A LIFE IN THREE OCTAVES THE MUSICAL JOURNEY OF GANGUBAI HANGAL
Author: Deepa Ganesh
Publisher: Three Essays
Pages: 220
Price: Rs 600
"If Gangubai sings it touches the sky and if Krishna sings it touches the heart."
- Da. Ra. Bendre, Kannada poet
The book is a definitive biography on the life of Gangubai Hangal (5 March 1913 - 21 July 2009), the doyenne of the Kirana gharana of Hindustani classical music. She lived to the ripe age of 96 and was presenting full concerts in her nineties and sang on Akashvani till 2002.
I remember attending a jam-packed concert of hers in Mumbai, around 2005. There was no sign of weariness in her stentorian masculine voice although her daughter Krishna Hangal, who used to accompany her, filling in gaps and allowing her to catch her breath, was no more. It took me back more than 40 years when I first heard her at a Sangeet Mahotsav organised by the state government in Bombay, as it was called then. The khayal in Shuddha Kalyan captured me and I remained a lifelong fan. The beauty of Shuddha Kalyan lies in the swaras of mandra saptak and in the meends relating to nishad and madhyam, which she could exploit well with her bass voice.
Hangal gave her last concert in March 2006 to mark her 75th career year. She had overcome bone marrow cancer in 2003 and died of cardiac arrest in Hubli where she lived. She donated her eyes to raise public awareness for organ donation. It is unfortunate that her birth centenary in 2013 was not properly observed by the Indian music world. However, the Karnataka state government has set up a school in her name in Hubli in the gurukul style staffed by eminent musicians.
The book consists of 15 chapters and deals with all the troubles and tribulations the musician faced, being born in a family of courtesans. Her circumstances did not deter her from pursuing with single-minded devotion to be a worthy disciple of the inimitable Sawai Gandharva. It is ironic that although she was educated only as far as the fifth standard, she was conferred honorary doctorates by four universities, received 50 awards and 24 titles and was felicitated by nine prime ministers and five presidents. The author could have enriched the biography by listing these honours and providing a discography. Hangal was as much a talented cook as singer. The biography has a bonus. The author has thoughtfully added a chapter on the musician's favourite recipes for sambhar and avalakki (poha).
The author Deepa Ganesh does full justice to the personality of the musician, with interesting anecdotes, both personal and professional. I like the chapter ("The Song Of Her Soul") where Ganesh compares Hangal's music with that of the other stalwarts of Kirana gharana like Bhimsen Joshi. The masculine voice that she acquired was the result of throat surgery, though it was the feminine voice that had brought her popularity through 78 rpm records. Few know that Hangal had recorded ghazals in 78 rpm vinyl records in her early days. K L Saigal, the famous singer-actor, had once remarked that she was "bahut surila" ("very melodious") after attending her concert in Calcutta. It was through sheer saadhana that she turned her androgynous voice to advantage, imparting a certain majesty without sacrificing melody.
She was a fundamentalist khayal singer who would not sing bhajans, thumris and other forms of light music. She was often asked why she did not sing bhakti compositions. For her, the music her guru imparted to her was so spiritual that she found no need for special devotional music. More than that, leading women classical musicians like Hirabai Barodekar (1905-1989), daughter of Ustad Abdul Karim Khan, founder of the Kirana gharana, and Mogubai Kurdikar (1904-2001), an authentic exponent of the Jaipur-Atrauli gharana, influenced her. Kurdikar had a rule: dhrupadiyas should sing the dhrupad, khayaliyas khayals and thumri singers thumri. "Sagli khichdi keli kahich dhad jamat nahin," she would say (If you mix them all, you won't be good at any genre).
Hangal once said it was from Kurdikar that she developed a passion for the khayal gayaki. This specialisation enabled her to develop great levels of layakari and bol taans. The blending of swaras with the laya was strongly seen in the unfolding of lesser-known ragas. When she sang, the swaras would never be overshadowed in the huge web of taans and bol-taans.
But the author is right when she says: "A loud, heavy voice that lacked flexibility cannot do justice to the delicate, nuanced nature of thumri or bhakti music." This was clear when she sang at Rajghat on Gandhi's death anniversary a few years ago. This was an annual function at which leading musicians sang mainly the Mahatma's favourite bhajans. After Hangal's performance was relayed over Akashvani, there were protests from the rasikas with many feeling that the real bhakti element was missing.
Like Abdul Karim Khan, her parama guru (guru's guru), Hangal spent her lifetime perfecting the note with all its microtonal excellences. Khan was an admirer of the Carnatic music system and that probably influenced his own approach to music, including the use of sargams in the course of singing a khayal. As the author points out: "Music, for Gangubai, was an expression of faith and the note had to be searched and discovered each time a phrase was attempted. …In her case, a penetrating search for the note was more important than ornamentation. She could never achieve the sweetness, smoothness or the delicate artistry of tones that the Kirana was noted for, but with inherited talent, scrupulous cultivation and years of struggle what she achieved was unbelievable."
In conclusion, I cannot but agree more with the author. "It is a myth that music rides on a great voice. Gangubai disproved it every living moment of her life. Indian classical music is neither a perfect piece of poetry nor a premeditated symphony. It does not have a definite aesthetic ambition. It takes birth and develops at the given moment along the shore of tradition. Gangubai's music was a celebration of such imperfections."
