On the farthest side of the majestic shamiyana that houses the 5000 main guests at the SGMF is the open ground that features the music related stalls, and a solitary giant screen. I always prefer to sit there rather than on chairs or sofas because one needs to walk about and savour so many other flavours apart from just listening and watching. Old l
adies come equipped with durries, shawls, homemade savouries, and knitting needles.
That ladies are multitasking, more so when they reach the grandma age, is amply seen here. I could see three such sets, one couple of ladies engaged in knitting, another pair busy weaving mogra ‘venis’ that is a must for a stylish lady, and finally one foreigner lady busy weaving what seemed like a belt churning itself out from four or five thick cotton strings. All were deft, precise and yet, deeply aware of the music. This picnic atmosphere, and homeliness makes the whole experience something else altogether. Friendly folks, they are always helpful.
Sanjeev Chimulgi, the upcoming young Kirana singer started off sharply at 4.00pm with raag Bhimpalasi, elaborating upon with a degree of unsteadiness and a shade of nervousness on his face magnified by the hi-fi cameras that record and broadcast every emotional nuance on the artist’s face. The most common nuance continually for three days has been utter disgust, because there is an operator at the sound mixing control who has a passion for turning the volume, treble and bass low. He is rather stingy with increasing them liberally because the speaker to microphone feedback, a nightmare for sound engineers seems to be his obsessive fear. Even the announcer has had to tap the microphone again and again, which remains switched off all the time. The audience growls at such gaffes.
The raag picked up later on, since Puneri audience is famous for awarding a singer with applause continually or presenting a chilled response -nothing in-between. He presented three good sounding bandishes, followed up with a bhajan which drew wild applause with the first word ‘Laxmi’.
There are five tall trees with a sixth Palm Tree, which I have always thought as 3-4 stories high. There is something very attractive about these trees where several kites have made their nests. One kite was bringing a biggish twig to add to the new nest in the palm, when it struck me there are apartments five storey high just behind the trees. This means the trees are 8-9 storeys high, as they tower ar above the apartments. It’s great fun to watch these smaller cousins of the eagle glide about in space without flapping their wings, and build their nests so high. Absolutely riveting to watch all this when there is a gap between artists changing or even awkwardly choreographed awards ceremonies happen, the crowd slips away to sip warm tea or rummage through CDs in music stalls or chat in clusters, on cold winter evening or night.
The next was Kalapani Komkalli -what a musical name- the famous daughter of the legendary Pt Kumar Gandharv, whom I have never seen in person, though I am a regular at Hindustani and Karnatic live concerts since 1964. The closest I came to watching the maverick singer was at Baroda when he was invited by Komal Nishaad, a local music lovers group, and we were all set to see him perform in the main hall of Laxmi Vilas Palace. That was not to be. He was suddenly awarded the Kalidasa award by the M.P. government and he had to stay back home. The concert never happened again, this was in late 1980s. He passed away a few years later.
I have seen and heard Kalapani earlier on two or three occasions and she comes across as very confident, knowledgeable and fluent. Others in her family, like her, show distinct shades of Pt. Kumar Gandharv and his forceful style of singing. His singing style remained unpredictable. At times he would be gentler than a lover wooing a difficult-to-please raag, and at times he would sing as if slaying dragons with his sound-bytes.
I missed the announcement about the raag, and thought it was Marwa or Multani, from few notes in the beginning. Imagination, said Albert Einstein, is better than knowledge because knowledge can get you from A to Z, but imagination can get you anywhere. I closed my eyes, and saw this formidable raag which seems to be composed of sounds between the keys, as a giant two storeys high with bloodshot eyes radiating blazes, elephantine teeth and hairballs all over his scaly hide. She seemed like a teenaged school girl armed with just a twig. The giant rumbled and roared, thumped and trampled trees as if they were shrubs, and she kept on fighting him -using his energy to at least fatigue him if not destroy him. She is a lec-dem (lecture-demonstration) expert teaching youngsters how to appreciate Hindustani sangeet, so she has many weapons in her arsenal. By the end of the baDHat in the vilambit khayal the giant seemed thrashing his limbs and hissing like a wounded python. During the next phase she had turned the cluster of notes into docile rabbits, pulled out by her from hats to perform tricks. It was a most magical illusion, and one that successfully dispelled the initial daunting nature of the raag - and it turned into a melodious bandish soon. Absolutely amazing, the whole experience was. She later sang a composition in Hamir, ‘ajab duniya, jaariya kahan’ with a lot of feeling an ended with a shorter piece. Kalapini comes across as an accomplished singer.
The young pair of Sarangi players, Farooque Latif Khan and Sarwar Husain Khan came next, seemingly very uncertain, probably awed by the 10000 plus audience with its finicky taste and a penchant to give the cold shoulder to new artists should they stray. To make their first appearance more uphill they chose the sandhiprakash raag Shree, which like the two mentioned earlier, can become dry if not handled well. Their alap seemed as appealing as a desert, and the vilambit seemed like wild flower were sprouting up here and there. I reminisced about the good old days till 1980s when a relaxed Sarangi performance on the radio would invariably invoke the question : Kaun mar gaya? With the frequent passing away of oldies in powers that be, it was mourning period for three days, and the plaintive sounds of Sarangi would blank out all other music. They sounded rather like that. However they shone with their brilliance in the drut gat, wherein the savaal-javaab that beganin the latter portion vilambit, found a great unfurling. The table and the pakhavaj, gave ‘sound’ accompaniment with dramatic interludes. The foreigner lady sitting close-by was so much moved by the spectacle of this weird instrument being used as weapons in a duel, with great histrionics being employed by the uncle-nephew duo, that she abandoned her weaving, and sat mesmerised with her jaw dropping and eyes agog. The performance was superbly dramatic. They are fun to watch.
I was roaming in the music stalls later, when my favourite singer Pandit Ulhas Kashalkar came to introduce his child prodigy son Sameehan Kashalkar who is an ITC Sangeet Research scholar, and who like a no nonsense oldie, asked the sleepy sound engineer to increase the sharp -this set the tone for the performance, He needed to ask the guy for more volume, less bass what not. He sings with an authentic control over all the nuances of vocal performance one would expect from a much older singer. By now my neighbour who would guard my place during various forays into music stalls and the faraway loo, was nodding and clapping enthusiastically. I leaned over to ask him how old the boy must be. He said not more than 13. Whew, this is in the mould of Ustad Rashid Khan, the darling of Puneri crowds whom I first saw at the Laxmi Vilas Palace 3-day long festival by the ITC Akadami, he too was 13 years old when launched.
Sameehan, who seems slated to go far, started off with raag Kedar and gave a very convincing account of the melody. Fils was joined by Pere Kashalkar and they sang raag Bihag. It was a very catchy composition, and Pt. Suresh Talwalkar whose disciples had been accompanying artists in almost all performances so far, accompanied the father and son duo. It was a wonderful performance.
That ladies are multitasking, more so when they reach the grandma age, is amply seen here. I could see three such sets, one couple of ladies engaged in knitting, another pair busy weaving mogra ‘venis’ that is a must for a stylish lady, and finally one foreigner lady busy weaving what seemed like a belt churning itself out from four or five thick cotton strings. All were deft, precise and yet, deeply aware of the music. This picnic atmosphere, and homeliness makes the whole experience something else altogether. Friendly folks, they are always helpful.
Sanjeev Chimulgi, the upcoming young Kirana singer started off sharply at 4.00pm with raag Bhimpalasi, elaborating upon with a degree of unsteadiness and a shade of nervousness on his face magnified by the hi-fi cameras that record and broadcast every emotional nuance on the artist’s face. The most common nuance continually for three days has been utter disgust, because there is an operator at the sound mixing control who has a passion for turning the volume, treble and bass low. He is rather stingy with increasing them liberally because the speaker to microphone feedback, a nightmare for sound engineers seems to be his obsessive fear. Even the announcer has had to tap the microphone again and again, which remains switched off all the time. The audience growls at such gaffes.
The raag picked up later on, since Puneri audience is famous for awarding a singer with applause continually or presenting a chilled response -nothing in-between. He presented three good sounding bandishes, followed up with a bhajan which drew wild applause with the first word ‘Laxmi’.
There are five tall trees with a sixth Palm Tree, which I have always thought as 3-4 stories high. There is something very attractive about these trees where several kites have made their nests. One kite was bringing a biggish twig to add to the new nest in the palm, when it struck me there are apartments five storey high just behind the trees. This means the trees are 8-9 storeys high, as they tower ar above the apartments. It’s great fun to watch these smaller cousins of the eagle glide about in space without flapping their wings, and build their nests so high. Absolutely riveting to watch all this when there is a gap between artists changing or even awkwardly choreographed awards ceremonies happen, the crowd slips away to sip warm tea or rummage through CDs in music stalls or chat in clusters, on cold winter evening or night.
The next was Kalapani Komkalli -what a musical name- the famous daughter of the legendary Pt Kumar Gandharv, whom I have never seen in person, though I am a regular at Hindustani and Karnatic live concerts since 1964. The closest I came to watching the maverick singer was at Baroda when he was invited by Komal Nishaad, a local music lovers group, and we were all set to see him perform in the main hall of Laxmi Vilas Palace. That was not to be. He was suddenly awarded the Kalidasa award by the M.P. government and he had to stay back home. The concert never happened again, this was in late 1980s. He passed away a few years later.
I have seen and heard Kalapani earlier on two or three occasions and she comes across as very confident, knowledgeable and fluent. Others in her family, like her, show distinct shades of Pt. Kumar Gandharv and his forceful style of singing. His singing style remained unpredictable. At times he would be gentler than a lover wooing a difficult-to-please raag, and at times he would sing as if slaying dragons with his sound-bytes.
I missed the announcement about the raag, and thought it was Marwa or Multani, from few notes in the beginning. Imagination, said Albert Einstein, is better than knowledge because knowledge can get you from A to Z, but imagination can get you anywhere. I closed my eyes, and saw this formidable raag which seems to be composed of sounds between the keys, as a giant two storeys high with bloodshot eyes radiating blazes, elephantine teeth and hairballs all over his scaly hide. She seemed like a teenaged school girl armed with just a twig. The giant rumbled and roared, thumped and trampled trees as if they were shrubs, and she kept on fighting him -using his energy to at least fatigue him if not destroy him. She is a lec-dem (lecture-demonstration) expert teaching youngsters how to appreciate Hindustani sangeet, so she has many weapons in her arsenal. By the end of the baDHat in the vilambit khayal the giant seemed thrashing his limbs and hissing like a wounded python. During the next phase she had turned the cluster of notes into docile rabbits, pulled out by her from hats to perform tricks. It was a most magical illusion, and one that successfully dispelled the initial daunting nature of the raag - and it turned into a melodious bandish soon. Absolutely amazing, the whole experience was. She later sang a composition in Hamir, ‘ajab duniya, jaariya kahan’ with a lot of feeling an ended with a shorter piece. Kalapini comes across as an accomplished singer.
The young pair of Sarangi players, Farooque Latif Khan and Sarwar Husain Khan came next, seemingly very uncertain, probably awed by the 10000 plus audience with its finicky taste and a penchant to give the cold shoulder to new artists should they stray. To make their first appearance more uphill they chose the sandhiprakash raag Shree, which like the two mentioned earlier, can become dry if not handled well. Their alap seemed as appealing as a desert, and the vilambit seemed like wild flower were sprouting up here and there. I reminisced about the good old days till 1980s when a relaxed Sarangi performance on the radio would invariably invoke the question : Kaun mar gaya? With the frequent passing away of oldies in powers that be, it was mourning period for three days, and the plaintive sounds of Sarangi would blank out all other music. They sounded rather like that. However they shone with their brilliance in the drut gat, wherein the savaal-javaab that beganin the latter portion vilambit, found a great unfurling. The table and the pakhavaj, gave ‘sound’ accompaniment with dramatic interludes. The foreigner lady sitting close-by was so much moved by the spectacle of this weird instrument being used as weapons in a duel, with great histrionics being employed by the uncle-nephew duo, that she abandoned her weaving, and sat mesmerised with her jaw dropping and eyes agog. The performance was superbly dramatic. They are fun to watch.
I was roaming in the music stalls later, when my favourite singer Pandit Ulhas Kashalkar came to introduce his child prodigy son Sameehan Kashalkar who is an ITC Sangeet Research scholar, and who like a no nonsense oldie, asked the sleepy sound engineer to increase the sharp -this set the tone for the performance, He needed to ask the guy for more volume, less bass what not. He sings with an authentic control over all the nuances of vocal performance one would expect from a much older singer. By now my neighbour who would guard my place during various forays into music stalls and the faraway loo, was nodding and clapping enthusiastically. I leaned over to ask him how old the boy must be. He said not more than 13. Whew, this is in the mould of Ustad Rashid Khan, the darling of Puneri crowds whom I first saw at the Laxmi Vilas Palace 3-day long festival by the ITC Akadami, he too was 13 years old when launched.
Sameehan, who seems slated to go far, started off with raag Kedar and gave a very convincing account of the melody. Fils was joined by Pere Kashalkar and they sang raag Bihag. It was a very catchy composition, and Pt. Suresh Talwalkar whose disciples had been accompanying artists in almost all performances so far, accompanied the father and son duo. It was a wonderful performance.
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