Pandit Jasraj on Longevity and Legacy
Aarshin Karande shares his initial research on how knowing about the Mewati Gharana’s history can shed light about Pandit Jasraj’s significance and legacy.
Even amongst musicians, “musicality” is a rare feature. This is particularly true with Indian Classical music which demands a lot artistically, scientifically, and practically from listeners and students. Making music and being musical — tending to and serving music — defines the difference between a practitioner and an icon. Consequently, Pandit Jasraj is not just an icon but an unforeseen genius who has permanently transformed the trajectory of raag sangeet.
As Pandit Jasraj marked his 90th birthday earlier this year in January, I could not help but reflect about his unprecedentedly irrevocable impact on the idea of “classicism” in classical music. He, like Kumar Gandharva, became one of the most scrutinized classical musicians in the last century. Jasraj’s ideas and practices surrounding what makes Hindustani Classical music “classical” challenged the Atrauli-centric gaze of the intelligentsia who fostered raag sangeet in career-making cities like Mumbai, Delhi, and Calcutta. So, how did a discounted underdog from an obscure tradition become today’s greatest living Hindustani classical vocalist?
Unraveling the Mewati Gharana
Early in his career, Pandit Jasraj was lambasted as a romanticist zealot who imported too many influences from non-classical sources and adapted too many aesthetics from trailblazers like Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, Amir Khan, and Omkarnath Thakur. Many since continue to question the legitimacy of his Mewati gharana, particularly in light of the romantic narratives surrounding popularly acknowledged traditions like Gwalior, Agra, Jaipur-Atrauli, and Kirana gharanas.
Though, an informed exploration of the Mewati gharana and its historical shaping proves that Pandit Jasraj managed to not just resurrect but ignite a musical tradition that was left for the forgotten pages of history.
The Mewati gharana emerged at the same time as and from similar influences as the Kasur-Patiala Gharana and Rampur-Sahaswan Gharana. It was pioneered by two brothers from a dhrupadiya family, “Ghagge” Nazir Khan and Wahid Khan, who took to khayal upon studying with and marrying into the families of major music legends at the Gwalior Court. Nazir Khan was a vocalist and elder brother Wahid Khan was a been-player. Consequently, Mewati gharana has a vocal tradition and instrumental tradition that has converged at several points in history.
Uniquely, the vocalist branch of Mewati gharana brings together the khayal-centric tradition of Qawwal Bacche gharana from Waris Ali Khan (son of the titanic Bade Mohammed Khan of Rewa) and Chhote Mohammed Khan (son of the titanic Haddu Khan of Gwalior). This union is noteworthy because Bade Mohammed Khan and Haddu Khan were regarded as competing court musicians at Gwalior.
Legend says that members of Haddu Khan’s family (who were dhrupadiyas) spied on Bade Mohammed Khan (who was a khayaliya) when he was doing riyaaz and they “stole” the techniques unique to khayal music (such as bijli-ka-taan and sargam) that would come to define the ashtanga-gayaki of the Gwalior gayaki and subsequently define the modern khayal form.
This moment reclassified khayal as high-art because it was adopted into the “rigor” dhrupadiya practices. In many ways, khayaliyas were seen as a lower “caste” than dhrupadiyas. This is also reflected by Alladiya Khan, a dhrupadiya, who was restricted from studying the attractive gayaki of Mubarak Ali Khan (Bade Mohammed Khan’s son) because the latter was a khayaliya. Later, Alladiya Khan would name his gharana, the Jaipur-Atrauli gharana, as an ode to Mubarak Ali Khan, who was a court musician at Jaipur. Alladiya Khan went on to bring practicing khayal into his repertoire by transposing dhrupad compositions into the khayal form.
A close study of Pandit Jasraj’s gayaki will reveal echoes from these historical traces. One simple observation tells us this: Gharanas that were originally dhrupadiya feature gayakis that are gamak-driven (e.g. Gwalior, Agra, Jaipur-Atrauli, and Kirana) where even meend is characterized by weighted intonation. Differently, gharanas that are originally khayaliya feature gayakis that are meend-driven (e.g. Mewati, Delhi, Qawwal Bacche) where meend is unencumbered by weight. This is why Pandit Jasraj’s style is often classified as “kan gayaki.” The weightlessness of his meend and alap means a lot more can be said in less time. No wonder, then, why Kesarbai Kerkar once praised Pandit Jasraj decades ago saying, “Tum kitne sur me gate ho,” or, “How many notes you sing!”
Unraveling the “Rasraj”
Jasraj’s kan-gayaki has been criticized as too decorative by critics accustomed to the aggressive-tending minimalism of the dhrupad-rooted khayal from Gwalior, Agra, Jaipur-Atrauli, and Kirana traditions. Similarly, Jasraj’s gayaki features gamaks that are meend-based and other alankars reminiscent of the older Qawwal Bacchon style, like bijli-ka-taan, sargam, and meend-soot. This approach is comparable to Delhi gharana artists like Nasir Ahmed Khan. One can notice similarities between the taans of Pandit Maniram, Jasraj’s oldest brother and guru, and Nasir Ahmed Khan.
Differently, though, Mewati gayaki is philosophically attuned to the Meo people of Mewat and features a joint notion of “bhakti” from Hindu and Islamic traditions. Often described as a bhaav-pradhan gayaki, the Mewati style is fundamentally a bhakti-pradhan gayaki.
Importantly here, Mewati gayaki sees bhaav as rooted in bhakti — certainly a philosophical influence from the Sufi roots of Qawwal Bacche gayaki. An exploration of Mewati gharanas paramparic repertoire will feature as many qawwali compositions as dhrupad compositions. Though, these remain largely unperformed in public.
As someone who has accidentally been an exclusive student of the Mewati Gharana for nearly two decades, exploring this unaccounted history has been revealing. There are many convergences and divergences between ideology and practice in raag sangeet. What is preached in Indian Classical music is not always practiced.
Invented histories are often a mainstay of artforms that did not make a habit of documentation. At a young age, I was attracted to Pandit Jasraj’s bhakti sangeet and, upon devouring whatever theory and history of Indian Classical music I could from the United States, was left unable to contextualize Pandit Jasraj against an adequate historical background. As a social scientist, media researcher, and design strategist, I was left with a prolonging insatiable curiosity that was left unquenched. Who are the people whose shoulders Pandit Jasraj’s music stands tall upon today?
This led me to connect with and engage Pandit Jasraj in a series of interviews that will, hopefully, result in a book featuring a critical, analytical, and historical account of Mewati Gharana and its contributions to raag sangeet.
This project, to me, is essential for a competent assessment of what Pandit Jasraj has meant to Indian Classical music. Can we understand Bhimsen Joshi without knowing Ramkrishnabuwa Vaze? Can we understand Kishori Amonkar without knowing Kesarbai Kerkar? Often we leave geniuses on pedestals and forego the de-romanticizing task of discovering what literal and figurative genes make geniusness.
Interviews with a Maestro
The following features excerpts from my discussions with Pandit Jasraj over the past year. Upon learning from our exchanges, I have come to terms with the depressing knowing that much will be left unaccounted about Pandit Jasraj’s creative genius and musical majesty. But, my life has been sweetened since inviting him to step down from the pedestal that I created for him so that he could humble my endless curiosity.
Q: What would you like to share about your music that is not usually asked about? I have always been curious about the person behind creative contributions and their minds. What is important to you?
A: I cannot explain to you who I am, because, I do not quite know myself who am I. To any musician, the most important thing is to make good music that reaches out to his or her audience and appeals to wider audiences, the audience which may not be [of] music connoisseurs and an audience like yourself who is able to understand it at a deeper level.
The greatness in the musical creations is not my contribution, it comes from somewhere else. If I start thinking that I am going to make this composition great, it won’t happen, but as I offer my creations to my gurus and the Lord, suddenly, the composition is great.
The extent to which I am remembered is, I think, already a little much. But I am sure about one thing, that people like you will not let the masses forget me or my contribution to music. People like yourself will keep me and my music alive for many, many generations to come.
Q: Many assume that Indian Classical music is inherently spiritual. But, how do you experience spirituality as you sing? People feel the presence of divinity in your music. How do you think you achieve that?
Someone else asked me the same question today. The answer is simple. I am not the one who sings, and you are not the one who listens. He, the Supreme the Lord, is the one who sings and He is the one who listens. He is the one that pours the rasa in the music. Naad Brahma is none other than Bhagwan himself and my music is his bhakti.
Q: Your version of musical spirituality is very integrationist and open, comparatively. We are asked to transcend religious boundaries, yet you have done it musically. You often sing, “Allah, Om.” Where did the ability to transcend such boundaries, before it became politically fashionable, come to you?
A: Music knows no physical, geographical, or religious boundaries. It is boundless. In 1944 when my Bade Bhai Sahib [Pandit Maniram] lost and regained his voice while singing to Maa Kali and I was accompanying him on tabla, I realized however you may want to address, whether it is “Allah,” or “Om,” or “Maa Kali,” it is all one.
Q: To me, bhakti is the “praan” of your music and one of the many reasons it has stood the test of time and continues to expand in new ways. But, in terms of practice, how did you cultivate bhakti in your musical technique? What do you do to get to a place where you are in devotion? How can students of music today learn this?
A: You are absolutely right. Like I said before, offering is a big thing. If you offer your music, your learning, to Bhagwan and ask him to accept it, that is it, your bhakti/aradhana will start. I am not saying it will happen overnight, but the color of devotion/bhakti will slowly start to seep into your music.
Q: Your taste, sense of beauty, and creative instincts have completely evolved the aesthetic outlook of Indian Classical music. The “maahol” and soundscape you consistently generate is unprecedented. How did you cultivate and evolve a sense of beauty over your life? How can students of music practice this today?
A: Just offer it to the lord and feel that your offering is being accepted and you are being blessed. It will bring all the “maahol,” the beauty, the creativity, the divinity in your music.
Q: Your music has the incredible ability of expressing intense feelings and spirituality but at the same time also impresses audiences with your ability, power, and energy. How did you balance this ability to impress and express? What can students of music today do to build that skill?
A: Riyaaz, riyaaz, and riyaaz.
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Written by Aarshin Karande for Surasik. Support Surasik on Patreon!
