‘I am no icon, I just fight for the truth’
Iranian singer Mahsa Vahdat was at the World Sufi Spirit Festival at Jodhpur this week. She spoke on being an inspiration to her students, which, in turn, gives her the strength to sing against all odds in Iran
On a windy Monday evening, the gentle notes of Persian Sufi mystic and poet Rumi’s poetry streamed out from the orange windows of the intricately painted Phul Mahal at the Mehrangarh Fort, Jodhpur. The singing was accompanied by the gentle notes of the ney (a Persian flute). Inside, a spellbound audience hugged their knees to their chest, intently absorbing every word; their eyes trained on one person.
Mahsa Vahdat sat in the front of the darbar, one hand raised as if in prayer, the other one gently beating the daf (an ancient Persian frame drum). This 39-year-old popular Iranian Sufi singer, one half of the Vahdat sisters, was performing as part of the recently-concluded World Sufi Spirit Festival at Jodhpur.
indian connection
This is Vahdat’s third visit to India- she performed ten years ago at the Jahan-e-Khusrau festival in Delhi and then at the Spic Mackay festival in Punjab. She is slowly warming up to Indian audiences and their love for Persian Sufi. “India and Iran have a lot in common and Indian audiences can understand my music very easily. Historically, we’ve had exchanged a lot of poetry and even have some words in common,” she says.
Performing in India, for her, is inspiring. Performing freely for her countrymen back home is an as-yet-unfulfilled dream.
Invisible yet famous
When Vahdat walks the streets and markets of her home in Tehran, she is an invisible. “Most people don’t even know I live in Iran,” she says. They may not recognise her on the streets, but they know her music, have access to it, have listened to it and are lifelong fans. “Everyday I get devoted messages from my people. They ask me things like ‘when will you perform at Iran’ and ‘why are we in this situation in our country?’”.
The ‘situation’ in question is the strict censorship that Iran has imposed on cultural expression, particularly for a female voice. After the Islamic Revolution in 1979 in Iran, female artists could not perform in public or for a male audience for a long time. “Art is controlled. If you want to publish anything, or have a concert, it should be confirmed by the cultural minister. And it only gets worse for women singers,” says Vahdat, who along with her younger sister, Marjan, still performs at private concerts.
Despite being summoned twice for flouting the censorship rules, Vahdat is happy to continue singing as long as her voice is heard within the country. “Censorship is stupid. It is foolish not to be able to perform for your people. It is more challenging for people who are against the truth, because, even with all these restrictions, people still have access to me and my work,” she says.
touching lives
A strong belief in her work and the way it touches people’s lives is what gives Vahdat’s voice a unique power, she believes. While growing up, Vahdat saw many limitations and problems around her and says she drew strength from them. “I like doing this because it gives me a lot of energy and encouragement,” she says.
Vahdat, who sings classical Persian poetry, imbibed the love for poetry from her father. Many of her songs are directly inspired by her grandmother, from whom she learnt the real mood and meaning of songs.
Vahdat has a powerful voice, one that can hit the high notes and then fall gently into the lower ones with relative ease. When singing, Vahdat usually keeps her eyes shut, her hands move with the rhythm of the music and her face is a picture of serenity. There is a gentle harmony between her and the instruments, the louder ney and the gentler daf.
The poems she picks are classical and contemporary, the music very traditional and regional, mingled with her own expression. She says she has derived this form of expression from meeting and interacting with people over the years, and it is an expression of her country’s rich cultural history.
Given the turmoil, the thought of leaving Iran has entered every Iranian mind at some time or another — but not Vahdat’s. “Something kept me back, made me stay. I have a lot of students at home and I hope to inspire them. For me, that matters the most,” she says.
“But”, she adds, “I am no icon.”
Iranian singer Mahsa Vahdat was at the World Sufi Spirit Festival at Jodhpur this week. She spoke on being an inspiration to her students, which, in turn, gives her the strength to sing against all odds in Iran
On a windy Monday evening, the gentle notes of Persian Sufi mystic and poet Rumi’s poetry streamed out from the orange windows of the intricately painted Phul Mahal at the Mehrangarh Fort, Jodhpur. The singing was accompanied by the gentle notes of the ney (a Persian flute). Inside, a spellbound audience hugged their knees to their chest, intently absorbing every word; their eyes trained on one person.
Mahsa Vahdat sat in the front of the darbar, one hand raised as if in prayer, the other one gently beating the daf (an ancient Persian frame drum). This 39-year-old popular Iranian Sufi singer, one half of the Vahdat sisters, was performing as part of the recently-concluded World Sufi Spirit Festival at Jodhpur.
indian connection
This is Vahdat’s third visit to India- she performed ten years ago at the Jahan-e-Khusrau festival in Delhi and then at the Spic Mackay festival in Punjab. She is slowly warming up to Indian audiences and their love for Persian Sufi. “India and Iran have a lot in common and Indian audiences can understand my music very easily. Historically, we’ve had exchanged a lot of poetry and even have some words in common,” she says.
Performing in India, for her, is inspiring. Performing freely for her countrymen back home is an as-yet-unfulfilled dream.
Invisible yet famous
When Vahdat walks the streets and markets of her home in Tehran, she is an invisible. “Most people don’t even know I live in Iran,” she says. They may not recognise her on the streets, but they know her music, have access to it, have listened to it and are lifelong fans. “Everyday I get devoted messages from my people. They ask me things like ‘when will you perform at Iran’ and ‘why are we in this situation in our country?’”.
The ‘situation’ in question is the strict censorship that Iran has imposed on cultural expression, particularly for a female voice. After the Islamic Revolution in 1979 in Iran, female artists could not perform in public or for a male audience for a long time. “Art is controlled. If you want to publish anything, or have a concert, it should be confirmed by the cultural minister. And it only gets worse for women singers,” says Vahdat, who along with her younger sister, Marjan, still performs at private concerts.
Despite being summoned twice for flouting the censorship rules, Vahdat is happy to continue singing as long as her voice is heard within the country. “Censorship is stupid. It is foolish not to be able to perform for your people. It is more challenging for people who are against the truth, because, even with all these restrictions, people still have access to me and my work,” she says.
touching lives
A strong belief in her work and the way it touches people’s lives is what gives Vahdat’s voice a unique power, she believes. While growing up, Vahdat saw many limitations and problems around her and says she drew strength from them. “I like doing this because it gives me a lot of energy and encouragement,” she says.
Vahdat, who sings classical Persian poetry, imbibed the love for poetry from her father. Many of her songs are directly inspired by her grandmother, from whom she learnt the real mood and meaning of songs.
Vahdat has a powerful voice, one that can hit the high notes and then fall gently into the lower ones with relative ease. When singing, Vahdat usually keeps her eyes shut, her hands move with the rhythm of the music and her face is a picture of serenity. There is a gentle harmony between her and the instruments, the louder ney and the gentler daf.
The poems she picks are classical and contemporary, the music very traditional and regional, mingled with her own expression. She says she has derived this form of expression from meeting and interacting with people over the years, and it is an expression of her country’s rich cultural history.
Given the turmoil, the thought of leaving Iran has entered every Iranian mind at some time or another — but not Vahdat’s. “Something kept me back, made me stay. I have a lot of students at home and I hope to inspire them. For me, that matters the most,” she says.
“But”, she adds, “I am no icon.”
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