Namita Devidayal > Quotes

“When things get bad, you create a perceived enemy, especially when there is resounding endorsement from all quarters.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Music Room

“Son, remember that all the ragas of the universe lie inside this wooden instrument. You merely have to release them, one by one.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“By the time they returned to New York, Lyle was a man in love. He had just read an interview in The New York Times in which Vilayat Khan spoke about music in a manner he had never before encountered: ‘Our music became systemetized thousands of years ago,’ Mr Khan explained by telephone from Bombay. ‘Through the notes, musicians found colors and effects: cool notes, hot notes, combinations of notes that represent the seasons of the year or the hours of the day. One gives the effect of the monsooon; one is dry, like powdered snow; some are red, as in the sunset; some are red as in the sunrise. All these notes have a particular effect and colour, and it is from these that ragas are built … Yes, it is a very complex kind of music, and listeners in your country may not understand all the details. But you know, the right note, the right sound, is something that everybody understands.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“Ray had earlier worked with Ravi Shankar on the Apu Trilogy. Both the trilogy and Jalsaghar had haunting musical narratives, but there had clearly been hiccups. Many years later, in an interview, Ray told the journalist Raju Bharatan, ‘I can’t deal with these classical musicians. The Goans and the film musicians play exactly what I want. They know how to play for the footage.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“One day, Khansahib asked Yaman to get him a glass of water. When she brought it to him, he took one look at her hand and gently pushed her away. She was taken aback. ‘But, Abba …’ ‘It’s okay, I’ll get it myself.’ ‘But, Abba, what happened?’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘Abba, please, please don’t do this to me. I know you are upset. Please, please tell me what I did.’ ‘Your nails. How many times have I told you I don’t like to see long nails on my girls?’ The young Yaman sobbed in her room that night. Through her tears, she remembered the episode over her passport picture in London. She had cheated and worn lipstick for the picture. Her father looked at it, looked at her and said, ‘Sorry, you will not travel to Amsterdam with us.’ And she was left behind.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“When she went back for her first lesson, Dhondutai automatically greeted het teacher by touching her feet. Kesarbai held her shoulders, lifted her gently and said, "You are a Brahmin's daughter. There is no need for you to do that." But this was something Dhondutai would not compromise on- even though she knew that she and Kesarbai occupied two ends of the social order in which women were either 'good' or 'bad', respectable or indecent. These were labels that had been stuck on by men, by society, and Dhondutai would not fall into that trap.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Music Room

“Some of them worked under pseudonyms. For example, in the 1940s, a talented Punjabi percussionist called A.R. Qureshi left his post in All India Radio in Bombay to work full-time for Rangmahal Studios, where he spent at least fifteen years as music director and composed music for at least thirty films (including Bewafa, Khandaan and Alam Ara), working with major directors like Naushad and Avinash Vyas. But when this tabla master wore his classical hat and accompanied Ravi Shankar or Vilayat Khan on stage, he was Alla Rakha, the classical tabla ustad, who later became even more famous as the father of Zakir Hussain. Because of the miserable way he was treated in the film industry—made to wait for hours on end, not paid on time—he finally left it in 1958 and focused exclusively on classical music. This was the time when he did some breathtaking recordings and foreign concert tours with Ravi Shankar.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“Making tea is a lesson in life,' she said. 'You think that you;ve made the tea just because you've put the kettle on the pot and dumped tea leaves into it. But take a deeper look at what's going on. Actually, someone has grown the tea leaves, someone else has pruned them, some poor fellow put them into packages. Someone has milked a cow and another has pressed sugar cane to give you sugar. And it is thanks to the fire that you can boil your water. So what you have done is a small speck in the scheme of tea-making. Never feel undue pride, for there is much more unseen energy contributing to your so called achievement.”
― Namita Devidayal

“I have figured out a way to create a clamp on the outside where the spare tyre can be fixed. That way, we create more space inside.’ He had decided that he wanted to change the vehicle’s configuration so that it would carry more people as well as more luggage. Khansahib spent hours tinkering with the car until he came up with this solution. He also decided to add more shock absorbers, so that the entire car lifted up and looked like an absurd version of itself. Purvi stared at him in disbelief and realised that this was not going to be a morning of music. He had entered another space. But he was as engaged with the car, tuning it with complete concentration as if it were a musical instrument. She shrugged. Amazement had come to be a routine response to this extraordinary and unpredictable man, this human alloy of multiple talents.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“Less than an hour earlier, Vilayat had told Arvind about his bus ride from Mohammed Ali Road to Churchgate. He sat, as he always did, upstairs in the open-deck bus, right in front, an excellent vantage point from which to view the city he had started to love. As the bus cruised through the streets of Bombay, he started singing a tune in raga Desh to himself—rather loudly at one point, for a Parsi lady behind him turned to the bus conductor and said, ‘I think there is a mad man on our bus.’ The ‘mad man’ chuckled to himself. When it was time for him to get off, he stood up, walked past his crotchety co-passenger, then suddenly turned around, lurched at her and screamed ‘boo’. She shrieked in fright. He laughed his way down the aisle and scampered off the bus.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“At the mention of Ravi Shankar, the most famous sitarist in the West due mainly to his tutoring of George Harrison, Vilayat Khan was silent a moment, staring out of the window. ‘Shankar started very late …’ he said. ‘But in 1946, we all thought him a genius. But now … it is not the same. Perhaps he could come back if he stops the commercialisation.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“To understand and perform the raga in its true sense requires life-long meditation on the notes- and on yourself,' Dhondutai told me. 'Merely mastering the notes is not enough. You have to reflect on the human condition, on life itself. Everytime I sing a raga, it unfolds and expands revealing new insights and pathways. That is why they say that a musician really becomes a musician at the end of his life. It is only once you can use the notes to tell a greater story that you are floating in that bottomless ocean.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Music Room

“I never compromised on style; I never compromised in giving them anything un-Indian in a bid to please them. All I did was to reduce the duration. Instead of one or two ragas in two or three hours, I played maybe four ragas within two hours, with an intermission and explained to them the ascending and descending of a particular raga, what mood it creates, whether it belongs to the morning or evening, whether it belongs to spring or the rainy season and so forth. The result could be seen immediately. They could understand and accept our music.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“You have to be like the alligator. The same sharp teeth with which it carries its young babies are the ones with which it tears apart its prey. Bring that force into your hand—but be equally gentle when the situation demands it.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“I started with the first note, sa. On the first day, to my dismay, Dhondutai made me sing only the base note- the tonal pillar of Indian music which remains unchanged, constant, reliable, and stoically oblivious to the whims and fancies of the other notes. It is the foundation, the first and last note, the point at which the circle begins and ends. Within the boundaries of sa, one can play out all of life's dramas and moods. But every time one gets back to it, there is a sense of closure- like coming home after a long and exciting journey.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Music Room

“The most common cycle used is the sixteen beat cycle, called teentaal or tritaal. Dha dhin dhin dha. Dha dhin dhin dha. Dha tin tin ta. Ta dhin dhin dha…sixteen beats divided neatly into four times four. The sixteen-beat cycle starts and ends and stars and ends, creating a repetitive circularity; the melody has to accommodate itself within its scaffolding; it has to negotiate with the parameters to find a happy balance between freedom and responsibility, rights and duties, exhilaration and restraint. There is scope for risk-taking, within reason, as long as one came back to the line of control in time, and hit sama, the drum stroke where one cycle ended and the new one began; a point of arrival and of departure. This is a musical metaphor for life as it should be lived. Truly great musicians can swerve into unchartered bylanes, but still find their way back to the destination. On time”
― Namita Devidayal, The Music Room

“There are many colourful tales about the origins of Madan Mohan’s memorable song Mera Saya, which went on to haunt the nation. In one story, Vilayat Khan was giving a private concert at his student Prabhuddha Bhagat’s home in Khar and Madan Mohan was sitting in the front row, swaying to the music. He asked his buddy to play raga Nand. Every time he played the signature phrase, Madi applauded and burped a slurry ‘wah’. A few months later, the same tune found its way into the song Mera Saya. Vilayat Khan’s touch, and even his sitar, can be heard in the music of films like Madhosh and Dekh Kabira Roya. But notions of plagiarism did not afflict an artiste like Vilayat Khan who had himself been a hunter-gatherer of music and built his repertoire with help from the recordings of past masters. Besides, it is possible that he was so well established as a classical artiste that he didn’t really care about getting credit in the film world. It was his nephew Rais Khan who played regularly for Madan Mohan movies.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“Make the sound of your sa merge into the sa of the tanpura until both are one and you can't tell the difference,' said Dhondutai. 'Sa encompasses all the notes, just as white light contains all teh colours of the rainbow.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Music Room

“But the shadow of Ravi Shankar remained, and in America he made a valiant attempt to differentiate himself by emphasising that he was a purist. In an interview with a newspaper around that time he said, ‘Tradition should be modern but only to the point that it does not lose its identity … If there are chairs in my room, should I give up sitting on carpets?”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“Among the students who joined the Parsi Gayan Uttejak Mandali was Vishnu Narayan Bhatkhande, a young lawyer who was passionate about music. At the Mandali, he learnt hundreds of traditional compositions and also was exposed to different musical styles. Bhatkhande then did something extraordinary: he painstakingly gathered compositions from musicians all over India and devised a notation system, applying Western scientific systems of documenting knowledge to what had been an oral tradition.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“the Harivallabh Sangeet Sammelan in Jullunder, the All Bengal Music Conference in Calcutta, the Prayag Festival in Allahabad, the Shankarlal Festival in Delhi, the Haridas Sammelan in Bombay and Sawai Gandharva in Pune.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“Jagjit Singh told Vilayat Khan how the entire Granth Sahib is set to music. Each verse goes with a raga and there are thirty-one ragas in the book, starting with raga Jaijaiwanti, ending with raga Shri.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“By this time, Vilayat Khan had carefully cultivated a dual existence—that of the classical musician, unsurpassable in his talent, and that of a Westernised urban sophisticate who loved social soirees, especially if they were peppered with some debauchery. With equal ease, he mingled with film personalities, classical musicians and businesspersons, embracing the eclectic character of Bombay. He loved his custom-made three-piece suits and equally the kurtas embroidered by his wife. He smoked pipes, delighted in French colognes, played snooker and loved his card games.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan

“The music climate in India at this time was one in which many great classical artistes felt an unbelonging. Film music had become the predominant score. The passionate patrons who used to adulate classical musicians, secretly record them and covet the presence of these artistes in their homes, were a dying breed. In their place were concert organisers who relied on sponsorships and constantly had an eye on ticket sales. Popularity was integral to success. Bureaucrats made arbitrary decisions about awards and funding, and the music world was rife with politics. In contrast, audiences in Europe and America were growing more enthusiastic about Indian classical music. While a concert in India would pay Vilayat Khan among the highest rates, he could earn far more in London or Europe. Around the same time, a Hindi film playback singer would have been making several times the amount a classical artiste was paid. Vilayat Khan once said in an interview that film music and All India Radio’s overemphasis on light music ‘had corroded tastes’. He said that there were any number of glossy magazines dedicated to film stars, but not even one devoted to classical music and to making artistes more popular. It is likely that this uninspired climate pushed many Indian classical musicians to Europe and America, where they often found second wives, second careers and many adoring students. By this time, the Ali Akbar Khan School in California had become an enormous success. Zakir Hussain moved to the same area. Ravi Shankar lived in Los Angeles and started a school of music there. Many artistes found their way to Germany and the Netherlands where they were welcomed.”
― Namita Devidayal, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan