Dancing Dhrupad

Its been fifteen years of failed struggle - this attempt to know and understand and produce a note - a correct Sa, in correct swara. Or to produce a sargam, a melody, a composition - in tune...I am not even fathoming an approach to the tala or beats - yet.

And then, recently it hit me - by watching, listening to Dhrupad; it needs to be done with all the senses - Dhrupad has to be danced to be sung. One sings Dhrupad with its taste inside one's mouth; with a heady aroma of a basant or a cool night breeze with frangipani notes; a visual feast of imageries dancing behind closed eyes, and the body swaying in melody - moving already to notes still at threshold of creation. Is one ready to do this? Then, one is ready to Dhrupad.

Blue Megh

The clouds oppressed, lightening split the skies, thunder rolled, the damp earthy fragrance arose even as rain dropped in big globs on my upturned face.. blue surrounded everywhere, all blue, indescribable blue of ink, prussian, royal, navy merging into raven blacks...the regal Megh blue of Indian miniatures, of peacock dance, of crashing waves - as the alaap unfolding with excruciating expectancy of long drawn awaitings, no rhythms yet, no beat of a steady pour....and then, all longing removed, rain drum down to a pakhawaj beat, soon to a dizzying, torrential unbearable speed, the voice and the drum merge with colors, each challenging and challenged....I sat in an auditorium, exposed and drenched in rain cascading over me, streaming all around, elated, drunk on this evening's Dhrupad in Raag Megh.

Moods of Ragas

I have often been sold on the idea of man as a natural animal-to live in stark simplicity, in balance with and provided by nature, where music is the rustle of breeze, gurgling of streams, paintings are grandly enormous and real landscapes. And then, all it takes is a single evening of a really good classical concert and I am transported-- to an intense awareness of the richness of human genius in artistic endevours through ages; where the sensual pleasure in sound is capable of levitating one to a higher plane of existence, and joy is this journey with the artist riding high on waves and crashing into troughs of spells created by the sound spectrum-the moods of ragas.

This evening's concert started with a recital on Rudra veena - supposedly the oldest Indian string instrument, the sacred instrument of Saraswati-the goddess of arts and learning. The style of recital was in Dhrupad -again the oldest surviving musical form within the Indian classical system, predating a north-south divide into Hindustani and Carnatic music respectively. The Raga of choice was Marwa, an early evening Raga-serious, sombre, introspective, reflective, meditative, with a touch of sorrow on realisation- all is Maya-illusion. This followed a tragic Sohini- a raga of separation, loss before ending with Miya Malhar - a monsoon raga of Miya Tansen -the court musician during Akbar's reign - who added his signature of sweetness and longing to the majestic Megh Malhar of rolling thunder, crackling lightening and monsoon downpours. The tabla accompanyment was primal, echoing the beats of a dancing Shiva - mad, innocent, destructive - destroying carefully structured worlds,notions, fortress.

The next artist was a vocalist of enormous proficiency, brilliance. Her voice was molten, golden, honey, pouring in, gliding into innermost recesses, leading into a journey of her world, her creativity. She set about changing the course of our evening/night with a very slow, langorous Bhimpalas- a raga for the afternoon-plaintively calling out on 'viraha' or parting - till her longing became our exquisite pain. And, just when one could take no more, she moved to a faster, lighter composition on being 'coloured by melodies of love'. Her next composition was in raga Behag-asking the lover to 'love slowly, slowly' and finally a piece which requested the lover to 'fix her hair-'cos her hands were henna covered'- no coyness in Behag, no coyness in the singer- just a playful assurance, energy, verve -was it the singer, or her music-were both the same?