Guest Column:Can Qawwali Survive Commercial Packaging?

There is a moment in every qawwali mehfil when time seems to dissolve. The clapping gathers momentum. The harmonium begins to breathe like a living thing. The tabla answers. And then the voice, not performing, but surrendering. In that instant, the music is no longer entertainment. It is invocation.

Qawwali was never designed for commercial packaging. It was born in the courtyards of dargahs, carried through centuries by oral tradition, devotion and community. It belonged to everyone and to no one. The purpose was spiritual elevation, not applause. The audience wasn’t a market, it was a congregation.

And yet, here we are in 2026, asking: can this deeply spiritual tradition survive the mechanics of the music business?

From Dargah to Digital

Today, qawwali exists in multiple avatars. It echoes in the marble courtyards of shrines. It commands ticketed auditoriums in metropolitan cities. It travels through streaming platforms and finds new listeners through short-form videos.

Commercial packaging has undeniably expanded its reach. High-quality recordings, global tours, festival programming and brand partnerships have brought qawwali to audiences who might never have sat cross-legged on a dargah floor. For many artists, these platforms have provided financial stability that traditional patronage no longer guarantees.

But expansion comes with negotiation.

When qawwali moves to the proscenium stage, durations shrink. Improvisations tighten. Spiritual poetry is sometimes trimmed to accommodate attention spans shaped by algorithms. The raw, participatory call-and-response is refined into a “set list.”

Is that dilution, or evolution?

The Economics of Devotion

Let us be honest: devotion does not pay electricity bills. Musicians deserve sustainable livelihoods. Historically, qawwals were supported by royal courts, community patrons and shrine donations. That ecosystem has changed.

Ticketed Sufi festivals, curated cultural properties and brand-backed events have created new revenue streams. Digital streaming has opened up global audiences. Weddings and private mehfils often subsidise more traditional performances.

Commercial structures, in many ways, have kept the art alive.

Yet the business model raises critical questions. Who owns a traditional kalaam passed down generations? When a centuries-old composition is rearranged, who holds copyright? Does monetisation flow fairly to the hereditary families who preserved the form?

Without careful frameworks, commercialisation risks privileging polished reinterpretations over custodians of the original tradition.

Packaging vs Presence

Qawwali thrives on presence, on the slow build, the repetition of a single line until it becomes revelation. Commercial packaging often demands speed and spectacle. Lighting rigs replace oil lamps. Branded backdrops frame sacred poetry.

But authenticity is not defined by location. I have witnessed profound spiritual moments on large festival stages, just as I have seen mechanical renditions within shrines. Intention matters more than architecture.

The challenge is not commerce itself. The challenge is whether commerce dictates content.

If the format begins to prioritise virality over vulnerability, spectacle over surrender, then something essential is lost.

The Youth Question

Encouragingly, younger audiences are showing renewed curiosity about Sufi poetry and qawwali. Digital access has democratised discovery. Many encounter Amir Khusrau not in textbooks, but in playlists.

The question is: will we give them the full experience?

Will we allow them to sit through a 20-minute improvisation, to feel the gradual crescendo, to understand that repetition is not redundancy but remembrance? Or will we reduce the form to a three-minute clip designed for scroll culture?

Education is as important as exposure.

Survival Through Integrity

Traditional formats do not survive by resisting change. They survive by carrying their core intact through change.

Qawwali has endured for over seven centuries because it is elastic. It has absorbed linguistic shifts, political upheavals and technological transitions. Commercial packaging is simply another chapter in its long journey.

But artists, curators and industry stakeholders carry responsibility. Programming must allow space for depth. Contracts must respect lineage. Recordings must honour the improvisational soul of the form. And audiences must be invited into experience, not just consumption.

The business of qawwali is not inherently contradictory to its spirit. In fact, thoughtful commercial structures can protect and amplify it.

The real question is not whether traditional formats can survive commercial packaging.

The question is whether we can ensure that in packaging the form, we do not empty it.

Because at its heart, qawwali is not a product.It is a prayer set to rhythm.