6 days ago
Awadh's last mirasins struggle to keep their musical heritage alive
Umrana Niyazi hunkers down in her small verandah with her paan daan (betel leaf box) and sings Chhap tilak sab cheeni... mohse naina milaike (You have taken away my identity, my beauty, and everything that was mine... just by locking eyes with me), written and composed by Sufi poet and mystic Hazrat Amir Khusrau in braj bhasha, a western Hindi dialect. Her husky voice floats out into the lanes of old Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh, where she lives.
'Now people rarely call us to sing at mehfils [gatherings]. Times are changing but I hope our songs will continue to resonate with people. Otherwise, how will we survive?' asks the 51-year-old, who hails from the Mirasi community, a group of traditional singers and dancers commonly found in northern India and Pakistan.
The word 'mirasi' comes from the Arabic word, 'miras', meaning heritage. In Awadh, the Mirasins, or female singers, are traditionally invited to sing at auspicious events such as births, Aqeeqah (where a newborn's hair is shaved for the first time), Bismillah (when the child reads the Quran for the first time) and weddings.
Flagbearers of a dying tradition
Umrana and her sister Farzana, 45, are perhaps the last custodians of the musical heritage of the Mirasins, who enjoyed great popularity in the 19th century, when there was a surge in cultural nationalism. In response to the colonial rulers' disdain for Indian culture, talukdars, landowning Indian aristocratic families, began supporting artists, including the Mirasins, who became linked with their patron families.
'Though considered socially inferior to women from 'respectable' families, they received the patronage of nobles and royals,' says Rana Safvi, historian, translator and author of The Forgotten Cities of Delhi and Shahjahanabad: The Living City of Old Delhi.
Mirasins played a special role during weddings as they were invited to sing at every function. It would begin at the bride's home with Milad recitations in praise of the Prophet, followed by the haldi ceremony. There were songs to welcome the baraat (groom's party) and, after the nikaah (wedding), songs were sung to bid farewell to the bride.
Mirasins also sang at the bridegroom's home — while he tied the headdress or sehra, and when family members applied surma to his eyes. During the wedding, when families and friends gathered to bless the newlyweds, the Mirasins sang a Persian composition by Hazrat Sarmad Shaheed Shahana Mubarakbaad. 'Mirasins play a crucial role in preserving our cultural heritage. Their songs are a repository of our history,' says Safvi.
Umrana and Farzana are part of the third generation of their family keeping the tradition alive. Umrana remembers a time when Mirasins were paid generously. 'We travelled to Aligarh for a wedding in 1996 and received ₹81,000. It was a golden time for us,' says Umrana, who has been singing for almost 30 years without any formal training.
Her grandmother and mother were invited to sing at functions in Hindu homes, too. 'We sang Dadra, Thumri, and songs about Sawan, Basant, and Holi for wealthy Hindu families. But we are not invited any more,' she says.
Modernisation, gender norms contribute to decline
Patronage to Mirasins has been on a decline since the early 2000s. Many patrons, especially the talukdars, passed away or relocated to urban areas. As society modernised, traditional arts like those of the Mirasins came to be viewed as outdated, especially those performed by women from marginalised communities.
In some areas, growing religious conservatism has discouraged musical traditions, particularly those involving public performances by women, labelling them inappropriate. In a male-dominated society, the Qawwals or male singers from Mirasi families who perform at dargahs, enjoy a higher status and earn more. 'We don't get paid well because we can't perform on stage like men,' explains Umrana, adding that the men also use more musical instruments.
Traditionally, women in the Mirasin community were not allowed to play any musical instruments other than the dholak, which they learned informally. 'One person plays the dholak while the rest of us sing. If we had access to more musical instruments, we could enhance our songs and performances,' says Farzana.
As people migrated to cities, film music began gaining popularity. 'Many prefer to play film songs at their functions rather than traditional ones. I fear the Mirasins will eventually fade away from our society,' says Riyaz Ahmed, a 45-year-old Qawwal, who has been singing since the age of 20.
An heirless heritage
The next generation is not interested in carrying on the tradition. 'My children don't want to sing at people's homes like we do. My son says that the little fame and name I have earned is not enough to fill our stomachs,' says Farzana. 'I feel sad but understand why they are reluctant to take up a profession that is in danger of disappearing altogether.'
Umrana, who is unmarried, supports her three sisters and brother, and struggles to make ends meet. But she can't imagine doing any other work. 'Singing has been my entire life. However, when I meet good people through my work, I try my hand at matchmaking. If I am lucky, I earn generous amounts from both parties,' she says.
The writer is an independent journalist based out of Lucknow.
