From the melodic silence...

tabla maestro

The pitter-patter raindrops of the monsoon afternoon is in tandem with the quiet neighbourhood of north Kolkata, as I wait for Pandit Kumar Bose, the virtuoso tabla player, in the simply decorated drawing room.

There are awards, books on music, and photographs of those who matter to him — his father (his first guru), mother (an accomplished musician), his daughter, who is making waves as a vocalist and researcher on Vaishnavite musical tradition. There’s also a treadmill.

Indeed, Kumar Bose turns out to be an enigmatic personality as he sits down for an alochana (discussion) on his musical philosophy and journey.

The Sangeet Natak Akademi-winning percussionist belongs to a musical family, true, but as a youngster he wasn’t sure what he wanted. “My father, Pt Biswanath Bose, a renowned tabla player, taught me the basics. I even took part in a competition at the age of five and won it, but I was too naughty to concentrate on anything,” he says. Meanwhile, he remembers engaging in football, swimming, and even weightlifting.

Something changed when he was around 15 years old. “My father took me to a function at Mohammad Ali Park (in central Kolkata). That day, the legendary tabla player Pt Samta Prasad was performing. I felt a spark touched my soul. I told my father that I wanted to go home. Then, I went straight to my room and started playing in the dead of night. From then on I practised madly, any time of the day, whenever the urge took over me,” he recalls. Bose told his disciplinarian father that he wanted to devote his time to playing the tabla, even if it meant missing his school. The musician in the father understood and arranged for private tuitions so he could take up the school-leaving exam.

The untimely death of his father jolted Bose. “He was my guru. I felt I had lost my anchor,” he says. His father was also the sole earning member and things at home were difficult. But his mother egged him on to not lose sight of his aim.

Life was on an even keel when he went to Banaras to meet Pandit Kishan Maharaj to enroll as a student. Why did he choose the Banaras gharana, considered as the most rigid among the gharanas? “My father belonged to that gharana, my grandfather — who played the srikhol — loved it too. So I felt an affinity.” The guru-shishya pair clicked. “I still can’t forget the long conversations on the universality of music and its philosophy that went late into the night. Guruji was strict, but he was soft-hearted. I have learnt so much from him!”

 Bose has now opened a gurukul a few kilometres away from Kolkata, where the students have to be self-sufficient in every way. “They cook, they wash their clothes, and practise. That’s all I want from them. People talk about genius or inherent talent, but without hard work everything can go to waste, especially in classical music,” he believes. Bose is known to be a teacher who never spares those who take practice sessions lightly. “You must give time and effort if you want to achieve something.”

Bose feels fortunate that he has been able to collaborate with Pt Ravi Shankar (for more than a decade) and other icons like Ustad Vilayat Khan, Ustad Imrat Khan, Ustad Amjad Ali Khan, Pt Nikhil Banerjee, Pt Birju Maharaj, Pt Shiv Kumar Sharma, Pt Hari Prasad Chaurasia, among others, as well as with Western classical musicians Yehudi Menuhin, Zubin Mehta, and Iranian thumba player Semurani. “I felt there was something classic about them... their thoughts, their dreams. Even George Harrison, I found, was much beyond his pop-star image, knowledgeable about world music and religion.”

On the subject of percussion instruments, Bose asserts that the tabla is the most versatile. “It can maintain scale and tone. A drum can create excitement; a tabla can make you cry,” he says. He is known for the style of using the baayan (played with the left hand, like a bass drum) which traditionally is to keep the beat, while the dayna (played with the right hand), with more intricate finger-work, is conceived as the instrument’s mainstay. “I have my own philosophy about it. My guru, Kishanji, said that the percussion is like aag (fire), naari (female), akash (sky); the baayan is paani (cool like water, and romantic — the balancing factor.) Both are complementary and hence the magic. I try my best to express that feeling.”

He cherishes the memories of playing by the Ganges in Banaras while taking talim from his guru, or just sitting during early dawn to absorb the silence. “The best music is in the silence,” he says. Bose is optimistic about Indian classical music. “Music is god-given; it cannot die. When you listen to music and enjoy its nuances, it touches your heart. It’s brahmananda — pure joy — and that is god.” 

The Walk-in Search of the Instinct, a documentary created by his nephew and disciple Rohen Bose, is about him. Another one awaits completion. But the once-naughty boy who evolved into a devotee of music still tries to catch its essence that pervades the universe in rhythmic silence.