A NIGHT OUT IN (GREATER) LAHORE

Despite the bloody bombings and attacks, the magical liberation of Sufi shrines is irrepressible

Virinder S Kalra Manchester (UK)

 

The bloody bombing at the shrine of Data Sahib in Lahore in 2010 dampened — but only for a few days — the enthusiasm of the worshippers who congregate in thousands there on a typical Thursday afternoon. From 2:30pm onwards, the cacophony of the crowd is disciplined by the tuneful, rhythmic sounds of Qawaali performers who play in the large hall under the main shrine. All of Pakistan’s well-known and not-so-well-known Qawaals have played here, often to crowds in their tens of thousands. As the sounds of the azaan call out to signal the time of the Maghrib Namaaz, the Qawaali stops. But this is not the end of the sounds of the harmonium and tabla in the city, but rather the start of a long evening which spans not only the urban expanse of Lahore, but also different periods in history and multiple musical forms. 

 

At the shrine, you feel the pulse of working class Lahoris, visiting traders passing through the city, rural folk on weekly pilgrimage to their favourite baba, and above all, in a street culture dominated by men, a space where women can perform and socialise. In the shrine hall on the level above the formal stage of the Qawaali, a group of women surround a lone woman singer, not accompanied by any musicians, singing a song in praise of the giver, Data Sahib. 

 

As the evening approaches, heading out of Data Sahib, the discerning connoisseur of Qawaali need only move five miles down the road, travelling along the British colonial road, The Mall, still resplendent with grand imperial architecture, into the south of Lahore and the Cantonment area. Named after the shrine of Mian Mir, this area used to be known as Mian Mir Chownee, but is now just the dry — Cant. 

 

The Qawaali starts here after the Maghrib Namaaz, and is played in open air with garish speakers and broken down harmoniums. Mian Mir’s shrine is a large complex with many graves of the saint’s followers and their families. In oral history, it is Mian Mir who laid the foundation stone of the Harmandir Sahib in Amritsar (the Golden Temple) — a point which brings the odd East Punjabi pilgrim to the shrine. 

 

This is not of much concern to those who come to Mian Mir looking for respite from their troubles or seeking the blessings of the spiritual power of the Pir. A refuge for the poor and dispossessed, shrines are spaces where shelter and food can be found, especially on a Thursday evening. Those whose wishes have been fulfilled come to distribute langar, and those receiving a meal have their needs fulfilled. 

 

As the evening approaches and the intensity of the music picks up, the matted hair malangs start swaying and dancing, an occasional woman malangi will also join in, and as the Qawaali reaches its peak, the whole of the crowd is swaying as the dancers step dance with their fingers pointing to the sky.