The Sounds of the Morning Ragas

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this Story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and unintentional.

‘Ga Pa ma dha ne sa………ga pa ma dha ne sa…….. aiyo Ghanshyam….. aiyo re Ghanshyam’.

When strains of this song poured out from her car’s music system, Priya at the wheel got mesmerized and felt that she had been transported to a different world.

A much peaceful world.

Of the ‘Morning Ragas’.

And smiled to herself.

For from tomorrow morning, she was going to witness these songs being sung live, and that too almost every day. For the next few days.

Priya was traveling to a small city on the outskirts of Pune, where her sister Divya had built a small music Gurukul, called ‘Swar Anand Gurukul’.

Divya was Priya’s much older sister and had been married into the Jog family, who just loved to surround themselves with music and melody, throughout their homes and lives.

Divya had been pulled into this vortex of music by her husband Gandharva Jog. Gandharva had been her initiator into the world of music, serving as her teacher, guide, mentor, and philosopher.

That was thirty years ago when they had been married.

But now it was the other way round!

Now it was Divya who had coaxed her husband Ghandharav to build a small music Gurukul near Pune, especially since now that they were filled with a void after their only child, daughter Swarali, had got married and had migrated off to Australia.

Gandharva had built the small Gurukul on the outskirts of Pune, on his ancestral farm. After retirement, they sold off their huge bungalow in Pune and other assets, built a small house in their Gurukul, and like ascetics, left everything from the material world and went off to live in their Gurukul.

“The pace and simplicity of life” Divya, said to her sister Priya when Priya asked her what had made her prefer the ‘village life’ over the ‘city life’.

A reverse osmosis.

“The slowness of life……….as if Time itself almost stops to think and linger in this village……….as if Time loves to spend more time here, smelling the roses, wandering through the day, sometimes doing absolutely nothing and strangely enjoying every minute of it, loitering in the fields like a naughty child rather than simply rushing and running and racing and trying to win.” Divya had explained, almost poetically.

Priya smiled.

At her sister’s words and her poetic sense.

Which was the only thing that defeated Priya.

The natural flow of poetry (self-composed or learned by heart), made or borrowed, the recitation of poems and shlokas and mantras so naturally and effectively, as if they were the ‘water that gushes’ naturally through the waterfall, was the only quality that separated the sisters and siblings.

Other than that they were almost the same and equivalent in intelligence and taste and behavior.

Almost twins!

“Does Time stop when it listens to your ‘Morning Ragas’?”Priya teased Divya, paying her back in her coin.

The poetic way.

Now it was Divya’s turn to smile back.

“Of course! Time stops, worries stop, stress stops………everything stops…….when ‘Morning Ragas’ are going on” Divya said.

‘Morning Ragas’ was the singing of morning ragas and songs and surs in the ‘Swar Anand Gurukul’. 

Usually, Divya or her husband or any one of their thirty-odd students, staying and studying in the Gurukul started the day with songs and tunes of the morning, in the program called the ‘Morning Ragas’. 

It was the first session of the day where teachers Divya and her husband Gandharva, taught by singing while the students learned by hearing. Naturally, it was the most sweetest and musical start of the day in ‘Swar Anand Gurukul  ’.

‘Morning Ragas’ was the highlight of the day, because it set the tempo and the mood for the rest of the day and had been designed specially to include swar, surs and ragas that created positive and energetic morning vibes.

Divya and her husband had also organized a ‘Morning Raga Mahotosav’ in their ‘Swar Anand Gurukul’ which was to last a fortnight. Established or upcoming singers and musicians had been invited to perform in the ‘Morning Raga Mahotosav’ and Priya dared not miss it for anything in the world.

When Priya reached the ‘Swar Anand Gurukul ’, she was both fascinated and thrilled to see the peace and tranquility of the place that her sister Divya and brother-in-law Gandharav had managed to create. The simplicity of rural life, the slow pace, the greenery, and the free and random roaming around of cattle and dogs and bullock carts added to the charm of the village.

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The first day of the ‘The Morning Ragas Mhoatosav’ started with the predawn and dawn ragas, namely Gunkali, Ramkali, and Lalit ragas, sung by Ghandharav and one of his disciples in clean, clear, open voices.

This was followed by one of the 12 variants of the early Morning Raga Todi.

Divya then experimented a bit, when she seamlessly merged the different gharanas in her style, creating a new expression in music. Akin to an inventor combining known elements to create surprisingly new and beautiful elements. Divya having absorbed training in different types of gayakis- the Agra, the Gwalior, and the Jaipur styles of gayakis, sang in a controlled voice which proved her brilliance and her training, creating an ambiance that can be created only by weighing the notes of a raga correctly and presenting a raga correctly.

“The role of the ragas in classical music is not to surprise or to stun you, but to soothe you and touch your soul with its melody and rhythm” Divya explained to her disciples, as she sang, note after note, to near-perfection.

The vilambit khayal in teen taal and the enduring wait for her first touch of elusive Pa after a good five minutes into the recital made the audience wanting, even gasping for more.

Greedily.

Her slow caressing and coaxing of every note and every nuisance built up the raga's personality and structure until the students of classical music could almost visualize the notes and feel the ‘feelings’ in the notes!

Divya then treated her audience and students to a brilliant bandish which was again well received by the knowledgeable listeners. The next raga that she sang was Raga Ahir Bhairon with a deep and somber rendition of ‘re’, and the first composition lifted the song and the soul of the listeners effortlessly to its signatory high pitch.

Divya being not just a good teacher but a good student first had worked for years on the correct interpretation of ragas, following the rules of progression, creatively and correctly.

Resulting in her masterstroke of a performance that did not indulge in her ‘over-the-top’ exhibition of her maneuvering skills or lead to the undue prolonging of the raga, just to garnish applause and impact.

Rather she presented the bandish as raw and as natural, as musically possible.

The landing of the ragas was equally effortless, another characteristic of a master singer!

The effect of these musical renditions was as expected. It touched and thrilled both man and animals, trees and birds alike. And a certain unexplainable peace could be felt in the Gurukul.

‘Or was it just her soul that was at peace with the environment?’ Priya wondered to herself.

Priya felt that her inner self, her deep core had been touched by the ‘Morning Ragas’. She could distinctively feel a certain peace and tranquility radiating not just from herself but from all the animate objects in the Gurukul, men and women and children, birds and insects, trees and flowers. 

Anything and everything that was born with a soul inside!

Priya could feel a peace descend on the Gurukul as if ‘peace’ was a huge invisible cloud hovering over the entire Gurukul.

And because of this feeling of magic and mystery, both explainable and unexplainable, she understood why musicians and singers touch the soul of man, the very essence of man.

For the first time in her life, Priya got a glimpse of her soul, her inner self, and her real core. Through music.

Music had introduced ‘her to herself’!

She saw the real ‘me’ or the real ‘I’ through music. 

Through the ‘Morning Ragas’.

The disciples of the Gurukul then rendered their performances, sometimes vocal, sometimes with musical instruments, sometimes both. Their performances, needless to say, were a staggering success. Though Priya did not understand the finer nuances of the ragas, she felt that she was enveloped within waves of divine music all around and was thankful for it. She could feel her nerves soothing, her inner unexplained anger and her invisible stress, slowly settling down. Like mud in a sedimentation experiment.

The result was awesome.

The ripples of peace and tranquility that erupted in the lake of music went a long, long way.

In circles. Of small to larger and then larger diameters.

Expanding, enhancing, and igniting the peace and stillness that was within the souls of the listeners.

Priya naturally felt blessed and in bliss!

She vowed that she would not miss a single performance throughout the fortnight.

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The next days in the ‘Morning Ragas Mhatosav’ comprised of established singers and musicians, who proved to be excellent gurus for the disciples of the Gurukul.

They are the ones who taught, by experience and experiment, how to appreciate the finer tunes of music and melody.

“The greatest song is in silence” began a renowned Panditji who had come from Indore to sing and teach, “Especially the silence between the two words or two sounds or two notes. That silence is music. That silence is significant. For though it is silence, it is full of meaning, hence it is very profound.”

The disciples hung on to every word, holding onto the meaning of the Panditiji’s teachings like they had been taught to hold on to their surs or breaths while singing.

“Hold the sur”

“Hold the breath”

The disciples had been taught these elementary things by almost every teacher, for it was the very discipline in thought and behavior that made a great singer or musician.

They were taught to hold on to their breath, their surs at the right moment, the right note.

“Surrender!” was Panditji’s reply when someone asked him how to become a good student of music “Surrender to your Guru and his teachings”

Further, he explained "Classical music can only be taught by the Guru-Shisha Parampara, which is an elaborate process or rather a way of life. In the Gurukul, the students learn not just the subjects but also observe how the Gurus live and worship music with devotion, and the Guruji’s life itself becomes the first lesson”

The shisha learns more by observing. 

Moreover, learning being a continuous process, cannot be limited to class hours. It has to be lived throughout the day. And night. Which can be achieved only by living the life of a Shisha and by emulating the Guru.

For music was something that could neither be taught nor be learned within the framework of a strict timetable, within a limited framework of time.

It was something that required hundreds of days and nights of rigorous practice, resulting in the seeping of knowledge in the lives of the shisha until he became ripe with knowledge and practice.

“Practice and Patience” answered Panditiji when asked ‘what was the secret to success’, “Learning and mastering of music can never be achieved even in one lifetime” Panditji went on “It requires infinite time and patience. Because we believe in many lives and infinite time, we can hope of learning and mastering music over many ages, many lives”.

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This musical fest was a musical feast and went on for a full fifteen days.

Priya had not even realized the passage of time, so enthralled was she by the effects of the ‘Morning Ragas Mahotsav’ that she was still in the same mood when she came home to Mumbai late at night and went off to sleep immediately, tired as she was with the long journey.

Until the ‘Morning Ragas’ of Mumbai woke her up.

The loud noise of the local trains speeding by, the strain of ‘bhajans’ sung by the ‘bhajani mandalas’ in the trains, the gushing of the waves and their thundering as they hit the rocks, again and again, the wind whistling in the palm trees by the sea, the fluttering sound of the pigeons in unison, the impatient honks of taxis and buses, the continuous ‘tring tring’ of the newspaper boy’s cycle’s bell, the sizzling sound made by the frying of tempting batata vadas in huge vessels of boiling oil, the songs and cricket commentary played on radios in adjacent homes of the chawls, the chirping of birds and children in the playground, the shrill noise made by the opening of shutters of shops, the aarti heard from the neighbor’s flats, the hawkers preparing dosa or bhel, the bustling energy of Mumbai’s famous dabbawalas……all filled the morning and Priya’s tiny home, as she sat in the chawl’s balcony, reading her morning newspaper.

 “What are you doing Priya?” Divya asked her in the morning.

Priya breathed in the sounds surrounding her, the sounds which she was so familiar with, the sounds which made up her life, the sounds which were the very identity of the city, and chuckling with quiet satisfaction and acceptance of her reality said mischievously, “Listening to the ‘Morning Ragas’ of Mumbai!”