Playing Second fiddle
Understanding Mom’s passion for music
First exposure to Hindustani classical music
Music has a way of connecting with people across the globe. Everyone has a unique relationship with it. Some find joy in listening to their favorite tunes, others love to sing along, while a few dive deep into various genres and the theories behind them. Some become utterly obsessed, living and breathing music. My mom is a perfect example of harboring this type of passion for music! Recently, she was honored for her remarkable contributions to Hindustani classical music, and it took me on an amusing trip down memory lane.
Our family often played second fiddle to her devotion to Pundit Bhatkhande’s works, and it has been an unforgettable journey witnessing her love for music going from strength to strength.
Pundit Bhatkhande was a renowned musicologist who authored the first comprehensive treatise on Hindustani classical music. His pioneering work laid the foundation for studying and preserving this rich form of music. Pundit Bhatkhande’s books continue to be regarded as essential references for anyone seriously interested in studying Hindustani music. For more detailed information about his significant contributions to the field, you can refer to Wikipedia.
My family’s love for Hindustani classical music started with my grandmother, who was sent to Mumbai from Bengaluru to live with her maternal aunt and cousins when she was young. My grandmother was exposed to the world of Hindustani classical music here, which was very different from the world of Carnatic music to which she was accustomed. She was enamored with this new style of music and enrolled herself in Hindustani vocal lessons in Mumbai. After a few years, she returned to Bengaluru, married, and started a family.
Baby steps towards fostering a lifelong passion
My mom was a true music lover from a young age, refusing to fall asleep unless someone serenaded her with the popular film song “So ja Rajkumari” (sleep princess)! As a small child, she would effortlessly sing “Dharani mandala,” a folk song in the regional language Kannada. It was clear she was born with music flowing through her veins!
While studying Engineering at the prestigious Indian Institute of Science (IISc) and later on at Cornell University in the US, she captivated the student community with that era’s popular Hindi and Kannada songs. It was during these years that her passion for music truly took hold. After graduating and getting married, she declared to my dad her dream: to put her career on the back burner and start her musical journey. My dad wholeheartedly supported her love for music.
Pundit Bhatkhande enters our lives
Unsurprisingly, I was born to the sounds of her mainly singing film songs. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t hear her sing. Once my brother was born and we grew up to be in primary school, she decided to focus seriously on Hindustani classical music that she had heard through my grandmother. She bought the six volumes of Pundit Bhatkhande’s books on Hindustani music theory and notations. I’ve added a picture of one of the books. Thus, some exciting events also began in my life.
Side effects of harboring a passion
Mom had a habit that routinely turned our kitchen into chaos. Instead of simply cooking rice, she transformed her rice cooker into a makeshift stand for her beloved Pundit Bhatkhande books. A picture of the book on the cooker is shown. It was always wide open, with her peering into it, while she cooked with barely a glance at what simmered on the stove. Burning food was a common occurrence. She used to toss random vegetables into dishes with nary a thought as to whether the end result was palatable.
Trying to share my school events with her was futile; she’d nod absentmindedly, offering a cursory “ok” as she immersed herself in the pages of her book. My frustration grew – this ‘Pundit Bhatkhande’ was taking center stage in all our lives! Her humming was constant and at times, it buzzed in my ears like a pesky mosquito. I found myself desperately begging her for just one minute of silence, but my pleas went unheard.
Coffee time was an adventure of its own. Water would be boiled and poured into the filter, but there was a high probability that there was no coffee powder! All because she was buried in that book again. When she did manage to brew a cup, she’d often mistakenly add salt instead of sugar that nearly drove me to giving up coffee altogether.
And don’t even get me started on her practice sessions! No one, not even a pesky fly, could break her concentration. The urge to toss those music books out the window grew stronger by the day. Frustrated, I would grab my school books and dash to my grandparents’ house just around the corner. There, I’d vent to them about my musical mom while being placated by their tasty coffee.
Another amusing incident (in retrospect) was when I eagerly signed up to perform in a group bamboo dance at school. Unfortunately for me, a long, flowing skirt I owned had to be shortened, putting my mom, who dreaded sewing, in a bad mood. With the distraction of Pundit Bhatkhande’s book nearby, her focus wavered, and she stitched my skirt inside out! The moment she realized what she had done, she unleashed her frustration on me, questioning my decision to dance in the first place. Although she grumbled and fixed it, that unforgettable incident etched itself into my memory as an example of her obsession.
Self learning
She had started learning Hindustani music from a local teacher and soon surpassed her, who told her she had nothing left to teach her. This situation of being stuck in a life where she had no choice but to take care of us and reaching a seemingly dead end in her quest to learn more frustrated her. She even wrote to the esteemed Hindustani classical musicians Pundits Rajan and Sajan Mishra in Varanasi. I guess I should be thankful that they never responded, and she didn’t have any opportunity to dump us all and pursue her passion in a full-fledged manner.
These incidents put us all in a position where we realized we were always going to be playing second fiddle to Pundit Bhatkhande.
Bonding over music
As I grew up, I realized that I was resenting my mom’s obsession with music as seen through the lens of a kid. Perhaps I wanted a mother who could make tasty meals and listen to me with rapt attention. In reality, without my knowing it, all that exposure to her singing, made me develop a deep and abiding love for music, so much so that one fine day, I followed my mother to her teacher expressing my interest in learning music. She was kind enough to teach me Marathi abhangs (devotional songs) even though I had no formal training, a love for which has continued through the years. Life came a full circle when I spotted my school-going daughter helping me cut vegetables while looking at her music book and singing a bandish (composition) she was learning from her teacher! I was both horrified and proud!! How can genes go wrong?
Mom and I now routinely talk about music, we send links of songs on YouTube to each other. I encourage her to keep up with writing and recording her original compositions. She is very proficient in Carnatic music too that reflects in her compositions. Unlike my mother, I am neither as talented nor overly obsessed with music, but music of all types speak to my soul thanks to her influence. Perhaps due to listening to her singing all the time, I rarely forget a tune once I’ve heard it (doesn’t unfortunately apply to the words in the song!) No music, no life applies to all members of my family!
Sometimes we need to grow up to appreciate a parent’s talent. Not all moms are created equal, and in my case, I am proud that my mom has stayed true to her passion. She is an inspiration to her kids and grandkids.
Seeing my mom beaming with happiness at being felicitated made me realize it was worth playing second fiddle to Pundit Bhatkhande’s work.
