by
REKHA SURYA
North Indian Light Classical Vocal Music
Thumri And Its Allied Forms
Dedicated to
Begum Akhtar and Girija Devi
with gratitude
Epilogue
I was eleven years old when I first attended a Khayal concert in my hometown Lucknow, after which I wanted to learn classical music.
Some years later, I met Begum Akhtar who also lived in Lucknow. A common family friend had arranged a meeting in her home, where I was graciously received but my request to learn from her was flatly refused. She said that bitter experiences with students had made her decide to stop teaching. Just as I was about to leave, she told me to sing something for her. I sang one of her recorded ghazals and she dramatically said “Sirf isliye ke ye aawaaz zaaya na jaaye mein tumhe sikhaongi (I’ll teach you just so this voice doesn’t go waste).”
The next day I started learning from her. Whenever my father fetched me from her house she would tell him, “Allow this girl to sing on stage”. After morning classes she often told me to stay for lunch. In the afternoons we lay chatting on her bed while she stoked the embers of her past.
She told me that sin meant kisi ka dil dukhaana (to hurt someone’s feelings) and added mainey kabhi kisi ka bura nahin chaaha hai (I have never wished anyone ill). She believed that aik achchey fankaar hone ke liye aik achcha insaan hona zaroori hai (to be a good artist it is necessary to be a good person). Once when I had taken a gift for her she immediately telephoned my home to say that though not from her womb I was her child so there was no need for presents. She kept out-of-season fruit for me and began taking me with her for concerts. In Calcutta I saw a man prostrate himself at her feet in adulation. Ammi, as she was called by almost everyone who knew her, died much too soon.
A couple of years later, Girija Devi came to Lucknow to perform. I was invited to hear her sing, accompanied by Shanta Prasad on Tabla, at the home where she was staying. The host told her that my taalim under Begum Akhtar had been cut short. She asked about my plans to continue learning music, offered to teach me and told me to accompany her back to Benares after a few days. So I took the train with her to Benares, where I attended a Chaiti concert—upon entering a maidaan we were served thandai in earthen bowls; on an open stage, several male singers in white dhotis sat cross-legged in a neat semi-circle and began to sing a chaiti, improvising in turns.
Benares had electricity shortage, leading to severe self-pity during riyaaz while sweat trickled down my back. After lessons I was usually sent with a house member on a rickshaw to drink Benarsi lassi. Once Kishan Maharaj came over and invited me to his house where he proudly showed me the varieties of pigeons he reared and portraits of his ancestors, all Tabla-maestros.
I went to Benaras intermittently till Girija Devi accepted the post of Guru at Sangeet Research Academy in Calcutta. I joined SRA for a year, during which it organized a week-long seminar on Thumri—eminent musicologist Thakur Jaidev Singh and others analyzed the genre and excavated its origin. I gleaned facts about Thumri and its allied forms from that seminar and from my gurus, who I have quoted often in my interview while twirling the subject around to view it from all angles.