Resonance of silence

MUSIC AND STILLNESS

If anyone could claim to have a completely eclectic style in the Hindustani music firmament, it has only been Pandit Bhimsen Joshi. For over seven decades, he was the king of all that he surveyed, both on stage and in his personal life.

Today, Kalashri, his home in Pune, resounds with an uncanny silence. Confined to a wheelchair and bogged down by health problems, he maintains a disturbing quietude. Not that Joshi was voluble even in his hey days. He was a man of few words who would become particularly articulate when provoked, especially when it concerned music.

As a vocalist, the vistas he  traversed were boundless, a trait reflected equally in his personality, where he lived life on his own terms. Attitudinally, life and music for him were synonymous.  He is one artiste who has lived life quintessentially, and unapologetically.

Pandit Joshi started his musical journey by exploring the grammar of Kirana gharana and broke new ground. He then traversed gharanas with an easy grace. Nothing about his music appeared practiced.  His breath control was impeccable and his taans were full of vibrancy. Pandit Joshi’s sense and grasp of shruti ensured that the rest of the concert fell into place. From the spontaneous flow of taans emerged an incomparable staccato. It can be said that the Kirana Gharana found representation in him, and not vice versa, its characteristic sweetness not finding echo in him— Pandit Joshi’s singing revelled in its masculinity, although his voice modulation remained symbolic of the gharana. Such was his genius.

The fiercely independent Pandit Joshi  never hesitated to speak his mind. At a concert at Bangalore’s Chowdaiah Memorial Hall in 1985, when the then chief minister  and his coterie walked out even as he began his alaap, Pandit Joshi asked others who wanted to leave to do so forthwith. He then sang for over three hours, making it one of his most memorable concerts. Never known to play to the gallery, he once retorted: “It is an insult to an artiste. Do you think this is an orchestra that you can ask for songs”?

One is enveloped by a flood of memories when one visits this giant of a musician in Pune. What remains in lasting memory is his silence that is not one of stoicism or even resignation, but born of a sense of equanimity, visible in his sharp glances, a few contextual words most of all, and a strength of character on his face.  Panditji’s mental faculties  are as sharp as ever, yet he chooses to be silent about his current state, even while his family points at his life of dignity and something far beyond—that he is still living life on his own terms.

 There is little of the music world in his life now. Yet, one walks away with a great feeling of admiration. And in this there is a greatest tribute to the music Pandit Joshi so loved and a lasting message to his admirers: accept life as it comes, in all its varied hues.

Capturing Pandit Joshi’s life and music is a huge challenge as even at best of times he had been a man of few words, much more so now. “He doesn’t talk much now. He is in a world of his own; yet, he is not inert. Even the news of his being bestowed the Bharat Ratna evoked a mere nod. Today, as ever before, he revels in nothingness”, is how his youngest son Srinivas Joshi sums up Pandit Joshi’s philosophy.

Srinivas, also a Hindistani vocalist, is literally the voice of his father today — he speaks at length about Pandit Joshi, revealing an artistic splendour that is full of energy and accomplishments, and a personal life that is as animated and as it is individualistic.

“He is a lion on stage, but quiet otherwise. He is an enigma, not easily communicative, but his life itself says it all. His flight from home as a boy of nine, in search of a music teacher, was verily the beginning of his life. Although there is a gap of two generations between us, I have learnt much more from him by the way he lived than from his words”, says Srinivas.

Panditji’s home in a serene locality of Pune is as unpretentious as the man himself.  There is hardly any evidence of the innumerable awards that have come his way. “His contemporaries are gone. He has lived a wonderful life without regrets. From the age of nine he has been on his own, becoming street-smart in a positive sense. He has been very adventurous, taking his failures in his stride,” reminisces Srinivas.

As a tribute to his father’s admirable spirit, Srinivas is bringing out two CDs to coincide with the annual Sawai Gandharv festival, slated for December nine  this year. Titled Swaarakruti, the novel concept with its thematic content will touch on the “various aspects of Panditji’s life—his music and personality traits.” Srinivas, a Hindustani vocalist, says he has tried to encapsulate it in a dozen bandishes composed by him.