The past few months have been rough for music across global genres. Let's talk of Hindustani classical music. Thursday August 3 marks four months since legendary vocalist Kishori Amonkar left us. In the interim were sitar maestro Rais Khan and sarangi exponent Dhruba Ghosh.
On Monday morning, we read that Pune-settled vocalist Hussain Sayeeduddin Dagar was no more. It was an end of an era, as he was the last of the earlier generation of the famous Dagar Brothers family. Their style, dhrupad is the oldest of Hindustani classical music. Legends like Swami Haridas, Mian Tansen, Baiju Bawra, Gopal Nayak and Nayak Bakshu have been associated with this form. The word dhrupad is a mix of dhruva (constant or immoveable) and pada (poetry or verse). The music has been devotional and spiritual, and according to researchers, its origin goes back 15 centuries. But for most, dhrupad means the Dagars, and the two have been synonymous. There have been great research-oriented books by Humra Quraishi and R.K. Das on the role of the clan.
Today, vocalist Wasifuddin Khan and rudra veena player Bahauddin Dagar are taking the legacy ahead. There are very few members outside the surname who have been carrying the generation forward, and prominent names are the Gundecha Brothers and Uday Bhawalkar. All masters. Yet, a question normally asked is whether dhrupad is dying or even dead. The believers say that's not possible, and the form will live forever. Technically, it has had its own style, specially its nomtom alaap and the use of pakhawaj (percussion instrument) in its rhythmic structure. It's a magical experience for the serious, traditional and patient ear.
The other debate is on the popularity of the khayal vocal style over dhrupad. The former came much later and technically, there are differences between the two. Musicologists have analysed them in detail. In today's world, however, khayal rules. Look at most music festivals across India, and the fact is that they focus more on khayal vocalists or instrumentalists who play in non-dhrupad styles.
There are reasons for this. One is that most contemporary audiences have not been exposed to dhrupad, don't understand the intricacies and thus find it complicated. Secondly, there are fewer 'ticket-fetching' dhrupad artistes on the scene. Few 'stars' as compared to vocal khayal, instrumental or modern fusion.
Then, because of prior commitment, the few dhrupad artistes may not be able to perform in every festival. Finally, the teaching systems are mostly khayal-oriented, so parents who enrol their children to Hindustani invariably put them under khayal or instrumental guidance. Parents want their kids to be the next Kishori tai, Bhimsenji, Ravi Shankarji or even Zakir Hussain. Alternatively, they’re encouraged to be the next Mozart, Miles Davis or Jimi Hendrix. Very few parents want their little ones to be Dagar Bandhu.
There are dhrupad schools, yes. Some organisations like the National Centre for the Performing Arts in Mumbai and artistes like the Gundecha Brothers have taken the alternate route of having dhrupad workshops. Though the attendance is low, but there is a small interest which is encouraging.
To come back to Sayeed-saab's demise, it's definitely an end of an era. That's a common phrase used when great artistes pass away. Now, besides the artistes, why doesn't someone keep the era alive? The organisers and teaching institutions probably need to rethink their strategy. Some 'khayal' (imagination) has to be applied to the matter.
