That voice of silk and flame

Those were the days when Kesarbai Kerkar, Hirabai Barodekar, Gangubai Hangal, Ustad Fayyaz Khan, Pandit Omkarnath Thakur dominated the Hindustani classical music scene in the region. Amir Khan, Bhimsen Joshi, Kumar Gandharva, Mallikarjun Mansur, Kishori Amonkar rode a later wave. It did not even register with us that much the largest number of great classical singers came from the Pune, Hubli, Dharwar, Konkan belt.

The “bandishes” or compositions of the songs were mostly from our region — in Avadhi, Brajbhasha or Bhojpuri. Words like “ambua ki dari pe boley koyalia” (the koel is singing on the mango tree) were typical for rendering a raga like Bageshwari. The princely class were divided into two broad categories. Those with confirmed affiliations with the British gravitated towards polo, cricket, hunting. Others patronised music, poetry, other arts. Nawab Raza Ali Khan of Rampur, for instance, maintained a rich collection of musicians. He was not just a patron but a connoisseur.

Some of us, whose appreciation of music was by sheer exposure not formal training, found some Rampur musicians like Mushtaq Hussain Khan too technical. We preferred the more melodious singers from the Maharashtra belt. The remarkable fact was the enthusiastic acceptance of MS by audiences from a different milieu.

“Natya” sangeet or the music of the Marathi theatre had a great impact on classical singing in Maharashtra. Singers like Sawai Gandharv became legends. The compositions in the genre were in Marathi. Why, then, were the majority of compositions sung by Maharashtrian musicians in Brajbhasha and other folk dialects of the Hindi belt? My guess is that patrons of Hindustani sangeet in the Hubli, Dharwar, Pune, Konkan areas employed many famous “ustads” of Hindustani sangeet who trained the singers I mentioned.

Ustad Abdul Karim Khan was a great guru and an extraordinarily mellifluous singer. A prominent photograph in Gangubai Hangal’s house in Hubli is that of Abdul Karim Khan. Bhimsen Joshi spent years fetching water in earthen pots as part of the chores in the “guru-shishya parampara”. His house in Pune has Abdul Karim Khan’s photograph in his music room. Manjhe Khan Sahib adorned Malikarjun Mansur’s house in Dharwar. His elder brother Ustad Alladiya Khan trained Kesarbai and Mogubai.

The geographical areas where Hindustani and Carnatic sangeet prospered are almost contiguous. Kirana and Jaipur-Atrauli gharanas found roots in Hubli and Dharwar now in Karnataka. Immediately to the south are the areas in Karnataka where the compositions of Purandardasa, the 17th century saint-composer, thrive in Carnatic sangeet.

Further to the south the trinity of composers — Tyagaraja, Muthuswamy Dixitar and Syama Sastri in the 18th-19th centuries — imparted to this system of music an unsurpassed elevation. “Gana-Marga” or salvation through music practised and preached by these saint composers, who miraculously lived in the same period in Tamil Nadu, shapes the structure of MS’s music.

I had the privilege of visiting MS in Chennai. Those were turbulent days in the world of Carnatic sangeet. S. Balachander, the great veena player, had taken up cudgels against Semangudi. The difference of opinion centred around the late Prince of Travancore, Swati Tirunal.

The school of thought led by Semangudi sought to promote Swati Tirunal as a music composer great enough to be bracketed with the trinity of Tyagaraja, Dixitar and Sastri. This, Balachander said, would happen only over his dead body. He ascribed the promotion of Tirunal to “courtly toadism”. Since MS was supremely above all politics, I sought a meeting with her which turned out to be a conversation with her husband, Sadasivan. On the controversy, neither said a word. Sadasivan may have been worldly wise, but MS actually lived and sang in another zone.

MS passed away when politics at the renowned Music Academy in Chennai reached a peak. Even the “season” this year has been interrupted. The “season” must be explained to those who have never experienced it. Nowhere in the world have I seen a month long (December 15-January 15) festival of classical dance and music spread over fifty venues in Chennai with the Music Academy as the hub. During the “season” the South Indian diaspora converged on Chennai as did every dancer and singer worthy of note.

For decades, the man in control of the Academy’s affairs has been T.T. Vasu. Charges of nepotism have been levelled against him. This year one Nalli Kuppuswamy Chettiar brought a stay against Vasu operating the affairs of the Academy during the “season”. So, there is a gaping hole in the “season”: no performances at the Academy — an unprecedented sacrilege.

MS left in good time. On her way, she may well have chanted Tagore’s immortal lines from Gitanjali. ‘‘When thou commandest me to sing, it seems that my heart would break with pride. All that is harsh and dissonant in life melts into one sweet harmony — and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea”.