SANSKRITI ARCHIVES

Rang Barse

Thursday, March 31, 2005 | 3 comments

by

Shounak Krishnanand

Holi, the festival of colours, like many Indian festivals, commemorates the victory of good over evil. It is celebrated on the day after full moon night in the Hindu Calendar month of Phalguna which usually falls in March. The origins of Holi lie in a mythological story of a demon King Hiranyakashyapu whose son, Prahlad worships Lord Vishnu. In order to kill Prahlad, he orders his sister, Holika, who was said to be immune from fire to sit with Prahlad in a fire but Prahlad comes out unscathed and Holika gets burnt to ashes. A bonfire is lit on the full moon night to commemorate this and to symbolize the death of evil spirits and warmth of spring banishing the winter.

Rang Panchami is celebrated on the next day. The throwing of colours also symbolizes the love of Lord Krishna for Radha. This exuberant festival represents the onset of life and vitality. In some places in India, it is marked by vibrant processions, folk dances and a sense of abandonment.

Welcome to Holi in Spanish Fork, Utah!





The fire devoured the papier-mache Holika; the flames rose heavenwards as if asking for more. 1500 people, around 1350 of them caucasians, drunk on a live band chanting Hare Rama Hare Krishna instead of the traditional bhang, dispatched some of the powdered colour that in total accounted for 1200 packets onto each other and into the air; the low flung sun making it seem hazy and colourful as it should be. It might have been almost any other place in India; the ISKON temple and the dancing peacock (Lord Krishna wore a peacock feather in his crown) providing an apt backdrop.




Although, the setting might have been as any in India, large crowd cramped on the small grounds, the intangible indianness was missing. Sure, people were colouring total strangers but there was nothing personal about it. The warm hugs of estranged friends were conspicuous by their absence and nor were the applying of colours preceded by cries of Holi Hai!!. Holi is nothing if not a renewal of spirit. Isn’t this what is celebrated in India today? I do not remember having anything on my mind other than throwing a water balloon on that guy walking on the street from the safety of my third storey home and clapping gleefully as it hit his head. If this is the essence of Holi, I think these people atleast felt it if not understood it. I wonder if some people in Mumbai have forgotten it!



Most of the people there had not come to worship. Some had come to get a taste of a different culture, a different philosophy to life, maybe even looking for some inspiration. Some had merely come to have fun. But sometimes all it takes is couple of hours of lost inhibitions to rejuvenate yourself. Maybe some of them did just that or maybe they didn’t. I had fun and they did too. That’s a start anyway.

Lahore Lahore Hai!

Wednesday, March 23, 2005 | 4 comments

by

Imran Khan

City by the Night, Photogram, 8" x 12"

This particular photogram is a depiction of Lahore's skyline in the night during the festival of Basant. During the festival, Lahore's sky lights up and there are kites flying everywhere, with blaring music, scrumptious food and full of life people on every roof top.



The Walled City 1, Print (etching), 6" x 3"

The Walled City of Lahore, is the best area to experience the true spirit of Basant. The closely knitted area is always booming with life, be it Basant or any other day of the year. The inner city is still the hub of Lahore, from the most famous whole sale market Shah Aalmi to the most controversial Heera Mandi, its all there within the 12 gates of the ancient walled city of Lahore.



The Walled City 2, Print (etching), 4" x 6"

The other most fascinating aspect of the walled city is its architecture. Even after centuries gone by you still get to witness some beautiful original architectural pieces. It houses the most famous Masjid Wazir Khan as well as Moti Masjid, along with Shahi Mamams (Royal Baths). It is indeed the most interesting part of Lahore.

Meeta the Teacher

Wednesday, March 23, 2005 | 1 comments

Through an extraordinary quirk of fate, Dr Meeta Pandit has found herself the inheritor of a precious musical legacy.

Richard Turner

attends her Nehru Centre concert and interviews the stylish young singer

As they swept in through the Georgian grid of Mayfair for her sound check, their long winter coats over saris gave the soloist and her tanpura player the outline of two contemporary angrez belles on a jaunt. With a brief smile at the scruffy Englishman sheltering with his bidi by the door, Dr Meeta Pandit buzzed the intercom, announced her name and disappeared behind oak and brass.
If Meeta is 'extremely happy' to be performing at the Nehru Centre in London, then we her audience must be ecstatic. The singer is making a rare UK visit, enabling us to hear ashtang gayaki of the Gwalior gharaana sung by an artist who was born into it.

Meeta represents the sixth generation of the Pandit family of Gwalior. The name is legendary among music lovers. Her grandfather Pt. Krishnarao Shankar Pandit was awarded the title of Padma Bhushan, while her father and guru Pt. LK Pandit has further widened the audience with his many concerts, recordings and broadcasts. Meeta has been tutored by both and cites her father as her guru.

In terms of her formal education, Meeta gained a B.Com (Hons.) degree from Lady Shri Ram College, New Delhi, and went on to a Doctorate in Music, with her thesis on the Contribution of the Pandit Family of Gwalior Gharana to Hindustani Music. She is an A Grade artist of All India Radio and Doordarshan and her first album, Footsteps, is available on Music Today.

So this concert was a rare treat.

Meeta begins with a sombre khyal in raag Madhumati, Ek taal. Half-closed eyes accentuate her feline features as the singer produces a thoughtful alaap, with rapid development. The harmonium of Pt. Vishwa Prakash is subtle, although its bass-heavy timbre disguises the tonality of Meeta's voice, which is mid-range. The vocalist is regal and detached in performance, casting an eye over latecomers but not allowing them to disturb her concentration. Eye contact is reserved for the more attentive listeners. Her vocal range is good and there is ample power behind it, enabling dynamic variety. Meeta's purity of tone is impressive. Sustained swaras end in a flourish and the singer's own enjoyment is conveyed to her audience. She begins working against the taal and creates fluid syncopation. There is extended use of ghamakas. Evidently, some sweeping away of cobwebs is required, so Meeta allows tabla accompanist Rajkumar Mishra a solo, before returning to accelerate the khyal to its conclusion.

The singer is clearly a concert artist of great experience and this shows in the friendly and relaxed introduction to her second piece. This is a bhajan, setting the words of Kabir to a melody of Meeta's own composition. With its sensitive and expressive intro, there is a definite sense of the special about the work. It's tremendously enjoyable and you can feel the audience relaxing and warming to it. Prakashji's harmonium is crisp and sweet.

Meeta is ready to respect the Nehru Centre's mandatory time limit, but Deputy Director Padam Talwar won't hear of it. Supported by the whole audience, he requests one more. Meeta graciously obliges with a tappa, Dil lagaa rehna yaar re, in raag Khamaaj. The phrasing is absolutely spot on and the evening concludes happily for one and all.

My attractive Caribbean companion (an amateur bhajan singer) departs, but I am consoled when Shireen Isal introduces me to Meeta and she consents to an interview. Time is against her and money (as usual) is against me, so we arrange to email questions and answers.

'I started music at a very young age,' Meeta confirms. Moreover, 'I don't even remember when because, in our home, music is a part of our lives. It's like eating, sleeping, drinking music. In short, there is music in the air.'

And was there a tradition of amateur music-making among the women of the family? 'They always lived in harmony, doing household chores and caring for the family. At the same time they got peace by hearing divine music in the house. Naturally, they would pick up bandishes and so on, but would sing for themselves. In fact, my mother got married in the Pandit family because of her deep interest in music. She got lessons in music before marriage and has a very beautiful voice. In fact she is the guiding force to have instilled the discipline of riyaaz. It is amazing because I belong to an orthodox family, but my upbringing has been as an equal to my brothers. And my parents have never put restrictions of any kind to my travel schedules, which are sometimes really crazy to deal with!'

Meeta turned professional only after the tragically early death of her brother. It was a difficult decision and a controversial one, as the artist recounts. 'Tushar's death was almost like a bombshell. Nobody could ever imagine that such a talented, handsome person would just vanish from this earth. He was 27. And the accident happened at the time when he was about to take off in the musical world.

'That year I was preparing for MBA entrance. But then it just seemed pointless. I dropped the idea. My father was not happy over my decision. He told me that it is good to have a separate career and keep music as a hobby. As an artist, he knows the difficulties, hardship and uncertainty associated with an artist's life.'

Meeta has enjoyed considerable success in her career, as both a concert artist and a broadcaster. Even so, she has not lost sight of the pure pleasure of performance and study. 'I consider myself very lucky - my passion is my profession. In such a case, the so-called "success" has never been the objective. I will always be very happy to sing. Most important for me is my talim, sadhana, and my own insight of music. God has been very kind. I have been very fortunate to receive blessings, love and admiration of music lovers from a young age.'

As a broadcaster, Meeta has used both standard formats on AIR and Doordarshan and also sought to expand the audience with unexpected slots such as Sunehre Pal. She explains the thinking behind this approach. 'Today we need to accept the importance of media, particularly television, in our lives. It pains me to see my generation hardly interested in classical music. The moment one sees classical, they surf channels! But if we go deeper regarding analysis of this, I don't entirely blame the generation. They hardly are exposed to the rich heritage and culture. We need to take advantage of the media - print, TV, Internet, etc. - to reach out to them. I happened to speak my thoughts in a casual conversation with the producers and they were very interested. Subaha Savere, which was a morning breakfast show, was meant to be a very light programme for laymen. So the programme had to very interesting in order to sustain the interest of laymen.'

But is this not ironic, given Meeta's own solid guru-shishya parampara background? 'There is nothing ironic because such an idea was very successfully used by my father Pt. LK Pandit in Prabhati, the serial that featured on Sun Morning that was a huge success.'

Without compromising her own heritage, the vocalist concludes our interview with hints at her awareness of and enthusiasm for the wider musical world. 'I have always been interested in music, be it classical, rock, pop, jazz, blues... I am at present working with Alli Delfaut, a composer and pianist based in Paris. I would love to be part of [more] international collaborations.'

More at www.meetapandit.com

© veena magazine 2004. Used by permission. This feature was first published in the January 2004 issue of veena.

A Dash of Tiger

Wednesday, March 23, 2005 | 0 comments

The Maharajah's Daughters is a tender treatment of a colonial legacy.

Review by

Richard Turner

What for Christy Cambpell had been a racy Victorian spy story has now, in the more than capable hands of Mehtab Theatre, become transformed into a deeply touching and affectionate tale of two sisters, adrift in Edwardian England.

Campbell's 2001 opus The Maharajah's Box was the starting point for the company's dramatisation of the lives of the daughters of Duleep Singh. Prompted by Mehtab's Parminder Sekhon, prize-winning film and television writer Clive Bradley has produced a script that shines.

Or rather sparkles. There are moments of contradiction and, in an effort to retell the Maharajah's story in parallel with their own, the four characters of Catherine and Sophia, his widow Ada Douglas and India Office minder Henry Thomson, become at times mired in confusion. Audiences need to have read the book.

In all other respects, however, Mehtab Theatre are to be congratulated. The establishment of historical period is impressive and convincing. Edwardian furniture and smaller props provide a realistic ambience, as does the use of contemporary music and sound effects. Crin Claxton's lighting design perfectly captures the gloomy corners and warm glows of gaslight. This is the era of HG Wells' The Time Machine, and it is we who have been transported.

The chamber music strings of Elgar or Debussy give way to the striking and energetic performances of Sakuntala Ramanee as Catherine and Parminder Sekhon as Sophia. The bond between the daughters and their contrasting personalities is soon established. Cathy is brisk and authoritative, Sophie girlish and, as it turns out, idealistic. Religion is an early theme but it's the very complexity of their situation that prevents this from becoming a hectoring, 'single issue' play.

Mandy Vernon-Smith is brilliant as a brassy Ada. She provokes audience laughter with a sub-Marie Lloyd, Music Hall persona, allied to the later saucy blonde stereotype of seaside postcards and Carry On films. Depth is added with a touch of the aggrieved class warrior, encouraging Sophia to fight the common enemy for India. This is more like it - I want to stand up and cheer at this point!

The coldly authoritarian figure of Henry (Grant Burgin) warms and softens progressively during the play. Even while, in the 1930s, he angrily condemns the dopey Sophia's initial support of the Muslim League, Grant manages to give his character shades of compassion. And there is the irony of Henry's recent visit to Calcutta: 'I have never been to India,' Sophia admits.

By the end of the 90 minutes, we have been made to care for these people. Cathy's return from Nazi Germany, after the death of her lover, is followed by her own demise, but it's the touching final scene of a 1947 reconciliation between Henry and Sophia that dampens the eyes. Recommended.

© veena magazine 2003. Used by permission.

This review was first published in the December 2003 issue of veena.