Their names are Khans!

oh well borrowed from a cliched Bollywood title right enough yet this post is all not-so-all-about-Bollywood..
..while the whole of India(media) is obsessed with the Khans -Aamir , Salman, Shahrukh and so on and so forth and fighting over what these Khans represent, their views on religions, tolerance or otherwise, if they want to live in India or move away to safer havens, the narrow, short sighted cult (read Bollywood) they represent churning out movies that neither represent India truly nor honestly for the most part, let us Indians for a moment remember some of these Khans(and some other Muslim surnames, you get the point!) for what they represented -
Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan - an Indian prior to Aug 14th 1947 when there was no Pakistan but more importantly perhaps the best Hindustani classical voice ever to have lived ( thats just my opinion but try listening to his Ka karun sajni aye baalam and we can sit down and debate smile emoticon )
Ustad Abdul Karim Khan - remember the Carnatic rendition of Rama nee samaanamevaru.. yes a Muslim North Indian rendering a composition by the South Indian Brahmin Tyagaraja..
Ustad Amjad Ali Khan, Ustad Vilayat Khan and their sarods and sitars that echoed the ethos of my ancient land where every diversity is accepted, celebrated and integrated from the mists of time...
Ustad Bismillah khan - whose Shehnai filled the narrow alleys of Benaras and the inner sanctum of the Kashi Vishwanath temple there and on the banks of the river Ganga and whose favourite diety was the Hindu goddess Saraswathi... whose shehnai recitals has been broadcast during moments of joy and grief countless times on TV..
Ghulam Ali - whose rendition of "Baaju Bandh Khul Khul Jaaye" - a thumri that is so highly suggestive and erotic in nature despite its divine connotation,sometimes being awkward to listen to even in solitude! - but sadly who was denied a chance to perform his art in my country in the recent days.. shocking... surely there is some conspiracy somewhere.. note his ghazals only come a mere second in comparison with his highly trained classical knowledge..
talking of ghazals ,Mehdi Hassan - the ghazal genius who only had to sing "Kesariya Baalam padharo maro desh re" and that would just suffice...why do we need this Bollywood Khan's Incredible India campaign at all when a Rajasthani folkore can invite people to visit our beautiful country and experience the richness of her music, dance and traditions?
Ustad Barkat Ali Khan, Ustad Amir Khan and many many more, some of whose magic am still trying to figure out thanks to my recent marathon pursuit of Hindustani music recitals...
..and of course how can I forget my favourite - the one and only Ustad Rashid Khan whose voice gave me goosebumps 10 years ago and still does..- he mesmerises us with this emotionally charged rendition everytime but the best for me is his jugalbandi with the Hindu brahmin ( again!) Pandit Bhimsen Joshi where the two artistes sang like they were one soul, one a veteran another the relatively amateur, yet the nod of the veteran when the younger one sang a passage like a flash of lightning just before the first monsoon rains commence, explains so beautifully the mutual respect for the divine art of classical music age,religion notwithstanding...
Yes there are many such Khans and Alis India has produced.. today when modern India is arguing (read that wasting time!) over the stupidity of the Bollywood Khans, let us try for a second to remember these other Khans, let us pay homage to their timeless art, their contribution to our country's music, to their Indianness, bow down in respect to to their sacrifice and commitment to the one and the only religion that is true in this world - music!
Right.. back to "Baju band khul khul jaaye, sawariya ne kaisa jadu daala re". Oh boy, am I blushing!

-Rekha

Confession of a student of Carnatic music of several years..

This is an honest confession. I would be lying to myself and to whatever that little music I have been gifted with in this birth if I do not come clean on this.  Carnatic music is what I learn as many of you know. It is my longest association in this life after my parents and sister. Over the years my association with this form of music has been the single most stable factor in my life. Although not a professional singer, the one thing I have been doing constantly is learn. I owe it all to my gurus and Skype :) what would it have been if not for them ? 

But that is not the point am trying to confess today. Carnatic music is imbibed into my soul now and has no chance of escaping, thank God for that. There is always a thread in the brain, subconsciously processing every tune , every melody, drawing parallels, guessing the ragam, the rhythm, almost second nature. But... but, on a good day, and I dont know how to put this without sounding offensive to .. well myself perhaps, but on a good day , I have to admit -  Hindustani music is more more lovely!

So lovely, I regret not learning it to the point am in tears! I envy the voice production techniques, the gamaks and the khayals and most importantly the freedom of expression.  Barring some exceptional musicians, cross over has never been that appealing and that simply because of the vast distinction between these two styles of our music. The vocal technique, the raga handling and the approach are entirely different and any attempts at cross over have only resulted in pale imitation am afraid! Exceptions of course, but a handful! But that is just me, please do not think am being prejudiced against any artiste or musician! This is my confession , not a critic review!

Our music of the south is divine, it  is soaked in devotion and is the ultimate tool I think for a human being to attempt to try and realize the meaning of it all, an attempt, thats all.  It is like life carnatic music is - demands a balance in melody and rhythm. It seeks confirmation, embodies it. It is very comforting to confirm I admit. To accept unconditionally the greatness of  the artist/poet who pre-created song, the metre of the lyrics, the exquisite tapestry of the rhythm, the nuances despite the strict notation and yet to create that small nook of a space where one can fly free with improvisation - is a wonderful wonderful thing. Every carnatic musician is excited about that small niche wherein they can be their own, it is our desire and our constant bottleneck, at least that is where my mental block lies! Of the navarasas we Indians so proudly talk of in art, carnatic music undoubtedly majors in Bhakthi, karuna ..

But that beautiful music of the North, oh what can I say ?  Shringara rasa it is. Beauty, love, poetry, art, finesse, mellow and the ultimate tool for freedom of expression.  Where carnatic beckons a mere mortal to attain glimpses of the divine and sometimes become close to one, the Hindustani form elevates the mortal to a supremely refined human being. It opens the floodgates of freedom of expression. It says - "here is this empty canvas, go ahead and do what you like! There are but very few basic rules - do not paint outside the canvas for then it is no painting but push yourself to the boundaries of self expression." It is all about making us more human, all about exploring the the
non-confirmist traits we all possess, all about breaking taboo and seeking out that which feels like is unattainable.  It is that added playful touch to a wonderful nuance in a melody or that extra punch to a note to insist an emotion or that fine balance of the voice when rendering thumris that express unrequited or forbidden love or that beautiful altering of the pace in a span of two lines to convey the sense of urgency - everything about Hindustani music is human, very human! It sets us free, uninhibited and opens out the pores that clog certain areas of the pre-conditioned human brain..

This is just me and I would certainly not prefer one over the other or have a bias over which is greater. It is not always about which is greater. Sometimes, it is just what it is. What one feels about a thing. The point is to confess with honesty, for honesty is truth , truth is art , art is love and  music is love in search of a word!

No, I am not going to change my blog's name to Bilawal, it is Shankarabharanam and shall always be but some days I may hear a Bilawal when I listen to a Shankarabharanam and wish I was in utopia!

-r


 

a rendevous for a hopeless romantic!

..graffiti on the walls as the channel train rolls into Gare du Nord
a rude and nonchalant response to a "un(e) carnet sil vouz plais"
a stench-filled RER passing through the suburbs into the centre
a character scarved, perfumed and chic, yet scruffy and smelly..
..of tobacco, garlic, cheese and wine!

I smell a freshly baked baguette,croissant,a cafe au lait,
a caffe, a bar tabac, a brasserie round the corner everywhere..
a waiter so annoyed when asked for a dish with no meat
and more annoyed  when I sent back a dish for it had oeuf!
..and yet when the dish came back anew,oh boy! did I devour every last bit like I had never eaten before!

..a man in his sixties in his own world like I never exist,
not caring a damn, not a look , not a glance..
yet when in broken French I ask for the nearest metro to the Tour..
an affectionate arm over my shoulder, another pointing to my map..
a face leaned right into mine,making me flinch and blush..
a gregarious voice crooning into my ears-the quickest way is to walk!
..then awkward parting smiles, a merci , an au revoir and a kiss
that might well have been French just had I let it be!

.. I walk from the Arc to the Concorde along the Champs..
peer inside a Cartier, a Chanel, a Guerlain , a LouisVitton..
and hopping into a Bateuex Mouches, I float along the Seine... 
gaping in awe at  la Louvre, Le Notre Dame, Hotel De Ville and Musee D'Orsay..
.. and at night I ride up the Tour De Eiffel as if in a trance
mesmerised, enchanted and hopelessly in love with the City of light!

..with a friend, a niece, the spouse ,year after year, this journey do I make..
a ritual in Rue de Bourgogne over a galette and a crepe au citron,
a tagine in a Moroccon I can never forget!
listen in across tables, lip-sync with the locals when they speak and smile at their eccentricities,
crack up when the metro arrives in R(H)ome and Mir(h)omil..
and  always say the H out loud when taking a Sor(h)tie!!!(ALWAYS)

be fascinated by the priceless expression on a crazy gal's face
as she saw the shimmering lights of the Tour Eiffel for the very first time..
or sometimes take a solitary walk along the boulevards
smelling the fleurs in a marche, hoping for a vente in the shops..
peering into the windows of the apartment blocks, wondering what must be going on in their Parisien lives!


Paris - I am not done with yet, for there is lots more left to see,
the catacombs, the museums and the cathedrals that beckon me.
where looking over from the hills of the Sacre Couer, I feel free..
where every thought feels like a poem on a rhyming spree..
a city whose light shines even on the other side of the sea
bleeds today like a wounded prey on flee..

Here I seek yet once more, a rendevous with this place..
Time and again a journey, I promise to undertake,
fearlessly and with pride in my heart ablaze,
I shall seek out the next cafe for a piece of rich chocolate cake.. 


-r