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Kishori Amonkar soared despite media neglect of the arts

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8 years ago

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Kishori Amonkar soared despite media neglect of the arts

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]With the passing away of the vocalist, just a week before her 85th birthday, the world of Indian classical music has lost one of its greatest geniuses of all time

By Saeed Naqvi

As soon as I read that Kishori Amonkar was no more, I called up Raghu Rai, the pioneering photographer. Raghu had, with me in tow, done a remarkable photo feature on Kishori. Here was an occasion to republish the photographs of our greatest classical singer. Connoisseurs would place Ustad Amir Khan on the same pedestal, but I have my own very subjective preferences.

Raghu’s response was something of a shock: “Where is there any space for the arts in the Indian media?”  

I had momentarily deluded myself that a singer of such brilliance, would, in her passing away, generate fierce competition between media houses to show the best of Kishori. I had forgotten that, by and large, there is no hospitality accorded to culture in either print or our burgeoning TV channels. And this is not a new phenomenon.

True, by the time of Kishori Amonkar’s death, classical music had reclaimed sufficient audiences to warrant front page coverage and reasonable obituary notices in the past 25 years. Amir Khan, Bhimsen Joshi, Kumar Gandharva, Hirabai Barodekar, Mallikarjun Mansur, Ali Akbar Khan, Vilayat Khan, Ravi Shankar, Nikhil Banerjee did not go into the sunset unnoticed. The last three or four names were towering banyan trees in whose shadow comparable talents—Abdul Halim Jaffer Khan, for instance—were dwarfed. The Hindu’s Friday Review did have Kishori on the cover.

What has never existed is a tradition of knowledgeable music critics. During a seminar organized by the late Dr Narayana Menon, then director general of All India Radio, Yehudi Menuhin, great violinist, pointed to musicologist Nicholas Nabokov (brother of Vladimir Nabokov, of Lolita fame) seated opposite him.

“I perform better when Nicholas is in the audience.”

That level of art criticism the Indian media has never aspired for. Professional dilettantes, not critics, have been the order. Kishori Amonkar soared despite media neglect of the arts

So, Raghu’s plaint stands. In fact when we entered The Statesman on Barakhamba Road, in 1965 for our first journalistic employment, the newspaper boasted of no regular critics for cinema, theatre, music, dance, painting. And The Statesman was numero uno of Indian newspapers those days.

Much before feminism became a vogue, Amita Malik (Amy as we called her) burst upon the scene with her breezy, aggressively Brahmo partisanship, always tipping the scale for the Bengali particularly if there was a Punjabi in the bargain. This probably derived from Amy’s unhappy marriage with a sophisticated broadcaster from Government College, Lahore. She was India’s first cinema, radio and (when TV arrived) television critic. She was, like all critics, not on the paper’s staff. Amy made a pittance, lobbying mostly with Lakshman, the news editor’s secretary, to inflate the column inches on the basis of which her cheque of a few hundred rupees was delivered to her every month.

The cultural scene in the media was dominated by a Hungarian of great elegance, Charles Fabri. Maurice Chevalier could have learnt a thing or two from Dr Fabri’s flirtatious style with some of India’s greatest dancers. Once he turned up in the reporter’s room with a brochure on Indian dance, placed his felt hat on a Remington typewriter and, smacking his lips, turned the pages—“Damyanti Joshi, Yamini, Indirani…” Closing the brochure, he looked at us triumphantly. “I have kissed them all.”

Fabri was a pioneer in building up the capital’s art and theatre scenes as well. He died in virtual penury.

Kishori had begun to make waves but it was her mother, Mogubai Kurdikar, who made a mark on Pandit Shingloo, The Statesman’s Hindustani music critic. He was a tall man of aristocratic bearing, a Java Dawson cigar from Trichy between his teeth was as much part of him as his long sherwani and matching cap which did not cover the silver-white ringlets up to the nape of his neck. He walked into concerts armed with a pad, pencil, rubber and a torch. No sooner had the “alaap” begun, than Shingloo’s torch was focused on the pad balanced on his knees. His pencil would race along until there was something resembling a false note. Instantly, the rubber was brought into play, making room for more critical adjectives to be inserted.

Shingloo was the darling of the news desk because at 10 pm sharp, at whatever stage the concert may have been, Shingloo’s copy, precisely nine inches in a single column, was delivered to a beaming chief sub, because it was well in time for the city edition.

For Carnatic music and dance, Subbudu was matchless. During the winter “Season” at the music academy, Mylapore, Chennai, a dancer of means would buy Subbudu’s up and down second class train ticket and look after his board and lodging for the duration of what in my experience is one of the world’s greatest festivals of dance and music. Subbudu’s financier would, of course, receive a puff in direct proportion to favours done. But all other performances came in for critical scrutiny by a razor sharp mind.

It did not matter that Subbudu was a lower division clerk in North Block. He was a quintessential Brahmin, steeped in music–that is what mattered.

Negligible or zero priority accorded to the music critic by the media magnates impacted deeply on Kishori Amonkar’s emotional makeup. Her tantrums became notorious. In fact her pain was deeper. She could not forget the shabby treatment meted out by organizers in days when women singers like Kesarbai Kerkar, Hirabai Barodekar and, above all, her own mother, Mogubai, were shuffling themselves out of their “bai” identity.

A genius like Kishori would have none of it, almost to the point of being prickly. At a performance in which Chief Minister Farooq Abdullah was present, the clattering of saucers, pans and cups would not stop even after Kishori had taken the stage. She furrowed her brow and held the chief minister in a fierce gaze: “You are not on a prostitute’s terrace; you are in the durbar of an artist.”

I would put it down as one of the more difficult assignments, that interview with her. She would not open up until she had reduced us to shaky amateurs. Eventually she psyched us down to where she wanted us to be–as her “rasias” or devotees.

I do not know whether she kept up her mother’s tradition to visit “gharana” guru Alladiya Khan’s grave for floral offerings on March 14, his death anniversary.

As for her singing, there will not be another. Momin’s couplet encapsulates it:

“Us ghairat e naheed ki

 har taan hai Deepak

Shola sa lapak jaaye hai,

 awaaz to dekho.”

(Each taan or ascending passage of that singing bird is like the Deepak raga; her notes touch the upper octaves like a leaping flame.) [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

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Book reviews

Walking On The Razor’s Edge: The path of the seeker

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4 months ago

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July 19, 2024

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The Power of Karma Yoga by Gopi Chandra Das (Jaico Books) is an attempt to unravel the mystique of the Bhagavad Gita in the contemporary context. Is Lord Krishna’s counsel to Arjuna still relevant in today’s time and social space ? How can the timeless teachings of Lord Krishna be adopted by people struggling to cope with the stresses and challenges of modern life? Is there a key teaching which can be easily adopted by stress-torn people? These and many more questions are answered by the author in his easy-to-read style.

The basic premise is that the stress is a function of identity; identity with ego or with role-playing. We all play roles in life: in the family, the office and in the social sphere. These roles demand close identification and exact their cost by way of fear, frustration and failures.

The way out is to ease one’s sense of identity with one’s temporal roles. At the metaphysical level, it means keeping oneself in a detached state from one’s ego. This requires sustained spiritual discipline, but automatically yields to mental distancing with mundane roles as well. No wonder the Katha Upanishad compares the spiritual path to a razor’s edge.

Lord Krishna sought to instil this detached perspective in Arjuna by underlining the perishable nature of the body and the transitory nature of the world. However, the key is to strike a balance between total detachment and total attachment. The golden mean is attained by letting go with discrimination. If we detach too much, it will become difficult to perform our duties; if we cling too much, the material will become a millstone. The idea is to be in the world and yet not be of it. As the Persian saint Abu Said said, “To buy and sell and yet never forget God.”

Detachment, however, doesn’t mean irresponsibility. On the contrary, it means working with utter responsibility; with a sense that the job at hand is a moment to glorify the divine. It is not only work for work’s sake; work is taken up as a tool for self-realization. This is more deeply grasped if we acknowledge that the Gita is not only a handbook of divine knowledge or spiritualised action but essentially a guidepost for the man treading the path of enlightenment.

Sri Aurobindo says: “The Gita is not a weapon for dia­lectical warfare; it is a gate opening on the whole world of spiritual truth and experience, and the view it gives us embraces all the provinces of that supreme region. It maps out, but it does not cut up or build walls or hedges to confine our vision.”

Or as Paramahansa Yoganananda puts it: Gita sheds light on any point of life in which the devotee finds himself in.

Delving yet further, Gopinath explains in the book that letting go is made easy by the practice of apagriha, or being unattached to desires with conscious control on attachment-driven strivings. In the process, one’s motive gets transformed from want-driven to purpose-driven. The aim, at the highest level, being self-realization: the acme of spiritual strivings. For all material strivings ought to be in essence spititual strivings.

When we shift from want-driven to purpose-driven action, the need for personal validation ceases. In our quest for a spiritual-centric action mode, yagna plays an important role. The concept of yagna is transposed from a religious fire-rite to diurnal mundane acts in which personal motives are quenched. As the borderline between the spiritual and the material gets increasingly dissolved, the quest for enlightenment becomes the summum bonum of life.

The direction and blessings of a sadguru is also needed in this eternal quest for soul freedom. In the ultimate sense, the material life and its duties become a stepping stone for a higher life which man embraces to achieve the state of kaivalya. The book lucidly interweaves real-life stories with philosophical concepts, which make for interesting reading.

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Entertainment

Justin Bieber shares unseen pictures from Anant Ambani and Radhika Merchant pre-wedding sangeet

Justin Bieber’s energetic performance on Friday was the highlight of the sangeet ceremony, which took place at the Nita Ambani Convention Centre in Bandra, Mumbai.

Published

5 months ago

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July 7, 2024

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Justin Bieber shares unseen pictures from Anant Ambani and Radhika Merchant pre-wedding sangeet

Global popstar Justin Bieber brought the energy at Anant Ambani and Radhika Ambani’s pre-wedding sangeet on July 5 in Mumbai. The soon to be married couple (wedding in July 12th) was spotted enjoying themselves as Bieber belted out his hits. While glimpses from the night went viral earlier, Bieber has now shared unseen photos and videos from his memorable trip to India.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9GAM8GI91F/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=24b3f57f-b3b7-4956-9144-a3e6c0230b27&img_index=1

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9GBcUqSJ0m/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=24b3f57f-b3b7-4956-9144-a3e6c0230b27&img_index=1

The heartwarming pictures show Justin Bieber bonding with Anant Ambani and Radhika Merchant and their family. In one picture Justin stands with Anant and Radhika, all three dressed festively for the sangeet ceremony. Another photo captures a casual moment where Justin Bieber is seen chatting with Akash Ambani on a couch while Anant and Radhika are posing with him.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9GANRboRp6/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=24b3f57f-b3b7-4956-9144-a3e6c0230b27&img_index=1

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9GA3DLywxs/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=24b3f57f-b3b7-4956-9144-a3e6c0230b27&img_index=1

The group also posed for a larger picture that included Shloka Mehta and Anand Piramal. The final photos show Justin Bieber and Anant Ambani engaged in a friendly conversation, solidifying the warm atmosphere of the visit. Justin’s trip to India started on Friday morning with his arrival in Mumbai.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9GAOBRoO00/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=24b3f57f-b3b7-4956-9144-a3e6c0230b27&img_index=1

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9FvfWxIpQX

That night Bieber transformed the Jio Convention Centre into a party zone with his hit songs and celebrities like Salman Khan and Alia Bhatt grooved along with him. Videos circulating on social media show Justin Bieber dancing with Orry and receiving a hug from Alaviaa Jaffrey( daughter of Javed Jaffrey). According to reports Justin Bieber has been paid $10million for this special performance.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9GAO8_I5NH/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=24b3f57f-b3b7-4956-9144-a3e6c0230b27&img_index=1

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9Fu5I5oxBm

Bieber’s energetic performance on Friday was the highlight of the sangeet ceremony, which took place at the Nita Ambani Convention Centre in Bandra, Mumbai. The singer made the guests groove on his songs Baby, Love Yourself, Peaches, Where Are You Now and Sorry. Bieber’s fresh off his triumphant return to the stage once again set the internet ablaze with his electrifying performance at Anant and Radhika’s sangeet ceremony.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9Fv2nuI1_e

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Entertainment

Yashraj Mukhate collaborates with Amit Trivedi for Mann Dhaaga song

In a post circulating on Instagram Yashraj Mukhate talks about his experience of listening to Amit Trivedi’s music and recalls how he had always dreamt of collaborating with Amit Trivedi. He said his dream came true 2 years later in 2024 where he collaborated with Trivedi on the song Mann Dhaaga.

Published

8 months ago

on

March 16, 2024

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Amit Trivedi is known for his soulful compositions which weave profound lyrics, captivating music lovers. His songs spark a deep desire in aspiring artists to collaborate with him. Music producer and You Tuber Yashraj Mukhate had immense admiration for Trivedi’s artistry. In a post circulating on Instagram Yashraj Mukhate talks about his experience of listening to Amit Trivedi’s music and recalls how he had always dreamt of collaborating with Amit Trivedi.

He said his dream came true 2 years later in 2024 where he collaborated with Trivedi on the song Mann Dhaaga. He wrote that he had been listening to the entire Dev D Album carefully in 2012. And he kept listening to it on loop for 3 weeks. He continued to listen to Amit Trivedi compositions in Aisha, Kai Po Che, Udaan, Lootera, Queen, Fitoor continuously. He said he could not stop himself and became a big fan of the music director. He said he started dreaming of meeting his idol one day and collaborating with him.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C4hUSe1osw2/

He recalled that he had to download songs from songs.pk and listen to them. He said the songs kept running inside his mind all through the day. He added that he even remembered Amit Trivedi’s ad jingles word for Fanta, Frooti, Dish TV and all of them.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C35NUIVNz5h/

Mukhate said he always dreamed of meeting Amit Trivedi and wanted to thank him for giving this experience. The post has gone viral on social media with 96,445 likes till now. Large number of social media user commented on the social media post where one user Parth said the Yashraj Mukhate was truly an inspiration. One user said his dedication had brought him to level. One user said a man should make all his dreams come true by going through one hustle at a time.

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