62676

By Vineet Vyas

On the centenary of legendary Tabla Master Pandit Kishan Maharaj, I reflect on his legacy and my journey in learning the Tabla Drums.

62676. This was the landline phone number of Padma Vibhushan Pandit Kishan Maharaj in Varanasi in 1986 when my father called to inquire about the possibility of my studying with this great legendary Tabla master.

Guruji was always intrigued with number combinations that were divisible by the number 3. All the numbers associated with him - his birthday, home address, car license plate - all had a root of 3, and so did this landline number. The 3 features heavily in North Indian classical rhythmic phrases known as tihais, phrases which occur 3 times to land on the sum, the first beat of a Tala, a time cycle.

I had been studying Tabla growing up in Nova Scotia, and in 1986 (also divisible by 3), I discovered the magic of the stage. I was the youngest performer selected from across Canada to perform as part of the Canadian Heritage Festival as part of Expo ’86 – this was a World Fair held in Vancouver that drew over 22 million visitors - and I followed this up with a performance in Toronto accompanying spiritualist Shri Morari Bapu in front of an audience of 6000 people.

I was, therefore, keen to pursue my Tabla training more seriously. So, when my father, Shri Vijaya Vyas, offered me the opportunity to take a year off high school to go to India, I grabbed the opportunity, only half-realizing what a pivotal decision that would turn out to be.

My father had an LP of Ustad Vilayat Khan Sahib featuring Pt. Kishan Maharaj on Tabla. Listening to that album, I felt it epitomized the incredible complexity of Hindustani Classical music: the sheer beauty of how the sitar sang and how the tabla reciprocated with lyrical rhythmic flourishes. I felt that the artistry of both performers shone through like the sound of Temple bells on the Ganga River in Varanasi during the daily evening Aarti. The photo on the LP featured a picture of the man who would eventually become my Gurusuch a grandiose and towering image; he looked like a King, as his name suggested. The chance to learn from him seemed a golden and unique opportunity.

I arrived in New Delhi in September 1986 and stayed with Dad's elder brother, my Tauji, Prof Anand Prakash Vyas, who recently passed away. My Dad phoned Guruji’s house, and Guruji told us we could meet him in Delhi as he was coming to Delhi for five days and would be performing with the vocalists Pandits Rajan and Sajan Mishra.

Wearing black thick-rimmed glasses, Guruji sat on the floor at the Mishras’ residence, making his own paan – a sign of a man who controlled his destiny. I touched his feet and stood there. There was an aura about him, something I had never experienced before, and it compelled me to stay standing for more than 45 minutes just watching him as he meticulously prepared his paan for the day.

He was incredibly reserved and completely engrossed in what he was doing. When he glanced in my direction and saw me standing, he asked me, "Kya naam hai tumaara?" - what is your name? When I told him Vineet, he said "Baitho" – sit.

That was pretty much the extent of all he said to me over the next four days, as we met him twice every day. Literally, each day after we arrived, I would touch his feet, stand to the side, and whenever he noticed me standing, he would say, "Baitho."

A Master's touch

On the third day, we saw him perform with Pts. Rajan and Sajan Mishra – I had never attended a live vocal concert prior to this. Tabla accompaniment for vocal music is in general, very limited but even when he played in the Ati Vilambit, slow speed, his approach, weight and execution of the Tala, the rhythmic cycle, exemplified an incredible command over laya - rhythm, with such beautiful embellishments, that all listeners felt that they too, were on that journey through the Ektaal cycle – a 12 beat journey - where a cycle almost encompassed one minute.

The patience required in these sections can only be executed when one internalizes the feel of the melody. When the chota khayal began, a faster tempo section and Guruji played his Uthaan, the whole audience erupted clapping when he finished with a mesmerizing tihai. The concert took me to another realm, and I realized then, and there that I needed to learn from this legendary artist. But when my father told Guruji "Isko seekhne ka bada shaukh hai" – He is very fond of learning. Guruji’s response was "Lekin humko sikhaane ka shauk nahin" – I am not fond of teaching. Still, he agreed we could come to Varanasi, and I could live in his house, as per the traditional Guru-Shishya Parampara which would entail intense ‘riyaaz and seva,’ – practice and service under his guidance.

Before detailing what would be the most difficult yet rewarding part of my life, I would like to summarize a bit about my Guruji and how he was part of a generation who established the global presence of North Indian classical music.

His early years in Varanasi

Pandit Kishan Maharaj was born on September 3, 1923 in Varanasi – its anglicized name is Benares, and Guruji was born into a family of musicians associated with this name for the gharana or style of Tabla playing. Guruji began learning from his father, Pandit Hari Maharaj, but trained mostly with his uncle, Pandit Kanthe Maharaj, when his father passed away. When India achieved Independence in 1947, he accompanied many great artists abroad as the Indian government defined its global identity through the patronage of classical arts. Guruji was a close friend as well as an accompanist to the generation of artists who established the grandeur of Indian classical music.

He accompanied Pandit Ravi Shankar, Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, Ustad Vilayat Khan, Pt. Nikhil Banerjee, Sitara Deviji, Girja Deviji and many others. He was a contemporary of other Benares tabla stalwarts such as Pt. Anokhe Lal and Pt. Samta Prasad; these 3 men are regarded as the holy trinity of Benares Tabla playing. By the time he was 11 years old, Guruji was performing on stage.

When India achieved Independence in 1947, he accompanied many great artists abroad as the Indian government defined its global identity through the patronage of classical arts.

He could weave a completely different story by simply changing the emphasis from the downbeat to the offbeat. He was incredibly adept in working in time cycles featuring odd beats such as 11, 13, 15, 17 and 19.

The first live solo performance I heard while in Benares in 1987 was in what Guruji called Shikhar Taal of 19 beats. Witnessing his prowess and incredible performance ability at the very beginning of my stay in Benares, I realized that I was sitting at a fountain of knowledge and solidified that I needed to pursue his style of Tabla, regardless of how difficult or challenging it was.

When I first arrived in Benares in 1986 with my Dad, it seemed as though we had travelled back in time to a place where time stood still. (In fact, every time I went to Benares in subsequent years, I felt the same sentiment). We took the Kashi Vishwanath train from New Delhi, arriving at the Varanasi Cantt Station at 6 a.m.

The late Pandit Kishan Maharaj ji standing in his Tabla Ghar (Museum) - a place of homage and reflection. Guru's of the past from the rich Benares style of Tabla playing are revered & remembered with affection. The third picture from the right on the wall is a painting of the founder of the Benares Gharana of Tabla, Pandit Ram Sahai ji.

Image and Caption Source - Facebook Channel dedicated to him.

I can still visualize the train slowly entering the station; from the train’s window seat, I saw bare platforms with only vendors and red-shirted Coolies eager to carry people’s suitcases. It was an incredible sight as people from the many compartments of the train scrambled to descend upon these platforms. For 5 or 10 minutes, it was complete mayhem. People rushed from the platform to the stairs in search of the station exit, where people then haggled for rickshaws to get to their destination. I had never seen such a frenzy until that point in my quiet Canadian upbringing.

My father and I stayed at Guruji’s residence in the Garden room - bagicha wale kamre mein. There were so many things which were different from living at home. I had never been subjected to so many mosquito bites when we slept, so much so that the following day even Guruji remarked as my whole face was covered with bites.

In the front area of the house, known as the baitka, the students would sit for practice – most of Guruji’s students at that time lived locally. On one of the first evenings, we were practicing the ‘Dhatirikite taka, Dhiredhirekitetaka’ Rela and its many variations. Guruji sat listening to each student’s sound production.

Then he stopped us and told me, "Tum sunao Canadian!" – you play for us Canadian! I started playing, then he told me to play double-speed. Then he stopped me, looked at the other students, and said, "What have you all been doing? He has been here less than a week, and sabse accha baja rahe hai" – he’s playing better than everyone else! That was the best moment for my father and me in that first stage of the trip.

Soon after, though, I found it challenging to memorize the famous Benares kayda, Dheeka dhina tirikita dhina, the very first Benares pattern I was taught. Guruji looked at my father and said, "Vyas, you said he has a very sharp memory. It seems his memory is quite weak." I had been learning the Delhi style of Tabla, which has more delicate finger work, while Guruji’s Benares style is very powerful, requiring more force and physical effort.

My father left to return to Canada, and I stayed on for the next nine months. I was most selfconscious that I never did anything wrong, both in terms of Tabla material but also in my behaviour in a joint family system. I was thrust into a scenario where everything a student does is scrutinized. Guruji would often imitate me, saying, "What, what?" There were many protocols with which I wasn’t familiar. For example, one could not open the tap after eating to wash their hands; someone else had to do it for them. I had never heard of ‘load shedding’ when the electricity is turned off each day for hours, and I had never known temperatures above 30 degrees. I had no appetite in the extreme heat and developed a fever often.

I would watch airplanes in the sky and think that I could be on one of them and return to the haven of my Canadian home – there were many moments when I wondered why I had chosen to leave the comforts of Canada and pursue this arduous experience.

When I returned home, my family was at the airport, and as my mother, Brij Bala Vyas saw the people arrive from the plane, she remarked that there was a young boy who looked like he was impoverished and malnourished. When she realized that boy was me, she broke down crying at seeing my emaciated physique.

However, that length of time at my Guruji’s house allowed me to understand the depth of the instrument and the spectrum of how it accompanied all facets of music –vocal, instrumental and dance. Nothing is taught or given to you – but you can imbibe and absorb what is before you.

The traditional system of living in one’s Guru’s house is to learn from watching his example, picking up nuances. One must be immersed in that world to become it.

This is the greatness of Indian classical music: nothing is written down but passed from one human to another.

I would not have achieved this understanding by attending a weekly class and in an environment outside India. It was necessary to experience especially the Benares style of playing in its place of origin.

It took many more trips and years of training before I started to see the fruits of my labour. My first experience accompanying Guruji in Benares was in a performance on Maha Shivratri with Kathak legend Pandit Birju Maharaj at Podar Andha Vidyalaya (a school for blind children) – I revisited this experience in the Bravo! Channel’s documentary ‘Fingers of Fire’ chronicling my journey to Benares.

I felt it all worth it when Guruji told me once after a performance in his Ganesh Kaksh (Ganesh Hall) – "Tumko sikhaana vyarth nahi gaya" – it wasn’t a waste to teach you. This was the extent of his compliments, but it was enough for me to erase the dark moments of my journey.

Guruji had a firebrand personality, but he also had a tremendous sense of humour. One can see his jovial spirit in his photos with fellow artists such as Pts. Rajan and Sajan Mishraji. He lived on his own terms, always espousing that Tabla artists were no less valuable in performance just because they were accompanists. He used to say, "When you sit on stage, you should forget who is in front of you and play like a king."

My quest as a Tabla artist has been to honour my Guruji’s style and spirit. My first solo album Taalworks (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxJ3H2b5kCA&list=OLAK5uy_lygUVub9sLuT7GT146XIIFssQRQitOb44) tries to capture the spectrum of Benares Tabla repertoire. I had ceremoniously offered a copy of that CD to Guruji, and humbly said to Guruji "please accept this offering but do not listen to it."

The Late Pt. Shiv Kumar Sharma on Santoor in performance with Maharaj ji and Vineet at Saptak Festival, Ahmedabad.

The next time I saw him, he told me, "Humne sunna tumhaara CD" - I listened to your CD; I could not believe it and simply touched his feet again to seek his blessings. My second Solo Tabla album, The King of Dhamaar, pays tribute to how Guruji approached the rendition of this majestic rhythmic cycle of 14 beats. My latest album ‘Satyam’ brings to life many different rhythmic ideas in a narrative form through the classic love story of Savitri and Satyavan. This album has been nominated for a 2023 East Coast Music Award for Global Recording of the Year.

Pandit Kishan Maharaj passed away on May 4, 2008. He achieved unparalleled artistry, success, and greatness, and leaves an incredible legacy. There are many great artists carrying on the Benares tradition of Tabla, including his son Pandit Puran Maharaj, his grandson Shubh Maharaj, Pt. Kumar Bose and Sukhvinder Singh Namdhari. Throughout my journey with Tabla and Benares, I have felt incredibly blessed to have been accepted into that world. As a representative of his style of playing, I am honoured to say that along the way I became a member of his family as his disciple. The depth and beauty of this artform is so rich and expansive. Guruji’s teaching style was one where he made you realize that there were an infinite number of paths to explore with a given set of directions and it was up to you to forge your path ahead with what you heard and develop the ability to reflect and expand on what you understood.

Album Cover Artwork by Kalashree Vyas