Ust Amir Khan-Inspiration for Generations - Page 2

The Making Of A Maestro

Amir Khan was perhaps the only great Ustad (maestro) who did not receive his basic training in any particular Gharana (school, literally family tradition). The training prepares the pupil's voice to fit the distinctive style of singing of the Gharana and its treatment of specific ragas through various bandishes (compositions). Lacking systematic training, a complete outsider had little chance of becoming a maestro. Amir Khan, however, was not a complete outsider. His father, Shamir Khan, came from a family of instrumentalists, settled in Indore, and played both the Sarangi and the Veena. The Sarangi is usually played as an accompaniment to vocal music and most Sarangi players have a thorough grounding in vocal music. Indeed both the famous singers Abdul Karim Khan and Bade Gulam Ali Khan were expert Sarangi players who achieved greater fame in vocal music. Shamir Khan taught his young son several bandishes in various ragas; he also taught him the principles of Khandameru (Meerkhand) tradition of various permutations of the notes. Shamir Khan's veena training under Chajju Khan of Gwalior had taught him some Dhrupad as well. Thus the early training from his father inculcated elements of the Gwalior tradition of both Dhrupad and Khayal into Amir Khan's musical foundations. Amir Khan did learn to play the Sarangi, but his heart was not in it. He much preferred to sing. The famous Ustad Rajab Ali Khan of the Bhendibazar Gharana was an old friend of Shamir Khan and was a regular and a welcome guest at the Shamir Khan house in Irtdore. He took great interest in the budding vocalist and helped him in voice training as well as in several matters of technique. What was equally important is that he encouraged Amir Khan to pursue Khayal singing. Amir Khan's general education in a school of languages and literature taught him Hindi, Urdu, Sanskrit and Classical Persian. He greatly admired poetry, in particular the Sufi poets in Persian. But music became a driving interest occupying most of his time and attention. He was not satisfied with the bandishes he had inherited; one result of this dissatisfaction was that he composed - at an incredibly early age of fifteen - the song "Lagey la manwa" in the raga Malkauns. But inspiration is a miserly goddess, making fresh compositions a rare source. Amir Khan started supplementing his stock of bandishes by collecting from every possible source, paying if need be, for learning specific compositions that appealed to him. In this way he collected a large number of bandishes, an important source being Ustad Aman Ali Khan of the Bhendibazar Gharana. Bandishes are only the raw material, the finished product needs a style of one's own. In this, Amir Khan was greatly influenced by two masters of the Kirana Gharana. Abdul Karim Khan's style of singing gave listeners the impression that songs were devotional, that music was a mode of worship, a means of expressing reverence for the wonder that was God's creation - a philosophy that permeated Sufi poetry and musical compositions greatly admired by Amir Khan. Abdul Wahid Khan, the other great master of the Kirana Gharana, had developed his own version of music as meditation. In vilambit (slow tempo), Wahid Khan sang to a very slow Jhumra taal, which allowed him greater scope for developing the emotional content of the raga. Amir Khan sought to incorporate this technique of vistar (development) in his own Khayals. A legend has it that Amir Khan was driven out by Wahid Khan denying him any training from the master, that he eaves-dropped on the Ustad teaching his disciples and that the celebrated vilambit Khayals of Amir Khan are but exact copies of Wahid Khan's presentations. This view never bothers to explain how Amir Khan's treatment of the raga Marwa with long vilambit development - one of his most remarkable achievements - can exhibit the same features as his Darbari Kanara. That Amir Khan admired Wahid Khan's Darbari Kanara is common knowledge, but neither Wahid Khan nor any other earlier Ustad had ever treated Marwa as a raga capable of lengthy elaboration. I once asked Amir Khan about the degree of Wahid Khan's influence. His answer was that to start with, when he was seeking his own path in vilambit vistar, the degree of influence was substantial; once he could see how to put Wahid Khan's ideas into shape in his own way, the paths diverged. But that is always the case, he said. Somebody gives you a start in business, where you end is always your problem.

But legends are often stronger than facts. When the non-gharana upstart is being exposed as a copyist, who cares about trifles like facts?

The Ustad In Full Flower

In 1951, when I first heard Amir Khan, he had already evolved his own distinctive style. He had an enormous presence as he sat down to sing, indeed even as he entered, at 6 ft. 2 inches very tall for an Indian, with the face of an intellectual. He sat straight up with crossed legs and he sang with his eyes closed with a slow graceful movement of his hands and minimal distortion of mouth. It all looked like an exercise in self-restraint, perhaps a yoga exercise to induce composure. He first sang a vilambit Khayal in Darbari Kanara followed by a drut composition, the whole thing taking about ninety minutes. After the applause someone in the audience asked for a thumri. I vividly remember Amir Khan's response. With folded hands he thanked everybody for listening to him with such attention and care. But, "as is well known", he said, "I cannot sing thumris. Even so, as you think it fit to ask me to sing something else, I shall present a short piece in a Carnatic raga - Hamsadhwani. And he sang the composition he had acquired from Aman Ali Khan "Lagey lagan, sakhi pati sang". His vilambit vistar in very slow tempo emphasized the emotional content of the raga, the note by note development of a complete picture of the raga built up the atmosphere of Dhyana (meditation). The vistar was distinctly a part of the khayal in pattern but the structural similarity to alap in Dhrupad could not be missed. The Jor ang was mirrored by a passage of Sargam, not just a repetition of taans in terms of the note names but as an independent part of the song. Even when vilambit taans took over, the mood of meditation was not disturbed. In the drut Khayals, he presented a mixture of raga vistar interspersed with taans. A special feature of his taans was the use of successive notes in two octaves, moving effortlessly from one to the other. Ornamental bits of taans were used as highlights with restraint, lest they disturb the raga picture.

The Ustad without a gharana had to wait long for recognition, but in a way the late recognition allowed him larger scope for creating his own style. In an era when artistes have to live by public recitals, Amir Khan is one of the great examples of the resistance to cultural erosion through playing to the gallery. His refusal to sing thumris was part of this resistance, another was that when requested to sing small pieces that he had sung for films, he would sing the first line and then with folded hands apologise for having forgotten the rest. He was too courteous to issue direct refusals. In private he held that the lighter moods of such songs were not consistent with his approach to Khayals. But the major item in his resistance was his absolute refusal to make any compromise in his style of singing in order to cater to popular taste.

The Ustad As Inspiration

Historically, barring some exceptions, instrumentalists have tended to play straight gats, although in recent times it is not at all uncommon to find instrumental performances in the dhrupad format, comprising of lengthy alap section, which allows for elaborate raga development. Vilambit gats allow relatively less scope for individuality in raga development. It is perhaps worse for drut gats. Amir Khan's method of vistar acted as a source of inspiration to many instrumentalists who sought a larger scope for their music. One of the most touching tributes to Amir Khan was the obvious grief at his death of a young sitarist who said," How do I now learn about the depths that great music can explore" ? For vocalists, vilambit is no longer what it used to be in earlier days, and the strongest influence in effecting this change has been Amir Khan. While he had no direct disciples of any eminence, young singers of various persuasions listen to Amir Khan's tapes with serious interest, seeking elements which are potentially consistent with their respective styles. And then there are indeed some imitators. But trying to imitate Amir Khan is somewhat like an attempt to grasp quick-silver. Ustad Salamat Ali Khan of Pakistan once said to me that "one can never imitate Amir Khan, because through his songs Amir Khan established communion with the Almighty. Unless one can reach that level, one is hopelessly bound to explore technicalities, that is all". In support of his view he recounted the events in a musical soiree in New Delhi sometime in the mid-fifties. For some reason the instrumentalists played first - all the great names in instrumental music. This was to be followed by vocalists, Salamat Ali first and Amir Khan next (and the final item). "I was nervous about having to follow such a galaxy of stars, but Amir Khan Sahib gave me courage. Instruments are made by men, the human voice is the creation of God, he said. With a voice as good as yours, sing in God's name and you shall beat the instrumentalists hollow. I was so inspired by this that I sang as never before. There was great applause when I stopped but what counted most with me was that Khansahib embraced me as I came off the dais and congratulated me on my performance. But even so, the applause must have gone to my head. I felt that after my recital any music would sound flat and Khansahib was the next one; great as he was he surely could not match my performance. What are you going to sing, I asked him? Nothing very much really, he said, you have already won the battle for vocalists. I shall just sing Marwa for a while, that is all, the Khansahib said."

"Now we all know how well Amir Khan Sahib sang Marwa. But that night something happened, I don't know what! After he had sung for fifteen minutes the music transcended all that I had done; after half hour I could not even remember what I had sung a little while ago. It was as if there was the one raga, Marwa, in all music. Khansahib sang for about ninety minutes, stood up and left the stage and yet there was no applause, no movement in the audience. We were ail spellbound for a while before rounds and rounds of applause followed. No, there were no requests for another item, we all know better than that! What had happened? Simply a miracle. Look I have a very good voice, I work harder in my riaz (practice) than most, and they ail say I have talent. But these allow a man to go only so far. That evening Khansahib gave us a glimpse of how far one can go hand in hand with the Almighty !"

The Ustad As Innovator

The most important innovation of this great Ustad is of course his style of vistar. The standard mode in khayal is phrase by phrase vistar while Amir Khan used note by note vistar. He always used a very slow beat, a tempo that others employed only occasionally. The emphasis on mood, the high emotional content of his vistar, the contemplative style, all these are to be found individually in some Ustad or other, but not in such integrated form, and certainly not in our time. But apart from this, one can reckon two different items in Amir Khan's contribution to our musical tradition. The first, the creation of new ragas, was cut short by his untimely death even as he was paying greater attention to it. Only three ragas, Chandramadhur, Priya Kalyan and Khusro Todi exhaust the list. More important are his new compositions which include his songs in Bageshri Kanara (Madhyalaya), Bairagi, Bhopal Todi, Nand (Madhyalaya), Nat Bhairav, Megh and Marwa, and virtually every one of his Taranas. His Megh vilambit (Barkha Rita Ayee) and the accompanying tarana embodying a verse by the great Persian poet Hafiz are today a part of our musical tradition, so much so that the young take them for traditional compositions inherited from the nineteenth century. For the record, Amir Khan created detailed vilambit Khayals in Megh, Marwa, Abhogi and Nand ragas in which only short khayals were sung earlier. Perhaps a few words on his Taranas are in order. He would often follow a vilambit with a tarana in the same raga, substituting for a deut. These taranas have the same structure as drut Khayals and in the antara part he fitted some verses, usually Persian, whose words would match the mood of the raga. His taranas are thus distinct forms, quite different from those offered by other musicians. Earlier, Amir Khan's khayals did have taans that twisted and turned, glittered and soared. Perhaps having to contend with his great contemporary Bade Ghulam Ali Khan had something to do with this. Another influence in this regard was the complexity of Rajab Ali Khan's taans which Amir Khan greatly admired. With time, however, he used such taans less and less frequently. One reason could be that he wanted to spare his voice the strain that these taans imposed. He did adjust the scale of his voice downwards and in the last five or six years of his life he did simplify the presentation of some ragas. The simplification was not a process of combing out complex mans, it concerned the very structure of his presentation. In the opinion of several musicians these late versions are superior to the earlier ones as they establish the raga structure more directly. Whether this counts as a innovation is not clear. With age, others opted for vocal accompaniment by pupils, allowing some respite for the ageing voice. Amir Khan never had any vocal accompaniment because he felt this would disturb his contemplative mood. We really do not know whether it was maturity or fear of old age which induced Amir Khan to simplify his presentation of the ragas. In any case, this gives me an opening for one of my best anecdotes.

In 1971, some of us accompanied Amir Khan on a short trip to a small provincial town in West Bengal, where a friend of ours had a big bungalow. Someone produced a recording of Amir Khan in raga Yaman Kalyan, made in 1959. As it was being played the Ustad was listening with eyes closed, all attention. A friend remarked, sotto voce, that some taans were like the roar of a tiger. Perhaps not sotto enough, for while Amir Khan did not react to the remark there and then, later when'the music had ended he said to me," You know, there was a friend of mine in Bombay who had moved to Bangalore for reasons of business. I met him after twenty years when I visited Bangalore last year. He asked me if I still have a lion's voice after all these years? Hazoor, I said, Tab to main janwar tha. Ab to fir admio mein samil hoon! (I was a brute then, now at least I am reckoned amongst humans!) Everybody laughed, none as much as Amir Khan himself; he made a joke of it, but he was certainly sensitive about his voice."

The Ustad As A Man

Perfect manners, a highly cultivated diction in Urdu, gracious in all his dealings with people, reserved yet never standing on ceremony, kind to his disciples - all these constituted a shell that the public knew. Inside the hell there was this warm and affectionate person, often diffident and tentative, sometimes very sure of himself and of how much respect was due to him. An intellectual, yet for ever emphasizing emotions and the necessity of losing one's self in them; a great reverence for the mystery that we call life, but never devout in observance. Like most human beings, Amir Khan was a mass of contradictions. Amir Khan was a self conscious person. His analytical approach to everything exposed faults and fractures where others saw a smooth expanse. For one who was victorious in a thousand battles he was more insecure than most men. In his music he deliberately chose the razor's edge, quaking inside himself lest he slipped. He owned up to great tension everytime he gave a recital. "Main kinar chalta hoon na, thori si mein sab gazab ho ja sakta hain!" (I travel on the edge of the ravine, a small push can land me in trouble!). Most Ustads are close-fisted when it comes to music. They do not allow anybody to record their recitals. Amir Khan was very open minded about this. Then again, most Ustads have to be careful about their fees. Amir Khan's fees were the lowest of all contemporary Ustads of standing, and for music clubs his charges were very flexible - downwards. It would be a pity, he used to say, if only the rich can listen to good music. About his own music he took a lot of pride in what he had achieved. After his father died, he as the eldest son had to be the bread winner but be was still not a fully trained musician. On the other hand, he held that it was a great piece of luck that the microphone cum amplifier allowed his generation of musicians to develop a style where subtlety could be introduced. Earlier on, the Ustads bad to yell their heads off in order to be heard at public recitals so that they had to forswear the presentation of many things which they were good at. At least I did not have to do that, he said, and that is a great piece of luck. He had a strong sense of humour, only occasionally allied with malice. Inappropriateness of things, of events or of statements - he found very funny, particularly when good manners required that he should not notice any faux pas. Absolutely straight faced at the time, he would regale his friends later, telling them all about it. And he was always kind about whatever his friends did. He had some friends from the world of music, and there was a lot of others, like myself, who were drawn by music, but really belonging to another world, professionals of every description. He greatly enjoyed such friends. The world of music was short on cerebration, he felt, and he needed to sharpen his mind against his intellectual peers. Indeed he liked to ask questions about all sorts of things, a cerebral approach denies one the comfort of ignorance.

Even with all his friends he was a lonely man. Often after his riaz - I had the good fortune to be present at many such sessions - he would talk to me about musical points he was sorting out even then. I would listen, but understand only a tiny part of it. "You know how little I know about music. Why then do you talk to me about your musical ideas"? I once asked. "Because you listen and you do not want anything from me", he answered. Such is the price of eminence. Professor Deepak Banerjee.

Ustad Amir Khan

The death of Ustad Amir Khan in a tragic motor accident in Calcutta a few years ago (1974) has created a void in the world of Hindustani classical music. At the present time, when there is a dearth of such gifted artists, his death is an irreparable loss. Had he lived longer he would have had, at least, a number of able and talented disciples to carry on the tradition of his gharana.

In the last 25 years some artists have, by their revolutionary spirit, progressive outlook and creative faculties brought about radical changes in the style of presentation of classical music. Ustad Amir Khan was such an artist. Amir Khan disregarded the age-old, conventional traditions, and with his intelligence and talent evolved an entirely original style of presentation. He also succeeded in gaining the approval and recognition of critics and connoisseurs.

Amir Khan was born at Indore in 1912. Music was in his blood; his ancestors had been musicians in the Mughal courts. His father was an expert sarangi and veena player. A mehfil of Amir Khan's was always a pleasant experience. He had a very impressive and magnetic personality. At his concerts he would always sit in the posture of a yogi doing his tapasya, with closed eyes and deep meditation. He maintained the same position till the end of his concert. His smiling countenance, a total lack of gesticulation or facial distortion, his absolute concentration on the song, and the slow, gradual build-up of a raga picture invariably kept his audience completely engrossed.

He had, for accompaniment, two tanpuras tuned to perfection, a subdued harmonium and a tabla with a straight, simple but steady laya. An atmosphere of solemnity and tranquillity pervaded his concerts, in striking contrast with the noisy and sometimes unmusical gymnastic bouts some singers have with the tabla players that entertain listeners with acrobatics rather than providing them with aesthetic delight.

He had cultivated his voice till it was as exquisitely chiselled as a piece of sculpture. While presenting a raga he unfolded it with extreme skill, delicacy and purity. At times, when an ascending note appeared to be suspended in mid-air, he unexpectedly made a lightning play on that note, holding the audience spellbound. Because of his inborn, instinctive knowledge of avakash, kal and laya he was able to make his voice sound as if he was singing swaras from two different octaves simultaneously, treating his audience to a unique celestial experience.

His mastery over layakari and the swaras was complete. His taans though complicated and full of artistic twists, were executed in an easy and graceful way. He had an amazingly wide range of pitch, and he moved majestically through this span with his liquid golden voice. Listeners were always favourably impressed by his gayaki and skilled display of tonal beauty.

He did not agree with the popular notion that the tarana was just a tongue-twisting exercise with a meaningless cluster of words, involving a lot of voeal jugglery in an ever-increasing tempo. He always put into a tarana a Persian couplet interwoven in the apparently meaningless 'Dir tun, tan, din yalali, yalallum', and honestly believed that these syllables did have some mysterious and mystic import. According to him it was the Persian scholar Amir Khusro who invented the tarana. Amir Khan was very keen on establishing this theory by carrying out research to unravel the hidden meanings of the tarana. But cruel destiny snatched him away and his mission was left unaccomplished.

Absolutely fantastic articles Bobda. THANK YOU!!
Today I played Khan Sahib's Lalit, Hamsadhwani and Megh over and over again. There can never be another like him, though I find Rashid Khan copying his style to some extent.

Originally posted by: punjini

Absolutely fantastic articles Bob da. THANK YOU!!
Today I played Khan Sahib's Lalit, Hamsadhwani and Megh over and over again. There can never be another like him, though I find Rashid Khan copying his style to some extent.

punjini ji,

Thank you also for start because there are only 5/6 people here will start these type of classic thread. I had some old picture I am looking for it in my drive,as soon I find it will post.

Audio samples from the masters of Hindustani music

Thanks, I am hearing the audio samples too. But I find them so short! Wish I could hear the complete pieces...

Originally posted by: punjini

Thanks, I am hearing the audio samples too. But I find them so short! Wish I could hear the complete pieces...

Yes they are very short .