"Alla Rakha is the Einstein, the Picasso; he is the highest form of rhythmic development on this planet" - Mickey Hart
The Google featured Ustad Allah Rakha Khan, the renowned tabla player, on 29th April, 2014 in its Doodle . I have not seen him perform, but once had the fortune of watching his son Ustad Zakir Hussain play along Pandit Shiv Sharma during my college days. I was mesmerized . Zakir is a recipient of Padma Bhushan and many other awards. He has expanded the scope of tabla by taking it out of the Indian classical world and collaborating with jazz, rock, and other world artists - the only dissonant rhythm that came out from him was in his endorsing ,what I consider, is an ordinary grade of CTC tea, the Taj Mahal , with the ridiculous tagline 'Wah Taj Boliye'. This tea is just not in sync with the persona of the greatest living exponent of tabla or the breathtaking majesty of India's most famous and photographed monument. But that is another story. We are here to celebrate the magic of the percussion instruments in general , and the tabla in particular which has emerged as one of the truly great Indian instruments.
The complex interplay of the fingers, palms and wrists on a playing surface which is so variegated - the syahi, the maidan, the chat and the gajra- produces such a profusion and range of sound which is probably unmatched by any instrument. The tabalia also possesses the most amazing movement of fingers , sometimes like a hooded cobra striking its prey. It is said about Radhakanto Nandi that more than his frame, it were his fingers which could be visible. I am not sure whether he could do it or not- but it is claimed about Gudai Maharaj that he could imitate the sound of a crow from his tabla.
The tabla has become an integral part of Hindustani Classical music - played solo as well as an accompaniment. It has spawned six different classical gharanas - and like so many things Indian has a strong oral tradition of instruction in the typical guru- shishya mould. It has also powered many of the great songs of the Bombay film industry, mostly sung on the Bambaiyya thheka , a variation of the keherawa taal. My favourite is this song from Guide "Piya tose nayna laage re" in which the legendary santoor player Pandit Shiv Sharma played the tabla - though it wrenches my heart to concede that "Na toh karwan ki talash hai" or "Laga chunari mei daag " would be any less.
Most musicians use parts of their body to accompany and express their work - purists even disapprovingly call it mudra dosh. The guitarist rotates his hips, stomps his feet, contorts his face, shakes his head, pirouettes and rocks his frame.The vocalist, being hands free, is a bundle of energy-Bharat Ratna Bhimsen Joshi had the trademark facial contortions and exaggerated hand movements combined with bending of the whole torso - like a whirling dervish possessed .
The tabalia is comparatively disadvantaged because he can't move his lower body - sitting cross legged and having to use both his hands . So he bobs his spine like a jockey during trot, flourishes his hands on and off the puddi like a magician, quivers his neck like a puppet and, when he has long hair like Zakir Husain or Bickram Ghosh, lets his hair fly! He communicates best with the accompanying artist by the forward thrust of his neck and the language of the eyes - one of the most expressive being that of Abbaji!
But forget all these celebrities I have talked about. I am perfectly comfortable with and have been comforted by the ordinariness of my existence and that of my acquaintances. I have derived great pleasure in being around with people not so well known. To my untrained and besotted ears, there was no violinist greater than Neeraj Puri, a year senior to me in school, when he played the Ik Pyar ka naghma hai, maujon ki rawaani hai, no guitarist better than Abhijit Dasgupta when he strummed Phoolon ke Dhere Hain from Zameer. The percussionist who has given me the maximum joy is Bhaiyya, my cousin - my regard not diminished by his barbs at golfers and wine drinkers.
Bhaiyya is no magician like the great percussionists who could reproduce the sound of bubbles, a crowded city, the jungle, the raindrops, the thunderclap, the coming, going and changing of tracks of trains or rubber balls falling down the stairs. Infact, he doesn't even have either the tabla or the bongo or the congo or the drum. He just plays on a table from the many put up for him at the evening gatherings. His tuning drill is fabulously uncomplicated. Not for him the hammering on the gajras or the tightening of the gattas - he just sprinkles on the playing surface few drops of whichever Single Malt he is drinking and gets going!
Bhaiyya is no magician like the great percussionists who could reproduce the sound of bubbles, a crowded city, the jungle, the raindrops, the thunderclap, the coming, going and changing of tracks of trains or rubber balls falling down the stairs. Infact, he doesn't even have either the tabla or the bongo or the congo or the drum. He just plays on a table from the many put up for him at the evening gatherings. His tuning drill is fabulously uncomplicated. Not for him the hammering on the gajras or the tightening of the gattas - he just sprinkles on the playing surface few drops of whichever Single Malt he is drinking and gets going!
His energised fingers then weave a magic as they perfectly support the accomplished singers, calm, assure and encourage the lesser accomplished, and compel the most leaden of the feet to dance. His twinkling eyes and percussive talent quickly erase the LOC type of the gender divide so common in most Indian evening parties. It breaks up talks on lingerie and embroidery and bosses. Soon everyone is jamming as the air resonates with conviviality and a kinetic energy grips all - to remind one of another song in which the tabla dominates- Bhor Aaye Gaye Andhiara from Bawarchi.
Dhagi nati naka dhina !
