Live notes from the sitar
IT WAS in Benares on April 7, 1920,
that a young boy was born into a Bengali brahmin family. He left for Europe about a decade later, to work with his famous
brother, the contemporary dancer Uday Shankar. The child was an untapped mine
of talent. He could have been a brilliant dancer, artist, or perhaps a writer.
But his soul longed for music, no matter how tough the route to his dream.
He chose to learn the sitar under Ustad Alauddin Khan in the tiny town
of Maihar,
where the calls of jackals and wolves kept him awake all night. He learnt to
call his guru Baba. For this, he gave up the luxurious lifestyle he had grown
up with. The boy’s name was ~ Ravi Shankar.
Yes, he was honoured with the Bharat Ratna and several Grammy awards.
He’s the one whom George Harrison of The Beatles learnt the sitar from in 1966.
He popularized the instrument in the west, boosting exports phenomenally. He
learnt to fuse the music of the east and the west together.
Ravi Shankar has other claims to fame, though. He scored the music for
Satyajit Ray’s ‘Pather Panchali.’ He won the prestigious Silver Bear at
the 1957 Berlin
film festival for his music for ‘Kabuliwala.’ His talented daughters ~
Anoushka and Norah Jones ~ were both up for Grammy awards, which the latter
won.
In his autobiography ~ ‘My Music, My Life’ ~ Ravi
recreates his days with Baba, who loved him as a father would. Initially, his
guru felt that the boy, with his fancy clothes and dandy ways, would never
master the sitar. In 1936, while Uday was choreographing new ballets at
Dartington Hall in idyllic Devonshire, Ravi
concentrated on scales and exercises with Baba. That’s when he decided he would
opt for music over dance.
Two years later, on a July day, Ravi ~
with a tonsured head and simple clothes following his sacred thread ceremony ~
set out for Maihar. Settling into a small house next to his guru’s, Ravi stayed awake on his bamboo-and-coconut fibre
charpoy, listening to a chorus of crickets and frogs. Of their lessons, he
wrote, “When Baba was nice to me, as he usually was, I
learned very quickly and well. But when he was angry, I got stubborn,
thick-headed, dull, and refused to learn. It must have been because I had never
been scolded by anyone, even as a child.” Does that sound familiar to you?
At
Baba’s, Ravi led the simplest of lives. He ate
meagre meals, practiced for hours on end, and still trembled when he played for
his guru. Though Ravi’s keen mind absorbed the
music, his untrained hands often refused to keep pace. With the basic ragas,
Baba taught Ravi by singing to him. Because,
by imitating the voice with the instrument, he could understand the music more
deeply.
Baba was as famed for his brilliance as for his
temper. Each of the 30-odd boys who shared Ravi’s cottage soon fled ~ because their guru would beat
them if they were inept. Even with Ravi, Baba
once lost his cool. He smacked his student’s hands, proclaiming, “You have no
strength in your wrists! Go and buy bangles to wear on your wrists. You are weak
like a little girl. You have no strength. You can’t even do this exercise…”
Hurt,
Ravi rose and stumbled to his cottage. He
hurriedly packed and rushed to the railway station. While he waited for the
next train, Baba’s son ~ now the famous sarod master Ali Akbar Khan ~ persuaded
him to return. When Ravi visited Baba, he
found him found cutting out a photograph of his favourite student to put into a
frame!
After
that, there was no looking back. Ravi Shankar was so moved that he learnt from
his guru with even greater zest. No wonder the world listens to his incredible
sitar with awe, even today.
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