A split second after Arun Kashalkar, 74, completed singing the first phrase of Darbari, listeners audibly drew in their breath, stunned by its redolence. He had plunged them into the deep end from the get go. In the next 23 minutes, he took listeners on a journey further into the heart of Darbari.
It was the fourth of six raags he presented on June 15 evening at the Sharda Sangeet Vidyalaya in Bandra. He had opened with a leisurely Shyam Kalyan, which included a scintillating nom-tom alaap, followed by Nand, Barwa, Darbari, Agre-gharane-ka-Chandrakauns and Pancham. The renditions all had the hallmarks that make him such a special musician: the grand gayaki, a synthesis of the Agra, Gwalior and Jaipur gharanas; exquisitely chiselled phrases; the edge-of-the-seat excitement of every approach to the sam in each avartan; the progression of avartans that become denser and more varied in texture, with bol-baant, a variety of taans and trademark sargams, creating a clear architecture in a sweep up to the climax.
The concert was part of an ongoing festival showcasing 15 musicians singing six raags each, totalling 90, to mark the music school’s nonagintennial anniversary. Two days later, listeners got treated to morning raags rendered by 85-year-old Sharad Sathe — Lalit, Vibhas, Ramkali, Bhairav Bahar, Devgandhar and Goud Sarang. Having synthesised different strands in the Gwalior gharana, Sathe is its pre-eminent representative today. Like Kashalkar’s Darbari, his Bhairav Bahar stood out, full of crackling phrases and twists that took listeners by surprise. Concerts seem to peak at mid-point with a special magic. In his renditions, increasingly complex avartans include bol-banav, gamak taans and powerful meends – all traversing an impressive two-and-a-half octaves.
Doyens of khayal
What makes the two singers edgy are the wide sense of possibility in their raag explorations and an intensity engendered by a tight interweaving of melody and rhythm, among other nuances. In an ironic reversal of conventional wisdom about risk-taking youth, it is these two aging musicians who today represent the cutting edge of khayal music.
How has this come to be? Their age actually works in their favour. The raags have had that much more time to ripen in their consciousness, allowing them to bring out increasingly delicate flavours for listeners’ delectation.
Mere time, however, is no guarantee of yielding ever more finely wrought music. The length and provenance of a musician’s taleem most often determines the frontiers of possible growth. In this regard, Kashalkar and Sathe are difficult to match. Kashalkar learnt music continuously from the age of five to 40: first from gurus in eastern Maharashtra until the age of 23, and then in Mumbai, from giants such as Gajananbuwa Joshi and Babanrao Haldankar, with a couple of years under Ram Marathe. Sathe learnt from the age of 17 from the Gwalior great D.V. Paluskar for six years, from musicologist B.R. Deodhar for another decade and a further three decades from gharana stalwart Sharadchandra Arolkar.
Adding to taleem has been a constant evolution. Although they have taught and consistently performed for smaller groups of connoisseurs, these vocalists have not been part of the big concert circuit. This has given them the mental space and freedom to think about their art. In contrast, even the handful of committed musicians in the mainstream are in danger of stagnating because of the compulsions of the market.
Men with great self-respect, like their gurus, they have neither canvassed for concerts nor allied themselves with influential coteries. When someone asked Sathe why he had not done so, he might have spoken for Kashalkar as well when he answered with characteristic wryness: “It is not my cup of tea.” Perversely, therefore, these two musicians sound fresh and original at this age, not jaded and mechanical like many who perform in more glamorous settings, precisely because of the shameful neglect that they have suffered. This neglect has been a consequence of the dogged self-interest of influential promoters and fellow musicians, as well as the indifference, and perhaps ignorance of patrons, the media and listeners, among whom I count myself.
Yet both have shown generosity towards an ecosystem that has been apathetic towards their art — by inviting an array of musicians to perform at music organisations that they have run over the years. It is only over the past year, at this late stage, that they have become more visible.
The next generation
One can only hope that this travesty will not be visited upon a third generation — to students of these two maestros — in particular to two common students who consistently provide excellent vocal support — Mukul Kulkarni (37), and Vishal Moghe (33). By elegantly filling in pauses, they heighten their gurus’ renditions. They are interesting for a deeper reason — they offer glimpses of how younger voices and minds might render the gayakis of two remarkable khayal singers. Their stereophonic interventions are all the more alluring because they have contrasting musical personalities — Kulkarni tends towards a soothing sweetness while Moghe displays a gutsy effervescence.
Earlier, Kulkarni learnt from Sukhada Kane and Vikas Kashalkar, while Moghe learnt from Balasaheb Poochhwale. They are committed to their current gurus despite their distance from power centres because they respect their music. They are at the stage where they will benefit from exposure. It will be tragic if these fine and dignified young musicians, instead of being acknowledged for their discernment, end up paying for it.
Pt. Arun Kashalkar sings tomorrow at 6 p.m. at St Xavier’s College, as part of the Secret Masters’ Sessions Encore concert series, presented by the Indian Music Group and First Edition Arts. Entry is free.
