Sashar Zarif and Alim Qasimov Take the Azerbaijani Art of
Mugham to New Heights:
Zarif beautifully melded together the various aspects of his
multifaceted identity, taking the audience on a spiritual journey from
the mountains of Azerbaijan and the gardens of Persia to the steppes of
Turkistan
Detail of a Persian miniature depicting the defeat of Sheybani Khan and the Uzbeks at the hands of Shah Ismail and the Safavids. Courtesy REORIENT
by Joobin Bekhrad, REORIENT
The Caucasus – that mythical land of mountains, valleys, and steppes –
has always held a peculiar, inextricable place within the depths of my
soul. Don’t bother asking me why, though, as I myself have yet to relate
the beginnings and sparks of this romance. I didn’t fall in love with a
picture, as the Persian lovers of old often did, nor was my imagination
made fertile by the apple of a wandering dervish or the devices of a
wily matchmaker. Perhaps something long dormant within the recesses of
my being was set alight when I read of the picaresque adventures of the
rebellious Koroghlu, the flowery affair of Taher and Zohreh, the
tribulations of David of Sassoon, the plight of Rusthaveli’s Man in the
Panther’s Skin, or the valorous deeds and escapades of the nomadic Turks
of old, as sung to the sounds of the
kopuz by the bard Dede Korkut. Or, maybe it was the cry of the itinerant
asheghs, and
the hauntingly beautiful folk melodies of a region likely older than
history itself. As they say in the Persian Sufi tradition, however,
where there is love, there is no room for reason.
Of all the fabled lands of the Caucasus, Azerbaijan has perhaps
intrigued me the most. The land of fire (as it translates from the
Persian) where Zarathustra’s flame once burned bright, is a fascinating
hybrid of sorts. Having been an integral part of the Persian Empire,
once served as a bastion of the Zoroastrian faith, and given rise to
illustrious Persian poets such as Nezami (of
Leila & Majnun fame)
and Khaghani Shirvani, there’s an unmistakable Iranian element at play
in the culture and identity of this nation. At the same time, however,
there also exists a strong Turkic undercurrent, which has beautifully
merged with the former. Through waves of migration by Turkic nomads from
Central Asia, as well as Iranian politics, the outward Persian identity
of Arran – as the land was referred to by throughout the annals of time
until only recently, owing to political reasons – was slowly displaced
by a new Turkic one. Although the Seljuks first laid the foundations in
the 11
th Century during their exodus from the ancestral
Turkic homeland in Central Asia through Iran towards Byzantium, it was
perhaps the Persian Safavids – a dynasty with Turkic origins – who
brought about the ‘turning point’, when they replaced the ancient
Iranian Azari language in Azerbaijan (i.e. the western Iranian province)
and Arran with a Turkic tongue, and zealously promoted Turkic culture
and customs among the populace – not to mention making Shia Islam the
official state religion of Iran, as an affront to their bitter rivals to
the West, the Sunni Ottomans.
