A decade ago she was mere adjunct, musical maatra. The diffident Mudgal bahu from small town Allahabad who also sang. At Delhi's cultural watering hole, the Gandharva Mahavidyalay, that boasted of formidable in-house talents like father-in-law Vinaychandra, vocalist brother-in-law Madhup, dancer sister-in-law Madhavi, that also prefix was hardly coincidental. Rather it was the central fact of Mudgal's life.
One she changed drastically eight years ago when she walked out of a marriage. And into a Diva Destiny she intuited rather than knew awaited her.
That Diva status certainly stands confirmed. Not just by audiences, standing ovations from whom are the norm rather than the exception at Mudgal's concerts Indiawide (the most recent of which, a virtually impromptu jugalbandi with visiting British jazz pianist Nikki Yeoh at Delhi's Habitat Centre last fortnight, elicited near-hysterical endorsement from rapturous rasiks) but also from critics, sponsors, recording companies. The lady with a distinct, searing, husky, high-octane voice musicologist Nandu Dhyaneshwar calls rare, compelling, reminiscent of Kumar Gandharva gayaki in the way it's projected; whom music critic Raghav Menon terms an intelligent, nuanced singer with a voice that holds you in its thrall with the very opening sa, to listen to whom is a journey of discovery and delight is a top-selling performer today.
Going rate for the big public concert: a rumoured Rs 50,000. Raj Barjatya, owner, Rajshree Film's newly-launched music division, industry grapevine has it, paid Mudgal a record price for each of the eight songs she recently recorded with them for a forthcoming pop music album. He paid her more than playback singer Kavita Krishnamoorthy who's paid between Rs 8,000-20,000 per song. In a tacit acknowledgement of Mudgal's soaring brand equity, Magnasound, the music company that paid Mudgal a ridiculously low Rs 35,000 royalty on her bestselling Ali More Angna album apart from retaining copyright in '97, ate humble pie this January. They had to cough up a rumoured Rs 2 lakh as one-off payment for each of the two classical and thumri/daadra cassettes they've recorded with her. It's unprecedented, admits company vice-president Sunil Menghrajani, but when you have an artiste who's already a star it's worth our while to do so. At Mudgal's determined insistence they also ceded her copyright. No mean achievement, that, in the traditionally exploitative Indian music market where creators feed off crumbs while corporations skim the cream. In the offing: the album of popular music she's recording this month with Virgin Records at Bombay.
In between all this Mudgal manages to keep a hectic concert schedule. Sample her January calendar: she sang with Yeoh on the 13th, will record at Bombay with Virgin till the 24th, sing for Delhi Tourism on the 26th, for a serial on classical music at Jaipur on the 27th, sing at Jaisalmer on the 29th. She packs much more into that schedule: consults with Music Today, composes music for serials, dance, films (Kamasutra, Song of the Wind), teaches, travels, researches and yes, tends her website.
The transition from humble housewife to czarina of the concert circuit was circuitous. The daughter of two Allahabad university English literature teachers, Skandgupt and Jaya, she learnt kathak for 10 years before giving it up for music. Unsurprising, recalls Jaya, for the girl who responded to a dance 'examiner's' routine query aap kis gharane ka naachti hain with a tart hum apne gharane ka naachti hain. Mudgal came to music through the bhajan-Binaca Geetmala-bathroom singing route, the wish to do something where I didn't have to depend on costumes, musicians, lightmen.
First guru: Ram Asrey Jha, local music department head. Jha remembers her determination: She'd travel eight miles alone to come, learn everyday. Raw voice but she had musical intelligence. Samajh ke saath aawaz bhi nikhar gayi. Riyaz was invariably, reluctantly done, laughs mother Jaya. She'd go into the riyaz room with our bitch Poil in her lap and insist Poil's nose twitching was an indicator she'd got her sur right!
Marriage to Mukul, elder son of the musical Mudgal family, at 23 marked her initiation into a more rigorous riyaz routine. Gandharva Vidyalay was nurturing. Excellent training ground. From obscure Allahabad suddenly there I was right in the vortex of the classical tradition. I learnt with Bhaiji, my father-in-law, with Jitendra Abhishekhi for two years, with Naina Devi for five years, recalls Mudgal. Probably the finest input the student of voice as she calls herself, received was from the legendary Kumar Gandharva. The way she enunciates, draws out the word is a delight. Vintage Gandharva, exults her frequent tabla accompanist Aneesh Pradhan. The young singer used that eclectic training under multiple masters to forge her unique and individual musical identity. Turned a deemed weakness (non-gharana gayaki) into her biggest strength. Gharanas can put limits on your imagination, innovation. Shubha remains unshackled. It's a strength, comments fellow-vocalist Shruti Sadolikar. Thus it is that in Mudgal's gayaki one can find the silky caress that was the hallmark of the late Naina Devi's thumri gayaki, the raagdari that was the staple of Abhisheki's music, the haunting spirituality and tremendous power that was Gandharva's defining quality. It's a combination that can reduce mature audiences to tears. To hear her sing Padmavat's Ekai sung dhai, Nandlal aur gulaal is to experience transcendence, says semiotics professor/musician, Madangopal. Purshottam Walwalaakar, harmonium player who accompanies Mudgal often, sums it up best: Aaawaz mein chaain hai, pukaar hai, ras paida karti hai.
Yet anchored as she's in tradition Mudgal's not mired in it. The woman who travels to Vrindavan, Allahabad, Indore, Dewas tirelessly researching Kabir, Tulsi, Vaishnav, Meera, Nirgun, Sufi texts is also one who connects seamlessly with the Western music tradition, quips jazz pianist Yeoh who confessed to being amazed by her easy felicity, improvisational skills. Bombay-based musician Ranjit Barot who worked with Mudgal on her Bala-Kanika produced Jai Jai Mataram video currently being beamed on television piles lavish praise. Her voice has passion, expanse, volume. Her mind's open. Refreshing in a hierarchy/category-ridden classical circuit.
But then this stormy, 40 almost, petrel of Hindustani music whose music moves frenzied youngsters to boogie in discos, adults to quiet goldenglow cathartic content in auditoriums has always defied categories. Lived her life, sung her music on her own terms. Compelled admiration for her unalloyed classicism even as she challenged and subverted classical categories with AAA brand pop. Successfully. She is probably the only Indian performer who employs a professional manager, Frenchman Achille Foyler; displays what Foyler calls a willingness to stick her neck out for performers' rights in pursuit of which she's fought and won court battles. Beneath the silky/steely businesswoman persona is a gentle soul capable of immense fiscal, emotional largesse. She sang gratis for the Uphaar Tragedy Victims Foundation in a charity concert that raised Rs 9 lakh. Another friend recalls how she fetched up at a prayer meeting for his mother to sing the deceased's favourite bhajans saying quietlyat least you'll be able to mourn in peace. Through the living, the loving, the singing, the woman who could well have been a stand-up comedienne (she's a drop-dead party mimic who can have friends rolling on the floor in mirth; the French accent imitation deserves an Indian Emmy) retains her puckish sense of humour. Raja, the pet spotted Dalmatian, sits in on her riyaz for the very reason Poil once did! Future ambition fervently expressed after seeing Dil to Paagal Hai: Ek film mein Shahrukh ki amma zaroor banana hai.
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