At the Feet of the Beloved

Such is the case with the exquisite Pakistani brothers Rizwan and Muazzam Ali Khan, and their latest body of work, At the Feet of the Beloved. The siblings come from a veritable Qawwali dynasty comprising some 600 years of qawwals; not least, their uncle, the late, great Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (NFAK), widely considered as the ‘Shahenshah-e-Qawwali’ — the King of Qawwali. Taught by Rizwan and Muazzam’s grandfather, NFAK’s work and his exceptional voice helped bring Qawwali to a global audience, spreading the Sufi Islamic form’s message of spiritual love and longing to connect with a divine, higher power, regardless of any perceived barriers of culture, language, religion or ethnicity. It is this sentiment which the duo, along with their party of seven other musicians providing secondary vocals, instrumentation and percussion, seek to continue, carrying the torch and opening up people worldwide to that sublime, uplifting power.

Still, when they were children, young Rizwan and Muazzam’s father, Mujahid Mubarak Ali Khan, wanted the pair to focus on their studies, not wishing to distract them by teaching them music just yet. But, as their manager and long-time family friend Rashid Din explains, that thing in their genes, in their bones, still found a way; without telling their father, the siblings entered school music competitions. Eventually they won a competition comprising the whole district and the news was picked up by the local press; and so, people began to congratulate their bewildered father on his sons’ success.

Around the same time, the managers of a local Sufi shrine came and asked Mujahid if their sons would perform there. He was surprised at such an esteemed request and initially turned it down, reasoning that he had not taught them and so he wasn’t sure they could even sing. But the managers pointed out the local press item celebrating their regional win and so, according to Din, their father conceded: “‘Okay, if this is the case, then I will let them sing; but I will not sing with them. I will sit and watch.’” While finally watching them perform, Mujahid Mubarak Ali Khan realised that – even without his guidance – his children had inherited the family gift. So it was that he decided to begin teaching them the craft in earnest. They would also enjoy the mentorship of their uncle, NFAK, and were heavily influenced by his work.

It was not long after this that two untimely deaths took place: that of their father, in 1996, followed closely by NFAK, in 1997. Around this time Rashid Din, who had been the international manager for NFAK, and who was impressed by his late associate’s talented nephews, decided to help Rizwan and Muazzam with their career. The following year in 1998, the Lahore-based boys found a welcome audience around 5,000 miles away from home at the WOMAD Festival. A previous iteration of the event back in the summer of 1985 had seen NFAK break through to a Western audience beyond the South Asian diaspora, stirring listeners with the moving magic of Qawwali in what would become a career-defining moment. Rizwan and Muazzam carried his torch; soon after WOMAD, they would release their debut recordings, Attish: The Hidden Fire, to acclaim. It came out via Real World, the label which would give home to several more releases over the next few years — and again, now, nearly two decades from their last official release.

The brothers are back with a new record that teems with all the love and transcendent longing one associates with Qawwali — but, in a way which the pair seem set on making their own. As Rashid Din puts it: “There hasn’t been anybody who actually has led the legacy in this manner of working in the footsteps of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan — even from his family, these are the only two brothers who are actually trying to follow the footsteps of their late uncle. And even within Pakistan, there are many Qawwali singers doing a good job, but Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s family tradition of Qawwali is a very popular one; nobody is doing anything new, they’re just repeating and copying Nusrat songs. So we felt the need to give new material as Nusrat is not with us anymore. These two brothers are doing a great job with the new lyrics and new compositions, trying to take Nusrat’s message further.”

And so it is on At the Feet of the Beloved that we find a collection of four beautiful songs; two in Urdu and two in Punjabi; among the latter, one song has never been recorded before, and finds original composition from the two brothers. Recorded in their home studio in Pakistan, these are, at their core, songs about seeking love and peace, of course; but Rashid suggests the interpretation is ultimately down to the beholder. “We call them their love songs, but there is a spirituality in there. But it’s contemporary, too; it can be applied either way, spiritually or materialistically. It depends on where an individual’s love is — whether it’s spiritual or non-spiritual.”

Opening song ‘Meherban’, is based on an Urdu ghazal — a kind of love poem or ode. On it, the tabla and dholak flutter, while the harmonium weaves and dances around the party’s call and response vocals. The weight and despair of spiritual devotion seeps through with lines that translate to things like, “Whether I reach the destination now seems of little consequence / You are with me every step of the way, and that is no small thing.” The surrender to faith, whether spiritual or romantic, swells through these songs with an otherworldly warmth.

Next is ‘Ja Mur Ja’, a Punjabi song — a version of it is probably best known as a part of

NFAK’s oeuvre — back when Rizwan and Muazzam’s father was also performing with him. And so they decided to include the song, with its warnings about the tragedies that can beget those who fall in love, as per the Punjabi folktale of Sassui Punnhun. In the story, Sassi and Punnu are star-crossed lovers, and their marriage is thwarted by Punnu’s brothers, who get him drunk and carry him home to their town the night before the wedding; distraught the next morning, Sassi runs across the desert to try find Punnu. After a shepherd tries to force himself on her during her journey, she prays to God to hide her; and so she is swallowed up by the land and buried in the valley of the mountains; in turn, when Punnu tries to find her, he asks to join her and is buried in that same valley. And so, the lyrics of the song become clear, as it ends on its cautionary lines: “Like the helpless Sassi, you will burn in your passion / “Punnu, Punnu” — you will keep calling out forever / You will keep catching at phantoms / In the deadly Thal desert, forever will you suffer/ If you keep on this deadly, serpentine path / A cautionary tale you will become, published in books forevermore! / Turn back, Go home, there’s time still.” Through poetry, they wonder aloud whether such all-encompassing love can be worth such devastating consequences, fearful and contemplating running away before it becomes too much.

From there we get another Urdu ghazal, the skittering ebb and flow of ‘Saqi Ik Jaam’; an ode to intoxication (albeit filling up on the cup of love rather than liquor). The refrains, like, “Now, cupbearer, bestow upon us the wine that still lingers in the goblet of your gaze”, are quite gorgeous, with the vocal delivery veering between undulating melodic melismas and more harsh, untethered declarations, scattered through with sargams — the frenzied sound of singing the notes instead of the words.

Then things close on ‘Yaar Da Muhallah’, the vocal harmonies melting into each other like waves lapping on the shore. The devotion pours forth, again ultimately religious and spiritual in nature but open to the listener on the type of love they hold in their own heart. In Qawwali, worship of the divine is a romantic ecstasy in of itself: here we have exquisite lines like, “I have dyed my heart in the beloved’s hue” as the vocals and instrumentation build in mesmerising intensity and passion.

Imbued with the spirit of their late uncle, Rizwan-Muazzam have returned with another deeply accomplished, moving collection of songs that ache with the frenzied anxiety of falling in love and dreamy desire of devotion. Their vocals and arrangements are refined and, together with their party, they build a world that helps the listener connect to another one.

You can feel it all somewhere deep within, as though you can sense the centuries of longing innate in these songs. Perhaps that’s not such a farfetched notion; for Rizwan-Muazzam, after all, it’s in their blood.  

Words by Tara Joshi