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On the banks of the Sangam, where the Ganga and the Yamuna converge, Azad Band’s 12-hour performance reaches a crescendo, enthralling its audience — a sea of saffron-clad sadhus at the Maha Kumbh in Uttar Pradesh’s Prayagraj.
A week after controversial statements by religious leaders of either side over the entry of Muslim traders in the mela, the 30-member band led by musicians from the community has become a symbol of tradition and resilience. For the band, which has been playing at the Kumbh for 40 years now, its music is more than just entertainment — it is a bridge, a prayer and a celebration of unity.
“Sangeet ek sagar hai. Iska koi ant nahi hai. Yeh Hindu-Muslim chalta rahega. Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb rahegi (Music is endless, like the ocean. Communal tensions will keep going on but the communities will remain united),” says bandmaster Mohammad Shabbir, his weathered face glowing with pride.
Controversial statements from religious leaders had created a flutter over the past week. While Maulana Shahabuddin Razvi Bareilvi, president, All India Muslim Jamaat, had alleged that the Kumbh was “being held on 55 bighas of Waqf land”, Swami Narendranath Saraswati of Varanasi’s Sumeru math had said, “If Sanatani Hindus are not allowed to enter Mecca, why should those people be allowed entry into the fair?”
However, many of these leaders changed tack after Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath stepped in to say that “here (at the Kumbh), there is no distinction of sect or caste”.
Following Adityanath’s remarks on “people who perceive Sanatan Dharma with a narrow mindset”, Akhil Bhartiya Akhada Parishad chief Mahant Ravindra Puri, who had earlier spoken out against traders from different communities, issued a plea for communal harmony. “If you see the labourers who work here, set up our ashrams, (they) are mostly non-Hindus…Many people who work in our akharas are Muslims. Take our bands for example, many of them are Muslims. We want those people to enter (the Kumbh) who follow Sanatan Dharma,” he had clarified.
Iqbal Mohammad of Azad Band says “music has no religion”. He says, “The Muslim community in Prayagraj mainly works as painters, scrap dealers, in the furniture market and plays in bands. My father also played at the Kumbh Mela. Our band is a hit among the sadhus.”
Like his father and grandfather before him, bandmaster Shabbir says he has dedicated his life to music. His band is a kaleidoscope of talents: Mehraj Ali is the lead trumpeter; Chand, the brass maestro; Guddu, a bhajan singer in his 60s who has attended quite a few Kumbh melas; and Ameen, the indefatigable drummer who carries a 7-kg drum for hours on end. Together, they create an infectious rhythm that makes them a favourite among the sadhus.
“We have been performing since December 2. This is our seventh peshwai (grand procession taken out by sadhus from their akhadas),” says Munna, a drummer whose father also played for the sadhus, adding that a peshwai is incomplete without music by bands like theirs.
“Babaji ko cassette nahi achha lagta. Unko band chahiye (Sadhus don’t like taped music. They want live bands),” explains brass maestro Chand, referring to the increasing dominance of DJs in weddings and festivals.
For the members of Azad Band, the Kumbh is both a spiritual and professional high point. During the processions, they play bhajans including ‘Ram Teri Ganga Maili’ and ‘Jai Ganesh’, songs that have become the soundtrack of devotion. If the sadhus are pleased, they reward the musicians with Rs 500-1,000; if not, the band must move on.
But making music is a gruelling task. The musicians walk 12 km daily, escorting the sadhus from one point to another, often playing for 12 to 16 hours at a stretch. They take quick breaks to wolf down roti-sabzi, snatch a few hours of sleep and return to the mela at dawn.
Despite the physical demands and precarious earnings, the band’s camaraderie shines through as they bicker over warm up tunes and patch up over a cup of tea.
For them, religious differences are irrelevant. “We don’t think in terms of Hindu-Muslim,” says Lalli, a singer. “I am Hindu, but I don’t think of my Muslim brothers as different. Most Hindu musicians have left this field. It’s our Muslim brothers who are keeping this art alive.”
Suresh, a brass player, echoes this sentiment, “Sangeet mil-jul ke karne wala kaam hai (Music is a collaborative art).”
Sadhu Bhavani Giri, who accompanied the band from Hanuman Mandir, says, “Hinduism takes everyone in its fold. The Sangam is for everyone. They (the band) are doing God’s work. Music is God.”
At the Maha Kumbh, considered one of the biggest religious congregations in the world, the band members start their day with namaz and end it with bhajans, seamlessly blending their faiths.
“There is so much anxiety about Hindu-Muslim issues outside, but here (in the band), we only care about music,” says Dablu Ali, a drummer who also works as a plumber during off-season.
Though many in Azad Band think of music not just as a passion, but also a lifeline, the rise of DJs and recorded music threatens their livelihood. Marriage season brings sporadic work, but life is a struggle during the rest of the year. Travelling outside their district for gigs costs upwards of Rs 70,000, leaving little profit, they say.
“Our fathers played for sadhus. We are doing the same now. But how much longer can this last?” Munna wonders aloud. “Why would I want my children to learn music? Music is dead. But we will keep fighting everyday to revive it.”
And yet, the band persists, driven by its love for the craft and the bonds that have been forged over the years. “Azad Band is not just a name; it’s our family,” says Shabbir. “We’ve married into each other’s families. Our children are growing up together. This is more than a business — it’s our way of life.”
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