Moments with a legend
ALKA RAGHUVANSHI
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A portrait of Ustad Bismillah Khan from the book "A Moment in Time with Legends of Indian Arts"
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The shehnai is the most difficult instrument to master
PHOTO: V. Sudershan
VARIED MOODS A file photo of Ustad Bismillah Khan.
In my mind, Ustad Bismillah Khan despite his chronological age, will live on like the angry young/old man that he was. I can still feel the chill of that winter morning and the motorcycle ride as photographer Manish Swarup wound his way to the walled city...
As I panted my way up the steep red sandstone stairs, I couldn't help wondering how he, at his age, negotiated his way up. The place was a modest hotel in Fatehpuri, the veritable end of Chandini Chowk. The person who had dragged me out of bed at an unearthly hour was the octogenarian shehnai maestro Bismillah Khan.
"I am only free very early in the morning," he had warned me the previous evening, as he sat in the green room of the Siri Fort auditorium, tuning with his accompanists before a concert. With three concerts in three days and an award rolled in for good measure, he was certainly active for his age.
The maestro was offering namaz, we were told. We waited. After half an hour he emerged — beaming. "Shall we sit in the sun," he asked. The familiar white stubble, a white and blue checked lungi and a tattered grey pullover were as natural as his eastern Uttar Pradesh lehja. The moment he started talking in that lilting Bhojpuri-Banaras accent, any illusions about his age were immediately shattered. For all his smiling, grandfatherly countenance, he could well be the archetypal angry young man.
"The shehnai is the most difficult instrument to master and has the ability to dominate and override all other instruments. Other musicians are scared to let it grow," he crackled.
. By this time, a small group had gathered around him in the courtyard. Like most musicians of the earlier generation, Bismillah too loved playing to this permanent gallery of admirers, though whether or not he did that in his music was another matter.
When I persisted in asking why there were so few exponents of the instrument, he practically growled, "The easiest thing in the world is to ask a question. And you know what the most difficult thing is? To answer it." Suitably reprimanded, I still insisted on the answer. "How can there be growth? The shehnai is an instrument that finds takers only among the poorer classes, while a sitar or sarod player will invariably hail from the upper classes. So neither do they have the means nor the education to project themselves. That is why they languish unsung," declared the maestro. In fact, even in his own family, while two of his sons and a couple of grandsons practise the shehnai, one of his sons runs a grocery shop in Banaras. Bismillah Khan was farsighted enough to ensure that one of his grandsons learnt to speak in English. "So that when I go to America-vemerica I don't have any problem. Earlier when I took one of my grandsons to America, he lost his head and decided to stay there. Now I am training this fellow." The fellow in question seemed happy to hang on the fringes.
No objections
What about the women in the family? Did he allow any of them to play? "No. As for me, it has become my means of livelihood. But as it is forbidden in my religion, none of the women were allowed to learn," he had said. But he was also equally quick to clarify that he had nothing against women learning per se. "If it was permitted in my religion, I would have shown the world a thing or two," he had thundered.
At one level he was a staunch Muslim, on the other hand he was a permanent fixture at the Vishwanath temple in Banaras, where he used to go practically everyday to perform when he was in town. Isn't playing in the temple against his religion? "Have I been going since yesterday? My ancestors and I have been playing in that temple for centuries. A temple is not the personal property of anyone. The gods belong to everybody. Music is one thing that brings the Hindus and the Muslims together. Why should it be used to divide?" he asked.
It was perhaps this synthesis of tradition and culture in his creativity sans the divisiveness of any kind of fundamentalism that had led him to declare: "Human beings have to learn to become humane first. They are closer to the devil. Those who divide, cannot reach there," he had said, pointing heavenwards. "Maano to devta, nahin to pathar to hai hi — to a believer even a stone is God incarnate."
How about the arrogance that is typical of half-baked knowledge, I wondered? "Like the proverbial tree laden with fruit, true knowledge is not lightweight. But in the quest for just that right note, a true artiste can forgo everything. For without that particular note, the musician goes through hell. It is like being alive when you want to die," he said intensely. For the maestro believed, "Ek sadhe, sab sadhe, sab sadhe sab jaye."
How long does it take to master the shehnai? "One lakh years!" had come the pat reply, without skipping a `taal'
"A Moment in Time with Legends of Indian Arts" is brought out by the Publications Division, Government of India.
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