Review: Uma Vasudev, Hariprasad Chaurasia: Romance of the Bamboo Reed (2005)

[Given the latest controversy concerning Hariprasad Chaurasia, I thought it might be a good idea to repost here this review I had written back in 2005.]

Uma Vasudev, Hariprasad Chaurasia: Romance of the Bamboo Reed (Gurgaon: Shubhi Publications, 2005) 350 pages

Review by Abhik Majumdar

(an edited version of this article originally appeared in 'The Book Review', May 2005)

Uma Vasudev’s biography of Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia, the renowned flautist, comes across as a mixed bag. At one level, there is little to distinguish it from most run-of-the-mill hagiographical accounts of musicians and their lives. Other reviewers hold that it reads more like an autobiography. I feel compelled to agree; to my mind it comes across exactly like a ghosted autobiography written for some reason in the third person. And yet the book contains several strongly redeeming features. Hagiographical or not, it is a sensitively rendered portrayal of the maestro’s life. More importantly, it manages to shed light on a crucial period in the history of Hindustani music.

The narrative starts on a rather drab note. It frequently tends towards the overblown and sentimental, which is underscored by the extensive use it makes of the active voice. In an autobiographical account, such a device comes across as perfectly normal. However, in a work rendered from a third-person perspective, it only serves to test our credibility. How, for example, is the author so sure about the exact words young Hariprasad’s father employs when telling him of his mother’s death?

Be that as it may, the maestro’s early life was every bit as eventful as his later years. Born into a thoroughly unmusical family, the son of a renowned wrestler, he sustained his passion under the most harrowing of conditions. His father dreamt of making his son a champion wrestler, and would fly into a rage at any mention of music beyond votive bhajans. A kindly dhrupad singer who lived in the neighbourhood agreed to give him lessons on the sly. Young Hariprasad would leave the house on the pretext of going to the temple, and spend time with his mentor instead. As he grew older, he began to learn typing, and even secured a job as stenographer. This phase of his life ended with his getting radio assignments, and finally a job as staff artist.

The post-independence era marked the end of princely states and the zamindari system, the traditional sources of benefaction for musicians. In their place, four new institutions of patronage began to assume significance, namely the radio (and other government agencies), cinema, the concert circuit and, eventually, record companies. Chaurasia’s career also began from around that time. In successive stages, he drew sustenance from each of them. Through the maestro’s eyes, the text provides us a unique first-hand account of these bodies and their evolution. The first is singled out for especial attention, since the maestro owes considerably to his tenure with All India Radio, initially at Cuttack and then at Bombay. Interestingly, from this point on, even the narrative quality improves perceptibly. One finds a tautness hitherto absent; even the active voice is used in a more restrained manner, and also feels much more appropriate than it did earlier.

It stands to the credit of the author that she handles Chaurasia’s knotty personal life with refreshing candour. While stationed in Cuttack, he met and fell in love with a young singer called Angurbala. At around the same time, his father fixed his marriage without even informing him. Unable to either defy his father or forsake his beloved, he ended up marrying twice, the second one (to Angurbala, renamed Anuradha) admittedly being invalid in the eyes of law. Kamala, the first wife, looked after his father in Allahabad, while Anuradha ended up moving with him to Bombay.

This shift marked another epoch in Chaurasia’s life. His work with the radio continued unabated, but he also began gaining recognition in other circles. He earned frequent concert engagements. Moreover, he even made a name for himself in the film industry as a provider of incidental music. His circle of friends increased; many, like the santoor exponent Shiv Kumar Sharma have remained close to this day. However, professional and financial success spawned in its wake a growing sense of detachment, a feeling that his tutelage was somehow incomplete. He resolved to seek guidance from Annapurna Devi, the reclusive daughter of Baba Allauddin Khan and a musical colossus in her own right. Chaurasia took more than a year to persuade her to accept him as a disciple. He even switched to a left-handed playing style to demonstrate his dedication. But once he succeeded in convincing her, he was made privy to her innermost worlds as very, very few were.

The book attains remarkable heights in documenting Chaurasia’s training under Annapurna Devi. Her peculiar timings (lessons from ten at night to one or two in the morning), volatile temperament, exacting requirements from her students, even her unique teaching methods - it recounts in sensitive detail all that he experienced at first hand, and provides unparalleled insights into the personality of that most enigmatic of musicians. It also sheds light on her son Shubho, who somehow couldn’t live up to his early promise and was destined to die a tragically unfulfilled artist at the age of fifty. Chaurasia and he were of the same age, and inevitably became close friends and confidantes.

This period also witnessed upheavals in the maestro’s personal life. His first wife and her children also moved to Bombay. The potentially catastrophic situation was saved by an almost unbelievable stroke of luck – the two wives warmed up to each other and soon became close friends. Professionally, he began to flower in earnest. Film offers, foreign tours and domestic concert engagements began flooding in. Even record company executives, initially reluctant to venture into flute albums, began to pursue him. He and Shivkumar Sharma teamed up to compose film music with great success. Ultimately, he set up his own gurukul in a Bombay suburb. Gradually, the uncertainty of his early life came to be replaced by a stodgy stability befitting an acclaimed classical musician. Here onwards, the narrative lapses into hagiography. It does little more than recount the maestro’s successful career and family life exclusively from his point of view. One chapter is devoted to his students and how they have fared in the professional circuit. Another discusses for some obscure reason his prominent women admirers and his relations with them – in my opinion, completely superfluous!

In general, I feel where the book really succeeds is in its treatment of the maestro’s interchanges with the musical world. Through its portrayal of radio-station politics, Annapurna Devi’s warm-hearted eccentricities, record executives’ misgivings about classical albums, the venerable flautist Pannalal Ghosh’s reluctance to teach and so on, it documents vital chunks of the post-independence history of classical music. When it comes to the man himself, it does not tell us anything more than what he himself wishes to reveal. (This, of course, contributes to the book’s strongly autobiographical flavour.)

Even regarding Chaurasia’s musical innovations, the narrative fails to satisfy. For example, it recounts how he derived his technique from the tantrakari ang, or the performative idiom associated with stringed instruments. Special reference was made of the jhala movement. Now, jhala as played on stringed instruments makes extensive use of the chikari or drone strings. This is naturally not possible on the flute. Chaurasia’s technique actually resembles that employed by dhrupad singers, which consists of individual notes produced in very quick succession three or four times. More crucially, the narrative altogether leaves out how he adapted to the flute the gat-toda form, which involves systematic Raga-expansion on the basis of compositions and note-patterns set to rhythm-cycles. This comprises the most significant departure from the gayaki-ang or vocal-idiom so far followed by flautists. Consequently, its omission becomes all the more inexplicable.

However, the positive features of the book are so compelling that these lacunae can be ignored to a decent extent. In conclusion, therefore, this book may be recommended to laypersons and scholars alike, with the caveat that the insights it provides into 20th century developments in music, rather than the main narrative about the man himself, are what really make it worthwhile.

Read more...

What's with this Kolaveri about John Doe Injunctions?

What's with this Kolaveri about John Doe Injunctions?

- Abhik Majumdar

[This is a revised version of an article originally written for the Down to Earth website. While it may not pertain specifically to Shastriya Sangeet, I felt that the issues that it does address, viz. copyright and legal remedies against piracy, are tangibly enough related to the theme of this blog to merit this article's inclusion.]

On 29 March 2012, at the instance of a firm called Copyright Labs, the Madras High Court issued an injunction intended to prevent the illegal copying and distribution of the film "3", perhaps best known for it song "Why this kolaveri (killer rage)".  Those interested may read the order for themselves, (courtesy of the BGR blog); as injunctions go it was certainly a most unusual one. It was ex parte in nature, that is, it has been issued by hearing only one side. Moreover, it was in the nature of a "John Doe injunction", that is, it applied to any and all persons, even unknown ones. The plaintiffs used this feature to persuade ISPs to altogether block access to both P2P sites and video sharing sites like Vimeo and Dailymotion, regardless of whether or not they actually contained or gave access to the concerned material. Predictably, this caused outrage and confusion in equal measure. Even to someone like me who can claim some connection with the law for the last seventeen years, the incident did not make sense. How could an ex parte John Doe injunction of such sweeping ambit be ever contemplated? And how can an injunction to prevent piracy apply to ISPs and video sharing sites anyway?

To understand the facts better, perhaps the quickest strategy is to fall back on beer, the law student's time-tested analytical tool. Consider a situation (needless to say, completely hypothetical), where United Breweries discovers some enthusiasts brewing, on a limited scale, a beer near-identical to Kingfisher Ultra. Its purveyors have no intention of passing it off as genuine KF. Neither is this faux KF sold or transacted for material gain, but only "shared" amongst its (re)creators. At the same time, the purveyors are open about their product's resemblance to the genuine KF, and indeed their declared intention has been to recreate its taste and colour. Over time this community of enthusiasts starts cutting into UB's revenue, or at least UB claims so. The company tries to approach law courts, but it turns out  that the places where the sharing takes place lies beyond the the courts' jurisdiction. UB then takes out a court order forbidding anyone to help these exchanges. 'Anyone' means literally just about anybody. It includes not only sharing venues, but also certain clubs or societies where microbrewery enthusiasts gather to discuss and sample (not consume) each other's products. Since these sampling clubs also lie outside the court's jurisdiction, the injunction does not help UB much. Now what does it do? It goes and informs bus and taxi companies that the terms of the court order are so wide as to cover them also. Hence they are prohibited from carrying passengers to the sharing venues and sampling clubs. This prohibition extends even to passengers who have no interest in KF, but want to go to a sampling club to taste brews that have nothing at all to do with UB.

The natural response to this admittedly absurd scenario is that beer (and likewise chocolate, toothpaste or shoe polish) are inherently different from films or audio recordings. Replicating beer entails a process not only skilful but also cumbersome and expensive, which tends to restrict such not-for-profit endeavours to "small beer", literally. This is one major flaw in our above example: it is very difficult to sustain volumes large enough to dent UB's profit margins unless one resorts to outright fakery and passing off. In contrast, films can be easily copied and distributed over the internet at little to no cost.

But should this difference alone justify such sweeping injunctions and render plausible in respect of films what we just acknowledged as absurd in the case of beer? In other words, can certain procedures otherwise uncalled for be justified merely because the subject matter concerns intellectual property? This means the matter pertains not so much to copyright as it does to civil procedure and how it is to be applied to enforce rights deriving from intellectual property laws. This is a vast issue, well beyond the scope of this article.  Here I shall only raise a few points that I consider germane.

Protecting intellectual property, and particularly copyrights, presents an unprecedented challenge to legal systems the world over. Advances in digital technology has made it possible to copy and distribute over the internet music recordings, films and even books with unprecedented speeds and reach. Despite many efforts, no satisfactory legal response has been devised so far. "Satisfactory" is a loaded term, so it is perhaps a good idea to specify what exactly I mean by it. First, it must bear strong connections with the idea of efficiency, that is, securing the objective with minimal wasted effort and "collateral damage". The last is particularly significant. Applied to the present context, it means simply that the measure must (a) be effective in restricting piracy, and (b) cannot be so broad in its ambit as to encroach upon individuals' legimitate interests. This includes the various fair use rights recognised under S. 52 of the Copyright Act; the right to access on Vimeo and Dailymotion videos that have been legally uploaded there; and even the right to distribute over BitTorrent material whose copyright status is not in dispute (I myself have used BitTorrent on several occasions to download software like Ubuntu Linux). Which means that expressed in simple terms, an effective remedy must also incorporate elements of balance - a balance between various differing, and at times mutually inconsistent, individual and social interests.

In this light, let us examine the nature of the present injunction. First, it was ex parte in character. Since such orders override a fundamental principle of natural justice that all parties should be given a fair hearing, they are to be issued with much restraint, and only in exceptional situations (such as when the other party persistently fails to appear, or when any delay will lead to significant injustice).

Secondly, the only specific parties the order names (at p. 3-4) are some fifteen India-based ISPs, whom it proceeds to restrain "from in any manner infringing the applicant's copyright in the cinematographic film/motion picture '3' . . .." No mention is made of any P2P or even video sharing sites, whose direct involvement in infringing the plaintiffs' copyright is much more feasible and also likelier. As a Medianama report correctly points out, ISPs are only intermediaries, and cannot by themselves infringe an copyrights. (It also says the order makes ISPs responsible for infringing copyright. Admittedly it does refer to certain other suit documents which are not in my possession right now, and hence whose content cannot be verified. However, to my mind there is nothing in the order at least that holds ISPs responsible for copyright infringement. It is as absurd as holding taxi drivers responsible for infringing UB's intellectual property merely by driving passengers to beer sharing venues.)

But it is the third characteristic of the order that makes it so remarkable. Apart from the ISPs mentioned, it specifies five other parties all denoted by the fictitious name "Ashok Kumar", and then also "other unknown persons", against whom the injunction applies. In many legal systems, particularly western ones, this is known as a "John Doe" order. Its use in India is rare. Even in the west it remains something of a novelty, but its use there is certainly more frequent than in India. As a result some jurisprudence has developed around around it, mainly in the nature of safeguards preventing it from arbitrary application. The question that arises naturally here how the present injunction fares when evaluated against these safeguards.

The most frequent use of the John Doe concept is not really relevant to us. It is when fictitious names like John Doe or Jane Roe are used to mask the identity of parties who cannot be named for concerns of privacy or other legal factors: examples include victims of rape or other sexual offences, parties who are underage and so on. More applicable to our case are instances when an injunction or some other relief is sought in regard to a person or persons unknown. This is gaining popularity internationally in intellectual property cases. An interesting example concerns Harry Potter books. The release of each volume in the series was greated with much public frenzy and, inevitably, media hype. This resulted in at least two separate cases of pre-publication copies being stolen with the intention of leaking to the tabloid press. On both occasions, an injunction was issued prohibiting person or persons unknown from "disclosing any information concerning the book or dealing in any way with any copies of the book or disclosing any part of any copies they might have to any third parties . . .." The first time it happened, before the launch of "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" (volume 5), the injunction pertained specifically to the unidentified individuals who had offered the illicit copy to the Sun, the Daily Mail and the Daily Mirror. When it happened again with the next volume "Half-Blood Prince", the resultant injunction covered "any person or persons who have or have had physical possession of a copy  . . . or any part thereof without the consent of the claimants." What is significant here is that such injunctions have always been issued with a great deal of caution. Even the second Potter injunction was very specific in its application (i.e. the content of "Half-Blood Prince"); entailed a clearly defined  timeframe (from 3 June 2005, when the threat of leakage was detected, till 12.01 AM on 16 July, when the book was released); and pertained to individuals, albeit unknown, whose actions amounted to a direct and tangible copyright breach.

Similarly, take John Doe subpoenas popular in US, which are designed to compel disclosure of parties' identities, and are popular in cases of online defamation as well as copyright infringement. Since the net provides considerable scope for anonymous libel, obtaining the perpetrator's identity is usually a complicated process that involves first securing a court order (specifically, a subpoena) directing the hosting website to disclose the IP address from which the defamatory statement was made, and then securing another order this time directing the ISP that owns the address to reveal which account used that address at the time the statement was made.

This process is not only cumbersome, but also potentially infringes the privacy of the unnamed person. Consequently, courts have always been careful about issuing such subpoenas, and in various judgments formulated different tests and criteria to ascertain if a subpoena is appropriate. In Sony Music Entertainment Inc. v. Does 1-40 (326 F. Supp. 2d 556 (2004)), which in fact concerned copyright infringement through p2p networks, a New York district court held that a subpoena to disclose the identity of the file-sharers can be issued only if a prima facie case is made out against specific persons, no other means of obtaining their identity is possible and so on. This apporoach was followed in Doe v. Cahill (884 A.2d 451 (2005)), a Delaware Supreme Court concerning online defamation. Here the court ruled that no subpoena may be issued unless the plaintiff first demonstrates that the impugned comments can be "capable of a defamatory meaning". Subsequent cases have held that even after this prima facie test is satisfied, the plaintiff's interests must be balanced with those of the anonymous defendant. In Mobilisa, Inc. v. Doe (170 P. 3d 712 (2007)), the Arizona Appellate court followed Cahill and the older New Jersey decision of Dendrite International v. Doe No. 3 (A-2774-00T3 (2001)) to conclude that that even after the plaintiff establishes a prima facie case, a further set of five criteria must be fulfilled. For example, the plaintiff must make reasonable efforts to inform the anonymous party that a request to disclose anonymity exists; the intimation must be made through the same medium as the statement imputed to be defamatory, and so on.

All this serves to illustrate one crucial point: In jurisdictions where the law of copyright is much more matured as compared to India, John Doe injunctions are issued very judiciously, and by balancing the interests of all parties concerned - even the anonymous ones. Moreover, in most of the cases we saw, John Doe injunctions are issued subsequent to the commission of a legal wrong, not to pre-emptively restrain persons from committing them. In exceptions to this (such as the Harry Potter case), the terms of the injunction are tightly defined. These characteristics do not hold true for India. Once earlier also, the Delhi High Court had issued a similar John Doe injunction blocking the illegal distribution of the Reliance Big Pictures' film Singham before its official release (a copy of the order is available here). Since the injunction was not targetted at any specific individual, Reliance interpreted it to mean it could serve notices to anyone it wanted. So it went about serving cease and desist notices on both ISPs and torrent sites directly. The latter strategy did not work, since most of them lay outside the jurisdiction of Indian courts. The owner of BitSnoop, for example, made it clear that he had every intention to ignore the notice. Hence, presumably, when Copyright Labs decided to obtain a John Doe injunction, it made specific mention only of ISPs, who at worst can only aid the infringement of copyrighted materials by allowing subscribers to access them.

To conclude, let us revert to the question posed much earlier: can certain procedures otherwise uncalled for be justified merely because the subject matter concerns intellectual property? While it is manifest that the differences between beer and cinema call for dissimilar treatment, our above exegesis makes it equally clear that regardless of the nature of the subject, a balance must be maintained between different legitimate interests. Harish Ram, CEO of Copyright Labs, has claimed that ISPs had misinterpreted the order, and that the Labs' intention was only to block specific URLs. This explanation does not hold water. The ISPs acted not directly on the court order, but on the legal notice based on it that the Labs had sent them. It was therefore incumbent on the latter to be clear about what they were seeking.

Then again, perhaps questions like what the notice actually contained and whether or not the misunderstanding on the part of the ISPs was caused by ambiguities in the legal notice, do not really matter. Even if the wording of the notice contains no shortcomings, one grave issue still remains. It is respectfully submitted that by granting injunctions of such width, the Delhi and Madras High Courts have not taken due regard of this balance. To the extent that they have granted to the plaintiffs what amounts to a carte blanche to send cease and desist notices to anyone they fancy.  A strategy that upholds one interest to the exclusion of others is necessarily flawed. And that is why, given the way in which sites were blocked, the Kolaveri generated by the entire episode was perhaps inevitable.

Read more...

Concerning Record Labels, Big and Small

Mooching around in music shops is nowhere as much fun as it once was. For one, they have become very noisy places. For another, the old culture of choosing several records and asking them to play each one a bit before making one's final selection, or even walking away, has completely disappeared. Back in my college days, HMV House on Brigade Road, Bangalore had a separate room for classical music where people could listen to their selections in relative quietude before making their purchases. Today, if you request the sales personnel to play a recording before you've paid for it, they react like you're asking to defile its chastity or something.

What hurts even more is the jaded Hindustani music selections shops invariably seem to have on offer these days. Recordings of the great masters are invariably stuff ripped off a highly restricted set of vinyl releases and then recycled and repackaged ad nauseam. One company's marketing team has now started re-releasing old tracks in CDs painted black to resemble their long-playing progenitors. I suppose this '60s-retro look-'n'-feel in vogue now is a natural progression of the "ethnic chic" marketing ethos that dominated the classical music world in the '80s and '90s - remember those "Morning Raagaas" and "Evening Raagaas" [sic] compliations? New releases, on the other hand, are simply unappetising - more than anything else a reflection of the stranglehold star progeny and gimmick-artistes have over the music scene generally. And the prices! With file-sharing so widespread these days, I simply cannot understand why record labels still think selling at 300 to 500 Rupees something any enterprising enthusiast can download for free is a good idea. Or is it that they have given up on classical music piracy and decided bilking tourists and other narks makes for a more efficient business model?

Fortunately, not every company feels necessary to abase itself to this extent. I discovered this the other day at the Begumpet, Hyderabad Landmark outlet. To give them their due,  the Landmark people do strive for a more meaningful balance between saleable glitz and the stuff people like me want to hear. Unfortunately this effort does not quite come off, due mainly to the dearth of interesting recordings available. So I was less than enthusiastic about spending some two hours there, which I had to do because the wife and I had volunteered to take some friends from Bangladesh shopping. The book section yielded a few interesting finds, but nothing in the must-buy-right-now-come-what-may class. So I gravitated towards the music section eventually, and with no real expectations of finding anything of much interest.

My initial desultory survey seemed to confirm this pessimism, when I came across this bunch of CDs tucked away in a corner. It was easy to see why they hadn't been given much prominence; the surrounding honk and glamour made their cheap production values look even more shabby. They didn't aspire to jewel boxes, merely stiff paper envelopes containing disks sheathed in clear polythene packets. In fact, they weren't even CDs in the proper sense, as I found once I got back home. But for thirty Rupees a disk, and of music of this quality, I'd cheerfully forgo the bells and whistles.

The Lahari label is pretty obscure even in its hometown Bangalore, but I had encountered it once earlier. Back in 1994 I had bought two cassettes of Basavaraj Rajguru, one featuring Shuddha Sarang and Maru Bihag, and the other Komal Rishab Asuvari [sic], Nayyaki [sic] Kanada and a Khamaz [sic] tumri [sic]. The abysmal production values extended to other areas too, with more serious consequences. The cheapo tape stock they used began to give out within a short time, and ultimately became unplayable altogether. All these years I had been looking for replacements, with little success. So I was nothing less than delighted to discover they have now been reissued as CDs and, what's more, priced at thirty Rupees the same as the rest. Then there was a gorgeous Bilaskhani Todi and Kalavati by Parameshwar Hegde. I have long held the belief he's one of India's most underrated vocalists today, and this release merely reinforces my opinion. The other vocal stuff on offer wasn't so interesting; mostly second-string vocalists from Dharwad and Vinayak Torvi acolytes. The instrumental section also contained a big surprise: three releases, no less, by the Harmonium wizard Rambhau Bijapure. I confess I'm not a big fan of Harmonium solos, but the one CD I've listened to so far (Nat Bhairav and Sur Malhar) was a genuine pleasure, as were the Parameshwar Hegde and the two Basavarajes. They all deserve detailed exegeses, and I intend to review them individually as and when time permits. For now, let me venture a few comments on the enterprise in general.

Pricing CDs so low is always a good idea. It contributes immensely to the propagation of music, especially the high-quality music their lineup boasts. In the bargain it also serves as a more ethical alternative to piracy. But if you are really serious about all this, not to mention about selling your products, the least you can do is provide proper information about your range of releases? I'd say this problem is endemic across Indian labels. The last time HMV (as it then was) came up with a really well-produced catalogue was back in 1982. The present Saregama website is a marvel of ambiguity. Others like  Music Today's site are not particularly better. Lahari trumps them all; it eschews a web presence altogether! Forget about its own website, even the email address printed on the CD envelopes belongs to the vsnl.com domain. As a result, nobody's quite sure of what they have on offer. My second gripe is with availability and distribution. In the past, small labels found it almost impossible to have their releases marketed across record stores. Today, record stores, and also big publishers and distribution networks, are themselves facing a fadeout. Online distribution as pioneered in India by the likes of Flipkart is a huge game-changer, should I say a game-leveller. All of a sudden, marketing clout and distribution infrastructure have ceased to matter. The problem is, companies like Lahari don't see it that way. Despite several searches I could not find out if any online retailer, Flipkart or otherwise, stocks their releases. As it is, their presence in chains like Westside is marginal. And lastly, on an unrelated note, how about improving production quality a little? In point of fact, the releases are not even CDs in the proper sense, but merely CD-Rs whose useful life is limited by the quality of the dyes used in their production. The Basavaraja release cover designs border on the grotesque: one of them features a colour photograph of the maestro, with a kind of halo surrounding his head, set off against a background of purple, blue and magenta plasmae. The track listings are spelled even more uh, radically than they were in the cassette releases: Volume Two now features (1) Komal Rishabh - Raag: Asuvari; (2) Kamaaz Rishabh - Raag: Tumri; and (3) Nayyaki - Raag: Kannada. Worse, the track order seems to have scrambled itself in the CD - the Nayyaki is labelled Track 1, followed by the Tumri and then Asuwari. The Rambhau releases are much better produced - cleaner design, properly written track listings, even a brief biographical passage included on the reverse side.

To conclude, what is the point of this diatribe? It is merely that companies like Lahari can achieve a lot. They have some very interesting recordings on offer (like I said, more on them later). They also have a ready market, comprising serious listeners. And today, online shopping has made redundant a lot of marketing and distribution nonsense. In short, the time is ripe for smaller players to step in and supply serious music at affordable prices, something big labels have conspicuously avoided so far.

Well, not exactly. The times, they do seem to be a-changin' after all. Flipkart's come out with its own digital music store, apparently undertaken in collaboration with the biggies. Individual tracks sell for between Rupees six and fifteen, full albums for less than a hundred, usually around fifty to seventy. Take this Gajananrao Joshi CD I spotted at Landmark, priced at Rs. 295 which I thought was way too much. Flipkart offers the entire album in the form of 320 kbps mp3 downloads, at a total cost of Rs. 69. So all this while we've been paying Rs. 295-69 = 226 for the CD media, the jewel case, inlay cards, distribution, shelf space at the retailers and other essential if somewhat peripheral expenses. This is outrageous even by modern marketing standards - imagine McDonalds charging Rs. 69 for a hamburger, and Rs. 295 for the same thing with a coke and fries thrown in?

So this digital music store's a worthwhile idea after all, right? Actually, no. And for a reason we ought to have guessed. If the biggies are involved, can slapdash production values be far behind? Track listings, track lengths, album details and other metadata are provided so chaotically it gets difficult to ascertain just what you're buying, particularly whether you'll end up purchasing duplicates of what you already have. We clearly have a long, long way to go.

Read more...

Meeting Bhimsen Joshi - III

[Continued from Part II]

The next morning Mr. Mishra and I set off for the Maurya Sheraton, where Panditji was dossed up. The receptionist first refused to give us his room number (citing security reasons) and then, when we explained we had an appointment, refused to let us enter because there was a do-not-disturb sign on his door. We were about to leave in dejection, when I spotted Pt. Ulhas Kashalkar entering the hotel, accompanied by Sh. Madhup Mudgal. I naturally rushed to touch his feet. He recognised Mr. Mishra and asked him if he could help. Made abreast of the situation, he promptly invited us to his room. So the four of us, Mr. Mishra and MM on the two armchairs, me on the chair by the desk, and UK on the bed, chatted on for the better part of an hour.

[Note: For the sake of convenience, and especially as the post features several musicians worthy of the accolade 'Panditji', I shall at times make use of the South-Indian practice of referring to musicians by their initials. There is naturally no question of any disrespect meant by this; I sincerely hope none is taken either.]

By this time I had host hope of getting it autographed by BSJ, so I requested UK to sign it instead. He initially demurred, saying he couldn't sign it before Bhimsenji. I mollified him by saying if I got to meet him in the evening (there was a chance left) I'd get another copy for him to sign. He then cheerfully scrawled his name on the flyleaf, and so did MM.

At this point both MM and UK decided to meet BSJ, so we all pushed off to his room. Luckily the sign had been removed, so we went in. A few more people were present. Panditji chatted for fifteen minutes, then excused himself, saying he was tired. I went to his son and reminded him of his promised. He first asked me to come at four o'clock and then, when I said I wouldn't be able to, sugested I leave it be. My face dropped, so he took pity on me and asked me to request the big man himself. Panditji's response was, "My hands are very weak, so I can only promise to try. Let's have a go!" And he did sign!

I then turned to UK and then said I'd brought a camera but didn't have the nerve to take pics as Panditji was tired. He said no no, no problem at all, come along. So I made him stand next to Panditji and took a snap of them together. Promptly, Mr. Mishra, MM and some of the other people present there came up and requested snaps. Someone took pity on me and snapped one of mine with BSJ. We left after that. What a day!

Read more...

Meeting Bhimsen Joshi - II

[Continued from Part I]

The recital, when it began, bore all the signs of a full-scale disaster. Panditji took his time to find his sur. When he began, his voice was so hoarse and shaky one couldn't discern any notes at all. I'm an avid fan of Panditji's, but have never really warmed to his interpretation of certain Ragas like Shuddha Kalyan. And I was dreading he'd present just that. Certainly, the singing gave us no clue. For the first three minutes I couldn't make out anything of the raga, except that the rishabha seemed a bit flat for Kalyan. After a while, the contours of Pooriya began to emerge. Then without warning, he paused abruptly on the pancham, and began "aaj so bana" in Pooriya Kalyan. All was revealed!

It took him about ten minutes to fully warm up. But once he did he was roaring like a lion just the way he used to twenty years ago. Vintage Bhimsen every inch. His heavy gamak taans were right there in place, as were all his old tricks, pukars, surprisingly accurate laykari (except for a few miscueings), voice modulations etc. But what really moved all of us in the audience was that he took just as much pleasure in his singing as he did in his prime.

His age showed only rarely, such as when he mistimed the 'sam' a couple of times. Anand Gopal Bandyopadhyaya on the tabla was very understanding, and skillfully covered up such rare lapses.

The Khayal was followed by a Dadra in Mishra Gara, and then "Jo Bhaje Hari Ko Sada" in Bhairavi. I say 'Followed', because it was almost the literal truth. He would finish one item, take exactly one long breath, a pause of about fifteen seconds, and proceed to the next one. In a man one-third his age, such a commanding display would have been commendable. At his age and health it was nothing short of a tour de force.

[Continued in Part III]

Read more...

Meeting Bhimsen Joshi - I

This post has a long, varied history. It began life as an e-mail to a friend. Then, at his suggestion, I posted it to RMIC. Then years later, I was involved with setting up two separate blogs on music. One was of course this one, envisaged as a collective effort. The other was a solo deal called "Aavartan". I had originally posted it in the latter. But that venture turned out to be a bit of a non-starter. So I suppose reposting the article here is only a natural thing to do.

First, some mild self-aggrandisement. My biography of Pt. Bhimsen Joshi, published by Rupa & Co, came out round the beginning of 2004. The reason I mention it is that it has everything to do with the events narrated below. In the course of writing it, I had interviewed Mr. Amar Mishra (who incidentally passed away a couple of months ago). He was instrumental in setting up the ITC Sangeet Research Academy, and was also a close personal friend of Panditji. When I heard that Bhimsen was scheduled to sing at the ITC Sammelan in New Delhi this year, I contacted Mr. Mishra to find out if I could get to meet him.

Anyway, on the day of the recital, he and I made our way to the green room. Panditji arrived a few minutes later, a frail, shrivelled man with a woollen cap on his head and an air of extreme dejection and bewilderment about him. He was shunted onto a wheelchair and pushed into the green room. Mr. Mishra was busy talking to his other acquaintances, so I went inside, introduced myself to Sh. Srinivas Joshi, Panditji's son, and showed him a copy of the book. His interest grew when he saw the Rupa label, then he passed it on to his father. I asked him if Panditji could autograph my copy, but he declined, saying his father suffered from weakness in the limbs.

That is when Mr. Mishra came in, and introduced me to Panditji. The conversation turned back to the book for a little while. As we were taking our leave, I once again asked Srinivasji if an autograph was absloutely out of the question. He told me to accompany Mr. Mishra the next day (he'd been given an appointment earlier), because if Panditji signed one autograph, others would immediately pile on.

[Continued in Part II]

Read more...

DSS Blog Revived!

We're back! For upwards of six months this blog was shamefully neglected as we grappled with professional and other more urgent concerns. This neglect was especially criminal because of the excellent initial response it had elicited (I suspect this enthusiasm was reflective not so much of the quality of our output - Kalyanda's posts excluded! - as of a deeply felt need for this sort of an endeavour). Hopefully all that will change, and we will upload frequently and regularly just as we did six months ago. Already we have several interesting articles in the pipeline. But more on that later.

One cause of this hiatus was purely technical in nature. The blog desperately needed a redesign. And when I say 'needed' I mean just that. Aesthetics apart, certain key features had stopped functioning altogether, which made the blog much more difficult to read. In particular, we had used a Javascript-based template hack from Hackosphere for our expandibility feature. This is the feature that initially displays only a paragraph or two of each post, and expands to show the complete post when a link is clicked. Very useful, results in compact, organised homepages, but one day I noticed the damn posts just wouldn't expand! And just DSS's, but also of all the other blogs where I had added this tweak.

It transpires that the hack was functionally dependent on some code uploaded in the developer's website, which had got hacked in the interim. Though Hackosphere does offer a workaround, I felt getting rid of the javascript would be perferable. Fortunately, Beautiful Beta offers just that, i.e. a CSS-based expandibility tweak. But then again, removing the old script and then adding the new was too much trouble. Much simpler to start from scratch.

Secondly, the old design was dated. At 800 pixels it was wider than most Blogger default templates. But even then it did not look so good, especially at today's resolutions. Aesthetically also, the design needed loads of reworking. And lastly, there was the question of the menubar. Beautiful Beta offers an elegant method for adding a menubar just above the posts. While adding this to my food blog, I managed to modify it so that it was integrated with the masthead. Of course, adding this feature to the DSS blog made sense. So all these factors combined meant a comprehensive redesign, aesthetic as well as technical.

Starting from scratch might have been the obvious solution, but it called for considerable investments of time and effort. And yet without this redesign there was no point adding new posts, given the blog's dysfunctional features. Which is why we kept dithering over the issue. Fortunately, when I did start work, there were enough people to chip in. Arnab did the photography. Arijit Mahalanabis and Angshuman Das gave very useful suggestions.

So finally here it is - the revamped blog. Bells and whistles working once again and, I feel, better looking too in the bargain. In fact, thanks to the new CSS-based expandibility and especially the menubar, it looks and functions like a Wordpress blog more than anything else! And yet it bears its own fully customised look, feel and identity, which we cannot have with Wordpress.

Incidentally, that is why my vote in the Blogger v. Wordpress debate goes to the first. Agreed, Blogger default templates are primitive, ugly, and offer only a fraction of Wordpress's features. On the other hand, it does offer fully customisable templates. Which means you can add third-party hacks and tweaks, and thereby get almost all the features that make Wordpress so great. Moreover and most importantly, since Blogger templates are fully customisable, you can craft a unique look and feel for your blog. Wordpress permits template hacks only for paid accounts, so in the free version you are stuck with default templates. I know it's the fashion for computer-geeks to ridicule Blogger's crude features and looks in comparison to Wordpress's. But to my mind at least, it is the precise opposites that rings more true. I tend to think of Wordpress as analogous to Windows: easier to use and snazzier looking off the shelf, but offering only limited customisability. You want more tweaks, you pay for it. On the other hands, Blogger reminds me of a Linux distro. Initially much less user-friendly, but in fact more flexible, and thus much more rewarding to the experienced user.

Of course, these tech issues are beside the point. What really matters is that the redesign has restored the blog's functionality. All the tweaks work just fine. And we have also added a few new features, such as the menubar and the contents page (still being worked on), which makes navigation easier. So now that we have restored and further enhanced the blog's readability, adding new posts has become worthwhile again. And there are several new posts in the pipeline. Vivekanand, regular contributor to the DSS Orkut comm and now RMIC as well, has promised a write-up about Tanpura training. I myself plan to write rejoinders to several DSS and RMIC debates, also post here stuff originally written a long time ago for other fora. The best news: I believe Kalyanda's writing down his recollections of Ali Akbar Khan. I am not sure if it is true, or whether it will be completed soon, or whether once it's completed he will consent to us publishing it here. At this stage we can only wait and hope. For sure, this is something to look forward to!

Read more...

Amir Khusro and Indian Classical Music - III

[Continued from Part II]

7. Khayal and Tarana

The word ‘khayal’ literally means ‘thought’ or ‘imagination’. Ejaz-e-Khusravi contains several references to this term. However, little inference can be made as to how such Khayals were performed in that era. Certainly, it cannot bear a close resemblance to today’s iteration. The noted Persian scholar Shahab Sarmadee has put forward the conjecture that Khusro used the term in a more general sense, that is to say, in its literal meaning rather than as a reference to a musical form. (quoted in Miner 1993: 19) Others have speculated that in Khusro’s time Khayals and Qawwalis used to be sung together, and only later did Khayals acquire the status of classical music.

Nevertheless, several musicians sing Khayal compositions whose words as well as music they attribute to Khusro. A prominent example is 'Piya Navelara Paya', a composition in Raga Poorvi.

Amir Khusro’s putative associations with the Tarana run much deeper. One of the most persistent legends of Hindustani music relates to the encounter between Amir Khusro, who was then associated with the court of emperor Allauddin Khilji, and Gopal Nayak, court-musician to the king of Devagiri. Allauddin commanded Gopal Nayak to present the Raga Kadambak for six evenings running. During the entire performance, Khusro lay concealed under the emperor’s throne, and stealthily absorbed all that the Nayak had sung. On the seventh day, he astonished everyone present in the court by reproducing all that Gopal Nayak had presented. However, since he couldn’t follow the Nayak’s language, he substituted the text of the compositions with meaningless syllables. And that is how the Tarana was born! (Willard 1834: 121)

Modern scholars, however, are quick to dismiss this story as an urban legend. One reason for this is that the Raga Kadambak is such a complex composition that assimilating its intricacies merely by listening is virtually impossible. (Mishra 1990: 16-17) At the same time, especially given the significance of such apparently meaningless syllables to Sufi practices, and given also the structure of the Qaul and the Qalbana, we may safely contend that Khusro did indeed play a significant role in the ultimate emergence of the Tarana as we know it.

8. Khusro's Influence on Contemporary Musicians

The last eight hundred years have done much to erode Amir Khusro’s contributions to music. This is so much so that today we have no way of distinguishing his own work from later interpolations in his name. Hence, unlike in the field of literature, for instance, as a musician Khusro continues to remain an indistinct, even legendary figure.

Nevertheless, throughout these years, he has been a source of inspiration to musicians. Many have attributed their own creations to him. Some have sought to revive obscure Ragas traditionally ascribed to him. Then again, the manner in which people have sought to incorporate his poetry into contemporary musical forms makes for a fascinating study.

The composition Hazrat Khwaja Sang Kheliye Dhamaal is a classic example. For centuries, Qawwali and Khayal exponents have presented this in their own respective styles. Traditionally, it is associated with Raga Bahar.

Rubaaidar Taranas are a special type of Tarana, where the second stanza incorporates a Persian couplet or quatrain instead of the usual mystical syllables. Some feature a few lines of Urdu, Hindi or even Sanskrit. Many musicians of the present era, notably Ustad Amir Khan, have used Khusro’s Persian poetry for their Rubaaidar Taranas.

Consider the Ghazal ‘Khabaram Raseeda Imshab, Ke Nigaar Khwaahi Aamad’. Within it, we find this quatrain:

Ba labam raseeda jaanam / Tu biya ke zinda maanam
Pas azaan ke man na maanam / Ba chekaar khwaahi aamad

(My life hangs on my lips, come so that I may live again
For if you arrive after I am dead, your coming shall be pointless.)

Several clips exist of this composition presented as a Qawwali. First, a rendition by Javed Taufiq Niazi Qawwal, who presents it set to Raga Bageshree (the quatrain occurs at around 4.15).
- Javed Taufiq Niazi: Khabaram Raseeda Imshab

Similarly, Ghouse Muhammad Nasir of Pakistan, who derives his musical lineage from the Atrauli Gharana of Alladiya Khan (quatrain at 5.48).
- Ghouse Muhammad Nasir: Khabaram Raseeda Imshab

Ghazal singers, now. First, the great Mehdi Hassan (quatrain: 5.01):
- Mehdi Hassan: Khabaram Raseeda Imshab

The much younger Massoud Wafa and Zaaher Hovaydaa present the same composition in a contemporary, upbeat style (strangely, both seem to have omitted the quatrain):
- Massoud Wafa: Khabaram Raseeda Imshab
- Zaaher Hovaydaa: Khabaram Raseeda Imshab

We have already seen how Ustad Amir Khan incorporated the quatrain within his own Tarana in Raga Darbari. The following is a link to the rest of his rendition:
- Amir Khan: Darbari (contd.)

Others have sung this composition. Here we have Ustad Mohammad Hussain Sarahang of Afghanistan, who studied under Ashiq Ali Khan of Patiala. Look out for the quatrain at 3.28:
- Mohammad Hussain Sarahang: Darbari

This beautifully demonstrates the manner in which the same lyric has been interpreted in so many different manners, indeed genres. It also illustrates how Amir Khusro has influenced creativity cutting across stylistic lines.

Ustad Amir Khan has used several other quatrains of Khusro’s in his Tarana compositions. The following composition in Chandrakauns is one of his most beautiful. It is sourced from Patrick Moutal's page on Hindustani Music.
- Amir Khan: Chandrakauns

It features the quatrain Khansahib mentions in his 1956 article:

Su-e Man Aa Ki Tura / Yar-e-wafadar manum.
Har Cheh Dari 8aman awar / Ki Kharidar manum.

(Come to me O love, for I love thee true.
To achieve thee is my aim, no matter what be the price.)

9. Bibliography

1. ‘Early Sufis in the Chishti Order’, available online at: http://www.chishti.ru/order_of_sufis.htm.
2. ‘Khwaja Gharib Nawaz’, available online at: http://www.chishti.ru/o_gharib_nawaz.htm.
3. ‘Khwaja Moinuddin Hasan Chishti’, available online at: http://www.chishti.ru/order_of_sufis.htm.
4. Anwar, Khwaja Khurshid (1976) A Gift to Posterity, (originally published in The Pakistan Times), available online at: http://films.hindi-movies-songs.com/a-gift-to-pro.html
5. Baba, Gudri Shah, ‘Hazrat Nizamuddin Awlia, r.a.’, available online at: http://muslim-canada.org/nizamuddin.pdf
6. Bhatkhande, VN (1990 reprint) Leading Music Sytems of the 15th, 16th, 17th, & 18th Centuries, Delhi.
7. Das, RK (2004) Ameer Khusro – the Great Indian, Delhi.
8. Khan, Amir (1966) ‘The Tarana Style of Singing’, available online at: http://caferisko.ca/ak/tarana.html
9. Miner, Allyn (1993) Sitar and Sarod in the 18th and 19th Centuries, Delhi.
10. Mishra, Susheela (1990) Some Immortals of Hindustani Music, Delhi.
11. Saeed, Yousuf (2001) 'Excerpts from Khusrau's Persian Poetry', available online at: http://www.alif-india.com/love.html
    
12. Saeed, Yousuf (2001) 'Some Anecdotes from Amir Khusrau's Life', available online at: http://www.alif-india.com/legend.html
13. Saeed, Yousuf (2001) 'Some Qawwalies and Folk Songs of Khusrau Tradition', available online at: http://www.alif-india.com/lyrics.html
14. Willard, NA (1834) A Treatise on the Music of Hindoostan, Calcutta.

[Concluded]

Read more...

Amir Khusro and Indian Classical Music - II

[Continued from Part I]

4. Khusro and Music Theory

Just as Amir Khusro was born at a decisive juncture of history, so did his music lead to a decisive phase in the development of North Indian music. Historically, the evolution of this art form has been characterised by deviance from traditionally acknowledged principles. For example, the great scholar Sarangadeva, writing just prior to Amir Khusro’s birth, commented that the music of Bharata and Matanga had become extinct.

Similarly, it seems that by Amir Khusro’s time, Sarangadeva’s precepts themselves started losing relevance. One controversial issue was his division of the octave into 22 shrutis or microtones. This was compounded by the fact that he took as the fundamental note of the octave not the first but the fourth microtone, referred to as chhandovati. (Willard 1834: 43) Such an arrangement produces a musical mode or scale featuring flattened third and seventh notes, corresponding to the present-day Kafi thaat. (Bhatkhande 1990: 28)

Amir Khusro realised that this convention was outmoded. Accordingly, he adopted as the fundamental note of the object the first shruti, called teevraa. This yielded a scale comprising seven natural notes, which is familiar to us as the natural scale or the Bilawal that. According to many, musicians in the South continued to follow Sarangadeva’s system, which led the northern and southern streams of music to gradually diverge and coalesce into self-contained musical systems in their own right. Therefore, it seems Amir Khusro’s innovations have played a critical role in shaping Hindustani music into what it is today.

5. Khusro and the Origins of Ragas

Khusro is also regarded by many scholars as the creator of Raga Sarparda, or Sarparda Bilawal as it is now known. A characteristic feature of this Raga is that it uses only the seven notes of the natural scale. This lends credence to the belief that the practice of using the natural scale began with him.

Apart from Sarparda mentioned already, Khusro is popularly credited with having devised Ragas like Yaman, Zeelaf, Sazgiri, and so on. He himself mentions in his magnum opus Ejaz-e-Khusravi several names like Hijaj, Jangula, Sarparda, Ghaaraa, Mujeer, Eman (Yaman), Farodast Waakhrez, Farghanaa and Husaini. (Das 2004: 213) Interestingly, he himself does not claim credit for their creation, and instead modestly states that they already existed in Indo-Iranian music.

Nevertheless, subsequent scholars consider Khusro to be the creator of a number of them. They point out that the Ragas mentioned are actually blends of existing Indian and Persian melodies. Yaman, for example, is an amalgam of the Indian Hindol (as it existed then) and the Persian Nairez or Nairiz. Similarly, Saazgiri comprises the ancient Indian forms of Purbi, Vibhaas, Gaud and Gunkali along with the Persian Ahang. (Ibid.)

Of these, only Yaman remains popular in today’s day and age. Sarparda is performed only by members of selected Gharanas. Hijaj and Zeelaf are performed only very rarely. Saazgiri is even more obscure. Others like Farghanaa and Farodast Waakhrez have disappeared altogether.

6. The Qawwali

The origins of this musical form are shrouded in obscurity. Some scholars maintain that many forms of Qawwali existed much before Khusro’s time. At the same time, there is little doubt that he played a seminal role in propagating and popularising Qawwali. Many compositions of Amir Khusro remain as popular today as they were in his own time.

However, Khusro’s contribution to Qawwali is so extensive that it deserves a separate study in its own right. Here, we shall confine ourselves to the impact of this form of music on classical music.

Amir Khusro is said to have created six forms of music, namely Qaul, Qalbana, Khayal, Tarana, Naqsh, and Gul. The last two have lapsed into obscurity. On the other hand, the Qaul remains ever popular. Many consider it obligatory to begin a Qawwali recital with a Qaul. There are some who believe that Amir Khusro did not exactly create this form, and that it had been incorporated into Sufi traditions much before Khusro’s birth.

In essence, the Qaul comprises of a Hadith (saying) of Prophet Mohammed, to which are appended certain apparently meaningless syllables such as nom, tom, yalali, yalala, ta na na and so on, which are today identified with the Tarana form. These syllables actually carry considerable mystical significance, and are used by Sufis as incantations to be repeated over and over.

In the cotton-carding-inspired poem, we saw the same semantically significant words repeated over and over in such a way that all syntactic meaning is lost. The vocalist Ustad Amir Khan has contended in many places, including his seminal 1966 article, that Tarana syllables originally did hold semantic significance, in that they are actually corrupted forms of Persian and Arabic words. Over time and rapturous repetition, however, they were corrupted in a way that obscured their meaning.

This clip of his Darbari features at 1.31 a verbal interjection where he expounds upon his views on the Tarana. He also explains the meaning of his own composition 'Yar-e-Man Biya Biya', to which we shall refer later.
- Amir Khan: Darbari

The Qaul ‘Man Kunto Maula’ attributed to Amir Khusro is by far the most popularly sung. Its lyrics are:

Man kunto maula,
Fa Ali-un maula

Dara dil-e dara dil-e dar-e daani
Hum tum tanana nana, nana nana ray
Yalali yalali yala, yalale
Yalalala yalalala lalalala le

The meaning of the first two lines, a saying of Prophet Mohammed, is as follows: ‘Whoever accepts me as a master, Ali is his master too.’ It is followed by the mystical syllables discussed above. A wonderful rendition by Ustad Jafar Hussain Khan Badayuni can be accessed from Youtube.
- Jafar Hussain Khan Badayuni: Man Kunto Maula

The Qalbana is now performed much less frequently. In fact, it has faded out of public memory to such an extent that its very characteristics and contours are a source of controversy. A rare example available online, performed by Ustad Iqbal Ahmed Khan of the Delhi Gharana and accessed from Yousuf Saeed's site on Amir Khusro, offers some clues as to its musical structure.
- Iqbal Ahmed Khan: Qalbana

Structurally it is not unlike what is called a Rubaidar Tarana. Its first stanza, the Sthayi, consists of mystical syllables, the next (or Antara) incorporates a Persian couplet. An important distinction is that it makes use of several different Talas. The present example, for instance, begins in Firodast, changes to Ektala, Jhaptala, Teentala, and then returns to Firodast.

[Continued in Part III]

Read more...

Amir Khusro and Indian Classical Music - I

Amir Khusro and his Influence on Indian Classical Music

- Abhik Majumdar

[This piece started life more than three years ago, as a script for a proposed documentary. To my chagrin, the project was shelved just as I completed the draft, having put in much time and effort. I had largely forgotten about it all this while. Thanks are due to Leher Zaidi for reminding me of it in the course of a chat on sufism, and also for prodding me to post it. I do so here after refurbishing and recasting it in the form of an article.]

1. Introduction

Hazrat Amir Khusro was born in AD 1253 and died in AD 1325. In these 72 years, he made seminal contributions as a philosopher, mystic, scientist, historian, diplomat, tactician, and above all, as a poet and musician. Much of this is either lost or remain only in manuscripts confined to library shelves. His poetry and music, however, have spawned not one but several living traditions that flourish to this day.

In respect of music, Amir Khusro is today credited with a bewildering number of inventions and innovations. According to many, he created musical instruments like the Sitar and the Tabla, composed new Ragas like Yaman and Zeelaf and Talas like Chakka and Soolfakhta, and created musical forms such as the Qawwali, the Khayal, and the Tarana.

2. The Chishtiyya Sufi Order

The Chishtiyya order began around the 10th century AD. The story goes that Abu Ishaq Shami, a native of Syria, once met a Sufi mendicant who directed him to settle in Chisht, a small town near Herat in Afghanistan. From then on, he became known as Khwaja Abu Ishaq Shami Chishti, and it is from him that the Chishtiyya order is derived. Khwaja Abu Ishaq died in AD 940.

Ultimately, the order reached India through the efforts of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti, popularly known as Gharib Nawaz, or 'protector of the poor'. Born in AD 1138-39 in Sajistan, Iran, he took to mysticism early in his life. Legend has it that once, whjen he was in a trance, he felt the Prophet Mohammed himself ordering him to settle down in Ajmer, which he did in 1190. The Chishti order thus took roots in India, and continues to flourish to the present day. It boasts some of the most exalted Sufi mystics of all times, including Khwaja Qutubuddin Bakhtiar Kaki, Khwaja Fariduddin Ganj-e-Shakar of Ajodhan (the present-day Pak Pattan in Pakistan), and Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia, the mentor of Amir Khusro.

Hazrat Nizamuddin was born in AD 1238 in Badayun, a town near Delhi. In his early years he aspired to become a qazi. A chance meeting with a musician led to his hearing for the first time the name Khwaja Fariduddin, for whom he developed an inexplicable reverence. In his eighteenth year he went to Delhi and met Khwaja Fariduddin’s brother Sheikh Najibuddin Mutawakkil. One day Nizamuddin asked the Sheikh to pray so that he may become a qazi. The Sheikh remained silent. On Nizamuddin’s repeating the request, he said, ‘God forbid that you become a qazi; be something else!’ Shortly afterwards, the call of a muezzin awakened something in him. He promptly set off for Ajodhan, without even taking any food with him.

At Ajodhan, Khwaja Fariduddin had already received a premonition of Nizamuddin’s arrival. He readily accepted Nizamuddin as his disclple, and eventually made him his successor as the khalifa (head) of the Chishtiyya order. Hazrat Nizamuddin then went back to Delhi and, on divine inspiration, set up a khanqah (or monastery) at nearby village called Ghiyaspur. He gained renown for his piety, learning and wisdom, matched with an overwhelming compassion for the poor. In this compassion he was stubbornly resolute, which earned him the wrath of emperor Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq himself. The emperor even threatened to destroy Hazrat Nizamuddin’s monastery when he returned to Delhi from a campaign. The saint is said to have merely murmured ‘Dilli door ast’ (Delhi is far away). Sure enough, before the emperor could reach Delhi, a canopy collapsed and killed him. In the same year AD 1325, Hazrat Nizamuddin also died.

It is beyond dispute that Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti and Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia made seminal contributions to the establishment of Sufism in India. This school of thought quickly attracted followers, since people perceived it as a relief from the strict rigidity preached by the Hindu and Islamic orthodoxy. Indeed, the Sufi tradition in India represents a confluence of the best that either religion has to offer, and due to its syncretistic and non-prejudiced outlook, it has been instrumental in promoting harmony between the Hindu and Muslim communities.

The fundamental beliefs of Sufism concern love as a path to spiritual salvation. It lays great stress on ishq-e-majaazi (temporal or erotic love), as a means to ishq-e-haqiqi, or divine love. Inevitably, adherents of Sufism have written some of the finest love poetry ever. Sufis also emphasise the notion of dikr (or zikr), which literally means ‘reference’ or ‘remembrance’. This entails invocation or contemplation of the divine.

Different sects adopted different methods of dikr. Unlike the Suhrawardi and the Qadri, which found music objectionable, the Chishti and a few other orders laid emphasis on samaa, that is, dikr through ecstatic singing, dancing and so on. It is from this spiritual context that Amir Khusro’s monumental contribution to literature and music emerged.

3. Amir Khusro's Life

Amir Khusro’s father was an immigrant from Turkey, forced to flee his home due to repeated Mongol invasions. He settled down in Delhi and soon acquired a position of prominence. He married the daughter of Imaad ul Mulk, an Indian by birth and a nobleman in the court of emperor Ghiyasuddin Balban.

Khusro’s Indian ancestry exposed him to the greatness of Indian culture, especially its music, for which he developed a special liking. He was never an attentive student, but discovered an abiding love for poetry at a very early age. This, coupled with his equally strong spiritual inclinations, led him to Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia at the tender age of eight.

There exists a legend that he was initially reluctant to go to the saint’s khanqah, and his mother had to literally force him to accompany her there. When they reached, he refused to enter the monastery, and instead, remained standing outside its gates. He then composed in his head the following lines:

Tu aan shahi ke ber aiwan-e qasrat
Kabutar gar nasheenad, baaz gardad
Ghareeb-e mustamand-e ber der aamed
Be-yaayad andaroon, ya baaz gardad

(You are a king at the gate of whose palace
Even a pigeon becomes a hawk.
A poor traveller has come to your gate
Should he enter, or should he return?)

Hazrat Nizamuddin, sitting inside the khanqah, read the thoughts in Khusro’s mind. He immediately dispatched a servant to read out to the young boy standing by the gates the following:

Be-yaayad andaroon mard-e-haqeeqat
Ke ba ma yek nafas hamraaz gardad
Agar abla buvad aan mard-e naadan
Azaan raah-e ke aamad baaz gardad

(O man of reality, come inside
So you become for a while my confidant
But if the one who enters is foolish
Then he should return the way he came)

Khusro was so impressed that he decided forthwith that he had found his spiritual guide.

Over time the love between mentor and disciple grew to such sublime proportions, Nizamuddin even declared that had his religion permitted it, he would have wished for Khusro and himself to be buried in the same grave.

This bond between them also formed the inspiration behind the finest of Khusro’s poetry. Written in both Persian and Hindavi (the tongue spoken by Indians in and around Delhi), his works speak of his erotic love for his mentor, through which rapturous state he sought to access the divine. Indeed, rapture is the fundamental characteristic of his poetry. Once, he chanced upon a dhunia (cotton carder) at work. The rhythmic twanging and buzzing of the carding instrument led him to compose:

Darpai-jana jaanhum raft, jaanhum raft, jaanhum raft. Raft raft jaanhum raft, aihum raft-o aanhum raft, aanhum raft, aanhum raft Aihum aanhum, aihum aanhum aanhum raft, raftan raftan raftan dah . . .

The words make little sense literally, but the repetition of the same words over and over, coupled with the strong underlying rhythm, heightens and reinforces the sense of ecstasy that is the objective of Sufi worship. According to some, this ecstatic repetition is what coalesced into the tarana form of classical music.

Amir Khusro was also an astute politician and tactician. He served no less than eleven kinds spanning three important dynasties. Clearly, his diplomatic skills were of a very high order, for he managed to remain in royal favour even in such turbulent times.

Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia died in 1325 at the age of 95. Khusro was in Awadh at that time. When he came to know of his mentor’s demise, he was inconsolable and declared he would not live long either. Within a few months his prediction came true, and a still grief-stricken Amir Khusro joined his master in the other world.

[Continued in Part II]

Read more...

Honours for Musicians: A History of Bureaucratic Whimsy

Honours for Musicians: A History of Bureaucratic Whimsy

- Abhik Majumdar

[This article was originally written for the Pragoti website, and first appeared here.]

1. Introduction

Awarding vocalist Bhimsen Joshi the Bharat Ratna is surely a welcome step. It has been uniformly welcomed by the music fraternity, the media, and of course the public at large. About the only question raised is whether it has not been too long overdue. The 86-year-old maestro is in very weak health (though according to sources close to him, he intends to perform at this year’s Sawai Gandharva Festival in December). Conferring accolades at this late stage in life, when one is too old and infirm to appreciate in due form, does seem rather pointless.

Certainly this year’s conferment did not evoke the kind of ugly controversy it did back in 1999, when Sitar exponent Ravi Shankar was accorded the honour. Vocalist Jasraj publicly questioned its appropriateness. According to him, some time earlier Shankar had contemplated settling abroad which, in Jasraj’s view, rendered suspect his loyalty to the nation. He went on to suggest Lata Mangeshkar was a more deserving candidate, and also asserted conferment of these awards was the result of hectic lobbying rather than the intrinsic merit of the candidates.

Ravi Shankar’s reaction was predictably one of shock and disgust. More interestingly, Mangeshkar herself joined Kishori Amonkar in dismissing outright Jasraj’s suggestion. She welcomed the decision to award Ravi Shankar, and even said this should have been done long ago. The pitch was queered still further when guitar exponent Vishwa Mohan Bhatt first criticised Jasraj for not taking up his (Bhatt's) case, and then alleged that a Delhi-based music mafia, comprising the likes of Amjad Ali Khan and Zakir Hussain (who for the record is Mumbai-based), was monopolising the music world.

Allegations of this sort are common to most prizes and accolades, not just our National Awards. Dwelling on how true or valid they are is not likely to lead us anywhere much. Given the paucity of confirmed facts available to us, we can only speculate and hypothesise. Instead, here I seek to examine another aspect of this system of awards.

Though our government spent much time and effort in initiatives to sustain our culture, they rank among our more conspicuous failures. Egregious handling by state bodies actually served to lessen the relevance of these tradition in popular perception. And moreover, they also bred a culture of nepotism and claques or "lobbies".

Our National Awards sit oddly within this unwieldly framework. Looking at the Padma awards doled out to musicians in the last fifty-odd years, it is difficult to determine what underlying purpose, if at all any, determined their conferment. And now forty-four years after the awards were instituted, the government seems to have suddenly woken up to the possibility of awarding musicians the Bharat Ratna!

This article examines these developments in the context of the Hindustani classical music tradition of northern India. In particular it addresses questions like whether the awards were intended towards any discernible purpose, and how successful they have been in giving effect to that purpose. It also looks at recent trends where conferment of first the Padma Vibhushan and now the Bhart Ratna on musicians has become customary.

2. Antecedents of National Awards

Article 18 (1) of the Indian Constitution prohibits the State from conferring titles that are not military or academic distinctions. Several reasons exist why this provision was incorporated into the Constitution. One is surely the feudal origins of hereditary titles – this was the time when dismantling Zamindari and other feudal systems of landholding was accorded some priority. In any case, both when our National Awards were instituted in 1945 and in the Supreme Court judgment Balaji Raghavan v. Union of India, it was emphasised that these awards were not in the nature of titles.

It is another matter that very soon after the National Awards were instituted in 1954, recepients began to use them in the manner of titles. So much so that in 1968, a note had to be circulated asking recepients to stop prefixing or suffixing these awards to their names, or mentioning them on letterheads, invitation cards and so on.

Such misuse was perhaps inevitable. Notwithstanding the government’s strenuous assertions to the contrary, the National Awards scheme did bear startling resemblances with British chivalric orders. For example, most such orders have three classes of membership. The Order of the Bath, used to decorate senior civil servants and military officers, comprises the following categories: Knight Grand Cross (GCB), Knight Commander (KCB), and Companion (CB). Similarly our National Awards: the Padma Vibhushan, the Padma Bhushan, and the Padma Shri.

Another resemblance involves the disproportionate representation given to civil servants. As the British television series Yes Minister lampoons it so memorably: "Did you know, twenty percent of all honours go to civil servants? . . . The rest of the population has to do something extra to get an honour, something special. They work for twenty-seven years with mentally handicapped children, six nights a week, to get an MBE. Your knighthoods simply come up with the rations."

So it is with our National Awards. Even the 1954 notification states the Padma Awards are intended to recognise varying levels of service " . . . in any field including service rendered by Govt. [sic] servants." (italics mine) Predictably, civil servants, and also politicians and military officers, proceeded to collar the lion’s share of Awards, that too as a matter of routine - "with the rations", as it were.

This is not to suggest representatives of other walks of life were relegated to an afterthought. Right from the inception of the inception of these awards, academics, artists and sportspersons among others were counted among the recepients. The 1954 Padma Vibhushan awardees, for example, comprised four public figures (Zakir Hussain, BG Kher, VK Krishna Menon and King Jigme Dorje Wangchuk of Bhutan), the physicist Satyen Bose, and the painter Nandalal Bose.

The actual malaise lay at a deeper level. With the Indian bureaucracy being as opaque as it was and still is, determining "distingushed service" became a hush-hush affair, largely shielded from public scrutiny. What may euphemistically be termed "subjective considerations" began to play an increasingly significant role in this process.

It did not take long for this opaque (and frequently subjective) method of assessment to extend to other areas such as music, our main topic. However, this has to be appreciated in the light of another consideration, namely our government’s post-independence endeavours in sustaining our musical traditions.

3. Government as Patron of Music

Classical music flourished in northern India largely due to the patronage extended to it and its practitioners by the feudal aristocracy. Independence in 1947 brought in its wake phenomena such as the merging of the princely states and the abolition of Zamindari, which in turn dismantled the srtructure of patronage that our musicians depended upon.

The state sought to step into the breach, rather ham-handedly. It did so through several schemes and institutions. Bodies like the Sangeet Natak Akademi sought to stimulate research and performance in music, dance and the dramatic arts. Universities and schools of music imparted musical education in an organised, systematic manner, in marked contrast to older traditions of pedagogy which depended entirely on the idiosyncrasies of the mentor. Most importantly, state-controlled media like radio regularly and systematically commissioned classical music recitals.

There is a reason why I used the words "systematic" and "systematically" in close succession in the previous paragraph. This is actually where the weakness of these initiatives lay – they were simply too systematic or, to be precise, too formalist in their approach.

The radio introduced a system where all artistes were to be graded according to their competence. "Audition boards" have become power-centres in their own right. Even in their early days, their methods were frequently questionable. They persisted in asking theory-oriented questions to traditional musicians. This when traditional pedagogic systems valued experiental understanding and demonstration, and rejected theory for its own sake as sterile and abstract. In later years the system deteriorated beyond all recognition, as the professionalism of the early years gave way to bureaucratisation, and then the consolidation of vested interests. Even if one discounts this latter-day degeneration, questions have been raised whether the formalism inherent to the gradation scheme was at all appropriate to a musical tradition that valued received knowledge and extempore improvisation over formal study.

This formalism has proved the downfall of other initiatives as well. Universities and music schools emphasised completion of syllabi and curricula at the cost of ensuring proper assimilation of imparted knowledge. As a result, students became familiar with only the superficialities of musical concepts, and gained no insights into what they actually meant, or how they were to be developed further.

A favourite anecdote of mine involves a friend who once sat in some sort of a selection committee. One candidate claimed she had cleared the sixth-year examinations in music. My friend commented she must have studied Poorvi and Pooriya Dhanashri (two Ragas that share certain strong structural similarities); the candidate replied yes, she had. So my friend asked her to explain the difference between them. After a long, agonised pause she ventured the following: "The only difference I can recall is that Pooriya Dhanashri is in the fourth-year syllabus, and Poorvi is a fifth-year Raga."

4. National Awards and Hindustani Music

One would have expected the conferment of National Awards to be rigidly controlled along formalistic and bureaucratic lines. However, a cursory perusal of the awards lists suggests just the contrary. Over the years there have regularly occurred some strange conferments, and some even more explicable omissions.

In the initial years, the awards were conferred along somewhat regularised lines. Leading musicians of the day were given the Padma Bhushan, and others the Padma Shri. In 1957, Mushtaq Hussain Khan and S N Ratanjankar became the first Hindustani musicians to be awarded the Padma Bhushan (M S Subbulakshmi had won it back in 1954). They were followed by the likes of Allauddin Khan (1958), Hafiz Ali Khan (1960), Bade Ghulam Ali Khan (1962), Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar Khan (1967), Bismillah Khan (1968), Rahimuddin Dagar and Kesarbai Kerkar (1969), Ahmedjan Thirakwa and Hirabai Barodekar (1970), Amir Khan, Gangubai Hangal, Nissar Hussain Khan and “Master” Krishnarao Phulambrikar (1971), and Vinayakrao Patwardhan (1972) among others.

Despite the considerable cultural significance of the Dhrupad genre, its practitioners have so far been been either unlucky or unworthy of selection committes’ approbation. So far, four Dhrupadiyas have been awarded the Padma Bhushan – Rahimuddin Dagar (1969), Aminuddin Dagar (1976), Rahimuddin’s son Fahimuddin Dagar, and the Rudra Veena exponent Asad Ali Khan (both 2008). Inexplicably, maestroes Ram Chatur Mallick and Siyaram Tiwari were relegated to Padma Shri status (conferred in 1970 and 1971 respectively).

Ignored so far are the two brothers Zia Fariduddin and the late Zia Mohiuddin Dagar, who have contributed to music not only as top-notch performers but also pedagogues of extraordinary merit. They have freely given of their knowledge, produced several excellent disciples, and continue to run a gurukul in their own house and at their own expense. All this when Dhrupad exponents are generally notorious for being indifferent to students from outside their family.

Zia Mohiuddin Dagar is noted for his seminal contributions towards the near-extinct Rudra Veena. Asad Ali Khan (Padma Bhushan 2008) became the first practitioner of this rare instrument to receive a National Award. Other noted exponents include Shamsuddin Faridi, Bindu Madhav Pathak, Eknath Pandit and Dabir Khan among others. None of them have received even a Padma Shri so far.

Pakhawaj exponents have been similarly neglected. Ayodhya Prasad was given the Padma Shri in 1968, Purushottam Das in 1984, and Shankarrao Shinde Apegaonkar in 1986. Omissions include the late Raja Chhatrapati Singh, veteran Ram Ashish Pathak, and contemporary performers Manik Munde and Shrikant Mishra.

Even among practitioners of the mainstream Khayal genre, shocking omissions abound. These include vocalists Narayanrao Vyas, Vasantrao Deshpande, Vilayat Hussain Khan, his son Yunus Hussain Khan, Rajabhaiya Poochwale, his son Balasaheb Poochwale, Munawar Ali Khan, Gajananrao Joshi, and his disciple Ulhas Kashalkar (arguably the finest vocalist around today); Sarod exponent Radhika Mohan Maitra; and Sitar exponent Balaram Pathak. Vocalist Jitendra Abhisheki and Tabla maestro Allah Rakha were awarded only Padma Shris (in 1988 and 1977 respectively). [Update: Kashalkar received the Padma Shri in 2010]

While S N Ratanjankar was one of the first recepients of the Padma Bhushan way back in 1957, his very able disciples have been ignored. K G Ginde and S C R Bhat dedicated their lives to the propagation of music. Apart from being excellent performers, they were also known for their immense scholarship. Dinkar Kaikini spent most of his life with All India Radio, and then as a preceptor with the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan. The trio have not even a Padma Shri between them.

Indeed, those who dedicated themselves (and often sacrificed their performative careers) to the propagation of and research in music have generally fared very badly in the National Awards game. Sumati Mutatkar was given the Padma Shri in 1999, when she was 83. The much-venerated Thakur Jaidev Singh, Prem Lata Sharma, Vamanrao Deshpande, Lalmani Mishra (also a respected Vichitra Veena and Sitar exponent), B R Deodhar and Ramashreya Jha "Ramrang" have achieved not even that.

5. Awards and the Public Eye

On the other hand, let us look at who have prominently benefited from the awards system. Allauddin Khan was the first Hindustani musician to receive the Padma Vibhushan. Since then, he has been joined by fourteen more. While no major controversies have been created about their conferment, there have been some eyebrows raised now and then in musical circles. Vocalist Jasraj, flautist Hari Prasad Chaurasia (both 2000), Sarod exponent Amjad Ali Khan, and Santoor exponent Shiv Kumar Sharma (both 2001) are renowned musicians, and the object of much veneration among laypersons and the cognoscenti alike. At the same time, they have also been accused of compromising their musical standards so as to enhancing their popular appeal.

[I personally believe that despite immense efforts made by its purveyors, the Santoor is inherently and severely constricted as a classical instrument. It allows for only abrupt, discrete transition betweeen notes, and is incapable of generating the meend (or glides, frequently mistranslated as glissando but actually closer to portamento in western musical terminology) so essential to our music.]

This is not to suggest that Padma Awards, or its upper echelons, have gone only to those who have courted the public eye. Among Padma Vibhushan awardees, Gangubai Hangal (2002) and Mallikarjun Mansur (1992) are highly respected in all quarters as both uncompromising musicians and exemplary human beings. The maverick genius Kumar Gandharva received it as long ago as 1990. Kishori Amonkar (2002) is well known also for her somewhat idiosyncratic behaviour, but nobody can accuse her of diluting her music. And then we have those who were subsequently awarded the Bharat Ratna, to whom we shall revert in a while.

Even the other awards have seen a few truly inspired decisions. Vocalist Khadim Hussain Khan, prodigiously learned as he was modest to a fault, was given the Padma Bhushan in 1982, and the reclusive Annapurna Devi in 1979. But surely these stray instances cannot outweigh the shabby treatment meted out to so many notable figures in the realm of our music.

6. Conclusion: Music and the Bharat Ratna

The list of musicians awarded the Bharat Ratna is set to increase for certain. Rumour has it that Kishori Amonkar, Mallikarjun Mansur, Sarod exponent Ali Akbar Khan, Carnatic vocalist M Balamuralikrishna and Odissi exponent the late Kelucharan Mohapatra are possible contenders. Days before the award to Bhimsen Joshi was officially announced, Jasraj went on record calling himself a recluse, a madman, and an arrogant, whimsical, foul-mouthed maverick (and thus presumably indifferent to awards and other recognition).

Nobody can say what the future holds, but so far the awarding of the Bharat Ratna has evoked largely positive responses. Even the controversy surrounding Ravi Shankar died a quick death as it became increasingly clear that the diatribe against him was not undiluted by personal motives.

Admittedly, he and also Lata Mangeshkar have not been entirely uncontroversial figures. Among other things, some have accused them of plotting to undermine their rivals’ careers. But such rumours should not, cannot detract from their immense contribution to music. Incidentally the other awardees, Bismillah Khan, M S Subbulakshmi, and of course Bhimsen Joshi, are recognised non-controversial figures who, once again, have made immense contributions to music.

One wonders how is it that the awards committe got it right so consistently. For that matter, why open up the Bharat Ratna to musicians all of a sudden in 1998, 44 years after it was instituted? It is nobody’s case (well, almost nobody’s case) that Ravi Shankar, Bismillah Khan or Bhimsen Joshi do not deserve the Bharat Ratna. But surely, can anyone argue the maestroes of yesteryear were any less deserving of the accolade?

Matters are made even more confusing if we keep in mind that (a) in the last fifty-odd years ghastliest lapses have been committed in respect of other awards, and (b) the government’s own efforts towards the betterment of music have been dismal flops. Or does it? To my mind, these two factors themselves suggest a possible solution.

At this time, the government’s credibility in respect of cultural interventions has sunk to an all-time low. Now, the best way to restore this tarnished credibility is surely through taking decisions that lie beyond reproach. Isn’t that just what the government doing here? It does look like a possible solution, but whether it is the right solution, or even a right solution, can only be speculated upon.

Read more...