n a chilly winter evening, you navigate the narrow and meandering bylanes of Nizamuddin in Delhi. You are continuously distracted by the lovely aroma of all kinds of meats being prepared at the several small restaurants that line these gallis. You squeeze through the crowd and reach the archway that will lead you to Hazrat Nizammudin's dargah, leaving your shoes outside as a mark of respect. Shopkeepers will try to sell you flowers and chaddars to leave at the Sufi saint's tomb, but you will politely decline and let the faint sounds of the harmonium and tabla guide you inside. As you turn the corner and reach the entrance to the dargah, you can hear the music all too clearly.

Mohay suhaagan keeni rey mosay naina milaikay

Chhap tilak sab cheeni rey mosay naina milaikay

I have made this journey several times, but each time the experience feels new and strangely calming, despite the claustrophobic setting. The pavillion outside the dargah itself is where each Thursday, the custodians of the dargah — the Nizami Bandhu sing Sufi songs and qawwalis in praise of the saint and the Almighty. Scores of people turn up to listen each week, sitting around the singers, their heads covered, hands folded and eyes closed as they partake of the intoxication in the air. The aroma of incense transports me to another place each time as I find myself a place to sit within the crowd.

The Thursday qawwalis at the dargah are nothing like the Sufi "concerts" one might have attended. I realised this last year when I began to frequent the dargah each week. I was going through a particularly difficult time, dealing with a medical condition that I hadn't yet learnt to control. I came to understand that being at the dargah made me feel much better, while the doctor-recommended daily routine inspired bouts of panic in me. I would look at the faces of people around me and I'd notice tears trickling down their faces, as they sang along with the Nizami Bandhu. Invariably there would be people broken, scarred and defeated by their circumstances mouthing the lyrics to Sufi songs — letting the words become their prayers. Not quite a believer myself, I still found peace and strength in their company.

Ab mori naiyya paar karo tum

Hazrat Nizaamuddin Auliyaa

Dukh daridra sab door karao tum

And,

Kuch nawaso ka sadqa aata ho,

Dar pe aaya hu ban ke sawaali

It is no wonder that these words resound so beautifully with people even today. For what remains at the core of these poems is a sentiment of love. The poet most closely associated with Nizamuddin Auliya is Amir Khusro, his disciple, who wrote several poems and songs and even pushed the boundaries of music by creating the qawwali, tarana and classical khyal styles. Of the Sufi saint's several disciples, Khusro was considered his dearest and most loved pupil. In fact, Amir Khusrau, too, died a few months after this spiritual mentor passed away and is buried next to him at Nizamuddin.Image 2nd

Other poets whose writings you might hear at the dargah include Bulle Shah, Kabir, Bedam Shah Warsi. Great qawwals like Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, the Nizami Brothers, Abida Parveen, Ustad Shujaat Hussain Khan, the Sabri Brothers, Mehdi Hassan and Iqbal Bano, have already made several Sufi songs well-known. Of course, given the recent boom in Sufi music in Hindi cinema, several of these songs have become particularly popular, with people easily recognising the music and lyrics. At the same time, given the Nizami Bandhu's collaboration with A R Rahman and Imtiaz Ali for the song Kun Faya Kun (Rockstar), the brothers often also sing the aforementioned song when the audience demands it.

Mujh pe karam sarkar tera

Araz tujhe, karde mujhe, mujhse hi riha

Ab mujhko bhi ho, deedaar mera

Karde mujhe, mujhse hi riha

The Nizami Bandhu family, which traces its lineage to Nizamuddin Aulia and Amir Khusro, given their 700-year-old ancestry and tradition of singing sufi kalams, stir in their audience something that neither on-stage performances nor Bollywood music can do — they give their listeners hope. The way they create an atmosphere — samaa — of complete surrender to the Almighty, it seems for a brief few minutes their listeners have been liberated from their own miseries, having devoted themselves completely to their beloved. Through their music I found momentary strength and understood the power of prayer, like countless others whose lives are affected by the beautiful tradition inspired by Auliya and Khusro's friendship. On Nizamuddin Auliya's 799th birthday last week, the dargah welcomed the Nizami Brothers who sang alongside the Nizami Bandhu, in front of so many others who might have come to the dargah to find solace and to express gratitude. As the visitors left after the celebration was over, few remained — those who had nowhere to go; those who would find shelter in the Auliya's home till the music was alive.