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Redemption songs from an
impassioned band
Paani mein ek aag laga de ishq tera
Dekh mujhe paagal na bana de ishq tera
(Your love has the power to set water on fire, See how insanity overtakes me in
your love)
- Title track of Junooon's Ishq/Andaz (2001)
South Asia's cultural commonalities surpass artificial political boundaries much
more than outside observers can reckon. There may be two Kashmirs, two Bengals
and two Punjabs, divided on grounds of religion and nationalism, but tastes for
life and the arts are remarkably similar for the man on the street, whether he
is in India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Nepal or Sri Lanka. Nowhere is
it truer than with popular music. Lata Mangeshkar, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Jagjit
Singh, Mehdi Hassan and Ghulam Ali belong to no individual nation-state because
their creativity and golden voices waft across borders like fragrance, unstopped
by armies and check-posts.
That music has the power to transcend man-made frontiers, especially when it
speaks the language of love, redemption and tolerance, was demonstrated vividly
by Bob Marley way back in the 1970s. His call to shed mental slavery and love
all humans appealed not only in his native Caribbean but caught on like wild
fire in Africa, Europe and South America. Until 1996, South Asia had no
equivalent of Marley's Wailers that exclusively sang and performed with the
objective of uniting people under the banner of redemption and brotherhood. A
storm called Junoon (Obsession/Passion) suddenly sprang up in Pakistan and
filled the vacuum, riding on fusion music and 'Sufi-pop' to the top of the
sub-continental charts, and more importantly, into the hearts of young people.
Junoon's achievements are unique because they practically invented a new genre
of music, mixing spiritual poetry (rendered in mellifluous voices and backed by
traditional instruments like the tabla and the dholak) with the electric guitar.
Before their arrival on the music scene, pop bands were seen as Western by South
Asian audiences. In this region, film soundtracks enjoyed superlative
popularity. Junoon brought in a change, with three youthful and exuberant
showmen, Ali Azmat, Salman Ahmed and Brian O'Connell, equally at ease on stage
and in the recording studios. When a twenty-something Azmat leapt up and down in
Yanni-like hairdo and crooned with verve "Yaar bina dil nahin lagta" (life
without the beloved is empty), Bollywood songs lost their monopoly grip, and
Junoon's adulation spread at an electric pace.
Junoon's first international album, Azadi (1997), sold hundreds of thousands of
copies and became an instant hit even in the Middle East. One of the most
memorable renditions in Azadi was Allama Iqbal's classic Urdu poem, Khudi ko kar
buland itna (Strengthen your being). Purists wailed that the late poet would be
turning in his grave at the "rock-music remix" that Junoon had done to his
inspirational lyrics. But fans loved it. As an undergraduate in Delhi
University, I used to close my eyes, turn on the volume full, and simply lose
consciousness as Junoon belted out songs on subjects as varied as mysticism and
standing up to oppression.
Traditional numbers like the Punjabi Dama dam mast qalandar (Dance in joy, oh
devotee) combined the ardour of a climaxing qawwali with terrific Western beats.
I recall dancing in circles like the mad dervish who has found God. So did
everyone touched by Junoon, be it just to a tape recording or a live performance
by the 'awesome threesome.'
Junoon are heavily influenced in their choice of lyrics by Jalaluddin Rumi, the
occult Persian poet of the 13th century. In beauty of nature or in the person of
the loved one, Junoon hint at the existence of a higher divine power. For
instance, Mahiwaal mere mujhe paar laga can at once be interpreted simply as the
love song of Sohni and Mahiwal, the Romeo and Juliet of Punjab, or at a
different level, a call by the mortal being to the supernatural to come and
guide him across the waters of the world and reach up to the heavens.
Bulle Shah, the 17th century Sufi saint, is another Junoon favourite. Parvaaz
(1999) is dedicated to Bulle Shah's life mission of moving beyond religion and
loving each human as a fragment of God. Pyaar bina kya bashar kya khuda (Without
love, what worth is man or God?) is the track that captured listeners' attention
most.
Besides winning accolades and a mountain of awards, Junoon have the distinction
of being the first pop group to perform at the headquarters of the United
Nations at its Millennium Peace Concert. Guitarist Salman Ahmed is also a UN
Goodwill Ambassador assisting awareness campaigns on HIV Aids. More recently,
Junoon visited America in a spectacular concert tour that took cities like New
York by storm (bassist O'Connell is a native New Yorker). They released their
first ever English song -- 'No More' -- a call to purge terrorism from Islam and
to mourn the victims of September 11. Azmat sang, "If all that lives is born to
die, love remains I wonder why..."
Junoon's views on political issues have drawn a great deal of controversy in
conservative Pakistan, with Nawaz Sharif's government slapping a ban on them for
allegedly making "anti-Pakistan remarks" on a tour of India. Their overt
opposition to Pakistan's nuclear tests and governmental corruption have also
irked the powerful. Describing state crackdowns on student activity and on
minority Shias, Junoon sang, Had se badhne laga zulm ka silsila (The cycle of
repression has gone beyond endurance). Elsewhere, they have championed the
causes of minorities by crying, Kaha jo unhon ne sab ne suna, jo ham ne kaha, vo
kis ne suna (What the mighty say is aired to everyone, what we say is censored).
All the anger and frustration that idealistic South Asians face with insensitive
ruling elites is encapsulated in the lilting ditty Meri aawaaz suno, mujhe
aazaad karo, insaaf do (Listen to my voice, free me, give me justice). Junoon
has also warned politicians and the wealthy from taking the masses for granted:
Dharti ke khuda karte hain jafa, inko do saza (Earthly gods oppress us, let them
be punished).
Very rarely has music in the subcontinent become a medium for disseminating
overt messages of harmony and equity. Junoon's popularity in India is far
greater than that of any previous artiste from Pakistan. When they toured India,
each of their live concerts was sold out house-full. When they recently
performed at Cornell University in Ithaca, I found the majority of the audience
Indian. When Azmat broke out, Raasta jo aman ka hain dhoond le hum (Let's search
for the road leading to peace), about 500 souls chanted in unison, and I closed
my eyes again in awe of the transcendental magic of Junoon. The other day, I saw
a television news report about the booming music cassette industry in
post-Taliban Kabul and sure enough, Junoon's ever-popular Sayonee was playing
loudly onto the streets from a vendor's store! So rapidly has the group made
inroads into the South and West Asian market that Junoon fan sites abound on the
internet proclaiming they are 'Junoonies' (the obsessed ones).
Western readers might not see a big deal in a pop group attracting shrieking
fans and crazy following, but this sort of phenomenon has never occurred in
South Asia. Before Junoon, all the mass worshipping used to be the preserve of
film stars and cricketers, many of whom positively did not deserve that kind of
fawning attention. Drug abuse, match fixing and scandals have taken the sheen
off the old icons. The new icons present a contrast with fresh music, which
blends the best of East and West, and an accompanying attitude dipped in human
values. At a time when South Asians struggle to live free from terrorism,
misrule and poverty, Junoon are the purveyors of what biographer Horace Campbell
terms was Bob Marley's trade- "emancipatory politics." They sing for peace,
redemption and eternal hope of a better tomorrow:
Ye dil kyon tumhaara itna be-yakeen hain
Aisa to nahin hain ke Sanwal nahin raha
(Why is this heart of yours bereft of belief?
After all, love has not ceased to be)
Sreeram Chaulia
The Music Magazine
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