www.india-today.com/itoday/19990830/arts.html
Veena
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Moonsoon Magic
Among a host of concerts and cassettes evoking the
seasonal metaphor, Kumar Gandharva's just-released
Geet Varsha showcases a classic presentation.
By S Kalidas
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Even before the rains had arrived, the trendy were
gyrating to the beat of something called the rain
dance at the more happening discotheques. Blaring
well above the decibel of the artificial water sprays
invariably was the track from Shubha Mudgal's Ab Ke Sawan.
Released by Virgin Records, the Indi-pop fusion album
traverses like a bold rainbow the musical parabola that
the rains have always inspired in the subcontinent.
Then just last week, as the monsoon finally descended
on the plains of north India, Mudgal -- along with
thumri singer Rita Ganguli -- was singing again in
Varsha Mangal, a concert not of her pop songs but
of the classical ragas and semi-classical songs
associated with the rains.
Nor are they the only ones giving voice to this
seasonal euphoria. Music today has just released
a double album of the late Pandit Kumar Gandharva's
Geet Varsha and in Mumbai, Delhi and Calcutta several
events are celebrating this most flamboyant of Indian
seasons with classical, folk and pop music.
The slinky heroine in a clinging, wet (usually white)
sari may be a stock cliche in Hindi films but then
this is an image that has come down to us with the
full force of tradition behind it. From time immemorial
the monsoon metaphor has been put to poetry, sung and
danced to in a myriad forms, styles, languages and dialects.
At the beginning of this millennium Kalidasa wrote a whole
epic, the Meghadootam, on the phenomena in Sanskrit. The
Mughals had many portfolios of miniature paintings executed
on this theme and as we draw close to the year 2000, the wet
season still inspires the most vivid flights of artistic
and musical imagination.
"Anyone who has endured the unrelenting heat of the
Indian summer," explains musician and author Sheila Dhar,
"will appreciate the relief that the monsoons bring to
the Indo-Gangetic plains." Cleansed of the heat and
the dust, all nature seems to wear a new emerald robe.
Suddenly the air is laden with the smell of wet earth
and the gathering clouds cover the scorching sun with
the promise of showers. The men and the boys are on
rooftops flying kites of a hundred hues, while women
and children swing from the branches of lofty trees.
Peacocks fan out their long incandescent tails and
the Papiha bird sings her love song calling out for
her piya (mate). The whole atmosphere is loaded with
the symbology of love and yearning. And as Dhar puts it,
"It's in the impending possibility of a rendezvous that
the excitement exists, not necessarily in the act of
union itself."
In a rapidly globalising world post-modernism has made
fashionable mantras out of jargon like "appropriation"
and "deconstruction". But a closer look will reveal that
transcreation (by appropriating someone else's work) and
vichchhed (deconstruction) have been used as creative
devices for centuries. All our traditional arts revel
in creating anew a given idea, tune or image. It is in
this context that we need to place albums like Mudgal's
Ab Ke Sawan which attempt to transfer the traditional
musical metaphor of the monsoon to a more seemingly
modern and globalised context. The lyrics are mostly
simplified recreations of older ones beginning with
the title song which lifts the first phrase from a
very old thumri, Ab ke sawan ghar aaja. The music
itself draws from a host of forms from the semi-classical
to the folk to the South American Samba. Sung by Mudgal
in her gutsy style, one can hear in her vocalism echoes
of many others, including Ila Arun, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
and her mentor Kumar Gandharva.
The extremely cerebral and well-informed artist that
he was, Kumar Gandharva himself drew inspiration from
a very wide selection of musical sources. In one of his
many memorable thematic presentations he even recreated
the art of the famous Marathi stage personality Bal Gandharva.
Titled "Bal Gandharva Mala Umajhlele (I have understood
Bal Gandharva)" it had Kumar singing popular numbers from
the thespian-singer's plays, albeit with his own twist
and style. While classical masters of the past like
Rehmat Khan, Abdul Karim Khan and Omkarnath Thakur
provided Kumar with the kernels of his vocalism, he
delved deep into the poetry of the Bhakti saints and
the folk music of the Malwa region for rooting his
art to the soil. His eclecticism got him into many
controversies with the die-hard conservatives mocking
his penchant for folk songs and bhajans, but Kumar saw
high art in even the most rustic of voices.
"Few classical singers can use their voices the way
some village women do," he used to maintain. "That kind
of rustic resonance is not easy to reproduce."
Geet Varsha is a presentation of monsoon songs selected
from both the folk and the classical repertoires. And so
artistically seamless is the presentation that the lay
listener may fail to realise where the stylistic lines
are drawn. Recorded in Delhi in 1978 during the Vishnu
Digambar Jayanti, this twin album has Kumar's wife Vasundhara
Komkali and pupil Meera Rao accompanying him. The first thing
that strikes the ear is Kumar's sensitivity to tone and timbre.
Few Indian artists have been as perfect in this aspect as
that rebel musician from Dewas. He may have stood many
a traditional norm on its head but none in his time could
match his aural aesthetic. And his orchestration of voices
here is absolutely enchanting.
The album opens with a song, Ghaam pare re, lamenting the
heat of the summer in the afternoon raga Marwa. Marwa is a
raga which employs an imperfect consonance and Kumar has
used it to convey the oppressive heat and restlessness of
the time just before the monsoons break. Then slowly he draws
the listener into a layered landscape of gathering clouds,
the first torrent, the flashes of lightening, the yearning
of the nayika (heroine), the birth of Krishna on a dark rainy
night. Apart from traditional rainy-season ragas like the
Miyan-ki-Mallar, Gaur Mallar, Sawani and Des, he also makes
effective use of folk melodies from Malwa and some of his
own combination ragas like Maghwaa and Jaldhar-Basanti.
The use of rhythm is also very consciously done; not all
the compositions are set to talas or rhythmic cycles.
Some are very losely structured in the anibaddha (or unfettered)
form.
Had Kumar lived on he would have been 75 years old now. And as
one listens to this double album one cannot but recall how much
passion and perfection he had packed into his brilliant but not
a very healthy life. There are some other presentations of his
like Tulsidas Ek Darshan and Rituraaj Mefil which should also be
brought out for the benefit of his many fans and admirers.
That is a joint responsibility for his heirs and the music
companies to fulfil.
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"Tulsidas - Ek Darshan" had been brought out some years ago by a Delhi-
based group by Sangeetanjali. It was a three-cassette set and came
along with a booklet of the lyrics. They had also brought out Kumar's
"Surdas - Ek Darshan". Both are excellent albums.
Warm regards,
Abhay
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Share what you know. Learn what you don't.
I heard,however, he did a Mirabai:Ek Darshan and something similar for Tukaram.
Is that true and is it available ?
Sandip.
But I have Kumar's set of Tulsidas- Ek Darshan which is simply amazing. I am
hoping that all his cassettes will be eventually released on CD including his
famous Gem - Baithak series.