The ghazal always opens with a rhyming couplet called matla. The rhyme of
the opening couplet is repeated at the end of second line in each
succeeding verse, so that the rhyming pattern may be represented as
aa,ba,ca,da etc., and so on. In addition to the restriction of rhyme, the
ghazal also observes the convention of radif. Radif demands that a portion
of the first line , comprising not more than two or three words,
immediately preceding the rhyme-word at the end, should rhyme with its
counterpart in the second line of the opening couplet, and afterwards
alternately throughout the poem. The opening couplet of the ghazal is
always a representative couplet: it sets the mood and tone of the poem and
prepares us for its proper appreciation. The last couplet of the ghazal
called makta often includes the pen-name of the poet, and is more personal
than general in its tone and intent. Here the poet may express his own
state of mind, or describe his religious faith, or pray for his beloved,
or indulge in poetic self-praise.
The couplets are united only by meter and rhyme, rather than by content;
thus each couplet is intended to constitute a discrete entity - like a
pearl in a necklace or a flower in a garland, to use familiar metaphors.
The different couplets of the ghazal are not bound by unity and
consistency of thought. Each couplet is a self-sufficient unit, detachable
and quotable, generally containing the complete expression of an idea.
Because of its comparative brevity and concentration, its thematic variety
and rich suggestiveness, the ghazal soon eclipsed the qasida and became
the most popular form of poetry in Iran. It was cultivated with great zeal
by the Persians, and became the single most important genre of Persian
literature. Reaching a classical zenith in the works of Sadi and Hafiz,
the Persian ghazal acquired formal and athestic characteristics which
persist to this day, in the ghazal as cultivated in other languages as
well.
These features include a set of closely related themes: unrequited love,
mystical devotion, philosophical rumination, ridicule of religious
orthodoxy, symbolic celebration of madness and intoxication, and a sort of
self-abnegating, sometimes masochistic immersion in the pangs of longing
and frustration. The reliance on these set themes, together with the usage
of a set of standardised symbols and metaphors, compensates for the
fragmentary nature of the ghazal as a poem, and facilitates epigrammatic
condensation for which, among other things, individual couplets are
prized.
Some poets including Hasrat, Iqbal and Josh have written ghazals in the
style of a nazm, based on a single theme, properly developed and
concluded. But such ghazals are an exception rather than a rule, and the
traditional ghazal still holds sway. However, it is not uncommon to find,
even amongst the works of classical poets, ghazals exhibiting continuity
of theme or, more often, a set of verses connected in theme and thought.
Such a thematic group is called a qita, and is presumably resorted to when
a poet is confronted with an elaborate thought difficult to be condensed
in a single verse. Although the ghazal deals with the whole spectrum of
human experience, its central concern is love. The ghazal came to India
with the advent and extension of the Muslim influence from the 12th
century onwards. The Moghuls brought with them Iranian culture and
civilization, including Iranian poetry and literature. By the 18th
century, when Persian gave way to Urdu as the language of poetry and
culture in India, the ghazal found its opportunity to grow and develop.
The Urdu ghazal still adhered largely to the form, imagery, and content of
its ancestor. Evidence suggests that the ghazal as musical genre has
thrived for several centuries in North India. Ghazal could be chanted in a
semi-melodic tarannum style by poets at poetry readings, or it could be
used as a text for Muslim devotional qawwali performed by professional
groups in shrines. Most commonly and importantly, however, ghazal was
performed by courtesans and other trained vocalists as a genteel
light-classical music style, which stressed interpretive melodic
improvisation--bol banao--on the nonrhyming, first line of each couplet.
Classical rags (modes) and accompanying instruments (tabla drum-pair,
sarangi fiddle) were used, and a sophisticated aesthetic developed which
evaluated ghazal songs on the basis of the poetry itself, the precomposed
tune used for refrains (especially of the rhyming lines), and, above all,
the singer's skillful, improvised bol banao.
Ghazal as a musical genre became particularly popular in the nineteenth
century, when a proto-capitalist, incipient bourgeoisie began to replace
the declining feudal Mughal nobility as patrons of the fine arts. In the
first half of the twentieth century, the light-classical ghazal continued
to enjoy popular appeal among music aficionados and middle-class
enthusiasts, although it was to some extent stigmatized by its association
with the declining courtesan culture. On the whole, however, the
light-classical ghazal successfully effected the transition from court and
courtesan salon to the public concert hall, and from feudal to bourgeoisie
patronage.
The ghazal's popularity was aided by the advent of the recording industry
in India in 1901. From the very start, ghazals constituted a significant
part, and perhaps a plurality of commercial recordings, largely because
ghazal was the most popular music genre in Urdu, the lingua franca of
North India. The recording industry naturally promoted ghazal as one of
the few genres with a pan-regional, potentially mass common-denominator
market, unlike, for example, classical music or regional folkstyles. With
the advent of sound cinema, ghazals came to account for a large portion of
the music of Hindi cinema, especially in the early decades. In the process
of being transformed into a commercially popular music with mass appeal,
however, the film ghazal underwent predictable changes which brought it
stylistically in line with mainstream film music as a whole. Thus the
improvisatory bol banao was eliminated, so that the genre became,
essentially, a precomposed song, accompanied, like most film music, by
varied ensembles of Western and Indian instruments.
The film ghazal, as popularized by Talat Mahmood, Lata Mangeshkar, and
others, retained some of the exotic and romantic associations of the
courtesan world and of Urdu verse in general, while aiming at a
contemporary and less sophisticated audience. The Urdu lyrics cohered well
with the diction of so-called Hindi films, most which were in fact in
Urdu, in accordance with that language's "sweet" and romantic ethos, as
opposed to standard Hindi, which is perceived as a more utilitarian
tongue. Meanwhile, throughout the 1960s, the light-classical ghazal,
particularly as sung by Begum Akhtar, continued to enjoy a stable, if
limited degree of popularity among connoisseurs of classical music and
Urdu poetry.
By the early 1970s the film ghazal, although still relatively common, was
undergoing a marked decline. Aside from the retirement of Talat Mahmood in
1970, a primary factor was the reorientation of film music in general,
toward fast, rhythmic songs influenced by Western rock and disco, in place
of the traditional melodic, sentimental styles like ghazal.
Another cause was the increasing trend toward action-oriented masala (lit.
spice) films, rather than sentimental melodramas and costume-drama
mythologicals. Although the ghazal's versatile formal structure could
conceivably have been adapted even to disco styles, the genre has remained
too closely associated with its traditional subject matter of broken
hearts, weepy lovers, and the stylized refinement of Urdu culture in
general. The other development that contributed to the gradual eclipse of
the ghazal, in both its film and light-classical styles has been the
marked decline of the Urdu language in India, with Independence in 1947
and the subsequent partition of India and Pakistan.
The decline of the ghazal, in both its commercial film and light-classical
varieties, was an inevitable concomitant. Nevertheless, by the mid-1970s,
certain broad social, aesthetic, and technological developments had
emerged which paved the way for the revival of a modernized form of the
ghazal. As we have noted, the action-oriented masala films, while
satisfying cinema audiences, took film music in a direction contrary to
the tastes of the many middle-class listeners, who continued to prefer
tuneful, sentimental crooning to the disco-influenced modern film music.
One may hypothesize that as the consumerist urban bourgeoisie grew in
strength, numbers, and self-identity, a demand arose for a music which
reflected its own self-image and aesthetic values. Such a music would have
to be more genteel than the raucous and lowest-common-denominator film
music, and yet it needed to be simpler and more accessible than classical
music, constituting, in Birmingham School terms, a "rearticulation" of the
elite semi classical ghazal. As more middle class consumers were able to
afford phonographs, the potential began to emerge for a new pan-regional
popular music which could be, for the first time, independent of films. A
modernized, simplified pop ghazal was the ideal genre for such an
audience, and it correspondingly began to flourish as such around 1977.
In order to achieve a genuinely mass audience, however, it required a mass
medium which was cheaper and more accessible than records, and yet still
distinct from cinema. The spread of cassette players among the upper and
middle classes in the late 1970s provided the essential catalyst for the
flowering of the modern ghazal as the first pan-regional commercial genre
to challenge the dominance of film music and its coterie of stars and
producers.
The modern ghazal, as befits the composition and tastes of its audience,
retains a distinctly aristocratic, courtly image (or, one might say,
pretension). Singers appear on stage and on cassette covers dressed in
fine Muslim-style kurtas and sherwanis. Cassettes often feature canned
(artificially inserted) exclamations of "wah wah!" (bravo!) intended to
suggest the ambiance of the genteel courtesan salon ormusha'ra (poetry
reading). In the use of tabla (as opposed to bongos, or folk barrel
drum), occasional tame improvisations, ghazal form, and the Urdu language
itself, the modern ghazal retains some of the mannerisms, if not the
substantive content, of the traditional light-classical ghazal enjoyed by
the Urdu-speaking nobility of previous generations. Thus the entire
identity and core audience of the modern ghazal are quite distinct from
those of the mainstream film song. Journalistic critics, for their part,
are quick to deplore the occasional presence of film elements in the
contemporary ghazal, such as the usage of borrowed film melodies. At the
same time, the modern ghazal is clearly more accessible, in style,
diction, and patterns of dissemination, than was its highbrow predecessor,
the audience of which consisted primarily (though not exclusively) of
aristocrats steeped in refined Urdu culture. Thus, for example, whereas
the aesthetic substance of the light-classical ghazal was the process of
textual-melodic improvisation (bol banao), cassettes of modern ghazals are
aimed at musically less-educated consumers who expect lyrical, fixed
tunes.
The absence of improvisation renders the modern ghazal fundamentally
different in aesthetic content and import from its light-classical
antecedent, and more akin to a git (geet)--literally "song," but,
implicitly, a precomposed commercial song. Journalist critics tend to
disparage this development, as in the following excerpt from a concert
review: Gone are the days of the expansive, free ghazal. Its difference
from the circumscribed and hide-bound geet is fast obliterated. Vocalist
Sonali Jalota is one of the few singers to openly acknowledge this
development, such that in concert she invariably announces such songs
gitnuma-ghazal (git-style ghazal). Modern vocalists, like their
predecessors, tend to sing the works of contemporary poets as well as old
favorites by past masters. Rather than indicating a decline, the
preference for contemporary verses, even if often inferior to the
classics, can be regarded as an indication of the continued vitality and
evolution of the ghazal as poetry. As has often been observed, mediocre
poems may make effective song texts, just as much great poetry lends
itself poorly to musical rendering.
Nevertheless, aficionados of Urdu verse tend to regard the majority of
verse sung by modern singers as markedly inferior when judged by past
standards. While traditional themes, metaphors, and imagery are retained,
many modern ghazals seem more sentimental than classical Urdu verse, which
treats lover and beloved more as archetypes. Much of what is popularized
by the contemporary stars consists of shallow, inconsequential, and
hackneyed verse, reiterating tired clichs whose triviality, for annoyed
connoisseurs, is only heightened by the artificiality of the canned
"wah-wahs" following them on cassettes. Of course, there have always been
dozens of ordinary poets for each talented one--especially in a genre so
widely cultivated as the Urdu ghazal. Perhaps what invites the purists'
scorn is the modern ghazal's unprecedented mass dissemination, which
popularizes otherwise forgettable verse among vast audiences.
Connoisseurs of high Urdu also lament the extent to which Urdu diction has
been simplified, or replace with Hindi, in order to reach a broader,
Hindi-speaking audience. As popular knowledge of Urdu declines, singers
of pop ghazals increasingly avoid verse with unfamiliar Persia-Arabic
diction, including many of the most famous ghazals of great classical
poets like Ghalib. Critics also point out that some modern
singers--including some of the top stars--pronounce Urdu phonemes
incorrectly, substituting Hindi phonemes for Urdu counterparts and
misplacing unwritten elisions (ezafet). A few vocalists have been known
to confess in private that they themselves are unsure of the meaning of
some of the couplets they sing. Some of the most popular modern ghazals
employ distinctively Hindi diction which would never be encountered in
traditional Urdu verse. The the popularity of this and other
Hindi-oriented ghazals clearly coheres with the general dilution of Urdu
in the modern ghazal.
In North India and Pakistan, the Urdu ghazal continues to enjoy prodigious
popularity, indeed, incomparably greater than that of any poetic form in
the West. Although Urdu is, on the whole, a product of Indo-Muslim
culture, in the last decade, the ghazal has been commercially produced in
different regional languages, especially Punjabi, Marathi, Gujarati,
Bengali, Pashtu, and Hindi itself. While these ghazals often use the
standard imagery, rhyme scheme, and, to some extent, meters of their Urdu
models, what distinguishes them more clearly as ghazals is their style,
which imitates that of the contemporary mainstream ghazal. The appearance
of regional-language ghazals is directly related to the rise of cassettes,
with their crucial role in the ghazal boom in general, and in the
emergence of commercial regional music.
based on extracts from:
i) Masterpieces of Urdu Ghazal - From 17th to 20th Century by K.C. Kanda.
It may suprise many of you, especially those who know the ghazal in its
relatively new English form, that it is very much well and alive in the
mainstream of Indian and Pakistani culture. Properly speaking, ghazal
denotes a poetic genre, though in India and Pakistan today, the term
commonly also implies the musical form in which it is rendered. As a
lyric genre, the ghazal has its roots in classical Arabic poetry. Ghazal
is an Arabic word which literally means talking to women. It grew from the
Persian qasida, which verse form had come to Iran from Arabia around the
10th century A.D..The qasida was a eulogy written in praise of the emperor
or his noblemen. The part of the qasida called tashbib got detached and
developed in due course of time into the ghazal. Whereas the qasida
sometimes ran into as many as 100 couplets or more in monorhyme, the
ghazal seldom exceeded twelve, and settled down to an average of seven.
ii) Cassette Culture by Peter Manuel, The University of Chicago Press,
1993.
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