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Prana, Kratu, Jazz II: Ali Ahmad Hoosain, Hasan Haider, Ahmad Abbas and Subhen Chatterjee at UC Irvine, May 10, 2009 by Debashish Banerji

Originally posted on sciy.org by Debashish Banerji on Mon 11 May 2009 01:15 AM PDT  

 

PRANA, KRATU, JAZZ - II: Ustad Ali Ahmad Hoosain, Janab Hasan Haider and 

Janab Ahmad Abbas on shehnai, Subhen Chatterjee on tabla, May 10, 2009 at UC Irvine

Debashish Banerji

 

Straight black jacket and black dervish cap

Knit eyebrows, the steady quizzical eyes

The veteran of the wind discipline winding

Lazy, straight or lightning swift at will.

Flanking behind the two younger sibling cats

Bend ornamental traceries, or subdue

The demon of sound, held down to willed obedience.

Beside him the magician of the finger drums

Patterns out the geometric landscape.

 

In Mughal times or earlier still in Sultanate

Amir Khusrau or Tansen sat in court

Surrounded by connoisseurs with bolsters, waterpipes, spittoons,

Negotiating the tasty dialog of Turkey, Persia, Hindustan.

Ecstatic sufis, clapping Dervishes, breath working yogis

Came together in the synaesthetic language.

The wind moved yearning, melancholy and sweet

Or rattled like bursting thunder drums

When the gods respond with drenching rain.

 

In the beginning was the unimagined golden gong,

The unstruck sound, the seven selfborn cognitions

The magic box of numbers, space, time,

Wind of separation and joining, the photon’s spark

Water essence of taste, fragrant dust,

And causeless Delight which turned itself into longing.

From these for the delight of the Subject

The gods took shape, appeared, disappeared,

Captured by the adepts of the Hindu science of sound.

 

Springtime is when the interned daughter escapes.

Horns articulate the celestial kokila’s entreaties

In triplicate, the veteran cat and his sons

Relish the burgeoning creepers, the burning blossoms,

The south wind fragrant blows,

The drums madden like passionate stomping elephants

Their ringing skins overpowering temporal measures

And Krishna appears intoxicating the gopis.

 

The scene shifts and the cats are now cool hipsters,

Experts at the improvised moment.

Cats in the audience sitting in front constitute with them

The easy language of heaven-born perfection.

Drums and horns and the 99 inflections of wah-wahs,

Toba-tobas and kya baat hais weave the synergy

Of spontaneous collective co-creation. The grizzled leader

Conducts the nuanced journey sensitive to each,

Discovering integration with his minimal phrases.

 

Jazz is the hybrid celebration of the post-human.

 

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