ASAD ALI KHAN Rudra Veena Believed to be crafted by Shiva, it dates back at least 5,000 years

The music was magical, the gathering of exponents a rare privilege for those present. Yet, in a sense, the melody from the range of exotic instruments on stage could well have been a dirge. Last week, as more than 40 renowned exponents of instruments like the sarangi, rudra veena, vichitra veena, pakhawaj, nagaswaram, sundari, surbahar, rabab and sursingar gathered in Delhi for an extraordinary concert, it was an occasion as poignant as it was memorable. The instruments they played, a legacy handed down for generations, are facing extinction.

In fact, the event, part of a symposium organised by the Sangeet Natak Akademi, was intended to highlight the threat. "We have tried to stress on the need to conserve instruments in decline and initiate interest among the younger generation," says Sharbari Mukherjee, deputy secretary of the Akademi. The decline is real enough, and cause for much anguish among the leading exponents. "I can't bear the thought of Indians having to learn playing the oldest instrument rudra veena from foreigners. Isn't it a shame?" asks Ustad Asad Ali Khan, one of the last surviving exponents of the double-bulb veena. The rudra veena has been depicted in temple architecture of about 500 a.d. but is said to go back at least 5,000 years. It is believed that Shiva crafted this instrument while contemplating the wondrous form of his wife Parvati.

SABRI KHAN Sarangi Losing out to the harmonium

But sadly this mother of all instruments, which is closest to the human voice, has no takers today. There are few exponents to whom the rare student can turn to. "It is not even a subsidiary subject in university curricula. So we have buried the instrument even before it is born," says Asad Ali Khan, who has only one disciple when sitar maestro Ravi Shankar has more than 20.

The glamour of instruments like the sitar, sarod and the flute seems to have overshadowed instruments like the rudra veena. "A student who learns the sitar, sarod or tabla can find a job as an accompanist or a teacher but a rudra veena artist is a solo performer and finds it difficult to eke out a living," explains the Ustad.

Similarly, the sarangi too is fighting for survival. It derives its name from the Sanskrit word sarang or the spotted deer with its many-hued hide. Others interpret it as saurang, the one with 100 colours. There are references to the instrument in old texts like Sangeet Ratnakar as well as Ain-i-Akbari. It was popular as a folk instrument long before it reached the haloed level of classical music. By the 19th century, the sarangi came to be associated with courtesans and soon became the obligatory accompaniment for khayals and thumris.

Sarangi is a difficult instrument to master. As an accompanist, the sarangi player has to learn to adapt to the styles of various gharanas. "Sarangi can reproduce human tones which sometimes overshadow the proficiency of the vocalist," says Sabri Khan, who has played with Yehudi Menuhin. The instrument regarded by Menuhin as most expressive of Indian feeling and thought, has hit a low due to the attitude of the vocalists as well as its ubiquitous rival, the harmonium. "I have serious students abroad but not in India. No prophet is accepted in his own land," laments Sabri Khan.

There are other reasons for this withering away. "Most of the music societies don't feature these instruments in their festivals. They have box-office constraints. And the government scholarships of Rs 3,000 for three years is inadequate. Three years anyway is not enough to master any instrument," declares Asad Ali Khan. Musicologist Sumati Mutatkar feels the institutions and the government pay only lip service. "The day is not far when these instruments will be found only in museums," she says.

N. RAVI KIRAN Chitra Veena Has been modified to help it survive

While the shehnai has found some prominence in concerts, another wind instrument, the sundari from Solapur, has been neglected. The double-reeded instrument is traditionally used during religious ceremonies and pageants. Pramod Gaikwad, 39, from Pune, a sundari exponent, says he has one student each from India, the US and Germany. "I feel depressed thinking of the future. Maybe we need some aggressive marketing," ruminates Gaikwad.

The gharana tradition of Indian music is also believed to have added to the predicament. "The rigidity of the gharana system has to go," says Debu Chaudhury, sitar player. Sons of musicians are not keen to continue the tradition, where both monetary and social returns are low. "When we perform at weddings, we are the last ones to partake of the feast and are looked down upon," complains a thavil player. "Sons of musicians don't feel a musician's life is dignified. Maybe if we can instil a sense of dignity in the profession it could improve the situation," suggests Mutatkar.

PRAMOD GAIKWAD Sundari Limited to religious festivals

Amid the general gloom at the Akademi symposium, suggestions on reviving the declining art forms were few. Chitra veena player N. Ravi Kiran feels that it is a challenge for the musician to reach out to the people. "I have made innovations in the veena and have been successful in fusion music," he says. Such adaptations, however, are not possible with all instruments. Sadly, most musicians believe that in the absence of maharajas and nawabs, the government should become their chief patron, not the sponsors. Corporate involvement is perhaps the only hope. The ITC-Sangeet Research Academy is a model institution where youngsters learn from a guru for years till they reach the concert stage. "It is time for business houses to fund such ventures and in return the government can give them tax rebates," says Gaikwad.

Events seem to have come a full circle. There was a time when a student had to work hard to persuade his guru to teach him the skills. Now it is the gurus who are waiting for students. "I feel blessed if I get a serious shishya who wants to carry my legacy forward," says vocalist Prabha Atre.

Finance is another hurdle. Says Santosh Banerjee, the only surbahar player from the Senia gharana: "Each stringed instrument costs more than Rs 15,000. We have to provide students, specially those from poor families, with instruments." That is easier said than done. Many instrument makers are shutting shop. Murari Mohan Adhikari from Kolkata had to down shutters because there were no orders for instruments like dilruba, esraj and surbahar. The future looks bleak. Unless something is done, William Wordsworth's musing in The Solitary Reaper may prove prophetic: "The music in my heart I bore; Long after it was heard no more."