Unlike Western civilization, Indian subcontinent did very little to preserve the history of its classical arts. Instead, the Indians remained engrossed in formulating a Sanskriti (culture) which grew up in the lap of nature. History or archival collections, therefore, had very little significance; because the word Itihaas (history) literally means ‘this definitely was’ (iti=this + ha=definitely + aas=was). On the other hand, the word sanskriti indicates ‘a continuous process of evolving sacraments (sanskaaras)’. This sacrament-based exercise of being cultured, in its constant effort to unravel the mysteries of nature, developed its unique philosophy of transcending human frailties to inculcate divinity and kept evolving according to Dharma (way of life). This process of evolution was aware of its basic sanskaaras. Like the refrain of a bandish during the badhat of a raga, it kept coming back to its roots before finding a new vista. This process knew why it followed a certain path and what its ultimate goal was; and music led the way once.

 

Unfortunately, the strong alien influences and widespread illiteracy amongst artisan-clans in Northern India have diluted this precious process to such an extent now, that most of the erudite devotees of music are not even aware of their art’s basics – leave alone their rich philosophy and their far reaching effects on human body and psyche. Most musicians, now, claim it to be only a ‘Karant Vidya’ (practical knowledge) and, therefore, ‘Baat karne ka kya faida (why waste breath in discussions)?’ is their clichéd reaction. Under the circumstances, usually, social and historical references help trace back the roots; but we have very little to fall back upon in this arena of classical music as well.

 

Fortunately, memoires by a few legendary musicians, led by Ustad Alladiya Khan, Prof BR Deodhar, Pandit Ravi Shankar, Pandit Buddhadev Dasgupta and multifaceted connoisseurs like Amiya Nath Sanyal, Dhurjati Prasad Mukherji, Kumar Prasad Mukherji, Shiela Dhar, Amar Mishra and several others continue to bridge the yawning gap between the understanding of socio-cultural environment which influenced music and formulated the practical application of this art which is potent enough to transform not only the musician but also his listeners. But, even the second quarter of 20th century, ridden with socio-cultural and political upheavals and considered to be the ‘best and worst period of music’ and which, centuries after the first influence of Muslim culture, once again changed the entire panorama of Hindustani classical music, did not see any authentic document of facts, totally dedicated to music and its evolution in the wake of industrialisation in India, emergence of corporate giants, technical advancement and resultant interaction with the rest of the world.

 

This was the era when the last of the Moghuls saw their states being disintegrated. Their darbars could not offer the rich patronage of yore to the ustads and Bai-Sahibas (professional women singers) any longer. But while Baiji’s flourished, thanks to their impeccable tehzeeb soaked in music which charmed the music-loving upper crust of the modern society, they remained ostracised and stigmatised by the public. Even the Mehfils organised by Wajid Ali Shah, the exiled Nawab of Avadh who lived in the Metiaburz area of the then posh Kidderpore, could not help change the scene. On the other hand, ustads huddled in small towns and villages for safe shelter for their music and their cocooned life had helped crystallise the rich tradition of Gharanas in the 19th century. Many gharanedar musicians would accompany the Baijis on the sarangi or tabla for livelihood while vocalists would frequent the Kothas in search of authentic traditional compositions.

 

Certain parts of Chittaranjan Avenue were witness to this fact till as late as 1960s! Organisers of conferences and producers of recording companies had to frequent these forbidden areas in search of some legendary vocalists and their equally famous accompanists. As a result, Hindustani classical music developed a love-hate relationship with the common man who appreciated its beauty but hesitated to own it openly due to its close proximity to the Red Light areas. So called noble families maintained double standards – the men, like the members of Ramkanai Adhicary household (famously known as Jhulanbari of Bahubazar) or Chhatubabu-Latubabu, would learn and practice music as a hobby and organise Mehfils or Baithaks, but the ladies with ‘genteel upbringing’ were allowed only to appreciate it from behind the purdah or encourage their men-folk by learning the art by listening!

 

The early life of the late thumri exponent Naina Devi, gorgeously beautiful granddaughter of the legendary Brahmosamaj leader Keshav Sen who became Maharani Nilina Ripjit Singh of Kapurthala by marriage, is a burning example of this. Her passion for music was sparked by one such Mehfil which, as a little girl, she witnessed by chance. Later, to learn and earn a place amongst women singers, she had to give up on her royal status and hide behind the ‘Devi’ signature. All for music – that was not offered to her on a platter. She willingly acquired it at a heavy price; without regrets.     

 

I strongly believe that music, hailed as Mohini Vidya in our scriptures, is capable of casting its spell on its own; but coupled with obstacles born out of mysterious stigmas, it churns up a deadly concoction – enough to lure even gharanedar musicians like Bade Ghulam Ali Khan out of his sarangi days, Amir Khan out of his marriage with Zeenat (daughter of sitar wizard Inayat Khan and sister of Vilayat Khan) or a commoner like little Bhimsen Joshi out of his home’s security and love. The era is stuffed with numerous such stories of Junoon (passionate love), further sparked by the monetary benefits and fame offered by the Gramophone Company (since 1902) and the advent of (Talkie) Film Industry, All India Music Conferences, All India Radio and the export of Indian classical music.

 

All of these acted as the mythical ‘pied piper’ and gradually lured ustads out of their safe but isolating holes, offered them new vistas to showcase their art and new methods of earnings. Initially, many, like Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan were reluctant to ‘fall in the trap of wires’, lest they lost their voice or music; but an intellectual like Ustad Amir Khan took to microphones like fish to water and changed the format of classical recitals forever; so much so that several instrumentalists followed his footprints to befriend the new technology and make amend to their instruments accordingly. Ustad Vilayat Khan was one such genius whose sitar innovations helped incorporate khayal vocalism to the erstwhile dhrupad-anga based instrumentalism.

 

A fresh crop of instrumentalists, groomed by Baba Alauddin Khan, emerged from his Maihar stable while Bengal produced the jewels of Imdadkhani, Bishnupur (string and vocal) and Farukhabad (tabla) Gharanas apart from several others. Since the values of middle class did not allow it to step in the film industry of this era, theme of the films had to focus on classical only; firstly because the general filmgoers would appreciate the life sketch of emperors, saints, poets, musicians more than mere love stories because this, generally, used to be an occasion for outing of the entire family; secondly and more importantly, no female vocalist or actor, apart from the gharanedar professionals, was available for films. Exceptions were there, but very few – like Naina Devi’s sister Sadhana Bose and a few others.    

 

Gradually, the educated and enlightened Bengali commoners inspired their children to learn music from ustads and thus allowed classical music to enter their living rooms. But music as profession was unthinkable; still. However, generations of Bengalis came under the spell of legendary performers and gurus like Satyakinkar Bandopadhyay, Gyan Goswami, Bhishmadev Chattopadhyay, Girija Shankar Chakraborty, Gokul Nag, Radhika Mohan Maitra, Jnan Prakash Ghosh – to name a few. The latter’s Dixon Lane residence was a literally transit guest house of almost every musician who came down to Calcutta. As such any time was music time and, therefore his senior disciples like Shankar Ghosh, Shyamal Bose, Kanai Dutta would stay there for any impromptu session of immortal music of the legendary musicians, by the musicians, for the musicians!              

 

Though, following the footsteps of the legendary Uday Shankar’s institution in Almorah, Sumitra Charatram, favourite daughter in law of industrialist Sir Shriram, had already established her cherished Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra at New Delhi by this time, the corporate world of India did not make its presence felt till 1970s in Bengal. Star system was unheard of and musicians were easily accessible to even college students; leave alone the professional organisers of baithaks and conferences. Though Mahajati Sadan was considered a prestigious venue for famed classical conferences like Tansen or Sadarang music festivals, cinema halls like Indira, Bijoli, Ujjwala etc became popular venues due to the existing infrastructure. Established in 1934, the All Bengal Music Conference began its journey from cinema halls.

All of these conferences attracted thousands of listeners who would sit through the nightlong soirees even outside the jam-packed halls on the roadside or on the tramlines with family and friends – as if in a picnic, a rare family outing in those days. Since these conferences were few in numbers but superior in quality with distinct and unalloyed gharana characteristics, people did not risk missing them. Thanks to the microphones and amplifiers, they could enjoy even the finest of musical nuances despite their distance from the stage.

 

The gramophone companies and All India Radio did a commendable job by developing the taste of the common man. AIR, under Keskar regime, catered to classical and light classical music only. Film songs were abandoned on the AIR. As a result film industry created a base in Radio Cylone and ventured to air Hindi film songs through Binaca Geetmala, anchored by Amin Sayani. This created a parallel group of listeners in the Hindi belt, but the common listeners in Bengal remained untouched and ‘unspoiled’. Instead many conservative households saw the safe method of earning name and fame through ‘Betar’ which, sans visuals, provided purdah between the artistes and their admirers. Probably that led the young and beautiful ladies like Dipali Nag, Meera Banerjee, Jaya Biswas, Malabika Kanan, Kalyani Roy and a host of others from ‘respected’ Bengali homes to step out as musicians. Through records and AIR broadcasts, their music reached all over India. Though very few knew them by face, they ruled the hearts of their fans. Among them Dipali Nag was the ‘First Lady’ of classical music who stepped on a public platform to give vocal support to her ustad, the legendary Faiyaz Khan. This was no less than blasphemy in those days!

 

But the scene was changing pretty fast. After India’s independence, the sovereign nation forged ahead to showcase its rich cultural heritage before the rest of the world with well-placed pride. The foundation was laid down by Uday Shankar’s dance group already. Armed with the best of musical taaleem, Bengal’s Young Turks like Ravi Shankar, Ali Akbar Khan, Nikhil Banerjee, Shankar Ghosh now led the way and began exporting exquisite Hindustani classical music outside India. Pandit Ravi Shankar’s exemplary first success in Monterey (USA) before 8000-strong Americans opened up a new chapter for musicians from all over India.

 

Music, appreciated in the West, now became a profitable business and honourable commodity. Several rich people now forced entry by doling out money to organisers to showcase their ‘talent’, however pedestrian, on prestigious platforms and in between two eminent musicians. Politicians, supported by corporate houses, became interested in music for obvious reasons and their interference started pressurising the organisers. Such malpractices were not new. Jealousy, insecurity, hunger for undivided lifelong attention – all are their root causes; and they exist since Chanakya’s days (as mentioned in Kautilya Arthashastra)! And yet music and musicians have never ceased to cast their spell on the listeners (in today’s context read ‘viewers’).