Pu La Deshpande - A Tribute
naniwadekar
come to symbolise the soul of Maharashtra, died one year ago
today, on 12 June 2000. The outpouring of grief that followed
can have had few parallels. There were probably only two figures
whose death had caused more sorrow in the history of the Marathi
world in the 20th century : Lokmanya Tilak and Babasaheb
Ambedkar.
Pu La, as he came to be known, was also called PL and Bhai,
among his wide circle of friends. I thought of writing a few
words in his memory, and so many memories crowded in that it
won't be possible to follow all the threads that presented
themselves to my mind. For want of time as well as a desire to
keep my post down to a reasonable length, I thought of writing
only about the role music played in his life, and the glowing
contributions he made to the musical world. But the
multi-faceted PuLa owes the magnitude of his fame to his work as
a writer, and his roaring popularity to his humourous output.
Besides, artists who have given me as much pleasure as did PuLa
can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Poet Kusumagraj and
Dickens come to mind. But on second thoughts, I would just about
withhold that honour from both of them. That leaves Bhimsen,
Kishori, Gavaskar, and, of course, Lata.
Pu La Deshpande was born in November 1919. His father hailed
from Belgaon-Dharwad area. His mother, Laxmibai, was from
Karwar's Konkani community. This provided the young PuLa an
ideal platform to achieve fluency in both Hindi and English, and
leave his parents to assure others that 'our Purushottam
understands first-class Konkani and complete Marathi'. Things
worked differently in those archaic times. PuLa's maternal
grandfather, Vaman Mangesh Dubhashi alias 'Rigvedi', spoke
Konkani, Marathi, Hindi, and English. Possibly Kannada, too.
He learnt Gujarati due to the demands of his professional life. He
knew Sanskrit fairly well. And if all this was not enough, he
also learnt Bengali because a Bong won the Nobel, and translated
Tagore's Geetanjali into Marathi. (Durga Bhagwat says that she
had translated Geetanjali into Sanskrit. She gave it to her
father to read, and then burnt it.) From him, PuLa inherited his
artistic temparament, but not his hardworking nature. PuLa also
omitted to follow his footsteps in his 'Aurangzebi' disregard
for music. From his mother, he picked mellifluous voice; from
his father, an abiding love for the gayaki of Bal Gandharva. His
maternal grandmother, Tulashibaay or Tulashyakka or simply Baay,
had the gift of gab and could keep her company in splits. This
is probably the source of PuLa's helplessly boisterous nature.
PuLa grew up in Mumbai's VileParle area in a cultured
atmosphere, with elders like his grandfather Rigvedi and an
idealistic Tilak-devotee named PhaNsaLkar doing rich sanskar on
the younger generation. PuLa has immortalised them both with
incomparably lovely sketches. The presiding deities of Parle
were not Ram-Rahim-Any_Anthony_Gonsalves, but Ram-bhakta Sant
Ramdas, Shivaji and Lokmanya Tilak, firebrand nationalists all.
Phansalkar Maastar took the lead in organising speeches by
leading figures of the day in Parle's Tilak Mandir. Later,
through a somewhat ugly metamorphosis and not a little help from
wife Sunita, PuLa took to Socialist leaders S M Joshi and
Nanasaheb Gore. However, a strong attraction for the pre-war
order (World War - II), for the Parle of those days, and for
Tilak never left PuLa. Just as Bhimsen acquires an extra edge
when he goes back to the material he is most comfortable with
(Shuddha Kalyan, Todi, Multani), PuLa's writing reveals a keen
edge and sincerity when he writes about Tilak and Tilak-ites, as
witness his articles on Sculptor Phadke (maaze dattak aajoba -
my adopted grandfather) and 'Maastar nasalele Phansalkar
Maastar' (Teacher Phansalkar, who wasn't a teacher).
He engaged in the kind of adolescent writing you would expect
from someone like him. Combining with a friend (Gururaj Alurkar
or some such name) to write a poem and combining their two names
to publish it under, 'Purush_raj Alur_pande' printed his
earliest work in a magazine published by college-going friends.
But 'the dream to become a writer was to present itself much
later to me' and his first love was music; it remained so
throughout his life. He learnt to play harmonium, could sing a
bit, and showed good skills at composition. His 'small time
music-store was dragging along, and not unsatisfactorily'. He
applied for the job of staff artist with Mumbai AIR, but failed
the test. (This information about the Mumbai AIR test and some
other tidbits included here are taken from Raveendra Pinge's
article on PuLa, published by a Houston based magazine late last
year.) Hereabouts (I would guess around 1942) he met Vasantrao
Deshpande for the first time. A life-long friendship was about
to blossom and it began on a 'wrong' note with Vasantrao making
'a grand entry' while PuLa was singing. After a few minutes,
Vasantrao, himself in his early 20s, cockily took over from the
tabalaji with 'bete, idhar laav tabala'. By now, PuLa was a
Punekar, having moved to Pune in 1942 following some deaths in
his house in Parle. (Half a century later, the entire
Maharashtra was claiming PuLa to be theirs under some pretext or
other, however flimsy.) The young friends started presenting
fukat music recitals, with Vasantrao giving tabla support to
PuLa's singing and to his tunes. 'But soon the proper order came
to be established' with 'Vasanta' taking over the singing, and
PuLa giving harmonium support. Soon Vasanta became simply
'Vashya'. ( At this point, I hope this does not become an
exercise in quoting PuLa-isms. I also urge those who are
wondering who the hell this Vasantrao-Vasanta-Vashya is to stop
reading further.) One result of the friendship was that 'Vashya
cleaned my ears and I myself could no longer abide my own
singing.' A non-film Marathi song sung by PuLa for the MD
Shridhar Parsekar (the violinist) is commercially available. The
song 'paakhara jaa' attests to the simple charm of PuLa's
singing. His splendid musical comedy 'Ravivarchi sakal' is also
available through private collectors on video cassette, and
there he unleashes upon the unsuspecting listener humming and
singing that display both his classical moorings and mischievous
nature. It is simply out of this world and would do even the
prankster Vasantrao proud.
He published his 'valli'-sketch of (the fictitious) Bhayya
Nagpurkar in 1944, and, as the book 'Vyakti ani valli' claims,
the world of Marathi literature was forced to sit up and take
notice of this Purushottam-avatar. But the ripeness was still to
come to his writing, and the craft that went into this sketch
was as yet just an exception. His earliest books like
'khogir-bharati' and 'nasti uthathev' are heavy with immaturity
and at times painful, unconvincing straining for humour. Later,
everything fell in place, and saying that he was touched with
genius would be understating the case. When I read that Gods
used Mozart as a conduit to pour music into the world's lap, I
thought of Lata's voice and the unalloyed brilliance of PuLa's
prose. But we are jumping the gun.
A few days after his first marriage, his wife died. (Special
prize for anybody who knows her name. With the great regard for
history that Indians have, nobody bothered to write a word about
her after PuLa died. I guess I will have to meet Sunitabai and
refuse to leave her house unless she tells me the details.)
Sunitabai claims he had married 'just like anybody else', no
doubt someone from the Marathi middle-class (this interpretation
mine, not directly Sunitabai's). On 12 June 1946, exactly 54
years before his death, he had a 'RegisHtered' marriage with
Sunita Thakur. He was in a baniyan when he got married (iirc),
and 'Sunita rushed through her signature so that she could run
back to the kitchen and ensure that the milk won't spill over in
all the hoopla.' His marriage with this hardworking (he avoided
all bother), tireless (he was lazy), stern (he believed in
'chalataa hai' credo), shrill (he breathed compromise), shrewd
(he courted praise) woman endowed with a rare social sense
(which he didn't mind so long as she took care of all his
needs), a charitable spirit (PuLa gave her a free hand and she
donated to worthy causes without stint), a keen intellect (he
relied on his immeasurably superior natural gifts) and a rasik's
temparament albeit without much creativity of her own (he had it
in oodles) was ultimately the making of PuLa.
PuLa was associated with Chintamanrao Kolhatkar's drama troupe,
but probably very briefly. Not much later after his marriage, he
had his stint in the Marathi film industry. It reached its
apotheosis with 'Gulacha Ganapati', which PuLa acted in,
directed, and scored music for. He was an excellent music
composer, who could have been counted among the first rank, if
he had given adequate time and attention to that branch. The
songs he has composed for Ammaldar, Dev-bappa and Gulacha
Ganapati are lovely. Simple tunes, like 'kabirache vinato
shele', was his forte. But his tunes could on occasion be
complex. Listen to Asha singing 'olakhichi tarihi navakhi'.
Manik Verma's 'shrihari viduraghari pahuna' somehow reminds me
of Meena Kapoor's 'kuchh aur zamana kehta hai'. (No, PuLa's song
is not in Gaud Sarang.) And the Manik Verma song, included in
the CD compiled for the Denver rmim meet - 2000, is also from
the same film - Gulacha Ganapati. This film (GG) also features
Asha-Vasantrao's great duet 'hii kuNii chhedilii taar' and
'Indrayani Kathi', penned by Ga Di Madgulkar and made famous by
Bhimsen. Many people know him as a singer of this one song, and
it is quite an experience to hear it in his early 1950s voice
off the film's video. Bhimsen later released a newer version,
which has become so famous. The film version is filmed against
an unlikely, incongruous backdrop, amidst a riot of laughter.
PuLa had a taiyyar ear. His friend Raveendra Pinge has recounted
how on a casual visit to a studio, he advised the MD Yeshwant
Deo to use tivra madhyam, instead of shuddha madhyam, in one
place as vivadi, thereby adding a special touch to the song.
(Pinge doesn't tell us which song.) After China attacked India,
ahimsa and panch-sheel took a back seat, rulers suddenly
remembered 'the misguided patriot' Shivaji (as the foolish Nehru
had called him) and a need for patriotic songs was felt. Ga Di
Madgulkar came up with 'jinku kinva maru', and PuLa composed
music for this song.
He also composed a raucous, rhythm based song 'dil deke dekho'
which Shri A R Rehman would do well to listen to. Last year, the
talented folks in San Francisco Bay Area paid an 8-hour long
tribute to PuLa on his fifth maasik punyatithi (Sunday, 12 Nov
2000), the mammoth undertaking pieced together by Shri Mukund
Marathe. Chinmoy Bhagwat with four others presented this 'dil
deke dekho' dhamaka. Oh God, what brilliance!! I bet PuLa's
gentle ghost would have purred with delight. The song is
available on video cassette (check www.mmbayarea.org), but the
cassette quality is quite ordinary. This part-time MD may have
taken some help for this piece from friends like tabaliya Lalji
Desai. But Naushad had his Ghulam Mohd, Vasant Desai his
Vasantrao Acharekar and Hridaynath openly acknowledges that Late
Narayanrao Naidu used to advise him about theka and laya related
matters. PuLa has proved that if the instinct is right, you can
even unleash cacophony that is graced with genius. He also
understood that it cannot be the norm, only a very occasional
exception.
Almost two decades after GG, he composed two songs for Jitendra
Abhisheki , 'maze jeevan gaaNe' and 'shabdavachun kaLale sare';
songs so brilliant that you can pass them off as Abhisheki's own
compositions. I can think of no higher praise.
Sunitabai claims that if PuLa hadn't had an alert wife in her,
his cosy, lazy, praise-happy indolence would have been taken
advantage of by scheming people in the film world, and an easily
satisfied PuLa would have spent his whole life enjoying the easy
way out, enjoying the sycophants' praises even as they exploited
his talents. The couple had some unpleasant experiences,
especially regarding financial dealings, and PuLa left the filmi
duniya for good. Or was made to leave it, by Sunitabai.
He had a stint as a college teacher in Belgaon, and would often
state later that his brief stay there constituted the happiest
period in his life. Many a University Professor's chief claim to
fame is his free, frank and well-reasoned disregard for PuLa's
genius. Nobody else gives a damn. And when Raosaheb (another
real-life character immortalised by PuLa) asked him in Belgaon
what exactly was there to be taught about Marathi, Professor
PuLa sportingly conceded the point. Upset with some college
politics, he moved to Mumbai as a teacher in Kirti College. He
left this job as well, and thenceforth concentrated on his
writing. The two decades, roughly from 1956 to 1975, can be
called the Golden Era in his life. His humourous books - 'Vyakti
ani valli', 'Batatyachi chaal', 'Asa mii asaamii' and
'HasavaNuk' - are the most responsible for his fame. And if
Chesterton says that Dickens showed his genius by adopting the
commonest themes, rather than choosing the topics whose sting is
supposed to bail the writer's modest talents out, consider how
aptly the observation fits PuLa. He wrote about the delights of
food in 'maaze khadya jeevan', Railway, Post Office, Roads,
Domesticated Animals in 'HasavaNuk'; about an ordinary clerk's
life in 'Asaamii'; about the life in an archetypal middle-class
society in 'ChaaL' and about the kind of people who roamed the
streets in various capacities in those years in 'vyakti ani
valli'. Valmiki is said to have written Ramayan before Ram was
born. And here we have Chesterton choosing the exact words to
critique PuLa's strengths much before PuLa was born. To add to
his great achievement of 'vyakti and valli' and its imaginary
characters, two compilations of his character-sketches of
real-life people were published in his heyday : 'GaNagot' and
'guN gaaiin aavadi'. It is in these books that his famous
articles on singers appear.
He also wrote or adapted from other languages some dramas, with
'tuze aahe tujapaashii' worth a special mention. He wrote
travelogues following his visits to Far East (Purvarang) and to
Europe (Apoorvaaii). He had visited UK while he worked for
Doordarshan in Delhi during Nehru's days, following a stint with
AIR, Pune when he shared a room with Poet Borkar and Venkatesh
Madgulkar. Sunitabai felt he was getting too comfortable in
Delhi, and PuLa responded by quitting the job (so am I told.) He
brought back memories of dramas (seen almost every night) in
London and the organ music in Churches. London has about 48
theatres. New English drama is almost as bad as new Indian film
music; but the older productions are very enjoyable. And nobody
who has attended the Sunday Prayers and especially the Evensong
in Westminster Abbey will fail to agree with PuLa's love for the
Church music. It is absolutely overwhelming.
Yet another collection of his travelogues is 'jaave tyaanchyaa
deshaa', and one can even extend the definition to include
'Vangachitre', an account of his days in Shanti-niketan, which
he visited to study Bengali.
Except for some (undistinguished) Professors, PuLa was blessed
with a wide and distinguished readership. His peers valued him
highly, from elders like Naa Si Phadke and Acharya Atre, to
comtemporaries like Ga Di Madgulkar, Vasant Bapat and Shanta
Shelke. Younger generation has been eating out of his hand for
years now. Tukaram has spread his tentacles in Marathi language
like Shakespeare in English. However long PuLa-influence
survives, many people from my generation, myself included, won't
be able to write anything in Marathi if we scrupulously decided
to avoid the path beaten by PuLa. He keeps poking his nose all
the time. I owe the same debt to British journalists. The first
Marathi Dnyanapeeth Award winner Vi Sa Khandekar, senior to PuLa
by more than 20 years, had acknowledged in early 1970s that the
leadership of Marathi writers had passed on to PuLa and that he
(VSK) 'only had seniority'. The honour of chairing the 50th
Marathi Sahitya Sammelan, at Ichalkaranji in 1975, came to PuLa
on a platter. And if he did not receive the Dnyanapeeth award,
it must have had to do with stupid notions of the writing
needing to possess requisite gravitas, and similar tripe. This
is accompanied by a fairly widespread ignorance in Maharashtra
itself about so much as the existence of his 'non-humourous'
literary output. Yet another thing to make one despair.
Worthy social causes were dear both to him and Sunitabai. They
have been generous donators to charities. Baba Amte was a
beneficiary, but later the relations between them were strained.
The Deshpandes had participated in Vinoba's Bhudan movement.
PuLa did some underground work during Emergency, and translated
Jaiprakash Narayan's prison diary into Marathi. He was a star
campaigner against Mrs Gandhi's misrule during 1977 elections.
And when Janata Party was enveloped by pretty squabbles soon
later, he wrote a series of withering essays in 'Maharashtra
Times' against the political scenario. I think that was his last
hurrah as a literary giant. His 60th birthday was marked with
the publication of his anthology, 'Pu La - ek saathavaN', put
together by his friend and writer, Jaywant Dalwi. He spent his
last 20 years reaping the fruits of his good deeds, enjoying the
kind of popularity which comes only to the select few. He wrote
increasingly less, and with a diminished mastery, but without
ever descending to the shamefully pathetic quality of the
post-1980 Lata. The ever watchful presence of Sunitabai and his
own innate dignity (which Bhimsen and Lata lack) were a sure
guarantee against that happening. When Sunitabai suspected that
PuLa's boomingly popular live shows were getting repetitive and
PuLa was feeling jaded during 1960s, she announced that he would
no longer continue with them. She exercised complete authority
over these matters, and PuLa was smart enough to comply. On some
subjects, he always wrote superbly well, even during 1980s. Ever
the sentimentalist, he wrote in a moving tribute an year after
Vasantrao's relatively early death on 30 July 1983 that he could
not bring himself anymore to listen to Vasantrao's recordings.
In 1980s, he and his poetry-mad wife presented a series of shows
devoted to kavya-vachan. The poets they covered were Arati
Prabhu (real name Chintamani Tryambak Khanolkar; he died young),
Borkar and Merdhekar. I could not attend any of these, being
away from Maharashtra. When I listen to the available
recordings, Sunitabai's voice grates a little on my ear, in a
pointed contrast to PuLa's completely friendly voice, which
conveys its enthusiasm infectiously. A friend who did attend a
Borkar show told me that PuLa acted the naughty part, Sunitabai
played the more serious partner, an accurate reflection of their
real-life roles. I cannot help feeling that Neelam Prabhu, the
greatest star of Marathi radio-drama called 'shrutika', who has
also shone in the role of PuLa's co-star in 'ravivarachi sakal',
would have been a better foil. Sunitabai released a
much-discussed autobiographical book, titled 'ahe manohar tari'
in 1990, and proved that she was no ordinary artiste herself. It
is a towering achievement, but her later writings are of a much
more modest standard. He released many cassettes of him reading
his own works. He was among the 10 artists chosen to be feted at
the first World Marathi Meet, alongwith Krishnarao Shankar
Pandit, Lata, Gavaskar, a centenarian 'Gondhali', and Jayant
Naralikar. Whenever and wherever he saw Bal Gandharva, he used
to greet him by touching his feet. Now he touched Kusumagraj's
feet and bemoaned that very few people worthy of respect were
left around.
Towards the beginning of 1990s, Parkinson's disease trained its
guns on him, and gradually laid him low. His long time friends
Mansur and Kumar died in 1992 (both, like PuLa later, on the
12th day of the month; Kumar in January, Mansur in September).
PuLa started getting disturbed by people moving about around
him, and the private concerts at his house had to be
discontinued. He did listen to recorded music occasionally. In
May 1993, PuLa was awarded Punyabhushan, an award which honours
Pune's high achievers. I saw PuLa in flesh for the first time.
He made a rather pitiable sight. He managed to give a speech,
but that was about it. The Chief Guest Bhimsen jested that he
was tempted to start Bhimpalas (which PuLa, an ardent Bal
Gandharva devotee, adored), but had decided not to bother his
tired harmonium partner. Shantabai Shelke, a big PuLa fan, and
Madhu Dandavate paid glowing tribute. By now, PuLa had most of
the honours under his belt, but he loved Pune and had to wipe
off tears of gratitude.
Kusumagraj had gone in hiding on his 75th birthday due to
dislike for such celebrations. For all his fondness for praise,
PuLa also disliked ostentation. Sunitabai has a similar
temparament; but this time he and Sunitabai relented and he
accepted well-wishers to the extent that his health allowed.
Sunitabai always expresses regret that she has an artist's
sensitivity, but not an artist's creativity. A half-way or
trishanku woman, so to speak. Her attitude to birthdays is
similarly half-way. She used to hope that nobody would remember
hers, and PuLa mostly obliged. But she used to celebrate PuLa's
and his mother's birthdays. Quite a confused woman, I tell ya.
In 1996, he was awarded Maharashtra Bhushan. He was always
resentful of dictators and musclemen, and severely embarrassed
the authorities by speaking against the Thok-shahi (strong arm
tactics) of Shiv Sena, which was in power. In an episode
embarrassing even by Bal Thackeray's lofty standards, he
retaliated that the govt had wanted to honour him with the
award; but he had suggested PuLa's name instead and now
regretted it.
PuLa's father had died very early, but had predicted to his wife
that she would see many honours come her son's way. That
prophecy fulfilled, she died at a very old age. Sunitabai had a
heart scare. Just as when you batted with Gavaskar, your
individual score hardly mattered, Sunitabai had got old, too,
without anybody noticing it. Luckily for PuLa, she was there to
look after him in her usual efficient manner till the very end.
When PuLa was admitted to the hospital with a short breath last
June, things looked bad. Soon he had multiple organ failure. The
entire hospital seemed to concentrate its energies on saving one
precious life. Sunitabai told the doctors that there was no
longer any point in prolonging his life. Her brother's son,
PuLa's beloved Dinesh, rushed back to India from US. Soon after
he reached Pune, PuLa breathed his last on 12 June 2000. He had
wanted a simple funeral, without any religious ceremony; and the
surprise is that a distraught Sunitabai didn't go to the
crematorium with a gun in hand to ensure that his wishes were
respected. The Chief Minister read one-line condolence message,
offered a garland in tribute, and the final rites were performed
with dignity. Never much of a believer in God, PuLa had still
touched the feet of Pandharpur's Vithoba with fervour so that
his head could rest at the same place where Dnyaneshwar and
Tukaram had also bowed their heads. He now became one with them.
The criticisms levelled against PuLa are many. He did not create
convincing women characters, though he could have pointed to an
occasional appearance of an Indu Velankar. He was over-eager to
praise and keep others happy. His explanation was that he found
bitterness distasteful. Why write a review of 20 pages
denouncing a book, he asked? 'Simply say : please do not read
this book. And move on to good things.' However, his eagerness
to praise any drama, however inartistic, if it only managed to
marry off a brahmin girl to a lower-caste boy in the end, and
similar other lazy pronouncements can't be wished away. I
learned to AVOID a drama if PuLa happened to champion it. It
needed only a little instinct to skirt around PuLa's excesses.
His praise-showering was criticised as 'gulal udhalane' by G A
Kulkarni. But the same G A conceded that if a holy glow didn't
come over one when one described a Mansur, one didn't have much
hope in this world. His devotion to Bal Gandharva was genuine;
but Ga Vaa Behere pointed out that Bal Gandharva's peak years
were 1905-1930, and PuLa, born in 1919, was too young to really
have enjoyed him at his peak. His tribute to Kumar Gandharva,
paid in 1974 when Kumar turned 50, is similarly uncritical. Yet,
PuLa could do an excellent analysis if he put his mind to it. He
just didn't have that bent of mind.
He was an ace harmonium player, and had close personal
friendship with Mansur, Vasantrao, Bhimsen and Kumar, among
others. He provided harmonium support to all of them in many
mehfils, and as he put it, 'tested Mansur-Anna's patience' by
giving him harmonium support. His tribute to Mansur, included in
the book 'gun gaaiin aavadi' is one for ages. Mansur was not
much in demand when he was at his peak. It was chiefly PuLa who
kept him in public consciousness, and when Mansur started
singing 'my retirement-ki gayaki', PuLa's efforts bore fruit at
last, the tide turned and the concert circuit couldn't have
enough of Mansur. Mansur used to stay at PuLa's house on his
visits from Dharwad, and was so well looked after by Sunitabai,
that he used to say, 'he tai aamach aai ahe ho'. (This sister is
like my mother.) PuLa jokingly recalled how organisers used to
invite him as chief guest for Bhimsen's maifils, and thus save
the expense over a harmonium player, knowing well that PuLa
would perform that duty as well with enthusiasm. PuLa was among
the friends who persuaded Vamanrao Deshpande to discuss gharana
gayaki at length, which resulted in Vamanrao's scholarly book.
But he himself generally relied on his inborn gift and an eye
for beauty, and wasn't very deep into formal study. When
Sunitabai asked Kesarbai about the difference between Shuddha
Nat and Bhoop-nat, Kesarbai told her to ask her husband, as 'he
considers himself a music expert'. PuLa said he had never really
concerned himself with these arcane issues, and joked that far
from being an expert about anavat raagas, he couldn't even make
out bhoop from shuddha kalyan any longer. His tributes to the
musical giants deserve to be read and re-read in Marathi and in
their entirety. His presentation of raagas and natya-sangeet on
harmonium is commercially available.
Alladiya Khan sahib's favourite blessing to his disciples used
to be : May your art endear itself to connoiseurs. PuLa was
blessed on this score. Despite this, though he himself has
sketched so many leading figures in his timeless prose, owing to
the dearth of good young writers, not very many accounts
celebrating PuLa are available. Shanta Shelke has written some
reminiscences which are quite good. Raveendra Pinge has written
a grand article, 'Ha Putra Sharadecha', included in his book,
'Devagharacha Paauus'. Jaywant Dalwi has also done his bit.
Another astute study is Borkar's, reviewing his anthology, 'Pu
La : ek saathavan'. But there should have been much, much more.
The recent PuLa Industry is short on quality.
PuLa was born towards the end of the second decade of the last
century. In the first half of 1910s were born two of the
greatest poets : Kusumagraj and Balkrishna Bhagwant (Baa Bha)
Borkar, fondly called Bakibab by PuLa. PuLa's attitude towards
them was almost discipular, despite the small difference in
their age and his far greater popularity. Neither of the poets
was a University Professor. Nor had they taken taleem from
Vilayat Khan gharana about despising one's more popular
contemporary. In short, the three giants formed a mutual
admiration society. When some people from a district place
approached PuLa, and asked his permission to name their library
after him, Sunitabai suggested that they name it after
Kusumagraj (real name Vishnu Vaman Shirwadkar), who was equally
worthy and had won Dnyanapeeth Award, thus bringing honour to
Maharashtra. Kusumagraj declared that it was impossible to
estimate how much PuLa had contributed to Maharashtra. Alladiya
would have approved.
As for Baa Bha Borkar, PuLa and Sunitabai had presented his
poetry. They had close family ties, stretching back to PuLa's
childhood. Borkar correctly points out that PuLa's prose had
great flexibility and that he adapted his style to the subject
matter with consummate ease. PuLa's article on Borkar himself is
a proof of this observation. Titled 'Anand-yatri Bakibab', it
floats on the wings of happiness. Whether he is writing about
Rigvedi or Vinoba or Purandare or a college-friend who does his
time in jail (Babadu), PuLa is completely at home. His doggerels
are more worth remebering than verses of many a more celebrated
poet. Both PuLa and Sunitabai were aware that no claim can as
yet be made about how long he will survive. But Borkar says that
PuLa's prose rises to dizzying heights. 'Normally, I can't read
a prose-piece for more than once. But I can read PuLa's prose
again and again. This is because his prose exhibits
kavitva-shakti.' (Translation mine, of an imperfectly remembered
article, read years ago.) It was Borkar's claim that PuLa had
thoroughly digested the entire gamut of Marathi poetry, and it
found unparalleled expression in his prose. PuLa, in his
becoming modesty, used to say that his role was that of a joker
(vidushak). But Borkar was not blinded by his fame as a
humourous writer, and paid him the ultimate compliment any
artist can receive. Alladiya would have approved again. 'Though
PuLa modestly claims that he is in the business of spreading
laughter, he really has been in the business of spreading
humanity around himself.'
- dhananjay naniwadekar
12 June 2001
Shrinivas Balgi
Your words on Life of Pu La bring out the many features of Pu La's
personality and his contributions in the field of Music so well that I
can not resist giving a daad : " Vah!! kya baat hai". After a long
time I have read an artical on Pu La with with that good attention to
detail without letting the interest of the reader fade away. Once
started reading it I could not stop till the end.
Thank you for letting an ordinary reader like me know so much more
about 'Musical' Pu La in a very interesting and artistic manner.
Best regards,
Shrinivas