In the late 80s -- a vibrant and lively period in the Indian cultural scene – Anup Jalota was a phenomenon. As a bhajan singer, he had taken music lovers by storm with his attention to poetry and his ability to blend elements of classical with the populist. Anup Jalota had charmed audiences across the nation. He was on the cassette player, on radio and on Doordarshan. There was hardly a music lover who didn’t know “Aisi Laagi Lagan” or “Rang De Chunariya”.
It was around this time, roughly; Times Music released the Bhaktimala series. It was star studded – Pt. Bhimsen Joshi, Pt. Jasraj, Gundecha Brothers, Shruti Sadolikar and more. For the very first time, it was on Bhaktimala that I heard the voice of the musician, Veena Sahasrabuddhe. Veena Sahasrabuddhe’s voice was unusual – it had a honey-dipped sweetness with an effortless mobility. It was infused with devotion, but also bore the intensity of a serious classicist. Her rendition of the beautifully composed “Deva Bade Dhata” was clearly a counterpoint to Anup Jalota: both their renditions sprung from the khayal tradition, but packed with different world views. The world of bhajans had expanded with a new interpretation.
The journey from this point moved backwards with Veena Sahasrabuddhe, and then one stumbled upon the 1987 Rhythm House two album gem, Tribute to Miya Tansen . To this day, the Bilaskhani Todi rendered by her in this album is among the best.
Trained by her father Pt. Shankar Shripad Bodas and her brother Pt. Kashinath Shankar Bodas, Veena Tai blossomed to be the torchbearer of the Gwalior gharana. Interestingly, the fact that she was trained by these two people was also in a way fusion of two different imaginations of music. While her father was a student of Vishnu Digambar Paluskar, her brother was deeply influenced by the distinct Pt. Kumar Gandharva. Both Paluskar and Kumar Gandharva are among the greatest khayal vocalists of all times, and in their own idioms, they had given the bhajan a very special place. If Paluskar in the later part of his musical life gave up khayal and rendered only bhajans, Kumar Gandharva took it to its spiritual heights. One can see in Veena Tai’s rendition of the bhajan, an unmistakable influence of both these styles, devotion coupled with a reflective philosophical self.
The most striking thing about Veena Tai’s soft, yet powerful voice was its conviction. A conviction that came not just from the confidence of her sound musical training, but of the values that were a part of her upbringing. There’s this famous story from her life that always comes to mind. Pt. Bhimsen Joshi during a visit to Pt. Bodas’ home happened to hear her and insisted that she sing at the Sawai Gandharva Festival. But the most important part of the story is that despite her exceptional talent and rigorous training, the concert stage or aspiration for worldly fame was never part of her dream. Excellence in music was a pursuit with an end in itself. She belonged to that group of artistes, more so women, for whom their artistry came before everything else. Reluctantly, she came to the concert stage, and the music world embraced her with pride and warmth. She became one of the leading musicians of the country.
Even fame has not been easy on women artistes. There is seldom any instance of them sitting in ivory towers and honing their musicianship. The extremely friendly and unassuming Veena Tai had remarked: “When you see me on stage you think that is everything. Do you know what all I have to juggle before I go on stage? Home, children, cooking, looking after relatives, students and then squeezing time out for practice!” Yet, the grace and austerity with which she carried forward the great musical tradition of which she was in the forefront speaks not only of herself, but the many women musicians who rose to the top through their undiminished doggedness of spirit. Veena Tai had studied Sanskrit, could play tabla, and was extremely conversant in English. She gave several lecdems to national and international audiences, and her music appreciation courses at IIT Kanpur was much sought after.
An interviewer once asked her about the shaping of her music. Veena Tai at length spoke about the greatness of her father, the fine musician her brother was. She recalled the vibrant musical atmosphere of her home, all the maestros who visited them and spent hours discussing music. Towards the end of her answer, she added a line about herself: “My music perhaps is formed by all these influences…” On the pinnacle of success, Veena Tai wanted to place her art at the feet of all her forefathers, the grand tradition to which she belonged and allow her music to speak for her.
Today, as this piece gets written, I wonder if memory and forgetfulness is as simple as this. Veena Tai, like all other great musicians, reside in many of us as a value of life. Pure passion rises above all odds that gender, class and caste keeps throwing at us.
….I want to surrender to the divine, immortal Yaman she sang.
