Patari Tabeer: A boon for voices lost without support

For Tabeer, they found voices that remain lost in small towns and crowded gullies, and launched them like superstars. Brohi, with his ‘Sibbi’ song, was one of their first prodigies.

Documentary film-maker Raza Shah spotted the young boy as he showed Shah around at the Sibbi mela. Shah recorded Brohi and his songs, which eventually reached the band Somewhatsuper and Patari. After a few mechanisations, Brohi was in the studio, recording his first song.

“When I spoke to Abid the day after the song was released, he told me he was crying tears of happiness, and kept thanking us profusely,” says Ahmer Naqvi, content director, Patari.

Abid Brohi recording ‘The Sibbi Song’. (Patari)

For Brohi, this was the answer to all those had mocked and ridiculed his dreams, reminding him he would never be able to achieve them. In his heart, Brohi knew he was on the right path. Even then, this has been a dream for him.

“This was the response that Nazar had too, who said that he always knew we wouldn’t let him down,” Naqvi says, “But had never imagined that this would be the response that he would get.”

Rawalpindi’s Nazar Gill, a 30-year old factory worker, comes with a brilliant mix of Jugni, an old classic completely reinvented with his unique voice. The youngest in the mix is 12-year old Jahangir. He looks much older for his age and comes with a voice that is matured beyond his years. Jahangir serves tea in an office in Rohri in interior Sindh. The people in his office recorded a video of him singing and it instantly went viral; but Jahangir was to have more than 15 minutes of fame as Patari found him and trained him to produce the magical ‘Chhita Chola’.

Patari also brought folk singers of Sindh together. This group of four included a Hindu shrine singer, a music teacher and his student and the last performer of a 5000-year old instrument.

Interestingly, songs from the margins also became songs of protest. The launch of Lyari Underground with Patari Tabeer was not just important for music but also for Lyari, a town near Karachi rife with gang wars tension. The music is one way to bring an alternate musical history of the town itself. Similarly, their final find Malala Gul didn’t stop singing during times of war and unrest. Patari gave her the opportunity to record a song in the studio.

The Lyari Underground Rappers bonding with Abid Brohi. (Facebook.com/LyariUnderground)

Picking up talent from the lower classes, however, always brings with it the huge class divide where one is the benefactor and one is the benevolent provider. The thin line between helping someone and patronising them can then be a very dangerous one. Few months ago, a “chaiwalla” from Pakistan became the fetish of camera lenses. His looks aside, it was important to understand his identity: not many knew him by name and “chaiwallah” became his dominant identity, implying the idea that no one from his class could possibly possess the kind of features he does.

Brohi, too, ran the risk of doing the same ‘fetishising’ and was a conundrum that the makers were fully aware of.

“There is no doubt that the exoticism and fetishism of their poverty plays a part. What separated us from the ‘chaiwalla’ was that our artists had us directly managing their exposure, and moreover got into it anticipating the reaction rather than being taken by surprise,” says Ahmer Naqvi, adding that he would want to maintain the quality of the songs of these singers.

“If we abandon them they won’t be able to access the opportunities they deserve. Also if they say yes to every offer then it would become open to both exploitation as well as low quality output. We don’t want to end it right now but rather give them a sustainable career,” he says.

The makers want each of them to produce at least one more single and appear in live performances. Brohi has even starred in an advertisement.

Even with all the achievements in its patari, the founders believe they are still taking first steps.

“We always believed in the potential of Pakistani music but Tabeer really realised what we had imagined we could make it to be,” Naqvi says. “However we don’t want to rest on our laurels but rather see this as the first of many steps.”