WHITHER
INDIAN MUSIC?
The
last twelve years following the achievement of
Today,
people flock in their thousands to musical concerts. Sixty years ago two or
three hundred people were considered a fairly good attendance at a musical
concert. But, now, these concerts have assumed colossal proportions. The fees
of the artists have also mounted up amazingly. The great Rahimatkhan
was after all an ‘Avaliya’ who did not charge a
single farthing for his incomparable music. But top-ranking artists like Alladiyakhan, Abdul Karimkhan, Balkrishnabua, Bhaskarao Bakhale, Pandit Paluskar, Faiyazkhan, could be heard on payment of
a mere fifty or seventy-five rupees. The current charges of first-class artists
have to be measured in terms of thousands. Formerly, the ‘tabla’
player used to be quite content if he was paid ten rupees. Now he would not
touch the ‘tabla’ unless he receives a crisp
hundred-rupee note. Be it summer or winter, thousands of men and women flock to
musical concerts today, pay fabulous admission fees, give generous rounds of
applause, and manifest their appreciation with such zest that the performing
artists might feel as though they were celestial ‘gandharva’s
come to earth for the benefit of the mortals! Ample proof is provided that,
apart from many other forms of madness which may or may not be attributed to
us, we are music-mad! Throughout the length and breadth of the country, there
goes on, today, day and night, a continuous swell of music! Surely our music
has today achieved a spring-time bloom, as never before! Surely, our people
have cultivated a remarkable understanding and love of music!
These
are happy thoughts indeed. But are they true?
Has
the number of people who understand music really increased during the last
twelve years? Has our music really progressed? How many of the present day
popular artists are of such a calibre that the great
artists of the former generation will have to bow to them? The artists whom we
heard four or five decades ago were equipped with music which was the product
of years and years of untiring practice, profound study and knowledge, and,
above all, an amazing mastery of voice and artistry. Do the present-day artists
show any evidence of
these
qualities? Can we point out a single musician of today who can be
unhesitatingly ranked with men like Faiyazkhan, Bhaskarao, Vazebua?
Can we point out a single ‘satar’ player who could be
compared with that wizard of the ‘satar’–Barkatulla? Do we find a single musician who can astound us
with the range of his voice, or fill us with ecstasy by the limpid sweetness of
his voice? Can we mention an artist who has a stock of four or five hundred ‘chisa’s (compositions), as the older musicians used to
have?
All
these questions will have to be answered in the negative!
Measure today’s musicians and instrumentalists by
their study and knowledge, and they would look mere dwarfs in comparison with
the former giants. There were no microphones in the days gone by, and yet
musicians like Bhaskarao sang in open ‘maifal’s, at
Could
it be said that there has come about an appreciable increase in people’s
understanding of music? Amongst the thousands who crowd at a musical concert,
how many souls can be found who possess a true understanding of music? How many
who have at least an elementary knowledge of the twelve musical notes? How many
who can tell ‘trital’ from ‘dadara’?
How many who know how many strings the ‘tambora’ has,
and in what notes they are set? Most of the men and women who flock to the
musical concerts come because it is the current fashion to do so, and because
it gives them an occasion to display their costly, fantastic clothes. There is
hardly any difference between the crowd at a musical festival and the mammoth crowd at the Brabourne Stadium come
to witness a test match.
How
wrong would it be then to point out the present popularity of musical concerts
and to argue that the financial success of these concerts is a sure indication
that the knowledge and love of music are spreading fast, and that our music is
progressing as it had never done before? On the contrary, there is enough
reason to suspect that the present growth of our music is only a misleading,
unhealthy obesity. The time has surely come when we must seriously think who
are the true promoters of our music, and who mere pretenders to the title,
camouflaged enemies?
The
inherent strength and beauty of our music are undoubtedly such that it should
have a perennial appeal, unaffected by the passage of time or the change of
environment. It is usual to say that, while the principle of ‘harmony’ rules
Western music, our music is principally governed by ‘melody’. It would be
simpler to remark that two fundamental features of our music are the ‘raga’
classification and the concept of the ‘tala’, out of
which have arisen the various ‘tala’ patterns. Those
who formulated and organized our music have developed both these features with
such thoroughness and such aesthetic sense that we have every reason to feel
deeply proud of our music, and even to believe that our music is incomparably
superior to the music of other countries.
And
yet it would be wrong to forget that the modern times are so essentially
different from the old times, that they would demand improvement
in both the performance and the propagation of our music.
The urgent need of the hour in the field of our music is two-fold. We must
abandon certain time-worn practices and myths, and we must graft on our music a
few new ideas. We are guilty of certain sins of commission and also of some
sins of omission. We shall succeed in preserving, and also enriching, the great
traditions of our music only if we are prepared to discard fossilized ideas and
to adopt certain new vigorous concepts, with a view to widen the appeal. of our
music. It would require a separate long article to examine the traditionally
accepted idea that specific ‘raga’s must be sung at prescribed hours of the day
and night, and also the idea that specific ‘raga’s evoke specific ‘rasa’s (that is ‘emotional moods’), and to prove how both
these ideas are unscientific. I shall, therefore, content myself here with
suggesting that the time has surely come when connoisseurs–and, of course, the
performing artists, too–must reassess the values of our musical ideas and
practices.
Even
though concerts of classical music draw large crowds of listeners, it will be
foolish to conclude that its appreciation has become wide-spread. On the
contrary, there are undeniable indications that there is a widening gulf
between ‘classical music’ and ‘light music’, and the public are being
increasingly drawn towards the latter. And no one is more responsible for this
growing popular distaste for classical music than the musicians themselves.
Let
us remember that what is known as ‘classical music’ is, after all, essentially
a science and not an art. Its appeal is to the ‘intellect’, and not to the
‘heart’, Classical music may thrill the listener’s intellect, but it does not
have the power to create emotional rapture. It is usual to say that music is an
art. But an art aims at arousing the exuberance of an emotional mood; and
classical music–however expertly sung–can never produce this effect. Faithful
purity of notes, the perfect correctness of ‘raga’, and the clever execution of
‘laya’ patterns–these are indeed wonderful forms of
artistry, which mark the first-rate performance of classical music. They will
indeed be hugely enjoyable. But the experience of the listener will have to be
described as ‘intellectual joy’–not ‘emotional delight’. Patterns of melody,
emanating from a human voice or an instrument, however rich and astounding they
may be, will fail to produce what I would like to call ‘the complete and full
delight’ of music, which can arise only from the co-ordinated
blending of melody, words, their meaning, and their emotional suggestion. The
present ever-widening gulf between classical music and light music will be
bridged only if our musicians and artists realise this.
In
the old days, music thrived under royal patronage. Today, it has to live on
public support. Formerly, the role of the common people was that of mere
listeners. Now, they are also the patrons of music. As a result of this change,
our musicians must carry out the delicate and difficult task of at once
pleasing the public and cultivating in their minds a musical taste of a high
order. On the one hand, they must acquaint the people with all the glories of
classical music, and, on the other hand, they must instil
as much artistic element in their performance as they can, so that listeners
will derive, from their music, true emotional delight.
Indian
classical music–whether of the Hindustani or the karnatak
type–as we hear it sung or played, has degenerated into such purely pedantic
acrobatics of ‘melody’ and ‘tala’ that they strike
the listener as emotionally dehydrated products which do not have the power to
touch the heart and to create ‘rasa’, which must be
the aim of any artistic performance, whether literary, pictorial, or musical.
The
impression which can be gathered after attending concerts of classical music is
that our musicians do not ‘sing’. They only go on playing on the instrument of
their voice, utterly ignoring the words of the composition, their meaning, not
to speak of their emotional suggestion. They do not give ‘music’, but only
long-winded bundles of repetitive monotonous ‘tana’s.
They mislead the audience into believing that these acrobatics constitute
Indian music, and the poor ignorant souls who make the majority of the crowd
swallow this misconception. People who come to listen to renowned musicians and
instrumentalists want to witness a cock-fight between the artist and the ‘tabla’ player. And, since such a cock-fight is the easiest
thing to perform, the artists oblige the crowd most willingly and repeatedly.
A
musical concert ought to be an artistic piece–like a lecture. Just as a lecture
must be a composite progressive whole, each succeeding point arising logically
out of the preceding, a musical concert too must be marked by a delightful
logical development–first the skilful ‘filling’ of the ‘ragini’,
then the transition to the ‘tana’s, followed by the ‘bol tana’s, then the full-chested ‘jamak tana’s’. And, above all, the basic composition–of which ‘tana’s and ‘meend’s and ‘murki’s are after all the decorations–must be presented
again and again with all its implications of meaning and emotion. If this does
not happen, the performance, however renowned the artist may be, cannot be
called a musical concert. It becomes a ‘tamasha’.
People have come to be fond of such ‘tamasha’s. The
musicians and artists say to the public, “Please yourselves, have ‘tamasha’s.” The musicians and artists cheat themselves and
their public. The people, in their turn, applaud the artists and cheat
them. Everyone joins in a huge hoax. A vicious circle of ignorance and humbug
goes round. There arises an illusion of music’s progress. In truth, true
musical talent and appreciation are both rapidly declining.
In
the old days, music had to be studied under a master. The pupil had to live in
the master’s house and win his good opinion and favour
by personal service. Now, there are classes and schools and colleges where
courses of musical instructions are taught. I am prepared to admit the
importance and value of bookish instruction and degrees. But there are certain
arts and branches of ‘knowledge which cannot be acquired from mere books and
courses. Their acquisition can come only from personal association, from close
contact between the teacher and the taught, and from years and years of
continued teaching and patient practice. Such devoted practice is today being
ignored. Artists hanker after cheap degrees. Even small lanes are crowded with
‘Sangit-Ratna’s and ‘Sangit-Acharya’s!
Our
music is progressing, if at all, in a horizontal line. Its vertical progress is
lamentable. Theoretically, one cannot object to books on music or courses of
musical studies and degrees. But there is definite danger in over-estimating
their value. First-class artists were never manufactured in schools and
colleges. The Goddess of Art will never smile on an artist who regards art as a
mere means of livelihood. Such devotees will always stand in ankle-deep,
shallow waters of knowledge. They will never reach the depths of what our
ancient musicians have described (in many a musical composition) as an ‘ocean
of music’. In the light of the light-hearted attitude of the present musicians
towards the study and practice of music, anecdotes of the bone-shattering labour, which the older musicians took, seem like fantastic
fairy tales. These artists of the older generation, whose names are deservingly
recorded as of giants, spent twelve to sixteen hours a day on their practice.
We are told that they spent several hours of the early morning in perfecting
their ‘kharja’. It is foolish to imagine that the
science of ‘Voice Culture’ was unknown to our ‘maestro’s, and that one must go
to America to initiate oneself in this science. All the present ills in the
field of our music arise from the fact that our musicians do not want profound
knowledge, do not want labour and effort, do not want
years and years of study. They want only one thing–cheap and quick publicity.
This is killing our music!
Listeners
of today are as guilty as the artists. No one seems to realise that listening
to music is as much an art as music itself. To hear music is certainly not an
irresponsible pastime to be indulged in by any one who can fling a few rupees
and buy a seat in the concert hall. The capacity to appreciate music–and
specially our classical music–can come only after one learns to, understand at
least the elements of ‘swara’ and ‘tala’, and the ‘raga’ classification. How many listeners of
such capacity can be found in the crowds which attend today’s musical
festivals? These vast audiences possess a crowd mentality, and their
musical taste is shallow and vulgar. Our artists naturally sing and play to the
gallery, and stoop to conquer, sinking to the level of dolts and fools. Real
high-class music is thrown to the winds, and there takes place an exhibition of
cheap acrobatics. One could wish there existed even a single courageous and
honest artist who would pull the ears of the audience and tell them that what
they applaud is not real music.
Listeners
must realise that they must try and cultivate a high standard of musical taste.
And musicians and artists must realise that it is their responsibility to
create such taste in the public.
Musical
concerts have today become a mere ‘business’. There is an all-round obsession
of the glamour of publicity. Music in which there is a beautiful blending of
science and art is becoming rarer and rarer. Ignorant people are pretending
that they possess a great love of music, and artists are fooling such audiences.
The future of our music would be bright and hopeful only if this vicious circle
is broken, and only if both the artists and the listeners begin to understand
their respective duties and responsibilities.