This theme was also probably inherited from a saintly figure who gave it his name. As in the case of Tarz, the melody sounds like it has traveled a long way, for it is both ancient and archaic in character. The scale on which it rests does not abide by the diatonic logic of eastern musical traditions, but is instead made of a succession of intervals of tones or semi-tones: (C) D E F G A^b B^b C^b D^b . . ., so much so that the melody never reaches the exact D or C octave, either coming close to it (C^b) or surpassing it (D^b). In addition, the alternating tones and semi-tones are sometimes dissonant with the counterpoint of the lower string. Only in the concluding part, with the return to the low note (C), do the tensions built up by the melody finally resolve in a peaceful way. The original core of the melody revolved around a series of notes, F G A^b B^b, but Ostad expanded this theme by more than an octave.

This piece is merely the concluding part of a much longer improvisation, the first part of which was omitted for technical reasons. Nonetheless, it is indicative of another facet of Ostad Elahi’s art: the ability to create a profoundly intimate atmosphere akin to personal prayer or meditation even when playing in front of a dozen of his relatives or students, as was the case here. (Among the two or three words that he is humming, the only one that can be clearly distinguished is dīn, which means faith or conviction.) From early childhood until the end of his life, music was a means of addressing God and sharing his experiences. Ostad used to say: “A musician must consider music as a means of delving within, discovering truths, and reaching divine love, not as a means of achieving fame and glory.”