Jasraj, who could sing ‘Om Allah Om’ on Ramnavami

About two months ago, quite out of the blue, I received a call from Pandit Jasraj. He had stayed with us on many occasions when he visited Bengaluru on his concert tours. We didn’t converse or call each other when he was travelling around India or overseas but when he visited Bengaluru, he usually chose to live in our house. And when at times he stayed elsewhere, he would always call me and invite me to his performances, which I never missed.

I was happy and surprised by his sudden call and asked him about the reason for it. I imagined he might be planning to visit my city after a long gap. He said he was calling from the US and he had been dividing his time between India and America over the last many years. He had numerous students there, was associated with a number of universities, and was presently unable to come to India because of the Covid-19 situation. I wondered still as to the purpose of his call. He simply said he wanted to speak to a few friends with whom he shared good warm memories. He recalled his days in Bengaluru at our home and asked about my wife. We chatted on, and I told him I looked forward to his visiting again.

The call by Panditji left a strange feeling in me. It warmed my heart and brought both a smile and tears. I mentioned to my wife that it seemed like it was a ‘thanksgiving’. I had a vague sense that Jasraj knew his time on the planet was drawing to a close.

The memories of those short stays at our home are still vivid. His silvery hair streaming behind, a glowing face, gentle eyes, a beatific and disarming smile, his soft-spoken winning ways and always impeccably attired in spotless white dhotis with vibrant borders, worn in traditional style, matched perfectly with colourful kurtas are all still etched in my mind. There was a radiant aura around him. That imagery of an arresting and attractive persona was entwined with his melodic voice that penetrated your soul.

When he was with us, he was mostly indoors in his room. And the hum of his ragas, swaras, aalaps wafted across and filled the house. At times, there would be the strum of the tamboora or notes of the harmonium, too, when his accompanying artists came to visit him before the concert. To me, those melodies and strains are as precious as his grand concerts.

Often, there were streams of admirers who would walk in unannounced and it was a source of annoyance, but when we could snatch an hour alone with him, I would draw him into conversations about other music legends, both Hindustani and Carnatic singers. Once, he narrated an interesting experience that occurred during a concert festival in Kolkata many decades ago. He was a young artiste at the time, and there was the much older but legendary Semmangudi Srinivas Iyer. They had both performed on the concert stage, but the highlight was Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, who had mesmerised the audience. When they were all together after their performances, Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan complimented Jasraj, but he had special praise for Semmangudi. Bade Ghulam Saab apparently said to Semmangudi, “You have great music in you. Your whole being embodies music and distinctions between Hindustani and Carnatic music vanished when I listened to you.” Artists have their own rivalries, but Jasraj had a generosity of spirit and genuine admiration for other great contemporary musicians such as Bhimsen Joshi.

Many of the legendary Hindustani singers and instrumentalists – Ustads Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, Abdul Karim Khan, Begum Akhtar, the Dagar brothers, Vilayat Khan and Bismillah Khan to name a few – practised Islam. But they sang and played instruments in praise of Hindu deities. Bade Ghulam Ali Khan’s bhajan ‘Hari Om tatsat’ is something that could figuratively transport one to heaven. So it was with Nadaswaram Samrat Sheikh Chinna Maulana Sahib. Temple musicians such as Ustad Bismillah Khan and Jesudas, who sang in all major temple festivals, mesmerised their audiences.

I still remember the day Pandit Jasraj and I drove together from my home to the famed annual Ramanavami festival at Fort High School in Bengaluru. He sang for nearly four hours. He was 80 at the time. The dais was alongside the deity of Rama. Towards the end of the performance, he sang ‘Mero Allah meherbaan’ and ‘Om Allah Om’. Immersed in that divine music, I was floating as if in a trance along with the rasikas. Then, I caught the words, Allah and Hari, in the same notes. My heart swelled and tears welled up in my eyes. He fused Om and Allah and dissolved himself and every one of us into that Supreme Reality. He held the audience in thrall doing so, just as he captivated us in an equal spell singing ‘Om Namo Bhagawate Vasudeva’, his signature bhajan.

In that instant, he transcended all religious barriers and carried everyone into a celestial bliss. That, to me, is his greatest gift and legacy to India and the rest of mankind, which is today in real danger, “broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls.”

Pandit Jasraj must be singing to the Gods and smiling down from the heavens. His melody continues to ring in our hearts. As poet PB Shelley said, “Music, when soft voices die, vibrates in the memory.”

(The writer is a soldier, farmer and entrepreneur)