Ravindra Yavagal, is one of the finest tabla players in the country. He is widely sought after and his tabla is never short of a nuanced music. This eminent musician was trained by the maestro, Pt. Seshagiri Hangal, who passed away recently. Yavagal remembers his long association with his guru that spanned for over four decades.
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My father, Ramachandra Yavagal, had a lot of interest in the fine arts. Apparently, when he was a little boy, he had to just listen to a song once and he could reproduce it the next instant. He was particularly good with film songs. The neighbours just loved listening to my father and all of them took him along to watch a film; on returning, they would make him sing those songs to their heart’s content. As a result of this, my father became a film buff. In those days, families were conservative and they didn’t hold music in high esteem. My grandmother would apparently reprimand him each time he expressed his desire to sing. All his desires to learn music were curbed. He had also started to play the tabla just by ‘listening’.
My father had a job in the Railways for a while. I remember a station master called Mani master who knew Carnatic music. I was four years old, but I would play the tabla on my own, listening to him. My father recognised my interest and bought a tabla for me. He put me under the tutelage of the reputed Veeranna Kamkar, but was always looking for an “ideal guru”. While my lessons were going on, he kept his search on. He, apparently had been following Seshagiri Hangal very closely, and finally decided that he should be my teacher. When I was taken to him, I was 11-years-old.
It was a complete change of scene for me. My guru, Veeranna Kamkar, was a bubbly sort of a person, always encouraging his students. “Wah, how well you played!”, “I am sure you can do better”, etc. But Seshagiri Hangal was completely different. He was very quiet and withdrawn. He would neither praise nor reprimand. There would be no reaction whatsoever. Initially, I used to feel very disappointed. I used to go to his house every day. All my practice was completely in his presence. I used to spend long hours there, eagerly waiting for a word of praise. And it would never come. After 3-4 months of practice there would be a new lesson, and that was something I always looked forward to. Once, I told my father about this, and he immediately replied, “You should trust your guru. He knows what to give you when. Don’t be in a hurry.” This was always the case as long as my father lived, he would always help me recover from my ups and downs. “Be your guru’s slave,” he used to say. Learning under guruji was a slow process, but the taleem was solid.
But in the days to come, I understood my guru better. He was a very understated and mild mannered person. His love for me was beyond words. I learnt to see it in the changing expression of his face, in his suggestions, in his gestures. I began to observe and understand his ways – it meant a lot to me. For instance, in the 80s, I used to be the accompanist for several artistes at a stretch during the Kundagol Sawai Gandharva festival. The concerts would begin in the night, and my first break would be only at 4 a.m. I would have a gap of an hour, before I went back to stage again. My guru was very proud that I had earned a good name. But it was not in his personality to tell me. Instead, as soon as I came backstage, he would be there waiting for me. “Ravi, go have a wash. Get something to eat and have some tea,” that was the most he could say. This may sound untrue, but not even once in all these years, did he tell me “you have played well.” If anyone told him, “Ravi played very well”, he would nod his head with a smile. Once, my senior gurubandhu , Sooraj Purandhare who was a top class musician, praised me before guruji. “So, you’ve got a certificate from him. Now I guess you’ve mastered the tabla!” Guruji sounded irritated. He was scared that all this would get into my head and I would pursue name and fame. He desired that I remain a student of tabla always, passionately learning and practising.
I lost my father early, guruji was a father figure to me. He took care of me like I was one of his children. His mother and wife Shantakkka kept their kitchen open for me. In fact, I was far more comfortable with them than guruji. I don’t remember a day when I have returned without eating. Not just me, guruji was particular that every student got something to eat.
He was a very sincere person, in everything. I am too small to talk about him, but I’ve remained amazed by the kind of homework he used to put in. Extremely systematic and organised. His tabla books were written so neatly, mentioning the date and time on which he learnt a particular kayda and from whom, etc. Not just that, his memory was so sharp that he remembered every single thing. Despite his handicap, and failing health, he never stopped thinking about the tabla. His hearing had failed, and he never heard any conversation. It was an effort to tell him what we wanted to. But recently a fellow tabla player, Gurumurthy Vaidya, took his son Roopak Vaidya, and made the child play before guruji. You know, he heard everything! And he even gave him advice. After that, we had all decided that we would take turns to go play before him, but that was not to happen – he passed away.
What I have got from him is immeasurable. Love, affection, knowledge… everything that I am today I owe it to him. If he didn’t hear from me for a single day, he would worry that I was unwell. I was indeed blessed to have a guru like him…
( As told toDeepa Ganesh )
