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A thinking vocalist

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By Meena Banerjee

Shashank Maktedar, a die-hard devotee of Hindustani classical music, is among those bravehearts who are striving hard to win the approval of the elders in the field. He was not born with a golden voice like Rashid Khan, is not glamorous like Zakir Hussain; he is a shy, reticent, almost self-effacing young vocalist. And despite all these ‘disqualifications’, his music has haunted me ever since I heard him in 2012 during a mega-event at Dhaka, Bangladesh. Jointly organised by the Bengal Foundation, Dhaka, and ITC Sangeet Research Academy, Kolkata, this major Indo-Bangladesh venture in the arena of Indian classical music and dance, held from 29 November to 2 December, had four night-long sessions that featured almost a hundred top-ranking artists from all over India.

After this I attended numerous renowned annual soirees in Kolkata, but Shashank’s version of raga Sree, reverberating in the huge Army Stadium in Dhaka, stayed in my mind like a flawless painting. Pundits would probably give credit to the perfect timing which helped the raga to cast its spell – rendered as the last coppery rays of the day were slowly engulfed by the mysterious veil of dusk. Maybe, but any sensational musician, with his ego and showmanship ruling the roost, could have spoiled the mood. Instead, here was a devotee who, in his unobtrusive, quiet manner, with his eyes lovingly focused on the raga’s pristine features, was invoking its true spirit with utmost sincerity. It is the same sincerity that made his rendition of raga Bhoopali as impressive when he performed at the Jnana Pravaha Music Festival (22-24 February 2013) under the aegis of Vijay Kichlu’s Sangeet Ashram. Kichlu took pride in introducing this young maestro when he said, “Shashank was a scholar during my tenure in ITC SRA. He is one of the stars today, knocking at the doors of super-stardom.”

Early impact

I had heard Shashank in the late 1990s when he was receiving taleem from Ulhas Kashalkar, one of the best khayal exponents of this era. Even then he got noticed for his ear for purity of raga in the manner of his guru; so much so that the guru-sishya duo won the Jodu Bhatta award. But that was that. Maktedar then opted to become a teacher and joined Goa College of Music in 2000. A couple of years later he came down to perform at ITC SRA. The impressive maturity with which he etched the characters of the heavy Malkauns followed by a light-hearted Sohini is still fresh in my memory. He did not wring Malkauns out of its seriousness, nor did he drag Sohini down. Very few musicians show this kind of sensitivity in choosing ragas that can showcase their contemplative mood steeped in emotions along with sheer virtuosity. I had asked him then what inspired him to be so when the trend was to coerce the raga till all imagination (read khayal) ceased to exist. He had said, “Now that I teach, I get enough time to think.”

Home away from home

I wished to talk to him before he became a superstar. The only place to catch him in Kolkata is his guru’s residence within the ITC SRA premises. It is a home away from home with delicious Maharashtrian food dished out from the kitchen of Sanjeevani Kashalkar (his loving guruma), music and pooja sessions with his guruji and younger guru-bhais Sameehan Kashalkar, Omkar Dadarkar and many others. I dropped in unannounced on them one evening. While Shashank was having his supper, Ulhas, like a devoted father and the master of the house, came out of the dining room to treat me to sweets and equally sweet information, “Shashank is Dr. Shashank Maktedar now!” he announced with well-placed pride, “He has been awarded Ph.D for his Analytical Study of Pandit Gajananbuwa Joshi’sMusical Contribution. He is Assistant Professor in the vocal department of Goa Music College.” When Shashank stepped in, guru Kashalkar decided to slip out quietly to allow undivided space for discussion. Here are excerpts from the interview.

Who initiated you into music?

‘I belong to Aurangabad (Marathwada) and was fortunate to receive training in vocal music from Pandit Nath Narelkar, my first guru. I was barely eight years old when he accepted me as a student of his gurukul where, this vidya was given free of cost in the guru sishya parampara. Sincere dedication was all that he demanded. For twelve years I went there twice a day. So, morning and evening riyaz of two to four hours became my habit. The training followed a system but we never heard the word ‘gharana’ there. Frankly, in Marathwada, there was little or no influence of the Gwalior school. We admired Pandit Bhimsen Joshi a lot and, therefore, Kirana elements crept into our singing to a great extent.

What prompted you to come to the Sangeet Research Academy?

A National Talent Search was organised in 1991. I appeared from Hyderabad but there was no competition or audition test. I sang, they recorded my voice and sent it to SRA. I did not know what to expect. Suddenly we received a telegram which advised me to go to Calcutta. Upon reaching there, I was asked to sit for the competition immediately. And I stood first! When I went back home, my folks and Narelkarji encouraged me to take up this opportunity. I came to SRA as a scholar. Soon after, in 1992, Pandit Ulhas Kashalkar joined the academy as a Guru. Kichlu Saheb gave me an option and I came under guruji’s guidance.

Was there any difference in their styles of teaching?

Huge! Earlier, after the basics, Narelkarji allowed us to use our imagination to do free-flowing alap. But here I learnt that alap too followed a frame, a structure. Pure raag-roop with the help of important phrases of the raga were most important. Perfection was the key word. There was no laxity, nothing between black and white. It was so different from what I had experienced earlier. It seemed that after tasting the life of a free bird I had entered a cage. There was a time when nothing seemed to move forward. It was very frustrating. Then suddenly avartan bharna (filling up the composition with innovative phrases), vistaar (elaborations), bol-alap (lyrics-based improvisations), taans– all became easy.

Ulhas Kashalkar sings in three different styles. Did you too learn Gwalior, Jaipur and Agra?

Initially I was taught the Gwalior style.. That is when I learnt ragas like Yaman, Sree and Behag. Later Guruji gave me Jaipur’s Behagda and Pooria. In 2006-7, I won a scholarship from Delhi’s Sanskriti Pratishthan. That is when I received extensive training in the Agra style and learnt ragas like Barwa, Gara Kanada and Dhanasree. Initially I was a photocopy of my guruji’s style of singing. He pushed me to come out of it. Now, as a teacher, I realise what treasures have been handed down to me. Whenever I need something, I peep into my collection and find such precious gems. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and feel a great sense of responsibility. This forces me to think about my music and inspires me to showcase this inherited treasure with utmost care. I need the blessings of my listeners to help me do so.

Birthdays & Anniversaries

Remembering Mehdi Hassan

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By V Ramnarayan

It has been a year since Mehdi Hassan breathed his last. Here is a somewhat personal, not so objective tribute to his music.

The first time I heard a Mehdi Hassan ghazal was in the voice of Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi. The former India captain and iconic batsman of the 1970s, my senior in the Hyderabad cricket team, had this habit of entering the dressing room with a song on his lips — well, a thunderous rendering of his favourite tune of the day in a stentorian voice that set the windowpanes rattling. So it was that I was completely overcome by surprise when I first heard Gulshan, gulshan, shola yeh gul ki in Mehdi Hassan’s gentle voice after being rocked by Tiger Pataudi’s version.

Before that, however, I had had my introduction to ghazals through Jagjit Singh, who regarded Mehdi Hassan as his guru. Jagjit Singh of that vintage was a revelation to someone like me, who until then knew film music and classical music, and nothing in between. He and his wife Chitra Singh delighted listeners with some excellent albums of poignant Urdu verses sung so sensitively, yet so strongly.

Gulshan, gulshan and Patta patta were the first two Mehdi Hassan ghazals to captivate me, particularly in how deceptively simple they were. They sounded so easy to the ear, but had so many subtle variations and so many delightful nuances that the ustad indulged in so effortlessly, but which were impossible of achievement to ordinary mortals.

Many more favourites followed: Gulon mein rang bhare, I understand was the song with which Mehdi Hassan began his career. A haunting number, it has a delicately tragic air about it.

I did not chance to hear the all-time classic Abke hum bichhde for many more years. The early versions of this song set in raga Bibhas were never equalled for poignancy or purity of sound even by Mehdi Hassan himself in subsequent performances or recordings.

To me, Mehdi Hassan was at his simple, nuanced, natural, sophisticated best in Dekh to dil ke jaanse uthta hai, Yeh dhuan sa kahan se uthta hai. If that description sounds contradictory, try singing it. You’ll see what I mean. Sheer genius — all art and no artifice.

I am almost forgetting his songs in Punjabi and Bengali. His Bulleya kee jaana main kaun (in raga Tilang) must be among the best songs in Punjabi.

To listen to the purest, most innocent Mehdi Hassan voice we must go back to his early songs, even to his film numbers. Most of his work after the 1980s were to my mind somewhat laboured, especially when he prefaced his singing with explanations and demonstrations of the challenges posed by certain ragas. In time I learnt to be suspicious of any collection or album of his specifically labelled as raga-based. Even his all time favourites like Kaise kaise log, Ranjishi sahi or Zindagi mein to sabhi pyar kiya karte hain, or Abke hum bichhde, the earliest versions find him at his peak, according to me, because his voice was at its pliant best and the many variations were spontaneous and effortless.

There have been many great ghazal singers including the still popular Ghulam Ali, but Mehdi Hassan remains my personal favourite. Had he taken seriously to khayal singing, he would have probably made it to the top rung with a lot of hard work, but in his chosen genre, he was king — seemingly effortlessly so.

Generation Next

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By KS Kalidas

Archana and Aarathi

(Reproduced from Sruti 345, June 2013)

Few young musicians can claim the pedigree that the twenty four year-old vocalist twins Archana and Aarathi do. They are the great grandnieces of Harikesanallur Muthiah Bhagavatar and great granddaughters of T.L. Venkatarama Iyer, who were first cousins. Muthiah Bhagavatar was a great musicologist, Harikatha exponent and illustrious composer. Venkatarama Iyer, besides being an eminent jurist, was also an authority on Dikshitar kritis; both were, of course, Sangita Kalanidhis. What is more, the twins are disciples of Sangita Kalanidhi R. Vedavalli, a respected musician and guru in Chennai.

Judging by today’s standards, Archana and Aarathi are late starters as most talented youngsters start performing while in their teens and get noticed in the space of four or five years by sabhas and rasikas. In the case of the twins, they have gained attention and a fair share of popularity only in the last two years.

Their parents are not musicians but have a deep interest in music. As the girls have taken to music like ducks to water, they have been given full freedom to choose music as their career though they are both degree holders in engineering, graduating with merit two years ago. They have declined the job offers that came their way. In this respect, they are among a large number of qualified professionals who give up a lucrative career in order to pursue a career in music; this is specially true of girls. Wonder why youngsters go in for a professional degree in the first place when their goal is a musical career!

Be that as it may, music in the twins’ family started in right earnest when their elder brother started learning vocal music and became passionately interested in it. While he did not take up music as his vocation, he and the parents wanted Archana and Aarathi to do so. However, as their father had frequent job related transfers, their learning was frequently disrupted. As advised by well-wishers, they trained for about two years with vidwan P.S. Narayanaswamy, three years with veena vidwan Trivandrum Venkataraman and for seven years with vidushi R. Vedavalli, still continuing their tutelage under her. They are also final year students in the three-year advanced course in music at the Music Academy, Madras. According to them, while their private tuition helps them to understand the nuances of music, the course in the Academy trains them in the practical side of their concerts.

Their first concert was in 2005 at Naada Inbam, Chennai, and since then, they have sung at many venues in Chennai and other places in Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Bengaluru and Mumbai (Shanmukhananda Hall). Under the talent promotion scheme of the Iyal, Isai Nataka Manram, Chennai, they have performed in Chennai, Madurai, Tiruchi and Tirunelveli. Apart from winning prizes in various competitions, they have also earned titles like Padma Bharati and Sangeeta Balabrahmam.

Being a performing duo, and twins at that, gives them certain advantages. There is constant company, exchange of ideas and joint planning for concerts. Usually in singing duos, one of them has a voice heavier than the other. The twins’ voices have identical timbre and strength and blend well. Their diction is good and their music has ‘azhuttham’. They are graded artists of AIR and Doordarshan.

With solid talent and a good musical upbringing, we can expect Archana and Aarathi to have a successful career in music in the years to come.

(KS Kalidas is a mridanga vidwan, connoisseur of classical music, and a keen follower of young talent)

Birthdays & Anniversaries

Generation Next

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By Nandini Ramani

Rasika Kumar

(Reproduced from Sruti 345, June 2013)

Rasika Kumar is the daughter and disciple of Mythili Kumar — senior Bharatanatyam artist and artistic director of Abhinaya Dance Company of San Jose, California. Rasika started learning Bharatanatyam from her mother at the age of four and blossomed into a full-fledged performer very early. She started performing and touring for the productions of Abhinaya Dance Company along with her mother before diverse audiences in the U.S.A. and India. An alumnus of MIT, Boston, Rasika participated in various cultural events held in the greater Boston area while there.

After almost a decade of continuous performances and productions, Rasika travelled to India in 2004, to pursue advanced lessons in nritta and abhinaya from Prof. C.V. Chandrasekhar and Kalanidhi Narayanan. After her return to the US, Rasika started intense work as a soloist; in addition, she started choreographing solo thematic as well as group productions of the Abhinaya Dance Company. Some themes choreographed by Rasika like Ritusamhara, Poetic Splendour, Prithvi, Rivers – A Mystical Journey, Nritya Sangati, and Jwala, gave her ample scope to hone her skills under the supervision of her mother. She has to her credit full-length solo productions like Saatvikaa, Dharma Yuddha, Courage, and Maya – The Mystery of Krishna. Gandhari, her solo dance theatre, received wide approbation for her use of abstract and mimetic movement to communicate the lamenting Gandhari – the self imposed-blind queen and mother of a hundred sons in the Mahabharata. Interesting solo features choreographed by Rasika include Call of the Flute based on lyrics from the Krishna Karnamritam, Crackles– an abstract work of group choreography interpreting the varied flames of fire, Tsunami– a tribute to the survivors who maintained order and dignity amidst chaos, The rise of Jhalkari Bai about the Rani of Jhansi and Tales of Immigrant Women, featuring Mythili and Rasika depicting the poignant stories of two women migrating from India to America.

Rasika is hailed as one of the best among the younger generation of Indian dancers in the US. With her tall and supple physique, she has quite a striking stage presence, and a talent for solo and group choreography. Rasika impresses with her sensitive and intelligent portrayal of various themes.

The Ethnic Dance Festivals invited Mythili and Rasika Kumar to present their choreographic works in 2008 and 2010. Rasika was selected to perform at the sjDANCEco’s Annual ChoreoProject Award in 2007, 2008 and 2010 and for the Western Wave Dance festival at San Francisco. Rasika received a Performing Arts Fellowship from the Arts Council, Silicon Valley in 2008 which helped her broaden her horizons. She collaborated with Franco Imperial of San Jose Taiko in a rhythmic item called Synergy, which won both the dance companies an Isadora Duncan Award in theMusic Category (2011). This item received praise for its fine blend of “technical proficiency and rhythmic texture of the joint effort”.

Mythili had learnt and performed Odissi, and it was but natural for Rasika to be drawn to the same art-form. Rasika trained in Odissi initially under Niharika Mohanty and in an intensive manner with Sujata and Ratikant Mohapatra. Rasika’s participation in the Odissi International festival in Bhubaneswar in 2011 fulfilled yet another ambition of hers.

Employed as a software engineer at Google Inc., Rasika has worked hard with great commitment to dance, earning recognition from the art-loving community of the Bay area. Belonging to a generation of Indians born in America, Rasika has also attempted to blend traditional Bharatanatyam and contemporary dance. With her firm grounding in Bharatanatyam, her artistic journey has been an insightful process of exploration where she strives to strike a balance between the two streams, based on their basic grammar and technique. For the “thinking dancer” that Rasika is, the sky is the limit.

Birthdays & Anniversaries

“Each Bettiah bani has a glorious form”: Falguni Mitra

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By Meena Banerjee

Falguni Mitra
Kolkata witnessed a mega dhrupad festival early last year. Amongst all the stalwarts who participated during this three-day event at the prestigious Vivekananda Hall of the Ramakrishna Mission Institute of culture, Falguni Mitra was singled out to give an introductory lecture before his vocal rendition. The erudite former Guru and Prefect with the ITC Sangeet Research Academy discussed the characteristics of his Bettiah gharana (further enriched by the alapchari style of none else than Nasiruddin Khan, the founder of the Dagar gharana) in a nutshell. Some excerpts:

How did Bettiah get associated with all the four banis?

In the late 18th century, Shiv Dayal Mishra, a disciple of the Seniya musicians Karim Sen and Rahim Sen of the Nepal Durbar, was an expert in the four banis of dhrupad. He came to the court of Bettiah and introduced a unique style. He trained the prolific composer-kings of Bettiah, Maharaja Anand Kishore Singh and Naval Kishore Singh. Apart from this, the Mullick families, who settled in Bettiah in the 17th century, specialised in Gaurhar and Khandar banis. During this time a unique outburst of intense compositional activity happened and the Bettiah court gained a singular place in dhrupad history. Different lineages of musicians attached to the court were also inspired to augment a vast repertoire of old dhrupads from their ancestors in the different banis. The composers and musicians of Bettiah crystallised the four banis by the early 19th century. This knowledge has been carried forward by the surviving lineages of the Bettiah gharana. The Mishras of Benares carried the fourbani tradition, whereas the Mullicks of Bettiah carried the Gaurhar and Khandar banis. I belong to the Shiv Dayal Mishra lineage and, therefore, can handle all the banis with all their unique features.

Is the word ‘bani’ (literally meaning language) synonymous with ‘gayaki’ (style of singing)?

The literal meanings are self explanatory. The bani of dhrupad, also known as ‘ban’, could be explained as stylistic idioms with definite lakshana or musical characteristics. While the word bani has multiple usages in Indian music that overlap with style, as well as gayaki, the dhrupad bani is neither style nor gayaki; it actually categorises distinctive stylistic idioms. Different sections of the alap portion can also display the lakshanas of different banis, but the banis are most clearly captured within the well-defined and bounded framework of a bandish. The composers of the Bettiah gharana were remarkably successful in establishing each bani as a distinctive and glorious musical form.

What are the salient features of these forms?

Each bani has very definite lakshanas. For instance, Gaurhar bani is meend pradhan or meend-dominant. The compositions are set to a slower pace with spaced out lyrics. The Khandar bani is gamaka pradhan and as a result exudes power. The Dagar bani is more madhur or pleasing and saral or uncomplicated. The Nauhar bani is characterised by its complex gait, with unexpected movements and leaps. Musicians employ different alankars or ornamental techniques and embellishments in their practice to express the lakshanas. These alankars may vary from person to person or lineage to lineage; but the overall effect of each bani must conform to its definitive character. The composition of one bani cannot be fitted in another as the lyrics prompted the use of long, intertwining meends or gamakas or fast moving note-patterns or rhythmic designs.

How have you modernised your style?

I treat lyrics with utmost care. Clear enunciation of each word, without twisting and breaking them during the bol-baant (rhythmic play with divided lyrics) is the most treasured characteristic of my singing. I have incorporated sargam-singing and my layakari simply floats over the chosen tala – without power-packed jerks or unnecessary stresses. Besides I choose my compositions to suit a given occasion as I am lucky to possess a rich treasure of dhrupads.

Birthdays & Anniversaries

Generation Next

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By KS Kalidas

N.C. Bharadwaj

(Reproduced from Sruti 342, March 2013)

Parents do not normally take three-year old children to music concerts, but Bharadwaj was an exception. He not only listened keenly to the concert but kept talam even if the kutcheri lasted a full three hours. And during the tani avartanam, he would try to match the strokes by drumming on his tiny knees, without fidgeting or running around the auditorium as kids of his age would do. Back home after the concert, he would pick up the nearest pot available to continue his brand of tani avartanam to his heart’s content. His parents were not trained in music but were keen listeners and on seeing their child’s propensity towards percussion, they enrolled him under mridanga vidwan Srivanchiyam Gopalan at the age of six. After the death of his guru in 2000, Bharadwaj, whose family had by now moved to Nanganallur, was placed under the tutelage of Nanganallur Sriram, a senior disciple of vidwan Karaikudi Mani. Bharadwaj continues to learn from Sriram. Intensive coaching lasted for about six years and, as early as 2004, Sriram, after observing the innate talent of the boy, asked him to participate in mridangam competitions held by various sabhas. Over the next two years, the boy won prizes in almost all the major sabhas in Chennai like the Indian Fine Arts Society, Music Academy, Mylapore Fine Arts Club and Sri Krishna Gana Sabha, to name a few.

Today at 20, Bharadwaj has decided to take up mridangam-playing as his profession – a timely and appropriate decision, going by the demands from sabhas and vidwans in Chennai and elsewhere for his participation in their concerts. He has a busy concert schedule which has already taken him to various cities in India, as well as Malaysia and Singapore. Among the senior artists he has accompanied are vidwans N. Ramani, T.V. Sankaranarayanan, Lalgudi G.J.R. Krishnan and Vijayalakshmi, Bombay Jayashri, Vijay Siva, Ranjani and Gayatri, S.P. Ramh, and Subhashini Parthasarathy. The number of up-and-coming artists he has played for is legion.

For his mridangam accompaniment, he has won awards in famous organisations like the Music Academy, Narada Gana Sabha, Bharat Kalachar (Yuva Kala Bharathi), and Sri Thyaga Brahma Gana Sabha. His playing is characterised by precision of strokes giving rise to clarity, balance between the ‘valantalai’ and ‘toppi’ and melody (sunadam).

When Bharadwaj was but twelve, he won the first prize in the event Ragam Sangeetam conducted by Raj TV, and came to the notice of talent hunter ‘Abaswaram’ Ramjhi. Bharadwaj was extensively featured in ‘Issai Mazhalai’ concerts which brought him wide recognition and popularity. Since then, there has been no looking back for him.

He literally worships mridanga maestros Palani Subramania Pillai and Palghat Mani Iyer whose recordings he constantly listens to. His favourites in the present generation are vidwans Karaikudi Mani and Trichy Sankaran.

A very bright future awaits this young man.

(The author is a mridanga vidwan, connoisseur of classical music, and a keen follower of young talent)

Birthdays & Anniversaries

Remembering Veenapani

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By Gowri Ramnarayan

(First published two years ago)

What can you say when a friend dies of heart failure at age 67? An artiste with a singular aesthetic vision, intriguing creativity, amazing originality? A theatreperson whose intuitive grasp was matched by her intellectual acuity? A woman whose spiritual orientation did not distance, but sensitized her to the traumas of the material world? Whose one-of-a-kind theatre strove not for emotional catharsis, but epiphanic wisdom?

Veenapani Chawla’s pluralistic vision came from many fields. With postgraduate degrees in history and political philosophy, courses in piano and singing, voice training in London and theatre apprenticeship in Denmark, Veenapani acquired skills in several Indian performance traditions -- Mayurbhanj Chhau, Kalaripayattu, Koodiyattam and dhrupad.

When I first met young Veenapani in old Madras, I found her glance as arresting as her tasseled choli. We exchanged giggles as only adolescents can. Decades later, when we reconnected -- as theatre personality and journalist -- we instantly slipped back into that effortless camaraderie. I saw Veenapani was engaged not merely in creating theatre “shows”, brilliant as they were, but in building a modern performance methodology steeled by traditional Asian theories and techniques.

She told me, “Night after night, Koodiyattom maestro Ammanur Madhava Chakkiar refracted emotions with the same power and freshness. Watching him I realized that, by varying multiple patterns of breath, we can depict different shades of emotions accurately. Fear can even momentarily stop breath. Japanese Noh drama and Koodiyattam have honed breathing techniques for centuries. If we could create a hybrid methodology from different traditions, what infallible means we shall have to texture each moment in performance!”

With the next breath, she could say, “Wow!” as she bit into a piping hot potato bonda, dipped in roasted khuskhus, fresh from the kitchen, and add with a conspiratorial smile, “Shall we watch “Kakka Kakka” (a Tamil thriller!) tonight?” All her scholarship could not dislodge her childlike joy in small, unexpected things.

I knew the journey had not been easy. Veenapani had to virtually squeeze water out of rock. Her indefatigable fundraising efforts managed to establish her Adishakti theatre commune in Pondicherry, with residential quarters for the repertory, and a gem of a theatre. She conducted workshops to exchange knowledge with diverse experts, including the yearly Ramayana symposium. She had the endearing generosity to offer her space to other needy theatre persons for developing their work. 

Veenapani’s internationally acclaimed theatre has been described as an amalgam of myth, metaphor and magic. Certainly much of her scriptwriting and directorial work reinvented myths with multidimensional meanings. Her “Impressions of Bhima” place the archetype in a subaltern landscape, with cartoon and caricature to inscape his psychical evolution. “Ganapati” reinterprets creation/creativity, by retelling primordial birth myths in a cyclical structure, from multiple perspectives. Her interactions with rhythms of many kinds, genres and folk traditions, found new narrative resonances in this play of few words.

In “Brhannala”, incomparable archer Arjuna crosses the gender divide to become a woman teacher of dance and music. Focusing on his name “Savyasachi” (ambidexterous), Veenapani melds science (Einstein), psychology (Niels Bohr), metaphysics (Sri Aurobindo) in actor Vinay Kumar’s superb movements, gestures and expressions. She shapes her own metaphors -- modern and universal -- to prove that polarities can be resolved in a startlingly new apprehension of reality.

Veenapani belonged to the tradition of epic makers who strove to dispel darkness, discover dharma. She embraced modern technology, relished layering hybridity. Pioneering such theatre was experimenting with truth, heightening sensuous and spiritual awareness.

Fortunately, Veenapani had the foresight to delegate responsibility, respect creativity in co-workers. Surely these legatees will find the adishakti, elemental power, to continue the quest. 

Birthdays & Anniversaries

A cellist in Hindustani music

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By Shrinkhla Sahai

Initially trained as a cellist in Western classical music, Saskia Rao-de Haas’s tryst with north Indian classical music took her to varied musical shores. While her virtuosity with the instrument developed under cello maestros Tibor de Machula and Ubaldo Arcari, her musical moorings expanded to new vistas under the mentorship of Hariprasad Chaurasia, Sumati Mutatkar, D.K. Datar, Deepak Chowdhury, Kaustav Roy and Shubhendra Rao.

In this conversation she reflects on her instrument, experiments, research and her journey towards a unique musical identity.

How did your musical journey start?

I was born in Holland and most people in my family are in music. My parents play the piano, my grandfather played the cello and my grandmother was a singer. When I was seven years old, I could choose my own instrument. I was deeply fond of the cello and I wanted to learn it.

Every instrumentalist has a special relationship with the instrument she plays. How has your connection with the cello developed over time?

Interestingly, the first children’s cello I received when I started playing, is from the same violin builder in Holland who has made my Indian cello that I play now. I still remember my first cello; it was a 150-year old French instrument. The cello is a very comfortable instrument. The position is quite natural, you sit with the instrument and give it a big hug. For an artist, your instrument is an extension of yourself. It expresses everything I have to say much better than I could ever do in words. For the first 12 years of cello playing I had never heard of Indian classical music. I was involved in learning more, enhancing my technique. I believed that Western classical music was the one and only true art form in the world. Then one day in my musicology class the professor played Indian classical music. It was dhrupad by the senior Dagar brothers, an alap in raga Yaman. I was fascinated by the slow unfolding of the raga. It immediately touched me and I decided to find out more about this music. Hariprasad Chaurasia was heading the department at the Conservatory of Rotterdam. I started learning more and consequently went to India in the 1990s, more as a researcher than a performer initially. I was fortunate to study under Dr. Sumati Mutatkar. She opened up a new world for me – her approach to music and her connection with each raga as a separate individual were inspiring. This interaction really sealed it for me, and I wanted to know a lot more. After returning to Rotterdam, I started practising this music very seriously, almost 10-15 hours a day for the next five years.

Would you say that you belong to the Maihar gharana?

If I reflect on my training, yes. My guru-s – Pt. Chaurasia, Pt. Shubhendra Rao and Pt. Deepak Chowdhury – belong to that gharana. The style of presenting the full alap jod jhala in this gharana really appealed to me. The approach to each raga is different. For instance, if I were playing Kafi, I wouldn’t play the longer alap but go into the vilambit Teentaal and faster compositions after that. The whole structure and build-up of the music is very enjoyable.

How did you conceive the idea of playing Indian classical music on the cello?

In one of my learning sessions at Rotterdam, Hariprasad Chaurasia advised me to create a style that suited my instrument and where my individuality could be fully expressed. I followed his guidance and started experimenting in that direction.

What technical changes did you bring about in the instrument?

I would say that the instrument grew up with me. We started with baby steps in the world of music and today it has grown into a fully new instrument. The first step was when I saw my teacher, Kaustav Roy, sitting on the floor on my first lesson. I was supposed to sit on the chair to play the cello and I felt deeply uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be sitting on the chair looking down at my teacher. I knew that I had to sit on the floor. By the next lesson I found a way and I still use that method. I tie a kind of belt around the cello and just sit on that so that it doesn’t slip away. With the main cello there are four playing strings. I felt I was missing two things: the first one was the resonating strings and I wanted that to be part of my instrument, so I experimented with that. Secondly, the cello strings are heavy and the distances are relatively long. When I practised a gamaka, it was very heavy on my hand because of the friction and spaces. I decided to use a smaller cello and that made a huge difference. I also added one extra high playing string.

Certain aspects of Indian music like zamzama, murki and other embellishments were perhaps not very easy to express on the cello?

Absolutely! All these embellishments are essential to Indian music. It is often said that Indian music is not so much about the notes but what is between the notes – meend for instance. The nuances are important. You can practise something a million times but unless you feel it is your own, you can’t be true to it. That is a process and it becomes part of who you are as an artist. For that, apart from practising, you need to listen to a lot of music and discover your expression and the expression of your instrument.

When was your first performance of Indian music?

In 2001, in New Delhi. The response was very warm. There has been a certain amount of scepticism since it is a new instrument and the artist is not from India. But when people hear the music, it surprises them. I have received tremendous support from hardcore traditionalists and purists of this music.

Any performance memory that you really cherish?

I was performing at the Maihar festival. An elderly gentleman who had heard all the legendary masters of Indian music, was completely fascinated with my music. He came to me and said, “Who says that Saraswati is Indian!” It was incredibly inspiring. There are many such cherished memories of performances. No one may actually say anything to you, but you can feel it when you have connected deeply with the audience, the instrument, with others on stage. Then you move out of that space of just being a musician and into a larger realm. It could be an entire concert, 20 seconds of a performance or even alone in my music room. Those are the moments that make the journey beautiful.

How did you come up with the idea of a string quartet for Indian music?

When I first moved to India and started training in Indian classical music seriously, I didn’t even listen to any other genre of music for six years so that I could internalise it as part of myself. When Shubhendra and I got together, we would practise and compose together. That’s how our project East Marries West came into existence. I felt more confident about my abilities as a composer. It had always been a dream of mine to have Indian classical music in a string quartet format, not as a completely composed piece, but to keep the Western ensemble format and blend that with the Indian raga and tala system. We did not use the tabla or tanpura. All these different roles were performed within the string quartet and a different set of musical concepts is used here. For instance, instead of the tanpura, we use the ancient concept of moorchhana, where you modulate without changing the scale. You get a completely different atmosphere. I would love to repeat this performance in India.

[The Madras String Quartet, led by V.S. Narasimhan, and including a cellist, has been performing Carnatic music for quite sometime. See Sruti 309 for cover story. – Editor]

I am reminded of Baba Allaudin Khan’s Maihar band. Is there a conceptual connect with that vision?

That is very interesting, I believe he got these ideas when he was in Kolkata. At that time there were other people experimenting with building Indian instruments in Western ensembles. The cello was actually used in the Maihar band. I was researching about the history of the cello and its arrival in India. There are different dates and in Kolkata it is supposed to have arrived in early 18th century with the Britishers. On the shipping list it is mentioned as ‘bass viol’ which is the predecessor of the cello. Interestingly, the cellists from the Maihar band used to hold their instrument in the position in which bass viol was held. Consequently the viol was used in theatre and maybe that is how Baba connected with it and introduced it into the band.

You have trained with different guru-s and you play an instrument that is unique and new to Indian music. What is your teaching methodology?

I love to teach because it forces me to verbalise what I have found out in my own practice. That is very helpful. I usually follow the systematic approach of Maihar gharana. One aspect I find very significant is the use of small compositions and lot of sargam-s. A sargam made by a master musician can be really beautiful. Baba’s sargam-s, for instance, are such gems of music, simple and beautiful. Chopin in Western classical music wrote many etudes; we can say that the sargam is conceptually parallel to that. You learn a lot of the musicality, the raga, the tala, all at the same time through sargam-s. This is one element that is quite specific.

What is the focus of your Ph.D. research?

It is part of a performance-oriented research involving innovative composition, concert series, recording and a text. I will be focusing on the journey of the Indian cello in the perspective of Indian music as a global art form.

Tell us about your upcoming album.

The album called The Indian Cello is a pure Indian classical album. I have played raga-s Bheempalasi, Behag and Bibhas. Tabla is by Durjay Bhowmick. It is my first full length solo album with the Indian cello. It will be produced by Underscore Records and Pt. Rajan and Sajan Mishra will be releasing it. Alongside, I have also organised a panel discussion on Indian music as a global platform.

(Shrinkhla Sahai is a radio professional, arts researcher, and writer)

Birthdays & Anniversaries


Generation Next

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By KS Kalidas

Aditi Krishnaprakash

Twenty two-year old violinist Aditi Krishnaprakash from Mysore, only child of her parents, was allowed full freedom to pursue her interest in music. The parents are passionate lovers of classical music. Aditi’s maternal granduncle was the well-known gottuvadya vidwan of yesteryear, Varahaswamy Iyengar.

Captivated by the vioilin even as a child of four after she heard a Hindustani violin concert of N. Rajam, Aditi started violin lessons with H.K. Narasimha Murthy, a staff artist in AIR-Mysore and a disciple of violin maestro M.S. Gopalakrishnan. This lasted for about twelve years. Chitravina Ravikiran used to perform often at Mysore and Aditi was greatly attracted to his music. She took the liberty of writing to him directly, expressing the wish to learn from him and was readily accepted as a student. For the past six years she has been shuttling between Mysore and Chennai for classes whenever she can take a break from her studies. She does not like learning through Skype and believes that the only way to learn music is directly from the guru on a one-to-one basis. She considers Ravikiran a complete musician-cum-guru and feels that nobody can explain the finer points of music better than he. Among the many compositions that Ravikiran has taught her are some of the most beautiful songs of Oothukadu Venkata Kavi, the propagation of which is his priority.

Aditi is quite content being a violinist rather than turn into a vocalist, a fad we see often these days. She also prefers being an accompanist rather than play solo. However, she does play solo concerts when specifically asked by organisers. Besides many cities and towns in Karnataka, she has also performed in many other places in India. Chennai too has featured her in many concerts. She has, among others, accompanied several senior artists like R.K. Srikantan, S. Shankar, O.S. Arun, Bhushani Kalyanaraman and Sangeetha Sivakumar. She is a recipient of scholarships from the Dept. of Culture, Govt. of India, the Sangeeta Nrutya Academy and NCERT. She was adjudged the best violinist in the Spirit of Youth series of the Music Academy, Madras in 2007, and was also awarded the T.T. Rangaswamy Memorial Award for the best concert in the junior category in 2008. She received the best accompanist award from the Bangalore Gayana Samaja in 2005. She was graded ‘B’ in AIR directly after her success in its music competition in 2007 and in August 2011 she appeared for upgradation and was placed in ‘A’ grade, bypassing the intermediate ‘B-High’ grade, something that is rare.

Academically, she holds an engineering degree in computer science. How well she will engage in two careers simultaneously – music and engineering – only time will tell.

(The author is a mridanga vidwan, connoisseur of classical music, and a keen follower of young talent)

Birthdays & Anniversaries

Birthdays & Anniversaries

Sarangi playing needs dedication

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Ramesh Misra

By Meena Banerjee

The sarangi, despite being closest to the human voice and by far the best instrument to emote the gayaki-ang, is rarely heard now. But in some important concerts in Kolkata in the past few years, the sarangi’s sensitive strains were noticeably audible while accompanying khayal-s, thumri-s, tabla solo and Kathak dance. The instrument was also in the news in this region when the Central Sangeet Natak Akademi award was bestowed upon its eminent exponent Pandit Ramesh Misra.

“This award, presented to me by the President of India, will definitely encourage younger sarangi players. This is Ma Kali’s blessings. My listeners have raised me to this level. I am grateful to Kolkata,” said a visibly moved Ramesh Misra. For a person belonging to Uttar Pradesh, he speaks flawless Bengali, revealing his long association with the city of joy. “Yes, when my father Ramnath Misra joined the Rabindra Bharati University as a faculty member, we shifted from Benaras, my birthplace, in 1957. I grew up here. Then from 1985, I started touring abroad. The sarangi’s amazing resemblance to the human voice intrigued Westerners. They started showing interest and that made me shift base to New York. I have a few American and Japanese students there. But I have a small house in the suburbs of Kolkata and I return home every winter.”

“I am a student by nature. I love teaching and performing and keep learning even during concerts. I love to pick up everything that inspires my imagination. And since my instrument is literally ‘sau-rangi’ – with a hundred hues, it absorbs it all lovingly.”

“It all started pretty early. My father initiated me into sarangi playing, then my uncles Hanuman Prasad Misra and the late Gopal Misra – the finest musicians of the Benaras gharana – trained me with great care. Later I observed and kept learning the finer nuances of every gharana and each musician’s style while accompanying them on the sarangi. This is absolutely essential for an accompanying artist, even for a soloist, for the simple reason that the sarangi is capable of emoting anything associated with vocalism. Gatkari (the whole gamut of instrument playing) too is not beyond its reach. Many play in the gatkari-ang these days. But jod and jhala-playing is a different game altogether.”

“There was a time when no dhrupad recital was complete without sarangi accompaniment. But the dhrupad-ang is almost extinct now. To understand all these aspects better I continue to learn from Pandit Ravi Shankar.”

Misra’s profound knowledge of Indian classical, folk and light music and his vast experience of music performance and recording are amazing. His mesmerising melodies can be heard in sitar maestro Ravi Shankar’s Live in Kremlin and the Grammy-nominated album Legacy produced by sarod maestro Ali Akbar Khan. He also participated in Aerosmith’s much acclaimed album Nine Lives and in the production of Concert for George at Royal Albert Hall in London.

“The tonal quality of my sarangi is different,” Misra smiled happily. “I am glad it impresses the listener. I worked hard on it. I like to keep it as intimately tender as possible. To get the desired results I went on experimenting with the strings. Some Afghani friends helped me with gut-strings of the harp and the rabab. A German student of Ustad Ali Akbar Khan gave me a variety of strings and I kept on trying. Now I can say that my sarangi is different. I do not mind sharing my secret with you. Nobody asked me about it earlier.”

“Apart from this aspect, my sarangi remains the same old, traditional instrument – extremely demanding because of its fretless nature and its playing technique, which involves bending the finger and working with the nail, next to the cuticle. The third finger is used most often while playing, the middle and index fingers next. On rare occasions, the little finger is used. Melody is the most important aspect of this instrument played with a bow made of horse-hair. But virtuosity too plays an important role as the musician has to prove his worth – sometimes in a small filler piece while playing for commercial recordings or during the solo rounds of a classical recital.”

“Going by the response from the listeners, I do not believe the sarangi has lost its charm. It is an ancient instrument that reached its zenith during the Moghul period. Even dhrupad exponents needed sarangi accompaniment. The socioeconomic changes pushed it towards the singing girls’ quarters which were considered infamous. It was the most convenient instrument to support singers. You could change the scale easily, though it demands tremendous practice. That is how thumri became associated with the sarangi.”

“Since it is a difficult instrument to master, very few come forward to learn the sarangi. Besides, accompanists always get sidelined by the main artists. Soloists like Pandit Ram Narayan, Ustad Sultan Khan, Dhruba Ghosh and a few others have made a lot of difference in this regard. Roshan Ali’s technique is extremely sweet. He is the only veteran sarangi player Kolkata has now. But he tends to lose contact with his own place and fraternity. The next generation is coming in the form of their sons and nephews. So is my son Rohan. A few young sarangi players like Sarvar Hussain show great promise. Musicians like Pankaj Misra and Ramlal need to learn other idioms of classical music like dhrupad and dhamar.”

“I find that foreigners make very dedicated students. They give it their best shot, whereas here in India, the students keep asking for more palta-s. The guru’s assessment does not count. There is lack of humility; or perhaps, monetary problems force youngsters to chase organisers even before completing their lessons. My earnest appeal to aspiring musicians is: “Continue to learn constantly”.

Birthdays & Anniversaries

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