NOTEWORTHY: Backliwal plays a quaint sarod-like instrument

Years ago, when Sharan Rani Backliwal was driving through Delhi, she noticed a frail, young man in rags singing fervently to the rhythm of a rather unusual instrument and begging for alms. His pathetic state was moving but what also held Backliwal's attention was the stringed wonder in his hand. Bringing the car to a halt, she invited the beggar home, served him a sumptuous meal and provided him with a fresh set of clothes. That done, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. Wanting to know more about the instrument, she got talking to the beggar and before she knew it, he was willing to part with it for a sum of Rs 200. That the beggar needed the money to get a sick sister treated is another matter.

A prized musical piece, the instrument was now in the hands of Backliwal, adding to an already huge collection of precious instruments she had acquired painstakingly over the years. A sarod player herself, the 74-year-old Backliwal-known in music circles as Sharan Rani or Sarod Rani-has gone out of her way to source her treasures; in Srinagar, she climbed a bamboo ladder when she was pregnant to inspect and then collect a Kashmiri saaz from a mendicant living on a machan.

But that is not what makes the Delhi-based Padma Bhusan winner's tale offbeat. What does is the reason behind her collection: the preservation and perpetuation of threatened musical traditions. Now safely moved from her Defence Colony house to the National Museum, her collection is as much a testimony to Backliwal's "selfless hobby" as it is to the defiant survival of the various instruments.

Of the many rarities displayed at the Sharan Rani Backliwal Gallery of Musical Instruments in the museum, 250 were donated way back in 1980, with the then prime minister Indira Gandhi dedicating them to the nation. Having gifted a second consignment in September, there is an unmistakable sense of deja vu for Backliwal. "For me, the instruments are like daughters who get married and move away after some time," she says softly. "I feel empty without them but I know they will be well looked after."

What pains Backliwal the most is the rapidly vanishing sanctity of music. She points out that singers no longer directly connect with the listeners. Music today is largely mediated with the invasion of radio, television, CDs and tape recorders. In the process, several instruments have also been left behind. The gallery, Backliwal hopes, will help musicians, students, musicologists and others rediscover the richness of the past and promote music as an art and science in its true sense.

The display at the museum provides ample scope for that. The Hindustani and Carnatic instruments have been classified in four groups: Tata Vadya (chordophones), Susheer Vadya (aerophones), Ghana Vadya (idiophones) and Avanaddha Vadya (membranophones). They represent different states, regions and gharanas and come from varied periods of time. Showcasing a plethora of forms, styles and aesthetic sensibilities, they allow for extensive comparisons and studies on their development.

Some of the classical antiques-acquired from sources like kabadiwalas to members of royal families-really stand out. Among them is a Mayuri sitar (dated 1850) procured from a royal family of Rajasthan. It has an unusual design with a peacock neck and ivory inlay. There is also an uncommon Durbari sitar (1850), an ornate rabab (1840) from Kashmir with a tiger's head, a brass drum with figurative panels (1800) from Rajasthan, a gilded Kachhua sitar (1850) with ivory bridges and a tortoise-like tumba and a unique sarod-like instrument (1800) from Gujarat with a metal brass finger board and a round base.

Particularly fond of the sarod, Backliwal has come a long way since her early teenage years when she learnt to play the instrument. She struggled with her love for music and dance. While her family encouraged her to learn the sarod, they would not countenance her dancing in public. She recalls how her relatives threatened to "break her legs" were she to perform Kathak and Manipuri-which she was allowed to learn-outside the house. Her passion led her to become a disciple in the Maihar-Senia gharana of Ustad Allaudin Khan and his son Ustad Ali Akbar Khan. Her love for the sarod is recorded in her book, The Divine Sarod, published in 1992.

That Sarod Rani derives much personal pleasure from music is clear. But what quite clearly gives her an equal or perhaps greater fulfilment is when she is able to share that sense of joy with others.