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A befitting tribute to a genius
Tabla virtuoso Zakir Husain is undoubtedly a living legend. A good looker (voted the most handsome Indian by a Mumbai magazine a few years ago), and a drummer par excellence whose appeal cuts across all geographical and political boundaries, he is a highly articulate person. Sumantra Ghosal’s 100-minute documentary shows all these qualities of the versatile musician but misses out on one, his contribution to movies, both as the composer of background music and film songs. But this is perhaps the only lapse in an otherwise very well made and brilliantly scripted and edited short film — The Speaking Hand.
The management of KaraFilm Festival 2003 started their 10-day programme with the screening of this absorbing documentary in Karachi on December 13. Only once did one lose one’s concentration, which was when, after almost half-way through the film, an intermission interrupted the proceedings.
Zakir Husain explains the nuances of our music, its rhythmic patterns and the different ‘gharanas’ of the tabla in such a simple manner that even those uninitiated in classical music are able to understand him
A commentary by the kurta-pyjama clad Zakir Husain tells the viewers about his own self, about his illustrious father, his family and the trends in music at home and abroad. His talk is interspersed with a lot of interesting scenes and glimpses of his concerts. You see him as a young boy in Mahim, a Muslim dominated area of Mumbai. Later, he tells you about the annual urs in Mahim which is a scene of utmost devotion, immense festivity and mouth-watering food. You also get to see glimpses of the urs in black-and-white, where, as a child, Zakir tries his hand at the two-headed traditional drum that is played by Indian Muslims of negroid origin. Later, you watch some footage of a recent version of the urs, capturing the colours of festoons, dresses and food.
One is also shown glimpses of stalwarts and younger exponents of classical music. There are clippings of the late Ustad Allaudin Khan, the guru of Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and Pandit Ravi Shankar. Also, there is a glimpse of one of the finest tabla players of the last century — the late Ahmad Jan Thirakwa. But the most visually appealing is the one where a smiling Zakir Husain provides rhythmic support to Birju Maharaj, the greatest living exponent of kathak, and the mentor of Naheed Siddiqi. You enjoy some interesting jugalbandis. A jugalbandi is a friendly competition usually between two instrumentalists, sometimes between a vocalist and an instrumentalist. ‘What you can do, I can do better,’ is its raison d’etre. You see Zakir trying to match his skill with his father; with a South Indian gautam (an earthen water pitcher) player, and a famous western drummer. And when the vocalist Pandit Jasraj is competing with flautist Hariprasad Chaurasia, the percussionist occupying the pride of place is none other than Zakir. He sits between the two competing artists. It goes to the credit of tabla players like Zakir and his father that a tabla nawaz’s position has been elevated. In the past he used to sit behind the main performer. This is a point raised by the world renowned sitarist Pandit Ravi Shankar, who formed a formidable partnership with Zakir’s father. He appears at least three times in the documentary and is generous in praising Zakir. It was Ravi Shankar who advised the young tabla player, settled in California, to visit his home country at least once a year to keep in touch with his roots.
Zakir explains the nuances of our music, its rhythmic patterns and the different gharanas of the tabla in such a simple manner that even those uninitiated into classical music are able to understand him. He plays the same piece in four different ways — as the tabla players belonging to the Delhi, Lucknow, Benaras and Punjab gharanas would play. His father belongs to the Punjab gharana, but Zakir doesn’t restrict himself to any one school of tabla playing, he imbibes the best of every gharana.
All said, Zakir Husain has achieved so much so early in his life as a soloist, as an accompanying artist and as a composer, that he is envied by not just his contemporaries but his seniors as well.
Full marks to the director and his team, as they have been able to make a documentary, which is a befitting tribute to the enormous genius of Ustad Zakir Husain.
One wishes that a copy of this film could be acquired for students of audio-visual arts, film-makers, film buffs with discerning taste and lovers of classical music in Pakistan.
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