“Bazm”, the annual ghazal event instituted by poet Ameeta Parsuram in New Delhi, is set to celebrate its 10th edition this evening. The landmark coincides with the centenary of Kaifi Azmi, and the evening begins with a tribute to the celebrated poet. It will be a three-tiered affair, the second part being a mushaira featuring young Urdu poets in their 20s, and the third a concert by popular ghazal singer Jaswinder Singh – who will sing ghazals of Kaifi Azmi as well as other poets.
Ameeta, who goes by the pen name Meeta, has dedicated her energies to popularising the ghazal, and over the past decade she has felt a change in audience response. If earlier she was asked by well wishers why she was sinking her money in an unpopular, outmoded medium, she now proudly counts among her acquaintances and university students youngsters who have developed a taste for the poetry, the music and the language of this art.
Veteran actor and social activist Shabana Azmi, among the celebrities that have backed Ameeta in her effort to champion the ghazal, will be the chief guest at the event that pays tribute to her father. “I congratulate Ameeta on her commitment to the ghazal,” says Shabana. “It’s been 10 years since Bazm started and she has succeeded in expanding her audience.”
Taste for aesthetics
Shabana Azmi
She notes, “It is important to popularise the ghazal but curating the show to separate the wheat from the chaff is equally important so you develop a taste for aesthetics.”
One wonders, in today’s India where the arts are mostly considered hobbies for the well heeled, while the major occupation for everyone else is to make a living, how can a refined art like the writing and performing of the Ghazal, requiring years of dedication, thrive?
Ameeta, a professor of psychology at Delhi University, feels, “We have the Maslow theory which says at first all basic needs should be met and only then a person will go towards aesthetics – that art is a need which comes much later. But that is not the basis for saying that this is meant only for moneyed people.” The connection with the “ruh”, she says, has nothing to do with socio-economics. In villages we see labourers and farmers coming together to share creativity through song and dance and storytelling. “Where have folk music, dance arts, storytelling, come from,” she asks. “It transcends all money barriers. I think it’s just a mythical thought.”
Shabana points out, “Art is not separate from life. The biggest contribution of the Progressive Writers Movement and IPTA was that they turned lofty concepts of art into subjects of everyday reality. The sweat on the brow of a peasant woman, the rough hands of a labourer working in the mills became symbols of beauty. Along the way, however, we lost this connect. We must strive to bring this connect back and realise that art is required to give true meaning to our lives. Educational institutes, corporate bodies, individual efforts can help.”
Kaifi was known for seamlessly blending the aesthetic requirements of poetry with an activist’s messages for the common citizen. In the current turbulent times of polarisation and violence, the naysayers would call it naïve to believe arts like poetry and music could raise awareness in society.
Shabana contends, “Now, more than ever is the time to remind ourselves that art should be used as an instrument for social change. Kaifi was a product of the Communist Party and the PWA. These were people tuned to the sounds of a different drummer. In celebrating Kaifi’s life we also celebrate the times in which he and his colleagues functioned. Today some celebrities give a sound byte on an issue and are satisfied they have done their bit. But people like Kaifi were foot soldiers who worked in the trenches. There was no dichotomy in Kaifi’s words and actions. I think music and poetry have the capacity to create a climate of sensitivity in which it is possible for change to occur.”
Ameeta adds, “Ghazal is probably the strongest medium in poetry to create social awakening. Because of the nature of the poetry.” In a ghazal, she explains, an entire philosophy can be encapsulated in a single couplet. “It’s very comprehensive,” she says. Moreover, “The ghazal touches people’s heart. So the message grips your heart and gets your total attention. I don’t think any external effort can reduce the negativity which is prevailing. Ghazal is the language of the heart, and psychologists know that unless your feelings change, no amount of cerebral change can bring any effect. So that is the power ghazal has, to speak to your feelings, and because it has a dialogue with your heart it can change your feelings.”
Perhaps, it was indeed a more emotional time that Kaifi and his generation lived through, when people from all walks of life actively contributed to nation-building. In India and the world today, with materialism and individual success weighing more heavily with most than the spirit of sacrifice and struggle, artists, like others, are often tempted to work only ‘for the sake of art’ rather than for the various causes that remain unresolved among India’s teeming millions.
Asked how she views her own and other artists’ efforts to rise to the needs of society, Shabana replies, “It is really an individual’s choice. It is valid for some to think of art for art’s sake and others to use art as a catalyst for change. I respect both viewpoints. But as the daughter of my parents Shaukat and Kaifi and raised in a commune till the age of nine, it was inevitable that I would choose the path I did.
There are many artistes who are deeply invested in the society around them and use their art to raise public consciousness. An artist’s resource base must be life itself. It follows then that inevitably an artist will question why is there social injustice? Why equal opportunity is not available for all sections of society?”
Yet again, Kaifi’s age was an age of Hindustani, when the common citizens mixed Hindi and Urdu freely. Today Urdu has been relegated to a far slimmer linguistic segment. The quality of the ghazal depends on a felicitous use of language, and its widespread appreciation depends on a knowledgeable audience.
Ameeta agrees, “People are not connected with Urdu like they used to be. It has been a big challenge with me even in Bazm, selecting ghazals.”
And even as she mentions how singers explain the meaning of obscure words in their sher to enhance audience enjoyment, she underlines, “Poetry is not dependent on using big words.”
And so, although the news may be filled with words that wreak havoc like missiles, let’s lend an ear, for a change, to the language of the heart.
(At Kamani auditorium, Mandi House, New Delhi, 6 p.m.)