Kumar Gandharva: An enduring legacy

Perfumers of Kannauj have captured the essence of petrichor into a perfume (disarmingly called Mitti), thereby marrying an earthy experience with a refined art form. Kumar Gandharva, born near Belgaum as Shivputra Komakali on the 8th of April a hundred years ago, achieved the same feat in music by distilling the sounds of nature and folk music into raaga sangeet. The beautiful raagas he created, like ‘Malavati’ and ‘Sanjari’, and the countless bandishes he composed bear testimony to this. 

Kumarji was a child prodigy gifted with a keen musical intellect. Recordings of classical music from his childhood are astounding in their clarity and technical prowess. Just the Ramkali drut teentaal bandish ‘Sagari rain ke jaage’ would put a seasoned performer to shame. However, that was merely the tip of the iceberg. 

The famous Gwalior gharana guru B R Deodhar took young Kumar under his tutelage, and instilled the fundamentals of that gayaki in his protégé. As was expected, Kumar picked up the nuances very quickly and was en route to becoming one of the stars of his generation when disaster struck in the form of tuberculosis. It brought his singing career to a long hiatus and the fear of him not surviving the disease was very real. 

He was advised to move to Devas, Madhya Pradesh, for its climate, where for several years he was not able to sing. This silence and solitude gave Kumarji the opportunity to introspect and meditate deeply. It must have been during this phase that he got immersed in folk music, specifically of the Malwa region. He was not only very fond of that music, but was also a good performer of it, and he later took to singing them on occasion. His rendition of the Malwa wedding song ‘Sakhi gholu chandan’ is worth listening to! 

It was also during his forced exile that Kumarji took his unique ideas about raaga sangeet to the next level. We are indeed fortunate that he got access to antibiotics (considered wonder drugs then) and was nursed back to a degree of health by his first wife Bhanumati. When he returned to the concert stage circa 1953, his music was transformed. It was familiar yet distinctive, old yet new. His voice and singing capacity were limited by the havoc wrought by his illness, but his artistry had risen to new heights. And it was a great success. 

There were several critics — including his own mentor — of his gayaki, specifically of his treatment of the vilambit khayal. It is to be noted that he had to adapt to the constraints of his health. It is true that his musical phrases were forced to be short, which might make the vilambit alaapi sound incomplete. But the thoughts behind them were complete. You have to give him credit for making it work at all, and if you listen to the musical ideas being expressed through the staccato-ish phrases, they are beautiful. 

I haven’t had the fortune of listening to Kumarji live. My very first impression of him was through his singing of Nirguni bhajans on Doordarshan. This was a genre practically reinvented by him, and you can smell the rain-drenched earth in those bhajans. The memory of ‘Ud jaayega hans akela’ from that TV program is still fresh. A whole generation of singers were inspired by him to sing bhajans in that style. Kumarji has also sung many Marathi stage songs (natyageet) in his inimitable style. His duet with Vani Jayram ‘Runanubandhacha jithun padlya gaathi’ is fondly remembered to this day. 

For the Gwalior gharana segment of the iconic Films Division documentary ‘Khayal’ (1987), Zakir Hussain introduced him simply as ‘the great Kumar Gandharva’. He sang Kavan batariya geylo’ in Allaiya Bilawal. This is a staple Gwalior raaga and a canonical bandish from that tradition. The rendition is classically pure and enchanting, and another fond memory for me. It showed how close he was to his roots in spite of the new paths he had struck out on. 

Kumarji’s second wife, Vasundhara Komakali carried his musical legacy forward until her passing. His children Mukul Shivputra and Kalapini Komakali, along with a number of disciples like Madhup Mudgal and Satyasheel Deshpande are now keeping the torch lit. The government of India had conferred Padma Vibhushan on Kumarji, a well-earned recognition. 

Kumarji’s musical expression was so astounding, shining through like a beacon in the face of impossible odds that it makes one wonder about its other-worldly antecedent. His contemporary and close friend Pt Bhimsen Joshi said it best, “woh sach much gandharva the” (he was a true gandharva — celestial musician).