When the music stopped

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The Hindu

Ustad Sabri Khan. Photo S. Subramanium

Pupils of all ages reflected on Ustad Sabri Khan’s life as his body was laid to rest.

Scores of men, young and old, hung around outside Masjid Bhoori Bhatyari on Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg. Some had probably come to the masjid after a long time, for others it was a rare occasion to be present for the Zuhr – afternoon – prayers. They went about their business of taking off their shoes and placing them on the rack assigned for the purpose with the confidence of a newcomer. Ablutions too were attended to with the same mix of anxiety and shyness. Inside the masjid lay Ustad Sabri Khan, his 88-year-old body covered in a white shroud. On top lay a green sheet with the Kalima, the first tenet of Islam, written across it. Music had gone out of life. Indeed, life had gone out of the ustad, who had a quick, non-painful departure from this world following breathing problems. As one of his shagirds told me, “The end was swift. He was at home. The doctors pronounced him dead on arrival.”

Just a couple of yards away on the prayer mat sat his son, well known sarangi exponent Ustad Kamal Sabri. Behind him was the other son Jamal. As they said a silent prayer before the imam gathered the faithful, some fans and followers of the ustad could barely conceal their sorrow. “I had known him since the ’70s,” one man offered, adding, “His actions spoke of a man of rare pedigree. It is a loss not just for his family but for all those who came under his influence or in contact with him. Aur jo contact mein aaya unke, woh ek tarah se shagird hi ban gaya.”

A man, clearly younger by a few decades, nodded. “Unki taleem ka tareeqa alag thha. We are very young but we have grown up listening to these things about him.” Meanwhile, I went and sat with Kamal. The imam was about to start the afternoon prayers, limiting our interaction.

Some seven minutes later, he requested all those assembled to file for the Namaaz-e-Janaaza of the ustad. Hundreds stood shoulder to shoulder in row after row, approximately forty men in each row. On Kamal’s request, in less than a minute, the imam explained about the procedure of prayer. Over the next two minutes or so, the prayer was over and done with. And soon, the ustad’s last journey was underway. As the faithful pronounced the Kalima with each step, the admirers of the ustad jostled to lend a shoulder to the body. Each individual doing his duty with respect. Each step reminding us of the ephemeral nature of life. As the bier went out of the masjid, one last time, a man reminded Kamal to recite the Quran at the grave of the maestro. He nodded, “I have a copy of the Quran in my pocket. I will read from it.” From dust to dust, Unto Him shall we all return. The ustad too, one hopes, has found lasting peace.