An era of shehnai

Ustad Amjad Ali Khan reminisces his memories with Ustad Bismillah Khan

Historically, shehnai players came from humble backgrounds and were not accorded much respect. In the weddings of rajas, maharajas and zamindars, shehnai players were always in an ensemble and sat on the first floor or the second floor so that the loudness of the instrument did not disturb the guests.

They were also discouraged from mingling with the guests. Gradually, shehnai players were made to sit at the entrance of marriage halls. It was undoubtedly degrading for an artist to be treated thus.

However, the legendary Bismillah Khan changed all this completely. This small instrument, hardly two feet long, with its roots in Persia, produced magical notes that hypnotized listeners.

Bismillah Khan's real name was Qamaruddin Khan. He was born in Dumraon, Bihar, on 21 March 1916 to Paigambar Khan and Mitthan. His father was a musician in the court of Maharaja Keshav Pratap Singh of Dumraon.

His great-grandfather, Hussain Baksh, and grandfather,
Rasool Baksh, were court musicians at Dumrao Palace.

Maharaja Keshav Prasad Singh of Dumrao was a great patron of art and culture. Bismillah Khan's elder brother, Shamsuddin, was also an eminent shehnai player. When he was six years old, Qamaruddin and his family shifted to Benaras where his uncle, Ustad Ali Baksh, a famous shehnai player of the time and an employee of the Baba Vishwanath temple, trained him.

There have been many shehnai players before him and many since, but Bismillah Khan brought unprecedented honour, respect, prestige and popularity to the shehnai. Historically, shehnai players generally played lighter forms of music, like kajri, chaitee, thumri and dadra in the Benares style. But Bismillah Khan played ragas on his instrument, along with lighter pieces. It is essential to learn the grammar of music to be able to meld your music with poetry.

Bismillah Khan had so much colour in his music. This part completely lies in an artist's DNA as there may be many musicians who are knowledgeable learned vidwans and ustads but very few have colour and imagination in their music. He was the quintessential showman even in the twilight of his life. He knew what the audience craved and he made it happen.

He knew the effect his subtle nuances, his technique and mastery of stagecraft had on the listener, which for any performer is most essential.

Bismillah Khan Sahab was fortunate to have interacted with some of the greatest vocalists, including Faiyaz Khan Sahab and Abdul Karim Khan Sahab, as well as the women singers of Benaras——Badi Moti Bai, Vidyadhari Devi, Siddheshwari Devi, Rasoolan Bai and Begum Akhtar. In his shehnai, one could see glimpses of all the great vocalists of India. In his younger days, he was a firebrand musician. He was the first shehnai player ever to be offered a microphone.

He first brought the shehnai to centre stage on the concert platform at the All India Music Conference in Calcutta in 1937, and went on to regale audiences all over India at prestigious music conferences and gatherings for the next seven decades. In 1947 Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru invited him to perform at the Red Fort on the occasion of India's first Independence Day. He performed there again in 1950 on the occasion of India's first Republic Day celebration.

The way in which Bismillah Khan extended the technical range of his instrument, which was played previously only on auspicious occasions, needs no elaboration. It was his sheer love for the instrument that made him strive so hard to improvise intricate but dazzling patterns which were earlier thought to be beyond the range of the shehnai. He thus transposed what was mainly a temple instrument on to the concert platform.

Bismillah Khan Sahab addressed my father as Chacha Sahab (uncle). He was friends with my eldest brother, Mubarak Ali Khan; they were the same age. He was always kind and affectionate towards me. I had been receiving invitations to music festivals from the age of twelve, and had the privilege of meeting all the great musicians of the time, including Bismillah Khan Sahab.

Once, I was asked to perform at a music festival in Varanasi organized by Pandit Ravi Shankar. That day I was concluding the session. The first performance was by Birju Maharaj and Zakir Hussain, followed by Bhimsen Joshi. To be the concluding act after so many brilliant performances by musicians and dancers was an honour for me, but, at the same time, immensely challenging, taxing and risky.

At 3 a.m., accompanied by Pandit Samta Prasad alias Gudai Maharaj on the tabla, I went on the stage. I could see several great musicians in the audience, including Bismillah Khan Sahab, and as a mark of respect, took ijaazat (formal permission) from all of them. I began the concert with my own composition, Raga Lalita Dhwani. The concert ended at 7 a.m.

Many years later, in 1989, when we honoured Bismillah Khan Sahab in Chennai with the Haafiz Ali Khan Award, Khan Sahab lavishly praised my Varanasi concert in his acceptance speech. During my concert, he said, he had wanted to go out for his morning namaaz but he was deeply moved by
some portions of my concert and felt a strong connection with God.

‘Sangeet bhi toh ibadat hai,’ he had told himself and stayed back. For an artist, this transcends any award. At the same function, when he was awarded along with M.S.Subbulaksehmi, he mentioned on a lighter note that when a singer is singing, their mouth is busy and hands are free, and when an instrumentalist is performing, their hands are busy but the mouth is free. But in his case, when he played the shehnai, his hands and mouth are both busy!

(From Master An Masters, by Amjad Ali Khan, Publisher: Penguin, `499)