J.D: Jayant, you’re an artist-painter by vocation, but you've been brought up in a predominantly musical household since birth. As a child you must've heard all sorts of music around you, but most especially your father's singing as he did his riyaaz and also when he gave public and private recitals. Could you say something about the roots of your father’s passion for singing? Also, do you recall when you were first drawn to Indian vocal classical music?
Jayant Joshi:
My father had always been imbued with a rare passion and idealism when it came to singing. At age nine, when he first heard a recording of Abdul Karim Khan, he felt a burning desire to sing like that—and from that moment on he was convinced that singing would be his life’s raison d’être. He found true joy only in singing—there was never any desire for material gain from his natural talent. My parents moved to Pune sometime in 1951—it was a rather conservative place then. My earliest memories as a child were of my mother singing Raga Puriya at home; also Lata Mangeshkar’s songs on radio, along with lots of classical music on AIR (All India Radio).
J.D: Could you share some memories of his early days? Is there any particular composition that Panditji sang that you especially liked before you gained insight into the technical aspects of our classical music?
Jayant Joshi:
His first mehfil was in Pune at age 19 (around 1941), long before I was born. And he earned his first ‘bidaagi’ in Mangalore in 1952, the year I was born. He’d always be on the move, giving countless recitals, day and night, driving himself from one place to the next. When he came home he’d spend two or three days catching up on his sleep—there was a certain aura about him not only in public, but also at home. Our whole family was enveloped by the warm glow of that aura and we simply absorbed that warmth. As a child I was especially drawn to the Raga Todi he sang at the Sawai Gandharwa Festival held annually in Pune. I still recall how it brought tears to my eyes—literally made me cry. But after I became more conversant with the grammar of khayal, I particularly liked his rendition of Raga Vrindavani Sarang, and also Chaya & Chaya Malhar.
J.D: Do you remember when Panditji first took on disciples to accompany and learn from him? And did you ever feel any pressure to take up classical singing? Did you ever feel the urge to do so?
Jayant Joshi: Purushottam Lal Kapila, from Jullunder, was one of his earliest disciples, sometime in the early to mid-60s. He stayed at our home while learning from my father. Then there was Madhav Gudi. Subhash Patwardhan was another. I was certainly not under pressure to undergo any talim. I enjoyed listening of course, but I also learned how to sing from other gurus in the Kirana tradition as my father was much too busy to teach me—however, I never felt I should take up singing as a profession. I took great pleasure in drawing and painting, and so that became my pursuit.
J.D: I believe Panditji has praised and enjoyed Rashid Khan’s singing (Rashid Khan is a disciple of Ustad Nissar Hussein Khan of the Sahaswan gharana; Ghulam Mustafa Khan also hails from this gharana). Are there any other singers from the younger generation he likes and listens to?
Jayant Joshi:
Yes, he was impressed by Rashid Khan’s singing, though I should mention that Rashid Khan himself regards my father as an idol, as someone to emulate, to look up to—a model of what a singer should be. My father also likes Ulhas Kashalkar.
J.D: Before I go on to other probing questions, I’d like to mention that remarkable album produced in the early 1980s, “Ram Shyam Gun Gaan”—a remarkable collaboration between two accomplished popular singers: Panditji and Lata Mangeshkar. Though the lyrics by Narendra Sharma are obviously devotional in nature, the musical score—with a classical base—by Srinivas Khale has the dramatic quality of an opera. I found this music appealing from the moment I first heard it in 1985. I’m surprised that these bhajans have hardly been aired on radio, or sung in public programs by amateur or other professional singers. What did you think of this effort?
Jayant Joshi:
(He looks around and then shows me the original album cover, signed by those involved in making it). Well, many of the rehearsals took place here in our home. As a playback singer for decades, Lataji was of course used to learning and singing the compositions of others, but my father needed to adjust to this new setting. But I think the recordings came off well—each bhajan has interesting improvisations on its basic theme. As for these tracks seldom being aired, I’m just as surprised—but with programs like Zee Marathi’s SaReGaMaPa (Little Champs & then Maharashtra’s Voice), and other song-and-dance television spectacles or extravaganzas, our musical culture allows little room for serious efforts to get the hearing they deserve. The music aired on TV and radio tends toward a selective bias that panders to the gallery and the rather undeveloped musical sensibilities of the public that attends such staged shows. This dilution or dumbing-down is to be expected in this age of multimedia.
J.D: Just a little bit about Kesarbai Kerkar. Panditji has said that his singing combined the capacious, full-throated alto quality of Kesarbai Kerkar, and the thin, somewhat pinched, and high, but pitch-perfect voice of Abdul Karim Khan, his guru’s guru. Care to comment?
Jayant Joshi:
First of all, my father was a great admirer of Keasarbai’s singing. (Kesarbai was groomed by Alladiya Khan of the Atrauli-Jaipur gharana). And in turn she once sent him a congratulatory telegram after his recital on AIR’s National Program of Music in 1957 or thereabouts. About his voice: it does combine and express the qualities of the various styles, apart from the Kirana’s he was grounded in, that he listened to carefully and internalized—that was natural.
J.D: Panditji often sang natyageet (songs from the old Marathi musical dramas) in his mehfils. I personally liked his renditions of "Ugich Ka Kanta" & "Chandrika Hi Janu". On occasion he would also sing the compositions in Kannada by the saint-poet Purandara Das: I'm thinking especially of "Yenna Paliso Karuna Kara", my favorite, though I don’t know the meaning of the lyrics.
Jayant Joshi:
He was particularly fond of Balgandharva and his rendering of natyageet. He had a congenial relationship with Master Krishnarao and enjoyed his company, as he did Sureshbabu Mane’s and his sister, Hirabai Barodekar’s company. He would actually travel from Hubli to Mumbai to strum the tanpura behind Sureshbabu when the latter sang. In fact, he had a congenial and mutually respectful relationship with all his contemporaries. And there was always that aura around him that captivated singers and listeners, though he’d say very little.
J.D: Various listeners have noticed the andolans and ornaments, peculiar to the Carnatic singing tradition, that have shaped Panditji's phrasing when rendering a khayal in any given raga in the Hindustani system, eg. the self-composed raga, Kalashree (combining Kalavati & Rageshree)—and in particular the drut bandish in that raga, "Dhan dhan bhaga suhaag tero". Many listeners have found this style and approach appealing. I think this influence was inevitable when we consider that Panditji's musical and cultural sensibilities were initially formed in Karnataka. One could also say this about Kumar Gandharva or Mallikarjun Mansoor; both hailed from Karnataka, and were singers in the Hindustani classical tradition. Do you have any thoughts about this?
Jayant Joshi:
The spirit and temperament of the South—as it comes across in Carnatic music—may be apparent in his singing, but his khayal singing remains firmly rooted in the grammar of the Hindustani tradition. Furthermore, he assimilated various styles—including the Punjabi ang—during his travels throughout India in search of a guru. It was Vinayakrao Patwardhan who finally directed him towards Rambhau Kundgolkar (a.k.a. Sawai Gandharva) from the town, Kundgol in Karnataka, who finally became his guru. Those were the beginnings of his journey as a serious classical singer. He went up north, only to return to the south for his grooming. But we should note that his guru’s guru, Abdul Karim Khan, actually hailed from Kairana (from which Kirana is derived), near Kurukshetra, in Punjab, and settled down in Miraj to groom various singers.
J.D: Let's now turn to Ustad Amir Khan, who was in many ways Panditji's inspiration. I believe he has said to his listeners, "You listen to me, but I listen to Amir Khan". By most accounts there was mutual respect and admiration between the Ustad and Panditji. Amir Khan was impressed by Panditji's prowess as a mehfil singer, and once said that if anyone aspired to become a true mehfil singer, he should listen carefully to at least 25 of Panditji's recitals. You can confirm or deny the truth of all this. Some critics have also pointed out that Amir Khan's gayaki has influenced Panditji's singing of khayal in terms of 'badhat', which is of course common to all singers groomed in the Kirana style, and 'taankriya'. Has Panditji ever commented on any of this? What are your thoughts about Panditji's relationship with Amir Khan's gayaki?
Jayant Joshi:
The anecdotes you mention are true. My father didn’t quite regard Amir Khan as a mentor—but their relationship was full of respect and affection for each other. They occasionally sang on the same concert stage. And of course, my father greatly admired Amir Khan’s style of singing, and must have drawn inspiration from it—no question about that. I also came to know Khansahib as a person, and still remember his last performance here in Pune in the early 70s, which I recorded on a reel-to-reel tape recorder.
J.D: I'd like to talk about the differences between Carnatic and Hindustani classical singing. One important difference is that in the Carnatic tradition ragas are rendered in a much more prescribed form or manner, whereas Hindustani khayal is a freer form both melodically (swara) and rhythmically (taal), with greater scope for improvisation. Do you know if Panditji took to khayal singing for this reason, even as he incorporated—wittingly or unwittingly—ornamental features from Carnatic singing?
Jayant Joshi:
I agree with you completely about the difference between the two main systems of Indian music. As for his choice: my father didn’t formally learn classical Carnatic singing, and as I said before, was instantly drawn to Hindustani classical singing the moment he heard Abdul Karim Khan. That influence only kept growing—there was no looking back for him. There was never any question of making a choice between the two.
J.D: Let me ask you a rather sensitive question: Panditji took a number of singers under his wing over the years, including Shrikant Deshpande, Madhav Gudi and Upendra Bhat. But did he take a genuine interest in teaching them, or did he do it only out of a sense of obligation, as a duty and not a passion? Was his heart in it, or did his disciples simply end up laboring with futility under his enormous shadow, giving him their humble support in concerts and recitals?
Jayant Joshi:
Well, the disciples were themselves painfully aware that they couldn’t really get past trying to imitate Panditji’s physical and musical mannerisms. They would never emulate, or even get near the nuances and intricacies of his rich vocalism in terms of imaginative content, texture, suppleness, sweetness of tone, range of voice, etc. They couldn’t help but be in awe of his vocal prowess and larger-than-life personality as an accomplished and popular classical singer with no contemporary rival, at least in the Kirana style and tradition. His attitude was that of a singer who dazzles and inspires—being absorbed in his own world—more than of a teacher who keeps himself in the background while grooming his students to become good performers. Teaching in the conventional sense was not uppermost in his mind. And in any case his disciples could hardly be expected to follow him accurately in his inspired, pyrotechnic flights, or even in his deeper, more reflective improvisation in slow tempo.
J.D: You've grown up in the shadow of your father's enormous fame as a singer who was in constant demand throughout India for decades. Were you ever daunted or intimidated by this, or did you simply ignore this and pursue your own interests according to your abilities?
Jayant Joshi:
No, I was never intimidated by his fame. But I’ll say this: my father’s towering musical personality and physical stamina were so overpowering that I simply basked in the luminous and joyous ambience of it all.
J.D: Thank you, Jayant.
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* At Pt. Bhimsen Joshi’s residence, “Kalashree” in Navi Peth, Pune on Jan 1st, 2009 and a few subsequent occasions.
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