Anecdotal memoirs by Pt Jasraj himself - Page 2

Allah Meherban - Pandit Jasraj at his peak.

By Kavita Chhibber

He is over 70 and yet his voice soars to heights vocalists half his age struggle to attain. He has been honored with the Padma Vibhushan, the title of Sangeet Martand, and innumerable other accolades, yet Pundit Jasraj takes it all in his stride. In an exclusive interview with Little India's Kavita Chhibber, he reminisces on his life and the influences that shaped his journey. He is playful, laughing, bursting into song. When his star protege violinist Kala Ramnath screams at the sight of a cockroach, this strict vegetarian laughs, "We are Bombay wallahs ... that becomes part of our meals and we don't realize it. So relax!"

Not many people know that you started as a tabla player?
I started playing the tabla at about six then and my brother Pundit Pratapnarayan saw my interest and he taught me. By seven I was performing on stage. I performed on tabla till I was 14. Then a couple of incidents happened one after the other that changed my life. Pundit Kumar Gandharva came to Lahore and he was well known to our family and said I have a radio program in the evening, so can I take Jasraj with me? I accompanied him on tabla. While discussing the technicalities of how Kumar Gandharva sang, Pundit Amarnath, who went on to become a wonderfully accomplished vocalist, made a comment which I didn't agree with. When I stated my objection I was told to stick to tabla and that tabla players didn't know anything about classical music. That stung. Two days later for a janmashtami program my older brother was performing at his student's music college. I decided to go and see the arrangements. When I went on stage I asked, where would the harmonium, tamboura and tabla accompanists sit, and was told by a young man overseeing arrangements, "In that ditch below the stage."
I said why would the accompanists sit there? He said, "Can a tabla player dare to sit with the honored vocalist." I was so aghast that a tabla player was considered so inferior. That was it. I cried heart brokenly and told my brother I would not play the tabla ever again. I did not even accompany him in that concert. They had to get someone from the school. We went home and then he woke me up at 4 am and said okay come on, I will now teach you vocal music and explained that they teach tabla for a short time to every vocalist so that he knows how to keep track of the beat while singing. In my case they kept delaying the vocal education, because I became such an exceptional tabla player.

So began your journey as a classical vocalist, and you being the youngest were willful I hear!
Riyaz was tough, I don't think I sang too well and I would get agitated. After two years of training we ended up at a house concert and I said tonight I will sing. My brother said, but I have not taught you any night raga what will you sing? I said I will sing Yaman. He said but I haven't taught you Yaman, so how will you sing? I said don't worry I will sing. He really prohibited me, but I insisted and finally I said you don't want me to sing, you just teach me superficially. He said I will make you sing to your heart's content, but right now you are not ready, so don't be so stubborn. Yes I was willful and spoilt and persisted and he gave in. I did sing and now I recall how badly I sang. I raised my voice and couldn't bring it down. It was as if I was standing on the top of the highest mountain and there is a deep ravine below and I can't find the path to come down. So I stopped and then cried again in another room of the house. My brother came in and said to me I did say to you, you are not ready yet. Two years of practice is just the beginning.

You have also mentioned several spiritual experiences that occurred and changed your way of thinking and how you sing. Your nephew Ratan Sharma who is a wonderful classical singer says you have a totally spiritual way of teaching music.
Maharaja Jaywant Singhji Waghela of Saanand state became my spiritual guru. Because of him I realized at a very young age there is indeed a God. My older brother Maniramji lost his voice in 1944 and could not even croak leave alone sing. I was given a letter and told to approach the Maharaja who evidently was very kind and my brother was told even though he cannot sing the Maharaja would support him financially. The Maharaja called physicians to check my brother's throat, and 15 days later he said to my brother today you will get your voice back. There is a temple of Devi, go in with faith that Devi Ma will give you your voice back. Sing something in God's name and comeback in 10 minutes. I was 14, and didn't understand a lot, but I saw this miracle with my own eyes. A man who could not even croak went in at 11.50 p.m. and then sang till 6 am in a crystal clear voice, which till the last day of his life, remained crystal clear. Spirituality and music are interconnected. I believe that when God likes you a bit he gives you an ear for music, but when he really loves you he makes you a musician. Narada asked Vishnu where do you reside and Vishnu said. I don't live in heaven or in the hearts of spiritual gurus. I reside where my bhaktas sing in my praise. Once I was singing the bhajan "Allah Meherban" and while singing I felt I was saying Allah and Om from the same place. That feeling comes back each time I sing that bhajan.

What do you think of fusion music?
I'm not in favor of fusion music. There is only one kind of musician who can do justice to this so called fusion music and that is the person who has mastered both the western and Indian classical forms of music. Our music is scientifically so advanced that we have to stoop down to such a low level to mingle with other artists in fusion.

How has teaching music and the audience changed over the years?
When we started learning, it took seven years just to learn bhairav. Our guru would sit for an hour and teach us and we would get only 2 percent of it. Today's students record the lesson and hear it again and again till they get it right. That one-hour lesson can be repeated 24 hours and they get it so much faster than we did. As far as the audience is concerned there used to be a handful of people and now there are a huge numbers. In 1972, I sang before an audience of one lakh people.

Your children Sharang Dev and daughter Durga are involved in films and television serials. You have never given music for films or sung, though your nephews Jatin-Lalit have made waves as film music directors.
Well I'm also film maker V Shantaram's son-in-law, so if his genes are stronger than mine I can't do a thing about it!

There's more to Durga Jasraj than just music. SAVITHA GAUTAM in conversation with the daughter of maestro Pandit Jasraj.

THE GOING can be often tough for children of celebrities, when they happen to choose the same profession. They are bound to be compared to their parents. Some learn the hard way and reinvent themselves, while the others keep trying. Durga Jasraj belongs to the first category.

Instead of falling into the trap, she has reinvented herself. By starting an entertainment company called Art and Artistes India Pvt. Ltd., which is into event management, TV software and producing devotional albums. And promoting classical and fusion music in the process.

In Chennai to present 'Tiranga,' an evening of music and poetry dedicated to the National Flag, the daughter of Pandit Jasraj is all fired up. "This is the first show that our company is putting up in the city," says the ex-hostess of the TV show, "Zee Antakshari."

Flag, a symbol

Why the National Flag? "I remember listening to a conversation between some youngsters, who had no clue about the real meaning of the colours of the Flag. It got me thinking. I felt the Flag is a symbol of what our nation stands for... it provides a common identity to one billion Indians. And it's time the next generation knew what each colour stands for," she says. The musical extravaganza, which has travelled all over the country and to London, will begin with a documentary made by Durga.

Two Melodies Together

Despite stereotypes, India, like America, is a country that feeds and nourishes creative individuality. Just as Americans have been inspired by the archetype of the cowboy who wanders the open spaces in search of a dream, so Indians are inspired by the yogi who wanders inner spaces in search of realization. To see the parallel with America, consider the scene in Huckleberry Finn, where Huck is trying to decide between what his elders have told him is right (returning Jim to slavery) and what he feels is right. He eventually decides on the latter, saying "O.K., then I'll go to hell." Variations of this scene have been acted out by Indians throughout history. Indians always speak as if obedience to tradition was their highest priority. But when push comes to shove, it is always the inner voice of intuition that wins out.

This individualistic ideal is embodied especially vividly in the person of the Hindustani musician, who creates a single melody on the spot as it reveals itself. Traditionally, the creator of this single line interacted with no other musicians. Like Krishna with his flute, or Saraswati with her veena, he or she enjoyed complete and solitary fulfillment. The other musicians who played with these soloists were supposed to add support, but keep creative input to a minimum. The tanpura played the same notes over and over. The tabla player usually marked the rhythm cycle by repeating the same theka pattern, unless given permission to take a solo. And although vocal music has long been accompanied by a bowed instrument or harmonium, this accompanist traditionally was required to copy what the singer had just sung.

Like most Indian traditions, however, this one eventually yielded to the pressure of individual creativity. The modern tabla player rarely plays an unornamented theka pattern. The only way that one can now identify the taal cycle is to listen for the khali section, where the tabla player muffles the bass drum by playing with the flat of his hand. Within this relatively free format, however, the best modern tabla players now interact with the melody instrument in complex cross-rhythmic patterns. Vocal accompanists, like the great sarangi player Sultan Khan, are playing beautifully ornamented parts that are more like counterpoint than accompaniment, and are taking solos of their own. And with the creation of the jugalbandi form, it is now common for two melody instruments to play together, which creates a situation where neither can be seen as "the soloist."

The question of what exactly they both ought to play, however, is not as simple as it may seem. Hindustani music is still essentially the expression of creative individuals, even if now they are interacting with each other. How is it possible for two musicians to play together meaningfully in a tradition that is essentially monophonic and improvised? One possibility is to borrow a technique from Karnatik music, and alternate between two musicians playing pre composed melodies in unison, and then each one soloing. Ravi and Anoushka Shankar have recently started incorporating something like this format into their jugalbandi performances, although they go beyond it by occasionally even (gasp!) playing harmonies. Of course harmonies are very beautiful, and Western music would be thin gruel without them. But there is a very real danger that the essence of improvised music can be lost if one assumes that this is the only possible direction for progress.

Jazz made this assumption in the 1930s, and the resulting Big Band Swing arrangements stifled the soloist's creativity. This was why the best jazz improvisers of the '40s left the big bands to start small bebop combos. And the European rationalist assumption that the pen was mightier than any other tool or instrument turned the musician into the obedient menial of the composer. Improvisation was completely lost with the rise of the symphony orchestra. Jugalbandi cannot be seen as one small step in the direction of a band or orchestra, it is a completely different perspective altogether: two soloists in interactive conversation with each other not fused together as a single ensemble.

Vocal jugalbandi often comes close to resembling counterpoint, with the two singers frequently overlapping with each other. This works especially well in Dhrupad, where the long held notes form something almost like harmonies in widely spaced Pentatonic ragas. But the Salamat Ali Khan family transplanted this style to Khayal when they switched from Dhrupad, and sometimes even include three singers at once.

Pandit Jasraj developed an ingenious and profound style which is now called Jasrangi Jugalbandi, and which is firmly rooted in Indian tradition. It is based on an ancient method called Moorchana Paddhati, which creates different ragas from the same sequence of notes by changing the note that is designated as Sa. This is analogous to the modal system in Western music, which creates modes such as Phrygian and Dorian by playing a major scale (such as C) and designating some note other than C as the tonic. If a male singer and a female singer perform two ragas together which are related in this manner, the Ma note of the man's raga could be the Sa note of the woman's raga (or vice versa). However, all of the pitches that they sing would be the same, except for the fact that the man would be singing the lower notes of the scale, and the woman would be singing the upper notes. The result is that two very different ragas, with different tonal centers, ornaments, and performance histories can be performed at the same time, and are thus revealed to be both fundamentally related and significantly different.

All of these vocal forms of jugalbandi are usually restricted to players who have studied with the same guru and thus have a close affinity with each other. In fact, in most cases the performers are blood relatives, whose vocal blend is enhanced by the shared speech patterns that emerge when a family grows up together in the same household. Instrumental jugalbandis are usually structured as alternating solos rather than as counterpoint; the interaction is thus successive rather than simultaneous. But these instrumental jug-albandis are also assumed to work best when players share a guru. Ali Akbar and Ravi Shankar were perhaps the most famous jugalbandi duo of the 20th century, and their common roots in the teachings of Allaudin Khan were what made their performances together so unforgettable.

Nevertheless, there is one dramatic example of great jugalbandis created by two artists from different traditions. Vocalist Pandit Jasraj and bansuri maestro Hariprasad Chaurasia come from radically different musical backgrounds, and are the only jugalbandi duo that combines instrumental and vocal. But they have been performing together for almost a decade. One of these performances was recorded on a wonderful CD by tablist and record producer Eman, and this recording shows the many affinities that enable these two great artists to co-create.

Chaurasia once said that he played the bansuri because "the flute is an instrument you can sing through." Like a singer he has superb breath control, perhaps because of his youthful training as a wrestler. His tone is strong, sweet, and unwavering, and he plays sruti patterns that were once thought to be impossible for the bansuri. The speed with which he can play the most dazzling rhythmic and melodic patterns has justly made him a great favorite with musicians all over, especially in the jazz world.

Jasraj's amazing command of his three-and-a-half octave range makes it hard to believe that his voice is not an instrument of some sort. He can sing every possible sitar bend, sarod slide, and tabla rhythm, reminding us that the voice is where all music began. Usually with vocalists one has to choose between an experienced older singer whose voice is not as powerful as it was, or a strong young voice that still has more to learn. With Jasraj you get it all, for his 72 years of musical experience have given him artistic wisdom, and yet miraculously left his voice as young as an enchanted prince.

Although Jasraj and Chaurasia came to music from very different starting points, their turbulent early histories revealed in each an overwhelming desire to play the best possible music, regardless of the obstacles that were thrown in their way.

Chaurasia was born into a family of wrestlers with no interest in music. The only way he was able to get access to his first flute was by stealing it. He approached his first teacher, Pt. Rajaram, when he was only 10 years old, and had to learn to play in secret. When Chaurasia told his father that he was leaving home to accept his first job at All India Radio, his father asked him how he could have been hired as a flute player when he couldn't play the flute! The exposure he received on All India Radio got him numerous offers from film composers, but success in this new career did not satisfy him. He wanted more classical training, and he remembered that Allaudin Khan had once said to him "if you can't study with me, you should study with my daughter." Chaurasia had never heard Annapurna Devi play before. Almost no one had, for there are no recordings of her, and she had not played in public since her divorce from Ravi Shankar. But she lived nearby in Mumbai, and Allaudin Khan was miles away in Maihar, so Ch
aurasia knocked on her door and asked to study with her. She told him to get out, calling him a "film wallah." But he persisted for three years, until she finally agreed to even listen to him. When she heard him she said, "If I am to teach you, you must start completely over. How can you do that now?" He said that he would switch over to playing his flute on the opposite side, so that he would have to relearn all of his fingering. She agreed to this, and remains his guru to this day.

Although Pandit Jasraj was born into a family that had been singers for generations, his father's early death forced his family to decide that he would never become a musician himself. He was sent to school, in hopes that he would master some lucrative middle-class profession. But one day he heard an old gramophone record of a ghazal in a caf and knew immediately that he wanted to become a singer. He cut classes so he could come to that caf and listen to that same record over and over, for there was no other music anywhere nearby. Finally, his family decided to let him become a tabla player, for there was a greater demand for accompanists than for soloists. He became accepted as prodigy before he was teenager, but resolved to become a singer instead when a promoter insulted him, and then refused to let him sit on the same level as the soloist. At 14 he began studying vocal music with his older brother Sangeet Mahamahopadhyaya Pandit Maniram, and thus began his life of devotion to singing. "I still play tabla for myself, but no longer perform," says Jasraj, "but my tabla experience helps me hear what the tabla players are doing, and that means I can interact with them more effectively. Today of course the tabla players are treated with more respect, and that's a good thing. With someone like Zakir Hussain, how could you do otherwise?"

Today both Jasraj and Chaurasia have been showered with honors. Both men have received the Padma Bhushan, the Padma Vibhushan, the Sangeet Natak Academy award, and the Rajeev Gandhi award. Chaurasia has received the best musician award from the Cine Musician Association, and has produced two platinum albums. Jasraj has auditoriums named after him in two North American cities, and the Jasraj Award was created by the government of Canada to honor and aide students of Indian music. Both men have also created schools of Indian music. Chaurasia's Brindavan Gurukul gives free instruction to poor children in Mumbai, and is in the process of establishing a branch in California. Pandit Jasraj has schools run by his disciples in Atlanta, Vancouver, Pittsburgh, Tampa, and Jersey City. When they come together again to perform a jugalbandi, it will undoubtedly be a creation of three extraordinary individuals that will be both spontaneous and spiritual.

On a quiet stage at the University of South Florida, about 20 students sat cross-legged on carpet mats, each one facing renowned Indian vocalist Pandit Jasraj as he guided the class through a series of vocal warm-up exercises.

"Ommmmmmm ..." he hummed, accompanied by the minor-chord drone of a harmonium.

"Ommmmmmm ..." the class replied.

"Again," he said. "Ommmmmmm ..."

"Ommmmmmm ..."

And so it went, this call and response, with the class repeating each of the Indian lyrics, scales and exercises that Jasraj, 76, gave them.

"It's kind of like having a life experience without actually going to India," senior Rachel Merceret, 23, said afterward.

In fact, it's possible to have this experience without even going to USF. In a rare move, the school's College of Visual and Performing Arts is making the class, "Music of India/World," open to the public through Nov. 1. Ticket sales will go toward Jasraj's appearance fee.

Whereas most USF courses are open only to students, the current series of performance-based classes by Jasraj - billed as a guest artist in residence - is open to anyone with two hours and $8 to spare.

Sit in, and you'll get to sing with and receive instruction from Jasraj, a legendary figure in classical Indian music. In one recent class, students meditated peacefully, then chanted traditional Hindi chants and ragas, carefully noting each line's subtle lilts and inflections. Jasraj called it " yoga with sound."

"It's really a major honor to host him in this country because he's like a Pavarotti to India - only more importantly, he's a spiritual figure," said music professor Patricia Bowes-Jeffers.

For students, the resulting educational experience is richer and more authentic than what they'd get in a normal classroom setting.

"You're learning how the music is learned in another country," said ethnomusicology student Derek Brooks, 22, "rather than having Western influences on it because you have a Western teacher."

Bowes-Jeffers said it's not necessary to have a background in music to attend and enjoy the class.

"This is like diving into the heart of India, with him here," she said. "This way, we get to experience it from the inside out, rather than looking at it from the outside."

Few Indian musicians have been so felicitated as Pandit Jasraj. And fewer still have been celebrated the way he has been both in his own country as well as abroad. Follow the list of accolades he has received and you will know why he is India's best-known cultural ambassador to the world.

Panditji was given an honorary doctorate degree by Ravindrabharati University, Calcutta. *New
Pandit Jasraj was today honoured with the 12th Yudhvir memorial award for his outstanding contribution to classical music.
Andhra Pradesh Governor Surjit Singh Barnala presented the award to Pandit Jasraj at a function organised by the Yudhir foundation here.
Asthana Vidwan of Kanchi Kamakoti Peeth
Sangeet Kala Ratna by Shankaracharya of Kanchi. This is the highest award.
Desh Ratna
Winner of all Padma Awards
Acharya Jialal Vasant Vaggeyakar Award
"Sarva Shrestha Kala Gaurav" Award for both Pandit Jasraj & Madhura Jasraj by Sanskruti Kala Darpan

Surer Guru (W.Bengal Government Music College)
Sangeet Martand (Haryana)
Sangeet Kala Ratna (M.P.)
Swami Shri Haridas Sangeet Ratna (Brindavan, U.P.)
Sangeet Natak Academy Award (Govt. of India)