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CURRENT
ISSUE APRIL 28, 2003
MUSIC: THUMRI
Fading Melodies
With few patrons, fewer practitioners and more
prejudices against it, the thumri is fast losing its voice
One
day while taking a ride on a tonga in Lucknow, Kathak guru Pandit Birju
Maharaj was surprised to hear the tongawallah sing a thumri. Not because
tongawallahs aren't given to classical music, but because even as an expert
he did not know the provenance of the thumri. Birju Maharaj was more astonished
to learn that it was Bindadin Maharaj's thumri. He quickly jotted down
the lyrics and notation before turning to the awed tongawallah and revealed
himself to be the grandson of Bindadin. To both of them, it became clear
that day that the thumri, the royal song of yearning and sublimation,
of lovers and courtesans, was fast approaching the "endangered" status.
LAST NOTES: Mishra (top) Savita Devi hope the
tradition of thumri will survive
Great khayal singers like Pandit Bhimsen Joshi still charm the masses
with thumris. But there are others who throw an obligatory thumri at the
audience, oblivious to its form, idiom and the structure. "Musicians are
to be blamed for presenting half-baked thumris," says Pandit Chhannulal
Mishra of the Benaras gharana. To popularise the genre, Mishra even sang
thumris in the film Let's Talk to the accompaniment of western instruments.
But it will take more measures to keep the tradition alive. The thumri
festival organised by the Indian Council for Cultural Relations in Delhi
last week was one such step.
Lack of encouragement from concert organisers is one of the many reasons
for the decline of thumri. "A thumri responds better to a mehfil than
a public concert," explains Biswajit Roy Chowdhry, curator of the Shankarlal
Music Festival held annually in Delhi. "An intimate gathering appreciates
the subtle nuances and inspires the singer." Another reason is the perception
among classicists that thumri is the preserve of women. "Thumri is considered
an effeminate art," says exponent Savita Devi. No wonder there are no
exclusively thumri male singers today. Others believe thumri is subservient
to the khayal, being a semi or light classical form. Savita Devi disagrees:
"Intricacies of technique are stressed in khayal, so there are limitations.
But thumri gives freedom to the singer."
Thumri was born in the 18th century in the United Provinces, now Uttar
Pradesh. The last nawab of Oudh, Wajid Ali Shah, not only patronised it
but composed thumris under the pseudonym Akhtar Piya. Thumri is derived
from the Hindi word "thum" representing the music emanating from anklets
and "thumak", the graceful stamping of the foot. "Ri" is from "rijhana"
or aesthetically charming. Musicologist Sumati Mutatkar traces thumri
lyrics to the kathas recited by kathakars in temples. Initially a part
of kathak, it went on to acquire a distinct musical style.
The problem with perpetuating thumri goes beyond just the passing away
of greats like Rasoolan Bai, Siddeshwari Devi and Begum Akhtar, who used
to perform at mehfils for as long as nine hours. For one, the sarangi,
the instrument long associated with thumris, is itself on the wane. The
guru-sishya parampara too is lacking. Very few singers have groomed disciples.
Even university syllabi do not stress this form. Also, many gurus are
unwilling to part with their treasure of rare compositions. In other words,
the preservation of the thumri may yet depend on accidental occasions
like an exponent coming across his grandfather's composition on a tonga.