of qawwalis sung by the real qawwal bachchas now scattered in different cities, now belonging to different khanqahs. When Nizamuddin Auliya died in 1325 at the venerable age of 87, mad with grief, Khusrau wrote: Gori sowe sej par mukh pe dare kes Chal Khusro ghar aapne, rain bhayi pardes (The beloved sleeps upon her couch, her face covered with her tresses Come, Khusro, let us go home, for night falls in these strange lands) Seven centuries later, the area around the hospice continues to be venerated, people continue to flock to the bustling dargah that came up around the grave of the Sufi master and to the small shrine of Amir Khusrau who lies buried nearby. What is more, Khusrau’s words live in the music of the qawwals. A book such as this is a fitting tribute to an enduring legacy of love and longing that transcends the here and now.
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