Shubhendra Rao -- "The soul remains Indian; but we cross a few boundaries"

Shubhendra's e-mail of July 1,2004 to Deepak Raja



SHUBHENDRA & SASKIA RAO

My father was a disciple of Pandit Ravi Shankar since 1949, much before I was born. He remained one of his closest disciples and in our house in Bangalore where I grew up, Guruji (Pandit Ravi Shankar) was worshipped as God! Even as a very young child, I was supposed to have shown my talent in music and could sing all the notes even before I could speak. I would even sing film songs in musical notations!!! This talent was noticed by Guruji too and he tested me when I was 3 years old by singing many complicated Taans which I could easily notate in swaras. Not being too strong physically because of my age and not being able to hold the Sitar in its normal position, I would hold it like a South Indian Veena (perhaps seeing my mother practice).

My first memory of my life is also of that day when Guruji, Alla Rakhaji came home to see my grandmother and have dinner with us. The year was 1968 and I was 3 + a few months at that time. My father asked me to play for Guruji which I did. They were very impressed and I have vivid memories of Guruji telling me that I should hold the Sitar in the normal position from then on and practice.

My father was my first Guru and he was very methodical in his teaching--stressing a lot on the exercises and different compositions that he had learnt from guruji. What others found difficult like meends, gamaks came easy for me and every year, whenever Guruji visited Bangalore for concerts, he would check my progress and give a few suggestions. My first lesson from him directly was in the year 1973 in Mysore where he sat with me for more than an hour and taught me Raga Bhairav, teaching me some chalans, meends and a beautiful sargam. Whenever Guruji had master classes for his senior students, my father would record these lessons and the first thing we would do together when he returned to Bangalore was to write down the notations and I could practise it the next few months. I still remember once when he returned from Benaras and there was this difficult Taan in Bilaskhani Todi which Guruji himself had said was very difficult and I could pick it up very fast just by listening to it once from a cassette.

From 1977 onwards, Guruji started calling me to different places like Bombay, Delhi and other places to teach me, either alone or with a few selected students. Then, I could get to spend 10-15 days with him and he would sometimes teach for 7-8 hrs in a day!!! At the same time, he asked me to play in his compositions and recordings that he would do. The first opportunity for me to sit and play with him on stage was in 1983 when I played with him in Delhi in Siri Fort along with 3 senior students of his. At this point, I was the baby in his group of students since I was just 18!!!

It was in 1984 that he asked me to move to Delhi since he had plans of staying in Delhi more and more. I jumped at this opportunity and even though I had 2yrs still left to finish my college, I left everything and moved to Delhi. The next 7-8 yrs were years of practice and learning and absorbing the music. Sometimes, teaching would be at midnight when he felt like it or at 7 in the morning. Even though he would go out on tours, I continued to stay in the house and practice as much as possible. I started playing with him on stage regularly from 1984 onwards and many times, he would take ragas that I had not previously learnt and talas that I had not practiced. Next day he would then sit with the same raga and we would go through it in a detailed way.

The insight he has given me into this music---the spiritual feeling to approach it with---Raga clarity and strict adherence to the raga without taking any liberties with the raga--the different moods of different ragas---everything I have absorbed from him. His humility towards the music is something I have seen and taken with me.

Performing career

I did play a few concerts when I was young--in some youth festivals or competitions but on Guruji's advice, I stopped performing completely till 1987 when an organiser in Bangalore sought Guruji's permission for me to play in a major youth festival. Since then, I have been performing regularly all over. Some of the major music festivals are Shankar Lal festival in 1993 and 1995, Saptak festival many times, Harvallabh Sangeet Mahasabha, Dover Lane Music Conference and others.

My first international visit was to Moscow when Guruji asked me to play in his creation--Inside the Kremlin. My first solo tour internationally was in 1993 to North America and since then, have been performing all over the world every year. I have played in some major music festivals like WOMAD and also collaborated with some non-Indian musicians like Chinese instrument called Pipa played by Gao Hong, Jazz Flutist James Newton---have composed music for ballets. I am also working closely with my wife Saskia who has modified and adapted the Cello for Indian Classical music. We compose and play together special pieces for the Sitar-Cello. Our music is what you could call an extension of Indian classical music because the soul remains Indian but we cross a few boundaries. These compositions have been received with great acclaim internationally.

(c) Deepak S. Raja
The finest recordings of Shubhendra Rao have been produced by India Archive Music Ltd., New York.  IndiaArcMu@aol.com

Bilaskhani Todi: a requiem for Miya Tansen

The creation of Bilaskhani Todi, is attributed to Bilas Khan, one of the four sons  of Mian  Tansen  (1491-1583), the legendary musician  who served  the  Mughal Emperor  Akbar (Reign: 1542-1605), and composed many Ragas, including Mian Ki Todi. Since the present Todi variant is currently the only Raga explicitly attributed to Bilas Khan, it is often referred to as, simply, Bilaskhani.

Legend  has  it  that Tansen thought poorly of Bilas Khan's  talent  as  a musician and had virtually disowned him. It was  at Tansen's funeral, that the grieving Bilas Khan  composed  this version of Todi, which became popular later as Bilaskhani Todi. According to another legend, Mian Tansen indicated, before his death, that the  next "Khalifa" (heir to the Tansen legacy) would be that son  of  his who  could  sing Todi, using the swara material of Bhairavi.  It  is  this challenge that inspired the Bilaskhani Todi.  Interestingly, the  Bhairavi of  the Hindustani tradition is, to this day, called Todi in the  Carnatic (South Indian) tradition.

Thus, according   to  legend,  by  the  evidence   of   inter-changeable nomenclatures,  and  by  the  identity of swara  material, Bhairavi  and Bilaskhani  Todi  are  siblings. However, their  phraseologies  and  their dominant  emotional content are as distinct from each other as cheese  is from soap. Bilaskhani is  a raga of pain, poignancy and pathos. On the  other  hand, Bhairavi,  in  its  various manifestations, can  range  from  the  deeply devotional in fervour to the romantic.

Bilaskhani Todi Scale: 
Ascent:   S r g P d S'/ Descent:  r’ n d M g r / g r n. d. S

The skeletal phraseology of this raga is made interesting by the rules of inclusion and omission. Ma and Ni swaras are omitted in the ascent, but are included in the descent. Ga and Pa swaras are present in ascent, but either missing or subliminally intoned in the descent. The observation of these rules results in the creation of a zigzag phraseology typical of Bilaskhani Todi.

Skeletal phraseology: 
r n. S r g/ r g P [or] r g d P/ g P d S’/ r’ n d M g r/ g P d M g r/ r g M g r/ g r n. d. S

The distinctive phraseology of Bilaskhani is so critical to the differentiation of this raga from Bhairavi, that almost any phrase, if ineptly handled, can blur the distinction. This is one of the reasons why, in vocal as well instrumental music, the raga is generally found to have been performed by mature musicians. The key to Bilaskhani, however, lies in its pain and pathos. Truly great renditions of this raga are, therefore, few. Amongst the many recordings I have heard of this raga, those of Pandit Ravi Shankar, Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and Ustad Ameer Khan (all published) qualify as text-book renditions for their grammatical as well as aesthetic values.

(c) India Archive Music Ltd. New York, 
Producers of the finest recordings of modern and contemporary Hindustani classical music. 

Raga Nat Kamod : sustained by a single bandish

Nat Kamod belongs to an important segment of the Jaipur-Atrauli repertoire of compound ragas, in which Nat (sometimes called Shuddha Nat) is blended with other ragas. According to Dhondutai Kulkarni, the seniormost Jaipur-Atrauli vocalist, the gharana performs as many as 50 different compounds of Nat. The most frequently heard amongst these have been Savani-Nat, Bhoop-Nat, Nat-Bilawal, Nat Malhar, and of course, Nat Kamod. All these compounds are derived by blending selected phrases from the gharana’s primary Nat bandish “Bairan nanadiya” with phraseologies of other ragas. Each Nat compound has a different set of Nat phrases incorporated in it, thus avoiding the cliché’ ridden Nat identification more commonly heard in Nat compounds of other gharanas.

Nat Kamod is a rare raga, derived as a compound of Nat of the Bilawal parent scale, and Kamod of the Kalyan parent scale of Hindustani music. Its rarity is also reflected in the rarity of its documentation.

Nat:  Ascent: SRGMPDNS’: Descent: S D P M R S
Kamod: Ascent: SR/PM^P/NDS’: Descent: S’NDP/M^PDP/ GMPGMRS
(Scale documentation: Subbarao B, Raga Nidhi, 4th impression, 1996, Music Academy, Madras.)

Manikbuwa Thakurdas, a scholar-musician of the Gwalior gharana, is the only authority to have offered a discussion on the melodic personality of the raga. He argues that the popular Kamod, as documented above, is not pure, as it has a fragment of Nat (GMPGMRS) embedded in it. As the pure Nat went out of circulation, the residual phrase of Nat in Kamod got wrongly associated with Kamod. (Raga Darshan, Vol. IV. 1st Edition. Laxminath Charitable Trust, Rajpipla, Gujarat).

Thakurdas, however, concedes that in compound ragas, the parameters of raga grammar, such as the aroh-avaroh (ascending and descending scale), vadi-samvadi (dominant and sub-dominant) swaras, and even chalan (skeletal phraseology) are irrelevant. The musician has considerable freedom in blending the two ragas, the only relevant yardstick for the compound being its distinctiveness, aesthetic appeal and coherence. This perspective is even more valid for a rare raga like Nat Kamod, whose chalan tends to get defined by the bandishes in circulation.

Only four recordings of this raga are available as a reference point. They belong to Dhondutai Kulkarni (India Archive Music, NY), Sharafat Hussain Khan of Agra gharana (unpublished), and Kesarbai Kerkar of the Jaipur-Atrauli gharana (one unpublished concert recording, and one 78 RPM compilation: HMV/EMI: EALP:1278). All three musicians have performed the same bandish (Nevar baajo). This bandish has virtually been synonymous with the raga for over half a century, and is perhaps the sole repository of its raga-ness still in circulation.

Based on Kesarbai, Dhondutai, and Sharafat recordings, the chalan of the Nat/ Chhayanat biased treatment of Nat Kamod may be documented as follows:

SRRGGMMPP/ PDPMGMP or RPMP/ PDDP/ PDPS’ or PS’NR’S’/ G’M’R’S’ or M’R’S’NR’S’/ SDDP or SDnP/ PDPR/ GMPGMRS. 

Interestingly, the bandish performed by the three appears to tilt the raga’s melodic personality towards Nat more than Kamod. However, Sharafat Hussain’s rendition appears to have allowed traces of Chhaya Nat rather than pure Nat into Nat Kamod. That Sharafat has rendered it in ultra-fast tempo, while Kesarbai has rendered it in medium tempo Teental might possibly have influenced the blurred presence of Nat in his rendition.

In itself, however, the confusion of pure Nat with either pure Chhaya or with Chhayanat is not rare considering their proximity, and the difficulty these ragas have in maintaining their independent raga-ness in rendition. This is probably why the pure Nat has gone out of circulation, to be replaced by compounds such as Nat-Bhairav, Nat-Bilawal, Nat-Bihag etc., and pure Chhaya has disappeared leaving its trace primarily in Chhayanat. In conclusion, Nat Kamod appears to belong to a group with fluid grammatical boundaries, with the burden of identification resting substantially on the bandish.

(c) India Archive Music Ltd. New York
The finest recordings of Raga Nat Kamod have been produced by India Archive Music Ltd., New York. 

Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, (1922-2011)

Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, the pre-eminent Hindustani  vocalist breathed his last in the early hours of January 24 after a prolonged illness. He would have been 89 on February 4. Although the maestro had retired a few years ago, his passing away makes the void palpable.

Amongst 20th century giants of vocalism, Pandit Bhimsen Joshi enjoyed a rare combination of popularity and stature. He charmed three generations of music lovers with his renditions of Khayal, Thumree, and Bhajans in Hindi, Kannada, and Marathi. According to reliable estimates, he could have delivered more than 10,000 concerts during his career spanning six decades, and recorded over a 100 discs. He was also the only Hindustani classical vocalist to have earned the Platinum Disc of the Gramophone Company of India (HMV).

Bhimsenji is acclaimed as an exponent of the Kairana gharana (stylistic tradition) of Khayal vocalism, having trained under Sawai Gandharva, the tallest disciple of Ustad Abdul Kareem Khan. He was, however, a reformer of the gharana’s music, and the initiator of an original style, incorporating features of several other stylistic traditions. This explains the influence he continues to wield over younger generations of audiences and male vocalists.

The Bharat Ratna, conferred on him in 2008, was the crowning glory of an illustrious career. Panditji was already amongst the most decorated musicians of the country. Amongst his major awards are: Ustad Enayet Khan Foundation Award (2002), Padma Vibhushan (1999), HMV Platinum Disc (1986), Padma Bhushan (1985), Sangeet Natak Akademi Award (1976), and Padma Shri (1972 ).

Childhood and grooming

Bhimsen Joshi was amongst the most distinguished products of the vibrant bi-lingual Northern Karnataka musical culture. He was born into a Kannada-speaking, Madhava Brahmin family of Kirtankar-s, hailing from Gadag in Dharwad district. His father, Gururaj Joshi, was the Headmaster of a Municipal School. He wanted Bhimsen to qualify as an engineer or a doctor. But, Bhimsen’s only passion was music.

The defining moment of young Bhimsen’s life came when, around the age of 12, he heard a three-minute 78 rpm record of Ustad Abdul Kareem Khan, featuring a Khayal in raga Basant, and a Thumree in raga Jhinjhoti. He decided that that he had to be able to sing like the Ustad, and quietly left home one night in search of a Guru, with neither any baggage, nor any money in his pocket.

His search was arduous, replete with ticket-less travel followed by nights spent in jail, destitution, singing for his supper, sleepless nights in strange places, days without a square meal, menial jobs taken up to keep body and soul together, and exploitation by insensitive employers. The three-year long odyssey took him to Pune, Gwalior, Calcutta and even  Jallandhar. But, none of these cities delivered to him a Guru.

At the Harvallabh Sammelan in Jallandhar, Bhimsen met the Gwalior gharana stalwart, Vinayakrao Patwardhan. Patwardhan advised him to return home, and start studies with Sawai Gandharva (Rambhau Kundgolkar), the most distinguished disciple of Abdul Kareem Khan. Rambhau had, by that time, settled in Kundgol, not far from Bhimsen’s hometown, Gadag. So, to the extreme relief of his parents, the 15-year old Bhimsen returned home.

Entering Sawai Gandharva’s tutelage was not easy. The Guru demanded a fee of Rs. 25 per month, one-fourth of Bhimsen’s father’s salary. Despite the Senior Joshi’s responsibility for seven children, he made the sacrifice --just to keep Bhimsen closer to home.

Bhimsen’s education was typical of the Gurukul Paddhati in those days. The disciple lived with the Guru, served him in every way, and learnt music. For almost 18 months after formalizing the tutelage, Sawai Gandharva taught him nothing, but tested Bhimsen’s determination by entrusting menial domestic chores to him. Bhimsen passed the test with flying colors. Once the maestro was won over, he stopped accepting fees, and taught him from four in the morning till midnight every day, with only a couple of breaks in between.

Rambhau’s teaching was in the traditional mode, without any notations being written or permitted. All learning was by internalization and memorization. Even after serious lessons commenced, the burden of domestic responsibilities in Rambhau’s household continued to interrupt Bhimsen’s training routine. In dry Kundgol, it was Bhimsen's duty to fetch unending pitchers of water for his guru's house from a distant water tank. "Poor fellow; in the scorching heat, he would carry water on his shoulders… but as he walked he would constantly sing. How many times I've heard him practicing the taans of Multani, Shankara…!" recalled Gangubai Hangal, who was his senior amongst the maestro’s disciples (an interview to Deepa Ganesh of The Hindu). If Bhimsen needed clarifications on his lessons, he sought them from Gangubai. During his apprenticeship with Sawai Gandharva, which lasted about five years, the maestro taught Bhimsen three ragas – Todi, Multani and Puriya.  He learnt several other raga-s by supporting his Guru at concerts.

Career

After returning home from Rambhau’s tutelage, Bhimsen felt attracted to the thumree and semi-classical genres, as performed in the Purab (Eastern UP) region. So, he traveled to Benares and Lucknow, to hear the thumree stalwarts – Begum Akhtar, Siddheshwari Devi, Rasoolan Bai. Begum Akhtar recommended Bhimsenji for perhaps his first job as a musician – with All India Radio, Lucknow, a major center of classical music in those days. In 1943, he took a transfer to Bombay, the music capital of the country, which opened the doors of destiny for him.

Bhimsen gave his first public concert of classical music in Pune at the age of 19 (1941), and showed great promise. In 1944, he made his first 78 rpm discs of Marathi and Kannada devotional songs, which gave him tremendous popularity in Maharashtra and Karnataka. In 1946, he started recording classical music for HMV, and these releases also sold extremely well.

In the same year, he achieved a major breakthrough at the 60th birthday celebrations of his Guru, Sawai Gandharva, held in Pune. His performance at the event, with the most influential patrons and the greatest musicians of the era in attendance, heralded the arrival of a new maestro. His fame spread steadily thereafter, and within a decade, he became   the busiest vocalist on the concert circuit. By the 1960’s, Bhimsen Joshi’s contemporaries in the profession had begun to joke – enviously, no doubt -- that he knew every air hostess on Indian Airlines by name, and the entire Bradshaw (Indian Railways time-table) by heart.

His career graph zoomed once concert-length recordings became available in the mid-1960s through LP records, and later audio-cassettes. He achieved iconic status in the 1970s after the publication of “Santavani”, a four-hour collection of Bhajans. He also enhanced his popularity with his playback renditions for films. His songs for the Marathi film, Gulacha Ganapati, and Hindi films like Basant Bahar, Bhairavi, Anhoni, and Ankahee brought his voice into homes that had little interest in classical music. Joshi became a universally recognized voice of a resurgent India in the 1990’s with his rendition of “Mile Sur Mera Tumhara” in a series of television clips devised to promote national integration.

Recording industry professionals claim that commercial recordings have contributed much more to Bhimsenji’s success and popularity than any of his contemporaries. Such a proposition is impossible to either prove or disprove because the concert and recording markets stimulate each other in very complex ways. However, there could be something to this belief, considering the insatiable appetite of recording companies for his music, and his willingness and ability to repeatedly give them winners.

Like most other leading musicians of his generation, Bhimsenji did perform for adulatory audiences abroad. But, in a radio interview with the Marathi littérateur, PL Deshpande, he almost brushed aside this facet of his career as insignificant. He evidently placed the highest value on his relationship with audiences at home.

Repertoire

Bhimsen has been singled out -- rather unjustly -- for his limited repertoire of raga-s, and their repeated rendition at concerts and on commercial recordings. He has built up a formidable edifice of musicianship with his renditions of about 20 ragas, mainly -- Darbari, Puriya Kalyan, Miya-ki-Todi, Lalit, Shuddha Kalyan, Miya-ki-Malhar, Puriya, Multani, Marwa, Malkauns, Maru Bihag, Abhogi, Gaur Sarang, Brindabani Sarang, and Jaijaiwanti.

This pattern is not unique to Bhimsen Joshi, and is also understandable. There are, of course, a few gharana-s which pride themselves in performing a wide range of raga-s. A majority of them, however, have a marked preference for a select few ragas which enable them to express their stylistic inclinations most effectively. Further, each musician has learnt some raga-s most intensively, practiced most rigorously, and found most suited to his temperament. He excels in these ragas, and audiences never tire of his renderings of them because he is able to present them with freshness and impact each time. But, because the finest amongst musicians have internalized the concept of raga-ness, they are able to easily master new raga-s, and also create new melodic entities of their own.

Bhimsen has been candid about the limitations of his repertoire, without being apologetic. But, like many others, he has responded to public demand and the goading of recording companies, by recording an entire series of “Unsung Ragas”, many of which are rare, and even created new ragas like Kalashri ( a blend of Kalavati and Rageshri) and Lalit-Bhatiyar (combining Lalit with Bhatiyar).

Musicianship

No other 20th century vocalist, with the exception of Ustad Faiyyaz Khan and Ustad Bade Gulam Ali Khan, has held his audiences in abject surrender like Bhimsen Joshi has done. Panditji’s unique bonding with audiences is attributed to several factors.

The most significant facet of his musical personality was his voice with all its qualities – precision, richness, power, range, malleability and agility – and the emotional involvement he invests in every rendition. Veteran connoisseurs have also noted that, over the years, there had been no change in the youthfulness and freshness of his voice, and delivery. Another important aspect was his wide repertoire of genres, and his equal command over all departments of musicianship in each of them. The third substantial facet has been his amazing consistency as a performer. Amongst vocalists, his consistency rating has been matched, in the last 60 years, perhaps only by Ustad Bade Gulam Ali Khan. Enhancing the influence of these qualities was his ability to astutely judge profiles of audiences, select the repertoire most suited to them, and to deliver it with gripping impact.

Bhimsen Joshi’s star started rising while the titans of the pre-independence era – Kesarbai Kerkar, Omkarnath Thakur, and Krishnarao Pandit -- were still active. He built his career sharing the stage with formidable contemporaries -- Gangubai Hangal, Hirabai Barodekar, and Roshanara Begum of his own gharana, Ustad Ameer Khan of Indore/ Bhindi Bazaar, Ustad Bade Gulam Ali Khan of Patiala, and DV Paluskar of Gwalior. The stature and popularity of Joshi, a classicist, remained unaffected by the later rise of the hugely influential romanticists – Kumar Gandharva, Jasraj and Kishori Amonkar. His musicianship has shone brightly amidst such a galaxy because his vocalism could outgrow the shadows of orthodox Kairana without sacrificing its essentials, and evolve into an original modern style with a broad-spectrum appeal.

During his long career, Bhimsen Joshi trained a few competent students. If they do not feature in the “Who’s Who” of the next generation, his is not an isolated case. With the demise of aristocratic patronage after independence, music became an extremely stressful and nomadic profession, which left thriving musicians with neither the time, nor the temperament, for being effective Gurus. However, thanks to the ample availability of his recordings, Bhimsen Joshi’s influence pervades all of male vocalism. In fact, today, it is difficult to find a male singer below 50, who has not been visibly influenced by him.

Beyond music

Bhimsen Joshi is greatly admired for setting up an organization for hosting the annual Sawai Gandhrva music festival at Pune in the memory of his Guru. The festival, held consistently for 58 years now, is Bhimsen’s unique contribution to India’s cultural life. The three-day festival features some of the finest musicians in the country, while also providing a platform for the launch of promising young talent. The concerts begin at 8.00 pm and end in the wee hours of the morning, with audiences ranging from 7000 to 15,000. During the event, Bhimsen Joshi worked like any other volunteer, often seen sweeping the stage, bringing the instruments of other musicians to the concert platform, or helping younger artists tune their Tanpura-s to perfection. The Sawai Gandharva Festival has now acquired a life of its own, and bids fair to survive its founder.

The best known passion of Bhimsen Joshi outside music was cars. He always owned a fleet of big cars in which he loved driving himself and all his accompanists, along with their instruments, to concert locations within a motorable distance. He had his share of car accidents; but nothing could make him quit driving. His passion for cars was, not surprisingly, accompanied by an astonishing knowledge of automobile engineering. He once told an interviewer --. “If I had not been a musician, I would have happily spent my life as a garage mechanic tuning engines of cars”.

Other than his romance with cars, Bhimsen was a man of simple interests – yoga, swimming, and football. Though he had slowed down on his concert engagements after turning 75, he demonstrated his lifelong commitment to physical fitness at the age of 85 by performing for 40 minutes at the 55th Sawai Gandharva Festival in December, 2007.

Pandit Bhimsen Joshi was the last of the great 20th century classicists in Hindustani vocalism. His most valuable legacy is the massive archive of music, recorded over a period of more than 60 years, covering a variety of genres. In this, he bequeaths to the nation a library of some of the finest specimens of 20th century vocalism.

© Deepak S. Raja 2011

Confucius – “It is only the Superior Man who can know music.”

Reproduced from: “The Wisdom of Confucius”
Peter Pauper Press, Mount Vernon, New York.1963.

The inner nature of man is the province of music; that of ceremonies is his exterior. The result of music is perfect harmony; that of ceremonies the perfect observance of propriety. When one’s inner man is harmonious, and the outer man thus docile, the people see it in his face and do not quarrel with him; they look at his behavior and they become neither rude, nor indifferent. Hence the saying – “Carry out perfectly ceremonies and music; and give them their outward manifestation and application, and there will be nothing under Heaven difficult to manage.”

Let music attain its full results, and there will be no dissatisfied minds; let ceremony do so, and there will be no quarrels. If courtesies and bowings marked the government of the Kingdom, there would be what might be called music and ceremony, indeed. Violent oppression would not take place; the princes would appear submissively at the court as guests; there would be no occasion for the weapons of war, and no employment of the five punishments; the common people would have nothing to complain of; and the Son of Heaven no cause of anger. Such a state of things would be universal music.

All modulations of sound take their rise from the mind of man; and music is the inter-communication of them in their relations and differences. Hence even beasts know sound; and the masses of the people know the modulations; but they do not know music. It is only the Superior Man who can know music.

© Peter Pauper Press: Mount Vernon, New York. 1963

Raga Jog: a versatile raga

Jog is an immensely popular and versatile post-sunset raga in contemporary music.. The raga now enjoys considerable popularity also in the semi-classical and light genres. The raga did not merit elaborate discussion in major early 20th century works such as Bhatkhande Sangeet Shastra. It can be assumed, therefore, to have acquired its significance in the latter half of the last century. The raga bears a close resemblance to raga Nat of the Carnatic [South Indian] tradition.

According to Manikbuwa Thakurdas, [Raga Darshan, Vol II, 1st Edition, Krishna Bros. Ajmer, 1988], two variants of the raga are in circulation. The variant with an affinity to raga Dhani utilizes only the komal [flat] Ni, while the variant with a Tilang affinity utilizes both, the komal as well as the shuddha [natural] Ni swaras. The latter version was performed commonly well into the 1960s by even the leading musicians of the pre-independence generation. The problem with the Tilang-biased [twin-Ga and twin-Ni usage] was that the Tilang facet tended to dominate the aesthetic experience, and the resultant raga found it difficult to establish its distinctive melodic personality. In later years, therefore, the preference has stabilized around the Dhani-biased variant with only a single [komal] Ni and twin-Ga usage. This is the raga currently recognized as Jog.

The raga belongs to the Khamaj parent scale of Hindustani music, and is hyper-pentatonic, omitting Re and Dh swaras in the ascent as well as descent. It deploys both Ga swaras -- the shuddha [natural] Ga in the ascent, and the komal [flat] Ga in the descent.

Ascent: S G M P n S’ Descent: S’ n P M g S

According to Subbarao [Subbarao, B. Raga Nidhi, Vol. II, 4th Edition, 1996, Music Academy, Madras], the Vadi and Samvadi swaras [primary and secondary dominants] of the raga are [shuddha] Ga and the higher-octave Sa respectively. According to Manikbuwa Thakurdas [Ibid], the Vadi-Samvadi are Pa and Sa. In contemporary practice, however, the treatment of the raga suggests [shuddha] Ga as the vadi and base-Sa as the samvadi. However, after the release of a Jog recording of the influential vocalist, Ustad Ameer Khan [STCS.04B.7374], Ma has also gained considerable significance in the raga, though not sufficient to replace Ga as the vadi.

In the phrasing pattern of Jog, phrases are permitted to terminate only on S, [shuddha] G, and P, two of the three being the vadi-samvadi pair. However, the contemporary Jog conforms to a general tendency amongst musicians to enlarge the melodic potential of pentatonic ragas by treating all the swaras as permissible terminal points in phrasing. A melodic focus on Ma became acceptable after Ustad Ameer Khan’s rendition of the raga. Musicians of later generations have now added [komal] Ni to the permissible terminal points for phrasing, thus effectively removing all constraints on phrasing, and allowing the tonal geometry of the raga to become the sole repository of its raga-ness.

The chalan [sekeletal phraseology] of the contemporary raga form is fairly straightforward, though biased in favour of exploiting the poignant interplay between the two Ga swaras in the purvanga [lower tetrachord], where the center of gravity of the raga lies.

Chalan: S n. g S/ n. P. n. g S/ n. S G/ S G G M/ G M g S/ S G M P/ M n P/ G M P n/ P n S’/ n P M G/ S G M g S or occasionally G M G g S.

The interplay of the two Ga swaras, along with the purvanga bias of the raga impart a degree of pathos to the raga, which remains the dominant aesthetic feature of the Jog experience at any tempo of rendition. This interplay follows definite rules of phrasing. As a rule, whenever a raga utilizes both the manifestations of a particular swara, the komal and the shuddha, one of them is used in the ascent and the other in the descent. With perhaps the sole exception of Lalit, which uses two Ma swaras, their consecutive deployment in the same direction is discouraged. However, the additional pathos released by such use has frequently tempted musicians to break this rule. As a result, Jog appears now to permit consecutive twin-Ga usage in the descent [M-G-g-S], although such usage is required to be judicious and occasional.

(c) India Archive Music Ltd., New York.
The finest recordings of Raga Jog have been produced by India Archive Music, New York. IndiaArcMu@aol.com.

Indrakishore Mishra – “Everyone thought the Bettiah Dhrupad gharana had disappeared”

Mishra spoke to Deepak Raja on December 22, 2002

My gharana traces its origins to two brothers, Jasraj and Yuvraj Mallik, who served the court of the Mughal Emperor, Shahjehan (17th century) as vocalists and Rudra Veena players. When they accepted the patronage of Bettiah rulers, they retained “Mallik”, the title granted to them at the Mughal court. Our family name is Mishra, and family lore claims descent from Miya Tansen, who was Ramtanu Mishra before conversion to Islam. Nobody has proof, and none of it matters anyway. But, it seems that the progeny of his Hindu wife retained the Hindu name and faith, while those of his Moslem wife adopted Islam and Moslem names. A few generations ago, my family dropped “Mallik”, and reverted to “Mishra”.

Our original patrons, Anand Kishore Singh, and his son, Naval Kishore Singh of Bettiah, were prolific poets and cultivated musicians. They wrote odes to Mata Bhavani (The Mother Goddess) with specific tala-s (rhythmic cycles) and raga-s in mind, and then gave them to Jasraj and Yuvraj Mallik to cast into melody for performance at the royal assemblies. This is probably why my family neglected, and lost, the art of the Rudra Veena. After independence, the support of the ruling family vanished. By this time, the world outside had lost interest in Dhrupad, and found it even easier to forget about our orthodox stream of the genre. Despite great hardship, my father and grandfather remained committed to our tradition.

The repertoire of bandish-es (Pada-s/ compositions) in my gharana includes bandish-es by Miya Tansen, his Guru, Swami Haridas, even his Guru, Vyasa Das, and Nayak Baiju, popularly known as Baiju Bawra. My grandfather reportedly knew 25,000 bandish-es. My father knew 2500, and documented them with the verse, tala, and melodic notation. Of these, he taught me about 1500, in about hundred ragas. This is all that remains of our legacy of compositions. Almost all our bandish-es have been preserved with their four original stanzas, and melodic components. Some have even six stanzas. Our repertoire includes many ragas, like Devsakh, Lachhasakh and Jeelaf, which are rare even in Khayal music today. Our bandish-es are in various tala-s basic to the Dhrupad genre – Chautal, Dhamar, Surfakta (Sula Tala), Tivra, Bramha tala, Adi tala, and Sadra (Jhap tala).

Our family has taken great pains to ensure that each generation performs the music exactly as the earlier generations did. Willful deviation is discouraged, and all change is inadvertent. We are committed to the original philosophy of Dhrupad as devotional music. The Pada (the verse/ hymn) is of supreme significance in our gharana. We do not do anything that will damage the integrity of the poetic element, and we do everything to ensure that the communication of emotional content of the poetry is enhanced in the rendition.

We treat the bandish as the core of Dhrupad. This is why the rendition of the bandish consumes a larger part of our performance. Each bandish has a prescribed laya (tempo), and we perform it only in that tempo. We also believe that the composer of the bandish has infused the poetic-melodic-rhythmic entity with all the musical wisdom it was intended to have, and that this wisdom works best when melody and rhythm work in conjunction with the literary value of the poetry. In the Pada rendition, our gharana does not permit any distortion of poetic meaning through rhythmic improvisations. We render the Chautal bandish-es in their pristine form. Our musicianship is displayed in the successful communication of the Rasa (emotional content) of the poetry. In other tala-s, we permit only such rhythmic improvisations as respect the sanctity of the poetic-melodic form.

Our raga grammar also remains rooted in tradition, and often ignores recent changes. There is always evidence -- either textual or traditional -- to support our raga grammar. And yet, our ragas often confuse audiences because they do not know the old forms of these ragas. Actually, the recent changes in ragas are intended to differentiate similar ragas with greater sharpness. But, if a musician’s training is sound, he does not need to re-write grammar to achieve this.

On several occasions, I have discussed our music with Ustad Zia Fareeduddin Dagar. He confirms that my music represents the fundamental ideology of Dhrupad, and is the foundation also of the Dagar tradition. He has advised me firmly not to deviate from our traditional style. Considering his views, it seems possible that, at some stage in the past, Dhrupad performance was fairly uniform. Over the years, probably encouraged by different patrons, other traditions evolved newer modes of rendition, while our lineage remained conservative.

Our family follows a combination of the Gauhar Bani and Khandhar Bani styles of Dhrupad. Our style is now being especially noticed for the Khandhar Bani flavour, expressed in the crisp gamak form, which is now rare in Dhrupad vocalism. In our gharana, the aggressiveness of Khandar Bani is not a generalized approach, as it is in some gharanas. It is used very selectively in the alap, and even more selectively in the rendition of the Pada – only when the poetic and melodic elements demand the creation of menacing aural impressions. Nobody should ever forget that our music has evolved under the supervision and patronage of poets. Every facet of our music is subordinated to the literary content of Dhrupad.

As a child, I picked up a lot of our family’s music by just being there. But, having seen the price the family had to pay for its commitment, I had little interest in studying Dhrupad. My father was convinced that, one day, Dhrupad would return to the mainstream, and persuaded me to study the art. I had studied formally with him for about 15 years, when I got my first opportunity to register the presence of our gharana on the post-independence Dhrupad scene.

I started with a considerable disadvantage. Everyone thought the once famous Bettiah gharana had disappeared. We also have a geographical disadvantage. We are located 200 Kilometres away even from the state capital, Patna, whish itself is no great cultural centre. Even today, roads, railways and communications service our region poorly. My father was not a very enterprising person. So, when the Sangeet Natak Akademi organized a Dhrupad Sammelan in the early 1980s our gharana was not featured. I used every device in the art of persuasion to be heard. My concert was a great success, and that was the beginning of my career and the acceptance of the Bettiah gharana as a living tradition. Since then, Zia Fareeduddin Dagar has helped to bring my talent to the forefront, and I have made headway according to my ability. But, the struggle is not over yet.

I have frequent disagreements with the staff at Patna radio, from where I broadcast since 1994. Sometimes we disagree on raga authenticity; sometimes on the appropriate time for performing a raga, and always on how Dhrupad should be presented. I cannot transport them to the Vaishnava temples of Vrindavan or to the 18th century to prove my point. Neither can I run down rival Dhrupad gharana-s who have chosen a different path. Despite minor skirmishes with the authorities, I get three broadcasts a year. The audience is only local. Even my village receives my broadcasts poorly. Because of these disadvantages, I get very few concert engagements in the major music events, which are staged in the big cities.

I am training my son and daughters in our gharana’s music. I could not enthuse my nephews, as they found Khayal and Ghazal more inviting. A have a handful of students outside the family. I cannot be sure my gharana will survive, because I am no longer young, and my own breakthrough has yet to come. A European recording company has released two CDs of mine, which have been well received. An American company has now recorded me. The foreign market has provided a ray of hope.

© Deepak S. Raja, 2002
The finest recordings of Indrakishore Mishra have been produced by India Archive Music, New York. IndiaArcMu@aol.com

Vijaya Jadhav Gatlewar – “I am disheartened by the lukewarm response to rare ragas”

Vijaya spoke to Deepak Raja on December 24, 2001

My father, DB Jadhav worked as a clerk in a Bombay textile mill, and was an empanelled vocalist of All India Radio. He had studied primarily with Natthan Khan [died: 1946], the nephew of Alladiya Khan of the Jaipur gharana. However, he had also studied with senior musicians of Agra, and Gwalior gharanas. Despite his diverse training, he performed in the Jaipur style. Once he came home from work, our home had only music, and nothing else. He had two or three disciples who took training with him every evening from 6 to 9. I overheard this training, and unknown to my father, started singing. It was only when I opted for music as a subject for my high school graduation that he discovered my talent. Thereafter, he took my training seriously. I became a permanent fixture of his evening sessions.

To speed up my progress as a performer, he encouraged me to enter music competitions all over the country. I competed in light as well as classical segments, and brought home a string of trophies. Once I had gained confidence, my father stopped my competitive activity, because he believed art should not be pursued like a competitive sport. But, by then -- I was 18 -- I had decided to pursue music as a profession, and my parents endorsed my decision. In 1977, my father placed me under training with Nivrutti Buwa Sarnaik, whom he greatly admired. At that time, my father was approaching retirement, and feared that he would soon be unable to pay for my tuitions. Dada [Nivrutti Buwa Sarnaik] assured him that he would continue teaching me free of charge if this happened. That very year, I was granted the Kesarbai Kerkar Memorial Scholarship of the National Centre for the Performing Arts, and my Guru was saved from having to make a financial sacrifice on my account.

Within a year of my starting training with him, Dada was invited to become a Resident Guru at the Sangeet Research Academy [SRA] in Calcutta. He wanted me to go with him, and my family readily consented. I trained with Dada at the SRA upto the end of his tenure at the Academy [1978-1993], taking only occasional breaks, after 1988, to be with my husband in Bombay.

In every respect, the SRA is an ideal environment for the serious pursuit of music. It has a beautiful campus in peaceful surroundings, and is equipped with an excellent library of recordings. During my tenure as a scholar, the Academy was also a goldmine of Gurus. Distinguished musicians from outside also visited the Academy frequently and performed.

The training system of the Academy is modelled after the Guru-Shishya Paramapara. Each Guru was assigned a maximum of two or three students. We lived on the same premises as our Guru, and trained under his supervision. Our days began at 4.30 am and ended only after midnight.

The personalised training at the Academy was a priceless experience for me. From the very beginning, Dada considered my early training with my father valuable, and started building upon it. At the Academy, his training became even more fine-tuned to my specific needs. Unlike Bombay, where his monetary compulsions forced him to teach a large class, the Academy allowed him to give personalised attention. He made me work hard on the fundamental refinements of my art, such as intonation, and voice-culture. Having excelled in competitions, initially I found these efforts humiliating. But he insisted on perfection, and had all the time and the freedom to pursue it.

At the Academy, I also got to learn Thumree from Girija Devi. She trained me with great affection. But, I did not become a Ganda-bandh [formally initiated] disciple of hers because it would have been impossible for me to do justice to both the genres.

In addition to giving me the best of my own Guru, the SRA also gave me what no individual Guru could have given me. The general sessions for all students included seminars, guided listening sessions, and group discussions, which helped me to acquire an understanding of different approaches to music, and the different genres. The Academy also promoted my career as a performing musician within India and abroad.

Dada loved the Academy so much that he wanted to die there. But, his health deteriorated dramatically in 1993, and we packed up when he decided he could no longer fulfil his responsibilities.

After entering the profession, I wonder whether spending so many years in training, away from the concert platform, was really worthwhile. I am disheartened often by the lukewarm response I get for presenting the rare ragas of the Jaipur-Atrauli tradition. But, gradually, I am getting a response from audiences who realise the rarity and the value of my art. Although I am not impatient for recognition and success, it would be nice to have it while I am still in the prime of physical health and creative energy.

© Deepak S. Raja 2001

Read a detailed profile of the artist in: "Khayal Vocalism: Continuity within Change".
The finest recordings of Vijaya Jadhav Gatlewar have been produced by India Archive Music Ltd. New York. IndiaArcMu@aol.com

Girija Devi – “I am in the service of Goddess Saraswati”

Girija Devi spoke to Deepak Raja on February 24, 2004

When I was five or six years old, my father placed me under the tutelage of Sarju Prasad Mishra. In those days, girls from genteel society did not go to the teacher’s house to learn; they were taught music in their own homes. Sarju Prasad Mishra was a very good singer, but performed as a Sarangi accompanist. For the first three years, I was taught the basics – just the scale and its transpositions and transformations. Then, for a couple of years, I was taught Khayals in the major raga-s: Yaman, Bhairav, Bilawal.

Alongside the Khayal, I was introduced to Tappa-s and Thumree-s. Tappa was a very important part of the training at that stage because it trained my vocal chords for melodic agility. This facility has to be inculcated when we are young, before the vocalization mechanism becomes rigid. Saraju Prasadji taught me by singing, but mostly accompanying me on the Sarangi. In Hindustani music, Sarangi-based training has been a very powerful aid to pitch precision. The most melodious amongst 20th century vocalists – Abdul Kareem Khan, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, and reportedly even Ameer Khan – started life as Sarangi players. I studied with Sarju Prasadji for about eleven years before he expired. I was seventeen then. I got married around that time, had my first child, and took a gap of three years before I resumed training.

My second Guru, Shrichand Mishra was a vocalist, and a master of the Tabla, who also played several other instruments – Sitar and Sarod – as a hobby. He belonged to the Seniya tradition (lineage of Miya Tansen). He had a strong grounding in Dhrupad, which influenced his approach to the modern genres. During his tutelage with Dargahiji, the legendary Guru of Benares, he had also acquired a vast repertoire of other genres, such as Tap-Khayal, Khayal-numa, Kaul, Kalbana, Gul and Naksh. Several of these genres are extinct now. I studied with him for about twenty years. I was almost forty when he expired.

The Benares tradition is of “Chau-mukhi Gayan” (Vocalism with four facets). Our training encompasses the four principal genres – Dhrupad, Khayal, Tappa, and Thumree. Therefore, Khayal and the semi-classical genres do not present themselves to us as alternatives to building a career. When I was growing up, Maharashtra emerged as the home of Khayal vocalism, with its own regional and devotional genres pushing the thumree into a corner. Upto Abdul Kareem Khan and his immediate disciples, the Thumree retained its stature, though it changed its complexion.

In later years, however, the new Khayal establishment appeared to create a climate of opinion in which the Thumree and its allied genres were regarded as either easy to master, or otherwise inferior. This bothered me immensely. So, I decided to match the competence of Khayal vocalists on their “home turf”, and challenge them to match me on mine. I worked very hard on my Khayal, and performed it more widely and consistently than any other Benares vocalist in recent times. I make it a point to perform a Khayal at every concert, and it consumes almost half of the duration of my recital. After that, I perform a few semi-classical pieces. I sing a Tappa as often as I can because it is disappearing, and I want to do my bit to keep it alive.

I do not see any conflict between Thumree and Khayal. They are distinct genres, each with its own character. One can manage both equally well if one has the training and the temperament. In the Khayal, we get to the root of the raga’s melodic personality, and elaborate upon it according to the established presentation format. In the thumree, we get into emotional depth of the poetry, and express it as musically as we can. I was brought up in a family with a very deep involvement with literature, particularly poetry. So, I handle poetry in thumree with sensitivity. In terms of the stance, my temperament keeps me away from extremes at both ends.

My approach to the Khayal is based on the “Shanta” rasa (the tranquil sentiment). My thumree renditions interpret “Shringar” rasa (the romantic sentiment) in an Indian way, without explicit eroticism. To me, Shringara is like dressing up an Indian village belle for her union with the man in her life. The way I dress her up has to be dignified, and yet alluring. It cannot be the way a woman of the streets dresses up to attract customers for the night. I sing only what I can relate to. I do not, for instance, perform Thumree-s in raga-s like Maand, which are from other regions of India. I stick to raga-s like Desh, Tilak Kamod, Telang, Bihag, Khamaj, Kafi, Bhairavi etc. in which the Benares Thumree has been traditionally performed.

I get invitations to perform with “fusion” groups. The idea seems outrageous to me. Can you imagine singing a Chaiti with lyrics like “Chaitra maase bolere koyalia ho Rama, hamare anganva” (translation: In the Chaitra/ spring month, the cuckoo sings in my courtyard) to the accompaniment of Western drums, a guitar and a saxophone? How can I communicate the delicate imagery of spring amidst the infernal noise my accompanists will create? If I try doing this, the gentle cuckoo will abandon my courtyard forever. Spring will cease to be the spring I know. If titillation is what people want, there are enough musicians dishing it out. I can do without the money I would make by joining such bands. If I had been destined to enjoy immense wealth, I would have been born in a millionaire’s household rather than to my parents.

Beyond this, it is all about the sanctity of the relationship with art. As a musician, I must see myself as being in the service of Goddess Saraswati, (the Goddess learning and the fine arts). Every concert is an opportunity to shape my personality to become worthy of this status. I have to achieve, within myself, a serenity which comes from a balanced approach, not merely to every aspect of music, but to every facet of life. I have to be the same person in all my roles – musician, wife, householder, mother – without over-reaching myself in any role, and performing them equally efficiently.

I admit that a significant thumree singer has not emerged for a long time. But, I don’t believe the art is dying. There are several competent Thumree singers around, though some of them are not performing. I have trained some promising vocalists, and I have to believe that a few of them will make the grade in a decade or so. Khayal singers – male as well as female – are showing considerable enthusiasm. Several of them have sought my guidance. There is no dearth of talent or interest amongst the younger musicians. But, if you want me to certify a potential great, I cannot identify anyone. A Thumree rendition has to induce a state of sustained inebriation. For this, the singer has to sacrifice the gratification of intermittent applause. In the present environment, this is the question mark that hangs over the future of the genre.

© Deepak S. Raja 2004
The finest recordings of Giriga Devi have been produced by India Archive Music Ltd. New York. IndiaArcMu@aol.com

Tejendra Majumdar -- “Where we get the most money, we risk indifferent audiences”

Tejendra Majumdar spoke to Deepak Raja on December 21, 2003

I was 9 years old when I was taken to Bahadur Khan Saheb for training. My uncle had been his disciple; so he knew the family. Until then, I had been playing the mandolin. He kept me on tenterhooks for six months before he agreed to teach me. My parents were relieved when he said yes. But, for a nine-year old mandolin player, the transition to the Sarod was not easy. The instrument was heavy, my plectrum strokes were too light to produce the required impact, and my Ustad had a fowl temper.

My training started with raga Yaman. Actually, he taught me Yaman three times – from A to Z each time – during his life. The last was a few months before his demise in 1989. I used to go to him four to five times a week. Twice or thrice during the week after school, and full days over weekends. In those days (1969-70), his fees were Rs. 75 per month. My middle class family could not afford them. So, he agreed to teach me for Rs. 30 a month. After a few years, he stopped accepting even this amount.

He generally took eight to nine months to teach a raga. At other times, he would take one family of raga-s, and take me through all the variants of it within a day. The first time he did this, it was Malhar. He started with Miya-ki Malhar, then Gaud Malhar, then Nat Malhar, then Charju-ki Malhar, then Ramdasi Malhar, and went on until all Malhar variants had been exhausted. By the end of the day, my head was swirling, and I could not sleep that night. The next morning, he asked me how good the learning had been. I had to say it was fine out of fear of upsetting him. But, having said that, I dared not mix up the raga-s ever again. On other occasions, he took up Shuddha Kalyan, followed immediately by allied ragas – Bhoop and Deshkar. Similarly, he taught me Shyam Kalyan along with its near-identical twin, Shuddha Sarang. In 20 years of training with him, I had been taken through the paces with more than 50 ragas.

His method of teaching a raga was to take me through the alap, along with bandish-es of every variety, and their treatment. In each raga, he would teach me vilambit gats, along with the improvisatory movements, then Sitarkhani (medium tempo) gats with their improvisatory movements, then drut (fast tempo) gats with their improvisatory movements. Some ragas were taught with Dhrupad bandish-es, along with the improvisatory movements for Dhrupad. Each category of bandish had a different approach to improvisatory movements.

Over a period, I developed a very intimate relationship with him. He would take me with him whenever he traveled for concerts. In those trips, a got to know many of the greatest maestros of the times, and learnt a lot not only about music, but the etiquette and decorum of the music world. I had been with him for seven years when he decided to hold my “Ganda-bandhan” (ceremonial initiation). Ganda-bandhan signifies the Guru accepting total responsibility for the progress of the disciple. After that ceremony, Bahadur Khansaheb devoted himself even more wholeheartedly to my growth.

My Ustad's three-octave tan-s drove me up the wall
The training I got from Bahadur Khansaheb laid a strong foundation of raga knowledge and the presentation of bandish-es. He was a master of the left hand as well as right hand technique. His alap-s achieved a depth of raga exploration that I have not heard from anyone else. The three-octave tan-s he made me practice in Bihag drove me up the wall for several weeks. The spring in his right hand was incredible – he could make the direction reversal on any string with any combination of power between outward and inward strokes. His inventory of jhala techniques was more sophisticated than the most sophisticated jhala ever played on the Been. He taught me all of them, though I have mastered and normally perform only a small fraction of what I have been taught. While his right hand executed these incredible stroke combinations on the melodic and chikari strings, the left hand used to play the alap.

At that stage in my life, I do not believe I could have received better training on the Sarod than I got from Bahadur Khansaheb. It is unfortunate that he died so young (Age: 60). He was also an unlucky musician for not having got the recognition that he deserved as a Sarod soloist. I feel good, though embarrassed, that my success is reviving public interest in my Ustad’s music.

When he died, I had a real problem. By then, I was already a performing musician; but the learning had to continue. After this quality of training, where could I go? For a while, I studied with Ajoy Sinha Roy, a senior of the Maihar gharana, but more of a scholar than a performing musician. He guided me with great affection, but kept pleading with me to go to Ali Akbar Khansaheb. I was diffident considering that Ali Akbar Khan was so busy and lived abroad. I then went to Annapoorna Devi, the sister of Ali Akbar Khansaheb in the hope of learning from her. She too directed me to her brother, with a letter recommending that he accept me as a disciple.

Know a raga as intimately as your wife
In 1992, when I was on a concert tour of the US, I met Ali Akbar Khansaheb with a letter of introduction from Annapoorna Devi, and he started guiding me. Training with him is sporadic – either when I am in the US or when he is in India. His approach to training is similar to Bahadur Khansaheb’s. Entirely oral transmission. No writing down. He insists that I internalize the guidance like a computer program. At this stage, we are not looking at technique, but the approach to handling a raga, and understanding all its facets. Currently, I am learning Maluha Kedar. It is a small raga. But, with his guidance, I should be able to play it for an hour without repeating a single phrase. He believes that one should get to know a raga as intimately as one knows one’s wife. Just as I can recognize my wife by just a glimpse at her toe-nails, or her finger, a raga should become recognizable by the delivery of just a single swara. When you receive this kind of guidance from a Guru, there is little chance that you can turn out to be a clumsy musician.

It is really tragic that my generation of musicians is not taking raga knowledge seriously. If you don’t care for the infinite melodic potential of a raga, why do you perform classical music? You can perform something else and do equally well, or perhaps even better!

I cannot imagine settling abroad
Over the last three years, I have been doing an average of 40 to 50 concerts a year. Three years ago, I balance was in favour of the US and Europe. Gradually, over the last two years, it has moved towards half abroad and half in India. Although I have performed in most important cities of India, I have yet to perform in a few important Indian centers like Pune. This too is about to happen. My experience tells me that audiences in the US and Europe are, on an average, open minded and serious, while in India the picture is patchy. Where we get the most money in India, we often get indifferent audiences. In the west, the money and audience quality are both more consistent.

I now spend five to six months a year abroad. From every angle, the western market is important for a musician. But, I cannot imagine settling abroad. I feel sorry for those musicians who had the opportunity of settling abroad, did it, and lost touch with India. Yes, they might have survived. But, within a few years, they stopped growing as musicians and also lost their credibility. Unless we interact in a sustained and a serious manner with the Indian music world, we stagnate, and the western audiences will not give us respect unless we also command respect at home.

© Deepak S. Raja, 2003
The finest recordings of Tejendra Majumdar have been produced by India Archive Music , New York.