Gaekhir Republik’s "Jazz Ahmad Jazz”: A Surreal Spin on Rock — A Commentary by Mohit Kilam

[dropcap]C[/dropcap]loaked in the whimsicality of an everyday Kashmiri conversation set to melody, Gaekhir Republik’s music has established a notable presence in the contemporary cultural scene from Kashmir and out into the international arena. Unafraid in its creative ambition and unyielding in  commitment to their art, the band is consistent in growing their sphere of music-making beyond the limits of fleeting metrics of likes, shares, and trends. Their songs pulsate with vigor and velocity, yet the poetry strives to explore in ways unlike any in our vicinity.

A perfect companion to this ethos is their latest music video for the song “Jazz Ahmad Jazz”, perhaps one of the more elusive tracks from their debut album, Mandnyan Shaam (translated as “Darkness During Daytime”) but also, without a doubt, the catchiest. The video unfolds with a deceptively simple narrative: three children race through village alleyways and fields, leaping over trees, chasing one another without a care. As life unfolds around them, they absorb lessons and inspirations without putting in any conscious effort—much like children do in the trance of child-play.

The three children in the initial scene of the video arrive at the local village shop with their schoolbags latched onto their pheran-clad backs. They greet the shopkeeper and ready themselves for the freedom that awaits them in the joy of playing. The next scene shifts to visuals of Gaekhir Republik’s three members—vocalist Sarfaraz Javaid, bass player and backing vocalist Suhail Ahmad, and guitars and backing vocalist Mohsin Hassan—performing the song in the same pastoral space as three men who will channel those unspoken, lived experiences into making music.

What makes this music video particularly refreshing, especially for a contemporary Kashmiri song, is the departure from familiar tropes associated with most homegrown Kashmiri music videos. This one is neither a romanticized ode to what Kashmir is famous for, nor a grim reflection of what has made it infamous. This song has a high-energy rock sound that masks the sharp satire of its lyrics with an almost uplifting vitality. The video complements this quality, wrapping its critique in the innocent imagery of fun, games, and childhood nostalgia. The essence of what that childhood must have entailed isn’t stated; it lingers between the frames while evoking a shared experience far beyond this digital era of mobile-screen-hypnosis.

The unassuming and innocent space of the village and its “rural subjects” embodied most prominently by the three schoolchildren conceals the traditional poetry shaped by the Kashmiri folklore found within the lyrics of the song. For instance, consider some of the avant-garde surrealism in the song: a helpless mother loses her child to a raven, a symbol of death and misfortune in local folklore. A man, astride a weak, useless horse, plunges from a bridge, only to be devoured by tiny fish. The popular vote, sealed in boxes, raises a toast to the potato prince—a nod to a once-popular leader who urged Kashmiris to replace staple grains with potatoes during a drought. A mysterious accusation naming the culprit (Mumtaza) without offering any explanation, the repetition of which forms an eerie, almost hypnotic outro to the song. These fragmented visions are melancholic, ironic, and defiant. They critique power, loss, and oppression to paint the long history of conflict and cultural erasure. Yet, there is not a single note of defeatism here, only resilience.

The three musicians who form the band lead separate lives for most of the year, making music only when they reunite in Kashmir. Despite its generational quality, their debut album has an abysmally low number of views across platforms, even a year after its release. This video too, is unlikely to make any big dent in that. It is no surprise, therefore, that the band members go on and resume their “regular” lives, working jobs that may not quite fall in the realm of pursuing one’s passion. But that is not necessarily bad. The scarcity of time together, perhaps instrumental in keeping the child inside alive, doesn’t hinder their creativity—it sharpens it.

Today, most Kashmiri minds of any substance have developed an instinct: to navigate, adapt, and juggle multiple realities just to make space for what truly matters. They have had to. The men of Gaekhir Republik embody this instinct. Whether intentional or not, naming Jazz Ahmad Jazz to echo one of subcontinent’s most iconic revolutionary voices is not just apt but poetic. In doing so, they invoke the undefeatable spirit of Faiz Ahmad Faiz, reclaiming what many have sought to diminish in these Orwellian times. And no doubt, he would be proud.

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Video Credits
Story: Gaekhir Republik
Director: Yasir Iqbal
Cinematography: Rayees Amin and Abrar Bashir Chowdhary
Editor: Sibtain Hyder
Colour: Mir Kashif Iqbal
Title Design: Asim Khan

Cast
Abdul Ahad Khanday
Mohammad Aamir Sheikh
Mohammad Younis Sheikh
Mohammad Younis Sheikh
Sarfaraz Javid
Suhail Ahmad
Mohsin Hassan

Audio Credits
Composed by Sarfaraz Javid, Suhail Ahmad and Mohsin Hassan
Produced by Mir Kashif Iqbal
Lyrics: Folklore
Translated by Basim U Nissa

Performed by
Sarfaraz Javid: Lead Vocals
Suhail Ahmad: Backing Vocals
Mohsin Hassan: Electric Guitars and Backing Vocals
Mir Kashif Iqbal: Bass, Guitar Solo, and Backing Vocals

Mixed by Abhishek Sekhri at Kintsugi Studios, New Delhi
Mastered by Patrick Nichols at Audiostasis, New York City