Opinion Kumar Gandharva’s birth centenary: His radical music offered a modern vision of Bhakti poetry

Born in Belgaum and trained in Bombay, Kumar Gandharva moved to Dewas after getting infected with tuberculosis and lived there for the rest of his life. He became one of the dissident quartet of Madhya Pradesh, the others being Gajanan Madhav Muktibodh, Sayed Haider Raza and Habib Tanvir. Each of the four, rooted in the home and hearth of the Central Provinces, pursued and asserted an alternative modernity in music, literature, painting and theatre.

Kumar Gandharva’s music reflects life in its many hues and shades — nature, seasons, festivals, places — wide in range, intense in depth. Apart from creating great music, articulating a unique aesthetic vision, a questioning and exploring mind, Kumar Gandharva’s discovery of the organic and vital links between the folk and the classical radically changed the perception of folk music. He remains perhaps the only classical musician who presented whole concerts singing folk music, especially of Malwa, giving it both dignity and equal status.

He also brought into the classical repertoire the vast and rich Bhakti poetry, especially of Tulsidas, Surdas, Meera and, most importantly, Kabir. He not only sang their verses soulfully, he also gave each one a unique musical idiom and identity. Many called him the Kabir of our times, following his musical explorations of Kabir compositions!

Besides being a performer par excellence, Kumar Gandharva, through his private and public conversation and occasional writings, tried to evolve a new aesthetic of music for our times. He insisted that no raag has an inherent meaning or emotion; the meaning and emotion in a raag are created by the musician, according to him. The raag, he said, is bare and naked and is clothed by the musician. He was very critical of gharanas of music and felt they lacked creativity and imagination. He believed that music must have space within itself for self-criticality. Music is not merely a celebration but also reflection. He thought music must provide for the unexpected and the unanticipated. It should reveal the mystery of life as also its wonder. He claimed that he was the practitioner of the most ephemeral of the arts, for music disappears almost the moment it appears. “The Kumar Gandharva who sang Tilak Kamod is dead and so is the Tilak Kamod. Kumar would sing Tilak Kamod again but it would be a different Kumar Gandharva and an equally different Tilak Kamod,” he once said. Since he lost one lung to TB and spent most of his life with one functioning lung, his life was spent, and his music grew, in the shadow of death. But his zest for life and discovering unacknowledged locations, places, events and aspects of nature invigorated his music to become a ceaseless but reflective celebration both of life and music itself.

He composed new raags such as Lagan Gandhar, Malavati, Ahimohini, Malav Bihag, Gandhi Malhar, and numerous bandishes to embody his experience and vision. He faced severe criticism and disapproval from his contemporaries and critics about his views and practice of music. He remained steadfast in his pursuit. Perhaps the truth Kumarji was seeking was neither tranquil nor comforting; it was burning and ablaze. Like the Greek mythical figure Icarus, he flew to touch the sun and got his wings burnt. It was a very daring act of courage and its failure in no way diminishes its uplifting intent, its ennobling daring.

Some decades ago, Raghav Menon, a well-regarded music critic, was emboldened to claim that the history of Hindustani classical music can now be seen in two phases — before Kumar Gandharva and after Kumar Gandharva! Be that as it may, as his birth centenary begins, it is time to gratefully recall the musical genius and the creative colossus he was. His radical contribution cannot be overstated or forgotten.

The writer is a Hindi poet