Winter weddings and filmi music
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January being what it is, you probably have been to quite a number of weddings. Days prior to the wedding, your evening at the “gaye holud” probably ran something like this.
You fight traffic on the road for hours just to find a mile long queue at the venue gates. Fed up with waiting, you join the throngs of other guests braving the chill to walk the few last yards to the venue. Inside, the setting is picture perfect. The venue, menu, the grand setting of the wedding hall — nothing seems amiss. Even the most critical guests can only nod in appreciation! The flower arrangement done by the professionals no doubt. Orchids were probably flown in. The tables set with candles in small wrought iron stands.
The party has the look of a fashion house. The petite young girls arrive in kamiz, styled in oriental designs, ethnic patterns, thick embroidered silks and in lahengas. Short kamiz is certainly in vogue. Ladies adorned in stylish jewellery sparkling from every nook and corner of the marquee. Everything is serene…that is, just before the entertain-ment starts.
Well, it’d be “enter-tainment” if you like having a mega speaker blaring inches from your ear, and love a shouting conversation with your neighbouring friend. Needless to say, all the catching up, juicy talks die a sudden death.
The music begins with an unearthly blast, the speakers on the brink of an imminent internal combustion. The guests exchange unhappy glances looking up to see if the Chinese lanterns are holding up. The hosts shrug cheerily — “kids will be kids, they wanted to play some music.” Some guests desperately put their fingers in their ears to avoid the violent sonic torture. Some comment that the songs aren’t even in Bangla. When the band is requested to play some local songs, they are met by apologetic looks — “a bit later maybe? We haven’t practiced too many…”
What had happened to our good ol’ wedding songs? When did it become necessary to adopt filmi music in weddings?
Just a few years back, the ‘holud’ script ran differently. A month before the wedding took place young boys and girls would gather at the bride’s house and rehearse songs. “Lila balee,” “Biyar shajoney,” “Lal tuktukey bou jai go,” “Orey shampanwala,” “Holud bato mendi bato,” “Holud beguni shobuj shada neel” and countless other songs were sung on ‘gaye holud’. And the audience never failed to participate.
On the day of ‘holud’ we had ‘rang khela’. We waited for this day impatiently, as it was a special day of merry making for us. The boys bought the coloured powder from the market and mixed it with water. As soon as the bridal party arrived with the traditional sweets and fish, the ‘rang khela’ would begin.
No one was spared a good-humoured smearing. Often the colour lasted for weeks and washing for the nth time didn’t help! This occasion was held mostly in houses with big gardens to avoid spoiling the interiors. Often that wasn’t spared either. The cousins dyed a special sari for the bride on this day.
I remember holuds where there were ‘Qawwali’ sessions every night when great Qawwals came and performed. Special Kashmiri tea was served which was rich in aroma and content. Homemade ‘halwa’ and other sumptuous items were served. Then there were sessions of songs by the younger groups.
Then Feroze Shai appeared on the scene. He had a group of vocalists who performed at the wedding parties. The songs were all in Bangla. The instruments comprised dhol, harmonium, clarinets, percussions and so on. He had a tremendous impact on the audience, a grand success at the parties. After his sudden demise I have little idea of what happened to his band.
An enormous number of bands have now sprung up. But, except for a few, there is little originality among them. The leading groups have rightly taken the stage by storm. But most “other” groups are taking the easy route of copying chartbusters.
So much has changed in the last few years. The suburbs have been replaced by mega malls. Lakes have given way to community centres. The music culture, ever changing, has tried to evolve accordingly. But the crude concoction of the “deshi” and “bideshi” has clearly created confusion. Sentiments are of little value. Extreme sense of unequal competition has flared up to disproportionate degrees. The electronic media has been sending bizarre signals of latest trends and there has been a tendency to desperately copy rather than follow one’s own heritage.
The songs, such an anticipated part of our wedding programmes, are icings on the cake, not something to be dreaded as some people feel now! A welcome scene is however slowly emerging where new talents are once more reviving the folklore and traditional songs, although often wrapped in “fusion”. But even so, it’s a start, and certainly people would like to see more of local traditions once more taking centre stage. Because, we’d rather listen to songs that are refreshingly lively and not something that makes you wish you had stayed back home.
by Sadya Afreen Mallick
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