MUSIC BREAKS THE VIRUS BARRIER

By RAJEEV GUPTA

Spring is the time of musical notes filling the air with new sounds. Performers of Indian classical music touring North America look forward to the concert season that opens up in spring and concludes in fall, after which they return to the winter concert season in India.

In Toronto, after a moderate winter that Raag-Mala utilized for planning, the season was to be kick-started by Kaushiki Chakraborty; we were all very excited to bring this noted vocalist to Torontonians.

However, spring was scarred by the outbreak of coronavirus and concert goers, organizers and artistes have been left reeling because all around the world, public gatherings have been prohibited to contain the virus spread. Artistes were despondent at the situation keeping them away from the listeners and music lovers were left bereft. Sarod maestro Ustad Amjad Ali Khan said that COVID-19 is “ like a big earthquake that has shaken the entire world”.

This year marked the birth centenary of Pandit Ravi Shankar and so many artistes had been making elaborate preparations for concerts to honour the sitar maestro. Lamented Anushka Shankar, Panditji’s daughter and student, “As part of the preparation for the centenary, I’ve been delving into my father’s catalogue to make new arrangements of some of his incredible compositions”. Not to be deterred however, several artistes including Vishwa Mohan Bhatt, Shubhendra Rao, Canada’s own Aditya Verma and others performed Sandhya Raga with Anoushka in a lovely online tribute.

Human resilience being what it is, artistes and organizations have taken to social media to host live concerts from their homes. On Facebook for example, HCL concert series features performances by over 25 established and upcoming artistes including Ustad Shujaat Khan, Purbayan Chatterjee and Rakesh Chaurasia, and young artistes such as Ghulam Hasan Khan and Archita Bhattacharya.

Another notable undertaking is by Hindustani Classical Music and Everything (HCMAE). Every day, their Facebook page streams two to three hour-long performances by predominantly young and very talented musicians. Musicians sing raag based khayal and a semiclassical music item such as thumri, dhun, bhajan or ghazal. The page has a large audience making this an excellent platform for artistes to connect with an audience from around the world. 

A digital platform, however, serves as a double-edged sword. Unlike in real life concerts where listeners give daad (appreciative vocalizations) in a courteous manner, in an online performance, along with “likes”, “hearts”, and appreciative comments, there is also scope for (anonymous but rare) unpleasant instant feedback.

Online platforms have opened up opportunities for some new artistes, some of whom are very young and would otherwise find it hard to find so many listeners who provide encouragement and feedback. Case in point are the brother-sister duo Anirban and Maitrayee Roy from Kolkata who performed on the Indian Classical Music Fan Club Facebook page.

The maturity of these 10 and 13 year-olds left viewers spellbound. Anirban regaled the audience with raag Jog on flute and Maitrayee pleased the listeners with raag Kaushik Dhwani. Performing from their home without the luxury of the sound systems of auditoriums and studios, they faced technical challenges that did not slow them down, nor stop the audience showering blessings and kudos on the kids.

Closer home, when Raag-Mala Toronto had to postpone our concert season to the fall, we decided to broadcast concerts online in partnership with Aga Khan Museum, starting with a Facebook Watch party in April of the 2019 sitar recital by Pandit Buddhaditya Mukherjee. In May, we broadcast a recital by Ustad Wassim Ahmed Khan and plan on broadcasting one by Pandit Satish Vyas in June.

I cannot possibly conclude this story without mentioning my own beloved guruji, Warren Senders. Guruji gave a live recital on HCMAE and performed raag Bihagda, a composition created by his own guru Pandit SG Devasthali, before concluding with a tarana in raag Bhairavi. I am not unfamiliar with his virtual presence because, for over a year, I have been seeing him in my weekly classes. Seeing him in his performing avatar was such a delightful experience!

At this time, musicians and listeners are equally uncertain about where we are headed. I do not know when I will get the auspicious opportunity of touching another music legend’s feet and seek blessings for improving my own sadhana. But what music artistes have accomplished by embracing the digital media to give us virtual access to them will be remembered and probably pave a new way of consuming live music when there would be no alternate to attending the actual concert.

ME, MYSELF AND MUSIC

By MICHAEL O’’HARA

Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness. – Maya Angelou

It is a strange time to be living in. One recent morning, I woke up early and took a walk along the Danforth, from Coxwell to Pape.

A street that would normally be bustling on a gorgeous spring day such as this was quiet and subdued. Businesses shuttered, other fellow walkers were masked and anonymous, and a pervading sense of caution mixed with solidarity filled the air. Although the streets were quiet, it wouldn’t have mattered to me – because while I was physically walking along the street, mentally and emotionally I was being carried away by the music that I was listening to in my headphones.

I’ve always enjoyed a one-on-one relationship with music – from the time I was a baby. I have a picture of me at about four months old, with a giant pair of headphones on my head and a blissed out look on my face!

There is something very intimate and sacred about listening to music in solitude. Don’t get me wrong – I absolutely adore and thrive on going to concerts and appreciating live music and the thrill of an electric performance. But when I choose to listen to music in the comfort and quiet of my own home, I really relish certain aspects of the experience. For instance – there’s no overzealous stranger sitting beside me, tapping their hard-soled shoe on the wooden floor of an auditorium, out of time with the rhythmic cycle of the piece. Gone are the distractions of intrusive sneezes, candy wrappers, dropped handbags and the cardinal sin of the jarring cell phone ring and screen light, parting the sea of the calm darkness of the hall like a frat boy on a jet ski. 

So being as much of a devotee of the SLE (solitary listening experience) as I am, I have been drowning myself in it during this time of social distancing and self-isolation. Luckily, we are living in a time where this is easier than it has ever been. 

In terms of Indian classical music, on any given day you can find at least ten quality online recitals on Facebook alone. Musicians who are transmitting their broadcasts digitally range from the very seasoned veterans like Pandit Tejendra Majumdar (sarod) to new and emerging artistes such as Shri Bhagirath Bhatt (sitar). I feel like Chhabi Biswas’ character in Satyajit Ray’s Jalsaghar – lounging around in my pajamas while the musicians play just for me. Well... just for me and the 300 other people that are watching with me from around the world. So even though I am fully engaged in my SLE, I can’t help but feel a grand sense of community and togetherness during these live viewings. The “wah wahs” and “Kya baat hais” are still there in the comment sections, making the artiste feel encouraged and supported. 

When I was first introduced to Indian classical music while attending a performance of Pandit Ravi Shankar, there was no YouTube or Facebook to explore this vast genre. While I was  absolutely entranced by the sound of the surbahar (bass sitar) I had no idea what one really looked like until years later when I finally was able to see one in action on YouTube. Now, it’s like being a kid in a candy store with both archival gems and live in-the-moment-as-it-happens performances available to all. 

Listen, we all miss the experience of gathering together in a sense of friendship and a common love for music – even me, the curmudgeony, SLE enthusiast. Nothing beats the feeling of coming out on the other side of a brilliant performance of a raag collectively as an audience and exhaling and exulting at the end of the recital with your friends and saying to each other, “What just happened?”.

But I encourage you to take this time to go inward. Explore your personal relationship with music. Let it soak into your cells, ignite your inner passion. Close your eyes, and let it wash over you and only you. 

Strange times, indeed. Strange, difficult...but wonderful all the same.

SINGING FAMILY ANTAKSHARI ON WHATSAPP

 By MOHAMED KHAKI

In the COVID-19 world, the number of personal visits between members of my family has dropped, both within Toronto (where my sisters Jenny, Fatima and I live) and between cities such as Atlanta, Dallas and London where others live.

This was dismaying because our family has always been a close one, but particularly so now because my siblings and I are ageing, and find ourselves in the “at risk” category for the virus.

Sundays, we do Zoom calls to stay in touch; but what has been interesting and more fun has been a cross-border game of  “antakadi” (also known as antakshari) that recently started up on our WhatsApp chat group. It started after I posted a short clip of  Main shayyar to nahi – the song from Bobby (1973) that launched the career of the much-loved actor Rishi Kapoor.

Ron, the first of the first-generation Americans in our clan, shared a hidden treasure of that song that had been recorded with my help forty years ago in Minneapolis. He was five years old then, and we wanted to send a song to his grandparents, who were still in Tanzania.

And so antakadi took off on WhatsApp! For those of you who may not know, antakadi involves a second team singing a song starting with the last syllable of the song that the first team just sang. Given the difficulty in forming teams around the globe, we decided on a new rule – the last singer nominates the next person.  

“Nazir, sing Rashke kamar like Papa!” someone always calls out when the next song must start with “ra”. To which Nazir would gamely sing like our late father in a mock KL Saigal style. How we laughed! The game has always featured much teasing and joking along the way.

Yet, this time when Nazir sang like dad, I got teary-eyed instead of chuckling. The enjoyable nostalgia of the past is now tinged with melancholy. Recalling my long-deceased dad brought home the realization that COVID-19 has brought death closer to all of us. Worse, we can’t fly off to see each other as needed, even as the advancing years are putting me and my siblings in declining health.

However, poor health at age 80 has not deterred my oldest brother Nizar from robustly joining in. He rallies us whenever the energy starts to fade. A perennial favourite, his rendition of Mahelon me rahene waale hame tere dar se kya from Shabab (1954), with the help of his wife and adult children, was once again a big hit. Lately Nizar has been given extra oxygen, so his singing brought tears to my eyes, and I’m sure to those of my other sibs.

Sister-in-law Roshi, despite being the most senior bahu, has been teased the most in my family. Nizar’s wife was my sister Jenny’s best friend when they were in high school in Tanzania, and had danced to Mohe panghat pe Nandlal chhed gayore from Mughal-e-Azam (1960) then. Egging her to sing this song is de rigueur at our gatherings, and has brought us much guilty pleasure. Feigning offence – “Why am I the only one who gets teased?” – Roshi always sang it anyway. Ah family, we can be so cruel to the ones we love.

Even ginans, which are devotional songs, and non-filmi Gujarati songs have been part of the recent exchange. I had vague childhood memories of Mum humming the song Mari veni ma chaar chaar phool. It was so touching to hear Roshi sing all the verses of this song, and telling us that she had sung this to Mum shortly before her passing a dozen years ago.

Obviously, distance has robbed the enjoyment of a live game, but playing antakadi on WhatsApp has brought new poignancy to familial ties.

Suddenly it is not so easy to think that I can fly to London and see Firoz and Juby and their kids and grand-kids anytime soon.

Instead, I am waiting for my turn to sing Hoton me aisi baat from Jewel Thief (1967), at which time I will remind everyone of how Firoz used to regale us with a droll version of this song.

• Editor’s note: Mohamed Khaki has written this article like he was playing antakadi – note how each new paragraph begins with the last letter of the previous one!

• Rajeev Gupta, Michael O’Hara and Mohamed Khaki are all on the Raag-Mala Toronto team.