Saturday, June 23, 2001 |
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THANKS to shehnai wizard Ustad Bismillah Khan, the simple reed instrument has found a place of pride in the world of music. Before him, its use was restricted to religious functions and, at best, to wedding receptions. Today, it is a concert instrument. Born on March 21, 1916, Bismillah Khan belongs to a family of professional shehnai players in Dumrao, a former princely state in Bihar. At the age of six, he moved to Benares, where his maternal uncle Ali Bux introduced him to the nuances of playing the instrument. "In those days,
people were not so sensitive about caste, community or religion,"
recalls Ustadji. "Being a Muslim, I could enter the temple of
Balaji or Mangala Maiya Mandir to practise in solitude. Today, this is
unthinkable." |
Even today, when he plays, the rhythms of a flowing river, the ethos of temples and relationships between human beings emerge as recurring themes in his recitals. "The shehnai is like the human soul," explains Ustadji. "When I play, I breathe life into it." Recognition and laurels came thick and fast to this artiste. While still in his teens, he had become a star performer at concerts and music festivals. There were also recording contracts, both from radio and gramophone companies, besides invitations to perform at private music soirees within India and abroad. "Even in those days, I had the fear of flying," chuckles the maestro. "I dreaded aeroplanes. As far as possible, I took the land route, by road or rail. But then, I realised I was failing in my mission of making the shehnai popular worldwide. So I undertook air trips... but quickly returned to be on home ground." Ustadji is so attached to Benares that no offer to shift base abroad (like Pandit Ravi Shankar or Ustad Allauddin Khan) can budge him. Many attribute this to certain "spiritual visions" he has experienced while practising in the temples there as a child. But the artiste chooses not to talk about them. "I remember one of my students had wanted me to head a shehnai school in the USA and he had even promised to create replicas of the temples of Benares there," he narrates. "I asked him if he would also be able to take the Ganga there!" Another pet grouse is composing for films. He hates doing so, although he had to oblige friends on two occasions: Vijay Bhatt for Goonj Uthi Shehnai, and Vikram Srinivas for a Tamil film called Sanadhi Apanna. Both were huge successes and he was flooded with offers. "I just cannot comes to terms with the artificiality and glamour of the film world," he explains. "I am a pious man and content with what I get. Why should I run for money and compromise my principles? So long as I have the blessings of the Almighty and the love of my listeners, I need nothing more." His first award came at the age of 14, as the best performer at the All-India Music Conference in Allahabad in 1930. The following year, he was awarded a gold medal at a music festival in Lucknow. Six years later, in 1937, he walked away with three gold medals at the Music Conference in Calcutta. On August 15, 1947, he was invited to play at Red Fort to mark the unfurling of the Tricolour for the first time. Since then, there have been countless government functions, religious ceremonies and inaugurations of expositions in India and abroad that have been blessed by his divine music. These include the World Exposition in Montreal in 1967, the Cannes Art Festival in 1969 and the Osaka Trade Fair in 1970. In 1990, an auditorium was named after him in Tehran — Talar Mosiquee Ustad Bismillah Khan. And in 1995, the World Music Institute celebrated his 80th birthday in New York. "I think I have got more than what a mortal should deserve in a lifetime," he smiles, as his face breaks into numerous wrinkles. "People say that the Bharat Ratna was a belated honour. But how does it matter? Every award or reward I get is a blessing of the Almighty. I accept it with all humility." MF |