KARACHI: I am struggling to remember having ever confronted a longer queue at the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPA) than the one that awaited me for the Jashn-i-Khusro mehfil this weekend. The truth is that if the line had been any longer, it would have spiralled out on to M.R. Kyani Road — a testament not only to the enduring, centuries-long star power of Amir Khusro, but also to the singing prowess of Nazia Zuberi Hassan.

Nazia once told this writer that her early years on the PTV music programme Sung Sung Chalain were not just a thrilling experience at that young age but also laid the foundation for the musical journey that ensued. The early mentorship offered by Sohail Rana, coupled with Nazia’s rigorous tutelage at the hands of Ustad Hussain Baksh Khan, has clearly held her in good stead.

In many ways, this tribute to the legacy of Khusro was a chance for Nazia to grapple with the music of a man who has captivated her attention ever since she dipped her toes into the realm of classical music. “I’ve been fascinated with Amir Khusro for years,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to try and understand the magic in his work that has compelled us to perform, understand and enjoy his music for more than 700 years now. This is a staggering achievement when you consider that most songs that come out today don’t have a life beyond a week.”

Fittingly, the evening began with Zihale Miskeen which, as the mehfil’s interlocutor Saddam Siddiqui explained, ushered in an innovation by Khusro as it fused both Persian and Hindavi into a single ghazal, thus forming the prototype of what we know today as the Urdu ghazal. But what really set the tone for the gathering was Nazia’s rendition of Sawan Aya.

Of course, favourites such as Sakal Ban Phool Rahi Sarson, Chhap Tilak and Mohay Apne Hee Rung Mein really got the crowd going, but where Nazia’s voice really shone through was when she delved into the more melancholic works of Khusro, the ones that express a deep, profound longing. Raag Des naturally lends itself to such melodies, which is why Nazia’s rendition of Ae Re Sakhi was so stirring, as was the harmonium player Salman Wazir’s musical arrangement for this kalam.

Nazia’s tribute to Amir Khusro proved to be a nostalgic trip down memory lane for many

After giving us a dose of what we perhaps expected to hear at a mehfil honouring Khusro, Nazia then strayed off the beaten path and, suddenly, the gathering took on a far more emotional turn than perhaps most of the attendees were anticipating. As Nazia explained, “Many of you will have a certain nostalgia associated with these tunes that we will now present. I remember that weddings and mehndis back in the day used to have the bride’s side and the groom’s side sing songs while playing the dhol, in a little competition of sorts. We want to try to recapture those memories and songs.”

While I only have vague recollections of hearing some of these songs at the odd wedding or two a couple of decades ago, I was clearly in the minority on Sunday. Not only did the rest of the, admittedly older, audience remember these songs word-for-word, but they also sang along with such gusto and verve that one couldn’t help but be swept along with the tide.

However, the evening reached its emotional zenith when Kahe Ko Byahi Bides was performed. Nazia was already wary of the effect this kalam would have on listeners, saying, “Out of all the pieces we’ve presented today, this is perhaps the most challenging, not because of the melody but because of the emotion attached with it.” The returning wounded notes of Raag Des married perfectly with the palpable sense of ache and parting in Nazia’s voice, thus resulting in a ripple of muffled sobs across the audience. Later, as people met up with Nazia to offer their compliments, she appeared to be receiving the same ‘complaint’ from everyone: “You were splendid, but did you really have to make us cry towards the end?” I suppose Khusro will have to shoulder some of the blame for that.

Published in Dawn, November 15th, 2023