Pandit Jagdish Prasad, a colossus of Hindustani music, passed away on 18 July 2011, in Kolkata, India. Panditji was also the guru of my Guruji, Pandit Prabhakar Dhakde. I had the great honour of living with Panditji and his family, and studying Indian classical music over a number of months in 1995, as well as spending time together on his numerous visits to Nagpur whilst I was studying there with Guruji from 1993-97.
Our time together was a tremendous experience that will live with me forever. As a westerner it was a tremendous eye-opener to connect with Indian music culture and the life of a master musician.
Panditji lived and breathed music. He had a playful sense of humour but was serious about music. He was an ‘old school’ musician and teacher for whom sound was his universe. He was ‘old school’ in that his focus on music came from his family heritage. His father Pandit Badri Prasad was an appointed court musician to the prince of Raigarh. Panditji had also imbibed and developed the Patiala gharana (school) of Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan. This was acknowledged by other musicians including Ustad Amjad Ali Khan and music lovers alike. He was the embodiment and flag bearer of a great oral tradition including a tremendously broad knowledge of vocal repertoire and styles ranging from khayal to thumri, tappa, dadra, bhajan and even ghazal (although he chose not to present this on the public stage). His depth of knowledge of instrumental music was also remarkable. He would often coach up-and-coming (and even professional) tabla players in the art of accompanying a vocal dadra or keherva right down to the minutiae of a specific teka. I even witnessed him doing this on stage during a public performance.
Together with a massive foundation in the music tradition, Panditji was also technically mesmerizing as a singer. But he was not just the preserver of a tradition. He was a trailblazer. His knowledge of the tradition coupled with his incredible vocal technique was a springboard for pushing the creative boundaries through improvisation within a given raga. His performances were a relentless pursuit of new musical ideas whilst maintaining the integrity of the raga. From the aesthetic beauty of his unfolding of a raga in alap (exposition) with his sense of nyas (phrasing) and ornamentation, to crystal clear taana (melodic passages) delivered at lightning speed, Panditji was a creative tour de force to behold.
The short time I was privileged to spend with Panditji and his family were days where every waking moment was filled with music. There was a constant stream of students and disciples from morning until night at his flat in Jadavpur, Kolkata. In the course of a typical day, I recall listening to Panditji teach others and receiving talim (teachings) from him as well as from his son Samrat who was a young teenager at the time. He was an acclaimed child prodigy singer. Panditji had started his music training very early. When he was still in his mother’s womb he would rest his head on her tummy and sing classical compositions to him.
Panditji was an unaffected personality least concerned about personal gain or fame. As such, worldly affairs like the running of the household fell upon the longsuffering patience of Guru-Ma, who was also his biggest admirer. He was considered a musicians’ musician and appreciated by music lovers alike. He did not care much for his own publicity but was generous with his knowledge and welcomed all that were willing to dedicate themselves to learning. He touched countless hearts with his beauty, mastery and simplicity.
Panditji released a number of commercial recordings over his lifetime and there must be some tremendous material locked in the vaults of All India Radio. However, I cannot help but feel that this is but a small portion of the knowledge embodied in Pandit Jagdish Prasad. What has passed away and what remains? This is the perpetual dilemma of this great oral tradition that is Hindustani classical music and its continuation through the guru-shyshya parampara (master-disciple tradition). It is as ephemeral as the nature of raga itself that exists only in its rendition, born anew, in the moment, with each utterance, only to drift into the ether never to be heard the same way again. What remains of Panditji’s teachings is with his students and with Santosh and Samrat his sons. In my brief immersion all those years ago, I feel I have barely touched this ocean of knowledge. However, I continue to distill the experience and take inspiration for my riaz (practice). Rest assured Panditji did not teach the ‘what’ of this great art form, but rather the ‘how’.
Reposted from www.facebook.com/pages/Pandit-Jagdish-Prasad/121703507904682
