Life lessons from a musician

Sulebhavi is a remote hamlet, on the Miraj-Londa railway line, close to Belgaum, in North Karnataka. I remember a day in 1979, when my family was travelling from Pune to Bangalore by train. In those days, it was not easy. One had to take the Maharashtra Express from Pune, in the morning and arrive in Miraj after 7 hours. Then one had to transship from the Broad gauge line, to the Mahalakshmi Express, which used to run on the Metre gauge, and travel for close to another 20 hours, before reaching Bangalore. My father, the eternal railway man, informed us that this route was part of the erstwhile MSM Railways during the British rule.

So there we were, passing through the not-so-fertile North Karnataka villages. Suddenly, my mother raised her voice in excitement, looking at the name board of the passing railway station: “ Look, Sulebhavi!” My brother and I were bewildered about her rather unusual excitement. As if sensing our curiosity, she went on to add: “ do you know that this is the very same village that I was born in?”. This got us more confused than ever. My brother, fours older than me, was quick to quip: “ Amma, how is that possible? We are from Andhakudi, which is a good 1500 km away from here, in Tanjore district of Tamil Nadu… then how is this possible?”

My mother set about clearing the air. Apparently, my great-grandfather, my grand-mother’s father, happened to be station master of Sulebhavi, and my grand-mother travelled for almost three days from Andhakudi to Sulebhavi in a combination of bullock carts and trains, to be with her mother for the delivery of my mother… phew!! Took a while for us boys to figure out.

Cut to 1989. I was in my first job, as a field Engineer, roaming around the remotest corners of the country. My interest in Hindustani Classical music was, by then, increasing with every passing day, and I started listening to the recorded versions of the doyens, on audio cassettes (remember those vinyl tapes that bore music on demand?) and on radio, much to the chagrin of my recalcitrant father.

During one of my official trips, I happened to visit Dewas, in Madhya Pradesh. I was going there for the first time. The town’s culture, food and people were fascinating. I was travelling in an auto rickshaw, and as we passed certain road, the auto driver said “ Sir, you see that house over there? This is where Pt. Kumar Gandharva lives!” I was stunned, for a moment. One of my most favourite musicians, hailing from this non-descript town? I was struck by awe. A strange feeling permeated me. For a moment, I felt as if the Panditji was singing exclusively for me. I was rudely woken up by “Sir, we have arrived at your hotel” by the auto rickshaw driver. I cursed myself for not possessing a camera ( remember, in those days, a camera was a luxury for a trainee, and smart phones were unheard of, and so was the internet). Curiosity got the better of me. I was craving to know more about Pandit Kumar Gandharva (“KG” from hereon).

As soon as I returned to Pune, where I was living at that time, I reached out to my boss V M Desai, an ardent listener of Hindustani Classical music, and pestered him to share more details of KG. He grinned, and said “ Arre, you are the first Madrasi that I know of, who is interested in Hindustani Music. How come?” I simply smiled at him : “ Arre Desai Sahib, help me please!” After a long, probing stare at me, he handed me a book, in English, about the doyens of Classical music. I ran home, and jumped headlong into KG.

KG’s life was a revelation. He had not only impressed me by his unique brand of music, but also by his entire life. Let me capture the essence of it here.

KG hailed from North Karnataka, got interested in Classical Music from a very young age. He turned out to be such a bright student and performer, that he started teaching other students of his guru at the ripe old age of 20! Remember, it takes years of riyaz ( practice) to even get to a professional level of singing in Classical music. KG had aced it all in no time. Soon enough, his fame spread all over, and he became one of the most sought after performers. KG was especially popular, since he refused to adhere to any one Gharana (school of musical ideology). In his own words “ music is too big to be confined to any one gharana”. His mellifluous voice, coupled with sheer genius work with the swaras, took him to the pinnacle of popularity.

But alas, fate would have it otherwise. He got married to a fellow music student, and moved to Dewas. But soon, he was diagnosed with Tuberculosis, then a deadly disease. No cure was available. For 6 long years, he was bed ridden, and could not even speak a word, forget singing. In his wife’s words, he was in contemplative musical meditation, thinking about music, 24*7, and various postulates that hold water to this day. Luckily, medicines started being made available for treatment of TB by then, and after almost 7 years in confinement, he was finally cured of the disease – but not before one of his lungs had completely collapsed. Practically everyone thought that that was the end of his musical career.

But here comes the real twist. Any other singer, in his position, would have given up singing, for, even breathing normally with only one lung would have been difficult, let alone singing. But, KG was not the man to give up. With excruciating early morning riyaz, aided by the research work he had done during confinement, he had developed a very unique style of singing, which, to this day, stands apart from the rest of the crowd. His renditions started bearing the trade marks of signing with one lung – shorter musical phrases, pauses as often as possible without giving up the flavor of the rendition and a very imaginative way of swar-prasthuthi (offering of notes) that actually turned the disadvantage of signing with one lung, to a very unique and enjoyable new style of rendition. His fame never really diminished. KG continued his musical odyssey, with just one lung, right up to his death at the age of 67.

KG had taught me two things in life – One, whatever you do, do it with a passion. Two, never give up. Today, as I convalesce from a serious ailment, I realize that the second learning had come in good stead for me, during this testing period.

Pandit Kumar Gandharva was a legend. And a role model for many people struggling in life. Many musicians were subsequently inspired by his life story, and took strength from his exploits. He had shown the world that it is possible to turn what one would normally consider an adversity, or even a potential show-stopper, to one’s advantage, and still excel in the new paradigm, provided one displays the right attitude.

Ah! By now, by now, you must be scratching your head on the connection between my mother’s birth in an obscure North Karnataka village, and Pandit Kumar Gandharva. Well, he happens to have been born 15 years ahead of her… in Sulebhavi!

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