A quest for the perfect sarangi leads to a suprising
incident.
A well made sarangi from those great sarangi makers living 100 years
ago always requires playing on it for a minimum of 10 to 15 years by
a good player until its sound box shrinks on all sides. It is a dream
of any sarangi player to have an old unbroken sarangi on which to perform
as it produces a very distinct sound of its own compared to other instruments
or even to other sarangis. It almost appears as if sarangis have their
own vocal chords.
During my art school years of 1948-49 several of the art students were
given scholarships once a year to travel to ancient cultural centers.
We were taken around by the trustees and teachers of the art school
at a very luxurious pace in a bogie. One time, on arriving at Udaipur,
Rajasthan, we had at our disposal a van with a driver. This was a very
elegant and comfortable government van decorated with the insignia of
the local Maharaja. Wanting to purchase a good old sarangi from a Dholee
family, I talked to the driver and he happily agreed to take four of
us in the late evening to the colony. These families of musicians are
similar to the troubadors of Europe and have a long tradition of contributing
to Indian classical music.
That night we set out for the colony but on arrival we found that the
village was deserted; all the doors closed and nobody in the streets.
According to the driver this was usually a bustling place. However,
he realized what had happened. The inhabitants had recognized the van
which was used by the Maharaja to send for young musicians to entertain
guests. The driver said he should have brought us in another vehicle.
The driver found one villager and explained to him that we were young
students from Bombay and that one of them wanted to purchase a sarangi.
The man told us to "Hold on" and while we waited in the van
they brought us chai and some old cakes for refreshment. After a while
they took us to a house where a few sarangi players had been gathered
together. They played some ghazzal and thumries for us. Several sarangis
were brought out but they were not in good condition.
The driver offered to take us on Saturday to a place where these women
danced and sang to amuse a group of baboos (clerks). So we went in the
late afternoon. There were a few young girls , maybe three or four,
belonging to a very close knit family from the Dholey colony. They wore
their charming folk dress which consisted of a dhupatta, a three yard
sari which was wrapped around the body and covered the head, and a very
colorful skirt. These dupattas were made of semi-transparent cloth.
There were about ten to twelve men holding glasses of liquor. At first
the women sang accompanied by a sarangi player and a drummer. Then one
of the women was requested to stand up and dance. As soon as one girl
got tired another would take over. Each time a beautiful phrase came
out the men would stand up in the spirit of appreciation never forgetting
to pull up a transparent screen which they were holding in front of
them.
This reminded me of a Maharashtran marriage ceremony where it was expected
that the bride and groom have never seen each other. As a virginal gesture
a cotton screen is held up by relatives between the couple while the
sacred mantras are sung. In a similar way these men held on to the curtain
over which they looked at the dancer. If they saw something revealing
which they felt they should not see they lifted up the curtain and smirked
behind it.
We young guys got quite a kick out of watching this scene and the
expressions on the men's faces. It was a curious mixture of sensuality
and good musical entertainment. It was so funny, so interesting and
unusual . We had never before seen anything like this. I was particularly
fascinated by the excellent sarangi player who was able to imitate exactly
the vocal expressions of the singers.It was this which made me depict
the exact expression of the situation many years later.