“How magnificent is the colorful sophistication of Old
Tbilisi!.. Here, in its very heart flows a spring of the
purest water - the source of majestically alluring poetry.
I have drunk amply from this spring and I am proud
that its bounty has flown into my veins.
…I love Tbilisi…
I love this ancient cradle of poetry, this light-hearted
bohemia and the palpitating heart of Georgia...”

Ioseb Grishashvili

 The ashug poetry emerged in Georgia, particularly in Tbilisi, in the 18th century.
   No engagement, marriage, baptism, religious ceremony and other celebrations or festivities would ever take place in old Tbilisi without an ashug and a sazandari 1.
   The ashugs (poets-improvisers) wrote poems, matching music and performing them on various musical instruments. They were representatives of the lower social layer of the city's population and it is natural that in their poem-songs they expressed the soul and feelings of the ordinary people.
   However, the ashugs were admired by the representatives of high society and the masses alike.

   A Georgian king always had an ashug at his court.
   Patara Kakhi, King Erekle II, also had an ashug of Armenian origin at his court named Sayatnova.
   Sayatnova gained particular popularity among the ashugs and profoundly influenced the creative work of his contemporaries and the generations of Ashugs to come. He also contributed to Georgian literature and is considered to be the founder of the mukhambazi verse in Georgian poetry.
   There used to be a great many ashugs in the 18th century Georgia but, according to the words of the Russian writer, Valeri Briusov, “Anything accomplished by Sayatnova's predecessors pales under Sayatnova's halo.”
   The legend has it that when Sayatnova started to recite his poems, nightingales would stop to listen him and delight in his songs.
   The word ashug is of Arabic origin (ashiq) and means an amorous person or a poet glorifying love. Sayatnova was a poet celebrating love but at the same time he was the warrior of King Erekle's advance-guard and wherever the fate of Georgia was at stake, he was with the army playing his saza and encouraged the Georgian warriors in the most difficult moments, instilling in them the hope for victory.
   We know very little about Sayatnova's life. Even the dates of his birth and death are not known for sure. It is through his poems and postscripts to his poems that we are able to find out about some details of his biography. Neither is his last name known since, according to the ashug tradition, Sayatnova is the poet's chosen pseudonym. Arutin was his Christian name.
   The bard of the Georgian King I am…
   Sayatnova, Arunita people say.
   Sayatnova lived in Tbilisi. “Tbilisi, the land of Kartli, is my homeland. My mother is from Avlabar and my father - from Allepo,” he relates in one of his Azeri poems. In another poem he says he is the son of Mighdis. This name was given to people who had been to Jerusalem and had prayed on the grave of the Lord.
   Due to poverty he was unable to acquire an education. He wrote poems and sang them in three languages - Georgian, Armenian and Azeri. He used to write Armenian and Azeri poems in the Georgian script. Along with Armenian, he considered Georgian his native tongue.
   He was a handsmith but his major profession was the art of ashug. He wrote poems, played the musical instruments, sang and chose the tunes himself. First he lived in Tbilisi, then in Telavi. It must have been in the years 1762-65 when he was the sazandari at the court of King Erekle II. Here he received great acclaim and earned the respect of the sovereign. Later, however, due to an unknown reason, the king became displeased with the ashug and dismissed him from the palace. Expulsion from the royal court made Sayatnova suffer immensely and motivated him to seek justice.
   For some time, Sayatnova was a priest in Saingilo. After his wife's death, he became a monk at the Akhpati Monastery. Still, occasionally he would come to Tbilisi and take part in the ashug competition, where he was always the winner, getting the musical instrument of his contender.
   As the legend goes, Sayatnova died in September 1795 during the invasion of Tbilisi by Agha Mahmad Khan.
   Sayatnova was praying in the church as he heard the approaching enemy. He took a cross in his hands and standing at the church gate recited a two-verse poem:
   I shall not betray my Jesus,
   I shall not leave the holy temple!
   These happened to be Sayatnova's last words.
   … sayatnova was buried in the yard of the Surpgeork church, known as the prison church, rising above Tatar Square. Sayatnova's three strophes are inscribed with golden letters on a black marble plate on the church wall:
   My spring is a different spring,
      not everyone can drink from it.
   My song is a different song,
      not everyone can understand it.
   My house is not built on sand.
   My house is built on a rock
      cemented with limestone.
   While Sayatnova's poetry is predominantly love-lyrics, he is also the author of panegyrical, didactic-moralistic, satirical and clerical poems.
   Sayatnova knew his worth as a master and a poet-performer. That is why he told one of the poets in Telavi:
   Don't tell me who the sazandari is!
   My word - ahead of everyone it is,
   Arutin I am, called Sayatnova,
   Upon my uttered word the sky
      begins to thunder!
   Sayatnova was highly appreciated by Georgian lovers of art and poetry. Teimuraz Batonishvili, the first scholar of his work, writes: “Even though the verse is simple, his poems are worthy of praise.” According to a distinguished historian Platon Ioseliani, Sayatnova was “a famous man and an outstanding poet.” And this is what professor Alexandre Khakhanashvili says about the ashug: “At the time of King Erekle II, apart from Besiki, there was a poor Armenian, Sayatnova, a baker by trade who gained fame by his song-poems.” One can quote a host of similar appraisals…
   It is not surprising that Sayatnova has had numerous followers and imitators such as Givishvili, Skandarnova and Hazira, followed by Ganjiskareli, Bechara and others. But Ietim Gurji gained the most widespread popularity among them.

Gamarjoba chemo Tbilis kalako...
(I greet you my Tbilisi!)

   The ancestors of Ietim Gurji (Dabghishvili) were taken prisoners during one of the Ottoman invasions. They were then deported to the Ottoman Empire where they were given the name of “Gurji”. Ietim's father Ibrahim managed to get back to Tbilisi. The ashug was born in Tbilisi in 1875 and since he had no relatives, his father decided to call him Ietim, meaning an orphan.
   His name turned out to be fateful for Ietim - his mother and father died when he was fifteen. Together with his sister, Ietim moved from Kharpukh to the Metekhi district to live in a small room there. He became an apprentice to one of the makers of musical instruments, from whom he studied the craft of making these instruments.
   When he was drafted, Ietim Gurji refused to serve in the army and ran away. He hid among the bakers but was captured very shortly afterwards and sent by force to Zhitomir to discharge his military obligations there. From there he also defected and went into hiding. At first he lived secretly in Odessa, then in Batumi and lastly in Baku. In 1906 Ietim was captured once again and this time he was sent to Poland, to the Dubna prison in the province of Volin. After having served his sentence, Ietim was not allowed to live in Tbilisi until 1916. Upon his return to the native city, the ashug greeted Tbilisi with the following words:
   I greet you my Tbilisi,
   Your lost son has returned to you,
   Your lost son is back
      after twelve years of torment.
   Titsian Tabidze wrote about Ietim Gurji: “In our days, Ietim Gurji, along with the others, develops Sayatnova's ashug poetry more remarkably and nobody will be able to deprive him of the poet's title.”
   Whenever Ietim Gurji appeared in public, people could never conceal their admiration for him: “Ietim Gurji is coming, Ietim is here!” they would shout.
   Alexi Barnov recalls that “Ietim Gurji loved people of every nationality but he would take offence if he heard someone “baptize” him as a man belonging to another nation. One incident convinced me of that. It happened in 1928, in Vera Park. The singer-musician Khachika Talgaukov (later the head of the duduki-players group) and Data Zubiashvili's sons made a bet. The latter maintained that Ietim was Georgian, but Khachika disagreed with them saying he was Armenian. I happened to be in the park as the wager was made. When the bet-makers saw me, they came up to me and, knowing I was a close friend of the poet, inquired about Ietim's nationality. I was unable to answer since I had never discussed this matter with Ietim. Ietim himself had gone somewhere else at that moment. When he came back and joined us, I asked him what his nationality was. Ietim was extremely upset by this unexpected question and answered: “It's not you who wants to know it.” He guessed something was going on and I had to tell him what it was all about. I felt he was not happy. Then he called Khachika and, regardless of his respect for him, told him strictly: “My songs clearly demonstrate that I am Georgian and Ietim Gurji is my name…”
   Ietim died in 1940 at the age of 65. People hand-carried his body all the way from Avlabar to the Vake cemetery. According to his wish, his coffin was covered with a black cloak (nabadi) before it was buried:
   Ietim Gurji has nothing on earth except this black nabadi.
   We are inseparable - me and my nabadi.
 

   ... Never take it away from me
   And put it on the top of my coffin.

   The art of the ashug was born out of the Georgian reality of that epoch. It was with a remarkable intuition that the ashugs absorbed and portrayed the feelings and aspirations of the contemporary society. If not for the ashugs, many of our old songs, poems and melodies would have fallen into oblivion.