Plunging into melody's waves
Farida Shaikh loses herself in a study of music
The Music Room, Namita Devidayal, Random House
Namita Devidayal addressed her gentle, nurturing Brahmin music teacher Dhondutai as 'baiji,' whose whisper sounded like, 'You will be my little goddess… my Bhairavi,' an early morning raga, the wife of cosmic dance destroyer Shiva. She is like the moody mythical goddess, sometimes a pining lover, and a seductress---always the mysterious female force which overpowers evil. This work, Devidayal's first, is dedicated to Dhondutai Kulkarni, whose ancestors were from Kolhapur. The music teacher moved to Bombay in 1978-79, lived in a small apartment with Ayi, her mother, in the neighborhood of Kennedy Bridge which was only ten minutes away from Namita's home in Cumballa Hills. Reading this autobiographical reportage, that it 'was a lifetime of learning---and not just of music,' tracing the legacy of the Jaipur Gharana, an intellectual school, and one of the pillars of Indian classical music, is sheer delight. The cover design by Rachana, photo by Ishika represents Dhondutai 50, five feet tall, 'remarkably youthful… attributed to never having married' protégé of the Jaipur Gharana, at a concert. Kesarbai recalls, '… you were in a white silk nine yard sari with a gold border, and wore your hair in a long plait… walked onto the stage with great confidence… started with a perfect sa… you sang raga Bhoop…' Namita, a ten-year old, was brought in touch with this musical heritage by her mother. Both her parents were endowed with musical backgrounds. She pursued classical music for quite many years. Later she graduated from Princeton and now lives in Mumbai. She has written about Bombay, working as a journalist with The Times of India and not as a music teacher--- for the 'deeply ironic' tradition of envied freedom and craving for respectability continues. The guru-shishsho (teacher-disciple) relationship between Kesarbai and the Brahmin's daughter Dhondutai defied the 'labels that had been stuck on by men, by society…' The senior had refused to let herself be recorded, and wanted her music to die with her. She asked Dhondutai to work on stylization and to individualize composition; for those were the distinctions of great performers. Kesarbai was always accompanied by her Muslim sarangi player, Abdul Majid Khan, and the Hindu table player Yeshwant Kerkar who 'did not play with any of her rivals… (This was)…Kesarbai's elaborate copyright protection strategy.' Kesarbai 'was more like a man.' She won the Padma Vibhushan. She had the courage and the confidence to counter Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. In 1960 she told off the Chief Minister of Maharashtra, asking him not to make promises that he would not honour. Her drive to be a great singer in the world was 'not a spiritual quest--- it was driven by vengeance and rooted in unimaginable pain.' Alladiya Khan was born in 1855, whose name means 'given by Allah', so believed by his parents who had already lost several children before he was born. His real name was Ghulam Ahmed; he founded the Jaipur Gharana and in time became a living legend. This 'musical Muslim family' took Dhondutai like an adopted daughter 'who inherited its secrets and treasures.' His brother was Hyder Khan and together they were known as Khan Sahibs. His three sons were Nasiruddin, Badruddin and Shamsuddin, better known as Badeji, Manji and Bhurji. Manji Khan became a great singer. Upon his early death Alladiya Khan said: 'God, today you have taken away not just my son but with him an irreplaceable treasury of music.' It was believed that the goddess had just put one foot outside the gharana, after him the lineage faded away. Three people --- Baba, Dhondutai and Ganpatrao Gurav who played table for Alladiya and now accompanied Dhondutai --- kept the gharana alive. Around 1895 Alladiya Khan had moved to Kolhapur from Bombay. Namita was at Princeton University. She observed that the ritual of touching the feet came naturally to the members of the music world, and her American friends said of her tanpura that it was a 'phallic symbol… and voodoo object.' Dhondutai told her '…our music is too difficult and complex for…experimentation.' She taught her the beautiful Multani composition: Hai re man, kaahe ko soch kare re? (oh restless mind why do you think so much?) Soch kare kachhu ban nahin ave, dheeraj kyon na dhare re? (By thinking or worrying, nothing will change. Instead have faith… and patience). Bhurji Khan had first taught this raga to Dhondutai. At Kolhapur, Baba, Allahdiya Khan's grandson, lived in the ancestral home. He had introduced Dhondutai, his children's music teacher, to Kesarbai. He saw Namita, who presented the raga Bhoop, as a promising artist. And she observes: 'The camaraderie between Baba and Dhondutai went well beyond the fact that they were man and woman. There was love, yes. But it was a love triangle, really between man, woman, and music.' The princely states were the main source of employment for musicians, other vocal and visual artists. Delhi was the centre of patronage on the musical map, consisting of Gwalior, Baroda, Jaipur, Patiala, Mysore and Kolhapur. Shahu Maharaj 'fell in love with Khansahib's music.' The maharaja gave him a house, and his official duty was to perform for him and sing at the old palace temple. Gharana, apart from the literal meaning (ghar, house), is in the musical context a stylistic construct. Gharanas were based on a single personality, usually around his hometown. The Agra gharana centered around court musician Faize Khan. The oldest in the tradition, the Gwaliar gharana, was centered around music loving royalty. Alladiya Khan sang at Jaipur court and became known as the founder of the Jaipur gharana. The specialized styles and compositions were much guarded, like copyrighted software in our times. The Jaipur gharana was regarded as bearing a 'high intellectual weight' of stylistic composition of complex music and ragas. The major change in the gharana tradition of music was the gradual shift from familial ties to knowledge of specific gharana music. Alladiya Khan died in Bombay in 1946, with a pain in his heart: 'his children had not inherited the full worth of his music.' While teaching his student Leelabhai the melancholic afternoon raga Shudh Sarang ,tears streamed down his face. He said: 'My brother Hyder Khan and I sang this together… where did those times go?' Alladiya's funeral was sparsely attended. Like the great saint poet Kabir, Khan sahib died in no man's land. He ate meat but also wore the sacred thread of high caste Hindus. He said his namaz and sang in the temples regularly. His religion was music. The first line of his composition in raga Bhairav about Hindu-Muslim unity read: Allah tu karim rahim, sab tera deval aur masjid ---God, you are great and merciful. All temples and mosques belong to you. It was an artist's plea for brotherhood. Devidayal learnt early, quite unknowingly, the secret two note-taan of the Jaipur gharana from Dhondutai. It was in the Music Room, the title of this, her first book. Namita pledged that she would 'never reveal this to anyone except to a student.' Her vow was her copyright technique for the music that she was taking forward. It was Dhondutai's dream to turn Namita Devidayal into a great singer. However, there was a missing link in the devotion and the passion. Instead the pupil was enamored of the power of music. The favorite ragas of Kesarbhai in the lofty music room and the unconditional love of the music teacher gave her solace and life '…with no connection to the rest of her life.' Incidentally the book has a namesake: The Music Room by William Fiennes, 2009. Namita Devidayal makes acknowledgement of the six books from which she has drawn material for her work. She is grateful to her parents, family and friends for endlessly supporting her endeavor, especially her publisher, editor and agent. This reviewer has enjoyed reading this book. The style of writing is fresh and the content is a balanced combination of facts and fiction.
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