Radhika Sood Nayak Experiences on Sufi Music

Radhika Sood Nayak
Last Tuesday’s talk, “Main Kamli Aan: Sharing My Experiences on Sufi Music” by Radhika Sood Nayak was an unusual combination of a speech woven with musical interludes, tracing her own personal journey of learning Sufi music with observations about the history, philosophy and evolution of the tradition itself. She was introduced by a new Rotarian, Sanjeev Saran Mehra, who spoke of her decision to leave a corporate job in Unilever to pursue her passion for music, singing at Bombay’s Kabir Festival, Delhi’s Lotus Temple, and the Kala Ghoda “Make in India” Festival 2016. As a disciple of Dayal Thakur and Thumri exponent Dhanashree Pandit Rai, she performs Hindustani and semi-classical forms such as Thumri, Dadra, Hori, Jhoola, and devotional music, in addition to Sufiana kalam. Radhika is an Akashvani artist and a recipient of the “Sur Mani” Award. Radhika started her talk by narrating how she had been asked many times if she would need any equipment or projector, and had responded with “an emphatic no.”

Sufism, according to Radhika, is essentially about becoming one with the supreme. “The quest for becoming one is really the heart of Sufi philosophy,” she said. “Sufism is love.” It is upon this fundamental idea that the philosophy is built — even love for one’s fellow human being, she explained, is an expression of love for god: “I see god in you, therefore I love you.” She also said in response to a question that Sufism is independent of Hinduism, Islam, or any other religious tradition. “I don’t see it as being associated with any religion,” she said. “It transcends all these classifications.”

In response to a question about whether Mira Bai could be classified as a Sufist, given that she is known for her devotion to Krishna, Radhika reiterated, “Her quest was always to become one with Krishna, and that is the quest of any Sufi: to become one with god.” She pointed out that Sufism has Arabic origins; the lexical root of the word has been traced to the word “?afa”, which means “purity” in Arabic, and “?uf”, which means “wool”, a reference to the cloaks worn by Muslim ascetics. But it also has roots in Greek; some scholars point out the term’s similarity with the word “sophia”, which means “wisdom”. It is possible, she said, that Sufism “simultaneously flourished in different civilizations and different parts of the world,” including Turkey, Europe, India and Pakistan. Her discovery of Sufi music began five years ago with the Punjabi Sufi poet, Bulleh Shah.

“I came across this one piece which really hit me hard,” she said, pausing to sing an excerpt. The piece is about the rituals and pilgrimages that individuals undertake to become closer to god. She translated, “I went to Mecca, and I said a hundred prayers, then I went to the Ganges and I took many dips to wash my sins away, and then I went to Gaya to pray for the dead, and the matter did not end with any of these journeys till I actually went within and I demolished my ego.” Radhika explained that this piece and its message deeply resonated with her, and led her to explore the poetry further. The second piece that she selected conveyed a similar message, which she translated as, “If god could be found by taking a dip in the holy waters, then the frogs and fish would have found him, because they are always in water.

If god could be found by roaming the jungle, then the cows and the calves would have found him, because they are always out grazing in the jungles. And if god could be found by going to temples and mosques, then the bats would have found him.” The piece then concludes that god can only be found if your heart is pure. Her third piece concerned the story of Heer and Ranjha, one of the famous tragic romances of Punjab. Heer and Ranjha loved each other but could not come together because their families were opposed to the union. There is, therefore, a lot of poetry based on Heer’s pining for Ranjha. In the present kalam, Radhika translated, “She is saying, ‘by chanting Ranjha’s name again and again, I have become one with Ranjha. And I don’t even exist as Heer anymore.’ This made me a bit curious, because this talks about Heer and Ranjha, and how is this related to the Sufi philosophy?” Radhika dug a bit deeper and discovered that Heer and Ranjha’s pining for each other was a metaphor for the longing of the atma to become one with the paramatma.

“This is borne out so beautifully in the Vedic philosophy, the Advaita philosophy of oneness,” she said, “that there is no two; I am one with god.” How, then, does a person become one with god? “In the Sufi tradition,” Radhika explained, “it’s almost an imperative that you need a guru.” She narrated the story of how Bulleh Shah found his guru, Shah Inayat. Bulleh Shah was from a high caste Muslim family, while Shah Inayat was a farmer. Bulleh Shah went to Lahore in search of Shah Inayat, and on sighting him in the fields, surrounded by trees, he decided to test Shah Inayat’s spirituality. He gazed at the fruit, and all the unripe fruit started falling from the trees. This upset Shah Inayat. He asked Bulleh Shah what he was doing, and Bulleh Shah denied any wrongdoing. “Then Shah Inayat — the master that he was — he fixed his gaze into Bulleh Shah’s eyes and he said, ‘What are you looking for? What have you come here for? What is your name?’ The glance was so penetrating that Bulleh Shah lowered his eyes and said, ‘I am Bulleh Shah, and I have come looking for god.

I want to realize god.'” Shah Inayat then told Bulleh Shah to “uproot yourself from here, and plant yourself here,” Radhika explained, “Which is really the essence of the spiritual journey and the Sufi philosophy, that you uproot your gaze from the outside world and you turn your gaze inwards. The whole journey is within us; it is not external to us.” They embraced, and Bulleh Shah found his master. Bulleh Shah wrote a great deal in praise of his guru. Radhika’s fourth piece was one such example, in which Bulleh Shah asks the timekeeper to stop keeping time by hitting the gong, because his piya (conveying ‘god’, or ‘guru’, which are considered to be one and the same in the seeker’s eyes) has come home. “This is the kind of love that he had for his guru,” Radhika said, “and in the Sufi tradition, it is called ‘ishq’, that all-engulfing love for god and for the murshid.” Another important component of the Sufi tradition is the demolition of the ego, “the getting rid of the I inside of you.”

Radhika narrated one incident where Bulleh Shah knocked on his master’s door and introduced himself as ‘Sayyid Bulleh Shah’. This incensed Shah Inayat, and he sent Bulleh Shah away, saying that he had learned nothing and was still holding on to his high caste and manifestations of hierarchy. Bulleh Shah, in an attempt to win back his master, joined a group of dancing girls and learned to sing and dance, eventually performing in front of his master in women’s clothing. When his guru recognized him, he forgave him and took him back. “But he had to shed his masculine pride and don the garb of a female,” Radhika said, “and basically get rid of this masculine ego, and that’s how he could woo his master back.” There is much written on this idea; Radhika sang one of the most popular pieces. The idea of equality is central to the Sufi philosophy.

This is beautifully captured by another kalam by Bulleh Shah, her sixth piece, translated as: “Let us to go to a land where everyone is blind; nobody should judge us by our caste, and nobody should even put us on a pedestal and revere us. So let us go to a land where everyone is equal.” The meaning is timeless: “That is what he had envisaged in the 17th century,” Radhika said, “and that holds true, and perhaps even more true, today.” For her last piece, Radhika chose a piece by a different poet, consisting of questions and answers about the city of Lahore. She translated: “In the city of Lahore, how many windows and how many doors are there? In the city of Lahore, how many wells have fresh water, and how many have salty water? In the city of Lahore, how many bricks are firm, and how many lie broken? In the city of Lahore, how many women are married, and how many are single?”

The answers all have their origins in love: “In the city of Lahore, there are lakhs of windows and lakhs of doors. In the city of Lahore, there are many bricks that are broken, and many are firm. The ones that are broken are the ones on which the lovers have placed their feet; they were lucky enough to feel the touch of lovers; the rest are firm. The wells from which the lovers drank water, those have sweet water; the rest have all salty water. And the women who found love; they are the ones who are married, all of the rest are single.” Radhika also believes that our own Rotary Club has much in common with Sufism: “In the Sufi tradition, one is supposed to keep away from all the divisions of gender, religion, caste, which is very much in sync with the Rotary philosophy… One of the things that you’ll try to spread is the message of goodwill, and peace, and oneness, and the Sufi tradition is all about that.” PP Sandip Agarwalla raises a pertinent point. Rotarians enjoying the talk.