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His dexterous fingers
move effortlessly over the piece of reed, bringing alive the
unsophisticated instrument. The exponent and his flute are
inextricably linked to create music that casts a magical spell on the
listeners. Meet the maestro – Hari Prasad Chaurasia.
Hari Prasad Chaurasia and
his flute – without one there cannot be the other. Justifiably
so because there is no other living exponent in the world today who
can make this unsophisticated piece of reed come so vibrantly alive
so as to cast a spell completely sensual and emotional on the
listeners. Notes of rare elegance and a mastery of the tonality of
the instrument is this maestro’s forte. If anything, the
melodious notes that emanate from his exclusive repertoire speaks of
sun-kissed glades, majestic mountains, rippling rivers and winds that
whisper through trees to spell the magic of peace and tranquility. A
meting with the versatile exponent reveals a soft baritoned, pleasant
person who puts you at ease instantly with his charm. One look at
his dexterous fingers which move with effortless ease over the piece
of reed, and the viewer is filled with a sense of awe.
Taking about his life,
his music and his utter devotion to the cause, he unravels his own
story. “Ever since I was a child, I was greatly drawn towards
music,” says the maestro. “This sense of fascination was
so great that I would go and stand near radios, at the corners of
temples and get lost in the sounds of the bhajans”. Born
into a simple, homely family in Allahabad, Hari Prasad is the son of
the famous wrestler, Sri Lal Chaurasia. “My father wanted me to
be a wrestler and made me go to many bouts of wrestling much against
my will.” In order to respect his father’s wishes he would
oblige but there, within him, was being born a small flame of revolt.
With no mother to shield
him from a stern and overtly strict father, this little boy set to
capture the moods of music in hiding. Hours would be spent at the
houses of friends whose parents would keep their radios blaring for
the benefit of the whole house. And one day, out of sheer
coincidence, the little music lover met Pandit Raja Ram. This became
the turning point in his life. Being childless himself, the guru and
his wife would call their little shishya most secretly,
without arousing anyone’s suspicions and set to teach him. The
little singer bloomed under the new confidence and maternal affection
he had long waited for and the years went by till he became eleven.
It was this year that one day, in the season of saawan, when
the storm was at its height with the terrific downpour of rain, the
crash of thunder and repeated flashes of lighting, along with the
sounds of the trees swaying in the wind, came the sweet strains of
someone playing a flute. The little boy could but follow the path
that led to the sound. Behold! It came the announcement that it was
played by Pandit Bhola Nath of Benares. The rapt listener spent days
in finding another mentor – “The sound of the flute was
beyond the realms of the throat,” he says and here, for a short
period of four years, began his association with the bamboo reed that
would one day be synonymous with him. Starting on a bansuri,
very similar to the rustic piece that Krishna played on, he graduated
from shaili to vaadya and then to saadhna and ghamak.
In keeping with the
wishes of his father he took up the job of a stenographer. “
You know my hours at the office were filled with despondency. There
was a void in me that had to filled.” So he found his way to
All India Radio and requested them to seek a place for him elsewhere.
“In 1956 they found me job at the All India Radio at Cuttack
and I decided to take one month’s leave from my steno’s job
and go.”
Fearing the wrath of his
father’s anger he told him only on the day he was leaving. “My
father asked me all sorts of questions and when he realized that I
was serious and I was born to live with music he broke down and
cried. Can you imagine a wrestler crying?” The man who had
sacrificed everything to live only for the sake of his little
motherless son was now being left alone. “He said to me, ‘You
want to have the freedom of your choice to be independent? Then I
suppose you must go.” The caged bird now had wings to fly.
Hari Prasad had found
himself a new home amidst records, tapes and recording studios. The
maestro was now taking shape, spending long arduous hours playing
with intense passion and devotion. “A house to live in, food to
eat and crowds to listen to my music – I had everything I wanted
but suddenly the hand of fate came down on me. My popularity was
gaining disproportionate measure and I was transferred to Bombay.”
The next phase of Chaurasia’s career was to begin – the
gods had ordained a new path for their beloved disciple. The rough
hostile pressures of day to day living in a quick paced metropolitan
became demanding and Chaurasia found his way to the film studios –
his first recording for the song, Phir wahi shyam sung by
Talat Mehmood. “Even after working around the clock, I was
again filled with the old feeling of emptiness. Something was
missing in my life!’
Destiny brought him to
meet Guruma Annapurna Shankar (Pandit Ravi Shankar’s
ex-wife). The daughter of the famed Ustad Allauddin Khan (Mentor of
Ravi Shanker, Nikhil Bannerjee, Ali Akbar Khan) now had to be
convinced that her pupil had a divine interest and devotion to the
cause of sahastriya sangeet (classical music). Thus started
the final countdown to the most rigorous and dedicated chapter of his
life. The culmination of long cherished desire and the guru
shishya parampara satarted taking its form.
In an era when classical
musicians are marketed as celebrities, this cool, kurta-clad flautist
has a profoundly serious and traditional finesse. Guruma Annapurna
remains his guru even today. “She taught me that the real music
for any artist is what the music evokes… my identity had to come
from my music. My compositions and my variations.” It is
precisely these improvisations that have shone a streak of
authenticity and originality. “To work had and well at things
worth doing is to know life’s great satisfaction. Every
performance is to utmost importance to me.”
For an evening of
maestros, he offers the piece closest to his heart called ‘Eternity’,
a beautiful two part composition of salvation and creation. Whether
it be raga bhairavi, malkaus, bhopali or even bhageswari
his music is symbiotic of his own characteristics. Did the same man
play those lilting melodies in ’27 Down’, ‘Silsila’
and ‘Chandni’? Even after hundreds of performances and
standing ovations, the maestro is always a trifle anguished and
anxious about the next one. To him, it represents a test of love,
devotion, strength and above all grace.
“I believe in a
sincerity of purpose, in a philosophy based on hope and passionate
devotion. Maybe this is why my audiences are unanimous in their
acclaim. When I play I want them to understand my emotions, my
language, but it is also my duty to feel what kind of mood they are
in.” For a man who performs for all cross-sections of humanity,
his aim is to hold the pulse of his audiences.
“An artiste must
have an emotive approach in order to endear himself. He must also
have the capacity or sensitivity to respond to every emotion that he
pours forth.” Maybe this is why his raga hamsadhwani can
evoke laughter at certain intervals and raga darbari can bring tears.
Whatever the purpose, his renderings are always a composition of his
flute repertoire and this demands a virtuoso technique to perform.
In a combination of rich
harmonies and suspensions that are typical of his romantic style, his
creative ingenuity is outstanding. He has opened new techniques for
the flute, thus enriching the musical possibilities of the
instrument. For a man who believes that music is a gift from the
Gods, his masterful technique and artistry --- his flair for
brilliance cannot go unnoticed. As he breezes from one state to
another in whirlwind tours, he elevates his bansuri to the
hypnotic poignancy of meditative virtuosity.
The flute’s immense
popularity is perhaps due to its mythological intent. In the gentle
entwining of the Lord of Brindavans with his bansuri, Indian folklore
found a sense of grace, beauty and ideal love with which painters,
musicians and dancers could infuse their themes. If classical
articulation can be best described for its expressiveness it’s
right there in the mellifluous notes of the maestro. For those of us
who seek a new sense of humanity and a more meaningful life, an
excerpt from his repertoire is all that is needed for a richer
perspective.
Breathing life into the
reed with inspiration and emotion, he does not consciously rely on
technicalities especially as technique is automatically subordinated
to the needs of his inspiration. Chaurasia is, at present, at his
zenith in the field of music and the ease with which he talks of
yesteryears seems to instill a sense of peace and joy in him…
Maybe this is low a maestro is born for when love and strength are
wedded to intense devotion, divine grace is man’s reward.
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