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Raga 'n Josh
Sheila Dhar's autobiographical stories, essays, and memoirs are classics of modern Indian prose. An accomplished singer, the world she inhabited included renowned north Indian classical musicians such as Begum Akhtar, Siddheshwari Bai, Fayyaz and Niaz Ahmed Khan, Kesar Bai Kerkar, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, and Bhimsen Joshi. No writer has ever conveyed the ethos of this world and the quirks of its denizens with such wit, irreverence, perceptiveness and empathy.
Sheila Dhar's writing straddles many worlds. Once a part of Delhi's political elite, she is inimitably observant about celebrities as diverse as Indira Gandhi, Joan Robinson, Richard Attenborough, and the Queen of Tonga. In other parts of this book she returns to the Old Delhi she grew up in – its sprawling bungalows, its labyrinthine households with their complicated domestic politics, its bygone musical ambience.
Incisive intelligence, comic effervescence, self-deprecating humour, and a fascinating ability to manipulate the English language for Indian contexts – all combine to make this book an absolute delight.
Praise for the book
‘… contains some of the most thoughtful, most perceptive, and certainly the funniest writing about Indian classical music that I have ever read’ – Amitav Ghosh
‘… very good reading. Nothing of the kind has been published before.’ – Khushwant Singh
Sheila Dhar's writing straddles many worlds. Once a part of Delhi's political elite, she is inimitably observant about celebrities as diverse as Indira Gandhi, Joan Robinson, Richard Attenborough, and the Queen of Tonga. In other parts of this book she returns to the Old Delhi she grew up in – its sprawling bungalows, its labyrinthine households with their complicated domestic politics, its bygone musical ambience.
Incisive intelligence, comic effervescence, self-deprecating humour, and a fascinating ability to manipulate the English language for Indian contexts – all combine to make this book an absolute delight.
Praise for the book
‘… contains some of the most thoughtful, most perceptive, and certainly the funniest writing about Indian classical music that I have ever read’ – Amitav Ghosh
‘… very good reading. Nothing of the kind has been published before.’ – Khushwant Singh
416 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
March 10, 2018
It is a book for those who might be interested in Indian culture, music, musicians, and Delhi, but it primarily focuses on great Indian singers of the 20th century and Dhar's association with them in different stages of her life. She comes from a wealthy business family and her father has always been in interested in music. He would often invite these great figures for extended stays in their civil lines Bungalow in north Delhi. This gave Dhar, in her childhood, ample opportunities to know these artists closely. As a child she began to take a deep interest in Indian classical music, there is no way that she could have remained unaffected by these precious gathering at her home where artists of immense talent not only performed but stayed.
While she mentions in detail four such artists, none of them is alive today, I am quite intrigued that someone has actually known the great Indian classical singer Bade Gulam Ali Khan in the way Dhar's family did. Hee is considered the best Indian classical singer ever, many also claim that some of his work is unrepeatable, what he could do with notes an ordinary singer cannot even imagine. Anyone who understands Indian classical music would be delighted to read anecdotes, as narrated by Dhar, of Khan's Sahib.
One of my other favorites singers in the book is Begum Akhtar. She has been an extraordinary singer, particularly famous for 'Ghazal gayki.' She was beautiful, reckless, always in love, now sad and then ecstatic, often generous and kind. She came from a family that had a quite dubious reputation in Indian society. In order to escape this, she wanted to marry a high caste lawyer. Even though she herself was rich and popular, but she sought 'respect' in society. The lawyer agreed to marry her but on a condition that she would not sing again. She happily agreed. But music ran in her blood. A couple of years later, this cruel restriction had a heavy toll on her health. Doctors advised her husband that she would die if he would not let her sing again. Fortunately, her husband consented. She recorded three 'ghazals' for All Indian Radio in 1967 and wept afterward. Her voice would, on rare occasions, crack during the renditions; while this is considered a flaw, connoisseurs of music took delight in these moments and call them exquisite. While there have been other great women singers, far more famous and sought after, but when it comes Ghazal gayaki, nobody could match her. She was one of those artists that one could talk and talk, and yet fail to unravel; both in regards to her art and life.
Food also plays an important part in the book. One sees how food is made and consumed, how it becomes such an integral part of childhood and even identity. The book has that quality which makes us love the place in which it is set. One who already knows the place knows it again and sees it again with wonder; one who does not know 'it,' is seduced to imagine it; this is what good writing does.
Since it is a memoir, we also get know of Dhar's life more intimately. She lived a happy life with her husband in Delhi, pursuing music, words, and histories. However, she regretted that her mother never lived a happy life because her father always thought of her as 'less' although he was friendly and kind to everybody else, he had ignored his wife throughout his life.
Life is sometimes funny. Dhar learned and pursued music all her life, it was her first passion. Many people who knew her well claim quite rigorously that her real talent lied in writing. This book clearly shows that she is an immensely gifted writer. However, she did not, unfortunately, pursue it with the same zeal she pursued music.
Reading this book and learning about artists of myriad persuasion, one can see how often writers unite people, how often artists succeed where politicians fail. And Fail they terribly.
While she mentions in detail four such artists, none of them is alive today, I am quite intrigued that someone has actually known the great Indian classical singer Bade Gulam Ali Khan in the way Dhar's family did. Hee is considered the best Indian classical singer ever, many also claim that some of his work is unrepeatable, what he could do with notes an ordinary singer cannot even imagine. Anyone who understands Indian classical music would be delighted to read anecdotes, as narrated by Dhar, of Khan's Sahib.
One of my other favorites singers in the book is Begum Akhtar. She has been an extraordinary singer, particularly famous for 'Ghazal gayki.' She was beautiful, reckless, always in love, now sad and then ecstatic, often generous and kind. She came from a family that had a quite dubious reputation in Indian society. In order to escape this, she wanted to marry a high caste lawyer. Even though she herself was rich and popular, but she sought 'respect' in society. The lawyer agreed to marry her but on a condition that she would not sing again. She happily agreed. But music ran in her blood. A couple of years later, this cruel restriction had a heavy toll on her health. Doctors advised her husband that she would die if he would not let her sing again. Fortunately, her husband consented. She recorded three 'ghazals' for All Indian Radio in 1967 and wept afterward. Her voice would, on rare occasions, crack during the renditions; while this is considered a flaw, connoisseurs of music took delight in these moments and call them exquisite. While there have been other great women singers, far more famous and sought after, but when it comes Ghazal gayaki, nobody could match her. She was one of those artists that one could talk and talk, and yet fail to unravel; both in regards to her art and life.
Food also plays an important part in the book. One sees how food is made and consumed, how it becomes such an integral part of childhood and even identity. The book has that quality which makes us love the place in which it is set. One who already knows the place knows it again and sees it again with wonder; one who does not know 'it,' is seduced to imagine it; this is what good writing does.
Since it is a memoir, we also get know of Dhar's life more intimately. She lived a happy life with her husband in Delhi, pursuing music, words, and histories. However, she regretted that her mother never lived a happy life because her father always thought of her as 'less' although he was friendly and kind to everybody else, he had ignored his wife throughout his life.
Life is sometimes funny. Dhar learned and pursued music all her life, it was her first passion. Many people who knew her well claim quite rigorously that her real talent lied in writing. This book clearly shows that she is an immensely gifted writer. However, she did not, unfortunately, pursue it with the same zeal she pursued music.
Reading this book and learning about artists of myriad persuasion, one can see how often writers unite people, how often artists succeed where politicians fail. And Fail they terribly.
June 28, 2020
The names of Begum Akhtar, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and other musicians peeking out of the pages made me pick up this dusty unsold copy at a stock clearance sale. That Sheila Dhar was the wife of P.N.Dhar, former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi's Principal Secretary during the emergency days, dawned on me later. I might not have picked it up, if I had known it earlier, for I tend to stay away from the personal writings of the elites for whom all doors open.
The first chapter 'Number Seven,Civil Lines', on her childhood days in the 1930s in their huge house, confirmed some of my fears. When she says "We come from a long line of British loyalists", one wonders whether she is being proud of it. Then there comes the recurring references to how things are in a particular way in the "mathur kayastha" community she belongs to. Yet, there was something delightful about her writing that made me persist with the book, which I am thankful for.
The house, frequented by musicians from across the region, was where she first picked up her musical lessons and also where she first began 'networking' with some of the greatest musicians of the time. Presiding over the 60 members of the household was her grandfather, who controlled every aspect of their life. His grip on her starts loosening only in the late teens, from the time she received a photo from actor Ashok Kumar, in response to a fan mail, a concept which the outdated grandfather couldn't wrap his head around.
She also paints a very unpleasant picture of her father, who constantly ignored his wife and kids, not even providing enough for the expenses, even as outside, he lavished his gifts on the poets and singers. Later, she gives a sort of explanation for the behaviour, pointing to the sudden death of his first wife and being forced into this arranged marriage. Her mother, about whom she writes poignantly, is a somewhat tragic figure.
The books really picks up pace, with rip-roaring accounts of the musicians, especially Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, who was hosted in a vegetarian household, when he came to Delhi for a concert. When the dishes arrived on the table, the Ustad "scowled at the unfamiliar food and lowered the large and rather shapeless thumb of his right hand into each bowl in turn, hoping against hope that it would encounter a piece of meat on a bone. When the thumb met no resistance and sank clean to the bottom of each bowl, right through thin gravies, the horrible truth dawned on him.”
"So you decided to cook every tree and every bush you could lay your hands on! Such music as mine and this food?", he thundered and proceeded to cook his own dinner, so that "every note than he sings has the aroma of kebabs". Then there are the parts about his reluctance to sing on radio and his various methods to avoid a recording at AIR. When the studio seemed unsuitable for him, they even set up a stage in the lawns for him, only for him to walk out on hearing a car's screeching horns from outside.
In contrast, Sarangi player Bundu Khan's story is a deeply moving one. As the "favourite outsider" of the family, who used to visit the household regularly, he was treated with much respect. He was so dedicated to the instrument that he devised a small sarangi for practise to perfect his finger techniques, while engaged in outside chores. During partition, he is shown to be reluctant to leave even after the family left to Pakistan. Dhar writes of the extents to which her father went to ensure a safe ride to him to Karachi, along with his large collection of sarangis.
Pran Nath, her classical music guru who spent months teaching one raga even as his students lost all patience, gets a few extra pages in her book. With the fascination of the whites for this "guruji", his move to the US was inevitable. Turned out, he morphed into an actual guru there, with a huge mansion and bhakts to serve him. Years later, Sheila gets to meet him again, during her stay in New York, and through him she too ends up garnering a few concerts and students.
Classical musician Siddeswari, about whom my only knowledge till now is an old documentary by Mani Kaul, gets a humorous tribute, on her trip to London. She so wished to have an overseas concert tour, which Dhar arranges, but she ends up cancelling it as soon as it began, mortified by the ways of the whites, from using tissue papers to bathing in tubs.
A piece on the Harballabh music festival, one of the oldest classical music festivals in the country, held during the biting wintry cold in Punjab, has a drunken Bhimsen Joshi walking on to the stage while the sitar player Rais Khan, who opens for him is in full flow. When the audience go into a rapture, Rais mistakes it to be for his exquisite playing. Yet, Bhimsen Joshi's own performance turns out to be an anti-climax, when he passes out on the stage, a rather gloomy scene which is hilariously written.
Dhar had travelled all the way to the festival, for her own performance, but she writes self-deprecatingly of her. After her performance, the wife and relatives of one of the organisers walks up to her and compliments her. Even as she basks in all the adulation, they reveal the reason for their compliments - "for her well-fed looks, compared to the weak woman who sang the night before". The weak woman happens to be the legendary Gangubai Hangal, thus shattering all illusions for Dhar in a single stroke.
Sections of the book are dedicated to the other part of life, as an employee of the publication division. Mohan Rao, her boss there, whom she refers to as the cent-percent Gandhian gets some uproariously funny parts. Especially, Richard Attenborugh's visit ahead of the making of Gandhi, and the confusions that follow.
'Cat among the bureaucrats' is an accurate portrayal of official file circulation in Government offices. What begins as an innocuous letter by a newly appointed 'business manager' to higher ups on the depleting copies of Mahatma Gandhi's original works due to the rodent problem at the publication division, turns into months-long back and forth exchanges, during which the file fattens and a cat becomes a Government servant.
Another section is of the happenings while accompanying her husband P.N.Dhar on official dinners and the rather respectful tales on Indira Gandhi. But the best certainly is the farewell song to Lady Linlithgow, the Viceroy’s wife, improvised by a Carnatic singer. He sings 'Linlithgow go go go', repeating the words as he improvises the raga, prompting the lady to tell her escort - "the gentleman seems to be overly insistent on our departure". When the message was finally conveyed to the singer, he improvised "lay dee..deelay deelay laydeee", musically requesting her to delay her departure.
PS – Yes. The book is about music and life in the officialdom. But the fact that the writing span from the 1930s to the 1990s or so, and does not speak a word on the independence movement, the partition or the emergency, speaks volumes of the strata she occupied. For someone who was so close to the officialdom, these are some glaring omissions.
The first chapter 'Number Seven,Civil Lines', on her childhood days in the 1930s in their huge house, confirmed some of my fears. When she says "We come from a long line of British loyalists", one wonders whether she is being proud of it. Then there comes the recurring references to how things are in a particular way in the "mathur kayastha" community she belongs to. Yet, there was something delightful about her writing that made me persist with the book, which I am thankful for.
The house, frequented by musicians from across the region, was where she first picked up her musical lessons and also where she first began 'networking' with some of the greatest musicians of the time. Presiding over the 60 members of the household was her grandfather, who controlled every aspect of their life. His grip on her starts loosening only in the late teens, from the time she received a photo from actor Ashok Kumar, in response to a fan mail, a concept which the outdated grandfather couldn't wrap his head around.
She also paints a very unpleasant picture of her father, who constantly ignored his wife and kids, not even providing enough for the expenses, even as outside, he lavished his gifts on the poets and singers. Later, she gives a sort of explanation for the behaviour, pointing to the sudden death of his first wife and being forced into this arranged marriage. Her mother, about whom she writes poignantly, is a somewhat tragic figure.
The books really picks up pace, with rip-roaring accounts of the musicians, especially Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, who was hosted in a vegetarian household, when he came to Delhi for a concert. When the dishes arrived on the table, the Ustad "scowled at the unfamiliar food and lowered the large and rather shapeless thumb of his right hand into each bowl in turn, hoping against hope that it would encounter a piece of meat on a bone. When the thumb met no resistance and sank clean to the bottom of each bowl, right through thin gravies, the horrible truth dawned on him.”
"So you decided to cook every tree and every bush you could lay your hands on! Such music as mine and this food?", he thundered and proceeded to cook his own dinner, so that "every note than he sings has the aroma of kebabs". Then there are the parts about his reluctance to sing on radio and his various methods to avoid a recording at AIR. When the studio seemed unsuitable for him, they even set up a stage in the lawns for him, only for him to walk out on hearing a car's screeching horns from outside.
In contrast, Sarangi player Bundu Khan's story is a deeply moving one. As the "favourite outsider" of the family, who used to visit the household regularly, he was treated with much respect. He was so dedicated to the instrument that he devised a small sarangi for practise to perfect his finger techniques, while engaged in outside chores. During partition, he is shown to be reluctant to leave even after the family left to Pakistan. Dhar writes of the extents to which her father went to ensure a safe ride to him to Karachi, along with his large collection of sarangis.
Pran Nath, her classical music guru who spent months teaching one raga even as his students lost all patience, gets a few extra pages in her book. With the fascination of the whites for this "guruji", his move to the US was inevitable. Turned out, he morphed into an actual guru there, with a huge mansion and bhakts to serve him. Years later, Sheila gets to meet him again, during her stay in New York, and through him she too ends up garnering a few concerts and students.
Classical musician Siddeswari, about whom my only knowledge till now is an old documentary by Mani Kaul, gets a humorous tribute, on her trip to London. She so wished to have an overseas concert tour, which Dhar arranges, but she ends up cancelling it as soon as it began, mortified by the ways of the whites, from using tissue papers to bathing in tubs.
A piece on the Harballabh music festival, one of the oldest classical music festivals in the country, held during the biting wintry cold in Punjab, has a drunken Bhimsen Joshi walking on to the stage while the sitar player Rais Khan, who opens for him is in full flow. When the audience go into a rapture, Rais mistakes it to be for his exquisite playing. Yet, Bhimsen Joshi's own performance turns out to be an anti-climax, when he passes out on the stage, a rather gloomy scene which is hilariously written.
Dhar had travelled all the way to the festival, for her own performance, but she writes self-deprecatingly of her. After her performance, the wife and relatives of one of the organisers walks up to her and compliments her. Even as she basks in all the adulation, they reveal the reason for their compliments - "for her well-fed looks, compared to the weak woman who sang the night before". The weak woman happens to be the legendary Gangubai Hangal, thus shattering all illusions for Dhar in a single stroke.
Sections of the book are dedicated to the other part of life, as an employee of the publication division. Mohan Rao, her boss there, whom she refers to as the cent-percent Gandhian gets some uproariously funny parts. Especially, Richard Attenborugh's visit ahead of the making of Gandhi, and the confusions that follow.
'Cat among the bureaucrats' is an accurate portrayal of official file circulation in Government offices. What begins as an innocuous letter by a newly appointed 'business manager' to higher ups on the depleting copies of Mahatma Gandhi's original works due to the rodent problem at the publication division, turns into months-long back and forth exchanges, during which the file fattens and a cat becomes a Government servant.
Another section is of the happenings while accompanying her husband P.N.Dhar on official dinners and the rather respectful tales on Indira Gandhi. But the best certainly is the farewell song to Lady Linlithgow, the Viceroy’s wife, improvised by a Carnatic singer. He sings 'Linlithgow go go go', repeating the words as he improvises the raga, prompting the lady to tell her escort - "the gentleman seems to be overly insistent on our departure". When the message was finally conveyed to the singer, he improvised "lay dee..deelay deelay laydeee", musically requesting her to delay her departure.
PS – Yes. The book is about music and life in the officialdom. But the fact that the writing span from the 1930s to the 1990s or so, and does not speak a word on the independence movement, the partition or the emergency, speaks volumes of the strata she occupied. For someone who was so close to the officialdom, these are some glaring omissions.
September 8, 2012
By Sheila Dhar. Grade: A
To say that I am not a good singer would be like calling Grand Canyon “a little big”. So when I first received the review copy, I assumed – albeit wrongly – that it would contain boring essays on Hindustani music, a topic that doesn’t interest me much. Or hadn’t, until this book came along and changed my perception entirely.
Sheila Dhar’s autobiographical stories, essays, and memoirs are classics of modern Indian prose. An accomplished singer, the world she inhabited included renowned north Indian classical musicians such as Begum Akhtar, Siddheshwari Bai, Fayyaz and Niaz Ahmed Khan, Kesar Bai Kerkar, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, and Bhimsen Joshi. No writer has ever conveyed the ethos of this world and the quirks of its denizens with such wit, irreverence, perceptiveness and empathy.
Sheila Dhar’s writing straddles many worlds. Once a part of Delhi’s political elite, she is inimitably observant about celebrities as diverse as Indira Gandhi, Joan Robinson, Richard Attenborough, and the Queen of Tonga. In other parts of this book she returns to the Old Delhi she grew up in-its sprawling bungalows, its labyrinthine households with their complicated domestic politics, its bygone musical ambience.
Many of these writings have been unavailable or out of print for some time. The present book provides, for the first time within the covers of a single volume, Sheila Dhar’s collected shorter writings, including all of her memorable stories and essays.
Incisive intelligence, comic effervescence, self-deprecating humour, and a fascinating ability to manipulate the English language for Indian contexts-all combine to make this book an absolute delight.
In her book Raga’n Josh – Stories from a Musical Life, the author combines her two earlier books “Here’s Someone I’d Like You to Meet” and “The Cooking of Music and Other Essays”, she writes about her interactions with bureaucrats and musicians, about her experience listening to some of the great masters of Hindustani Classical music and about her own thoughts on Indian Classical Music and the changes it has gone through during her times as a classical singer.
As I believe I have mentioned before, I know next to nothing about any kind of music. I enjoy listening to it, but if somebody had the gall to ask me about Hindustani music, I would be nonplussed. I expected that to detract me from the story. Huge parts of it are dedicated to the study of classical music, and it is perhaps the only connecting link between the myriad essays. To my utter and delightful surprise – it didn’t. The reason was simple.
For a person whose forte is supposed to be music, she sure knows how to make words dance to her tune.
She looked at life from a different angle, and put it so simply that sometimes one may pass it without fully comprehending the little nugget of gold. Her acute perceptiveness about foibles of character and the nuances of situational atmosphere are very obvious throughout the entire novel.
Page after page, the author offers us enchanting moments, suspended in semi eternity. She has talked about the fads, eccentricities and the inherent humanness of people who have been larger than life without any trace of malice or jargon of pretentiousness. Sometimes they make you laugh out loud in unbelievable hilarity, and sometimes they put a lump in your throat.
She creates and recreates, captures and recaptures the memory of pure emotion, the resonance of a raga, the idiosyncrasy of a great artist, and much more, with enormous sensitivity, inspired wit and originality. The vibrations linger and linger. She talks about her achievements in very much the same tone she recounts her failures. Her little vignettes of life in bureaucracy were especially delightful. The book is a perfect mix of iconoclastic observation with an insider’s casually deep knowledge of music-making in north India.
Despite this, the best part about this book was undoubtedly the two obituaries of the author. I read them before I began the book, and their perception made me fall in love with the author before I read a word by her.
If you’re looking for a good memoir, then this one’s perfect for you.
Originally reviewed at www.vaultofbooks.com
To say that I am not a good singer would be like calling Grand Canyon “a little big”. So when I first received the review copy, I assumed – albeit wrongly – that it would contain boring essays on Hindustani music, a topic that doesn’t interest me much. Or hadn’t, until this book came along and changed my perception entirely.
Sheila Dhar’s autobiographical stories, essays, and memoirs are classics of modern Indian prose. An accomplished singer, the world she inhabited included renowned north Indian classical musicians such as Begum Akhtar, Siddheshwari Bai, Fayyaz and Niaz Ahmed Khan, Kesar Bai Kerkar, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, and Bhimsen Joshi. No writer has ever conveyed the ethos of this world and the quirks of its denizens with such wit, irreverence, perceptiveness and empathy.
Sheila Dhar’s writing straddles many worlds. Once a part of Delhi’s political elite, she is inimitably observant about celebrities as diverse as Indira Gandhi, Joan Robinson, Richard Attenborough, and the Queen of Tonga. In other parts of this book she returns to the Old Delhi she grew up in-its sprawling bungalows, its labyrinthine households with their complicated domestic politics, its bygone musical ambience.
Many of these writings have been unavailable or out of print for some time. The present book provides, for the first time within the covers of a single volume, Sheila Dhar’s collected shorter writings, including all of her memorable stories and essays.
Incisive intelligence, comic effervescence, self-deprecating humour, and a fascinating ability to manipulate the English language for Indian contexts-all combine to make this book an absolute delight.
In her book Raga’n Josh – Stories from a Musical Life, the author combines her two earlier books “Here’s Someone I’d Like You to Meet” and “The Cooking of Music and Other Essays”, she writes about her interactions with bureaucrats and musicians, about her experience listening to some of the great masters of Hindustani Classical music and about her own thoughts on Indian Classical Music and the changes it has gone through during her times as a classical singer.
As I believe I have mentioned before, I know next to nothing about any kind of music. I enjoy listening to it, but if somebody had the gall to ask me about Hindustani music, I would be nonplussed. I expected that to detract me from the story. Huge parts of it are dedicated to the study of classical music, and it is perhaps the only connecting link between the myriad essays. To my utter and delightful surprise – it didn’t. The reason was simple.
For a person whose forte is supposed to be music, she sure knows how to make words dance to her tune.
She looked at life from a different angle, and put it so simply that sometimes one may pass it without fully comprehending the little nugget of gold. Her acute perceptiveness about foibles of character and the nuances of situational atmosphere are very obvious throughout the entire novel.
Page after page, the author offers us enchanting moments, suspended in semi eternity. She has talked about the fads, eccentricities and the inherent humanness of people who have been larger than life without any trace of malice or jargon of pretentiousness. Sometimes they make you laugh out loud in unbelievable hilarity, and sometimes they put a lump in your throat.
She creates and recreates, captures and recaptures the memory of pure emotion, the resonance of a raga, the idiosyncrasy of a great artist, and much more, with enormous sensitivity, inspired wit and originality. The vibrations linger and linger. She talks about her achievements in very much the same tone she recounts her failures. Her little vignettes of life in bureaucracy were especially delightful. The book is a perfect mix of iconoclastic observation with an insider’s casually deep knowledge of music-making in north India.
Despite this, the best part about this book was undoubtedly the two obituaries of the author. I read them before I began the book, and their perception made me fall in love with the author before I read a word by her.
If you’re looking for a good memoir, then this one’s perfect for you.
Originally reviewed at www.vaultofbooks.com
May 7, 2007
This is a book that combines both of Sheila Dhar's books
1. Here's someone I would Like you to meet
2. Cooking of Music and Other Essays
I have read the first one of the two books and just commenced reading the second book. Therefore this review is only on the first book.
For those who do not know of Sheila Dhar, she was a minor classical musician, who also was the wife of PN Dhar, Indira Gandhi's principal secretary for a while.
Sheila Dhar has a way with words,an eye for detail and a sense of wit that brings alive her subjects, some of who are rather ordinary, rather vividly.
She starts of with recollections of her childhood and moves on to a whole lot of interesting people she met in the course of her life as a musician, as an employee of the government publications department and because of her husband.
The stories of her childhood are more descriptive in nature and she has been rather honest about the relationship between her mother and father (which was non-existent). Despite this she seems to be able to find it in her to write without bitterness about either her childhood and her father.
She then moves on to her own journey as a musician. Here she comes into her own as she describes various musicians that she has interacted with, capturing not their music but their essence as human beings through some rather funny tales whether it be a drunk Bhimsen Joshi at a music festival or Siddheshwari Devi's travails with bathrooms in a western country. In the course of these stories one also learns how she herself overcame her initial hiccups and matured into a classical singer.
Her stories on her work with the publications department are very amusing expecially the one where she talks about her boss, Mohan Rao. Particularly funny is the meeting of Mr Rao with Richard Attenborough, when the director comes to India for Gandhi, the movie.
The funniest story though for me is when she has to entertain the wife of one of her husband's colleagues Mrs Henderson. The descriptions of Rabindra Sangeet and South INdian classical music are hilarious.
All in all a little known book that deserves to be read by more people.
1. Here's someone I would Like you to meet
2. Cooking of Music and Other Essays
I have read the first one of the two books and just commenced reading the second book. Therefore this review is only on the first book.
For those who do not know of Sheila Dhar, she was a minor classical musician, who also was the wife of PN Dhar, Indira Gandhi's principal secretary for a while.
Sheila Dhar has a way with words,an eye for detail and a sense of wit that brings alive her subjects, some of who are rather ordinary, rather vividly.
She starts of with recollections of her childhood and moves on to a whole lot of interesting people she met in the course of her life as a musician, as an employee of the government publications department and because of her husband.
The stories of her childhood are more descriptive in nature and she has been rather honest about the relationship between her mother and father (which was non-existent). Despite this she seems to be able to find it in her to write without bitterness about either her childhood and her father.
She then moves on to her own journey as a musician. Here she comes into her own as she describes various musicians that she has interacted with, capturing not their music but their essence as human beings through some rather funny tales whether it be a drunk Bhimsen Joshi at a music festival or Siddheshwari Devi's travails with bathrooms in a western country. In the course of these stories one also learns how she herself overcame her initial hiccups and matured into a classical singer.
Her stories on her work with the publications department are very amusing expecially the one where she talks about her boss, Mohan Rao. Particularly funny is the meeting of Mr Rao with Richard Attenborough, when the director comes to India for Gandhi, the movie.
The funniest story though for me is when she has to entertain the wife of one of her husband's colleagues Mrs Henderson. The descriptions of Rabindra Sangeet and South INdian classical music are hilarious.
All in all a little known book that deserves to be read by more people.
Want to read
January 17, 2009from wikipedia:
Sheila Dhar (1929–2001) obtained her MA in English from Boston University. The passion of her life was Hindustani classical music, which she performed and wrote about with much insight and wit. She served on the board of the Sangeet Natak Akademi and was advisor for music to the Indian Council of Cultural Relations.
Married to the economist P. N. Dhar, she also had occasion to observe the workings of India’s bureaucracy and political leaders.
February 13, 2023
https://cosyreadingniche.wordpress.co...
Vidushi Sheila Dhar writes about Ustad Bundu Khan, when the simple unworldly Sarangi maestro was lying in the courtyard outside their house one day, playing his sarangi:
‘It is spring time, and I was playing for the flowers’, he said in complete explanation. The sweetpeas were indeed in full bloom and that morning, for all of us, and for ever, the perfume of these flowers became a part of Raga Bahar, which he had been playing on this occasion.
This book taught me a lot of things, the first of which is the hypocrisy of my own expectations. I always lament the lack, in Hindustani music, of musicians who can express themselves well in words, the loss of any written evidence of their approach to music or their thought process. At the same time, I am wary of reading privileged upper-class authors, who would likely be out of touch with the reality of ordinary Indians. My hypocrisy lies in the fact that the Indian classical music tradition is pretty elitist, and musicians from humble backgrounds are not educated enough to write well, so I am never going to have my cake and eat it too.
Therefore, I was skeptical initially when I picked it up. The very first chapter talks about her family coming from a long line of British loyalists and her upbringing in the upper-class Mathur Kayastha community. The author probably wrote this while comfortably cushioned in the courtyards of Lutyens Delhi, shielded from the day-to-day vagaries and struggles of ordinary Indians. At the same time, I was glad to have finally found an Indian musician who could wield the pen so well! The reconciliation for me was when the author introduced Bundu Khan and shared personal anecdotes like the one above.
In this entire collection of essays, Sheila Dhar is just a fly on the wall. She is modest and diminutive about her own prowess as a musician. She is that grandma who was happy to be the keen observer in her youth and relays fascinating anecdotes once she gets old. And she is both a keen observer and witty writer! She made me laugh so many times.
An instance is when Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan(BGAK), a vociferous carnivore, was made to stay at a neighbor's house who cooked a fully vegetarian meal for him. He dipped his finger into each curry in front of him, in the hope that it would detect some meat. He then exclaimed (I'm paraphrasing) "Did you cook every bush and leaf you could get your hands on?! How can I sing if I eat this? Every note I sing has the aroma of kebabs" and goes on to direct the cooks and attendants, and makes a chicken curry himself.
Another example is the Harballabh music festival, where the day before the performances, Mrs. Dhar meets Bhimsen Joshi, who introduces his wife as "my jailor", because she is concerned about his drinking. He is bitter that she's decided to tag along on what could have been a few days of "party"-ing. Hilarity ensures the next day when a drunk Bhimsen Joshi enters onto the stage while Ust. Rais Khan is still performing, and Rais Khan mistakes the audience's reaction to Panditji as applause for his Sitar-playing.
The author does not mince words about anyone, even though her love and adoration for her gurus as well as musical contemporaries comes across despite her occasional roasts. She does not spare herself either, and there are several occasions where her self-deprecating humor shines. Through this book, I think Sheila Dhar invented the only format of an autobiography I will read without cringing at self-praise, because there is little to none of that in there.
For a Hindustani music aficionado/student, this book is a valuable read. Fore someone who loves food or cooking or culinary books, she loves her music-is-like-cooking metaphors. For someone who is not into either, you might want to skip the first few chapters of Part II, which focus on the more technical musical aspects, but you'll enjoy everything else.
Vidushi Sheila Dhar writes about Ustad Bundu Khan, when the simple unworldly Sarangi maestro was lying in the courtyard outside their house one day, playing his sarangi:
‘It is spring time, and I was playing for the flowers’, he said in complete explanation. The sweetpeas were indeed in full bloom and that morning, for all of us, and for ever, the perfume of these flowers became a part of Raga Bahar, which he had been playing on this occasion.
This book taught me a lot of things, the first of which is the hypocrisy of my own expectations. I always lament the lack, in Hindustani music, of musicians who can express themselves well in words, the loss of any written evidence of their approach to music or their thought process. At the same time, I am wary of reading privileged upper-class authors, who would likely be out of touch with the reality of ordinary Indians. My hypocrisy lies in the fact that the Indian classical music tradition is pretty elitist, and musicians from humble backgrounds are not educated enough to write well, so I am never going to have my cake and eat it too.
Therefore, I was skeptical initially when I picked it up. The very first chapter talks about her family coming from a long line of British loyalists and her upbringing in the upper-class Mathur Kayastha community. The author probably wrote this while comfortably cushioned in the courtyards of Lutyens Delhi, shielded from the day-to-day vagaries and struggles of ordinary Indians. At the same time, I was glad to have finally found an Indian musician who could wield the pen so well! The reconciliation for me was when the author introduced Bundu Khan and shared personal anecdotes like the one above.
In this entire collection of essays, Sheila Dhar is just a fly on the wall. She is modest and diminutive about her own prowess as a musician. She is that grandma who was happy to be the keen observer in her youth and relays fascinating anecdotes once she gets old. And she is both a keen observer and witty writer! She made me laugh so many times.
An instance is when Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan(BGAK), a vociferous carnivore, was made to stay at a neighbor's house who cooked a fully vegetarian meal for him. He dipped his finger into each curry in front of him, in the hope that it would detect some meat. He then exclaimed (I'm paraphrasing) "Did you cook every bush and leaf you could get your hands on?! How can I sing if I eat this? Every note I sing has the aroma of kebabs" and goes on to direct the cooks and attendants, and makes a chicken curry himself.
Another example is the Harballabh music festival, where the day before the performances, Mrs. Dhar meets Bhimsen Joshi, who introduces his wife as "my jailor", because she is concerned about his drinking. He is bitter that she's decided to tag along on what could have been a few days of "party"-ing. Hilarity ensures the next day when a drunk Bhimsen Joshi enters onto the stage while Ust. Rais Khan is still performing, and Rais Khan mistakes the audience's reaction to Panditji as applause for his Sitar-playing.
The author does not mince words about anyone, even though her love and adoration for her gurus as well as musical contemporaries comes across despite her occasional roasts. She does not spare herself either, and there are several occasions where her self-deprecating humor shines. Through this book, I think Sheila Dhar invented the only format of an autobiography I will read without cringing at self-praise, because there is little to none of that in there.
For a Hindustani music aficionado/student, this book is a valuable read. Fore someone who loves food or cooking or culinary books, she loves her music-is-like-cooking metaphors. For someone who is not into either, you might want to skip the first few chapters of Part II, which focus on the more technical musical aspects, but you'll enjoy everything else.
April 21, 2023
I was vaguely familiar with Shiela Dhar's name (and fame) and accidentally came across a recording of her wonderful rendition of one of my favourite raags - Mian Ki Malhar.
Thereafter, my acquired her Raga 'n Josh as well as Here's Someone I'd Like You To Meet, without realizing that the contents of the latter were included in the former! I have read these and shared them with afficionados of Indian classical music in my circle.
Coming from a very privileged background, Shiela does not "flaunt" her entitled status (or that of her husband and other members of her illustrious family) other than en passant. Her writing opened up a lovely window into the world of the Mathur Kayastha families and life of "the Civil Lines crowd" in Delhi.
She brings some of the many classical music legends to life up close and "in person". Great narrative style and disclosure of their character without being overly obtrusive or sensational - the hallmark of a true diplomat and a sensitive human!
These are works of history and a must-read for people who have an interest in Indian classical music, beyond just listening to and appreciating good compositions.
Thereafter, my acquired her Raga 'n Josh as well as Here's Someone I'd Like You To Meet, without realizing that the contents of the latter were included in the former! I have read these and shared them with afficionados of Indian classical music in my circle.
Coming from a very privileged background, Shiela does not "flaunt" her entitled status (or that of her husband and other members of her illustrious family) other than en passant. Her writing opened up a lovely window into the world of the Mathur Kayastha families and life of "the Civil Lines crowd" in Delhi.
She brings some of the many classical music legends to life up close and "in person". Great narrative style and disclosure of their character without being overly obtrusive or sensational - the hallmark of a true diplomat and a sensitive human!
These are works of history and a must-read for people who have an interest in Indian classical music, beyond just listening to and appreciating good compositions.
August 15, 2025
Raga’n Josh by Sheila Dhar is a warm, witty, and utterly engaging look into the world of Hindustani classical music. What makes it so special is that Dhar writes not as an outsider chronicling facts, but as someone who has lived in the thick of it—trained in music herself, surrounded by musicians, and steeped in the culture. That lived experience makes her observations sharp, affectionate, and deeply credible.
The book is rich in anecdotes—sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, often quietly revealing—that strip away the formality around the greats of Hindustani classical. Bade Ghulam Ali Khan’s culinary whims, Bhimsen Joshi’s love for drink, the sidelining of women in a male-dominated world—Dhar approaches them all with a light touch. There’s never mockery, only a mix of humor and empathy that makes these figures feel alive and human.
What could have been dry or overly technical is instead breezy and accessible, even for someone like me who loves the music but isn’t versed in its intricacies. Alongside the humour, Dhar captures the nuances of styles like thumri and ghazal, and the shifting attitudes toward them over time. It’s a book that leaves you entertained, informed, and unexpectedly moved—a must-read for anyone curious about the history and personalities that shaped Hindustani classical music.
The book is rich in anecdotes—sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, often quietly revealing—that strip away the formality around the greats of Hindustani classical. Bade Ghulam Ali Khan’s culinary whims, Bhimsen Joshi’s love for drink, the sidelining of women in a male-dominated world—Dhar approaches them all with a light touch. There’s never mockery, only a mix of humor and empathy that makes these figures feel alive and human.
What could have been dry or overly technical is instead breezy and accessible, even for someone like me who loves the music but isn’t versed in its intricacies. Alongside the humour, Dhar captures the nuances of styles like thumri and ghazal, and the shifting attitudes toward them over time. It’s a book that leaves you entertained, informed, and unexpectedly moved—a must-read for anyone curious about the history and personalities that shaped Hindustani classical music.
March 17, 2023
I don't know how good a singer Shiela Dhar is, but I do know she is an amazing raconteur. The memoir of a person who moved in a circle where doors opened could have been deary, but she brought the people she describes alive. She had the privilege of being close to many of the musical legends of her time, but the portraits she paints are not of geniuses, but of real human beings who one can start to love.
The second section with essays on Hindustani classical music gave an astute perspective of how the musical scene changed during her lifetime. Though she misses the old days, she sees some good in the new too.
Would I have loved the book as much as I did had I not been learning dance myself? Hard to tell. Some parts do require a basic understanding of the theory of music. But most of it is just stories being told by a people watcher with a sense of humour.
The second section with essays on Hindustani classical music gave an astute perspective of how the musical scene changed during her lifetime. Though she misses the old days, she sees some good in the new too.
Would I have loved the book as much as I did had I not been learning dance myself? Hard to tell. Some parts do require a basic understanding of the theory of music. But most of it is just stories being told by a people watcher with a sense of humour.
January 1, 2026
A very well written book. Sometimes the anecdotes weren't necessarily related to music but even so, they were enjoyable to read. Sheila ji excels at transforming complex musical tales and culturally rich events into vivid, accessible expressions. Her narration immerses the listener so deeply that one can almost stand within the scene she describes and experience its emotions firsthand.
July 8, 2019
"Raga n Josh" by Sheila Dhar is two books rolled into one. The first book is an entertaining account of a upper class Delhi Mathur Kayasth upbringing and her adventures in Indian music and dealing with Hindustani musicians, as well as belonging to the elite Delhi circle around Mrs. Indira Gandhi.
The second book is much more serious, constituting a treatise on listening and appreciating Indian classical music; and her thoughts on it's democratic future, where much is being simultaneously gained and lost. This part will inspire you to listen to Indian classical music much more attentively and appreciate it's richness and beauty.
It is in turns sad and rollickingly hilarious, sketching out her family background, then going to the character and foibles of many famous Hindustani musicians and the people they interacted with. I liked the sketches of Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, Begum Akhtar and Siddheshwari Devi. The sketches are sharp, without being malicious - she clearly loved the musicians and their craft, but also understood them as humans.
She was a gifted raconteur with an ear for both music and accents. The chapter on the early visit by David Attenborough to get approvals for "Gandhi" and his dealings with her boss, Mohan Rao, is very funny. You get an impression of a fun-loving, egalitarian and adventurous person who is passionate about the good life filled with lively people, food and music.
The second book is much more serious, constituting a treatise on listening and appreciating Indian classical music; and her thoughts on it's democratic future, where much is being simultaneously gained and lost. This part will inspire you to listen to Indian classical music much more attentively and appreciate it's richness and beauty.
It is in turns sad and rollickingly hilarious, sketching out her family background, then going to the character and foibles of many famous Hindustani musicians and the people they interacted with. I liked the sketches of Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, Begum Akhtar and Siddheshwari Devi. The sketches are sharp, without being malicious - she clearly loved the musicians and their craft, but also understood them as humans.
She was a gifted raconteur with an ear for both music and accents. The chapter on the early visit by David Attenborough to get approvals for "Gandhi" and his dealings with her boss, Mohan Rao, is very funny. You get an impression of a fun-loving, egalitarian and adventurous person who is passionate about the good life filled with lively people, food and music.
November 2, 2014
I have always been curious about Indian classical music. Often wondered about this great legacy from our times past. I have received no training in this esoteric art to be able to completely appreciate it, but I have always had a healthy respect for this type of music and its practioners. After all, one can not ignore the fact that classical music is the result of hundreds of years of dedicated labors of so many practitioners. In essence, classical music has come to mean excellence in music.
Before the advent of the omnipresent television channels, when All India Radio ruled the roost, Hindustani or Carnatic music was what they usaully broadcast towards the end of their morning programs. The start of the alaap would usually be the signal to most people to turn off the radio sets.
After listening to light, popular kind of music for years, only in recent years I have opened my ears to the classical music. The experience has been sort of cathartic! Almost everyday these days I turn to classical to calm the nerves jangled by the noise from the traffic.
When I recently came across this book with the rather quaint title, I was drawn to it. The book definitely threw some light on the history of Hindustani classical music and also on the lives and motivations of some of the luminaries of this genre from the twentieth century. The title of the book is a play on the non-vegetarian dish "Ragonjosh". As you will find in more than one story in the book, some of our great hindustani musicians were connoisseurs of good food too.
The book written by Sheila Dhar, herself a trained classical musician, breathes music from the first page to the last. Yet, the wonderful way in which the stories are narrated makes the book more than just a book on music. She writes about the time when she was sixteen, when she was asked by her father to receive Bade Ghulam Ali Khan at the station and to escort him and his accompanists to the house of his host, and fetch them to the concert hall after they had refreshed themselves and had their dinner. The hosts happened to be vegetarians. The maestro could not stomach the sight of this unfamiliar food. He exploded: "Do you think I can sing the way I do if I have to feed on grasses swimming in fluids of various kinds? Every note I sing has the aroma of kebabs." Sheila then describes how everyone ran helter-skelter to prepare a meal consisting ofa rich chicken curry.
Writing about music is writing about an experience, and Sheila displays a huge talent in the way she describes music without any jargon or pretentiousness. From Pandith Pran Nath, for example, she learnt to think about ragas in terms of colors. "It was natural for him to dive into the dark depths of early morning ragas like Lalit and Bhairava, where there was no sun. Sometimes we would hear the greys and dusky ochres of twilight ragas like Puriya and Marwa, the midnight blue of magical and mysterious ragas like Malkauns, and even the restrained gold of the majestic and courtly Darbari."
In Chapter Twenty Four, titled "The New Face of Listening" the author comments about the changing dynamics of the classical music performance and listening. She talks about the perception of silence and how it has changed. Her observations are poignant. "The portrait of a raga" she says, "was thought to consist of unbroken melodic lines drawn on the canvas of silence". According to her, the gradual erosion of silence by ever increasing noise levels is the single important change that has come about in the music world in the last fifty years.
At one place in the book the author lists the following as the most attractive attrributes of Indian classical music - grace and romanticism, purity and restraint, depth and serenity. I am sure it would not be amiss to use some of these same attributes to describe this beautiful book.
http://roots-n-wings.blogspot.in/2012...
Before the advent of the omnipresent television channels, when All India Radio ruled the roost, Hindustani or Carnatic music was what they usaully broadcast towards the end of their morning programs. The start of the alaap would usually be the signal to most people to turn off the radio sets.
After listening to light, popular kind of music for years, only in recent years I have opened my ears to the classical music. The experience has been sort of cathartic! Almost everyday these days I turn to classical to calm the nerves jangled by the noise from the traffic.
When I recently came across this book with the rather quaint title, I was drawn to it. The book definitely threw some light on the history of Hindustani classical music and also on the lives and motivations of some of the luminaries of this genre from the twentieth century. The title of the book is a play on the non-vegetarian dish "Ragonjosh". As you will find in more than one story in the book, some of our great hindustani musicians were connoisseurs of good food too.
The book written by Sheila Dhar, herself a trained classical musician, breathes music from the first page to the last. Yet, the wonderful way in which the stories are narrated makes the book more than just a book on music. She writes about the time when she was sixteen, when she was asked by her father to receive Bade Ghulam Ali Khan at the station and to escort him and his accompanists to the house of his host, and fetch them to the concert hall after they had refreshed themselves and had their dinner. The hosts happened to be vegetarians. The maestro could not stomach the sight of this unfamiliar food. He exploded: "Do you think I can sing the way I do if I have to feed on grasses swimming in fluids of various kinds? Every note I sing has the aroma of kebabs." Sheila then describes how everyone ran helter-skelter to prepare a meal consisting ofa rich chicken curry.
Writing about music is writing about an experience, and Sheila displays a huge talent in the way she describes music without any jargon or pretentiousness. From Pandith Pran Nath, for example, she learnt to think about ragas in terms of colors. "It was natural for him to dive into the dark depths of early morning ragas like Lalit and Bhairava, where there was no sun. Sometimes we would hear the greys and dusky ochres of twilight ragas like Puriya and Marwa, the midnight blue of magical and mysterious ragas like Malkauns, and even the restrained gold of the majestic and courtly Darbari."
In Chapter Twenty Four, titled "The New Face of Listening" the author comments about the changing dynamics of the classical music performance and listening. She talks about the perception of silence and how it has changed. Her observations are poignant. "The portrait of a raga" she says, "was thought to consist of unbroken melodic lines drawn on the canvas of silence". According to her, the gradual erosion of silence by ever increasing noise levels is the single important change that has come about in the music world in the last fifty years.
At one place in the book the author lists the following as the most attractive attrributes of Indian classical music - grace and romanticism, purity and restraint, depth and serenity. I am sure it would not be amiss to use some of these same attributes to describe this beautiful book.
http://roots-n-wings.blogspot.in/2012...
April 14, 2020
A book I have re-read at least 7 times. It is laugh out loud funny, and that’s the least interesting thing about this book! Pick it up— especially if you are even slightly familiar with Indian classical music.
March 8, 2014
Couldn't finish it. Found it heavy going. Perhaps because the writing is a little naif and because I am, perhaps, not that into the daily life of a musician.
Read
August 2, 2016never have i laughed so much while reading a book!
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