Summers in Pakistan for me have always been associated with heat, monsoon rains, and mangoes. The last bit is invariably my favorite part, and Ambwa encompasses all of the above-mentioned elements. The song is a soothing balm for the inevitably scorching summer heat that everyone struggles to survive, and many still manage to romanticize.
The opening shot sets the scene with a tree, bathed in partial light and shadow, positioned at the center of the asymmetrical background, acting as the focal point and grounding the viewer. In the foreground, Muslim Shaggan is seen with a microphone and harmonium, offering a cool relief for restless hearts and minds to dip into. His classical training under his grandfather, the legend Ustad Ghulam Hassan Shaggan, is evident even to the most untrained ears.
Since the partition, there have been vigorous attempts to separate the identities of India and Pakistan, leading to a cultural erasure that persists, albeit incompletely. Even now, our cultures, arts, and lives continue to intersect. Shaggan is a vocalist from Lahore, Pakistan, and a descendant of Rababi musicians who eventually adopted the Gwalior Gharana, one of the oldest styles of Hindustani vocal music. Similarly, the word aam itself can be traced back to the Sanskrit word aamra-phalam, which eventually evolved into aam-phal in Hindi and aam-kay in Tamil. Interestingly, aamba is considered to be mango pickle in Middle Eastern countries such as Palestine. The point of describing this lineage of musicians, and of words, is that heritage matters because it provides context.
But this heritage is often overlooked, or ignorance is adopted as if anything in this world exists in isolation. This phenomenon is common in the commodification of music. Commercial jingles such as Shama Banaspati Oil’s ad heavily sampled Mannubhai Motor Chali Pum Pum Pum by Kishore Kumar which is something that the younger generation is unlikely to realize and can cause a disconnect. Another prominent example is the latest season of Coke Studio Pakistan which has gotten acclaim for creating Sindhi and Pashto songs that have historically been underrepresented in Pakistan. However, to give a holistic view of any subculture it needs more voices from that subculture and go beyond the surface-level features which may promote exoticism but are unlikely to create concrete bridges across time or people.
This release by Muslim Shaggan comes from the music label, honiunhoni, which is run by Daniyal Ahmed, an ethnomusicologist and musician, who goes into the historical nitty gritty of songs even in their YouTube descriptions. Honiunhoni has a following on Instagram, particularly for Ahmed’s adventures with the Baloch Benju player, Ustad Noor Bakhsh and Doshambay. Daniyal records music that he doesn’t consider classical per se, as it often refers to the past, which has become static. Instead, he prefers shastriya sangeet because it is an amalgamation of sangat and geet. He captures musicians in their element, thus preserving the exact moment and the world that envelops them.
With Ambwa, one can discern that the recording took place during daylight in a park, accompanied by the sounds of crows flying overhead, even without watching the music video. In contrast to the enclosed nature of studio recordings, this style carries a special charm. It's not to say that the sound design for these songs is not refined; however, they transport the listener not just to what a musician felt at the time but also where they were.
Author’s note: Special thanks to Zainab Sattar, for always guiding me on the history of Pakistani and Indian music
so good! legendary crossover, Hamnawa X honiunhoni