Title: Breath of Gold – Hariprasad Chaurasia
Author: Sathya Saran
Publisher: Penguin Random House, 2019 (First)
ISBN: 9780670092512
Pages: 256
Hariprasad Chaurasia is a renowned Indian musician specialized in bansuri, the Indian flute. His fame is spread all over the globe that he is often acknowledged as the voice of Indian classical music. Chaurasia found his mettle in the most improbable family background. His mother died when he was only six, and his wrestler father wanted him to get initiated in the wrestling profession. But the artist in the boy always spilled out in unexpected ways. He tried vocal music at first. Though he failed in singing as he had only a limited range, his teacher advised him to find an instrument that made use of his steady breath. His quest ended with the flute. His talent and job in the All India Radio opened gates for him to perform in the orchestra of Hindi film music headquartered at Mumbai. Chaurasia shot to prominence in no time, but shifted to classical music at the peak of his career in the popular music industry. He established boarding house schools for teaching aspiring students and became very busy in imparting knowledge of Indian music overseas and displaying its charm and verve to foreign audiences. This book tells the story of this maestro who continues to invigorate the Indian mind with his enchanting music. Sathya Saran is a popular biographer who is currently the consulting editor at HarperCollins Publishers. She has several books to her credit.
Saran reproduces Chaurasia’s childhood with direct interviews with the maestro. He was always approachable and did not assume pretensions of holier-than-thou attitude very common among classical Indian musicians. The book showcases a musician willing to perform whenever people demanded it. He was not averse to earn money with his art. This is neither strange nor shameful as all musicians of old had been under the liberal financial umbrella extended by aristocratic patrons. Chaurasia found a job in All India Radio (AIR) which ensured self-sufficiency and a secure tenure. With no help forthcoming from his father to promote his tastes, Chaurasia learnt flute unbeknown to his father. He came to know that his son played flute only on the evening prior to his departure for Cuttack where he was posted by AIR. The job was not time-consuming and he could moonlight in the rich cultural landscape of Odisha’s heartland.
Diverting one’s attention outside one’s full-time job would be noticed, even in a nobody-cares institution such as AIR. The bosses noted with dismay the young musician’s parleys outside the scope his position demanded. They transferred him to Mumbai as punishment but which eventually came out as a blessing in disguise. He was quickly introduced to the Bollywood music industry, His first recording was for a song by the legendary Lata Mangeshkar. Though film music was frowned upon by musical puritans in the south of India, it was not unusual for north’s classical musicians to be part of the orchestra playing for film songs. Even well known, much respected singers from venerable gharanas were sometimes persuaded to lend their voice to celluloid. Huge fees were usually involved in such instances. Bade Ghulam Ali Khan once charged Rs. 25,000 for a single song when the going rate was only Rs. 250 to 1000. Chaurasia soon got busy with playing flute and composing music for film songs. He was earning more money than his job gave him, and he was busy with what he loved best – music. Soon he quit the job.
Chaurasia’s conquest of Bollywood music was so fast that he became the staple of recording studios across the country. Saran narrates all this with the lucidity of a movie script where the hero ascends the steps to fame steadily. Almost every song had an interlude by him. Even in films where the flute cannot be included in the music, they found ways to add in a composition in the background score. His cooperative spirit was plainly visible when he teamed up with santoor maestro Shivkumar Sharma, a close family friend, to provide combined performances. This became an instant hit and the duo became famous under the sobriquet ‘Shiv-Hari’.
The book coherently narrates the shift in Chaurasia’s career when he decided to change track to classical music at the peak of his fame. He decided to learn from scratch, but finding a master was a serious problem. Who would venture to ‘teach’ a flute maestro whose reputation had spread even across the nation’s frontiers? Chaurasia found such a guru in Annapurna Devi, daughter of Ustad Allauddin Khan and first wife of Pandit Ravi Shankar. After her estrangement with Shankar, she became a recluse and never performed in public again. Moreover, she was a surbahar (bass sitar) player who did not know how to play flute. Against these heavy odds, Chaurasia became a disciple and learnt Hindustani classical music. As in any field, hard work and perseverance would pay handsomely in music too. He spent many years learning and acquired a depth of knowledge which he used to create his own style and musical vocabulary. He learned to speak with the flute and reach out to touch the hearts of his audience. Saran includes some interesting anecdotes of Annapurna Devi’s mercurial temper. She disliked disciples arguing with her and once banged a tanpura on Chaurasia’s head when he disagreed with what she said. His humility and obedience to the guru became known immediately. He picked up the pieces, wrapped them carefully and placed them at her feet with the utmost respect.
Readers note with pleasant appreciation Chaurasia’s willingness to freely associate with western musicians and perform fusion music that combined the good traits from both streams. He staged recitals in many cities of Europe and the US. He opened training academies where foreign students could learn Indian classical music without upsetting their formal studies. If they were still desirous to pursue music study after an introductory spell, they could come to India to learn from the horse’s mouth at the Gurukul institutions in Mumbai or Bhubaneswar. The latter facility was a return gift to Odisha, the state that had set him on his real journey to classical music. Chaurasia always proclaimed that he wanted to raise a generation of musicians.
The book is adorned with a foreword by Ustad Amjad Ali Khan and a prelude by Ustad Zakir Hussain who compares him to the eleventh avatar of Vishnu to spread happiness among the listeners. Chaurasia has produced many recitals based on popular themes. This book contains several chapters that are excellent accompaniments to the albums, especially his magnum opus ‘The Call of the Valley’. This implores the readers to search for the music on internet and Saran’s neat description helps them a lot to better appreciate the music that permeates with the beauty and spirit of Kashmir Valley in its every note. The book includes some nice photographs illustrating a few memorable moments of the maestro’s career. The book should have included a glossary for lay readers who are not conversant with the technical terms of Hindustani music. The terms gharana and riyaz immediately come to mind as I had to look them up elsewhere. The composition of the book is primarily based on personal interviews of Chaurasia and his family members. This precludes any chance of serious criticism, but the author has been candid enough to express that Chaurasia has two wives and the family gets on well, contrary to popular perceptions about such a set up!
Saran reproduces Chaurasia’s childhood with direct interviews with the maestro. He was always approachable and did not assume pretensions of holier-than-thou attitude very common among classical Indian musicians. The book showcases a musician willing to perform whenever people demanded it. He was not averse to earn money with his art. This is neither strange nor shameful as all musicians of old had been under the liberal financial umbrella extended by aristocratic patrons. Chaurasia found a job in All India Radio (AIR) which ensured self-sufficiency and a secure tenure. With no help forthcoming from his father to promote his tastes, Chaurasia learnt flute unbeknown to his father. He came to know that his son played flute only on the evening prior to his departure for Cuttack where he was posted by AIR. The job was not time-consuming and he could moonlight in the rich cultural landscape of Odisha’s heartland.
Diverting one’s attention outside one’s full-time job would be noticed, even in a nobody-cares institution such as AIR. The bosses noted with dismay the young musician’s parleys outside the scope his position demanded. They transferred him to Mumbai as punishment but which eventually came out as a blessing in disguise. He was quickly introduced to the Bollywood music industry, His first recording was for a song by the legendary Lata Mangeshkar. Though film music was frowned upon by musical puritans in the south of India, it was not unusual for north’s classical musicians to be part of the orchestra playing for film songs. Even well known, much respected singers from venerable gharanas were sometimes persuaded to lend their voice to celluloid. Huge fees were usually involved in such instances. Bade Ghulam Ali Khan once charged Rs. 25,000 for a single song when the going rate was only Rs. 250 to 1000. Chaurasia soon got busy with playing flute and composing music for film songs. He was earning more money than his job gave him, and he was busy with what he loved best – music. Soon he quit the job.
Chaurasia’s conquest of Bollywood music was so fast that he became the staple of recording studios across the country. Saran narrates all this with the lucidity of a movie script where the hero ascends the steps to fame steadily. Almost every song had an interlude by him. Even in films where the flute cannot be included in the music, they found ways to add in a composition in the background score. His cooperative spirit was plainly visible when he teamed up with santoor maestro Shivkumar Sharma, a close family friend, to provide combined performances. This became an instant hit and the duo became famous under the sobriquet ‘Shiv-Hari’.
The book coherently narrates the shift in Chaurasia’s career when he decided to change track to classical music at the peak of his fame. He decided to learn from scratch, but finding a master was a serious problem. Who would venture to ‘teach’ a flute maestro whose reputation had spread even across the nation’s frontiers? Chaurasia found such a guru in Annapurna Devi, daughter of Ustad Allauddin Khan and first wife of Pandit Ravi Shankar. After her estrangement with Shankar, she became a recluse and never performed in public again. Moreover, she was a surbahar (bass sitar) player who did not know how to play flute. Against these heavy odds, Chaurasia became a disciple and learnt Hindustani classical music. As in any field, hard work and perseverance would pay handsomely in music too. He spent many years learning and acquired a depth of knowledge which he used to create his own style and musical vocabulary. He learned to speak with the flute and reach out to touch the hearts of his audience. Saran includes some interesting anecdotes of Annapurna Devi’s mercurial temper. She disliked disciples arguing with her and once banged a tanpura on Chaurasia’s head when he disagreed with what she said. His humility and obedience to the guru became known immediately. He picked up the pieces, wrapped them carefully and placed them at her feet with the utmost respect.
Readers note with pleasant appreciation Chaurasia’s willingness to freely associate with western musicians and perform fusion music that combined the good traits from both streams. He staged recitals in many cities of Europe and the US. He opened training academies where foreign students could learn Indian classical music without upsetting their formal studies. If they were still desirous to pursue music study after an introductory spell, they could come to India to learn from the horse’s mouth at the Gurukul institutions in Mumbai or Bhubaneswar. The latter facility was a return gift to Odisha, the state that had set him on his real journey to classical music. Chaurasia always proclaimed that he wanted to raise a generation of musicians.
The book is adorned with a foreword by Ustad Amjad Ali Khan and a prelude by Ustad Zakir Hussain who compares him to the eleventh avatar of Vishnu to spread happiness among the listeners. Chaurasia has produced many recitals based on popular themes. This book contains several chapters that are excellent accompaniments to the albums, especially his magnum opus ‘The Call of the Valley’. This implores the readers to search for the music on internet and Saran’s neat description helps them a lot to better appreciate the music that permeates with the beauty and spirit of Kashmir Valley in its every note. The book includes some nice photographs illustrating a few memorable moments of the maestro’s career. The book should have included a glossary for lay readers who are not conversant with the technical terms of Hindustani music. The terms gharana and riyaz immediately come to mind as I had to look them up elsewhere. The composition of the book is primarily based on personal interviews of Chaurasia and his family members. This precludes any chance of serious criticism, but the author has been candid enough to express that Chaurasia has two wives and the family gets on well, contrary to popular perceptions about such a set up!
The book is highly recommended.
Rating: 3 Star
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