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Published: October 27th 2008
muslim
i look the part i supposeScene:
Hot Delhi afternoon in late October outside of a popular restaurant.
A young man wanting to study Sufi devotional music (Qawwali) is waiting outside of a restaurant that he has been told to be at by 2:30 in order to meet a possible teacher (guru). Having the knowledge that few, in any, outsiders ever get the chance to study Qawwali (since a vast majority of the musical teachings are passed down only through families) the senior college student arrives 5 minutes before the appointed time and waits patiently so as to not miss out on this (excuse the cliche) once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Scene:
Still a hot Delhi Afternoon in late October outside of a still popular restaurant
It is now 25 minutes passed the assigned meeting time. The young hopeful beings to become restless and has trouble sitting still in the oppressive afternoon sun. Frantically searching with all of his senses, he spots a man with a large beard and traditional starch-white Muslim clothing walking toward the restaurant. The man's gaze falls on the seated student. Brimming with newfound hope, the student smiles tentatively. The man reveals a broad grin and deepset smile lines in his face
crowd
View of Qawwali and waves his hand. Heartened, the student-to-be waves back and begins to stand. The man then proceeds to walk past the confused foreigner and greets a few similarly dressed men behind the now dis-heartened student. Slumping back into his chair, the restless student begins to angrily fiddle with his pencil.
Scene:
Still a Delhi Afternoon in late October outside of a ever-increasingly popular restaurant, though not quite as hot.
It is now 45 minutes passed the appointed time and the once oppressive heat is beginning to subside as the sun passes lower in the sky and shadows begin their slow, creeping march across the land. The frustrated composition major decides to try and find a public phone to call the missing Qawwal (a term for a person who sings Qawwali music). Gathering his things: a notebook, two pencils, a book and a water bottle, he walks away from the restaurant and towards a local phone booth.
As he leaves and heads down an adjacent street, from behind him comes a voice, "Derek, right?"
Scene:
Inside the noisy, air-conditioned restaurant in late October. It is now nearly an hour after the appointed meeting time.
Across from
in action
a qawwali group the study-abroad student sits a man of average height and above average weight. He wears a ring on each ring finger, one a blue stone, the other a sterling-silver ring with an ornate design carved upon it. On his right wrist an expensive-looking watch ticks away silently. His face is covered by a light scruff of a beard and his hair is short and cropped close to his head, though it looks to be in need of a trimming. His western style jeans are well-worn and his shirt portrays the symbols of 6 major religions (Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Taoism) and it reads "God is too big to fit into one religion". Finding no words in his mouth, the student sips his bottled water and watches the Qawwal hungrily devour the two sandwiches on hamburger buns that he ordered before sitting down.
"So? What's your story?", the Qawwal asks in an American shaped, Islamic inflected, and Indian colored tone.
Over the next twos hours, the Qawwal, named Dhruv Sangari, spoke of everything from the foundations of Sufism and stories of "The Prophet" to sex-obsessed Kathak dance instructors and the finer points of singing slightly sharp in Qawwali
expensive
there it is (as is required by Qawwals).
By the end of the conversation, a new meeting time was set and a lesson schedule was planned. The Qawwal says that he must go to the nearby barbershop to get a haircut (which, he admits, is why he decided upon that particular restaurant for their meeting). The Qawwali-to-be would learn how to sing, perform, and (hopefully) how to be a Qawwal.
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Becky
non-member comment
look the part?
A little to pale I'm thinking, but what an experience. I can't wait till you get home. I'm hoping there will be a party with lots of pictures and stories. (and maybe some Indian food?)