To understand a culture we must examine its classical roots. No real understanding of Europe or Europeans is possible without understanding Western classical music. In his autobiographical novel Youth, Nobel Prize winner J.M. Coetzee writes of his first encounter with Hindustani music. It comes as he watches Satyajit Ray’s Apu trilogy on successive nights in London. “Hitherto he has found in Western music, in Bach above all, everything he needs,” writes Coetzee, “Now he encounters something that is not in Bach.” And what is this that he discovers in Hindustani music? “A joyous yielding of the reasoning, comprehending mind.”
Hub of harmony: Symphony Orchestra of India performing at NCPA, Mumbai. Abhijit Bhatlekar / Mint
He buys a record by Vilayat Khan and it is consistent with the film’s music. He finds the same “hovering exploration of tone sequences, the quivering emotion, the ecstatic rushes... A new continent...”
Coetzee has access to a new culture through this music. It communicates what Western music does not. The question is: How?
Hindustani music is unique in two ways. One: It operates without one of the three elements of music, harmony. It is rich in melody and rhythm but does not harmonize two separate melodies. Because of this, Hindustani music is always a monologue. The singer, or sitar player, as in Pather Panchali, offers an individual’s expression. This makes Hindustani music introverted, giving it the qualities Coetzee discovers. The reasoning mind is set aside because one man does not reason with himself. If not reason, what does Hindustani communicate to its audience? The answer is: Emotion. And it does this especially efficiently for those of us who respond to the culture. One of the few times I feel religious is when I listen to the 36-year-old Jasraj’s muscular ode to Hanuman in Hamsadhwani, on his first LP from 1966.
Two: The primary theme of Hindustani music is melancholy, and loss. There is no optimism in it, and no army ever marched to dhrupad or khayal. Wagner moved Hitler to annex the Sudetenland, and Carl Orff’s O Fortuna makes me want to do the same. Hindustani makes us retreat within ourselves. But it is a melancholy that we are comforted by. The music I go to after having a few is always Hindustani: Aamir Khan (the other one) moving magisterially through Anandi Kalyan, or Rashid Khan, at a higher pitch, more pleading, in Bageshri.
Also Read Aakar’s previous Lounge columns
Europe’s classical music is trying for us to listen to, and very few Indians like it.