Kabir Today: Can Qawwali And Metal Rock Call Us Back To His Spirituality?

On the way to Panch Ganga ghat, one crosses Manikarnika, the burning ghat where Hindu last rites and cremation rituals are performed twenty-four hours a day. As you look at the flames and fumes erupting from the ghat, helplessly pondering about your own ways of living and being, you are interrupted by an uncanny sight: a small boat, still with a girl in a bright, sparkly lavender lehenga, facing her soon-to-be groom while a cameraman, afloat on another boat, attempts to capture their love.

This is the inherent contradiction of Varanasi. For some, it is the city of Shiva; for others, the parliamentary constituency of Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Many cannot look away from the Gyanvapi mosque, locked within the complex of the Kashi Vishwanath temple. People often forget that another kind of spirituality also exists within the folds of this place—Kabir’s, for Kashi is his city as much as anyone else’s.

At sundown, as the boat reached the shores of Guleria Kothi, where the ninth edition of the Mahindra Kabira Festival was being held from December 19 to 21, five priests had begun performing the Ganga aarti. Using large brass oil lamps, they moved in synchrony to the tune of the tabla and the beats of drums, offering their prayers. As one climbed up to the entrance of the venue, the stage was set for Rehmat-e-Nusrat. Sarvjeet Tamta, vocalist, harmonium virtuoso and lead of the qawwali group, opened the evening with Kabir’s well-known doha (couplet): “Chakki chalti dekh kar, diya Kabira roy. Do patan ke beech mein, saabut bacha na koy.” Singing to the audience, he posed Kabira’s questions aloud: “What is this grinding mill that keeps turning? And what are the two stones that drive it?” The answer followed: “The mill is existence, and the two stones driving it—life and death. No one comes out of it unscathed.”

While Kabir’s verses are more popularly performed in the bhajan tradition, the qawwali rendition by the group from Kumaon hills, Uttarakhand, truly inaugurated the festival as one capturing the layered cultural syncretism of India so intrinsic to Banaras as a city. Renowned Hindustani classical musician, Rahul Deshpande, performed Kabir’s “Udd Jayega Hans Akela” in the Marathi devotional poetic form, ‘Abhanga’ (Uninterrupted). The form was delivered in its truest sense, with Deshpande keeping the audience on edge as they could not anticipate the conclusion of the performance. The singer hit a sharper note just when it seemed like the performance would end. Though the Marathi tradition emerges from Varkari saint-poets like Namdev and Tukaram, it shares a philosophical resemblance to Kabir’s work and Bhakti tradition—singing to a nameless or religiously ambiguous God.

When asked if hosting a festival dedicated to Kabir, when religious tensions are on the rise, moves the event to assume a larger social meaning, Sanjoy Roy, Managing Director of Teamwork Arts, the producer of the event, shared: “Kabir was always political. If he walked the earth today, he'd be sued for sedition and imprisoned like Sonam Wangchuk. Kabir's politics has always been questioning the traditional understanding of religion. So, each of us has a responsibility today to recognise India's syncretic tradition.” He added, “Our original scriptures never really talked about the idea of temple worship till the 6th-7th centuries, when wars led to the victorious people building something to commemorate their power over a region, starting this ginormous temple tradition that you see today. So, it is our responsibility as human beings to connect people through music, nature and spirituality. The Mahindra Kabira Festival is something that's celebrated across the religious divide because it's not about religion, it's about spirituality.”

True to this spirit, the second venue of the festival, Shivala Ghat, echoed Kabir’s verses in genre-blending performances by Aditya Prakash Ensemble and Agam. Formed by vocalist and composer Aditya Prakash, the ensemble blended South Indian Carnatic music with jazz, folk, rock and classical styles. Chris Votek played the cello, and Vishnu R the Navtaar—a nine-string hybrid instrument inspired by the Sarod, Sitar and the Guitar—as part of the ensemble. Together, they performed Kabir’s “Moko Kahan Dhundhe Re Bande”.

When asked about the role that the mixing of genres plays in transmitting Kabir’s message, Prakash said, “The poetry of Kabir is revolutionary and works beautifully with music. I thought of Kabir as a saint, as someone who is very peaceful and calm, but he was rebellious and a revolutionary. Sometimes, his words can be violent or disturbing, but they can also be tender and loving. I wanted my music to reflect this emotional wholeness without focusing on just the beautiful parts. Contemporary arrangements are only a response to Kabir because he will always be relevant. His poetry will keep adapting to the times as we move forward.”

The finale performance by Agam, India’s first Carnatic progressive rock band, took the audience members by surprise, inviting even passersby to gather at the steps of the ghat to listen to Kabir bhajans in loud metal rock under the open night sky.

When asked how Kabir’s idea of a single, accessible spirituality devoid of caste, religion and other barriers aligns with their music, Harish Sivaramakrishnan, Indian playback singer and lead vocalist of the group, shared: “We are a metal music band, but what makes us different is that we place South Indian classical music on top of it. The sub-genre that we represent sets a good example of no confinement. We are rebellious by design because no one would necessarily think an age-old music form could work with something loud and aggressive like metal music. Like Kabir, we believe there's nothing that could limit you as long as you're looking at the right purpose and pushing towards it.”

As the night concluded, people slowly dispersed—some into the narrow lanes of Banaras, others towards their moored boats, and some continued to sit by the shore sipping on lemon tea. Somewhere upstream, Manikarnika continued to burn. Kabir would not be surprised, as Varanasi is not meant to be resolved. Here, life, death, devotion, and dissent coexist, and each year, the Mahindra Kabira Festival amplifies the city’s and Kabir’s spirit with performances from diverse musical forms and styles.