A story of perseverance: Malang Ustaad and rabab - A love affair in Charsadda
Losing two fingers, meeting family resistance, militancy did not stop maestro
Malang Ustaad seen playing rabab at his shop in Sardheri. PHOTO: EXPRESS
PESHAWAR:
Having lost two of his fingers, Bakht Munir, 45, plays with his heart. He touches the strings of his rabab to create a unique melody, mesmerising all those around him.
Munir, commonly called Malang Ustaad due to his performances at Sufi shrines and his own association with Sufi religion, plays, repairs and even makes the instrument. The maestro, famous throughout the region for his original and captivating tunes, overcame a plethora of obstacles—resistance from family, militant attacks, physical barricades—to preserve and maintain a part of his culture.
He is the only one associated with rabab in the whole district since all the rest of musicians and makers fled during unfavourable times.
Staying true
A resident of Sardheri in Charsadda, Munir belonged to a low income family and was forced to work as a daily wager to support his family monetarily. He developed an unforgiving love for rabab early in his childhood. However, given the financial circumstances of his family and strong opposition from his parents, Munir quit playing rabab.
On one working day, he met with an accident and lost two of his left hand fingers. However, his love for the instrument could not keep him away from it and a few years later, Munir adopted rabab making, repairing and playing as his full-fledged profession.
“It is difficult to play without two of my fingers since continuity of tunes is affected, but the zeal and enchantment of my work makes it easy,” Munir says.
Keeping it alive
Malang Ustaad has been associated with rabab for the last 25 years. He did not keep the instrument away even at a time when militancy took over the region, threatening the lives of musicians and forcing them to flee the province.
Even when militants attacked the building in which his shop was located and an explosion took place right outside it, Malang Ustaad stayed true to his passion and continued to play on.
“My music was the only silver lining during those bleak times,” he tells The Express Tribune. “Prior to attacks, the music industry was open for improvement and a lot of young talented musicians were emerging,” Munir says, adding, even though peace has been restored in the region, trepidation continues.
“We are representatives of a culture, playing our own music,” he says. Malang Ustaad emphasised the need to preserve the tradition which was on the brink of being forgotten.
Munir says playing this music was not against social or religious norms and while the society had double standards and did not like him playing the instrument, it loved his music.
Making ends meet
The artist says the profession did not allow him to earn a decent living but the love for rabab and his music creation kept him going.
“The music events that happened a great deal in the past have now stopped,” he says. He adds if he sells three rababs and finds two events to perform at during a month, things go easy for him.
The maestro says he misses the times when weddings at villages occurred and artists performed. “This is a symbol of our culture and a core part of a music orchestra,” he says, adding, the practice needs to continue.
Optimistic about the future of the industry and his children’s future, Munir says education was important and while his children will study, they will also learn to play and make the rabab.
Published in The Express Tribune, September 7th, 2016.
Having lost two of his fingers, Bakht Munir, 45, plays with his heart. He touches the strings of his rabab to create a unique melody, mesmerising all those around him.
Munir, commonly called Malang Ustaad due to his performances at Sufi shrines and his own association with Sufi religion, plays, repairs and even makes the instrument. The maestro, famous throughout the region for his original and captivating tunes, overcame a plethora of obstacles—resistance from family, militant attacks, physical barricades—to preserve and maintain a part of his culture.
He is the only one associated with rabab in the whole district since all the rest of musicians and makers fled during unfavourable times.
Staying true
A resident of Sardheri in Charsadda, Munir belonged to a low income family and was forced to work as a daily wager to support his family monetarily. He developed an unforgiving love for rabab early in his childhood. However, given the financial circumstances of his family and strong opposition from his parents, Munir quit playing rabab.
On one working day, he met with an accident and lost two of his left hand fingers. However, his love for the instrument could not keep him away from it and a few years later, Munir adopted rabab making, repairing and playing as his full-fledged profession.
“It is difficult to play without two of my fingers since continuity of tunes is affected, but the zeal and enchantment of my work makes it easy,” Munir says.
Keeping it alive
Malang Ustaad has been associated with rabab for the last 25 years. He did not keep the instrument away even at a time when militancy took over the region, threatening the lives of musicians and forcing them to flee the province.
Even when militants attacked the building in which his shop was located and an explosion took place right outside it, Malang Ustaad stayed true to his passion and continued to play on.
“My music was the only silver lining during those bleak times,” he tells The Express Tribune. “Prior to attacks, the music industry was open for improvement and a lot of young talented musicians were emerging,” Munir says, adding, even though peace has been restored in the region, trepidation continues.
“We are representatives of a culture, playing our own music,” he says. Malang Ustaad emphasised the need to preserve the tradition which was on the brink of being forgotten.
Munir says playing this music was not against social or religious norms and while the society had double standards and did not like him playing the instrument, it loved his music.
Making ends meet
The artist says the profession did not allow him to earn a decent living but the love for rabab and his music creation kept him going.
“The music events that happened a great deal in the past have now stopped,” he says. He adds if he sells three rababs and finds two events to perform at during a month, things go easy for him.
The maestro says he misses the times when weddings at villages occurred and artists performed. “This is a symbol of our culture and a core part of a music orchestra,” he says, adding, the practice needs to continue.
Optimistic about the future of the industry and his children’s future, Munir says education was important and while his children will study, they will also learn to play and make the rabab.
Published in The Express Tribune, September 7th, 2016.