I started learning Hindustani Classical Music very late, in my mid thirty, unlike the ideal age of four, five or six. I opted for a six year graduation course to be followed by Masters for two years. The first four years of the course I had already repeated twice before from two different private institutions. Also I had opted for music in middle and high school as well.
I had the good fortune of being under Guruji’s tutelage for almost four years of graduation. He worked in the Government and also taught music to very few privately. He had three kids – two sons and a daughter – all of them talented singers. His wife was a gentle soul. He lived in the neighbourhood a few blocks away – an easy commute for me.
Guruji was also a devout kali bhakt – a worshipper of Goddess Kali – which lent a spiritual dimension to his musical proficiency. A simple man with an unassuming lifestyle never did I see him hankering after money or fame.
Guruji introduced me to the Taanpura, a Sitar-look-alike, but with fewer strings , used as a base instrument in classical music. Taanpura gave more freedom facilitating scale, pitch and range. As per the conventional norms, Guruji relied on oral transmission of knowledge. I had to hear him and pick up the notes which was not easy. He discouraged written notations.
The biggest lesson that I learnt from Guruji was the art of innovation which is central to Indian classical music. He would introduce me to the framework of a Raga and let me wander within its periphery without going overboard or against the rules. It was elevating and made me realise the vastness of those seven (plus five flat) notes which could be woven into infinite patterns. It was amazingly creative.
I remember, the four of us would sit together – his three kids would be doing school work while I would be practising music. If any of us committed any mistake all four of us would get a scolding each. My class was for an hour on weekends but Guruji often forgot about the time and an hour would extend to another half an hour or more or till his wife reminded him of his other homely duties. But he never cared for time or asked me for extra fees.
At the end of the year was exam time. I was not worried about the Theory part – a written paper; but the Practical, which was performance based, made me sick with fear. Invariably I’d lose my voice which became a good pretext to avoid appearing for the exam. But Guruji would not hear a no. He had more confidence in me than I had in myself. Every year he would literally force me to go sing before very critical examiners. And every year, I , to my surprise, passed with flying colours.
I was neither a good student nor a good singer but Guruji invested a lot in terms of his time, energy, technique and knowledge in me for which I will always remain immensely grateful. In the middle of the fifth year Guruji changed base and shifted to another locality. It was not feasible for me to commute from one end of the city to the other to attend classes over the weekend. By this time I had also relocated and other priorities gradually overtook music.
Guruji did not believe in rote learning. He kindled my interest in the subject. He insisted that I listen to the maestros more than attempt to sing. That is how my ear for music got developed. He did encourage me for public performance. But I , diffident as ever, declined.
This post would be incomplete if I don’t mention Masterji – my tabla guru. In music melody is as important as beats. I was not very confident about the latter. I don’t remember how Masterji came to be my home tutor for tabla. He was from our school where he used to play the tabla in music classes. We could never imagine the Music Room without him – he was always there even if the music teacher was not – in whose absence he would make us practise with the beats. He ensured nobody bunked class. Since, we all sisters (cousins included) were from the same school Masterji was known to every one of us.
I came to know what a good human he was being when he came to teach me tabla at home. He never missed a class which was an additional source of income for him. But again he was not the sort to work only for money. He would be disappointed if I skipped a class. He accompanied me to the examination hall every year where he would play the tabla for me – a big moral support !! After every practical test he would smile satisfiedly and say that I had done fairly well.
During the same time I and Guruji relocated he became seriously ill and was unable to continue to teach. I am sorry I could not pay a visit to him then. Many years later I tried to reconnect with Guruji. But it was not to be. I had heard that he had lost his wife and his eldest son untimely. He had once complained about an enlarged heart and was considering a sabbatical from public performance. However, I still feel the warmth of his hand on my head when I would bow down to touch his feet in reverence.
panaecea 
