Baba Allauddin Khan as a young man
This story is based on the hand-written diaries of Baba Allauddin
Khan. Upon Baba Allauddin's death at the age of 110 in 1972, the
diaries were passed on to his son, Ali Akbar Khan. From their pages
one learns of the grandeur, the dedication and passionate simplicity
of the life of Baba Allauddin, destined to become the greatest
classical musician of modern India. His achievements span the end of
the Raj and the first quarter century of Indian Independence.
The story begins in 1870, at a time when the Classical Music of North India, one of the world's most ancient and intricate musical systems, under the patronage of the Maharajas and Maharanis, flourished within the opulence of their royal courts. They employed hundreds of musicians to entertain, and enjoyed the privilege of being the premier students of legendary musicians. It was also a time when, through hereditary gharanas, the true and secret knowledge of the music was passed on from father to son. Rarely were outsiders allowed to study with master musicians. Even when they were, more often than not, the special techniques, the knowledge of virtuoso artistry remained within families. Taught orally, then as now, usually without written notation, the exquisite purity, the precision, the subtlety of the music takes a lifetime to master.
Even though Allauddin Khan's father and brother loved music and studied with fine musicians, they were not born of a musical family. Allauddin grew up hearing their practice and inherited their passion for music. As a child he also, by frequenting the Shiva Temple where holy men chanted the Vedas and sang bhajans, developed a compelling love for the mystical aspect of music.
As a boy of eight, Allauddin left his family and ran away to Calcutta seeking the freedom to study as he pleased and to find a teacher who could appreciate the intensity of his passion to learn music. During the next twenty years, and from many teachers, he learned to play over 200 instruments in both the Eastern and Western classical traditions. However, his search -- before which every other pleasure and obligation in life paled -- did not end until Allauddin found the finest musician of his age with whom to study, Mohammed Wazir Khan.
Mohammed Wazir Khan traced his lineage directly back to the incomparable Mian Tansen of the sixteenth century of whom it was said: "His power was so great that he could, with his music, talk to the birds and the animals of the forest, bring rain, as well as change the hearts of Gods and men." Thus Allauddin found the teacher who could lead him through music to enlightenment. The events in the film take place during the twenty years of Allauddin's search and end as he begins his thirty-year study as a disciple of Mohammed Wazir Khan.
My Father taught me that if you practice for ten years you may begin to please yourself, after twenty years you may become a performer and please an audience, after thirty years you may please even your guru, but you must practice for many more years before you finally become a true artist -- then you may please even God.
Ali Akbar Khan
At the end of the film, a brief summary of Baba Allauddin's later
life will be super-imposed over a montage of photos and memorabilia.
It will include an essence of his life and some of the following
facts:
At the command of his guru, Allauddin traveled and performed widely, for many years, in both India and Europe. Later he became the court musician for the Maharaja of Maihar where Madan Manjari, to whom he remained married until his death, and his four children came to live with him. In Maihar, Baba Allauddin taught many of the musicians who were to become the great international exponents of Indian music in the next generation, among them his son, Ali Akbar Khan, his daughter, Annapurna Devi, his son-in-law, Ravi Shankar, Pannalal Ghosh, and Nikhil Banerjee. During India's religious wars, he also sheltered orphaned children and taught them music. With them, he created an orchestra, under the auspices of his patron. Unique in the history of Indian music, the orchestra became famous throughout India.
Baba Allauddin was instrumental in developing a system of notation for Indian music. He also created new instruments and reshaped traditional instruments, including the sarode, which became the primary instrument of his son and heir. And, almost singlehandedly, with his passion to pass on the music to all who could learn, Baba Allauddin broke the formidable tradition of secrecy that had surrounded Indian music. He foresaw that this would be the way by which classical music could survive in a pure form in the democratic world brought into being with Independence and the invention of recording technology.
The potential audience for the film and the unique soundtrack it will bring into being numbers in the millions in India, America, and every country, Eastern and Western, where Indian Music has now established itself as one of the great international musical traditions.
My birthplace was in Shivpur village of Tripura, East Bengal [now
Bangladesh]. The year was 1862. My grandfather [Mather Hussain Khan],
with whom we lived, was a very kind-hearted person. He was a great
scholar and knew many languages, Bengali, Persian, Hindi, and
Sanskrit. He was very well off and possessed many lands. The other
landlords of Bengal liked and respected him. He was a great soul.
Sadhu Khan, my father, was not the favorite of my grandfather. He did not study much; he was involved in music. He usually stayed in Agartala in order to learn music and to listen to the celebrated musicians of the Tripura Court. He learned sitar from Kasim Ali Khan.
When he came home he practiced sitar all the time. At that time I was a suckling baby and played tabla on my mother's breast. Later, I sang all the sitar gats which my father played. After my grandfather's death my father returned to family life. He hired some celebrated local musicians to teach my elder brother Aftabuddin. My brother learned tabla from Ramkanai Sil. At that time, as a boy of four or five, I learned how to play tabla by listening to the teaching sessions.
I was admitted to the village school where Aftabuddin also studied. At times, when I did not go to school, he beat me. He was an ill tempered person. He was addicted to tobacco. I had to fill his hookah for him at the back of our house, so that my parents would know nothing. If he did not get his tobacco in time, he beat me half dead. The days when he got it on time, he forced me to smoke. If I refused he beat me. I was so scared of his beatings, that smoking became a habit. He also maintained a horse for which I had to supply grass. If I refused to bring the grass, he would beat me. He was so naughty and he beat me so much that I will not forget it even after my death.
Aftabuddin neglected his studies in school. As a result the teachers beat him with canes or -- which pleased me most -- twisted his ears. He was so addicted to tobacco that he told lies to the teachers to get out of school. When he came back, his eyes would be red. Dinu Munshi, the teacher, seeing his red eyes, knew he had smoked tobacco and he would start caning him. Because of these severe punishments, Aftabuddin left his studies and started to fly kites and fish. I, Alam, was there to study. I was liked by all the teachers.
There was a famous temple of Lord Shiva in our village. I used to watch the puja of Lord Shiva, both in the morning and evening and partake of the food offered to Him. Many saints and ascetics visited the temple. They sang bhajans and played sitars. Hearing their music, I started to neglect my studies. I would go to the temple taking my school books with me. My parents did not pay any attention.
Six months passed with my continued absences from school, then one day the Headmaster complained to my father: "Why has Allauddin not come to school for such a long time? He is quite good in his studies, so please do not stop his education." My father said I did go to school every day early in the morning. Then he asked my mother, "Why does your son not go to school?" My mother told him that every morning she gave me my breakfast, and after breakfast I went to school.
So she asked my father to keep an eye on me. He found me engrossed in music in the Shiva temple and told my mother. My mother was very hot tempered. When I came home, she asked me where I had been. I said I was in the temple. She asked me whether I had gone to school or not? I told her the truth: that I forgot to go to school when I heard the saint's music. My mother slapped my face and tied my hands to the handle of the door, and also tied my legs. That day she gave me no food.
My parents had given my elder sister Madhu in marriage to a boy who lived nearby in Paschimpara. My sister always treated me with motherly affection. Seeing how I was being punished, she told my mother that she would like to take me to her house. She said I would listen to her, and she would make me quit all my bad habits. My mother gave her permission. My sister untied me and brought me to her house. She gave me food and we went to sleep.
My sister implored me not to neglect my studies. I spent a nice long time in her house. Then one day she told me that my mother was ill and wanted to see me. I moved back in with my parents. Since the time my mother had tied my hands and legs I had been thinking of leaving my home. I thought music was the best thing in life, that I would rather study music than do anything else. My father said that most of the celebrated musicians lived in the West (in India). "Ideal music prevails there and not in this country," he said. My father often talked about Kasim Ali Khan; the great rabab player of India. The stories he told me encouraged me. I started thinking, "Even if I die, I have to go to the West to learn music."
At last, when I was eight years old, I got an opportunity to leave home. My mother was ill. Because of diarrhea she had become very weak. At that time, I still slept in my mother's bed. One night my hand touched her keys for the cupboard where our family's treasure was kept. I untied the keys from her sari, opened the cupboard and took what I could hold in my fist. Then I cautiously closed the cupboard and tied the keys back onto my mother's sari while she was fast asleep. I bowed down at her feet to get her blessings. Then I made a small packet of all my belongings and left home in the pitch dark night.
I headed West. After walking many miles, I reached the Maniknagar Steamer station, which was west of Shivpur village and boarded a steamer headed to Narayanganj. I reached Narayanganj the next morning. The steamer ride was a thrilling experience for me. It was followed by a train ride. I was surprised to feel the speed of the train. It was my first experience of this kind, and I thought I would never experience anything like it again. I did not know I needed a ticket. I traveled the 200 miles without tickets.
Upon reaching Sealdah, in Calcutta, I got scared by the rush of crowds, cars, and the trams pulled by horses. I did not know how to cross such streets. I followed the crowd around Lower Circular Road drifting towards Harrison Road. The colorful clothes of the people overwhelmed me. There was no resemblance between them and my native village people. It was as if they were from heaven. I was afraid to talk with them. I looked at the tall houses with surprise. It seemed to me they touched the sky.
I had no idea where to go. My unkempt hair and shabby dress gave me a savage look. The street urchins took advantage of me, pulling my hair and ears. When I looked at buildings towards the right, I got my ear pulled from the left, and vice versa. I did not dare protest. Reaching the bank of the Ganges near the Howrah Bridge, and feeling hungry, I found a dahlpuri shop run by people from the state of Orisa. I enjoyed some dahlpuri. I felt thirsty, but could not find drinking water, so I ran to the Ganges to quench my thirst. I could not drink too much as the water was very salty. By then it was evening. Seeing the electric lights and the fires on the banks of the Ganges dazzled me. I thought I must be on the Moon. I was exhausted. I used my packet, with 12 rupees in it, as a pillow and lay down on the banks of the Ganges. The fresh air by the river made me fall fast asleep.
In the morning my packet was missing. I started to cry. A police constable came to ask me why I was crying. When I explained, instead of sympathizing with me, he started abusing me, shouting that I was stupid. I ran away along the banks of the Ganges until I found holy men coated with ashes preparing bhang in front of a pyre. I stood in front of them crying. One of these saints asked me why I was crying. I told him that I had lost my money. They told me not to worry. They said, "Lord Ram will take care of you." The oldest holy man told me to take a dip in the Ganges. After my bath he offered me a pinch of ash to swallow and told me to drink five palms full of Ganges water. Then he led me through the streets.
After a long walk we reached a place where many beggars, blind men, dirty children, poor people, both men and women were all eating rice from leaf plates. I stood in front of the Brahmin who was serving the food and he gave me some rice, dahl and vegetables for which I was very grateful. Then he directed me to drink water from a tap. I found that just by pressing the tap, water came out. I was so surprised. With great pleasure I drank fresh, sweet water. What a wonderful system!
The Brahmin, no doubt thinking I was an orphan, asked me where I had come from. I told him that I had fled from my home, and that my parents were alive. I said I did not have any relatives in Calcutta. He showed me a dispensary on the opposite side of the street and said to go rest on the verandah. The dispensary belonged to a physician known as Kedar Doctor. While I was resting the Brahmin came to tell me that I could take temporary shelter at the dispensary. Thus, I started living on the verandah.
I spent my time sitting and sleeping on the verandah. Every afternoon I ate lunch with the orphans. At night, I would cry remembering my mother and sister wondering where I could go to learn music. How could I find a good teacher? Nothing happened. Three months passed. Then one day I met a young man at Kedar Doctor's dispensary. He came to buy medicine and asked me why I sat every day and cried. I told him I wanted to become a musician. He mentioned that his father studied vocal music with a celebrated musician who might help me find a teacher.
The next morning he took me to his mother who was a kindhearted person. She received me at the door, caught hold of my hands and led me towards the inner apartment. I protested that I was a Muslim. She told me that it did not matter to her in the least. She treated me like the young Lord Krishna. She fed me full with motherly affection. Hearing my story, she brought in her husband, Bineshwar Babu, and told him about me. He listened with awe. He asked me to sing. I told him that I could sing only those songs which I had heard in the Shivpur temple. After I sang for him he told me that I was gifted with a melodious voice, and I could go with him to meet his guru. I bowed to Bineshwar Babu's wife and left with him to visit his teacher Gopal Chandra Bhattacharya.
Gopal's hands were not in proportion with his body, one was big, the other small, so he was known as Nulo Gopal. He was a musician in the Maharajah of Pathuniaghata's court. Bineshwar Babu told his guru about me. After listening to me sing, he accepted me as his disciple but made me promise that I would learn only swaras for twelve years. Then, if he was satisfied, he would teach me songs. My guru had a student, Ganga Ram Thakur, who was also his cook. I had to practice music with him daily from 2:00 to 5: 00 a.m. I liked practicing swaras and acquired a fair knowledge of them. My guru was pleased with my progress.
For three years, until I was eleven, I ate my only meal of the day with the orphans. I drank Ganges water in the evening. One day, my guru inquired where I ate. When I told him, he exerted his influence, asking Kiran Babu, one of his students, and the son-in-law of the Maharajah, if he could make the arrangements for me to take my meals in the Maharajah's palace where many people were fed for free every day. Kiran Babu agreed and, from then on, I ate my meals in the palace. Altogether, I practiced swaras for seven years. In the eighth year, when I was sixteen, my elder brother, Aftabuddin, arrived in Calcutta with his father-in-law to catch me. Two of our village landlord's sons were doing their bachelors degrees in Calcutta. With their help, my brother searched the places noted for classical music until he found me at the court of the Maharajah.
My brother and his family pleaded with my guru to let me go to my mother who was suffering. My guru was reluctant to give his permission. He told them I was very good in music and improving a lot and if they took me away it would doom my musical career. He suggested that they come for me after the completion of my musical studies. They begged him for a leave of absence of one month on humanitarian grounds and promised to send me back. I was very lucky, they said, to have a teacher like him. My guru reluctantly gave me a month's leave of absence.
I returned with my brother and his father-in-law to my home in Shivpur a changed person, I behaved like a Calcuttan. My parents, brothers and sisters were very happy to see me. However, without my knowledge, they had made a decision that I was to be married. They thought if I got married, I would not run away again. Accordingly, my marriage with Madan Manjari, the youngest daughter of Basir Khan of Raipur, one of my father's closest friends, was settled. Aftabuddin, with my parents' permission, finalized the marriage date, again without my knowledge. One day he told me that I had to go to Calcutta, via Raipur, for my music lessons. Hearing this, I was pleased. In Raipur we received the best hospitality. After a few days, my brother told me that my marriage had been arranged by my father at Madan Manjari's birth, and that I must marry before going to Calcutta. He said it would not be wise to disobey my father's decision to maintain the family tradition. Not being able to disobey my brother, I gave my consent. Two days later, I was married. My wife was eight years old.
A marriage day is followed by a day known as Phool Sajjya. Husband and wife spend this day together in a particular room. When I entered the room I found my wife asleep in bed with her sisters. Upon seeing me, her sisters left. I bolted the door. Then I took off my wife's ornaments. Both of our families had given her many ornaments and money as gifts in the marriage. I took all our wealth and made a packet, then left for Narasindhi where I again boarded a steamer for Narayanganj. In Narayanganj I took the train for Sealdah. I went straight to my guru's residence from the station. I found the door locked, so I went to see Kiran Babu at the Maharajah's palace. Kiran Babu told me that my guru had died of the plague and his belongings were taken by the Government as he had no heirs. I was stunned. I felt as if I had fallen from the sky.
Kiran Babu asked me what I wanted to do. I told him that I would like to give up vocal music for awhile and learn some instrument. He suggested I go to Habu Dutta, brother of Swami Vivekananda, who was not only a kindhearted person, but played many instruments and freely taught everybody who wanted to learn. Kiran Babu gave me Habu Dutta's address and, after a long search, I found his house in the Simla area. Upon hearing my story, he accepted me as his student and told me that I could learn any instrument I wished to learn.
With my stolen money, I bought a violin and a cornet from Mondal & Company and began to study with him. Along with my seven years' practice of swaras, I had also learned 360 paltas which made my basic knowledge of music solid. After learning the techniques of playing the violin and cornet, I applied the knowledge of my vocal training to them. Habu Dutta taught me some gats, and was pleased with my achievement. He told me that one day I would become a celebrated musician.
At that time Lobo Prabhu, Bandmaster of Eden Gardens in Calcutta, lived in Bow Bazaar. His wife played piano. His residence was in the back of an ophthalmic shop owned by Jiten Bhattacharya. Jiten allowed me to stay in his shop. Every day Lobo Sahib and his wife played violin and piano duets. Hearing their music, I was enthralled. I decided I had to learn from him. One day, as I was going for my violin lesson, I found Sahib and Memsahib sitting in front of their house. I offered my salaam. Sahib took no notice of me, but Memsahib asked me who my violin teacher was. Hearing it was Habu Dutta, she asked me to play. I played many sargams and paltas. She was pleased by my playing. I asked her to ask Sahib to teach me Western music. Hearing this, Sahib refused, saying he had no time. I begged him to be kind to me, but he flared up and tried to beat me. "Bloody swine, get out of my house immediately!" Memsahib rescued me. Later, she told me I could come to her with my violin every day at 1:00 p.m. when her husband went to his office. She told me not to tell Sahib about our lessons. Later, Lobo Sahib heard my playing and not only began to teach me, but let me join his orchestra as a violinist. I also learned shehnai from Hazari Ustad, and clarinet and Western music notation from a renowned clarinet player, a Bengali Hindu who lived in Darji Para.
At nineteen, still almost penniless, I disclosed my situation to Habu Dutta. He recommended me to Girish Ghosh who, because I could play so many instruments: violin, cornet, clarinet, shehnai, flute, tabla, mridangam, dholak, etc., gave me a job in his theater. Girish Ghosh was both a famous poet and an alcoholic. He deputed me to play all of the instruments that befitted drama. One day, in front of the actors and actresses, he renamed me Prassana Kumar Biswas saying it was not safe to keep a Muslim among so many Hindus. I did not have any further financial or food problems. I learned theater songs and concert gats, and was proud of myself because I could play so many instruments. At twenty-two, I thought there was not a single musician in the country as knowledgeable as I, and that soon I would become the best musician in the country. But I did not like the atmosphere of the theater. I was afraid of all the prostitutes, drunkards, actors and actresses. In the theater I was learning how a man loses his morality. I began to long for my village and family. One day I told Girish Ghosh my feelings. He said that working in theater was like playing with fire, and if I did not like it, I could leave and dedicate my life to learning music. In this way, he blessed me.
I heard from fellow musicians that during the Durga Puja, the top-class musicians of India were invited to participate in a music festival in Muktagacha Raj Darbar in the Mymansingh district. I thought, "Why shouldn't I go there, play my music and mesmerize the audience. After all, I have become a reputed musician." But actually, in the back of my mind a devil was working in the form of pride to make me think by singing and playing theater songs I could make an audience crazy for my music.
I reached the Darbar of the respected Maharajah Jagat Kishore Acharya of Muktagacha with my pride and all of the instruments I possessed. I managed to see him and mentioned to him that I had learned music for the past fourteen years in Calcutta. I said I had become a maestro and told him that I had come with the intention of participating in the festival and showing him my skills. The Maharajah smiled and agreed to hear me. He called one of his employees and asked him to make arrangements for my stay. As I left for my quarters, I overheard the Maharajah telling the others how crazy I was, but I did not give any importance to it. His employee had made proper arrangements for my board and lodging and asked me to present my music at the Darbar the next day at 8:00 a.m.
At 8:00 a.m. I found a full audience. The Maharajah and his officers were seated in a prominent place. A pin-drop silence prevailed. Taking a seat, with my cornet and violin, I noticed a young, bearded man with a jori tuning a sarode. Behind him, another person played a tanpura. I had never heard such sounds in my life.
After tuning his sarode, he played a meend from Ni to Sa which made me shiver with excitement. His alap made me cry. Hearing his tans, I felt as if someone were tearing the veins in my stomach. Tears started rolling from my eyes. Watching me cry, the maestro started playing with even more feeling and pathos. The audience was watching me. The more I cried the more engrossed the audience became. His music made my heart heavy. I had never heard such heavenly music. He played until 1:00 in the afternoon. (Later I learned he was playing Rag Darbari Todi) After the music was over and he had put his sarode down, I could not stop myself, I lost all my pride and ego as I caught hold of his feet and bowed my head. The maestro lifted me up. I confessed I had never had a proper guru. I said, "Mother Earth has shown you to be my guru, please accept me as your disciple." The Maharajah, his courtiers, the other musicians, and the audience, all requested the maestro to take me as his disciple. The maestro agreed and the Maharajah ordered his people to make the necessary arrangements for a Nara ceremony right there in the Darbar Hall. That very day, the maestro, known as Ahmed Ali Khan, tied Nara with me, and the Maharajah presented me with my first sarode.
Ahmed Ali Khan was in the service of Dulichand Marvari of GhuGhudanga who was as rich as an amir with many reputed musicians in his service. For three years, while studying sarode with Ahmed Ali Khan, I worked like a servant. I cooked for my guru, cleaned his house, including the toilets, did the shopping, fixed his tobacco and massaged his feet. I could practice only after I had finished serving my guru and his guests. When he was in a good mood he would ask me to bring his sarode and he would teach me gats and toras. He gave concerts frequently in Calcutta, at which I accompanied him on tabla and mridangam. I also played violin solos. I was fairly good on the violin and people liked my playing no less than the sarode playing of my guru. Whatever he earned he shared proportionately with me. We earned an average of 4 to 5,000 rupees a month. Such was his faith in me, that he had me keep his share of the earnings. Whenever he needed money, he asked me for it.
When he would go out, and I had finished the cooking, I would practice all the ragas he played exactly in the same manner that he played them. By that time I had mastered gat kari, slow gat, fast gat, and felt profound pleasure in playing slow and fast jhala. I started to feel the power of his music in me. He had not yet started to teach me alap, but I would practice alap on my own after listening to him play. It brought tears of joy to my eyes, and I would end with a prayer of gratitude to God. I asked for God's blessings to fulfill my desire for music and to deliver me from the sin of giving pain to my parents and wife.
One day I was playing alap in Rag Darbari Todi exactly the way my guru played it. I was so absorbed in the music that I had lost my sense of time. I was unaware that my guru had come home. He heard me playing and knocked on the door repeatedly with his stick. When I opened the door, I found him standing there red with anger. He asked me where I had learned this music. I replied I had learned it from him. He denied having taught it to me. He accused me of stealing his art. I begged his pardon. I told him how I had lost all my pride when I first heard his music. I told him that when I first heard him play this raga, I thought I was listening to music from heaven. I told him that if my playing made him unhappy, I would promise not to play such music anymore, I would restrict my playing to his teachings only. For the moment he seemed pacified, but after this incident, I felt that he was no longer pleased with me.
Suddenly, one day he told me he would take me to Rampur, his village in the state of Uttar Pradesh. He said, there I would find nearly 700 musicians working for the Nawab. And among them, was his finest musician, Mohammed Wazir Khan, who traced his lineage directly back to the legendary Mian Tansen, court musician to Emperor Akbar in the sixteenth century, the greatest musician that India had ever known. As a musician, Mohammed Wazir Khan, was unparalleled in India.
On our way to Rampur we stayed with the Nawab of Patna for a month. My guru introduced me to the Nawab as his favorite disciple and told him of my skill in playing all kinds of instruments with a specialized knowledge of violin. Nawab Sahib expressed his desire to hear me play. I played sarode along with my guru and, thereafter, I played the violin in my guru, Habu Dutta's, style. Nawab Sahib was charmed at my performance. The Begum Sahiba sent a note to the Nawab to ask if I might play for her. She was so pleased with my playing that I had to play for her all night, ending with Rag Bhairavi in the morning. Nawab Sahib rewarded my guru with 2,000 rupees and myself with 1,000 rupees. After that we stayed in Kashi for a month, earning around 2 to 3,000 rupees. Ultimately, we reached Rampur.
I spent the night in an outer room in my guru's house. In the morning he took me to the inner apartment and introduced me to his parents. His parents were very old. I touched their feet with reverence. My guru's father's name was Abed Ali Khan. I ate breakfast with them, and after breakfast I gave my guru the trunk in which I kept all his money in separate packets. He had never asked me for any kind of accounting, so he was quite surprised. He told me he assumed that most of the money had been spent to meet the expenses of his food and journey. I opened the trunk and brought out our total savings of 10,000 rupees. Seeing this, my guru's father embraced and blessed me, telling my guru that he had never seen anyone as honest as me and saying that I would surely become a celebrated musician. His mother also wished me a long life. With the money I had saved him, my guru and his parents built a house. I helped with the house by contributing manual labor for six months. When the house was built Abed Ali said he wanted to keep me with him and teach me. My guru then left for Calcutta, leaving me with his parents. I was never to learn from Mohammed Ali Khan again.
I lived in a small house at Mahalla Raj Dwar. Every day, I visited Abed Ali's house for my food. They ate beef, which I never ate; instead I took dahl and roti. Because I had no money, I could not eat according to my choice. It turned out that my guru's father was reluctant to teach me. The rare times when he did, it was mostly what I had already learned. I became depressed because of ill health and the lack of a teacher. I started to lose my interest in music. I spent most of my time in a nearby mosque praying for God to help me. One dayAbed Ali told me that he had taught me enough, and I should try to learn from some other guru. Hearing this I fell from the sky. My food was stopped and I spent days fasting. At this time I was twenty-five years old. I began to ask other celebrated musicians for lessons, but without money to pay, no one would teach me. They wanted at least one hundred rupees a month.
At that time, it was the custom among the Pathans and the Muslims to provide food for others even if they themselves had to fast. I received fine food from them for almost two months. When I felt in better health, I decided to go directly to Mohammed Wazir Khan's residence to see if I might persuade the greatest of all musicians to teach me. For six months I went each day, but the sentries would not allow me to enter.
Frustrated and depressed, I decided to put an end to my life. With the one rupee I had left, I bought two ounces of opium. I visited the mosque to say my last namaz. The maulavi of the mosque asked me why I was sitting there with such a shattered face. I told him about my failure to meet Mohammed Wazir Khan, and my plan to end my life. He consoled me and gave me some food to eat. He encouraged me to try my luck again and told me that committing suicide was a great sin. Then he drafted a petition to the Nawab of Rampur on my behalf:
"My residence is in Tripura state. While in the court of Tripura, I came to know that there are many learned people in the court of the Rampur Nawab. Just as the Emperor Akbar of Delhi had the great musician Tansen in his court, so the court of Rampur has the great musician Mohammed Wazir Khan. I have come to learn the veena from him. For six months I have tried to see him by going to his gate, but the sentry does not allow me to enter. Therefore, out of grief, with my last rupee I have bought two ounces of opium with which to kill myself. Since I know it is a sin to commit suicide, I make one last appeal to the court to arrange for my musical training."
The maulavi then advised me to block the road as the Nawab Sahib went for his evening drive. I kept that appeal in my pocket for almost a month but no opportunity presented itself. Then, one evening as the Nawab was going to the club to see a drama written by Mohammed Wazir Khan, I stepped in front of his car with my hands raised. At once a policemen grabbed me. Nawab Sahib asked the police chief what the matter was. He replied that a Bengali musician was praying for his patronage. Nawab Sahib was intrigued. I gave him my appeal and the opium. The Nawab asked his secretary to read the appeal to him. After hearing it, to my surprise, he said he would not go to see the drama. He ordered his secretary to take the Begum Sahiba to the drama, and to inform Wazir Khan to come to him. Then he asked me to get in his car and took me to Hamid Manzil, his palace.
The Nawab's name was Hamid Ali Khan. He was the chief disciple of Wazir Khan, and a great scholar. He was also a great vocalist and had learned thousands of dhrupads as well as veena. He asked about my experience in music. I told him about Nulo Gopal, Habu Dutta, Lobo Prabhu, Mohammed Ali Khan and all of the others who taught me vocal music, violin, clarinet, shehnai, sarode, tabla, mridangam, etc. "Which instruments do you have with you now?" he asked. I said, "Sarode and violin." He sent me in his car to get my instruments. Then he asked me to play sarode. I played alap, jor, jhala, lari, etc. in Rag Yaman. He was overwhelmed with joy. When I played violin for him, he was amazed and said he had heard such violin playing in Europe, but never in India.
When Mohammed Wazir Khan arrived, the Nawab Sahib received him with great respect and told him that he had not attended the drama because of me. He told him about my training and my playing and recommended that he accept me as his disciple. Wazir Khan agreed. Thus, by the grace of Nawab Hamid Ali Khan I became the disciple of Wazir Khan.
Nawab Sahib arranged all the formalities of a Nara ceremony. Costly jewelry, shawls, and other valuables were presented to Wazir Khan in a golden casket at his expense. Nawab Sahib asked him to teach me veena, but Wazir Khan said that he could only teach me sarode, rabab and sursringar since the teaching of veena was confined to members of his family. With folded palms, I said, "I will not learn veena. I will only learn what you wish." He made me promise that I would not teach these arts to baijis and prostitutes. I was provided with a small house near Wazir Khan's house. When I became a disciple of Wazir Khan, the musicians who had refused to teach me earlier accepted me and showed me kindness. Though I had a place to stay, I still did not have money to eat, so I started visiting the State Band. Bandmaster Raja Hussain, a renowned dhrupad singer, offered me a job playing violin for the band two hours every morning at a salary of 12 rupees per month. It helped me a lot. However, Wazir Khan forgot me totally.
For three years, I went to his residence every morning and waited at his door from 6:00 to 10:00 a.m. In the afternoon I visited Mohammed Hussain Khan who taught me sarode, and Karim Khan, brother of the famous sitar player, Hafiz Khan who taught me many gats and taras on sitar. Wazir Khan's negligence was partly compensated by their training.
Almost fifteen years had passed since my marriage. My wife was in the full flower of her youth. As there was no news of me, my father-in-law's family decided to give her away in marriage a second time. But my wife, not wanting to marry again, tried to hang herself. She was rescued by her mother. When her brother asked her why she wanted to commit suicide, she said she did not want to marry again, that woman should not marry twice. My brother-in-law told her that according to the Islamic religion, women could marry up to five times, but my wife said that, by the power of her sindur, her real husband would come back one day. When my father-in-law's family tried to force her to marry for the second time, she fasted for eight days. Finally, they sent her away to my parents house. My parents were happy to see her and showed her their affection by telling her that she, as Allauddin's wife, was the sweetheart of the family. My father-in-law's family was annoyed when they heard this. They insulted my family by swearing never to see my wife's face again. My father asked Aftabuddin to find me to prevent shame on our family.
My brother had heard I was under the tutelage of Mohammed Wazir Khan. Aftabuddin sent a telegram explaining the situation and requesting Wazir Khan to send me home. The telegram in which Aftabuddin told him all about my father's family, everything I had given up to study music, and how devoted I was had a magical effect on my guru. He suddenly remembered my initiation as his disciple at the request of Nawab Sahib. He asked his three sons about me. They told him about my waiting to see him every day for the past three years. He asked why they had not taught me themselves. They said they did not have his permission. He ordered his second son to bring me to him.
I reached Wazir Khan's residence as quickly as possible and fell at his feet crying. He embraced me with affection and said I was not to worry, I had, in my patience, been examined by God. Then he asked me about my family life, and I began to weep. I told him that my family consisted of my parents, five brothers and two sisters. He asked me about my marriage. I felt ashamed and bowed my head. He wanted to know if I wanted to go back to my village. I told him that I could not think of going back to my village without more knowledge of music. I would return there only when he felt I had been properly taught.
He confessed he had committed a great sin by not teaching me, and said he wanted to rid himself of such karma by making me a great musician. He asked me the name of the State Musician of Tripura, and was pleased to hear it was his uncle, Kasim Ali Khan. I told him that my father learned sitar from him, and it was hearing my father play that made me want to become a musician. He said, "Because your father was a student of my uncle, in a way you are a family member," and he accepted me as his fourth son, promising to teach me veena and all the traditional compositions of his family and lineage. His sons, he said, had become lazy, pampered victims of grandeur and were no longer eager to learn. After this he taught me in private. Nothing was allowed to encroach upon the time he spent training me. I studied with great sincerity, practicing every night from 7:00 in the evening until 5:00 in the morning.
For thirty-three years, Mohammed Wazir Khan taught me all the great compositions, all the secrets of the greatest tradition in Indian music which had been passed down for hundreds of years from Mian Tansen.
Baba Allauddin Khan as a young man
The film will end with a montage of documentary footage, photos and memorabilia from Allauddin Khan's life. Over it, either a scroll or a narration (possibly by Ali Akbar Khan) will detail his accomplishments.
To this day, the classical music of India is known as Nada Brahma, "the sound of God."
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alap an introductory solo
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paltas a general term for
exercises
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