Showing posts with label Gwalior Gharana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gwalior Gharana. Show all posts

Sunday, 15 October 2017

Krishnarao Shankar Pandit (1893-1989) - A Broadcast from All India Radio (AIR) with Raga Yaman Kalyan, Raga Paraj & Bhairavi Tappa


Here our last post - at least for now - of the great Krishnarao Shankar Pandit. We received these recordings many years ago, if I remember correctly, from the collector VN in UK. Our friend KF made a CD out of them and created a cover. Many thanks to both.



Addition on October 27th 2017
Here a beautiful story about the artist:
In late January 1970, at the concert hall Rabindra Sadan in Kolkata, Panditji’s program was scheduled one early evening. Supravat Da and I went to the concert hall with our tape recorder to record Panditji’s program. Both of us were not familiar with Panditji’s singing, although we knew that he was one of the great singers of Gwalior Gharana. We had an uneasy feeling that the organizers might not allow us to record the program. It exactly happened that way. The organizers bluntly told us that recording was not allowed. Suddenly I saw Panditji on the back stage and I approached him. After initial greetings, I told him that I would like to record his program but I was not successful in receiving permission to do so from the organizers. Panditji was an older dignified person of seventy-eight, very accommodating and very easy to talk to. He immediately got me the permission to record his program.
I learnt that Panditji arrived at four in the afternoon by train from Gwalior and from the Railway station he went to visit Pandit Tarapada Chakraborty who had been hospitalized. This was a news for us. Panditji was living in Gwalior, knew that Tarapada Babu was ill, and we, the people of Kolkata, had absolutely no information about it.
It is impossible to describe Panditji’s singing. It was unique. His style of singing had no similarity with any other singers I knew of and I do not know if any singer could successfully imitate him. I was fascinated by his control and precision. I was simply overwhelmed. Even today, his Shree, Chaturang in Dabari and many other ragas are among my very favorite.
After the program I met Panditji and before I could say anything, he told me to come to his concert at Birla Academy, which was taking place the next morning. The next morning I passed some time with Panditji before the concert and requested him to sing a few morning ragas of my choice. He sang all the ragas I requested except Paraj; for that one, he said the timing was not right.
Panditji had no idea who I was, what my name was but he was kind and generous enough to invite me to his morning concert and kept my request.
Pt. Krishnarao Shankar Pandit was a great singer, a legend and above all a great human being.
In a private concert of Zia Mohiuddin Dagar in New York in 1980, during the intermission, Dagar Saheb, Sheila Dhar and I were talking. I wanted to know Dagar Saheb’s view of Pt. Krishnarao Shankar Pandit. I am always careful not to praise one musician in front of other musicians. I told Dagar Saheb that one vocalist impressed me very much. After he learnt that I was talking about Krishnarao Shankar Pandit, he was surprised at first then asked me, “Chowdhury saab tell me, who can sing like Pandji?” After superlative compliments about Panditji’s music he told me, “ In a concert if he sings whole night, I will also remain there whole night to listen to him.”

from the outstanding YouTube channel by Subrata Chowdhury (may he rest in peace):

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Krishnarao Shankar Pandit (1893-1989) - LP published in 1970 in India & some shorter AIR recordings


Here we post the only LP - to our knowledge - released during the lifetime of the artist. I don't have this LP and I even never saw it in the shops, not even in the 1970s. Our friend KF has it and made many years ago this CD out of it, adding some shorter recordings from AIR broadcasts and one from a compilation on LP. He also created the covers. Many thanks to him.
In 1992 another LP (PMLP 3080) was published with recordings from the archives from AIR, which unfortunately we also don't have.



Saturday, 7 October 2017

Krishnarao Shankar Pandit (1893-1989) - Darbari Kanada & Basant - Broadcasted by All India Radio


Here we offer - as promised in our last post - a recording by the fascinating Pandit Krishnarao Shankar Pandit from Raagam, an internet channel of All India Radio. This channel offers 24 hours a day, seven days a week recordings of classical Indian music from the archives of All India Radio.


Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Krishnarao Shankar Pandit (1893-1989) - A great singer of the Gwalior Gharana - Ragas Multani, Bhupali & Malgunji


Here we present one of the greatest singers of the 20th century, a representative of the original Gwalior Gharana, at the same time an artist with a very personal style, more a musician's musician than a singer popular amongst the general public.
A very funny thing: while I'm preparing this post and writing these lines there is playing a program by our artist on Raagam, the internet radio of All India Radio. I'm recording it and will post it very soon too.
The recordings we present here are probably also from All India Radio. Our friend KF shared them with us on a CD, with a nice cover created by him. Many thanks to him.




The virtuoso: Krishnarao Pandit
Krishnarao Pandit is the doyen of the Gwalior gharana. An artiste who has enchanted audiences with his ingenious singing style in a concert career that spanned 70 years.
Mohan Nadkarni pays tribute to the stalwart of Hindustani music, who turned 93 on June 26.
Krishnaraoji was a maestro of whom it could be truly said that his music was eloquently reflective of his personality. Indeed, the singing showed to full advantage the many facets of his individual style. Basically it was a rare blend of ingenuity and craftsmanship – the result of long, arduous deliberation.
Gwalior. The very name conjures up a variety of images – of historical splendour, architectural magnificence, a great musical heritage and, of course, the vestiges of royalty, in whose heyday the art and culture of north India reached its high degree of efflorescence.
But to Krishnarao Shankar Pandit, who turned 93 on July 26, Gwalior has been his karmabhoomi. As it has been for his forbears for three generations. And something more, too. To Panditji, Gwalior remains India’s musical capital. Simply mention the name and the maestro will hold you spellbound with an inspiring account of Gwalior’s dedication to Hindustani music, of the efforts of its successive princes, as much as their subjects, to carry forward the classical tradition of north India.
He will tell you how music has been part of every home in Gwalior, quoting a popular saying that when a child from Gwalior cries, it cries in tune. He would declaim, in his profound, stentorian voice, that even in the changed context of today, an average Gwaliori can easily distinguish one raga from another, whatever his status.
Krishnarao Shankar Pandit happens to be one of the very few professional musicians whose life and career is marked by an extraordinary series of lucky breaks. His father, Shankarrao Pandit, whom he describes as the first professional musician in his orthodox Brahmin family, was a disciple of Haddu Khan and Natthu Khan, who were among the pioneers of the Gwalior gharana. Later, Shankarrao underwent rigorous grooming in khayal, tarana, tappa, thumri and ashtapadi and such other styles of classical singing for 12 years under the tutelage of Nissar Hussein Khan, son of Natthu Khan, who was also another leading light of the gharana.
Krishnaraoji had his initiation into music from his father at the age of six. At 11, he made his first public appearance on the concert platform in Bombay to lend sangat to his distinguished father and guru. He was only 20 when the erstwhile prince of Satara, in Maharashtra, commissioned him to teach him classical music. But he left this coveted assignment within a year to return to Gwalior.
In 1914, Krishnaraoji established a music school. In between came the sudden and premature death of his father. That was how Krishnaraoji named his new institution Shankar Sangeet Vidyalaya after his father. The Vidyalaya, in the course of 62 years of its existence, has come to be regarded as one of the pioneering music teaching institutions in the country.
Behind the setting up of a modern-style academic institution by one groomed in the age old guru-shishya-parampara is Panditji’s awareness of the changing times. He also drew up a curriculum for teaching music to his students, engaged a team of teachers and authored a series of text-books dealing with vocal music and also instruments like the harmonium, the sitar, the jaltarang and the tabla.
But he did not neglect his role as a concert musician. In fact, his early rise to fame as one of the leading Hindustani vocalists of the country, the acclaim he enjoyed in the field for almost 70 years and, finally, the patronage he earned from the Gwalior darbar and several other ruling princes from different parts of the country, is a tribute to his exceptional qualities as a musician as much as his personal dynamism.
In the post-independence period, too, public appreciation for Panditji was abundant. He was on of the early recipients of the President’s Award for Hindustani vocal music, way back in 1959. He was honoured with the Padma Bhushan in 1973. India’s only chartered music university, the Indira Kala Sangeet Vishwa Vidyalaya at Khairagarh, in Madhya Pradesh, conferred upon him an honorary doctorate in 1962. A regular broadcaster since 1940, he has been Producer-Emeritus of AIR and Doordarshan.
In recent years, the government of the reorganized Madhya Pradesh has honoured its own stalwart with a number of state awards from time to time. Although Bharat Bhavan, the prestigious arts complex in Bhopal organized a three-day special musical event to felicitate him in November last year, the highest award for classical music, Kalidas Samman, instituted by the state government in 1982, has yet to come his way.
My early familiarity with Panditji music was through the radio, as is probably the case with most music lovers. As a teenage radio buff, I seldom missed his broadcasts or disc music from AIR Delhi. It was much later – in 1949 – that I had a chance to hear him at a regular concert sponsored by a music circle in Bombay.
Nearly six feet tall, lanky and dressed in his usual long coat, dhoti and embroidered cap, Krishnaraoji looked every inch an orthodox, aristocratic, Brahmin, with a stern, slightly forbidding visage that sported a well-groomed moustache. Erect as a walking-stick, he took his seat on the stage in an austere yogic posture and started off his recital without even the customary preliminary tonal flourishes. The effect was electrifying. The three-hour concert, at which Ram Narain and Alla Rakha lent instrumental support on the sarangi and the tabla respectively came to me as a treat.
Here, indeed, I felt, was a maestro of whom it could be truly said that his music was eloquently reflective of his personality. Indeed, the singing showed to full advantage the many facets of his individual style. Basically, it was a rare blend of ingenuity and craftsmanship – the result of long, arduous deliberation. He was endowed with a loud musical voice and his mode of articulation was massive. His taal and laya were incisive. Be it khayal, tappa, thumri, hori and ashtapadi, he could depict them with practised ease and originality.
The last time I heard the maestro was in December 1972, when he came down to Bombay from Gwalior, to attend the 6oth birthday celebrations of Sharadchandra Arolkar who is possibly his senior most disciple. Arolkar, incidentally, is not only a maestro in his own right, but also a musician’s musician. But he is reclusive by temperament and has chosen to remain away from the concert platform. The appearance of the 79-year-old guru and his equally fast-ageing shisya on a common platform was truly symbolic of the guru-shishya parampara, of a hallowed but rapidly vanishing tradition. The spectacle was at once ennobling and moving.
What is more, Krishnaraoji, though well past his prime, offered to provide the finale to the nightlong programme. In the small hours, he reeled off vilambit, drut and tarana numbers in the raga lalit, followed by lilting jogia-mand composition and a thumri and tarana in bhairavi to round it off.
It was disconcertingly evident from this concert that old age had begun to take its toll on his performing abilities. Understandably, one sensed more physical vigour than musical expression in his effort. Even so, we had many glimpses of his undoubted musicianship, showing us how rigorous discipline could well score over age.
Besides Arolkar, Krishnaraoji has groomed a large number of disciples. They include his four sons, Narayan, Laxman, Chandrakant and Sadashiv and his grand-children. Among his other disciples are Vishnupant Choudhari, the Saptarshi brothers, Dattatraya Joglekar, Keshavrao Surange, Amritphale Sarolkar, to name a few. Ironically, almost all of them have branched out as erudite teachers and not as concert artistes. All that can be said about them is that they are carrying on the parampara according to their lights. Inevitably, the Gwalior gharana, acknowledged as the forerunner of all other Hindustani khayal gharanas is on the verge of total oblivion and Krishnarao Shankar Pandit is the oldest surviving representative of the old parampara.
Panditji’s approach to traditional music was a matter of controversy when he was active on the concert stage. He had as many critics as he had votaries. As one who has been singularly lucky in having savoured the music of three generations of top exponents of different gharanas, the controversy to my mind, boils down to the question whether classical music is intellectual or emotional. In other words, it is the never-ending tussle between what is known as classicism and romanticism.
What I have said many times before bears repetition in this evaluation of Panditji’s music. I firmly believe that music (as, indeed, any other art), specially classical music is of two types. It can be purely intellectual or classicist, or purely emotional or romantic. In rare cases, it can be an uncanny blend of both.
In saying this, I nostalgically recall the kind of great music I have heard in all its variety, depth and range over the last four decades and more. Most of the old maestros, who passed into oblivion long ago, were, in my opinion, exponents of intellectual music. By and large, there was more of cerebral skill and physical ability that inspired them to create marvels of sculptured sound. Every note, every phrase, every pattern, as also the rhythmic felicities which went to vivify their chosen theme, provided unimpeachable proof of their life-long dedication and discipline. Against this background, the music of Krishnaraoji, the long survivor of the old guard can be fairly summed up as intellectual in its content and approach. Therefore, its appeal has always been cerebral, but fulfilling.
Needless to say, this kind of music can no longer command popular appeal in the present era of innovation, experimentation and the avant garde. True enough, the conflict between classicism and romanticism has acquired a new and sharper edge in the wake of the emergence of luminaries like Kumar Gandharva and Kishori Amonkar. But this hardly justifies the kind of criticism against the old classicist approach advocated by Krishnaraoji and his departed contemporaries.
And the pity of it is that it comes from cognoscenti of the present generation, who could never have heard the old masters, and can only evaluate them on the basis of recordings which, in most cases, were done when the maestros were long past their prime.
from: http://www.mohannadkarni.org/virtuoso-pandit-krishnarao-pandit/

“ALL OUR GREAT MASTERS HAVE GONE”
Mohan Nadkarni recalls conversations with the maestro. 
The aggressive – looking Panditji is altogether a different man when encountered off-stage. During one of his visits of Bombay, I also had the privilege of playing host to him. Here are excerpts from a series of conversations I had had with Panditji during my meetings with him in Bombay, Delhi and Bhopal.
Q. Panditji, you have often said that the khayal gayaki of Gwalior is the forerunner of several other gharanas which came into prominence during the last 200 years or so. You have also emphasized that none of the later styles has the character of the Gwalior vocalism. Will you please elaborate?
A. Only my gharana can rightly claim to be ashtanga-pradhan in its character. The word means that the style has eightfold musical virtues. These are alap, bol-alap, bol-taan, varieties of taan and layakari, meend, gamak and murki. It is an intricate, complex style, although exponents of other gharanas call it simple, often rudimentary. It might sound simple because it naturally pleases the ear. But it also baffles the mind of een a top veteran, you see. Khayal is presented in two tiers, that is, in slow tempo followed by a faster one. But I find that most exponents of your gharana render their vilambit (slow) composition to medium tempo (Madhya laya). How come? Khayal, as you know well, is a song-form, a composition. If it is rendered in too slow a tempo, it is bound to lose its significance and meaning. The song-text would be deprived of its character.
Q. How then, can you hope to achieve that homogeneous fusion of shabda (words), dhun (tune) and theka (rhythm), which together constitute the hallmark of the gharana? How have you contributed to the enrichment of the gharana’s vocalism?
A. I have tried to lend a greater degree of tayyari (virtuosity) to the traditional style. I have also made an effort to blend several new variations of bol-taan in the general scheme of improvisation. Panditji, you have enjoyed pre-eminence as an exponent of khayal music. But you have also specialized in tappa and thumri styles. These are very different singing genres and have almost gone out of vogue.
Q. Your tappa, specially, sounds different from the Varanasi variety.
A. Yes, the difference is certainly there. Our tappa is khayal-oriented, while the Varanasi type is thumri-oriented. Our repertoire, besides, includes varieties like chaturang, hori, trivet and ashtapadi – all of which form part of the rich treasure of my gharana.
Q. What are the attributes of a good musician? To be a good vocalist, he must first cultivate his voice.
A. He should also have the gift of talent and imagination, coupled with enormous listening power. Above all, he has to pursue his art in the true spirit of a seeker and never deflect from his daily practice.
Q. How do you view the contemporary music scene? Was the older generation of musicians better than the present one? If so, how?
A. We now live in a fast-moving world in which the degree of understanding and appreciation of classical music is getting less and less with each succeeding generation. Our old values are also undergoing a radical change in all walks of life. All our great masters have gone and no new generation of stalwarts has emerged to fill the vacuum. Exceptions are there like Bhimsen Joshi, Gangubai Hangal and others. But they are very few. Don’t you reckon tremendously popular artistes like Kumar Gandharva, Kishori Amonkar and Jasraj? They are good, no doubt. But in the name of changing old concepts and values, they seem to be indulging in innovations and experiments. As a purist, I cannot but view these trends as gravely detrimental to the very survival of the classical tradition.
from: http://www.mohannadkarni.org/virtuoso-pandit-krishnarao-pandit/

Fotos and tree from: http://www.meetapandit.com

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

D.V. Paluskar (1921-1955) - Great Master, Great Music - LP published in India in 1971


Here another beautiful LP by the great artist. This one was amongst the very first vocal recordings I obtained and was for a long time one of my favorites and still is. I bought it mid 1970s in London or Southall on my first or second shopping trip to the Indian record shops there.





Monday, 11 September 2017

D.V. Paluskar (1921-1955) - Morning Melodies - An All India Radio Release - LP published in India in 1988


D.V. Paluskar (1921-1955) was one of the greatest and most popular singers of the Gwalior Gharana in mid 20th century. He passed away quite young.
On the artist see:





There are quite a number of CDs by the artist: two by Akashvani from the archives of All India Radio, a series of five CDs by Meera Music and a couple of others. As always, they can be obtained from info@raga-maqam-dastgah.com

Friday, 5 August 2016

Vinayakrao Patwardhan (1898-1975) - In Memoriam - LP published in India in 1976






Last year we posted already on his 40th anniversary recordings by the artist from a private collection here and here. In 2011 we had posted a set of two cassettes Echoes from the Glorious Past with one track by the artist.

Sunday, 23 August 2015

Vinayakrao Patwardhan (22 July 1898 – 23 August 1975) - 40th anniversary of his death


Today is the 40th anniversary of the death of the great singer of the Gwalior Gharana, Pandit Vinayakrao Patwardhan (22 July 1898 – 23 August 1975). We take this opportunity to remind of this almost forgotten great singer. We had posted in 2011 one shorter recording by him. See: 







Many thanks to KF for the recordings and the nice covers and booklet.
It seems that, at least the first part, is from a radio broadcast the day after his passing. 

VINAYAKRAO PATWARDHAN: FAMOUS MUSICIAN & DEDICATED MISSIONARY-- by P.C. Jayaraman and S. Janaki

[The year 1998 was host to the birth centenaries of many stalwarts of music. Among them was that of Hindustani vocalist Pandit Vinayakrao Patwardhan. The following commemorative article was written by Senior Editor P. C. JAYARAMAN with Deputy Editor S. JANAKI. The authors are indebted to the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya in New Delhi for making available source materials and photographs. Its former Principal, the late Vinaychandra Maudgalya, was a disciple of Vinayakrao Parwardhan.]
Vinayakrao Patwardhan was a well-known figure of his times with a multifaceted personality. An illustrious disciple of the legendary Vishnu Digambar Paluskar who devoted his life to the promotion of Hindustani music, and a gurubhai of such eminences as Prof. B.R. Deodhar, Narayanrao Vyas and Omkarnath Thakur, he had a very successful singing career. For about 52 years (from 1923 to 1975), he was one of the famous musicians in the Hindustani music concert arena. He was successful also as an actor-singer in Marathi theatre where he partnered the renowned Narayanrao Rajhans. He also contributed significantly to the teaching of music, as a member of the faculty of music schools and a private teacher of a horde of students. Furthermore, a music missionary like his great guru, he also authored books on music. Last but not least, he was an able administrator and a man of culture.
Early life
Vinayakrao was born in Miraj, in what is now Maharashtra, on 22 July 1898 in a well-to-do, middle class family of Dasagranthi Maharashtrian brahmins. He was named Vinayak because he was born on Ganesh Chaturthi day.
Vinayakrao's mother passed away in 1902 and he lost his father, Narayanrao, as well a few months later. His paternal uncle took on the responsibility of bringing him up. Theirs was a joint family which was characterised by religious faith, simplicity and discipline. Vinayakrao imbibed these qualities in full easure and retained them till the end.
Music, however, was not part of the family heritage, although two of his paternal uncles were musicians. One of the uncles, Gurudev Patwardhan, was a pakhawaj player and taught percussion - playing at a school established by Vishnu Digambar. The other, Keshavrao Patwardhan, a disciple of Balakrishnabuwa Ichalkaranjikar, taught music at the Ganesh Sangeet Vidyalaya. It was in this school that Vinayakrao started learning music in the year 1905.
It was Vinayakrao's good fortune that, about this time, Vishnu Digambar Paluskar was scouting for musically inclined youngsters, who could later help him in his chosen mission of propagating music. His eyes fell on Vinayakrao with whose family he was acquainted. Further, the Patwardhan family was only too happy to send Vinayakrao away from Miraj, which was often scourged by epidemics.
By another stroke of luck, the ruler of Miraj, Gangadhar Pant Patwardhan, aka Balasaheb Mirajkar, came forward with an offer to pay a stipend of 16 rupees a month to enable Vinayakrao to study at the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya in Lahore.
The programme offered by the vidyalaya was divided into two parts: the first was the Sangeet Pravesika course (four years) and the second, the Sangeet Praveen course (five years). While the academy naturally placed emphasis on musical training and presentation, it attached importance also to the all-round development of each student's personality, physical health, personal hygiene, dress and good conduct.
Vinayakrao studied at the Lahore institution only for a year or so - till August 1908. For, when Paluskar established another branch of the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya in Bombay in September that year, he brought the lad from Miraj with him to the Gateway City. It was in the Bombay saakha or branch of the Mahavidyalaya that Vinayakrao further pursued the academy's programme of studies. He completed the Sangeet Pravesika course in 1911 and continued on till 1914.
During these six years, Paluskar often personally taught Vinayakrao and some of the other disciples, between 10 o'clock and midnight, how to sing alap, taan and boltaan properly. Once, when Paluskar developed acute pain in the eyes, Vinayakrao stayed up all night giving warm fomentation treatment to his guru's eyes. While this provided much relief to the guru, there was a bonus dividend for the dedicated disciple: he got the exclusive chance to learn a bandish _Ya bana byahan aayaa_ in Devagiri Bilaval!
During his study at the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya in Bombay, apart from learning and teaching music to junior students, Vinayakrao was also assigned various tasks. He had to assist in the maintenance of the school building and the garden and the work of the press division; play the cashier's role; and also assist Sankarrao Vyas in the co-operative store. This experience helped him later in the discharge of administrative responsibilities.
Vinayakrao obtained the Sangeet Praveen diploma only in 1919, almost 12 years after his enrolment as a student of the institution in Lahore. The reason given is that the ruler of Miraj had stipulated, while agreeing to give him the stipend to study at the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya, that the lad should return to Miraj in 1914 and spend the next three years honing his musical skills. And Vinayakrao had to fulfil this part of the agreement. Paluskar wanted him to utilise this period to polish, with the guidance of Balakrishnabuwa Ichalkaranjikar (1849-1927), the bandishes he had already learnt and also write them down in notation. While he did all this, Vinayakrao strengthened his wings further by giving recitals before the ruler of Miraj, who continued to show interest in the progess being made by his protege, as well as at temple festivals. In 1917, he resumed his studies for the Praveen diploma in Bombay and completed the same two years later.
The time he spent with Ichalkaranjikar was indeed most fruit- ful. From this master, he learnt many rare bandishes of the Gwalior gharana, in raga-s like MaIgunji, Gunji Kanada, Malav, Samant Kalyan, Gandhari, Devagandhari, etc. Altogether he learned some 150 cheej-s from him. He also played the tambura in the master's concerts and this opened up another window of opportunity - to learn by observation. He was lucky to have the personal guidance of Ichalkaranjikar for six years, but he kept in touch with him even later.
While he was in Miraj, Vinayakrao had the opportunity also to listen to the music of Rahmat Khan, the court singer in the tiny princely state of Kurundavad which was quite close to his home town. He was particularly impressed by this maestro's style of rendering the tarana and learnt several tarana-s from him. Luckily he was also called upon to play the tambura in several of Khan Saheb's concerts and this afforded him a fine chance to learn many nuances through observation.
Rahmat Khan (1852-1922), an exponent of the Gwalior gharana, extolled as Bhugandharva, was known for the use of the words dil-dil in adroit ways while singing tarana-s. Vinayakrao changed the words to dir-dir when he sang the tarana-s. He came to be regarded in time as a master tarana-singer.
Another musician who had an impact on Vinayakrao's musical development was Bhaskarbua Bakhle, whose greatness lay in the fact he had assimilated three streams of musical tradition and developed an attractive style of his own. The youngster is reported to have attended as many as 200 of Bhakle's performances and also played the tambura for him in many of them. Through keen observation he noted and absorbed many lessons, such as the desirability of projecting a pleasant countenance on stage and encouraging his sidemen, as well as the importance of the proper placement of swara-s in each raga.
Vinayakrao himself stated later in his life that he learnt the art and nuances of concert-singing from his guru Vishnu Digambar and the art of pleasing the rasika and creating the right ambience in classical music concerts by observing him, as well as Rahmat Khan, and Balakrishnabuwa over a period of 8 to 12 years, as he played the tambura for their recitals.
Vishnu Digambar Paluskar (1872-1931) was a great and unique figure in Hindustani music. He was totally devoted to Hindustani classical music and its propagation. His aim was to bring it to the common man. He also worked to elevate the status of musicians. For these reasons, he bent his efforts to implement a plan to transform music into a well-loved and respected art; to establish music schools in which knowledge would be transmitted without holding anything back; and pick up children and train them to be musicians and music teachers with character. Accordingly, he picked select students of the Vidyalaya who he believed had the aptitude and the potential to become musical missionaries. They had to be students in residence for seven to nine years who had received intensive training in music. They had also to be qualified to assist in teaching junior students. Vinayakrao Patwardhan fitted into this scheme nicely and therefore, without any hesitation, Paluskar recruited him to serve the mission of propagating Hindustani music, along with others like Govindrao Desai, Baburao Gokhale, N.M. Khare, Vamanrao Padhye, Sankarrao Pathak, Omkarnath Thakur, Narayanrao Vyas and Sankarrao Vyas. These handpicked students, serving later as music missionaries, helped in the growth of a number of kaanrasiya-s or rasika-s through the movement spearheaded by Vishnu Digambar, which was also called the Vishnu Digambar Sangeet Andolan.
Vinayakrao's gracious manners and his devoted service to Paluskar led his classmates to call him endearingly as 'Nit namo', which was actually the first words of a famous bandish.
More than a decade later, in 1932 to be exact, Vinayakrao started learning music from Ramakrishnabuwa Vaze as a gandabandha (formal) disciple. According to B.R. Deodhar [Pillars of Hindustani Music], Vaze (1871-1945), an accomplished musician, was unassuming and generous and completely free from jealousy or hate. Yet he would avoid teaching the numerous raga-s and bandishes he knew, even after insisting would-be learners should become his gandabandha disciples first, saying they were not good enough to learn them. To quote Deodhar again: "Occasionally, when he happened to be in a generous frame of mind, he would part with some of his learning but the generous mood was usually short-lived, and his original secretiveness would rear its head."
It was when Ramakrishnabuwa, during one of his concerts, said he did not know anyone who was worthy enough to share his secret hoard, that Vinayakrao vowed to himself he would crack the safe, as it were, by becoming an accredited apprentice of the maestro. But he laid down terms too. He insisted that the gandabandha ceremony should be a quiet affair; with Vazebuwa agreeing to this condition, it was performed in the premises of the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya. At the concert after the ceremony, Vinayakrao refused to sit with the tambura behind his new guru; instead he sat with the audience and listened to him. Furthermore, Vazebuwa had to come to the Vidyalaya to teach Vinayakrao. Although the arrangement did not last too long, Vinayakrao did manage to learn raga-s like Malativasant, Bhankar, Bhatiyar, Khat, Nand, Desi and Jayant Malhar from Ramakrishnabuwa Vaze. This itself was a feat, compared to achievements of other talented musicians with a similar ambition. Apparently, only two - Haribhau Ghangrekar who was with Vaze for many years, and the master's own son Shivrambuwa - really managed to learn many bandishes from this generous miser.
Though essentially a vocalist, Vinayakrao also learnt to play the harmonium, the tabla, the jalatarang, the taar-shehnai, the sitar And the violin. He had acquired, too, some familiarity with the basics of Kathak, the dance-form. He had also picked up the rudiments of composing and printing as he and some of the other disciples of Vishnu Digambar were involved in the printing of books on music. (Between 1917 and 1922 Vinayakrao helped his guru publish the magazine Sangeetaamritpravaha).
Teacher
Vinayakrao Patwardhan excelled not only as a student but also as a teacher. His stint as a student at the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya had itself provided him - after he had completed the Pravesika course - with opportunities of teaching the junior students. After this and on his return to Miraj, at the young age of 16, he became a teacher at his old alma mater, the Ganesh Sangeet Vidyalaya. He brought to it the experience gained by him in Gandharva Mahavidyalaya and laid emphasis on strict discipline, concentrated study, proper syllabi for the courses, use of text books on music theory, writing music in notation and a system for examinations - all modelled on what prevailed in Gandharva Mahavidyalaya. Not surprisingly, the school attracted many youngsters, among them one who would later become very renowned, Prof. B.R. Deodhar.
In April 1921, Patwardhan joined the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya in Nagpur as its Principal on a salary of 60 rupees a month, with an allowance of 16 rupees for food. This post he held till May 1922. He was very popular in the institution where he was known as Buasaheb. He also taught music to children of well-to-do barrister families. But the vidyalaya was facing financial difficulties, with large outstanding debts incurred for meeting the cost of constructing a new building. Paluskar issued orders that the teachers should retain only 30 rupees from their pay and donate the balance for the upkeep of the school. The teachers, many of them now married, found it very difficult to manage with just 30 rupees a month. This was the time between the demise of Patwardhan's first wife in 1922 and his remarriage 30 months later, in June 1924, to Radhabai, daughter of Govindrao Marathe. His relatives were asking him to remarry. On the other hand, Paluskar took the view that, rather than remarry, Vinayakrao should devote his life singlemindedly to the service of the vidyalaya. Faced with these strains, Vinayakrao, now about 25 years old, parted company with Vishnu Digambar with whom he had spent about 15 years. He went back to Miraj and then on to Kolhapur. This was a turning point in his life.
Career on Marathi stage
Vinayakrao Patwardhan's uncle Harikrishna Patwardhan lived in Kolhapur. Though a homoeopath by profession, he was an ardent music and drama enthusiast. He was very fond of Vinayakrao who, he thought, should become an actor - which implied singing as well - in a good, popular stage group. Musical theatre had by then become very popular in Maharashtra. Characterised by the interposition of classical and semi-classical songs between parts of dialogue, the theatre had a large number of very famous singer-actors, the most notable among them being Bal Gandharva of the Gandharva Natak Mandali.
Bal Gandharva was among those who attended Patwardhan's second wedding. He was then on the lookout for a good actor with handsome features and an impressive personality. He himself used to play the female lead roles in his plays and wanted a male to act and sing opposite him. His attention fell on Vinayakrao and he tried to persuade him to join the Mandali.
The Mandali was a prestigious institution and it was no easy task for a greenhorn in acting to find a place in it. Reportedly, Patwardhan was the only person ever recommended by Bal Gandharva for recruitment as an actor by the Mandali. Yet Patwardhan was reluctant to accept the offer. Firstly, he was not sure he had the credentials to be a good actor. Furthermore, his main interest was in music in which he was well trained. But the economic factor now became important. Having had no formal education, he had no hope of finding a regular job. At this time, he did not have the backing of the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya and it was more difficult to get concert opportunities. He was also unable to find enough disciples whom he could teach. Too, he was apprehensive that Paluskar would frown on his joining the stage as an actor. But his uncle and Bal Gandharva took it out of his hands and went directly to Paluskar with their proposal. Though initially opposed to the idea, Paluskar gave his approval after he was convinced that a career on the stage would not interfere with Patwardhan's concert career. But he did so rather reluctantly yet because he was afraid that a career in the theatre might affect Vinayakrao's personality and behaviour.
In the event, Vinayakrao joined the Gandharva Natak Mandah in August 1922 on a monthly remuneration of 60 rupees. This association with the stage lasted 10 years. Aiding him in his success on the stage was the fact that Marathi natya sangeet of this period had a classical flavour. In fact, many in audiences were there to listen to the songs rather than watch the plays.
Bal Gandharva was very fond of Vinayakrao and respected his steadfast devotion to classical values in music, his character and his way of life. He later raised his salary to 160 rupees a month. This of course led to some envy among his fellow artists. Some of them did not anyway regard Patwardhan's Gwalior gharana way of singing highly.
Vinayakrao made his debut on the Marathi stage as Narada in the play titled 'Saubhadra', within a month of his joining the Mandali. The play was staged at the New Elphinstone Theatre in Bombay. The character of Narada demanded that the person playing the role should be a good singer and have enough histrionic abilities to project a jovial countenance. Vinayakrao was a good singer but he was by nature of a serious disposition. A critic is said to have remarked that, as Narada, Vinayakrao was overcome by fear. The youngster showed his concern for doing well in whatever he did by taking instruction from Ganpatrao Bodas in Sangli whom he visited from time to time.
Vinayakrao went on to act in many popular plays, like 'Draupadi', 'Ekacha Pyala', 'Kanhopatra', 'Manapaman', 'Menaka', 'Mrichcha- katika', 'Nandakumar', 'Sakuntala', 'Samsayakallol', 'Sapasambhrama', 'Swayamvar' and 'Vidhilikhit', which were staged in several places. With his strong voice, which had a rich timbre and swara-suddha, he soon came to be regarded as one of the famous triumvirate of the stage, along with Bal Gandharva and Master Krishnarao. At the request of Bal Gandharva himself, he set to music the hero's songs in some plays. This in itself was an honour, as the Mandall had on its rolls eminent music directors like Bhaskarbuwa Bakhle and Govindrao Tembe. For about 10 years, he held an important place on the Marathi stage, despite having to compete with the great Bal Gandharva himself. The latter incidentally played the heroine in the plays in which Vinayakrao starred as the hero.
Some specialities of natya sangeet which Vinayakrao incorporated in his singing, included the use of aakaara phrases and the use of drut taan-s. He, however, did not like to take the liberty of using the graces (laalityapoorna gaayan) in his singing roles.
Vinayakrao had promised Paluskar that he would continue to give classical music recitals even while performing for the Mandali. And he did keep his promise. He also taught music to Vishnu Ghag and Janardhan Marathe, two young members of the cast of the Mandali, for nine years beginning in 1922.
Vinayakrao was one of those who stayed away from the pleasures usually associated with the world of drama in those times. In fact, he would not even drink tea. In spite of all this, Paluskar could not really reconcile himself to the fact that one of his favourite students was now member of a drama company. Accordingly, he had instructed his students not to allow Vinayakrao inside the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya. However, Vinayakrao was not deterred by this. Once when he was visiting Bombay, he went straight past the protesting students to meet his guru. Paluskar was initially angry but, when the visitor told him he was just the same old Vinayak and that he had abstained from drinking and other bad habits, he was appeased and the guru-shishya relationship was soon back on the old footing. In fact, in 1926, Paluskar advised Vinayakrao to bring out a book of natyageet-s, with notation, in order to propagate this genre of music. Vinayakrao agreed to do so with alacrity and 3000 copies of the first edition of _Natya Sangeet Prakash_, Part 1 was published in 1930. In 1932 he wrote Maharashtra Sangeet Prakash and then some more books.
Return to first love
Vishnu Digambar Paluskar died in August 1931 and this caused Patwardhan to ponder over what he was doing. His great devotion to his guru filled him with self-doubt and he felt that the time had come to leave the stage and return to his first love: music and its propagation. So he bade goodbye to the Mandali though he did act in a play one more time many years later. This was in 1971, on the occasion of the death anniversary of Bal Gandharva; he played the lead role in 'Sangeet Samsayakallol'.
There was a meeting of all the gurubandhu-s on 30 and 31 December to consider how best to carry forward the work of Paluskar. Vinayakrao and the others decided to establish what was called the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya Mandal, linking the vidyalaya-s in different places. Vinayakrao was elected to serve as its first President.
This apart, Patwardhan set about founding a music school - a new Gandharva Mahavidyalala - in Pune. He had to start from scratch. After a building was located, he launched the academy in May 1932. The launch was a grand event, presided over by the Editor of Kesari, N.C. Kelkar. Leading luminaries of the city were present. Vinayakrao and his disciples rendered the bandish _Param vimal tujhe charan_ in raga Patdeep. He followed it up with a speech in which he waxed eloquent about the form, greatness and scope of Hindustani music and laid emphasis on the need to set up the school for its propagation. He voiced the view it was his moral duty to spread Indian culture, namely, Indian music.
Vinayakrao immersed himself in the task of running the school, which was quite difficult in the early years. He managed to procure four tambura-s and two harmoniums along with a few carpets. He arranged for the classes to be conducted on the third floor of the building. The small staff consisted of Vinayakrao's disciples, Vishnu Ghag and Janardhan Marathe. His own salary as Principal of the school was a paltry 30 rupees a month! Not only that, he used a good part of the money he earned from his concerts for the school.
Vinayakrao named the school as a Mahavidyalaya after the wishes of his guru Vishnu Digambar. He saw his school as a place to teach youngsters not only to sing, but also the art and science of music. He saw it too as a place to groom performers and teachers of music who would carry on his own mission.
The school, which followed the broad vision of Vishnu Digambar, had some important distinguishing features:
* Its aim was the propagation of music. The hope was that some of its students at least would help in teaching and spreading music in different parts, while the rest would develop a keen ear for music.
* It paid special attention to the students' progress in music as well as developing their knowledge of music.
* It attached a great deal of importance to discipline in music, as well as in conduct and life.
* The Principal of the school led by precept and example. He practised what he preached and was a model for his staff and students.
* It kept the tuiton fee low as a matter of policy, in order to encourage boys and girls belonging to different strata of society to enrol as students.
The Gandharva Mahavidyalaya soon gained in popularity and even adults evinced interest in learning music. On their request, separate classes were held from 5 to 6 pm so that they could attend the music class after their return from work.

The smooth running of the institution was badly disrupted for a period of three or four months when plague struck Pune. The school had to be closed during that period. When it was eventually reopened, it faced a new kind of problem: the available space was inadequate to accomodate the swelling number of students. This was in 1934. At this juncture, Maharaja Sankarrao Patwardhan of Jamkhindi, a patron of the arts, came to the rescue. He leased a 12-room mansion of his to the school at a monthly rental of only 90 rupees.
The student strength had now gone up to 150 and classes were held morning, afternoon and night. Students were taught at four levels for different examinations: Pravesika, Madhyama, Visharad and Sangeet Kushal. Vinayakrao lived on the premises and devoted most of his time to the school, whether it was teaching, supervision or administration.
Patwardhan trained a very large number of students. There was of course his own son Narayanrao (b. 1925) who later became associated with the Akhil Bharatiya Gandharva Mahavidyalaya Mandal. A most illustrious musician who was taught by Patwardhan was Dattatreya Vishnu Paluskar, son of Vishnu Digambar. D.V. Paluskar was only 10 years of age when he lost his father. He was first sent to Narayanrao Vyas for training but the latter could not find sufficient time to teach the boy. Then Patwardhan took over the task, considering it his sacred responsibility and a duty owed to his late guru. The book Vandey Vinayakam, published by Pt. Vinayakrao Patwardhan Smarak Samiti, lists the names of as many as 91 disciples of Vinayakrao. Some of them were Vinaychandra Maudgalya, S.B. Deshpande, V.R. Athavale, Lakshmanrao Kelkar, Vishnu Ghag, V.D. Ghate, Janardhan Marathe, Mukundrao Gokhale, Rambhau Chandurkar, Sunanda Patnaik, Sakuntala Palasopkar, Leela Sardesai and Kamal Ketkar. Three others, Lila Limaye, Sita Mavinkurve and Indu Sohni were called the Three Nightingales at a music conference held by the Prayag Sangeet Samiti in Allahabad in 1934. A royal, Rajkumari Mangalraje Patwardhan of Miraj, studied under him for several years.
In 1942, Patwardhan handed over his school to the Bharatiya Sangeet Prasarak Mandal. He did so because he felt that it should not be dependent on one individual and that the Mandal, which was being run by a team of trustees, could better assure continuity. He did not, however, discontinue his association with the institution.
On 1 May 1952, Vinayakrao established the Vishnu Digambar Sangeet Mahavidyalaya in Pune in memory of his guru.
In keeping with his role as music missionary, Vinayakrao established another institution, the Vishnu Digambar Smarak Mandir, in Miraj on 25 February 1966. It was inaugurated by the then ruler of Miraj Srimant Narayanrao alias Tatyasaheb Mirajkar. The Smarak Mandir served as an effective platform for showcasing numerous musicians, and the death anniversary of Vishnu Digambar Paluskar was observed every year without fail. It is a standing testimony to the memory of Paluskar and his mission of propagating music.
Career as concert artist
Vinayakrao's career as a concert artist began even when he was a student.
In 1913, he sang at the wedding of the daughter of the Holkar of Indore and received the then princely sum of 500 rupees as well as a 'mahavastra'.
He had several opportunities to sing also at the sangeet sammelans or music conferences organised from time to time. The first one he attended was organised in the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya premises in March 1918, and it helped him to get an insight into the practical aspects of music first hand. He found that giving recitals, however brief, in the presence of stalwarts like Ichalkaranjikar, Bakhle, Vaze, A.M. Joshi and Rahmat Khan, was also a learning experience.
He presented a number of music concerts in Nagpur when he was Principal of the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya there.
He continued his pursuit of classical music even during his long innings with the Gandharva Natak Mandali. Bal Gandharva was very fond of him and respected him for his steadfastness to classical Hindustani music.
In March 1926 he was introduced to Mahatma Gandhi and sang two songs before the latter in Sabarmati.
Vinayakrao's first programme broadcast by All India Radio was on 15 August 1927.
The calendar entries continued like this, for all of 52 years. Altogether, he had a rich and varied experience, giving more than 1000 performances in various places and on various occasions.
His concert career took him abroad also. In 1954, he went to the U. S. S. R., Poland and Czechoslovakia as a member of a cultural delegation and, in 1956, to Nepal with a team of musicians.
Vinayakrao's gayaki was essentially that of the Gwalior gharana to which Paluskar belonged, but it was generally considered a subsidiary branch of it. He gave importance to the alapa in his music. He would develop his singing- boltaan, bolbant and taan- on the lines of the bandish.
Vinayakrao's deep respect for classical values was reflected in his music. He was faithful to traditional raga-s and was not interested in discovering new ones. He would usually sing raga-s like Asaveri, Bagesree, Bhoop, Darbari, Desi, Hameer, Jaunpuri, Jaijaiwanti, Suddha Sarang and Todi. Sometimes he would choose less frequently heard raga-s, like Anandi Kedar, Jayant Malhar, Malgunji and Ramdasi Malhar. He also learnt a few raga-s of Carnatic music.
Khayal, tarana and bhajan were his favourites; he shunned thumri, dadra and tappa. He had a forceful style in rendering tarana-s, with tongue-twisting syllables. He used expressions like 'dir-dir' and effortlessly pass from drut to anudrut. In 1954, when Vinayakrao went to the U.S.S.R. and sang before an august gathering which included the nation's leader, this aspect of tarana-singing aroused the curiosity of the Soviet leader. After the concert, the latter complimented Vinayakrao and then asked him whether he had kept some kind of device in his mouth!
Possessed of a powerful voice, Patwardhan had full mastery over laya, and speed did not deter him, Once, when some mischievous organisers of a concert put two master tabla players on the stage along with him in the hope they would trip him up, he took it in his stride and got through the concert without any discomfiture.
So confident of his own mastery of music was he that he would openly encourage his accompanists and express his appreciation of their performance freely. He would also give them sufficient opportunity to play, just as he gave chances to his accompanying disciples to sing.
According to Dr. Sumati Mutatkar, his music was a strange combination of discipline and freedom.
Patwardhan revelled in singing bhajan-s. Some of his favourite bhajan-s were Ab ke thek hamarey in Kafi, Raghukul reet sada in Jaunpuri, Mai Giridhar aagey nachoongi in Bahar and, of course, Jogi mat jaa in Bhairavi, which he sang to great effect. He would also sing popular numbers from natyasangeet when there were requests from members of the audience, as there were often.
One well-known critic averred that Patwardhan's bhajan-s lacked the correct style and sounded like orders to god. He likewise disliked Patwardhan's tarana-singing which he described as an exercise in the display of speed. But he seems to have been in a minority.
Even when performing, education was always on Vinayakrao's mind. For the benefit of the audience, he would announce the names of the raga-s before rendering them.
He had many other achievements as well to his credit.
He served for some time on the audition board of All India Radio.
As the Principal of the Vidyalaya in Nagpur and later as the head of the institutions he himself set up, he showed himself to be an able administrator. In between, in 1928, he demonstrated his administrative acumen and skills serving as the secretary of a three-day music conference. He did that again when, in 1934, he led a fund-raising programme organised by the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya to help the victims of the earthquake in Bihar.
He was an author as well. He wrote many text-books on music for use in his school
He received many honours, including Fellowship of the Sangeet Natak Akademi (1965) and the Padma Bhushan (1972).
Altogether, he had a long and illustrious career spanning more than half a century. Through all this, he remained true to the memory of his revered guru Vishnu Digambar Paluskar and modeled his life and career in keeping with his vision and teachings. Even during his years in the theatre, he defied all temptations and stayed true to the path he had chosen. A god-fearing man, he would recite the Gayatri mantra every day. He was uniformly courteous to everyone, great or humble. And he was an interesting conversationalist.
He died on 23 August 1975 in Pune. He was scheduled to sing a jugalbandi with Narayanrao Vyas that evening but it was not to be.

Wednesday, 6 May 2015

Gharanon Ki Gaiki - Vol. 18 - Hameed Ali Khan & Fateh Ali Khan - Gwalior Gharana



See our earlier post of a cassette by the two brothers here.

The two brothers were and still are well-known Khayal singers in Pakistan. Not to be confused with the famous Patiala Gharana singers of the same names. It seems that they stopped at one point to sing together. See below the links to their facebook sides. 

On the artists see:

Sunday, 7 October 2012

Pandit Yashwantbuwa Joshi (1927-2012) passed away

On friday the 5th of october Pandit Yashwantbuwa Joshi, one of the last great masters of a bygone era, passed away. Last year we had posted already two cassettes by him. See here  and here. Now we present as a tribute to him a cassette published in 2001 in India.




Yashwant Buwa Joshi – “The basic requirement of music is a magical quality called “Rang”

Yashwant Buwa spoke to Deepak Raja on June 5, 2003
I was born and brought up in Pune. My father operated a couple of cabs in the city. He was untrained in music, but had a lovely voice and sang devotional songs very well. That is all I can claim by way of a family background in music. It was my uncle, Govardhan Buwa Naik, who was responsible for pushing me in this direction. He was an alumnus of the first batch (1901) of Vishnu Digambar’s Gandharva Mahavidyalaya (Music College) in Lahore under a nine-year apprenticeship in music. The only explanation for his having gone there was that lodging, boarding, and training were free. That was my grandfather’s way of ensuring that his family could survive on his income. Govardhan Buwa could not sing, but became a competent player on the Harmonium, Tabla and Dilruba (a short-necked, fretted, lute of the bowed variety). So, after graduating, he started a music school in Bombay. Because he had no children, he was keen that I should train as a musician and take over its management after him.
At my sacred thread ceremony, which took place when I was nine, my uncle invited the famous vocalist, Mirashi Buwa (Yashwant Sadashiv Mirashi). My uncle’s Guru, Vishnu Digambar, and Mirashi Buwa had studied together under Balkrishna Buwa Ichalkaranjikar. My uncle and Mirashi Buwa thus belonged to a close-knit gharana fraternity. Mirashi Buwa had just moved to Pune from Nashik, after serving a leading theatre company for 24 years. Over lunch, my uncle requested the stalwart to teach me, and he agreed. This is how it started. Every single day, after returning from school, I would go to Mirashi Buwa’s house and learn music. As luck would have it, my uncle died within a year of my starting music lessons. There was no longer a ready business awaiting me. But, I continued studying music.
The relationship was in the traditional mould, the only difference being that I continued to live with my parents. I paid no fees, and spent all my time – other than school – with my Guru. Initially, the teaching was by the “direct method” – reproducing what the Guru sings. No questions were to be asked. No logic was to be understood. Despite this, within five years, I found myself so intoxicated with music that I could no longer concentrate on my studies. So, four years short of graduation, I quit school in favour of music.

Making a living
My training with Mirashi Buwa continued for 12 years. By this time, I was 21, and had to start making a living. Music was all I knew. Those were difficult days for musicians, particularly in Pune. I spent a whole year contemplating my course of action. My childhood friend, and neighbour from Pune, Ram Marathe, was by now in Bombay, making some headway as a professional singer. So, in 1950, I decided to take on the world with his helping hand. Though I had no experience, the only path open to me was teaching music. Fees were poor in those days. Each student would pay Rs. 10 or 15 per month. With great difficulty, I earned about Rs. 50 a month. But, living was cheap – my monthly food bill was Rs. 30 -- I managed. Though I did not ultimately inherit a music school, teaching was evidently my destiny anyway. For over 50 years now, I have been teaching. I must have, by now, taught over 125 students. Several have become successful vocalists. Some are just making a living as music teachers. Some pursue other professions and enjoy music as a hobby. And, many have merged into the faceless audience of Hindustani music.
Moving to Bombay widened my horizons. Soon after I moved, Jagannath Buwa Purohit moved into our locality. I was greatly attracted to his style. So, I studied with him for about six years. In the same spirit, I studied with KG Ginde, SCR Bhat, Nivrutti Buwa Sarnaik, Master Krishnarao Phulambrikar, Mallikarjun Mansoor, and the Natyasangeet singer, Chhota Gandharva. In my childhood, I had heard Ramkrishna Buwa Vaze, and his style had made a deep impact on me. So, in my singing, you will find the glimpses of each of these stalwarts.

The philosophy of music
I am conservative, but not orthodox. I have a strong foundation laid in the Gwalior style. But, I was never a prisoner of the gharana. I sought out every musician whose style attracted me, and learnt from him what I could. Jagannath Buwa often told me that the basic requirement of music is that magical quality called “Rang” (literally: colour). As a quality in music, “Rang” transcends considerations of voice quality, grammar and communication of rasa (emotional content). Public appeal is not my yardstick for validating my music. I will not sacrifice the dignity of my art to charm audiences. I will not, for instance, make a Thumree out of a Khayal, or start singing with my body. But, an artist cannot be a mere scientist. If he wants to command an audience and also command respect, he has to strike the tricky balance between the sanctity of art and the listening pleasure of audiences. If he cannot do this, he can remain a teacher.
My recordings have been in the market for several years. I have been performing on the radio since 1946, and also broadcast two National Programmes over All India Radio. And, for a long time, nobody noticed. In the last ten years, people suddenly realised that Yashwant Buwa can also sing. Today, I have admirers not only in our home state of Maharashtra, but also in Calcutta, Delhi and a few other cities. Several institutions have bestowed honours on me for my services as a teacher and performer. At 75, I can still hold an audience for two hours. I have no regrets. But, had recognition come when I was younger, people would have heard better music from me.

The pursuit of music – then and now
Our times were tough. The status of musicians in society was low. There was no support for music either from government or from private benefactors or institutions. There was no ‘career’ in music, except for the greatest. Audiences were small. The Guru was the only source of musical inputs for students. There was radio, and there was the gramophone; but not many people could afford either. There were concerts; but mainly for invited audiences.
To begin with, finding a Guru was tough. We did not pay fees, but rendered all manner of services in lieu of training. The relationship was totally one-sided, and often oppressive. He taught the way he wanted to, and there was no appeal against it. There was no notation, no possibility of recording training sessions, no grammar, no logic. You could encounter musicians who could sing a raga very well, but go blank if you asked them the scale of the raga. Learning was primarily by reproducing what the Guru sang. From studying music, to making a career, it was struggle, struggle, and struggle. The positive aspect of this was that, because of the price they had paid for their success, the survivors conducted themselves, and practiced their art, with dignity. They treated that passage between the stage and the audiences as sacred.
The situation today is exactly the reverse. Anyone can learn music if he can afford it. Good Gurus are, of course, more scarce than they were in our times, and locating them can take a lot of trial and error. Recorded music is so accessible that it is possible to become a reasonable vocalist even without a Guru. The relationship between the Guru and his disciple is now a commercial one. A student can demand an explanation of the logic and get it. He can record training sessions for revision. Career opportunities are plenty, and the money is good for the successful. Society, government, and institutions encourage music.
Most important is the emergence of a market, with audiences willing to pay for music. For creating a substantial class of connoisseurs, we have to thank the educational efforts of the two giants, Bhatkhande and Vishnu Digambar, and their followers. Glamour and money have now made music a rat race that everyone with half a chance wants to join. The journey is still tough. But, it is a struggle, which takes the dignity of the art as its first casualty. It makes art cross the frontier between the musician and the audience to plunge into pockets. And, yes, many bright kids now get money and fame ahead of maturity, get bloated heads, stagnate, and fall by the wayside. The demands of success are changing, as they inevitably will. Despite these anxieties, I am optimistic about Hindustani music for several reasons – today’s kids are intelligent and talented, studying music is no longer difficult, and there are ample opportunities for building a career in it.
by Deepak Raja from his very interesting blog:
http://swaratala.blogspot.de/2007/04/yashwant-buwa-joshi-basic-requirement.html

"Yashwantbua Joshi, now 76 ( in 2004), is one of the leading exponents of the khayal gayaki of Gwalior and Agra gharanas. Yaswantbua had extensive training in Pune from Pt. Mirashibua. Around 1950, he moved to Bombay where he came under the tutelage of Pt. Jagannathbua Purohit “Gunidas”. He was also influenced by the gayaki of stalwarts such as Gajananbua Joshi and Chhota Gandharva.
His gayaki combines the romanticism of swara with the discipline of laya, making his mehfils unparalleled in quality. He is an old-school artist at heart, preferring the Tilwada or Jhumra (not the ati-vilambit kind) for his khayals. The khayal is usually followed by multiple bandishes (or, rarely, taranas) in the same raag. The khayal presentations are full and leisurely. The badhat and the chhota khayals are peppered with a variety of taans and very sophisticated layakari. He has a huge repertoire of bandishes, from which he summons the choicest of compositions and presents them with panache. While his concerts are dominated by khayal, he also enjoys singing the occassional natyageet or bhajan.
Yashwantbua has been honoured with a number of awards, including the Maharashtra Government Gaurav Puraskar in 1993 and, most recently, the Sangeet Natak Academy Award."

Meera Music, a small label in Mumbai, released two CDs by him:


Yashwantbuwa Joshi (Vocal) – Live Vocal Concert, MP3 CD: Raga Shivmat Bhairav, Raga Bibhas, Raga Komal Rishabh Asawari, Raga Shuddha Sarang, Raga Gavati, MEERA MUSIC, mm 028
Total time: 2 hours and 10 minutes. 





Yashwantbuwa Joshi (Vocal) – Live Vocal Concert: Ragas Yaman, Nand, Hameer & Shahana, MEERA MUSIC, mm 003

They can be obtained from: info@raga-maqam-dastgah.com

“Yashwant Buwa Joshi (born: 1927) is an unusual musician who has spent most of his adult life as a modest teacher, and gained recognition as a performer only after the age of sixty. Yashwant Buwa’s career has flowered (“Buwa” is a suffix commonly used in Maharashtra to signify a respected, elderly gentleman) in the sunset years of his life, thanks to the incredible vitality of his performances which have earned him nationwide popularity, and the growing rarity of his brand of music. He has performed on All India Radio since 1946, and currently occupies the top grade amongst empanelled musicians. Since the mid-1990s, he has also established a substantial presence in the commercial recordings market and collected his share of honours.
Joshi studied first with Mirashi Buwa (Yashwant Sadashiv Mirashi) of the Gwalior tradition, and switched thereafter to the Agra style (Jaganatbuwa Purohit). The switch did not, evidently, quench his thirst for musical ideas. He therefore went on to study with several other vocalists (KG Ginde, SCR Bhat, Nivrutti Buwa Sarnaik, Master Krishnarao Phulambrikar, Mallikarjun Mansoor, and the Natyasangeet singer, Chhota Gandharva), representing an eclectic mix of styles. Today, he is respected as the last surviving pioneer of the Gwalior-Agra stylistic confluence in khayal vocalism.”
Deepak Raja in Sruti Magazine, March 2008