S.Kalidas' Archive

Bismillah Khan:The Piper Of Benaras

By S. Kalidas

In the passing away of Ustad Bismillah Khan on August 21, India has lost an enduring mascot that epitomised the very idea of the Nehruvian, composite and secular India. For the Khan sahib was not only an eminent and much loved classical musician, but also through his charismatic persona symbolised the syncretised Ganga-Jamni  tehzeeb (Hindu-Muslim culture) of this land as few others did for well over half a century. His very name, Bismillah, evoked a relationship to The Creator and indeed to all creation and creativity.

True to his name, the ustad proved to be an august beginning for the loud but once humble shehnai, the north Indian reed pipe. Till Bismillah burst on the scene around the early 1940s, the shenai had been widely used to herald auspicious occasions like court festivities, marriages and mundans. Yet, despite its universal usage as an instrument to herald good luck and festivities, the status of the shenai-player in the musical hierarchy was lowly. The shenai was ubiquitously heard, but the shehnai nawaz (player) was hardly ever seen. Through his talent and hardwork, Bismillah Khan changed that dramatically, making shenai an equal of the sitar or the sarod on the classical music platform.

Born in a small village, Dumraon, in the Buxar district of Bihar in 1916, Bismillah was initiated to shenai playing by his uncle Ali Buksh, who was attached to the Balaji temple in Varanasi. It was here that young Bismillah honed his skill and came to stay for the rest of his long and eventful life. In many ways over the decades, Banaras and Bismillah became synonymous. A devout Shia Muslim (he was for many years the President of the World Shia Conference and led the Moharram procession every year through the streets with his shenai), he was also the chosen shenai player for an ancient Hindu temple. From Banaras, too, he imbibed the rich folk music of eastern Uttar Pradesh like thumri, chaiti, kajri and dhuns that were to immortalise his repertoire all over the world including Bollywood. In his lexicon, music was the highest form of spirituality. “How can you call music haram (sinful),” he constantly argued with the orthodox Islamic clerics, adding, “If this is haram then let there be more of it.”

A gentle, simple man, Bimillah Khan lived in a large old house in Sarai Harha locality of Benaras and till his death was the main bread-winner for a joint family comprising over a hundred relatives. He was the happiest in that environment surrounded by innumerable sons, daughters, nephews and grandchildren, clad in his checked lungi and a vest smoking a beedi (in other cities he smoked Wills cigarettes) and humming a tune. In his last years, his simple lifestyle used to become an issue with the media and one television channel even made out that the government of India should take better care of this national treasure. But money was never an issue for the last many decades. Bismillah Khan was a star performer who knew his monetary worth quite well and was not shy about charging high fees professionally. Besides successive governments had bestowed the highest civilian honours on him from the Padma Shri to Bharat Ratna.

Bismillah Khansaheb’s musical legacy is more complex. That he was a virtuoso par excellence cannot be doubted. His technique and tone became the aspirational benchmarks for all shehnai players who came after him. He created a new baaj (way of playing) for shehnai by adopting many techniques of presentation and elaboration of the raga that were more usually heard on the sitar or in vocal khayal. His duets with the late sitar wizard Ustad Vilayat Khan and violinist Pandit V.G. Jog are most memorable. But yet, he was not considered by the cognoscenti as any great repository of raga vidya or traditional knowledge. He was more popular for his rustic folksy medleys. However, such was his magic that the simplest tune from Bismillah's shehnai could wash away the impact that any better pedigreed Pandit or Ustad created in the listeners mind with their complex raagdari (command over raga) or layakari (dexterity with rhythm).

“Banaras mein hi ras ghusa hai (Banaras itself has rasa —mood, colour or essence— we don't have to add it,”he used to say. With him now gone, Banaras will be for ever a trifle  colourless.