In Bengali, there is a term we commonly refer to as ‘Maatir Manush’, which briefly means ‘made of the earth’ – it’s a connotation for somebody as simple as the soil, basic, true and strong.
The past few days I have been heavily immersed in folk music – belonging to the remotest parts of the country and beyond its borders. The madness begun with Assameese, then extended to a little Bengali and now I am at the crossroads of Urdu and Hindi.
I have grown up with Baba telling me about folk music, those which were made mostly of vocals and minimalist instruments. In these songs, lyrics would be of primary importance and they would most often have a message for the masses. This music would be the most non-commercial of sorts and people would put their souls into them. Does anyone make music like that anymore?
I stumbled across a bunch of people who are attempting to get there. I was introduced to Coke Studio almost four years ago, while I was in college. The Pakistani version. It was love at first hearing, if I may say so. Rustic voices tied together with the iktara or simply an acoustic guitar strumming away in the background. The singers seemed to be in a trance of sorts, the lights were shades of deep red and blue, and for a moment everything seemed perfect.
A replication was attempted this year in India, and although I didn’t watch the seasons on television thanks to the defaulting cable lines, I made sure I listened to every track on the official YouTube channel and I was thoroughly disappointed. Although we have no dearth of voices or talent in India, the music seemed to lack the magic – it appeared to be all commercial and without a soul. Then again, I came across Season 4 of Coke Studio Pakistan and discovered fusion Sufi in an all new avatar.
Two tracks I fell in love with were: ‘Panchi’ by Jal featuring Qurat-ul-ain Balouch and ‘Nindiya’ by Kaavish – the band.
A thought that strikes me is that Sufi didn’t bother crossing the border.