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Dance of love
As they move in slow circular movements, the whirling dervishes of Turkey exude a deeper message of love and spirituality, Ranjita Biswas discovers in Istanbul
The Sirkeci area of Istanbul was choc- a-bloc with home-bound office-goers, shoppers and people sampling their sesame-topped Simits or just hanging around sipping Turkish tea served in elegant small glasses. The blue water of the Bosphorus and the white ferries full of tourists and homebound crowd formed a perfect background for a lazy summer evening. But altogether, it seemed a world far away from the sombre mood that Sufi music creates. Yet, that was what we were heading for traipsing through the busy area - a performance at the Hodjapasha Art & Culture Center. This was once a hamam, the traditional Turkish spa, and has now been renovated into this institution for an expose of Turkish cultural ethos. After asking around, the Turks are genuinely helpful though language is a problem, we approached a narrow lane which led to the Center. Inside, it was cool and restful, the walls decorated with tiles in Islamic art design.
Like many tourists, a ‘must’ in the agenda for us was attending a performance by the whirling dervishes, mendicants in search of spiritual fulfillment.
But as an Indian, I had some other associations that stoked my interest. The Sufi mysticism-inspired folk songs of Punjab; the soul-stirring devotional songs of Sant Kabir, the Sufi saint who combined songs of devotion to Lord Krishna with Islamic Sufism; other legendary Sufi mystics of India, Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti, Nizamuddin Auliya and Amir Khusrao. Traditions glimpsed in the present too- stories about Oscar-winner A R Rahman’s devotion to Sufism which has been reflected in many of his compositions, more recently in Khawaja Meray Khawaja in Jodhaa Akbar; attending a performance by rock band Junoon from Pakistan whose members meld Sufi music with modern musical trend beautifully.
Soon, in one corner of the rotunda, the ensemble of musicians (Mutrip) set the mood with drumbeats, flute, and singing in a sonorous tone. One by one the dancers entered, black cloaks over their dress, their heads capped by elongated tall hats. They touched the floor reverently which we also witness in India as classical dancers start their performance. After a round in a circulatory movement, they slowly took off their black cloaks (hirka) to reveal dresses in white, the lower portion like voluminous skirts (tennure). They crossed their hands over their chests, they faced each other and then bowed and moved in twos and then in circles. Then to the beat of the drum they whirled in slow motion, right to left, one hand pointing upward and the other down.
To the uninitiated, the gestures could look repetitive, and perhaps even boring as some in the audience later complained they expected ‘more action.’
But that’s the whole catch. Sufi whirling dance is not meant to be a ‘show-piece,’ it’s an offering of love to an unseen but powerful presence and a yearning to be blessed by the power. The dervish dance (from the Persian word darvīsh) is not a performing art per se though it has been presented, inevitably, as a ‘tourist attraction’ in many places as an ‘item’ in Turkish cultural programmes. Here at the Hodjapasha Center, presented by the Istanbul Galata Mevlevi Lodge, the mood was sombre, as it should be, the movements slow and deliberate and utterly self-absorbed as if the dancers were in a trance.
This is how Turkey’s most well-known Sufi mystic, Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi prayed, it is said, whirling ecstatically, reciting poems of universal love while seeking something beyond the earthly existence. After Mevlana (meaning 'Our Guide') this famous dervish tradition is called the Mevlevi order.
Though originally from Afghanistan, Rumi came to live in Turkey with his family in the 13th century as they escaped from Mongol invasion. His father was a brilliant Islamic scholar. They settled down in Rum near present-day Konya. Rumi was initiated into Sufism by a former pupil of his father, and eventually became a popular Sufi teacher himself.
Rumi’s meeting with a dervish, Shams al-Din, was a profound experience. Jealous of his influence on their master, a group of Rumi's own students murdered him in 1247. Inconsolable, Rumi withdrew from the world to mourn and meditate. This was the period which saw Rumi composing his vast collection of beautiful poetry, listening to devotional music and trance dancing which is known as the whirling dance today.
Every gesture of the whirling dance has its own meaning, as all dance movements or mudras do have universally. The dervishes are also called semazens after sema (the whirling ceremony), which is in seven parts, and signifies the mystical journey of an individual ascending through prayer and love to the ultimate goal of union with the divine. The whirling represents birth of humanity A s the dervish spins he turns towards the truth, abandons ego and aims at perfection (kemal). The long white gowns represent ego's burial shroud and the cone-shaped hats (sikke), ego's tombstone. The right hand lifts upward to receive blessings and energy from heaven, the left hand turned downward to bestow these blessing on the earth. The dervish symbolically bestows these blessings to others.
Today, Sufism and its influence on music has reached many corners of the Islamic world, and beyond. Sufi music has a universal sound because it speaks of everyday things - pain, poverty, emotions, joys, sorrows and lives of common people and their yearning to feel the blessing of the “supreme power”. Unesco had declared 2007 as the “Year of Rumi” in recognition of the mystic poet’s unconventional lines of faith and inspiring people to follow the path of love transcending cultural and religious lines.
In India, the Sufi movement was introduced during the reign of ‘slave king’ Qutub-ud-din Aibak (of Turkish origin), between the 11th and 12th century AD when the minstrels first settled down in Punjab and later in Delhi. Thus Punjab has a strong Sufi tradition. Even today in Punjab’s countryside there are many mazars and dargahs of Sufi saints where local people, irrespective of their religion, go to pay obeisance.
Indeed, as Rumi wrote:
“Close the language-door/ and open the love-window/The moon won’t use the door/only the window”,
the language of love and peace does not know any barriers. It is only that the message is often lost if the performance of the dervishes is treated as just one of the ‘events’ in a busy calendar.
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