He took pains to excel as a pianist
Reeta Sharma

NEERAJ Rishi’s association with the Majlis Journalists and Artists Association goes back to 1988, when he performed at a musical evening organised by the association. While the majority of the artists during the rehearsals indulged in harmless pranks and had fun, Neeraj oblivious of his surroundings would remain absorbed in his practice. I often used to observe that he appeared to be in a trance, totally obsessed with suras, as if enjoying their effect on him.

He caught my attention not only because he was different but also because of his philosophical outpourings. Some of his utterances over the years have remained in my mind. For instance, once he said: "My soul doesn’t let me sleep." When I asked why, he brusquely commented, "I don’t enjoy the music I am playing these days. I am bored photocopying the tunes created by music masters of old Hindi films. There is nothing challenging in what I am doing."

But then Neeraj was born in India and caught in the struggle of rozi, roti, like any of us from the middle class. His responsibility towards his wife and children continued to drag him to recording studios, where he was getting paid by the hour. Just when I was beginning to think that Neeraj had finally compromised with his situation, he said: "We play with singers who have money but no sense of sur, taal or even voice’. It is so frustrating." Was he being arrogant? No. Once again, he was speaking from his heart, for he left the studios to play for primary school students. This fetched him less money but he liked teaching nursery rhymes and giving tuitions to a talented few.

Neeraj’s life has been a struggle — typical of any artist in the Third World country who is trying hard to keep his talent alive as well as make both ends meet. Neeraj had actually started out as a guitarist in Patiala in 1978. He was so fond of playing the guitar that for four years he practised for about 20 hours a day. His father, a bank employee, did his best to help him hone his talent. He bought him a guitar for Rs 1,000, when ordinary ones were available for about Rs 150. Neeraj’s obsession finally took him to Mumbai. He played before the Cinema Music Association, which promptly selected him as a life member in 1984. "But I did not like Mumbai. The cut-throat competition had eroded the sensitivities of the people. They had lost the capacity to appreciate a good or promising artiste. I could not bear all this and returned to Chandigarh."

Rajeev began his career by playing in restaurants and giving tuitions. All along, he was teaching music to himself. He realised that piano was the ultimate in musical instruments. Till date, he doesn’t own a piano but he has emerged as one of the best pianists in the city by practising piano notes on the keyboard.

Each time that I have met him, I have noticed that his obsession with music had become more intense than the last time. Even in the consumerist world of today, Neeraj continues to give more importance to his music. Worried about his earnings, I asked him: "Why don’t you demand more money from your tuition-seekers, for they all come from affluent families?" Prompt came his reply, "Ziada paise kya karne hein, Madam. Besides giving tuitions, I play at a restaurant in the evening and teach nursery rhymes in a school in the morning. All this runs my home. So, why charge people more?"

What about his ambition to excel as a musician? Well, he is passionately pursuing his goal. He is preparing to take examinations for IV Grades (piano) of Royal School of London, all in one go. These exams are also conducted in New Delhi. Why does he want to take these exams? "I have not only realised that piano is the ultimate musical instrument but also feel that people are again beginning to take interest in playing the piano in Chandigarh. The demand for tuitions is increasing with each passing day. Recently, a mother approached me to teach her two-year-old daughter. But I had to ask her to wait for another two years, as playing the piano can be very tough on the fingers; a two-year-old will not be able to bear such strain. It is the most challenging instrument. For a piece of the duration of seven minutes to eight minutes, one needs at least 30 hours of practice."

But how does he manage to devote that much time? "I think till now I haven’t been very serious about my music. But now I have decided to become a sadhu," he replied in a matter-of-fact manner. "There will be no drinking, no smoking; I will practise meditation with piano."

But why is he laying so much stress on the piano, when his first love was the guitar?

"There is no comparison of the piano anywhere in the world. Our Indian music is primarily vocal. Most of our instruments offer a limited number of suras. For instance, tanpura has only four notes and tumbi just two. The sitar, tabla, dholak and mridang produce beautiful music but not much can be raved about their notes. The time when we were developing the tanpura, the western classical instrumentalists had already produced the piano with as many as 88 notes. We hear that when Tansen sang Raga Deepak, lamps got lighted but unfortunately till date we do not have the script of that raga or of any other raga of that era. We do not know which notes he actually used. We have only developed some semblance of those ragas. On the contrary, we have access to the scripts of the tunes played on the piano even centuries ago ."

Doesn’t he think that artistes in India mostly belong to economically weaker strata, hence an instrument like the piano, which costs at least Rs 1.5 lakh, is usually beyond their reach? "Yes, there is no denying this fact. My own example is enough to substantiate this fact. Even though I have been a pianist for the past 10 years, I cannot dream of buying the piano for myself. I only get to practise it in the school. But I have ensured that my daughter, Anuja, gets to practise the piano."

A student of Class VI, Anuja has already won her father’s heart as his keen and devoted student. "She first caught my attention when I asked her to practise some notes and left the room to return after three hours. I was dumbfounded to see that she had not stopped practising even for a minute and didn’t notice my return. That very day I knew she was cut out for playing this instrument. I think girls have better control over their mind. My son, on the other hand, is a typical restless and fidgety boy, who keeps finding excuses to escape music lessons. But Anuja is even more obsessed with the piano than I am. She can already play the instrument continuously for half an hour, " beams the proud father.

This music lover wants to open an academy for piano enthusiasts in Chandigarh after he clears the Royal School of London examinations.