Postcards from the Past: Renowned vocalist Arati Ankalikar Tikekar recalls Pune’s glorious musical era

The voice behind the haunting ‘Ghir Ghir Aayi’ in Sardari Begum and hundreds of songs on stage and screen, Ankalikar now lives in Pune’s Aundh, surrounded by art and serenity. A photograph of her guru Kishori Amonkar looks upon the drawing room. This is the city that Ankalikar made her home when she moved from Mumbai to teach at Pune University in the 1980s though the vocalist had been visiting the place since her childhood.

Home to maestros

The singer, 60, remembers a time when every lane in Pune had a music school. Stalwarts of Indian classical music — Hirābai Barodekar, Vasantrao Deshpande, Bhimsen Joshi and Veena Sahasrabuddhe among others – lived in Pune. “Later, many artists settled in Pune because this was the best place for cultural get-togethers,” she says.

The 1980s to the 2000s were a time when the city was green and people had time to sit on the ground for more than three hours and listen to a maestro. “This says a lot about their health and peace of mind,” says Ankalikar. Mehfils, held at small halls such as Gandharva Mahavidyalaya and Laxmi Krida Mandir, were beautiful experiences that have been replaced by modern open-air concerts that draw thousands of people, who cannot see the face of the artist and the latter cannot make eye contact with the audience. “Every peth had its own classical music organisation,” she says.

Artists could also perform as they wanted, which made concerts phenomenal. In the 1980s, for instance, Laxmi Krida Mandir hosted a concert of Amonkar on the evening of August 14 and then again in the morning and evening on August 15, all organised by the same person. “It was jam-packed. It was an audience of jaankars, who knew the ragas, the language of music and what Amonkar wanted to convey, which made the whole concert magical,” Ankalikar recalls.

Music in the house

From a decade before, Ankalikar remembers attending an open-air show of Pt Bhimsen Joshi under a shamiana on a hot summer day. The master vocalist sent out the first note — “Sa” — and Ankalikar had tears coming out of her eyes. “It was amazing because that ‘Sa’ had so much emotion. His soul, body and mind came together in that single note,” she says.

Ankalikar’s major performance was at a home, attended by P L Deshpande, Hirābai Barodekar and Vasantrao Deshpande, among others. “Those days, we used to have a lot of home concerts. People with big houses, bigger hearts and a love for culture would have classical music concerts in their homes. It was a cosy experience, with only about two feet between the lovers of music and the performer,” she says. For her, it was a “great opportunity to show off my talent”. After the performance, Ankalikar ‘s father heard Hirabai tell somebody, “Is ladki ki nazar badi achhi hai (This girl’s musical vision is very good).”

“Pune has given me a lot in terms of love, opportunities and encouragement,” she says. The musical environment began to change around the 2000s, with organisers beginning to discourage concerts on Sundays when the television showed a film in the evenings. The nature of the audience also changed. For young people, life began to demand excellence at various levels and art, suddenly, became unviable as a career.

“Going forward, what I wish is that small mehfils, where they have 200-300 people, come back, with youngsters performing Indian classical music. I want to see genuine musical activity and good musicians coming up,” she says. “Some private people who love classical music can help. Not only as a music lover, but as an Indian, I feel that we need to preserve this tradition because there is nothing like our classical music anywhere in the world,” says Ankalikar.