Azaan as a Form of Chanting: The Islamic Sound World of Kolkata

Introduction: Azaan and the Concepts of Sama’ and Dhikr

Among the din of everyday life, we are always listening to various kinds of sounds—of cars, hammering or sirens in a big city. Yet to listen with close thought and assiduousness requires a special kind of attention. This can either be inclusive or exclusive. In other words, we can choose to attend to all the sounds that are present in our surroundings or we can pay attention, exclusively, to a particular sound only. Even though some of us consider listening to be a passive process, it is an active one that is important in the process of linguistic and cultural socialisation (Kapchan 2009: 76). Chanting, in the Islamic gnosis, is one such form of sacred ritual performance that focuses on the role of music, as well as listening and utterance. There are various ways in which chanting is carried out among the Muslims, but in this article, much emphasis has been given on the ritual performance of the Azaan (adhan). The Muslims prefer calling Azaan as a call for prayer rather than just a prayer. It is characterised as an alarm that alerts and reminds people about the salat (prayer) and the need to congregate for the prayer service in the mosque. Many consider the Azaan to denote the time of the day, relating to its importance in a time when bells or gongs were used in various religions to denote the time of the day. It is believed that when the Muslims used to gather for prayer in Medina, they had a hard time guessing the time for their prayer. They were all in an attempt to find a solution for this. However, Abdullah ibn Zaid and Umar ibn Khatib had a dream where an angel taught them the words of the Azaan and advised them to call people for prayer with these words. When they approached Prophet Muhammad with this, he accepted this as the Azaan and ordered Bilal, one of his disciples, to pronounce the Azaan for prayers. Thus, Azaan is recited five times a day to remind everyone that God is the greatest (‘Allāhu Akbar’), to remind about the presence of God (ash-hadu an-lā ilāhā illā allāh), to acknowledge that Muhammad is the messenger of God (ash-hadu anna Muhammadan-Rasul ullāh), to hasten to prayer (hayya ‘alas-salāh), to hasten to success (hayya ‘alal-falāh) and to remind that prayer is better than sleep which is recited only at pre-dawn (as-salatu khayrun minan-nawm). But it is important to note that in Islamic thinking, hearing or deep listening is given an important and higher position than all other senses. For them, it is possible to visualise by hearing, which gives way to imagination and foresight. As Jean During mentions, ‘[v]isual perceptions are to a great extent physical, while those of hearing are completely spiritual’ (During 2010: 553). Hearing is known to be a ‘supreme experience’ because it is the first experience that allows an individual to be conscious of oneself. This attentive and active listening, by choosing to eliminate all the existing sounds, can be related to the concept of sama’ (spiritual audition) among the Sufis. In the context of chanting, the Sufis learn and practice listening since they believe it is an effective mode of communication between the performer and the listener. It transmits emotion and imagination, which remains privy to the listener. It is argued that much is accomplished by the listener in how one interprets the words uttered by the speaker. In reciting the Azaan, the muezzin might attempt to transmit a particular kind of emotion, but what the listener chooses to feel and perceive remains personal to them only. The closeness to God and the act of ‘spiritual listening’ can be attained by the listener rather than the performer because sama’ is not a spontaneous and passive act of receptivity but a particular kind of action itself (Hirschkind 2006: 34). Even in many parts of the Quran, it is made evident that the failure to connect with the words of God is a result of a person or community’s refusal to hear (sama’). In the Islamic tradition, the responsiveness of the listener and the qualities of a performer are both taken into consideration. Within this ‘interpretive tradition’, thus, as Charles Hirschkind writes, ‘[t]he listener and performer form an interdependent dyad in which the former is often seen to precede and make possible the performance of the latter’ (Hirschkind 2006). He goes on to mention the remarks of a Syrian musician, Sabah Fakhri, that to feel or reflect something, we must possess it within ourselves primarily. We can only feel greater piety and closeness to God if we are talented and sensitive listeners, but the performer must also possess ruh (soul) and ihsas (feeling) (Hirschkind 2006: 36). This throws light on the fact that the listeners are also in turn performers since they carry out a range of performances—in their vocal expressions, facial, gestural and bodily expressions. There are two kinds of prayers for the Muslims: the obligatory salat (prayer) and the dua or chanting the names of God (dhikr or remembrance). The silent prayer consists of repeating the phrase lā ilāhā illā allāh (there is no god but God) a thousand times. It stands on the borderline of vocalisation where the subject performs by moving his mouth as though speaking with prayer beads in his hand. It is mainly in the form of a whisper where from time to time the subject sighs the aforementioned phrase, such that it is audible and again recedes into inaudibility (see Haeri 2013; Kapchan 2009). Thus, the repetitive movement of the mouth, the beads and the repetitive utterance of the phrase creates a rhythm, which accompanies the prayer and is heard only in the inner ear. Thus, even a silent prayer can be a process of internal and external auto-listening (Kapchan 2009: 71). As Greg Downey mentions, ‘rhythm or music, like space, can be experienced not merely as an object outside the self, but as fields of action for a subject’ (quoted by Downey 2002: 498). When one completes the salat, they move on to chanting the names of God, known as dhikr or remembering God. It mainly involves chanting the different names of God aloud and keeping count with the prayer beads in hand. This too is done repeatedly, and the rhythm created initially remains stable and gradually accelerates. As Kapchan notes as follows:

The repetitive and gradually accelerated rhythms of the chants, the vigorous vocalizations, the swaying of the body, the clicking of the prayer beads, all these elements contribute to an experience of transcendence- called al-hal in Arabic, a mystical ‘state’ of union with the divine that takes different forms of expressions. (Kapchan 2009: 72)

Thus, the dhikr gives rise to the culmination of an emotional and spiritual experience. The entire experience of this mode of chanting in Islamic rituals creates a state of trance whereby the subject enters a transcendental state by being disentangled from a state of ‘consciousness’. The rich fabric of sounds that results from the dhikr gives a sense of closeness to God that mainly stems from attentive listening (listening to oneself in this case). Therefore, our sounds return to us, and this enveloping characteristic of audition gives us the rounded sense of being emplaced as sounding subjects (sources) and objects (recipients), and ‘the hearer or the listener (the sentient) is at the centre of the soundscape’ (Sarbadhikary 2015: 187). The sama’ along with the dhikr reveals the presence of God and, in turn, aims to enhance the nobility of the listener. Listening, in turn, unveils various experiences which can be physical or mental.

Listening and Utterance in Repetition

Various forms of chanting in the Islamic ritual is repetitive. As we have also discussed earlier, the dhikr, or repetitive chanting of the names of God, is one such prayer which does not only elevate the divinity of the act but also helps in providing relaxation. An interview that I conducted with Umair Mallik, whom I met outside the Tipu Sultan Mosque in Kolkata, spoke of how the Azaan provides a sense of relaxation, mental peace and sukoon (calmness). If one chooses to listen attentively, the Azaan or the salat provides the listener with an aural and ethical therapy whereby it relaxes the body and helps in achieving sakina, that is, the calmness one feels in knowing that only God can determine the death of a person (Hirschkind 2006: 73). This can also be taken to be one of the functions of Azaan, as it results in relaxing the body and in turn gives the listener a break from the mundane, banal activities and sounds of his everyday life. Not only does the listener feel relaxed but also the performer. The muezzin at a mosque in Kolkata also shared how he feels the closeness to God in reciting the Azaan five times a day. For him, reciting and listening to the Azaan, five times a day, is equal to bathing five times a day. It purifies the body and enables one to live more piously. This can be attributed to the fact that the Azaan or chanting is not merely a verbal performance but one that provides moral and ethical cleansing of the soul. With repetitive listening, the listener is also allowed to rectify what is wrong (ghalat) or forbidden by God (haram). However, it is also believed that ‘deep listening’ is not everyone’s forte. In the Sufi tradition, the novice Sufis train in ‘auditory literacy’, one that helps them master the art of deep listening. Similarly, not all people can experience this relaxation and divinity since it depends on practice and having a ‘pure’ heart. As Hirschkind (2006: 38) says, ‘Sin corrodes the heart, the organ of both audition and moral comportment’. However, ‘Listening to the godly speech of sermons and exhortations, if done repeatedly and with proper intention, can remove this corrosion’. Thus, cleansing the heart or tahir lies in repetitive listening accompanied by intention and concentration. During the day, most of us sin, either intentional or unintentional. The Azaan is not only a reminder for prayer but also worded verbal form of chanting that allows all Muslims to purify themselves of their gunaah (crimes or sin). The salat and dhikr, on the other hand, can also be seen as a practice that frees the body of its dirt, through repeated utterance and deep, spiritual audition. Even in Sufi practice, repetitive utterance and listening are seen as a means for purification of the body which helps in unveiling one’s secrets and sins to the divine, to polish the heart to achieve right conduct and ethical behaviour. Thus, it can be noted that chanting the salat or reciting and listening to the Azaan, in a religious, disciplined way, can help in the removal of evil from oneself. In this context, the Azaan allows the submission of a person to God whereby he is allowed to confess and tell the truth. This can also be related to Foucault’s understanding of the self whereby he says that ‘truth-telling’ is a need that most human beings aim to achieve, to experience liberation and free the body of its repressed feelings, thoughts and burdens. It is not obligatory for such a need to stem only from religious practices but also from sexuality whereby the need to confess and submit oneself to God or someone powerful provides a therapeutic situation. To speak the truth is often valued by society and, thus, to do so, it is important to ‘know’ oneself and also take care of oneself. Relating it to the Islamic tradition of submitting oneself to God, confessing one’s sins and speaking the truth can only be done if we choose to remain pure and free of all evil thoughts. This might sound highly unattainable and narcissistic, but according to Foucault, confession can only be submitted if we care to ‘know’ ourselves. It is through this that we can follow the rules of moral and social conduct and the overall ‘art of life’ (Besley 2007: 59). Thus, this virtue of knowing oneself and taking care of oneself is not exclusive only to the listener but also to the performer: the one who listens to the Azaan and the one who recites it. If the performer is also unable to know or take care of himself, he cannot evoke an emotion among the listeners. The muezzin at the mosque is also in need of divine connection to God, and if he cannot free his heart of other evil and immoral thoughts, he cannot submit himself to God.

The Performer and the Listener

The act of utterance and listening (sama’) can thus be seen as an important virtue in the Islamic tradition. This also leads us to the fact that listening or repetitive utterance is not a mere duty but a result of meticulous practice and willpower. Repetition of the names of God or remembrance (dhikr), for instance, is not performed solely to please Allah. Relaxation, concentration and purification can only be attained through practice, spiritual listening and understanding. The performance of the salat, for example, can be seen as a practice because it involves the ‘honing of skills, sentiments, and goals such as intimacy’ (Haeri 2013: 27). To understand this, it is important to embark upon the relation between the performer and the listener. As a personal experience, during the day, most of us hear the Azaan, but very few of us choose to listen to it carefully with complete attention and assiduity. In the Islamic tradition, since ‘auditory literacy’ is an important skill, people listen to the Azaan with complete concentration and experience a kind of emotion. Even though it is stated that the function of the Azaan is to act as a reminder, it is surprising to notice that most people internalise it and choose to accept it as a kind of an alarm to go to the mosque and pray. It can be argued that Muslims might refuse to respond to this virtue of the Azaan, but it is due to their conditioned listening and auditory training that their bodies react to the Azaan, and especially to the verbalised phrase, as-salatu khayrun minan-nawm (prayer is better than sleep). But much of this also depends on the muezzin who performs the Azaan. There is, thus, a relation between the performer and the audience. To enhance certain phrases and to evoke certain emotions, the muezzin recites the Azaan with selective stress on a few words and, as a result, modulates his voice accordingly. What the audience feels is also dependent on the persuasiveness and performance of the speaker. ‘A good voice and a correct pronunciation (sidq al-lahja) accompanied by sincerity (al-ikhlas) produce the words that come from the heart of the speaker’ (as quoted by Hirschkind 2006: 49). Thus, chanting in the Islamic tradition and even in other religions depends on the performance of the speaker and an attentive listener. Even Sukanya Sarbadhikary (2015: 185) accounts a similar experience in her account of chanting and musical practices among the Indian Vaishnavas. She notes how the people respond to the chants that ‘evoke powerful affective sentiments in the listeners and its capacity to bring to life a real sense of place, thereby bringing together the dimensions of place, affect and music’ (Sarbadhikary 2015: 185). The performance of silent prayers whereby one chants the names of God or chapters from the Quran also entails a certain internal reaction that allows one to repeatedly seek spiritual connection and relaxation. The performance of the Azaan or salat is not only linguistic or symbolic but is also achieved through a ‘trained and responsive body’ that depends on their skill, which comes from practice and listening. The performer, or the one who chants, perceives this rhythm of chanting through the nerves, muscles, sinew and their bodies. Thus, Sarbadhikary (2015: 185) also mentions that in chanting, the entire body acts as an auditory instrument whereby it becomes receptive to the sounds produced internally (during dua or dhikr) and the ones produced externally (in the case of Azaan or reading out chapters from the Quran). However, from the phenomenological perspective of sonic performances, the process of perception, emotion and feeling remains exclusive to the listener. What he or she perceives from the ‘apprenticeship process’ of listening (Downey 2002: 489) might not be common or similar for everyone. In the case of the salat (prayer), it might evoke different and variegated responses among the listeners, and this in turn creates a delink between the language and the subject. Due to verbalised, lyrical form of the Azaan, the language provides a way of thinking and effect, which is not commonly experienced by all. The emotions that are communicated are absorbed and understood differently by the listeners. What the rhythmic recitation of the Azaan or the salat aims to transfer depends on the listener. It can be argued that chanting depends on the rhythmic effect, the sacred effect, the bodily reactions and emotions, which hold a much stronger ground than the worded nature of the prayers. Again, the role of the performer is highlighted here since a lot depends on his articulation and ethical performance of the ritual. Most of us may or may not truly understand the phrases or words mentioned in the Azaan. But our bodies respond to it, we listen to it even in the presence of other sounds that envelope us. But the power of it is such that it eclipses and eliminates all other sounds present around which qualifies it as an alarm or reminder that God is present and that it is time to pray. The nature of chanting is such that it stirs emotion and thought, which is not solely dependent on intricate and ‘intellectual understanding’. The rhythmic, sonic production of chants only provides personal experience even in a group. Sarbadhikary quotes Swami and says, ‘[s]ound is scientific. Thinking of sound only means imagination’, and notes that the effect of chanting remains embedded in the sound and not ‘the referenced meaning of the text’ (Sarbadhikary 2015: 190). Thus, a particular musical style does not only include the words and the syntax but also different ways of perceiving and experiencing it. The entire process of iteration is dependent on the listening and utterance, thus. Even though there are different ways of connecting with God, concentrating and achieving bodily calmness, it is important to embark upon this process of iteration or repeated act of chanting. However, Haeri (2013: 28) argues that since the meaning and imagination accompanied with chanting keeps changing, it is preferable to call it a practice or ‘apprenticeship of learning’ rather than merely an act of repetition. For example, in chanting the salat, different people might submit themselves to God in different ways and connect with the Divine in various ways. Here, the concept of iteration put forward by Derrida can also be explored. He speaks about the myth of Echo and Narcissus. Echo was punished and could only speak the last word uttered by another person. In an encounter with Narcissus in a forest, she ends up falling in love with him, where her conditioned speaking is put to use and she responds to Narcissus when he is lost in the forest. Here, Derrida notes that Echo speaks what one wants to hear and understand. He highlights the interaction between Narcissus and Echo wherein one speaks only when one hears and one understands what the other is trying to say only when one speaks. Thus, what Echo says is conditioned in the sense that she can only speak what the other person says and, in turn, also end up communicating. It might not be the response that comes along with an uttered phrase but it is a form of communication where the repetition and the meaning of the conveyed term change. Thus, for Derrida, it is important to have the ears for hearing, and he goes on to say:

It is only when much later the other will have perceived with a keen-enough ear what I will have addressed or destined to him or her … and to hear or understand one must also produce (see DeArmitt 2009: 89–100).

This, in turn, takes us back to the notion that how it is important to have a keen interest to ‘listen’ rather than just to hear. Hence, it is to enhance this aspect of careful listening and understanding that one can relate to this theory of iteration as put forward by Derrida, only to intricately note how careful listening and careful utterance form a unique relation also in the context of repetition and salat.

Interconnectedness of Music and Spirituality

The sacred effect of the Azaan is such that it provides the listener a certain sense of spiritual interconnectedness and a therapeutic experience. In an interview with one of my Muslim friends, I came to know that the Azaan is recited in the ears of the newborn to help him connect with God and remain as a ‘submitter’ (‘true Muslim’) to God throughout his lifetime. This internalisation of the Azaan conditions the child to respond to it mentally, spiritually and physically, and his practice of ‘auditory listening’ begins the moment he is born. Thus, the Azaan acts as a source of knowledge since it gives rise to spirituality which in turn is a ‘way of knowing’. As mentioned earlier, the attempt to know oneself and the imagination or thinking generated through chanting forms an important human experience not only in Islam but in other religions also. From all the points discussed above, we can arrive at the fact that the mind, body, soul and sound are not separate from each other, but they are a ‘whole’. What has intrigued me forms the basis of the argument that despite the existing forms of so many sounds, the Azaan does not fail to reach us in our everyday lives. Those who are Muslims also point out that chanting or listening to the prayer provides them with mental peace and bodily relaxation. This brings us to the important juncture that music, chanting and spirituality are all interlinked in some form or the other. Chanting is not only an everyday activity in most households but an important spiritual agent that provides each human being with concentration, creativity, discipline, purity and relaxation. The congruence of the physical with the spiritual takes practice, conditioning and repetition, but once achieved, it forms a personal code of ethics, which is far more valuable than reasoning and mechanical behaviour. In an interview with the muezzin outside the mosque, he told me about the ‘automatic’ nature of music generated in the Azaan. Many argue that Azaan has a particular tune in which it is sung, but it is a recitation that is performed and depends solely on the persuasiveness, articulation and modulation of the performer, keeping in mind the loud baritone voice of Bilal, who first recited the Azaan. Chanting the salat or dua or the dhikr also entails a rhythmic production of sound and even though the experience might be internal and personal, it does not fail to connect the mind, body and the soul. This is what Yob (2010: 147) also mentions in her justification of ‘wholism’, where she does not treat the mind, body and soul as different entities but one that is in sync. The movement of the body, the continuous swaying while chanting the dua or the dhikr, the mental states that one keeps reaching at, all function together as a whole in the realm of chanting in the Islamic tradition. Azaan can also thus qualifies as a form of music because it communicates and evokes emotion, imagination and interaction between the performer and the listener. It is thereby also fair to note that ‘religion is more than theology and ritual enactments’, and the productivity of sound or Azaan in this context can be related to ‘music and religion being manifestations of human spirituality’ (Yob 2010: 148).

Loudspeakers as a Technological Medium in Delivering the Azaan

The urban city space exposes us to a plethora of sounds, which we often term as noise, but the sound of the Azaan, which reaches us punctually, has never been questionable. Be it dawn, noon or dusk, we hear the Azaan, even amid the din through loudspeakers that transmit the call for prayer. Even to talk about my university space, there have been numerous times when the call for prayer has reached my ears, from different mosques that surround my university, by varying minutes. Attentiveness, concentration and responsiveness together form an integral part of chanting in Islam. The loudspeaker is one such technological medium that seeks to compel attention by disbursing religious messages, chants or the call for prayer in the urban life of the Muslims and other communities too. It was in the late 1920s that loudspeakers were first used inside a mosque, but it was later in the 1950s, when it was used to broadcast the call to prayers and convey instructions from the Imam (prayer leader) to the audience. However, there arose various negations and debates around the use of loudspeakers in ritual practice, which tried to pin down the material effects of the machine. The primary concern that was raised about the use of loudspeakers was the ‘originality’ of the voice and raised the worry that whether one was taking the lead of a machine over a human, which was considered unacceptable. As Naveeda Khan quotes Mufti Muhammad who recounts, ‘In the early stages we had declared the loudspeaker unlawful because at that time we were not sure whether the voice coming over it was the original voice or its duplicate’ (Khan 2011: 574). She also goes on to mention that the sound transmitted by loudspeakers resulted in the ‘collision’ and ‘concatenation’ of sound signals. ‘If so, then the consciousness, purposiveness, and directionality of the Imam’s instructions stood to be significantly compromised’ (Khan 2011: 575). According to Mohammad Ashfaq, the growing dependability of the devotees on the call for prayer over the loudspeaker had itself led to destruction in their attention and alertness. This also resonates with the second concern that was raised on the use of loudspeakers that it reduced the state of humility or khushu o khuzu, vital for prayer. Some people were concerned with the quality of sound produced through the loudspeakers, which also led to the humility of worshippers being jeopardised due to the intermingling of sound effects in the religious space. Thus, since the Muslims have been concerned with maintaining proper concentration, the introduction of the loudspeaker seemed to increase this challenge (Khan 2011: 576).

Loudspeakers have material effects on sound. When I happened to ask Mohammad Ashfaq about the use of loudspeakers in mosques today, he mentioned that since everyone can hear the Azaan over loudspeakers, it was a good technique that is being used for years now, but to him, not many people listen to it carefully since it is heard among the daily din of the city space. Transduction, or the conversion of electrical signals into acoustical signals, is considered as the amplification of sound. This concept gains significance here because it is through this process that loudspeakers are able to amplify the sound, as also put forward by Murray Schafer in his work, The Tuning of the World (1977) (Khan 2011: 577). When Mohammad Ashfaq spoke of the other sounds present along with the sound of the Azaan, hints at how the loudspeaker also introduces inference or unwanted sounds and the overall sound produced by the loudspeakers may also be termed as ‘noise’ depending on the recipient. Schafer introduces the concept of ‘schizophonia’ whereby he mentions, ‘[o]riginal sounds are tied to the mechanisms which produce them. Electroacoustic sounds are copies and they may be reproduced at other times or places’ (as quoted by Khan 2011: 577). Thus, in the modern soundscape, where there is a high concentration of intermingling sounds at all times, the recipient faces a ‘cognitive dissonance’, which distorts depth perception. Thus, it is important to note that listening to the Azaan also depends on the quality of the loudspeakers. There are often times when we hear the Azaan being called out from different mosques at the same time, in their own distinct ways, but it is the quality and mechanical efficiency of the loudspeakers which help us to concentrate on one particular azaan, which might be coming from the farthest mosque in the neighbourhood. Transduction or amplification of sounds thus created great anxiety because it was not only the Azaan or prayers that one could hear, there were also times when other noises and sounds crept through the loudspeakers which raised doubt about human presence and the compromise on the humanness of the voice over the loudspeaker. Zubair Saleh, mentioned as follows:

Aaj main Musalmaan hoon, isiliye mujhko maalum hai ki azaan main kya bola jata hai…. Lekin aap bataiye, aajkal jo azaan diya jata hai, koi bhi shabd acchi tarah se…. koi samajh nahi payega kyunki loudspeaker ki quality kitni buri ho chuki hai. Muezzin toh dil aur mann se azaan dete hai, lekin bohot kam log unn shabdo ko samajh pate hain aajkal … agar koi samajh hi nahi sakta, toh Allah khush kaise hoga…

(Today by virtue of me, being a Muslim, I know the wordings of the Azaan … but you tell me, the Azaan that you hear today, nobody can properly understand the wordings of the Azaan because the quality of the loudspeakers has deteriorated so much. The Muezzin calls out the Azaan from his heart and soul, but very few people can clearly understand what is being said … how would Allah be happy ….)

This also speaks of the concern that the Azaan which is the call for prayer and a method to be in the presence of Allah is preceded over by external interference which is mechanical, and glitches in the functioning of the loudspeakers would automatically lead to a disruption in the Azaan. The formation of an ‘acoustic community’ (Schafer 1994) which involves concentration and attentiveness of the listeners, mainly resulting from the acoustic space created by the call for prayer, was gradually fading away due to the intervention of various kinds of noise present in the modern soundscape. In the urban space, characterised by the presence of industries, technologising urban labour processes and presence of various kinds of media, attention and concentration in the everyday life has become a challenging process. Distraction has gradually been adopted as a technique where the human and the technological co-exist. As Walter Benjamin states, ‘In a world where work is carried out by machines, human labour is no longer about the physical body but about the mind that supervises it’, and this becomes a significant aspect because it with rapid technologisation and machine operated human operations that people have lost the ability to think, concentrate and focus with the mind, because of this dependency on machines. The acoustic community today also struggles to listen with the mind, and this resonates with the lines put down by Benjamin where the mind only works to find dependency in machines, while the physical body yearns for the active cooperation of the mind (Larkin 2014: 997). Thus, the growing dependability on machines and technology has allowed forms of technological medium to control our minds. On the other hand, while focusing on the aspect of ‘ethical listening’, Hirschkind writes that ‘attention is a key to the practice of ethical listening’, where ‘…Close attention entails a stillness, in order to listen, so as not to be distracted …’ (see Hirschkind 2006: 70). Hence, although a challenge today, but it is only through careful attention and by eliminating distraction, can one strive to listen with the mind and body duality in action. Zubair Saleh had also shared something similar when he said,

lekin … dekhiye … dua karne se, namaz parne se jo sukoon milti hai … woh yunsit se hi ata hai … aise yahan wahan toh kitna shor hai, lekin unn sab ko full stop karke, mann se dua karna hi Allah ko khushi dega ….

(But … see … while praying or during namaz, the satisfaction that you get … it is through intent listening (yunsit) … to not respond to the noise around you, and continue praying is the real challenge, which makes Allah happy …).

Thus, attention is an effect of religious discipline, which seems to be a challenge in the age of technological or medial production of the Azaan. ‘Listening in this situation becomes a cultural technique, a practice shaped by media…’ (Larkin 2014: 1004). The sound discharged by loudspeakers cannot be controlled by the listeners. ‘One is subject to it rather than control’. For the Muslims, sound is a part of da’wa, a call to Islamic reform, and loudspeakers have been a significant material means by which that call has been relayed. But is there any vivid difference between the muezzin calling out the Azaan and the muezzin calling out the Azaan over the loudspeaker? In a conversation with the muezzin from a mosque near Ballygunje Circular Road, Kolkata, he mentioned as follows:

Yeh sab mic loudspeaker wagera hai jo hum sabko Allah ke kareeb pahuchata hai … sab ko sunai deta hai azaan, chahey who Musalman ho, Hindu ho, Sikh ho, jo koi bhi … aaj loudspeaker aagar nahi rehta toh sabko sunai nahi deta na. Yahan pe harwaqt itna shor hai, gari ka, truck ka, senao ke van ka, idhar udhar se bike chalta hai … kitna shor machata hai … lekin phir bhi, azaan sabko sunai deta hai … loudspeaker hai, isiliye na. Woh sirf hai, jo awaaz hai woh sabke kaano tak pahucha de raha hai, aur ye jo ho raha hai, isse Allah ke kareeb ja rahe hai hum, aur kuch nahi

(Loudspeakers and microphones are present and they bring us close to Allah…everyone can hear the Azaan, whether he is a Muslim, or Hindu, or sikh, whoever it is … if the loudspeaker wasn’t present, everyone wouldn’t have been able to hear. There is such a lot of din over here, of cars, military vans, there are bikes appearing from here and there … they create so much of noise … but still, the Azaan can be heard distinctly, only because the loudspeaker is there. The loudspeaker is just present to transmit the Azaan to everybody, which ultimately leads us closer to Allah and his presence.)

Thus, the loudspeaker acts an amplifying agent, and ‘preaching over the loudspeaker helps people know … the injunction of Islamic teachings and their religious responsibilities’ (Larkin 2014: 1006). What loudspeakers point to is a way in which human experiences takes place in relation to the medial base (which is the loudspeaker here), which interacts with the disciplines of Islamic theology. The concept of a ‘vanishing medium or mediator’ has also been spoken of by Patrick Eisenlohr (2018), where he mentions that the mediums for sound reproduction convey messages, prayers or instructions which provide ‘live and direct’ contact with the listeners and focus on immediacy and immediate access to whatever it conveys. ‘Whether a sound is produced by a body or technologically produced, the sonic event remains the same,’ and in the words of media theorist Wolfgang Ernst, they are ‘equally original’. Thus, even what the muezzin tried to convey is that the sounds and their technological reproduction involves the same kind of presence, ‘which has the potential to powerfully distract from the technological artifice of sound reproduction’. Thus, while talking about a ‘vanishing medium’, Eisenlohr questions whether there is an actual distance between the sound and the technologically reproduced sound, which gives rise to immediacy and transparency while chanting. Sound reproduction has, thus, been integrated into various religious practices. There is a constant confluence of technology and theology in the Islamic traditions today. Considered as an evil, harmful technological medium, the loudspeaker is viewed as a medium that not only reaches the devotees but also acts as an amplifier, as though, ‘bringing us closer to Allah’. Religious practitioners have devised a variety of practices to enhance their connection with the divine, including verbal chants, material objects, images and sounds, concerning various technical media such as print, photography, sound production and so on. The desire to enhance their connection with the divine has always been religiously practiced, and the loudspeaker is one such technical medium that helps with ‘technical solutions for accessing the divine’. Attention, concentration and listening form the foundations of ethical life for the Muslims. In terms of a vanishing medium, as long as the loudspeaker functions as expected, the listeners are hardly bothered about the medium, but the voice. What is conveyed over the speakers directly reaches the listeners, and the presence of an actual medium between the conveyer and the recipient vanishes, drawing the entire focus and attention towards the prayers. Any distortions in the technical medium, however, disrupt the flow of the prayer, which then distracts the listeners and breaks the attention. Thus, the intermingling of sound and voice in the field of religion involves transduction, that is, the conversion of electric signals into sound and a kind of sonic immersion, which involves the confluence of sound and bodies. The louspeaker thus generates a ‘sacred acoustic space that facilitates the cohesion of the Islamic Community’. This phenomenon is also in sync with what Charles Hirschkind (2006) calls a ‘pious landscape’ (Lee 1999:94), where the sound generated by the loudspeaker not only allows the listeners and the audience to learn to live with it but also develops ‘cultural techniques’ whereby they either concentrate on the sound or choose not to. In urban life, practice to be attentive towards the sound produced by the speakers shapes religious practice. The cultural techniques are not just the result of an interaction between the human body and the sound emitted by the machine but also takes place in an environment compromising of a variety of religious disciplines. As Brian Larkin mentions,

… complex practices of attention and inattention, which are developed in response to the everyday forms of worship, disturbance, and violence, in which loudspeakers are caught up. The loudspeaker, in its admixture of religious practices, dispersal of information, and listening, there is an assemblage where medial form, religious discipline, and the human body combine to constitute the urban life. (Larkin 2014: 990)

Azaan in the Urban Landscape of Kolkata (Bengal)

Urban life is regulated by various kinds of technological media; human beings do not only use the media as technologies to achieve special and particular effects but it is a constant process of growing and taking shape in a world organised by media. Friedrich Kittler (1986), a German media theorist, mentions that media are not simply ‘neutral technologies’ but they are means to order human life and ‘culturalise the natives of that society’ (see Larkin 2014: 991). The loudspeakers affixed to the mosques in Kolkata are used to disburse religious messages or to call out the Azaan. But, in turn, it also creates an environment for others living in that space who have to comport themselves with sound and practice, which may interfere with their form of living and everyday life. Jonathan Sterne (2003) has referred to the dispersal of religious messages or chants over the loudspeaker as audile techniques to train in listening, or call people to prayer, which takes place with the religious norms and medial quality of the loudspeaker, which forms a broader social, religious and sonic atmosphere in the urban life. For Zarina Firdausi, a resident of Palm Avenue, not listening to the Azaan daily makes her feel ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘impious’. ‘While on tours’, she recalls, ‘there were times when I could hardly hear the Azaan, be at dawn or dusk, not a single word of the Azaan could I hear’. Having a mosque in the neighbourhood not only helps her to be in the presence of Allah but she feels ‘much more calm and pious’. On the other hand, Sunanda Ray, who lives in the same locality, mentions that she hears the Azaan ‘at times’. ‘It is like any other sound I hear … sometimes when I am alone at home in the noon … probably cooking, I hear it. But I know the Azaan is given five times a day … its just that I don’t pay much heed to it, it’s a prayer’. The lives of both Zarina and Sunanda are located in a similar zone, yet their experiences and perceptions vary whereby Zarina executes her cultural and religious practices of attentive listening and Sunanda, on the other hand, merely acknowledges the sound of the Azaan that she hears, but of course does not necessarily pay attention to it. However, in both the cases, an acoustic, religious space is created, owing to the close vicinity in which the lives of these two women carry on. The significance of aural media and religious soundscape lies in creating spaces of ethical formation. Soundscapes are mainly shared living spaces inhabited by multiple overlapping sound sources, but in this case, sound is integral to creating an ethically charged environment due to its quality of being shared. In quoting Schulz (2008), Tom Boylston mentions, ‘due to the transportability of media, which move practices and experiences related to the aural perception of spiritual presence into new arenas of daily life, beyond the immediate spheres of ritual action to which these aural forms of spiritual experiences used to be restricted’ (Boylston 2018: 142). Zarina Firdausi also mentioned to me how the call for prayer, or the dua, helped her to ‘take a break’ from her daily work routine, which allowed her to feel at peace and be more attentive towards her chores. Thus, through the vocalisation of her chants and the creation of a religious space as a result of the Azaan, she also managed to momentarily escape from the busy urban life and ‘bypass the dominance of the mundane, rational world and its orderings of reality to achieve connection with a broader reality’ (Boylston 2018: 148). Thus, in the urban, capitalist society, governed by the constant need to live up to a particular standard of living, individuals often feel alienated and self-estranged, and according to Boylston, this is when chanting or humming facilitates the accessing of healing energy, which is experienced by Zarina. ‘Sound, healing and place thus exist in a unified whole’ (Boylston 2018: 150). Through the ethnographic examples it can be believed that in the vast space of the city, the Azaan succeeds to reach the perceptions of everyone, and not just one single community but its essence finds meaning in different ways for different recipients of the sound. Hence, in the cityscape, the loudspeakers act as a significant medium that leads to the creation of sonic space amid the blaring sounds of the city, and thereby poses to be a unique messenger of prayers in the daily lives of the Muslims. It not only acts as a mechanical tool for the sonic production of the prayers and chants but in turn also contributes to the recognition and presence of the Muslim community. It is also important to mention that the aspects of listening, devotion, space and time not only find itself to be attached to the Muslim community but also in turn with those who do not belong to this community. Feelings of devotion, sense of time and significance of prayers through the loudspeakers do not only create a sonic and spiritual space for the Muslims but also for those who are not Muslims in the everyday life. If one is to take into consideration these interrelated dynamics, involved not only in the lives of the Muslims but the dwellers of the Metropolis, it is important to note that the responses of the dwellers to the utterance of the Azaan might not be one of active participation but one which reproduces feelings of co-existence, harmony and recognition. This realm of spirituality is such that it might not involve the voluntary participation of the city dwellers but it does not fail to grab their attention and sense of being immersed in the sonic space through the powerful and careful utterance of the chant. The role of loudspeakers here is, thus, simultaneously also intertwined with utterance and listening and also with the everyday lives of the city dwellers. It is through the powerful and intricate utterance of the Azaan that also contributes to the sonic space in the city, where not only one particular community finds itself immersed in the waves of utterance but so does the city dweller, who even without being an active participant chance upon this sound amid the din of the city space. A sound that is relevant to a particular community yet finds a place in the hearts of all the other dwellers of the metropolis. Through its sonic production, thus, the loudspeaker forms a relationship with the city space, wherein it contributes to the creation of a unified space, in terms of spirituality and commonness. Thus, even today, it is through the Azaan and its technologically mediated sound that the Muslims also strive to coexist among the diverse communities in Kolkata.

Conclusion

The performance and the auditory perception of the Azaan has a spiritual effect on the mind, soul and body of its ‘deep listeners’. However, mediated through technological mediums, such as the loudspeaker, the Azaan is not only oriented towards the Muslim community. The loudspeaker, which strives to amplify the Azaan, goes beyond the boundaries of religious practices and disciplines prevalent in the Muslim community and creates a sonic space in the urban lives of all individuals in Kolkata. Irrespective of all the noise present in the urban city space, the sound of the Azaan over the loudspeakers still reaches out to its people. Attention in the Islamic gnosis forms a crucial part of chanting, along with responsiveness and concentration. However, in the mechanised lives of the people in Kolkata, paying attention to the Azaan and simultaneously concentrating on what it conveys is a big challenge, given how urban lives are today governed by distraction resulting from media and distraction through media. While completing this article, however, I realised how chanting in the Islamic tradition poses to be a means in which the listener not only gains a spiritual state of trance but is also a means to create sonic space for attention, responsiveness and a momentary break from the mundane reality. However, in the urban spaces of Kolkata, governed by media and technology, the loudspeaker not only amplifies the sound of the Azaan but the device has also been situated in the realm of communal and religious politics in Kolkata, and India in a broader sense. Azaan as a form of chanting in the Islamic sound world of Kolkata not only leads to the creation of a sonic and religious space but also is means of declaring the presence and coexistence of the Muslim community in Kolkata. The Azaan remains true to its characteristics of being a musical aesthetic but also, however, raises the question that whether with the growing dependence of people on technology and media the ‘acoustic space’ has been gradually fading away in the metropolitan city of Kolkata.