She was an embodiment of creativity

It was indeed a distinct morning. The cosy hall – Black Box, Kala Academy, Goa – was packed with connoisseurs who shared a special musical relationship with the diva of Jaipur Atrauli school, the late Kishori Amonkar. Those gathered knew her home, her music, the bandishes she sang, her compositions, but much of this knowing belonged to the latter half of her illustrious musical career when Kishori tai became the undisputed empress of khayal music. “I am going to focus on the poorvardh (the early half) of her music, between the years 1960 and 1985,” said Dr. Arun Dravid, setting the tone for his lecture demonstration titled, Rarely Heard Kishori Amonkar.

The senior most disciple of Kishori tai, Dr. Dravid remained a close associate for five decades: in the early years however, he was perhaps her only disciple and had the rare opportunity to watch the movements of her music from up close. After having listened to hundreds of live concerts of Kishori tai, having heard her recordings over and over again for several decades, Dr. Dravid, to this day, remains awe struck by the phenomenon she was. “She was srujanasheelata itself,” he professed.

The initial years of Kishori tai’s music are not so much in the public domain -- she did not trust anyone to record her music. “But she gave me custody of everything. I have preserved them with immense devotion and commitment,” said Dr. Dravid, who keenly watched her music transform, slowly and subtly. The mode in which music was preserved in those days – the reel tapes (some 150 of them) formed fungal layers and protecting them from getting obliterated was no easy task. A chemical engineer by training, Dr. Dravid ran them through isopropyl alchohol, and now they are digitized. “I have painstakingly preserved them. It is divine music and it should be there for posterity.”

In the years that Kishori tai shaped her music, legendary musicians from the Jaipur Atrauli gharana were reigning the music world. Her mother Ganatapaswini Mogubai Kurdikar, Pt. Mallikarjun Mansur, Surashree Kesarbai Kerkar, Pt. Nivruttibuva Sarnaik and a few others. As Dr. Dravid observed, Kishori tai absorbed her mother’s music with a rare perception. She also trained under other gurus, but she churned them all in her own vision of music that had the most striking sense of beauty. “The features as I notice in her music are chiefly four. She primarily changed the very character of khyal music. Her sense of shrutis or microtones – remarkably sensitive -- manifested so differently and brilliantly in her overall understanding as well as presentation of music. In her presentations, you could see how she briefly stepped beyond the strict grammar of the raga to shock the listener, but when she returned she infused it with beauty that she picked up in that brief sojourn. She articulated the lyrics (bandishes) in a manner that they carried the essence of the emotions of the raga itself,” explained Dr. Dravid, as he played a stunning piece in raga Bihari. He also played a longer piece by her in raga Savani Kalyan to demonstrate how it reflected an aesthetic manifestation of the disciplined character of the essence of Jaipur Gharana.

The entire talk was peppered with Tai’s old recordings, and the audience soaked in her ethereal artistry. When it switched back to the lecture mode, it hardly seemed like non-music: there was a seamless musical unity to both. Tai’s persona too was a rich blend of the intellect and emotion. She worked on her music with unbelievable doggedness, and she thought about it with equal rigour. She read the ancient treatises on music like the Natyashastra, Sangeeta Rathnakara and others, and implemented many things into her music. “For instance, I don’t know of any other musician who worked on shruti perfection like Tai. It was a meditation of sorts. So, when you listen to her sing ragas like Kaushi Kanada which is the coming together of Darbari and Malkauns, she could effortlessly capture the two different komal gandhars and two different komal nishads belonging to the two component ragas. The gandhar in Darbari ascends from rishabh and the gandhar in Malkauns descends from madhyam, and only a genius like her could achieve that shruti difference so effortlessly. The way she handled the ati komal rishabh and gandhar of Miya Ki todi… wah!,” said a mesmerized Dr. Dravid, who believes that her oneness with shruti remains unparalleled.

Exploring beauty was inherent to Kishori tai’s nature. Her thinking was always out of the box, and this she did at the cost of occasionally making her mother-guru Mogubai Kurdikar angry, who believed in grammar correctness. Tai’s music had so many dimensions but the manner in which she integrated them to construct a wonderful piece of architecture was distinct to her. She articulated the pancham in her upward movement (aaroh) of raga Bageshree and was criticized for it. Tai argued for it with sound logic. “There is a ma pa da ma ga ri sa phrase that is used in the downward movement (avaroh) of Bageshree. Isn’t ma pa da an expression that occurs in the aaroh? Then why is it wrong to use it?” she would ask. Similarly, the gandhar to madhyam and dhaivat to nishad meend in aaroh (ascent)is not done in Shuddh Kalyan, but Tai sang it that way and her rendition was “Ekameva!” exclaimed Dr. Dravid.

Kishori tai created several ragas and compositions as well. “It is not like she sat down with pen and paper one morning deciding to create a raga. To me, it always appeared like it was an ongoing process, and one day it took form and shape.

Every bone in her was creative and artistic,” explains Dr. Dravid speaking of her creations like Nandshree, Lalith Bhibhas and Savan Gandhar. Playing her recordings in these ragas and analysing them in detail, Dr. Dravid opened up distinct and multiple meanings. Similarly, he sang her bandishes in Sawani Kalyan, Kambhavati, Durga and Madhamad Sarang, tracing their musical contours. Repeatedly and emphatically, Dr. Dravid brought to focus Tai’s aesthetic sensibility that was so unique and fascinating.

It was not that Tai was averse to other forms of music. She was a huge admirer of Ustads Barkhat Ali Khan and Bade Ghulam Khan, and interpreted the thumris in her own method and poignantly. Ghazals were part of her repertoire as well although she did not sing them in public.

The talk consummately switched from music to spoken word: in a way, froze time. When the talk ended, none in the audience knew three and a half hours had elapsed. In fact, the audience was bestowed with a moment in the eternity of Kishori tai’s music.