The Nayik Ritual
Thursday 16th February - Ahichhatragarh Fort, Nagaur
Fareed Ayyaz Party - The art of Qawalli
Pakistan


The Pir mystics were for many, and in their own beliefs, at the origin of the conversion to Islam of the populations of the Indian subcontinent. These Sufi saints professed different turuq (plural of tariqa, mystic "way").

Some of them were buried in India and Pakistan and their sanctuaries, dargah, continue to be the object of important pilgrimages and festivals - the Urs. It is at these gatherings that we can see the singers of qawwali recite poetry primarily inspired by the Sufi tariqa Chishtiya, of Mu'în al-Dîn Chishtî, the founder of this brotherhood in India. “The qawwal singer does not sing for himself; he brings the listener into contact with the invisible, the immaterial, and guides him towards a perception of the impalpable aspect of the world. You come and sit at the mehfil (meeting) to listen with your soul�?. (Claire Devos "Qawali" - Editions du Makar)

Qawwali singing, the Sufi expression of the Indo Pakistani subcontinent, lives on thanks to qawwals stemming from the Chishti Order. This order dates back to the 12th century and assures the passing on of the singing from Pir master to Murid disciple.

These great singers can be heard performing their art during religious gatherings, facing the tomb or Dargah shrine of a Pir saint, surrounded by their disciples and the crowds at these traditional festivals.

The word qawwal comes from the Arabic ‘qaul’ meaning words, speech. The qawwals sing the sacred words of the inspired poet, in Persian, Hindi or Urdu, depending on the origin of the poetry.

Beyond the very sophisticated and emotional vocal effects, the singer must always devote himself to the gift of the word and of speech to bring about the state of grace – Amad.
"Wash my soiled shawl,
You have already washed hundreds of shawls for others,
The clothing of the body, with the soap of your soul
Wash the stains of our hearts,
I have little soap and plenty of dirty water,
Let me soak here.
Your heart is a river, and in the water that runs
Rub well to remove the stains. "
The world laughs at my grief but
I weep for the sorrow of the world"

(Poem dedicated to the saint Baba Farid Ganj-Shakar - 1265)