A song that is probably tainting all playlists since the past month is “Pasoori”. I say “taint” because the melting sound of this song liquidates the divide of like-dislike and rigid understanding of genres.
Unlike the “traditional” execution of “Coke Studio” songs, we do not see the singer sitting in front of a microphone. Ali Sethi appears as a colourful character, boldly walks in the frame and interrupts the beats, as his voice takes over:
“Aag laavan majboori nu (let’s burn the helplessness/worries),
aan jaan di pasoori nu (and the conflicts of coming and going).
Zehar banay haan teri (if your love is poison),
pee jaavan main poori nu (I’ll drink it in a flurry).”
Pasoori’s Lyrics Have Two Main Sections
The lyrics of the song seem to have two sections: one of them is the exotic expression of passionate lovers reprimanding each other for the distance between them.
“Mere dhol judaiyaan di tenu khabar kivain hovey (my love, you would not know what separation is),
aa javay dil tera poora vi na hovay (hope your heart falls in love and never fulfils it).”
In the second section, the concluding part endorses translational unification against the idea of separation.
“Raawan ch baawan ch o nu lukaawan (I’ll hide them and bide them in loving embraces),
koi mainu na roke (no one can stop me).
Mere dhol judaiyaan di sardaari na hovay (my love, don’t let this distance reign),
dildaaran di sab yaaran di aazari na hovay (don’t let lovers be in pain).”
Pasoori Stands For Kashmakash Or Conflict
By translational, I mean the liminal space made of intersecting expressions with no definite origins. The translational space of music foregrounds our inherent sharing of cultures in Pasoori. It opens with a fusion of instruments and stills of various figures in exotic costumes.
The camera gradually zooms in on Sheema Kermani portraying gestures that verbalise the tune. While aural shades supplement the visual colour pallet, the visuals depict variety of emotions, styles and ethos.
Instruments as varied as mandolin, baglama, keyboard, synthesizer and drums, accent the sense of translation. In the BTS (behind the scenes) video, Ali explains that pasoori means conflict, kashmakash or oscillation. For him, it tries to depict an oppressive separation that bars people from being together.
Hashim Ali, the set designer, describes the set as a “communal space”, where artists share humanity through ethnicity, variety of emotions and style.
Pasoori Is All About “Uncontrol”
Overall, the song promotes uncontrol (not the exploitative lack of control), which seems necessary for the times we are living in—uncontrol over cultures, identities, love and commonalities between people. It makes us understand the relevance of organic associations that we share across the globe.
Ali Sethi describes himself as “a modern-day gipsy who lives between the US and Pakistan.” The crisscrossed sense of identity violates controlled definitions.
Ali tells us that he saw the line “agg lawaan teriyan majburiyaan nu” (set fire to your worries) on a truck, while travelling from Lahore to Faislabad.
He got to know about his co-singer, Shae Gill, from his friend who shared her Instagram post with him. The uncontrol can also be seen in how organically the song was executed.
Pasoori Asks Us To Reimagine The World
For Ali, the song tries to make a case for an alternative option of the right to free movement of ideas, melodies and songs. Pasoori embodies this alternative in “the age of a polarised world where boundaries have become more raging.”
The song presents a dream of a universal language of democratic aesthetics, that would offer a common ground for people to interact with each other.
Pasoori reminds me of the analogy used by the American scientist Warren Weaver while describing translation. Weaver asks his readers to imagine individuals living in a series of tall closed towers, all erected over a common foundation.
When they try to communicate, they shout at each other. If one of these individuals descends the tower, they find themselves in an open basement, common to all the towers. Here, they establish a comfortable communication with persons who have also descended from their towers.
Pasoori Urges Us To Transcend All Boundaries
So, to translate is not to attempt a direct route, shouting from tower to tower. Perhaps, the way is to descend, from each language (hence, culture) down to the common base of human communication, and then, to convey our feelings by whatever route is convenient.
The dialogue with cultures in Pasoori and almost all the songs (e.g. Tu Jhoom, Mehram or Phir Milenge) in Coke Studio 14, offer this common ground. They appeal to us to transcend boundaries, borders and binaries. They make us feel a sense of “being-in-common.”
These song societies reveal the coexistence of inclusive parts of our identities.
Since last month, I have been interacting with many people because of Pasoori. People who are different from me, and yet, are part of a “we”; a “we” where “I” is not lost.
It is not formulated by prescribed rules of a community but expressed in an unconventional commonality reconfigured with alternative voices inventing new ways of seeing, hearing and thinking.
Pasoori Is All About Coming Together
What I write here doesn’t want to be understood. It may not reach you the way I wanted. However, I am sure we will find a common ground where we can hear each other and translate ourselves. We shall share the pasoori (conflicts) of understanding and misunderstanding; of an I and we.
It is only through this that the separation won’t be able to reign. We shall imagine the world of common stories, where we create each other, live in each other, love and embrace differences: “mere dhol judaiyaan di sardaari na hovay.”
“Aa chale le ke tujhay (let me take to the land),
hai jahaan silsilay (where stories exist).
Bana de, saja de, panah de hume (give me life, give me love, embrace me).
Featured image credit: Spotify, via newsparho.com
