Unheard Melodies

THE idea of writing this tribute came to me some days back. On my way to the Income Tax office, as I watched the traffic crawling around me, I thought of our family life over the past 40 years: the ups, the downs, the sacrifices, the achievements. I realised that on November 9, you would be turning 75. Being a chartered accountant by profession, I was tempted to do an audit on your life. On your music, your family ties, your friends and your own personality. Why not a more personal approach? Perhaps, I wanted to do something different. A written tribute, I am sure, can be more expressive than spoken words. I was also influenced in part by Abraham Lincoln's letter written to his son's tutor, but with a difference. That letter was about the future; my tribute, by virtue of its ver y nature, is about the past.

Baba, do you remember that we did not communicate with each other till I had passed my SSC examination? The same was the case with my brothers—Suhas, Satish and Anil. Aai (mother) was always the conduit for approaching you. We held you in such awe that we avoided expressing certain views which we felt would hurt you. Being the youngest of the lot, I had at times transgressed this attitude. This may be attributed to the impetuosity of youth!

I regard the early days at 'Bhuta Nivas' in Matunga as the most fruitful and eventful period of your life. The family lived in a 270 sq ft house in a typical Mumbai chawl. You were up at 4.30 am for riyaaz, and Aai got up immediately afterwards to make tea and do the other chores. You were particular that your riyaaz should not disturb the neighbours. But our South Indian neighbours used to sit near the stairs outside our home and listen to your music. They told mother that it was a 'divine' experience which they would not like to miss.

I admired your dedication and concentration. Nothing disturbed your riyaaz. Some years back, when Satish complained that he could not concentrate on his riyaaz because of the various noises from outside, you had a one-line solution to this problem. "Satish, there are several excuses to avoid riyaaz but only one to go ahead. Just pick up your instrument (santoor) and get going." Your words taught me something very important in life: "If you really wanted to do something, just do it".

After the riyaaz, you left for your office, ITC Limited, where you worked for 34 years. The job kept you away from your family and your music, but you thought nothing of making the sacrifice for the sake of your wife and children. During the early 1960s, when ITC planned a film music-based programme for the launch of the Plaza King cigarette, you suggested a programme of classical music or a festival of plays instead. They went ahead with the film music programme, but it was not much of a success. Agreeing with your suggestion, the ITC then organised a Marathi drama festival throughout the state to publicise the Berkeley brand cigarette. It was a big hit. You were among those who persuaded the corporate sector to sponsor classical music and other arts. You were the pioneer in obtaining corporate backing for the traditional arts. Looking back on these events, I was saddened by the fact that the ITC seldom invited you to perform at its regular music programmes. But you were not bothered and, in fact, more than happy that the company you served for so long was doing a lot for the promotion of the classical arts.

To me, the most important phase in your career as a musician was from 1959 to 1967, under your guru, the late Pandit Jagannathbua Purohit, who was popularly known as Gunidas. I was not born when you trained under another famous guru, the late Rajarambua Paradkar. But you and mother had told me enough about these gurus. If Rajarambua helped you acquire a perfect understanding of traditional music through his rigorous taaleem, Jagannathbua honed your skills as a performer and helped you discover yourself as a rachnakar (composer). These two were the pillars of your musical career.

Yet, quite inexplicably, your career often floundered. To my mind, it was primarily because of your inability and reluctance to market yourself in this highly commercialised world. For several years, you remained in the shadow of your contemporaries and because of family commitments turned down many offers to perform. Though you decided to quit ITC and devote yourself fully to music in 1975 (the year I graduated), this became possible only in 1978. Thank God, you had the backing of my elder brother, Satish, who was learning the intricacies of the santoor from the legendary Pandit Shivkumar Sharma. He helped you organise the four-day annual music conference 'Gunidas Sangeet Sammelan'. Sponsored first by ITC and then Citibank, this event, since 1977, has become a major musical event in the cities of India.

Satish pushed hard and saw to it that you performed all over the country. Gradually, the dark horse became the champion, occupying the pride of place in the world of music. Awards and honours inevitably followed, the Sangeet Natak Akademi award, Padma Bhushan, the Maharashtra Gaurav Puraskar, being the most notable among them. During the last 20 years, you have held your place as a performer of substance, creator of several compositions and, of course, a revered guru. Always ready to share your talent, you helped younger singers like Jitendra Abhisheki, Prabhakar Karekar, Ganapati Bhat, Sripad Paradkar, Sanjeev Chimmalgi, Shripati Hegde and others who gradually established themselves in the music world. Your own son, Suhas, who was trained by you, has now become a successful individual performer. More than your own performances, you derive pleasure and satisfaction from those of your pupils. This is the hallmark of an ideal guru.

WHILE throwing light on your awesome achievements, I cannot leave out the crucial role played by Aai. It was she who shouldered the major responsibilities of running the home and looking after the children. While you remained our ideal to emulate in our chosen professions, Aai made us what we are today. Despite being the wife of a celebrity, her feet have always been firmly planted on the ground. We are proud of her simplicity, humility and kindness to others and can only hope that we had imbibed these qualities from her.

How do I assess your life and career? Let me take up the plus points. Immense self-confidence, tenacity, strong convictions, total commitment, absence of greed or jealousy, great respect towards the guru and tremendous discipline coupled with faith in God. On the minus side, you were not able to judge people properly and sometimes got carried away. You were unduly modest, too simple to handle the commercial world, excessively sentimental and often guilty of lack of communication. But then, as you yourself told us, no man can ever be perfect!

In a world where success was commonly measured in terms of name, fame, glory and money, your success had to be evaluated in terms of character, deeds, commitment, loyalty, dedication and professional excellence. As an auditor, I can confidently conclude that the value of your intangible assets is much more than the tangible assets. My assessment of you, done on the basis of available information gathered from several sources (including personal awareness), is that you are a hugely successful man. How else does one describe a musician and a gentleman who has accomplished almost everything that he set out to do within a wonderfully eventful lifetime?

Baba, here is wishing you a very happy 75th birthday. All of us—family, friends and admirers—pray that you live to be a hundred. That will give me an opportunity to prepare yet another balance-sheet.