In June 2021, an employee at singer-songwriter Peter Gabriel’s Real World Records uncovered four rapturous qawwalis by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan—one of them never taped anywhere else—in a warehouse. Last month, these traditional compositions were presented as Chain of Light and just like that, a forgotten album recorded 34 years ago has returned the legendary Pakistani Sufi singer to popular consciousness and playlists. For one man in Punjab, however, the artist left neither consciousness nor playlist over the past three-and-a-half decades.
Chain of Light album has four songs: ‘Ya Allah Ya Rehman,’ ‘Aaj Sik Mitran Di,’ ‘Ya Gaus Ya Meeran,’ and ‘Khabram Raseed Imshab.’
“I want to quit Khan saab. But Khan saab isn’t willing to quit me,” says Sandeep Rawal, a Moga resident who works in consumer electronics sales. Khan is Rawal’s only acknowledged vice. A habit the 49-year-old formed at 13 — too young to grasp the singer’s full artistry but old enough to latch on to a celebrity who sang in his mother tongue Punjabi. The ustad’s music and memorabilia have slowly assumed control of two of the three rooms in his home, which is now by turns a museum, shelter, and shrine for Nusrat fans. “I am still trying to understand him,” Rawal admits.
Sandeep Rawal poses near a Nusrat mural in Pakistan. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
From hobby to madness
Khan’s voice had a flair for grounding harmonies as well as throaty cries that leapt skyward like fists of smoke. ‘Ya Gaus Ya Meeran’, the previously unheard recording included in the new album, is a study in how qawwali can animate divine awareness in listeners. Khan and his chorus of singers set the sama (‘listening’) with layers of Pakistani scholar Naseeruddin Naseer Gilani’s verse, rhythmic tabla, pulsing claps, successive solos, and two whole minutes of ecstatic chanting.
Similarly feverish in construction is Rawal’s devotion for Khan. In his own words, it intensified from “shauk” (hobby) to “junoon” (passion) to “pagalpan” (madness).
But it was not love at first hearing. When a young Rawal was introduced to strains of the Sufi ustad in his uncle’s car in 1988, he had wanted to change tracks. “Nusrat saab’s qawwalis go on for half an hour. I was used to the three-minute songs of Kishore (Kumar) da and Lata (Mangeshkar) ji.” His mother, who recites shabad kirtan at the gurdwara, stepped in with a music appreciation lesson that stayed with him.
Rawal sporting a tattoo dedicated to Khan. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Saving ₹10-₹12 at a time, he began adding Khan’s cassettes to a collection that is among the most prolific today. As is the case for many fans in Punjab, shared heritage deepened Rawal’s affection: his ancestral town Nankana Sahib (present-day Pakistan) is close to Faisalabad where Khan was born into a family of qawwals.
Rawal’s hunt for collectibles led him to more than 1,500 albums — including cassettes from T-Series, HMV and Magnasound in India, the Pakistan Music Company, and global CDs, VCDs and LPs. He continues to source every photograph, letter, and newspaper clipping that traces Khan’s rise in the subcontinent and the West.
Sandeep Rawal with the caretaker of Nusrat’s grave in Faisalabad. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
A biopic in the works
By the mid-80s, Khan was an international phenomenon. “He’s my Elvis,” said the late American musician Jeff Buckley about the polyglot whose fans also included Madonna, Michael Jackson, The Rolling Stones and Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder. It was Khan’s debut at the U.K.’s historic WOMAD festival in 1985 that put qawwali on the global map, launching his landmark collaborations with English singer-songwriter Peter Gabriel whose Real World Records later signed him on. Not long after, Khan’s powerful voice featured in the soundtrack of Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) through Gabriel’s album Passion.
Khan remained a beloved fixture across U.K. stages for most of the 90s. “He performed for ₹25 and ₹25 lakh,” Rawal says of his hero’s willingness to put on shows at both a Slough gurdwara and at the Royal Albert Hall. With an average of six million monthly Spotify listeners and a billion views on YouTube for his music videos, the singer will be resurrected in a 2025 biopic titled Ustad.
Meanwhile, among Rawal’s other prized possessions are Khan’s face etched on his right arm, a locket, and a bust. Rawal’s wife and two children share space with this ever-expanding hoard: “Dil bada toh ghar bada (A big heart needs little room),” he says. On Sundays, they throw open their doors to visitors. One annual guest is Pierre Alain-Baud, a French scholar on Khan, who likes to exchange notes with Rawal.
Sandeep Rawal with Pierre Alain Baud, a scholar of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s music. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Making of a shrine
In the past, this obsession has regularly led Rawal out of Moga, a town that is primarily known for its Nestle factory. To Kolkata, where cassettes used to hit markets sooner. To Jalandhar, where Khan’s ancestral home still stands. To Pakistan — travelling with subsidised Sikh jathas (delegations) — where at Khan’s grave he picked up yet another artefact: a handful of earth.
These tours also introduced the fan to people who knew the artist—nephew Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, accompanists Dildar Hussain and Ilyas Hussain, and Haji Iqbal, his manager in England. From them he collected memories. For instance, Khan practiced with a harmonium and microphone on his bed, put away only while sleeping. He never failed to credit songwriters. He was fond of sweets. Not-so-sweet were the words he had for the chorus if they erred during a show.
Sandeep Rawal’s Nusrat cassette collection. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Rawal’s Khan quest involves intangible acquisitions too. Recently, he learnt Urdu “to relish and understand songs like Mere Rashke Qamar.” The most reliable teacher, however, was heartbreak. A failed young romance—with a Nusrat fan—pulled Rawal closer to the singer’s magic. “Dard hua toh aur maja aane laga, samajh aane laga. (Pain helped me enjoy and know the music better.”) The hardest pain of all came with Khan’s passing in 1997 at the age of 48. “It was the day the music died.”
Khan continues to dominate the charts. Fan groups on Facebook and WhatsApp display brotherhood from both sides of the border. For Rawal’s last birthday, a stranger from Lahore sent him “his life savings” — 250 cassettes and 150 CDs.
Despite these tiny miracles, the fan’s collection is missing an item. “Nusrat saab performed at Rishi Kapoor’s wedding in 1980. I don’t have footage of it.” He has decided not to “quit Khan saab” until this forgotten piece is found.
The feature writer is based in Mumbai.
Published - October 17, 2024 01:44 pm IST
