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Chaurasia’s lilting tunes
I joined Pandit Hari Prasad Chaurasia and his fellow artistes for a vegetarian dinner after he gave a rousing performance at Cornell University’s Statler Hall. A few dozen autographs later, Pandit Chaurasia was ready to eat and talk about Pakistan, his experiences with the greatest musicians from across the world and his memorable film compositions over the past two decades.
As he began to dip his fingers in the vegetable rice and channa salan, I decided to change the order of the questions and jump right to what I was most curious about. I told the Pandit that I remember vividly growing up during the Eighties, music connoisseurs in Karachi tuning in to All-India Radio or the BBC to catch the recitals of some of the greatest classical musicians and flautists. Prominent among them were always Panna Lal Ghosh and Hari Prasad Chaurasia. Considering he has a fan following there, has he ever visited Pakistan?
“Of course. I was in Pakistan as recently as six or seven years ago. I went to Islamabad and Lahore. I was unable to visit Karachi. Big-hearted people the Pakistanis are. Such dil walley. What hospitality and grace. And the food! The food is beyond description. Pakistanis have such a lavish menu,” said Chaurasia.
Pandit Chaurasia is the foremost musical exponent of the bansuri, having played to packed audiences around the world. In addition to his solo performances, he has shared the stage with the likes of Ravi Shankar and George Harrison, and has received training from the greatest teachers of North Indian classical music. Some of the giants under whose tutelage he has studied included Pandit Bholanath of Varnasi and reclusive Shrimati Anapurna Devi, daughter of the legendary Baba Alauddin Khan and first wife of Ravi Shankar. For a man to be under such musical influences is quite a feat, considering he was expected to uphold the family tradition and become a wrestler.
“I come from a family of wrestlers,” smiles the Pandit. “I was destined to become one, but really my heart was not in wrestling. So I decided to pick up the flute.” Born in 1938 in Allahbad, Pandit Chaurasia has been bestowed with several awards, including the Sangeet Natak Academy in 1984, the Padma Bhushan in 1992, and the Padma Vibhushan in 2000, given by the president of India. With so many accolades to honour his achievements in classical music, not many realize that Pandit Hari Prasad Chaurasia is an accomplished music director for films as well. In fact, any viewer of Hindi films has hummed his melodies at one point or the other. Popularly known as one half of the Shiv-Hari music team, Chaurasia has composed such evergreen gems with Santoor Maestro Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma — a legend in his own right — for classic films such as Silsila, Chandni, Lamhe and Darr, among others.
“Not many people know I have been composing film scores for a long, long time. In fact, I composed the score for the film 27 Down in which Raakhee featured as the female lead. That was directed by Avtaar Kaul in 1974. I connected very early on with Yashji (Chopra). We used to meet on the sets of his elder brother, (director B.R. Chopra’s) sets.”
Pandit Chaurasia says Yash Chopra and he had talked about a collaboration for many years. Finally, Chopra approached the Pandit to compose the score for his 1979 film, Kala Patthar. It was a high profile film under the Yash Chopra banner, featuring the creme de la creme of Bollywood, including superstars Amitabh Bachchan, Shashi Kapoor and Shatrughan Sinha. But the Pandit declined because the film did not have the ethos he was looking for. That ethos came a few years later with Yash Chopra’s next ambitious venture, Silsila, which starred Amitabh Bachchan, Jaya Bachchan, Rekha, Shashi Kapoor and Sanjeev Kumar.
“I was particularly delighted when Yashji approached me for Silsila,” says Pandit Chaurasia. “Amitabh Bachchan’s father, poet Shri Harivanshrai Bachchan, wrote the lyrics to his first and only film song, Rang barsaye bheegay chunar wali. This was sung by Amitabh, and we were told to use only folk instruments for this number. As you can see with greats such as the late Harivansh Bachchan lending us his words and Amitabh Bachchan rendering it, we could not have asked for more.”
Silsila was the breakthrough film, musically, for the Shiv-Hari team, boasting a number of hits beyond Rang barsay. The other hit that comes to mind is the Kishore Kumar-Lata Mangeshkar tune, Dekha aik khwab toh yeh silisilay huay.
“Kishore Kumar was such a talented actor, director and singer. He even composed beautiful scores for a few films. When I approached him he looked at me, and knowing my background in classical music said ‘Arrey main shastri sangeet thori gaa paaon ga. Tum log koi taan waan day do gay, tho main kya karoon ga?,” laughed Chaurasia. Only after the Pandit explained that he was equally comfortable with light music and such would be the tone of the film did Kishore accept the offer.
What about his experiences with contemporary classical music colleagues, such as Ravi Shankar.
“Actually, I have known Panditji (Ravi Shankar) for a long time, since the time when he first started composing for films. We collaborated on a number of films together where he was the music director. Two such films that come to mind include Anuradha (1960, directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee) and Godaan (1963, directed by Trilok Jetly). Of course we went on and performed together on stage as well. In 1973, we performed to an audience of 25,000 — myself, Ravi Shankar, George Harrison and several others.”
Over the past few years, Hari Prasad Chaurasia has not composed for films. In fact, the last film that comes to mind is the Nineties super-hit Darr, starring Shahrukh Khan and Juhi Chawla. Any reasons for not making music for films lately?
“I like to compose for films that are romantic, that have a certain depth to them. Make a Mughal-i-Azam, make a Baiju Bawra, or at least something that aspires to it and of course I will compose. The air is a little polluted right now, with cheap music and cheaper lyrics. Let that pass. Plus, I am really busy with my tours and schools right now.”
An evening with the maestro
At about 6:30 pm a few weeks ago in Cornell’s Statler Hall, Pandit Chaurasia walked on stage quietly, with measured steps, and seated himself between the two microphones. Pandit Bhavani Shanker, the pakhawaj maestro, and Shamala Rajendra, who would unify all the musicians with the gentle strum of her tanpura strings throughout the night, followed him. Pandit Chaurasia closed his eyes before breathing the first notes of Raga Hemavathi in his two-and-a-half-foot long bansuri.
A melodic devotional piece, the raga began as a long alaap. After mesmerizing the audience with his soulful rendition, Pandit Chaurasia was joined by Bhavani Shanker’s beats on the pakhawaj, picking up the pace of Chuarasia’s delivery. As the tempo picked up, Pandit Chaurasia’s body rose and fell with each high and low note of his bansuri. After a superb 45-minute long Raga Hemavathi, the audience took a short break for samosay and lassi. The eclectic group of attendees included a mix of international students, a large number of them Americans and South Asians, young and old, and several families. There was no distinct profile in this multicultural audience.
For the second half of the recital, Pandit Chaurasia introduced two of his young proteges on stage: 18-year-old Rimpa Shiva on the tabla, and 26-year-old year old Debopriya Chatterjee on the flute. Both the young ladies were breaking tradition; specially in the case of Chatterjee, because historically the flute has been a man’s instrument.
The five musicians began with the beautiful Raga Yaman, referred to in South India as Raga Kalyani. It was set to rupak taal (seven beats) initially, and then to teen taal (16 beats).
Both ladies dazzled the audience with their performance. Chatterjee played the flute with the finesse of a seasoned musician, holding the audience in a rapturous spell all along. Shiva amazed the audience with her speed and energy on the tabla. On at least two occasions during their performance, the crowd could not hold back and cheered the two young musicians for their delivery. On at least one occasion, even Pandit Chaurasia could not keep up with the speed of Shiva’s fingers on the tabla.
The performance, though classical music-heavy, was also interrupted by spurts of comedic touches. This was especially evident between the jugal bandi sessions that Pandit Chaurasia had with the two percussionists. They would challenge each other musically, and it almost felt like a competitive musical sport at one time, so gripping was this drama.
All in all, this was a fabulous concert. Pandit Chaurasia’s concert was organized as part of the Notes of Hope 2004 series by the charity organization ASHA.—IS
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