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Music: Tabla master Sandeep Das & Kayhan Kalhor

16 May 2015

Tabla master Sandeep Das joins multiple Grammy nominee and co-founder of Masters of Persian Music Kayhan Kalhor following their March D.C. appearance with Silk Road Ensemble 
Kalhor018(AliBoustan)
The U.S. does not boast many kamancheh (Persian spike fiddle) performers, let alone any in the same league as Kayhan Kalhor. He is, quite simply, the most internationally acclaimed master of this instrument, which produces a broad range of sounds, from an almost percussive bark to a sweet, throaty tone. The Tehran-born Kalhor closes out Washington Performing Arts’ season-long exploration of the Silk Road, performing with artists from other countries on the historic Silk Road, on Saturday, May 16, 2015 at 8pm at Sixth & I Historic Synagogue. Kalhor is joined by his Silk Road Ensemble colleague, renowned table master Sandeep Das. This is the second time this season that D.C. audiences will be treated to Kalhor and Das’ inimitable style. Their Jugalbandi was peformed at the lauded March 1, 2015, Washington Performing Arts presentation of Yo-Yo Ma’s Silk Road Ensemble, of which Kalhor and Das are original members and frequent collaborators. (more…)

Kal bhi woh darte the

11 December 2014

A few lines I wrote after Malala’s
Nobel and some of the reactions of Pakistanis on social media

MalalaKailash

(English translit. below)

کل بھی وہ ڈرتے تھے
نہتی لڑکیوں سے
آج بھی نالاں ہیں
وہی مذہب کے بیوپاری
اہک ننھی ملالہ سے!
وہ جھوٹے دعوے کرنے والے
وہ بے ایمانی کے سوداگر
دہشت کے پجاری
کیا تم جانتے نہیں؟
یہ ننھی بچیاں
تم کو ہر بار شکست دیں گی!
یہ بھی سچ ہے کہ
ابھی دور ہے حق کی جیت
اس میں بھی مات تمھاری
تم گولیاں برسا کر بھی
بازی ہار گۓ

ابھی بہت سے موسمِ بارود گزرنے ہيں
ابھی ملالہ کو جلا وطن رہنا ہے
اور کوۓ ملامت کو سنبھلنا ہے
لمبا ، کٹھن سفر ہے باقی
اور کچھ ہو نہ ہو
تمہاری شکست کی آواز
تمھاری بزدلی کے چرچے
سارے جہاں میں عام ہو گۓ
ایک نہتی لڑکی نے
پھر سے ہرا دیا

سب بندوق والوں کو
بندوق دینے والوں کو
بندوقیں ماننے والوں کو

Kal bhi woh darte theMalalaKailash2
Nihati laRkiyoN se
Aaj bhi nalaaN haiN
Aik nanhi Malala se!
Wohi Mazhab ke beopari
Woh Jhoote daawe karne wale
Woh be-aimani ke saudagar
Dashat ke pujari
Kiya tum jante nahiN?
Yeh nanhi bachiaN
Tum ko har baar shikast deiN gi!
Yeh bhi sach hai keh
Abhi door hai haq ki Jeet
Is meiN bhi maat tumhari
Tum goliyaan barsa kar bhi
Baazi haar gaye
Abhe bohot se mausam-e barood guzarne haiN
Abhe Malala ko jilaawatan rehna hai
Aur koo-e malamat ko sanmbhalna hai
Lamba, kathan safar hai baaqi
Aur kuch ho nah ho
Tumhari shikast ki awaz
Tumhari buzdali ke charche
Saare jahaN meiN aam ho gaye
Ik nihati laRki ne
phir se Hara diya
Sab bandooq waloN ko
Bandooq dene waloN ko
Bandoqen manane waloN ko

‘Hum Bhatak bhi Gaye au Kia Hoga’

12 November 2014

After a long time, I attempted to write a poem. Here it is – pretty raw and unpolished. Will translate it later for readers who may not understand the language. It is entitled —
(so what if I went astray..)

Tum apni dunya kay baasi

Hum apni chah kay aseer
Milay jo ik din
Anjani rah per
Dekhna yeh hai keh
Who rah jis peh safar
Dushwar hi nahin
Shayad namumkin ho
Kis moR peh ja niklay
Ya phir
Kaun pehlay rastah badal day
Yeh hua bhi to
Koi ‘Nai’ baat nah hogi
Sun rakha hai
Muhabbat baad mein hogi
Jo mil nah saken
In ki yaad mein hogi
Hum Musafir-e-Dil
Bhtakna Jantay hain
Dil gariftah, Dil Nawaz
Hawadis aashna
Yeh bhi jantay hain
Muhabbat na bhi mile to
Hijr kay phool
Sanbhalna jantay hain

تم اپنی دنیا کے باسی
ہم اپنی چاہ کے اسیر
ملے جو اک دن
انجانی راہ پر
دیکھنا یہ ہے کہ
وہ راہ جس پہ سفر
دشوار ہی نہيں
شاید نا ممکن ہو
کس موڑ پہ جا نکلے
یا پھر
کون پہلے رستہ بدل دے
یہ ہوا بھی تو
کوئی ‘نئی’ بات نہ ہو گی
سن رکھا ہے
محبت بعد ميں ہوگی
جو مل نہ سکیں
ان کی یاد ميں ہوگی
ہم مسافرِِ دل
بھٹکنا جانتے ہیں
دل گرفتہ، دل نواز
حوادث آشنا
یہ بھی جانتے ہيں
محبت نہ بھی ملے تو
ہجر کے پھول
سنبھالنا جانتے ہيں

(A poem in Urdu – written casually – comments & criticism is welcome)

I know how men in exile feed on dreams

26 September 2014
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To the accompaniment of songs, poetry and history, Raza Rumi spent a bittersweet evening with fellow exiles exploring the state of his banishment

Raza rumi and neelam

Neelam Bashir and Raza Rumi

“Our native soil draws all of us, by I know not what sweetness, and never allows us to forget.” ? Ovid

I sat there, on a wooden deck with a motley crew under the summer sky. Deep into the suburbia of Maryland this was a spontaneous get together with a diverse group of Pakistani-Americans. The sorted, integrated types not at odds with the ‘evil West’ as we know it back home. Yet, they were exiles, dislocated in their own way. This was a strangely intimate evening with so many stories that merged into a moment of connection, a nameless bond.

Noreen and Amjad Babar – old residents here – are great hosts. Their home, an open house in all senses, hosts all the progressives across the length and breadth of the United States. That evening when we all congregated perchance, it was a melee of writers, poets, doctors and journalists of Pakistani origin. This was also the weekend when the Association of Physicians of Pakistani Descent of North America (APPNA) was holding its annual convention.

Far from home

Pakistani American doctors hold a huge festival every year where they congregate, network, vent and even make matches for their hybridized children.

This year’s event was dedicated to hundreds of doctors who have been killed for their ‘wrong’ faith in Pakistan

I was invited to speak at a panel organized by Karachi’s Dow Medical College Alumni (formally known as the ‘Dow Graduates Association of North America’) that attempts to raise the unpopular issues of extremism and progressive change in Pakistan. This year’s event was dedicated to hundreds of doctors who have been killed for their ‘wrong’ faith in Pakistan. Most notably, Dr Mehdi whose assassination did not even invite a simple statement of condemnation from Pakistan’s so-called ruling ‘democrats’. The panel was great: Pakistan’s former Ambassador to the US, Husain Haqqani, poet-writer-journalist Hasan Mujtaba and the bold columnist Dr Taqi. Haqqani amused the audience with his wit and exceptional command over Pakistan’s history. Only a few bilingual speakers can match his erudition. (more…)

Away from the ‘homeland’

9 May 2014

In the past one month, my friends and associates from across the globe have reached out. I am grateful to them. Now that I am out of Pakistan I am safer. This is a trade-off. Choices. Again. Security versus identity. Belonging or choosing a migrant’s life. I have yet to think about these issues and hopefully the mist will clear itself.

I was deeply touched by what the eminent poet and my friend-muse Fahmida Riaz wrote in her commentary on the recently held Islamabad Literature Festival:

…It is no ordinary city or town, our capital. Only weeks ago there was a blast here that killed many people; and just last month, one of its prominent citizens, Raza Rumi, barely escaped death in a car attack. Last year Rumi was the life and spirit of the festival, moderating many sessions, but this year he was nowhere to be seen.

And then this email that pierced into a corner of my being:

Yes, I heard about it. Yes, I also read about it. Quite honestly, I didn’t know how to react to it. Should I pick the phone, say a few words of concern and take a sigh of relief? Or should I sit back, grim and bear it? It took a long time to sink in despite the fact that it sounded familiar. I’ve lost friends (we all have lost friends at some one point in life or the other) but I really can’t afford to lose another. Each time I hear the sound within earshot, I am shaken. I feel weak in the knees while writing this!
I called you today – your number was powered off. I was looking for you at the ILF 2014 but couldn’t see you anywhere. Where are you? How do I connect with you? …
Meanwhile, take everything easy. I can’t stop thanking God for returning you to us. Looking forward to hearing from you.
Best, ….

(more…)

What do you read, my lord?

30 July 2013

My book will be launched this Saturday. I can say that its going to be a big day in my quest to become a writer. Those in Delhi are invited. Click the image for the full picture and details.

“Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord?
Hamlet: Words, words, words.
Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord?
Hamlet: Between who?
Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.” ~Shakespeare

Invite (Delhi by heart) 5x7 inch Final

 

 

The heart divided

27 June 2013

Here’s an excerpt from my book ‘Delhi, by heart’ that was featured in TFT

 

I am not sure how I met Bunty. It was perhaps through a reference from the office during one of my early work-related visits. Bunty Singh, brother of Sunny Singh and Goldie Singh, became my guide and companion. Sunny and Bunty have set up a mini empire of rental cars through investments made by Goldie who lives in Germany and is married to a “good” German girl. Bunty, a boisterous, internet-savvy young Sardar, found me to be somewhat like him. We spoke in Punjabi, often using lines that would quite miss those outside the ‘Punju’ realm. And we both were equally fascinated by each other-the thirty-something grandchildren of Partition.

So after an hour of awkward client-service interaction, Bunty decided to befriend me. It was just the right thing to have happened I guess. How else would I know a real Sardar? Most of my interactions with Sikhs took place when I was a student in the UK decades ago.

However, as soon as there was mention of Partition, there was a palpable unease. It was only after a day or two that he confided how half his family was butchered at a railway station.

To use Amrita Pritam’s words:

Who can guess

How difficult it is

To nurse barbarity in one’s belly

To consume the body and burn the bones?

I am the fruit of that season

When the berries of Independence came into blossom. (Translated from the Punjabi by Harbans Singh)

(more…)

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