Taaron Bhari Wo Raat - My Sufi Conquest!

Every now and then I love to do a Ramu. No, I don’t make a load of shit and package it an as inspiration and tribute to Sholay or remake a disaster like James to end up creating another one in Shiva. I try to explore the other world, a world of “intellectuals” who essentially are apostles of the elitist society. Last year I tried to rub shoulders with them at the MoMA, NYC and returned vanquished and acerbic. I really couldn’t find sense in a crude depiction of a pregnant woman or a giant olive green canvas and I was convinced that I really didn’t belong to the exclusive variety. Maybe that’s a reason why I love watching the “Sannate ko cheerti hui Sansani” brand of news channels rather than the news channels on a mission to unearth and dissect information to its deepest levels (Although I must admit that my preference for these pesudo news channels is just to get my daily doses of laughter!)

Time is a good healer and I mustered enough courage to try out something different yet again. On Sunday, I attended the Qutub Fest at Qutub Minar and waited with bated breaths to be mesmerized with the voice of Sufi singer Shafqat Ali Khan. Being from the lesser world, I generally find it difficult to get someone tug along with me to such places and I had to go all out to ensure that Nishant didn’t change his mind to go to the belle dance performance that someone else was taking him to.

As we neared the parking lot at the fest and were about to park the car next to a beautiful damsel’s straight from the page 3 of Delhi Times, we got our first taste of “You don’t belong here!” looks. The parking was at a secluded place and she preferred to take another round of the parking lot to find a slot far removed from ours. Prevention is better than cure but we didn’t look like rapists for sure!

Anyways, the greeting at the main entrance wasn’t all that good either. We first tried to get into the Qutub Minar with that pass and were politely shown the door that took us to the concert. At the other gate, a 50 something man was quite shocked to see two 20 somethings walking in amidst a swarm of educated and formally dressed lot. The divide between the two worlds was quite evident here in the tone of this 50 something gentleman who literally shoved off a family who had by mistake tried gaining entry to the concert with a ticket bought to visit the Qutub Minar.

The show had already begun and we managed some standing space just behind the seated rows. It was a bollywood night to start with and two successful participants from a popular singing talent show held last year were trying to woo the audience. Call me a born cynic but their performance was enough to convince me why these singers coming in dozens don’t make it big after the initial hype and hoopla.

They egged Delhi to sway to the rhythm but our feet were just not moving. That gave us a reason to loiter around and we ended up meeting one of our batchmates who was standing in the queue to get something for his wife. What followed with him gave me ample masala to cook up another blog entry so I would leave him aside for the time being and focus on the ‘Sufi’ trail of mine.

We finally settled on the green lawns of Qutub while Shafqat Sahab cleared his throats by singing the alaap. Some raagas followed and I tried sounding a music connoisseur by talking about what a Jhala is in a raag. The fact that I ended up being a laughing stock for having been fooled into learning a Hawaiian Guitar (Mohan Veena) instead of a Spanish one during my childhood was a different matter altogether. You sometimes walk on a razor sharp edge if you are in a gathering with a school friend you have known for the past 18 years. They know it all and have potential weapons to embarrass you anytime with a small anecdote dating back to the days when you first blushed when a girl said a happy b’day to you and smiled.

We finally managed to seat ourselves later besides Uncle White Kurta. Uncle was all alone and a true romantic at heart. All sufi verses met with appreaciation in the form of “Waah Waah!” and “Uff..ahaa”. We too got into the same mould. But I must admit that the appreciation was not fake. “Taaron bhari hai raat” was a soulful rendition. We finally made a retreat and ended our Sufi conquest by celebrating at Yo! China in Priya.

Talking of China, Red FM faces a ban for uttering something against the Darjeeling lad who won the Indian Idol recently. Oops! Did I say something more than required? I wonder why we Biharis and UP wallahs too don't take up cudgels against being called the Bhaiyaji's?