Experiencing the magic of Sufi music and poetry, says SAKSHI PRIYA
Some evenings stay with you long after they are over. Jahan-e-Khusrau’s 25th edition was one such evening and curated by Muzaffar Ali, has completed 25 years, yet it remains as timeless as the poetry it celebrates. The festival, brought together voices, rhythms, and poetry that felt like something ancient yet deeply relevant. On the opening evening, Naara-e-Mastana by Kanwar Grewal set the tone. His voice, raw and unfiltered, carried the weight of longing that defines Sufi music. There was no hurry, just a quiet surrender to the music.
The second evening belonged to the mesmerising Saiyaan Sajilay, Torey Naina Rasilay, where Manjari Chaturvedi’s Kathak met the qawwali of Danish Husain Badayuni and Gufran Aslami Khairabadi. There was something hypnotic about the way dance and music intertwined, each responding to the other, neither overpowering nor retreating. Yaad-e-Kanhaiya by Malini Awasthi followed, her voice bringing a thumri-inspired touch to the intensity of the night. On the final day, Raqs-e-Junoon saw Shivani Varma’s dance meet the melodies of Sina Fakhroddin and the Tehran-Delhi Music Ensemble. Their performance felt less like an act and more like a prayer. Later, Ruh, a poetry and storytelling session by Murad Ali, wove together words and whirling dervishes in a way that made time slow down, just for that moment.
The night ended with a qawwali, voices rising, claps growing louder, the energy filling every corner of the venue. No one was in a hurry to leave. Music had done what it always does, brought people closer, made everything else fade away for a while.
“Ishq likhne baithe toh har lafz mehka mile...”
“Jahan-e-Khusrau sirf mehfil nahi, ek manzar mile.”
The festival may have drawn to a close, but its presence remains, much like the verses of a Sufi poet, growing louder in memory, until they become a part of you.
