Manjari Chaturvedi, a renowned Sufi Kathak dancer, embraces a philosophy where life isn’t confined by rigid categories. She gracefully navigates complexities, embodying a world where diverse spiritual traditions, like Bhakti and Raskhan, coexist beautifully. It’s a world where Hindus and Muslims celebrate together at the same shrines, and popular melodies such as ‘Dama Dam Mast Qalandar’ unite figures like the Sufi mystic Lal Shahbaz Qalandar and the Hindu deity Jhulelal in a shared embrace.
Raised in Lucknow by a space scientist father and a Hindi literature scholar mother, Manjari’s upbringing profoundly shaped her artistic vision. She absorbed the rich cultural tapestry of Sufism, Kathak, Qawwali, and the world of tawaifs – influences she describes as being “imbibed even if not taught in textbooks.” Despite modern attempts to erase Uttar Pradesh’s syncretic past, Chaturvedi notes that the musical communities she engages with continue to embody this harmonious blend, where figures like Lord Krishna seamlessly bridge Hinduism and Sufism.
Her profound connection with Qawwali began in 1994, sparked by film director Muzaffar Ali, who, after witnessing one of her Kathak performances, introduced her to the Sufi shrine of Dewa Sharif near Lucknow. Though rigorously trained in classical Kathak, Manjari was mesmerized. “I had never heard anything like this,” she recalls, “I immediately began immersing myself in the music.”
An image depicting Manjari Chaturvedi in a thoughtful pose, reflecting her work in preserving cultural heritage. She has compiled a book detailing the 700-year history of Qawwali.
Spinning like the Dervishes
Over the following years, Chaturvedi delved deeply into the art form, meticulously researching manuscripts in libraries and embarking on a transformative journey to Central Asia, a historical heartland of Sufism. This immersive study culminated in 1998 with the pioneering launch of Sufi Kathak. Her performances, often in stark black or white costumes, deliberately moved away from the vibrant hues typical of classical dancers.
In Sufi Kathak, her artistry transcended traditional devotional expressions, focusing instead on pure emotion and spiritual feeling. While classical Kathak’s intricate chakras (spins) highlight technical prowess, for Manjari, they transformed into a “moving meditation, inspired by the whirling dervishes.” Though critics praised her innovation, her peers and classical dance gurus were often resistant, with one famously walking out of a performance, disapproving of a classical dancer embracing folk music.
Twelve years ago, when Chaturvedi attempted to host her inaugural seminar on Qawwali, finding speakers was a considerable challenge. Fast forward to today, the upcoming seventh edition – anticipated to be the final one – promises a rich program featuring insightful talks, a compelling photo exhibition, and the grand release of her new book, among other events.
An image showing Manjari Chaturvedi, emphasizing her dedication to blending social issues with artistic expression.
An embedded Instagram reel showcasing Manjari Chaturvedi’s mesmerizing Sufi Kathak performance.
Stories and Self-Documenting
Manjari Chaturvedi possesses a wealth of knowledge about Qawwali. She shares an intriguing fact: while Hindi cinema has often borrowed Qawwali melodies from Sufi shrines, only one filmi qawwali, Kaifi Azmi’s ‘Maula Salim Chishti’ from the 1974 film Garm Hawa, is regularly performed at a shrine – specifically, the Salim Chishti Dargah in Fatehpur Sikri.
Her eagerly awaited book, Qawwali: The Call Of Hearts In Love, delves into the 700-year history of this profound art form, tracing its evolution from the era of Amir Khusro to its contemporary presence in places like Delhi’s bars. This extensive project began 14 years ago when Chaturvedi recognized the alarming absence of a comprehensive archive for this rich musical tradition. She highlights that “Qawwals are often illiterate, marginalized musicians, never seen on par with classical singers,” and, tragically, “even their own community doesn’t always acknowledge them as custodians of tradition and history.”
An embedded Instagram post featuring Manjari Chaturvedi’s work related to Qawwali.
To address this void, Chaturvedi initiated The Qawwali Project, a dedicated effort to archive and preserve Qawwali by empowering its practitioners. A cornerstone of this initiative is ‘I Am a Qawwal,’ a powerful self-documentation program enabling Qawwals to share their unique stories in their own voices.
Manjari notes that blending social issues with art often makes securing sponsors a lengthy process. Her book, she explains, is primarily the fruit of her personal dedication, complemented by the invaluable contributions of photographers Dinesh Khanna and Mustafa Quraishi. Furthermore, through the efforts of sound history collector Amar Nath Sharma, she uncovered a remarkable collection of recordings by forgotten women Qawwals.
The Erasure of the ‘Tawaif’
Manjari’s dedication naturally attracted Qawwals from across India. She soon found herself connecting with numerous groups, advocating tirelessly to facilitate their participation in cultural tours. This enabled artists like Wajahat Hussain Badayuni to perform at London’s Royal Festival Hall and Hyder Baksh Warsi to travel to Portugal. She also established a foundation to provide essential support, such as medical aid, a system that proved invaluable during the COVID-19 pandemic. “I’ve become everyone’s didi [elder sister],” she fondly remarks, adding that Qawwals reach out to her for everything, even help with visa applications.
This year’s Qawwali seminar will mark its final iteration, as Chaturvedi states, concluding “14 years of discussions and conversations around Qawwali.” Her attention now turns to an even older passion project: rectifying the historical misrepresentation of the region’s courtesans. She asserts that “Tawaifs were deliberately erased from performance art history in the post-Independence era by cultural guardians.”
“Hindi cinema,” Chaturvedi explains, “perpetuated the myth that tawaifs longed for salvation through marriage, hoping to transform into ‘good women’.” Yet, her research has unearthed letters from these women themselves, explicitly stating their lack of desire for marriage.
“One woman famously wrote, ‘I don’t want to be part of someone’s harem. I teach, I dance. I’m happy.’” Manjari Chaturvedi is committed to ensuring these powerful voices are finally heard.