Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

When I first came across the extraordinary journey of Akshatha Shetty and Piyush Goswami, I couldn’t help but remember these lines penned down by American poet Robert Frost.

Once a part of the young workforce that fuels the corporate sector, the duo decided to bid goodbye to the monotony of routine work and cloistered workspaces.

They wanted to dedicate their lives to art and philosophy and find ways to bring both disciplines together to do socially relevant work.

The year was 2010 when ‘Rest Of My Family’ took flight as an idea and philosophy, and the next three years went in transforming it to something real and practical.

As the ideating went in the background, Piyush started working on various independent photography, fiction and non-fiction films, while Akshatha explored the field of journalism.

“It was during this period that we both started travelling to rural and tribal communities, as frequently as our resources allowed us to. We started sharing our findings through photo-stories. We did this for a while and initially thought that writing about social issues would draw the attention of those who have resources to make a difference to the lives of the ignored sections of the society. But over time, we became convinced that writing/documenting alone seldom results in a constructive impact on the individuals and communities that are being written about. We knew we had to do more,” says the duo to The Better India.

Akshatha and Piyush travelled and lived with families and communities—who were all strangers. However, the love and care they received led them to realise that all social and cultural walls that separate people were a human construct and didn’t really exist.

“The more we travelled and met new people, the more our social walls melted away. Over time, fear and suspicion were replaced with love and trust. We realised that everyone we met and lived with was a part of our own family. And, when someone is part of your family, just writing about their challenges and needs isn’t enough. You have to try your best to find a solution to these challenges,” they share.

In 2013, they gave up their homes, belongings and everything else that they owned to live a life on the road, and dedicated themselves to a single idea and cause—Rest Of My Family.

Three years later, they decided to embark on a nonstop one-year drive through rural and tribal India, that was made possible because of a successful crowdfunding campaign.

Since then, they have documented and lived with numerous rural and tribal communities.

“Throughout the drive, we documented various communities and issues across six states. In Maharashtra, we covered farmer issues in drought-hit regions, and in Karnataka, it was the situation of Devadasis in Koppal, and the social issues faced by the Lambani community in Chincholi. In Bastar, we documented the situation of adivasis and the Naxal-state conflict, while in Odisha it was the issues faced by the Bonda tribe. We have also covered the issue of human trafficking and other challenges near the India-Bangladesh border in West Bengal and the current situation of the Biate community in Assam,” they share.

But that’s not all. Akshatha and Piyush also try to do everything in their capacity to support communities that they document and live with.

In the last three years, they have been able to accomplish the following:

1) Sponsor the education of over 400 underprivileged children across six states.

2) Provide a community bus to a remote fisherman community in Dhanushkodi.

3) Facilitate regular medical camps through a rural healthcare program in Bastar.

4) Introduce biogas to the Bonda tribe by setting up a biogas project in Bonda Hills (Odisha).

5) Mobilise drinking water access project in arsenic contaminated areas of North 24 Parganas district (West Bengal)

6) Form the Kharthong Organic Farmers Producer Company (KOFPO) in Dima Hasao (Assam) to help farmers get fair rates for their organic produce.

Besides these remarkable projects that the duo has spearheaded in the last eight years, there is one noteworthy initiative that we’d like to particularly highlight—The Forgotten Songs Collective (TFSC).

Unfurled in 2018, TFSC is a multi-media art collective initiated by Rest Of My Family’s Artist Connect programme in collaboration with Vinayaka, an experimental electronic musician.

The programme aims to preserve, raise awareness about dying tribal and folk music and cultures of India through multi-media artist collaborations with musicians, visual artists, projection mapping artists, filmmakers and other artists.

As a part of the Artist Connect programme, an artist would have to travel with Akshatha and Piyush to remote tribal settlements in various states to tell stories of and raise awareness about different social challenges.

Additionally, they will also work towards reviving and celebrating tribal and folk music of India through musical releases and audio-visual performances.

It is entirely possible that a greater part of the country must have never heard of the Biate tribe from Assam or any of their cultural legacy. In fact, the tribal heritage of India remains obscure and underappreciated across all corners, and that is precisely what TFSC aims to change.

But what drove the duo to conceptualise a concept as unique and remarkable as TFSC?

“Our work revolves around living with, understanding, documenting and supporting tribal and rural communities. In all our years of travelling and working, we have constantly felt that folk and tribal music of India has been largely ignored and is underrepresented. These obscure music forms and songs have such unique imprints of history, culture, identity and life struggles of their respective communities. While the thought has lived with us for a long time, it began taking real shape during our first stay with the Biate tribe in Dima Hasao, Assam in 2017. During that time we met an old man named Epa Lallura in a remote village called Jahai,” they recall.

The man was a part of the last generation of the tribe that remember their folk songs, stories and rituals. He told the new visitors about how after their community’s conversion to Christianity and the increasing exposure to the modern world, a lot of their history, music and culture was being forgotten.

“Epa Lallura’s knowledge of his culture, music, nuances of their original language is unparalleled. His pain seeing his culture fade away with passing days was so real that it caught our attention. He genuinely wanted to do whatever possible to keep Biate music, and history alive. After meeting him, we knew we had to do something to address his concern for their music and culture,” they share.

They realised that the time was right for them to work with the Biate tribe as part of the TFSC programme.

“We discussed this idea with Vinayaka, who in his musical journey has been trying to find ways to tell real stories with social relevance. He was immediately on board, and the project came to life,” they explain.

Another incident that took place during their stay in Thingol further motivated them to pursue TFSC. When the Biate elders gathered to sing songs of their past and perform ancient rituals, it was their host Lalpuia’s mother who played the gong at night and sang along with the rest.

“Lalpuia stood up and danced to the rhythm. He had tears in his eyes. Ever since the death of his little brother many, many years ago, his mother had stopped singing. That particular day, when the elders gathered on a moonlit night around the fire to rekindle their past, she sang again. ‘Enu (enu in Biate means mother) never sang again after his death. Today, she did after many years,’ he said,” they reminisce.

As its first project, TFSC is working to preserve, raise awareness about and celebrate the music and culture of the Biate tribe. Next in the pipeline are the tribes of Bonda and Gond.

“We are currently in the process of gearing up to execute and document the second phase of the Biate story. With the help of collaborating musicians we hope to release fusion songs inspired by Biate songs and also share original Biate songs with the world. We are also working towards putting together performances where tribal musicians can come to the cities and perform with urban musicians,” they add.

Thanks to its journey, Rest Of My Family is a social-work-through-art organisation. Hence, bringing different art forms together for socially relevant work is quite central to everything that these folks do.

“So we are working on various formats to raise awareness about the Biate tribe, their history and their current social challenges through feature-length documentary film, photo stories and so on. To address their fading music, we felt it would be almost poetic to use state-of-the-art experimental music and visual art mediums to tell the story of ancient music forms that are disappearing,” they explain.

You may also like: How This Organisation Is Giving India’s Tribal Musicians a New Lease of Life

Under TFSC, the duo is also working towards releasing tribal-electronic-fusion EP/albums while conducting performances in the cities where the tribal musicians perform and showcase their music in front of the country and world.

“A collaboration just seemed like the way to go forward. We need to come together to celebrate such musical diversity and what better way than bringing different artists and art forms together,” they say.

Akshatha and Piyush also observed that the younger Biate generation was slowly losing interest in their cultural identity and music. So, they believe that such collaborative efforts will also generate interest in their hearts and minds by helping them see that everything that is old is not outdated and meaningless and should be celebrated.

You can check out the first episode of TFSC here:

To know more about Rest Of My Family, you can look up their website and Facebook page.

(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)

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On August 15, 1988, after the then Prime Minister, Rajiv Gandhi, finished his address to the nation from the Red Fort, a soulful melody took the nation by storm.

For most Indians who watched the broadcast on Doordarshan, the opening lines of Mile Sur Mera Tumhara, belted out by the legendary Hindustani classical vocalist Pandit Bhimsen Joshi continue to stand the test of time.

And even now, three decades later, when one plays the grainy video of this musical tribute on Youtube, it invokes the same spirit of pride in the culture and heritage of our country, as it did for those in 1988.

Here are some incredible facts about how the inception of the 6-minute song came about and why it continues to resound in the heart of every Indian as an unofficial anthem:

The origin of the song

The idea originated from a conversation between the former PM and his friend, Jaideep Samarth.

Samarth, who was also a Senior Executive at the advertising behemoth Ogilvy Benson & Mather (now O&M), decided to approach the national creative head of the company-Suresh Mullick, about the project.

Mullick got top ad film-producer Kailash Surendranath on-board and the duo set the wheels rolling after a meeting with Pandit Bhimsen Joshi.

In an interview with Sandeep Goyal for Campaign India, Kailash added that when he and Mullick met Pandit Bhimsen Joshi for the project, the musical legend got back within a matter of a few days.

He had composed almost 45 minutes of music based on Raag Bhairavi.

“It was a soul-stirring composition and I had the difficult task of snipping it down to a mere 30 seconds. It became the core of the composition which was then passed on to other composers for music in different languages.”

The song, apart from Hindi, was sung in languages from different parts of India including Assamese, Bengali, Gujarati, Kannada, Kashmiri, Malayalam, Marathi, Marwari, Odia, Punjabi, Sindhi, Tamil, Telugu, and Urdu.

The lyrics of the song were to be penned by Pandit Vinod Sharma. But a young account manager at Ogilvy, Piyush Pandey, who was asked to be in touch with Sharma, wrote the lyrics himself when he noticed a lag in the process.  It took 18 drafts, before the final version made the cut!

Penning ‘Mile Sur Mera Tumhara,’ opened up avenues for Pandey who steadily climbed the popularity charts. Conferred the Padma Shri in 2016, he now serves as the Executive Chairman and Creative Director of Ogilvy South Asia.

The six-minute video featured top personalities from different fields.

Actors Kamal Haasan, Revathi, Amitabh Bachchan, Mithun Chakraborty, Jeetendra, Waheeda Rehman, Hema Malini, Tanuja, Sharmila Tagore, Shabana Azmi, Deepa Sahi, Om Puri, Dina Pathak, and Meenakshi Seshadri graced the screen.

It also featured Indian classical dancer Mallika Sarabhai, cartoonist Mario Miranda, filmmaker Mrinal Sen and authors Sunil Gangopadhyay and Annadashankar Ray.

Musicians and vocalists who became a part of the project included Bhimsen Joshi, M Balamuralikrishna, Lata Mangeshkar, Suchitra Mitra, and Kavitha Krishnamurthy. Last but certainly not the least, sportspersons Narendra Hirwani, S Venkataraghavan, Prakash Padukone, Ramanathan Krishnan, Arun Lal, PK Banerjee, Chuni Goswami, Syed Kirmani, Leslie Claudius and Gurbux Singh appeared in the video too.

You May Also Like: #IconsOfIndia: An Unforgettable Typewriter That Became A Symbol of Modern India

Mile Sur Mera Tumhaara also made a mark for its stark and appealing visual representation.

Kailash Surendranath, who had already carved a name for himself in the ad business with exceptional commercials like Liril and Wah Taj, added a golden feather to his hat with ‘Mile Sur Mera Tumhara.’

In the same interview with Goyal, he recalls how Kamal Haasan’s cameo in the video was completely unplanned. When the ad film producer met Carnatic vocalist and musician M Balamuralikrishna, (who sang the Tamil part in the song), he was shocked to see Kamal Haasan with him. The star from the South told Kailash how he was only accompanying his ‘guru’ to the shoot.

When asked about being featured in the video, Haasan humbly added that he wanted to only sit as a chela, listening in rapt attention to the legend. He didn’t want to hog the limelight in the video.

Kailash praises yesteryear A-listers Amitabh Bachchan, Jeetendra and Mithun for their cooperation, humility and professionalism too.

When Doordarshan had written to these biggies to be a part of the video, they not only responded but also reached Mehboob Studios on time, with their own wardrobe. They shared the same screen for the song and completed the shot within five minutes!

The legend of the Liril Falls

The opening scene of the song shows Pandit Bhimsen singing near a waterfall. For those of you intrigued about the location of the shot—it was the same waterfall where the Liril commercial was recorded. This is the Pambar Falls in Kodaikanal, popular as the Liril Falls.

Getting Lata Mangeshkar on board

While Kavitha Krishnamurthy lent her voice for the female actors in the song, Kailash and team were eager to have Indian playback singer and music director, Lata Mangeshkar sing too.

The veteran singer was on the road and the possibilities of a collaboration were slim due to her hectic schedule. But she was gracious to come back to Mumbai just in time, three days before the song was to go live.

“She arrived at the studio in her Indian flag-pallu white saree. I shot and recorded her in the studio in that dress and that is what you see in the film,” says Kailash.

An IAF helicopter was used for the aerial shot of Taj Mahal

This is perhaps one of the most hilarious anecdotes from the shoot. When the makers wanted to get an aerial shot of the Taj Mahal, there faced a crisis. According to protocol, no plane was allowed in such close vicinity to the historical monument.

Kailash flew to Agra to meet the Air Marshal who allowed him to take the aerial shot from an IAF helicopter, free of cost. Sadly, the officer got into hot water for this. Kailash helped him out of the problem by paying for the ride.

Also Read: Binaca, the Iconic Toothpaste That Lives On Through India’s Most Loved Radio Show

The jumbo stars and the mahout who was the actual singer

Literally, the ‘biggest’ highlight of the video were the elephants in the film, who were shot in Periyar National Park. The mahout in the film was also the actual singer who sang the Malayalam part of the song.

Railway fans! Did you know that two iconic trains made a cameo in the film too?

On Suresh Mullick insistence, the film also shot the then newly-inaugurated Calcutta metro, the first Indian transit system of its kind. The film also shows the much-loved Deccan Queen chugging along a river.

Phir Mile Sur

Two decades after its debut, the song was re-recorded for telecast on January 26, 2010 by Zoom TV. The new version Phir Mile Sur Mera Tumhara featured a newer generation of Indian musicians, singers, sportspersons and film personalities and was 16 min 17 sec long! It was directed by Kailash Surendranath himself with the new version retaining the original music composer Louis Banks.

Watch this version below!

Did the music make you nostalgic too? Don’t forget to tell us about your favourite memories in the comments!

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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As a kid, growing up I hardly had shoes on my feet,

But I’ve seen bullet holes on church walls and a body in my street,

Follow me on a journey down memory lane homie,

I grew up around killers throwing parties with heist money,

I don’t mean to promote violence nor provoke some sort of rivalry

So far you’ve heard just a bit of my autobiography

These lyrics may seem to belong to a song right out of the projects of Bronx, New York. However, they are the words of Ritik Roy Malngiang (aka Big Ri), one half of the legendary Shillong-based Hip Hop group called Khasi Bloodz in the song ‘Anthem For The Northeast.’

This song was a collaborative project involving fellow Shillong-based rap crews Cryptographik Street Poets and Symphonic Movement, Kolkata-based folk rapper and producer Vikramjit Sen (aka Feyago), and Guwahati-based producer Rajdeep Sinha (aka Stunnah Beatz).

The likes of Big-Ri have seen bullet holes in church walls and murderous insurgents celebrating with ‘heist money.’ These are their authentic lived realities.

In a 2016 interview with 101 India, he spoke about how his family rented a house to a group of people, who they later realised were insurgents.

“We didn’t view them as insurgents back then. They had the public’s full support. They were like the law enforcement of this whole area around here,” says Big-Ri.

Feyago, an artist who won the Best Hip Hop Act at the VH1 SoundNation Awards in 2014 and has extensively performed all over the Northeast, reemphasised this observation in a conversation with The Better India.

“Our subject matter is very close to what rappers on the streets of New York were spitting in the 1980s and 90s on issues of gun violence, drugs, unemployment, liquor, political corruption, and violence. These kids have witnessed gunfire and drugs.

In Manipur, I saw little kids with syringes in their arms and guns in their hands. I’ve seen bombs go off. I’ve also done a show at a venue which was bombed, and no artist wanted to perform there. I returned to the venue a year later after the explosion, and the area below the stage was filled with the armed police. This is their lived reality,” he adds.

From Mumbai to Shillong

The release of the much anticipated Hindi feature film, Gully Boy, has brought Hip Hop, which first originated on the mean streets of Bronx, New York, in the late 1970s, to the forefront of mainstream Indian pop culture.

While fans all over India are genuinely excited about what the movie will do for Hip Hop culture in the country, the buzz about Gully Boy does bring home is how much difference language and geography make.

Long before kids were rapping on the streets of Mumbai, there were youngsters in Shillong and Aizawl who were dropping verses on street corners.

The late Michael M Sailo, an MC and singer from Mizoram who went by the stage name of Ace Man, was tearing it up in not just his home state, but also in cities like Hyderabad, Mumbai, Bangalore, and Chennai. The buzz he generated at the time was mostly word of mouth.

For Andrew Lyndem (aka P.O.E.M, which stands for Prophet of Esoterical Metaphors), who is one-half of the Cryptographik Street Poets alongside Ratul Hajong (aka Grey Jaw Ripper), one of the early pioneers of the Shillong Hip Hop scene was Eric Mason (aka Da 8th Theory) from the 2000s.

“With regards to a Hip Hop space or venue in Shillong, apart from street corners and alleys where we would drop bars among fellow rappers, there weren’t any,” says Andrew, speaking to The Better India.

When you visit the Northeast, it is imperative to understand that music, fashion, and the creative arts are deeply embedded in the consciousness of the people, irrespective of genre.

There is real talent all over, and someone from every neighborhood is doing something productive associated with the creative arts.

They didn’t have to wait for Gully Boy or Honey Singh to show up for them to take to Hip Hop. They’ve been doing it for years and weren’t oriented towards marketing themselves like mainland indie artists in the 1990s.

They were essentially ‘pure artists’ who love their craft and cared little for promotion, and this is why there is very little recorded proof of rappers there.

To add to that, because of the small communities, constant social upheavals and little to no thriving businesses, no aspiring rapper could go to his parents and say ‘I want to be a rapper and make a living off it.’

However, this is now changing. The walls are breaking down, and the internet has played a critical role.

Because of the Internet

The internet is the single vessel which can carry an artist’s talent into the public domain. It’s the easiest and effective way for them.

In fact, Cryptographik Street Poets, one of the pioneers of the Hip Hop movement in Shillong alongside the Khasi Bloodz, may not have ever come to life if it weren’t for the internet.

“Back in the day, there used to be an online rap community-based in India called Insignia Rap Combats. This community was first started in the now-defunct Orkut where rap artists from India as well as other parts of the world would have text/audio battles with each other and get community props, virtual points, and community ranks. Ratul Hajong (aka Grey Jaw Ripper) was a member of that community, and when I joined the community, I noticed that he too was from Shillong, so I connected with him, and we met up in 2009. About a year later, in August, we started Cryptographik Street Poets, and the rest is history,” says Andrew (aka P.O.E.M).

Even though the region is physically cut off from the mainland, after the emergence of the internet, Hip Hop artists from the Northeast have established a significant online presence.

Little surprise that it wasn’t until the 2008-2012 period that Hip Hop started taking root in Shillong.

New artists and bands started popping up in sites like Soundclick and Reverbnation online, while local events began including local rappers in their lineup.

“However, it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it gives you a real opportunity to reach out to millions. But it’s such an ultra-competitive space forcing you to think about where you are going to get the budget to release your next batch of music, which makes you take silly decisions. You can’t just sit back, make music and let it out from the confines of your room. You have to plan your entire promotion strategy beforehand” says Feyago.

A critical element of the promotion process is music videos. In a country where you come across hundreds of logos the moment you wake up, an artist cannot afford to release a substandard or no video at all.

One complaint Feyago has is that artists in the Northeast are unwilling to promote themselves.

“For example, if I walk into a cafe in Shillong, I will hear a guitar player playing Stairway to Heaven as well as Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin, but then I can’t find him at any music festival. Artists here need to develop that go-getting attitude. They must be willing to put themselves out there instead of letting other mediocre artists from the mainland take their place,” he says.

However, the Khasi Bloddz which includes the aforementioned Big-Ri and Donbok Kharkongor (aka D-Bok), are exemplifying how it’s done.

After they got famous, they did not go ahead and release an album on a mainstream label but generated about Rs 7 lakh through a crowd-funding initiative.

This was a highly intelligent move because not only did this give them creative freedom, but also the opportunity to release a proper album with real production quality and shoot top-notch music videos.

Break the Walls Down

“While touring the Northeast, each city that I visited, people knew of the genre, and some were even doing it. So, for every show, I started to get local artists to perform the opening act. This was an attempt to get audiences more invested in the genre by seeing people from their tribe or culture performing on stage. Eventually, it almost became imperative for any of my shows to have two local opening acts. I’ve also met several rappers who never thought that they could make a career out of it, but when they see me performing and touring, they think ‘yes, we can do it as well,’” says Feyago.

Now, there are hundreds of rappers everywhere in the Northeast. However, making it professionally is still a difficult task. Until recently the Khasi Bloodz were making and selling burgers to canteens, cafes, and restaurants to buy recording equipment, while Andrew works as a web designer.

But it is hard to deny real potential.

“We had a rap battle in Arunachal, and this kid called Kekho Thianmkho, aka K4 Kekho, won. He was driven. His dad was there at the time, telling him that this was a total waste of time. However, when the boy went to his dad with the winner’s cheque, what we saw was a parent eventually seeing this as something his son could pursue in the future,” he adds.

Also Read: The Intriguing Story of How Hindi Emerged as The Lingua Franca of Arunachal!

Kekho, a 23-year-old rapper from Lower Chinhan in Tirap district, Arunachal Pradesh, burst onto the scene with his track ‘I am an Indian,’ tackling racism and reclaiming his Indian identity with lyrics laced with dark humour and stinging social commentary in Hindi tinged with colloquial Arunachali.

The video has over half a million views on YouTube.

I am Indian. Well, not really

Racism, xenophobia, and questions of identity make up a lot of the subject matter rappers in the Northeast address. Many young artists are confused about their roots.

They grow up in India, know mainstream Hindi songs, the national anthem and feel like a part of the Indian mainstream. But the mainland, which is threatened, intimidated and a little distant, does not want to recognise them. They see Northeasterners as people who don’t look like them, talk like them, dress like them and frankly, exude an advanced level of musicianship that they don’t possess.

While there are fundamental differences in food, culture, and tradition across India, the mainland is more accepting of the South because its thriving businesses and industries offer opportunities for folks from the North to profit, unlike the Northeast.

However, this is changing now.

Economic opportunities are opening up. Artists from the Northeast have worked in movies like ‘Pink,’ acts like Khasi Bloodz have been roped in for a Puma advertisement, actor John Abraham is helping establish and promote the North East United football club, and a whole host of mainland artists have made their way to the Northeast.

Beyond racism and questions of identity, a lot of the lyrical content is an expression of where they are from and the socio-political realities they face.

“Shillong has definitely influenced (and still is influencing) our music content, no doubt. We incorporate what we see, hear and experienced growing up and living in Shillong on our lyrics. Right from political issues to the social challenges to the street culture here, we referenced them in our music. Even though we try to keep our music content diverse, we do rap about political issues going on here in Shillong quite often. One of the first issues we rapped about was on Uranium mining as well as the blatant corruption going on in in the state,” says Andrew, aka P.O.E.M of the Cryptographik Street Poets.

Take Borkung Hrangkhawl (aka BK), who in many ways is Tripura’s very own rap pioneer, whose breakout single “The Roots (Chini Haa)” crossed 100,000 views in 2013 within a week. The song references the socio-political situation of the minority, indigenous people of Tripura. Chini Haa means ‘Our Land’ in the Kokborok dialect of the Tiprasas community.

So, you do have the underground Hip Hop music scene dealing with social and political conflicts, while on the other hand there is a lot of talk about fashion, style, swag and other material desires.

English ya Vernacular?

The debate between rapping in the vernacular and English is an old one in the Indian Hip Hop scene, and it’s no different for rappers from the Northeast.

For many music critics, it is inauthentic for Indians to rap in English. However, P.O.E.M of CSP does not agree with this assertion.

“We have been releasing music with Khasi/English/Bilingual content since we first started the group. In my opinion, I don’t think it’s a requirement that a songwriter has to produce content in the vernacular (unless the artist wants to write in the vernacular of course) since that would make it somewhat of a rule and I strongly feel that art should never have rules. For me personally, when I write a song, the language that I’d use depends on what and how I want to express that song,” he says.

Their debut music video “Poison Thoughts,” for example, has a verse in Khasi. Also, the flute played in the hook is a Khasi flute instrument, and the flautist is the talented Bah Benedict Hynniewta.

“Many artists are in a quandary because they don’t know their own language, lack understanding of their own culture, and grew up listening to Western Hip Hop. You will always sound better in your native tongue, even if you can speak English fluently. So, if you have the opportunity to learn your own native languages, work out rhymes and improve your vocabulary there, then I’d say it’s worth it. If you want more success, the vernacular hits the heart a lot harder. It reaches a wide range of people instead of just rap fans,” says Feyago.

He gives the example of Despacito, a Spanish pop song released in 2017 which took the world by storm, “How many of us understand the language? It doesn’t matter. An American or Canadian can enjoy a Khasi song if it’s made well,” he adds.

There are similar concerns when it comes to production as well. Much of the production in the Indian Hip Hop scene seems like an imitation of American Hip Hop. Nonetheless, what we must understand is that many of the top producers in India are still very young and with Indian Hip Hop culture at still a nascent stage, imitation is only natural. As they mature, so will their sounds.

“The West heavily influences a lot of Hip Hop production in India, but like any genre of music first making a major splash in India, people will evolve and move closer to their cultural roots,” says Feyago.

Sampling music from old tracks is the foundation of Hip Hop in America. However, unless you have industry connections, it’s impossible to sample say an old Hindi song and compose beats on top of it because of copyright issues. Producers are aware of this fact.

“I went into folk rap because I didn’t have samples as a producer. I also realised that when it comes to folk music samples, we have unlimited choices that aren’t bound by copyright. So, my samples came from someone’s grandmother in Lower Assam or a folk singer in Arunachal. You can release one song each day with a unique sample for the rest of your life. That’s how much is available there,” he says.

Check out his collaboration with the late Baul folk artist Tarak Das Baul below:

Of course, it’s not easy carrying recording equipment and acquiring the necessary finance to travel to some corner of Nagaland and record a folk sample. It takes real graft.

However, the step towards folk music could open opportunities for Indians wanting to rap in English. Millions have rapped over a 4/4 beat, but rapping over a beat based on unconventional folk rhythms could create that authenticity artists are looking for.

Where Does This Leave the Northeast?

It’s a waiting game. As more opportunities open up for artists from the Northeast, who are now getting enlisted by major talent management companies like OML, their words and sounds will evolve.

The sincere hope here is that with the release of Gully Boy, mainstream audiences will dabble more with the genre and subsequently move onto protagonists of the Hip Hop movement in the Northeast, who have long carried the torch of Indian Hip Hop.

As one rapper said, “Everybody knows Divine/Still nobody know D-Mon.”

Well, after reading this piece, one does hope that mainland audiences will now bother to find out more about D-Mon.

(Edited by Vinayak Hegde)

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Having studied in central schools across the length and breadth of the country, thanks to my father, an ex-defence personnel, singing patriotic songs regularly was an intrinsic part of my school life. A fact, I’m pretty sure, most people who have, and still study in government schools would vouch for.

Patriotic songs are usually limited to occasions like Independence Day or Republic Day celebrations in other schools but not for us Central schoolers!

From Sare Jahan Se Achha or Vande Mataram, I can go on with the list of the songs that I sang during countless morning assemblies.

But if there is one song that has stood the test of time and continues to evoke the same sense of love for the country, it is the heart-wrenching Ae Mere Watan Ke Logon.

The hauntingly ethereal quality of the song stemmed from the vocal cords of the legendary Lata Mangeshkar.

Coupled with Mangeshkar’s mellifluous voice were the powerful, hard-hitting lyrics of Kavi Pradeep that famously moved Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru to tears.

Very few people know the origin of the song which has remained, to this date, synonymous with Mangeshkar. Poet Pradeep penned the song shortly after the 1962 Indo-China war, as a tribute to the soldiers who had died defending the country.

For a country still agonising over a defeat in the war, the song acted as the perfect wake-up call asking the citizens to overcome their anger and rise in solidarity for the fallen.

However, from its composition to its overwhelming performance, the song has a fascinating story behind in which Pradeep had a crucial role to play.

Born as Ramchandra Narayanji Dwivedi, Kavi Pradeep, already a renowned poet and songwriter by then, was left aggrieved and devastated by the war.

Amongst the thousands who had been martyred during the war, it was the sacrifice of Param Veer Chakra, Major Shaitan Singh Bhati that had moved Pradeep to pen down the lyrics of Ae Mere Watan ke Logon.

An account claims that Pradeep had been walking along the Mahim beach in Mumbai when the words exploded into his head. Borrowing a pen from a fellow stroller, he wrote the first stanza of the song on the foil from a pack of cigarettes.

After a few weeks, producer Mehboob Khan approached Pradeep for a song for a fundraising event that he had organised at National Stadium. Though Pradeep readily agreed, he told Khan that no further details of the song would be disclosed.

He teamed up with composer C Ramchandra and roped in Mangeshkar to sing the song.

However, a misunderstanding arose between the composer and the singer, who then walked out and Asha Bhosle stepped in. But Pradeep was adamant on Mangeshkar as he felt that hers was the only voice that could do justice to the song and was relentless in his pursuit of convincing the singer.

When Mangeshkar finally heard the song that Pradeep sang in front of her, it is said that she broke down and agreed at once—only on the condition that Pradeep would have to be present in all the rehearsals. And the rest is history!

On 27 January 1963, Mangeshkar sang the song in public for the very first time in the presence of Nehru and other eminent dignitaries during the Republic Day celebrations at the National Stadium in New Delhi. The Prime Minister was moved to tears upon listening to the soulful rendition. Sadly, Pradeep never got to see the overwhelming response, as he wasn’t invited to the event.

However, the man would get the opportunity to sing the song two months later in front of Nehru in Mumbai, when the PM was attending a school function.

Pradeep also presented an original handwritten copy of the poem to Nehru that day.

While Pradeep, in his career spanning five decades, wrote over 1,700 songs, it was this song that would truly make him a legend amongst the songwriters in the country.

You may also like: Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay: Remembering the Legend Who Wrote Vande Mataram

Ae Mere Watan ke Logon would go on to become one of the greatest patriotic songs of the country, and in recognition of his work, the government of India bestowed Pradeep with the honour of ‘Rashtriya Kavi’ (National Poet).

While Pradeep may not be alive today, his legacy lives on. Revisit the overpowering sense of gratitude to the fallen soldiers that this iconic song invokes here:

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Ladakh officially opened itself to the world in 1974 when the Government of India first allowed tourists into this strategically sensitive high-altitude region.

However, in 1972, a young and ambitious 19-year-old Phonsok Tsering Dimbir, popularly known as Phonsok Ladakhi, decided to plunge into the world of cinema, seeking admission into the prestigious Film and Television Institute of India (FTII). It was a time when Ladakh didn’t even have a cinema hall with the good old Radio as the only source of entertainment. Many of you may not have ever heard of him, but Phonsok was Ladakh’s first true representative in mainstream Indian popular culture.

Performing across a host of minor roles in Bollywood movies through the late 1970s like Khel Khel Mai, Uchi Udaan, Shalimar and Kachhey Herai, Phonsok would go onto become a household name in the late 1980s, acting in Doordarshan-sponsored television shows like Intezaar and Paramveer Chakra.

Phonsok would later become a pioneer of popular Ladakhi music, produce his own television series, craft numerous documentaries on Ladakh, compose the regimental song for the Ladakh Scouts and eventually dedicate his life to spreading the gospel of yoga and meditation.

Born on November 14, 1953, in Chemrey village of Leh district, Phonsok spent the first 12 years of his life there. Subsequently, he went to the famous C.M.S Tyndale Biscoe Memorial High School in Srinagar, where he passed his matriculation.

“In those days, we didn’t have cinema halls in Ladakh, just the radio but I devoured the radio, listening to all the popular Bollywood songs of the day, particularly those composed by SD Burman saab. That’s what drew me to the arts early on, and helped me realise there is more to this world than becoming a doctor or an engineer,” he says, in an exclusive conversation with The Better India.

“All people from the mountains have an innate sense of rhythm,” he adds. Following his matriculation, he went to college in Jammu, where his passion for cinema and desire for stardom first took shape. One of the first movies that really inspired him was the 1969 film, Aradhna, starring the megastar Rajesh Khanna.

“Back in the day, I thought I looked like Rajesh Khanna. I would spend less time in college and more in the cinema halls watching all his films. Also, at the same time, the legendary Danny Denzongpa had also made his mark in the film industry after graduating from FTII, Pune. This drove my desire to become not just an actor, but a star,” says Phonsok.

Phonsok also says that though many want to become an actor, yet few have the courage to follow through on their impulse.

“Acting is a very uncertain profession, and people would rather take the safe way out. But I jumped into the profession, and took a chance,” he adds.

Hard struggle

In 1972, he applied for FTII and was lucky enough to be accepted into the Institute alongside the legendary Tom Alter and Benjamin Gilani. Phonsok claims that they were the only three among 1,200 people who had applied for FTII in Delhi to get admission.

Learning acting from veteran theatre personalities like Roshan Taneja, he finally graduated from FTII in 1975. Initially, he landed a few minor roles, but it was a hard struggle.

“Getting roles was challenging, and I struggled a lot in Bombay (Mumbai) working side by side as an assistant teacher in a local acting school. My struggles in Bombay, however, turned me into a more resilient person. I saw hunger, difficult challenges, and days when there was no work forthcoming. There was one year, where I changed my place of residence nine times, got evicted by my landlords on each occasion because of my inability to pay the rent,” he recalls.

The first role he landed was in the 1977 film Khel Khilari Ka, starring Dharmendra. It was a small part, where he played Shakti Kapoor’s brother on screen.

“However, I never quite clicked as a star in the industry. At some level, I always had an intuition that I wouldn’t become a star, and that, coming from Ladakh, I would do something for the region, and the people of the Himalayas. Despite my struggles, I never lost faith. I took recourse to yoga and meditation, and surrounded myself with great friends like Tom Alter, who was very dear to me,” reminisces Phonsok.

Moreover, during this intense period of struggle, at no point did he feel discriminated against or suffered at the hands of racial prejudice.

Danny Denzongpa was a star when I came to Bombay. When he became famous no one doubted people who looked like me. He liberated us. When Danny’s fame was rising, nobody took my desire to become an actor as a joke. I never felt discriminated against, but at some level, my features did stand in the way to getting roles. For example, I could not play the role of a blood relative. No one would cast me as Hema Malini’s brother, he recalls.

“As Danny grew in stature playing negative roles, people also thought I’d reach those heights, and they treated me that way. Unfortunately, it never quite worked out for me.

“After struggling for nearly a decade in the film industry, it was television that saved me,” he adds.

Television, filmmaking and music

Things really picked up for him with the advent of television in India, starring in Doordarshan sponsored serials like Intezaar in 1989, where he played a Ladakhi and even had the opportunity to sing a couple of Ladakhi songs.

“With the arrival of television, my frustrations came to an end and found a different medium to express my talents. The TV offered us struggling actors with another avenue to express our talents. These avenues brought my insecurities to an end,” says Phonsok.

A few years later another show called Paramveer Chakra happened, where he played the role of Dhan Singh Thapa, a recipient of the gallantry award. Following this, he acted in a few more TV serials, working with luminaries like Saeed Mirza.

From here on, Phonsok came into his own, producing his television serial, making a 10-episode series on the Ladakh Scouts, government-sponsored films and multiple documentaries on Ladakh.

For Phonsok, acting isn’t merely a performance, but a source of spiritual regeneration.
“Through acting, I learnt to tap into my subconscious. Within that subconsciousness, our fears, plus points and weaknesses are hidden. If you can break the shackles there, you can become a better actor. Through acting, I learnt how you can tackle the source of all your fears that are seeped within your subconscious and deliver a good performance on screen. Not only does that make you a better actor, but a better person as well,” he says.

From acting and filmmaking, he also made his mark in popular regional music, which resonated with both the Ladakhi and Tibetan community in India. He was indeed a pioneer of modern Ladakhi music.

“He [Phonsok] is known for an influential style of popular song that incorporated the film-style ghazal with either Ladakhi language lyrics or with Hindi lyrics and Tibetan Buddhist themes,” writes Noé Dinnerstein for Himalaya, the Journal of the Association for Nepal and Himalayan Studies.

“His Hindi-language songs ‘Om mani padme hum‘ and ‘Namo namo‘ (the latter praising the Dalai Lama) are perennial favourites and are accessible to both communities in Hindi, the lingua franca of North India. Hence, there is an assertion of a common Tibetan Buddhist culture,” the paper goes onto add.

He would even go onto compose the regimental song for the Ladakh Scouts called Zinda Kaum, for which received a letter of commendation from the Chief of Army Staff in 2017. “Every war India has fought, soldiers from Ladakh have always stood tall. With these thoughts, I had composed a song and would sing it to the regiment boys,” he says.

However, his foray into music was an accident.

“When I had no work as an actor in Bombay, I was lucky enough to meet a friend, who took me to a music teacher. Those lessons honed my talents in music, learning various vocal techniques like Sargam. Besides learning how to sing, I was also an assistant to Professor Roshan Taneja, who was a very well known instructor at FTII and would, later on, open his own school of acting. I learnt music by accident when I had nothing to do,” he says.

Also Read: Inspiring! Ladakh Mason Quits Job to Save 70+ Abandoned Animals With His Own Funds

A Content Existence

Today, he is a visiting faculty at FTII, teaching acting to aspiring actors. He also travels around the country teaching the craft in places ranging from Jammu & Kashmir and Uttarakhand to Goa. Meanwhile, back home in Leh, he runs a hotel, which also doubles up as a yoga centre.

Practising Vipassana for the past three decades, he is also a founder member of a Vipassana meditation centre in the Saboo area of Leh. However, his wish is to open an FTII-like school in Ladakh.

Even though real stardom in Bollywood eluded him, Phonsok remains a very content man. That feeling of contentment does not merely come from the diverse range of work he has done since but also from a deep-seated sense of inner peace.

“Any profession you take up, you must be honest. At no point, you must resort to deception or take shortcuts. If you stay on the path of truth, you will attain true happiness. Irrespective of your circumstances, you will excel in your profession provided you maintain an honest, moral core. That’s my message to all youngsters,” he says.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Savera hote hi nikal jaate ghar se
Suljhane woh apne mehnat ki paheli
Wakai mein mehnati hai ye Dharavi
Karte hai sab hi yaha kal ki tayari

Bachpan se atrangi sab hai yaha
Mehnat karenge par jhukenge na

Mere hood jaisa kuchh nahi

The sun is setting down in Mumbai, and the local trains are abuzz with the crowd going back home. The roads are busier than ever as the city that never sleeps comes to life. At the backdrop of this never-changing scene, Nil, Prathamesh, Rakesh and Yogesh meet at their usual Shivaji Park adda. As soon as you catch a glimpse of them, you will be able to guess their passion correctly.

They have their jackets and caps on—even though the Mumbai weather is hot as ever. Bandanas on their wrists, neck or forehead and stylish first copy shoes. The rappers from Dharavi are practising their latest track in the public park.

“We don’t want the sympathies. We want people to look at our talent because frankly, we have loads of it,” replies Prathamesh Ghodke one of the Mtown Breakers, when I asked him about their backgrounds and the struggles they face daily.

M-town breakers came together towards the end of 2016 when Manas Dhiwar, a Hip-Hop choreographer from Dharavi, Mumbai, grasped the potential of the four rappers who consulted him individually. The common thread binding them together? All of them wanted to create a revolution of sorts through their songs.

“MC Prat (Prathamesh’s alter ego) did not know the other rappers. They would consult me because I am an experienced hip-hop artist. The boys were rapping their issues away but at a very personal level. In 2016, I decided to bring them together as M-town breakers,” Manas shares.

The breakers are not just a rap group. Instead, it is a 10-member crew of b-boy dancers, beatboxers, singers and graphic artists coming together.

Their latest song, ‘Mere Hood Jaisa Kuch Nhi’ is an excellent example of how all these talents come together to voice their struggles, their passion and their idea of home.

Except for Manas, who dropped out of his bachelor’s degree to pursue his passion for hip hop, 9 of them are students, struggling to learn the notes and chapters to score well in exams. Prathamesh also helps his mother in her tiffin service business, finding whatever little time he can, to write and rehearse.

“We all have different issues to raise, and we find our voice in rap,” MC Prat says. “All of us are between 18 to 22 years of age, and although we come from the same part of Mumbai, we have seen different worlds growing up. For example, I found my voice in rap when the horrible Nirbhaya rape case happened in Delhi. From that point onwards, I have been voicing my dissent against issues of women’s safety, financial scams, poverty, and road safety, among others.”

Nil and Rakesh, on the other hand, have more personal issues to raise, and Yogesh is a comical rap artist. There are punches in his composition that take the rap a notch higher, shares MC Prat.

Taking inspiration from artists like Naz and Eminem and in the case of Prathamesh, the struggles of his single mother; the bantai bundle them all into lyrical, catchy raps.

You may also like: Inka Time Aayega: Liked Gully Boy? Then Check Out Northeast’s thriving Hip Hop Scene!

If you have seen Gully Boy that took you through the gallis of Dharavi and introduced you to the world of these underdog street-style rappers, you may have already seen Prathamesh and Manas. They featured in two tracks from the movie – Aapna Time Ayega and Meri Gully Mein.

You might believe that the cameos were their call to fame, but truth be told, it is their compositions and videos that have already catapulted them into the limelight.

Give them a try if you are a rap-admirer, you won’t be disappointed.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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The clock struck 5, and the doorbell rang. She peeked from the kitchen and called out to wait. Securing the lid, she placed the pressure cooker on the gas stove and ran to open the door.

Instantly, a group of young women hurried in. With a sparkle in their eyes, they set up their instruments amid laughter and giggles galore. Someone rushed to the kitchen to fetch a chimta (tongs). She then wrapped a pair of ghungroo around it, fashioning it as a desi tambourine.

After a few minutes of tuning, the music began.

This is how the mornings for an all-female mission rock band, Meri Zindagi, begin. The venue is the home of lead singer-songwriter, Jaya Tiwari, in Lucknow.

Apart from their unique approach to music, what sets them apart is the subject of the songs, as all of them revolve around social issues, especially those about women. They feel that their music has a mission to make India better.

“We are a bunch of simple, middle-class women who juggle their ordinary lives with the extraordinary. We wake up early and finish our jamming session by 7.30 am, and move on with our jobs, housework or college. We sing, play and do household chores all at the same time, and we love our lives!” shares Jayam in conversation with The Better India.

‘Dreaming ke pressure cooker ki seeti ko bajney do… Kajal chudi bindi jhumke payal se sajney doo.. Mere hausalon ke shankh naad bajney do bajney do bajney do…’

A few lines from their new song illustrates the daily lives of these and many more women. Jaya says that all her songs draw inspiration from their common lives—the whistle of the pressure cooker is a wake-up call to dreams, to get ready and face the world head-on.

“For women, be it in any field, success is never easy. We have big dreams and bigger hurdles to overcome. So every day is like a battle. This song represents that journey, where much like the battle clarion call, the whistle wakes you up to be ready for your daily battles so that one day you are victorious!” adds Jaya.

This is among many other topics addressed by the UP band, which is already gaining quite a fan-following across the country.

From girl-child education, female infanticide, women farmers, child marriages, domestic violence and eve-teasing to more generic social issues like anti-smoking have found musical interpretation in the band’s work.

“In Uttar Pradesh, one out of five girls is subjected to child marriage. Their dreams and ambitions decay and die after this. We wanted to portray issues like that in our songs. These issues need to come out of intellectual circles or big conference halls into the open, amid the common people. And, we are happy that we can do so, and that our audience values our lyrics and music. In many of our performances, they even begin to sing with us, making it a more interactive experience of awareness and entertainment,” says Jaya. She has a PhD in music and has been a radio jockey for more than five years.

Meri Zindagi began in 2010 and has undergone several changes with many of its core members taking a backseat.

“After a number of downfalls, I managed to resurrect the band in 2013, with three more girls. But, two of them had to step back due to personal reasons. Over the years, this has happened several times as many women can’t continue the band because of pressures from family or in-laws. But, we like to think of this band as the safe space, a ‘maeka’, which no one leaves. It’s just that our family keeps growing,” the 38-year-old composer shares.

Apart from Jaya, the band has four more members now.

Niharika Dubey (28) plays the synthesiser; the guitarist Poorvi Malviya (22); Anamika Jhunjhunwala (17) on the drums; and vocalist-cum-percussionist Saubhagya Dixit (20)—all grooving to catchy tunes in their pink kurtas and sarees, their symbolic attire.

Youngest among them, Anamika is still in school and has been playing the drums since she was eight. When Jaya learned about her exceptional talent, she requested her to join; she is now an integral part of the band and jams via Skype every single morning.

Constant support to the band, Niharika, a radio-jockey, was Jaya’s student and among the first few people to join. After her, many others have followed, some could sustain, while others had to move on.

As Jaya puts it, the doors and windows to the band are always open!

So far, the band has composed over 70 songs, which include jingles for All India Radio, UP Mahila Police, CRS – Gurgaon Ki Awaz and Women Power Line 1090. They have also done more than 100 shows, both in rural and urban areas. They have also initiated a few successful campaigns like ‘no sutta’ (anti-smoking), #humkaalehain (prejudice on colour) and #maaki (against derogatory female-centric slangs).

Jaya proudly adds that despite being primarily driven towards female-centric issues, their fan base has a substantial male population as well.

Also Read: Meet ‘Guitar Rao’, an Engineer Who Quit a Cushy Job to Give Music Lessons for Re 1!

“The issues we raise affect not just women, but men as well. And that is why our band has so many male supporters. At the end of the day, gender equality is not about shifting oppression from one group to the other. It is about eliminating it,” she concludes.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

Check out one of their songs here:

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At the crack of dawn, Vikram Sampath made his way through the crowd behind the Red Fort. He walked past the colourful roadside stalls selling everything from clothes, shoes, to the best of wrist watches, and stopped right in front of a small shop parked at the corner of the chaotic street.

The kabaadi (scrap) shop hardly had room for one person to sit. Looking at the owner seated on piles of newspapers, cassettes and old gramophone plates, Vikram, an admirer of classical music, felt sad.

As he rummaged through the clutter, he stumbled upon a gramophone record of Mahatma Gandhi. Titled Spiritual Message of Gandhi, the recording was done in London during a round table conference in 1931.

Reminiscing about the day he found the priceless recording in 2013, Vikram tells The Better India,

My heart nearly broke when I saw that plate amidst the clutter. Seeing our cultural inheritance treated badly, I wondered how much of our history and heritage must be covered in dust only because there is a dearth of preservation resources.

Coming across that shellac record lying unattended wasn’t a first for Vikram. In fact, it is in Chor Bazaars and second-hand and scrap dealing shops across the country that he found most of the precious vinyl and shellacs.

Today, more than 15,000 gramophone records are a part of the Archive of Indian Music (AIM), an organisation started by Vikram to digitise and preserve some of the rare recordings from the pre-radio era.

His collection include artists from music, cinema, theatre, Carnatic classical, and folk, even political rallies during the freedom struggle. From Janki Bai of Allahabad, Gauhar Jaan, Bangalore Nagarathnamma, Mehboob Jaan of Solapur, M S Subbulakshmi, Bhimsen Joshi, and Zohra Bai, several vocalists and musicians can be found at the AIM.

Vikram credits his love for music and initiative to preserve the divine voices recorded in a gramophone to his childhood, parents and maternal grandmother.

Music entered my life when I was merely four-years-old. I had a keen ear for anything musical like songs and jingles. My grandmother recognised it and put me into Carnatic vocal music classes when I turned five.

Besides music, Vikram grew up on history books. His interest for history would often take him to the Mysore Palace where he would learn about the Wodeyar dynasty, “I was spurred by interest to know the stories of Mysore’s royal family.”  

He studied about one of the longest ruling dynasties for nearly ten years along with juggling his academics in Bengaluru. He joined BITS Pilani and SP Jain (Mumbai) and then went to work at many leading multinational firms before dedicating himself to this project.

However, his near and dear ones encouraged him to utilise the knowledge and write a book on the dynasty. In 2007, his first book, Splendours of Royal Mysore: The Untold Story of the Wodeyars was published.

It was during the research for the book that Vikram learnt about Gauhar Jaan. She was the first Indian voice to be recorded on a gramophone in 1902. Tawaaif Gauhar Jaan had lent her voice to over 600 records and travelled across the world. 

For his second book on Gauhar Jahan, Vikram went to Berlin on a visiting Fellowship at the Institute for Advanced Study.

“Since she was a tawaaif, there was hardly any material about her in India. In Berlin I chanced upon her recording.. Her recording made me curious about the gramophone plates. I visited multiple Sound Archives in Europe,” says the 39-year-old.

He adds, “Two things stood out for me during my research—all the European countries I visited, had National Sound Archives and secondly, the number of valuable recordings of Indian artists. As a student of music, I would be embarrassed every time someone would ask about India’s music archives since we did not have any.”

During his six-month fellowship, Vikram learnt the technique of digitising the records and upon his return to India in 2010, he formed an elaborate plan to establish a music archive.

He met several government officials for his proposal but all in vain. Finally it was T V Mohandas Pai (then with Infosys, and now, chairman, Manipal Global Education) who agreed to give Vikram seed funding to set up the archive. His parents came on board as trustees.

With time, stalwarts in the Hindustani and Carnatic classical field like Bombay Jayasri, Shyam Benegal, Sonal Mansingh, Shyamala Bhave, Alarmel Valli, Chinmaya Gharekhan and Nandini Ramani gave their valuable inputs and helped Vikram expand.

He procured the necessary machines and started digitising the songs from the original analogue form of a 78 RPM or a Vinyl disc (EP or LP). The archives are kept in Manipal and the International Institute of Information Technology, Bengaluru.

So far, Vikram has digitised 6,000 plus tracks that are uploaded on SoundCloud so that people can access them from anywhere for free.

Since 2011, he has also curated several exhibitions across India where people listen to the songs.

The response from people has been overwhelming, says Vikram, “There are five lakh followers on SoundCloud, which shows that people are interested in knowing about our music history.  We had not expected this when we started.”

Also Read: ‘Palace of Fairies’ to ‘Lost Hill of Faces’: 12 Hidden Heritage Gems in India You Need to See!

As for the future, Vikram hopes to expand his initiative and involve researchers and academicians who can study the material collected by him over the years, making it interesting and accessible, especially to young people.

If you wish to contribute to Vikram’s collection or donate, you can write to him at vikram.sampath@gmail.com.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

Images courtesy: Vikram Sampath

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SaPa, the Subramaniam Academy of Performing Arts, is the brainchild of Bindu and Ambi Subramaniam. The sibling duo has been using the power of music to empower young lives, generate optimism and level the playing field.

The duo has a great legacy—they come from the family of the legendary violinist-composer Dr L Subramaniam and the famed singer Kavita Krishnamurti Subramaniam. Their own talents are excellent additions.

They could have very well focused on their stellar musical career. Instead, they made an informed choice to give back and share the joy of music with the community.

SaPa aims to make musical education of the highest quality accessible and expose aspiring artists to music from all over the country and the world. Children from all backgrounds and as young as three can fall in love with music, and develop deep connections with their teachers and friends.

Bindu and Ambi actively took over running the organisation in 2011. They continue to expand its mission and bring music to more underserved communities.

Currently, the ‘SaPa in Schools’ programme works with 25,000 kids in 50 schools across five states—Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala, and Maharashtra. They recently spoke to Shrunothra Ambati and Venky Raghavendra about their passion and dream to scale this further.

Q. You have been focused on reaching out to students from underserved communities/government schools. Can you share a specific example that has touched you and made you feel that your programme is making a difference?

Bindu: I first went to Geddalahalli Government School in Karnataka in 2017 for a workshop. The children were shy and hesitant but captivated by the music, they were enjoying themselves. Ambi and I decided immediately that we wanted to work with the school long-term, and we were very lucky that the principal was supportive. It has now been a little over two years since we started working with them, and the transformation has been very powerful. It’s wonderful to see how confident they are now, and how music just resonates through the school.

Ambi: The headmaster of the Government Higher Primary School, Whitefield, saw value in our programme. He was glad that children had an opportunity to learn music, and how it was benefiting them in other areas as well. For instance, they were calmer and working more efficiently in groups. The confidence they [the children] built from learning music was translating into other academic and non-academic areas of their lives.

Q. Music is an integral part of your family. You could have continued to build your careers, but you decided to start this programme instead. Why?

Bindu and Ambi: We had the opportunity to grow in our careers as musicians because of our parents’ vision. They were passionate about teaching us diverse musical styles and ensured that we interacted with some of the most reputed musicians from around the world. They made music an integral part of our lives, and we strongly identified with that vision—to nurture the next generation of passionate musicians.

We noticed that there is no set standard for music in the syllabus and that it is seen as an add-on subject. In 2014, we started the ‘SaPa in Schools’ programme to fill the need for a structured music curriculum in schools across the country.

Today, studies point to the need for 21st-century skills like teamwork, empathy, and communication in the workforce; and music is a gateway to building these skills. It also helps children develop language skills and absorb subjects like math and physics. We wanted to provide a comprehensive curriculum to help them appreciate music and develop their sense of cultural literacy.

Our experiences as performers helped us grow as teachers and what we took from teaching made us better performers.

Q. How have your parents influenced you and the way you run the programme?

Bindu and Ambi: Being surrounded by great musicians since we were born, we sort of assumed that it was normal. We assumed that every musician was a great musician, and that was the bar we set. Mediocrity was not an option.

We’re lucky to have been exposed to different genres of music even as children and it helped us appreciate the diversity in the industry. So even if we’re not playing a particular style, we enjoy it. We wanted to ensure other children got this exposure as well.

Q. What are each of your roles, and how do you draw on your individual strengths to work together on the programme?

Bindu: We don’t necessarily divide our work into individual roles; there are some spaces where Ambi takes the lead and others where I do. We divide our work according to our skills and interests, which works well.

Ambi: Over the years, we’ve cultivated a great working relationship because we’re aware of each other’s strengths and are willing to take a step back and let the other person take the lead when necessary. We’re also respectful of what the other brings to the table—musically as well as in terms of managerial qualities—this helps us navigate smoothly. Ultimately, we take all major decisions as a team.

Q. How do you maintain the high quality of SaPa while also expanding your reach?

Bindu and Ambi: As we expand, we make sure that we are involved in the core of what SaPa stands for—quality music education. Our team helps with administrative and operational matters so we can juggle all the initiatives. However, we continue to write the textbooks, plan out the curriculum every year, conduct teacher training sessions and workshops at schools.

We are also in touch with the teachers delivering the programme so we understand how it is received and what we can add each year. This helps us keep our standards consistent while also continuously being in the ‘what next’ mode.

Q. How do you measure the impact of SaPa thus far, and what markers do you consider while determining success?

Bindu and Ambi: We measure our success based on the number of children who love music enough to consider it as a career or perform at various events. We’re particular about non-competitive excellence; we want students to grow into successful artists consistently, over time.

Another marker is the success of our teachers. Are we creating a platform where young musicians and educators can pursue their passion? Are we helping them nurture the lives of thousands of children through this passion?

We also look at the retention rate in our partner schools to determine how far we have come. Till date, we’ve been very happy to see a high rate of school and teacher retention, which means they see value in what we’re offering.

Q. Please elaborate how your programme helps students outside of their musical abilities.

Ambi: There are plenty of studies which show the benefits of practising music in grasping other subjects like math or science. Parents and teachers have also told us that children with special needs can connect to the classroom activities better through music, and that it helps them be calm.

We have been told that there is a rise in overall cultural intelligence since our curriculum teaches music from various regions and encourages students to understand its role in different cultural contexts.

Bindu: I was recently chatting with Lakshmi, who has been teaching at the Parikrma Centre for Learning for over two years and was touched to hear stories of progress. After introducing the students to music, we saw the students grow. One boy, Krishnamurthy, seemed disinterested in the classes, but we realised that he needed a confidence boost. Now that we make sure he has a platform to perform at school events, he is much more participative.

A few students told her that they now sing the inaugural prayer song at festival celebrations. They are appreciative of these classes, especially because it is an opportunity for them to learn singing in different languages and try their hands at composing and songwriting. It gives them confidence.

Q. SaPa has already is already impacting some communities and students. Where do you see it going in the next five years?

Bindu and Ambi: We’re delighted to see that SaPa has been well-received by kids; our dream is to bring in the next generation of musicians and see our current students take centre stage as they grow.

We would like to empower more people who are passionate about teaching music and provide them with a stable platform, making sure that we reach aspiring teachers from economically disadvantaged communities as well.

Our long-term vision is to expand our ‘SaPa in Schools’ programmes to institutions across the country and open more centres. However, one of the markers of our growth in the next five years will be the building of a community of educators.

Our idea is simple—if you don’t have powerful teachers who can encourage children, everything loses meaning.

Q. What are some of your current challenges? As your organisation grows, what are some obstacles you anticipate?

Bindu and Ambi: We know that it’s not easy for aspiring music teachers to tell their families that they would rather be in this industry. Unfortunately, parents see a more “stable” long-term career in engineering or law, so we offer them counselling. We see that they eventually come around once they have a chance to understand how SaPa works, but it remains a big challenge.

As we grow, it also becomes important to set up new administrative standards and processes.

Q. How are you mobilising the resources to run the programmes?

Bindu and Ambi: As far as financial resources are concerned, it’s definitely a challenge to get the charitable funding we need to grow and run the programme. It’s something we’re working on continuously. We usually hire our teachers and administrators via word of mouth, and have found great talent that we have retained for years.

Q. What differences, if any, have you noticed between students learning music in privileged communities in comparison to underserved students in your programme?

Ambi: As far as musical abilities are concerned, there is plenty of talent and raw potential in children from both communities. However, we see that children from underserved backgrounds retain a sense of wonder longer. They tend to be more appreciative of any and all opportunities, as compared to children from privileged communities.

That said, at the end of the day, a child is a child. Depending on their environment, there may be differences in how they are taught to think and learn, but once you get past that, they all react to music in the same way.

Shrunothra Ambati is a senior at Wellesley College, majoring in Economics. She is the Co-Founder and Chair of the Board of her non-profit organisation, MetroHacks. It empowers high schools students with practical computer science education and fosters an entrepreneurial spirit.

Venkatesh “Venky” Raghavendra is a social entrepreneur with over three decades of experience in philanthropy and development. He has built global partnerships and mobilised significant resources for a number of international and national organisations. Venky was formerly the Chief Philanthropy Officer at the New York-based American India Foundation and is now Vice President of Advancement at Safe Water Network.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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The 12-year-old girl standing in the middle of the green field was oblivious to the beauty around her. Her stance upright, her face focussed on the task at hand, her shoulders too slender to bear the weight of the dhol she was playing.

But bear it, she did.

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You could see it in the tilt of her chin that she would master this instrument someday. She kept beating the drum till its sound filled the field and beyond; her ustad was still not happy.

“Not loud enough! The sound should be deafening. How can you make someone want to dance when you don’t show the same energy while playing the dhol?” he admonished her.

The girl took her teacher’s words to heart for two years later, at the age of 14 she garnered recognition within India and across borders as the ‘youngest female dholi’ or ‘the Dhol girl of India’.

This is Jahan Geet Singh.

Born to Harcharan Singh, a judicial officer and Parminder Kaur in Chandigarh, Jahan has always chosen unconventional paths. No wonder that her parents changed her surname to Singh from Kaur!

“Within the Sikh community, it is common for young men to adopt ‘Singh’ which stands for lion, and women to adopt Kaur which means a princess. When I was growing up, my parents told me I was no less than a son, so instead of calling me Jahan Geet Kaur, they called me Jahan Geet Singh.”

Thanks to her parents and their progressive upbringing, Jahan was always encouraged to test her strengths, chase her dreams, and not shy away from anything traditionally considered a part of the male bastion.

This was perhaps one of the reasons when a 12-year-old Jahan walked up to her parents asking them if she could learn to play the dhol, they were neither surprised nor opposed to the idea. Instead, they told her, ‘Why not? Do it.’

The eight kg dhol that Jahan picked up at the tender age of 12 has become a part of her identity. Now at 21, the young woman, pursuing Law from the Panjab University, has given hundreds of live performances across India and abroad. She even debuted on TV channels and has won an impressive line-up of awards, including ones at the state-level.

Her videos have garnered millions of views and she has over two lakh followers on social media too!

Today, wherever her parents go, they are known as the Dhol Girl’s parents.

When asked how the inclination to play dhol began, she says, “I grew up rooted deep into Punjabi culture, where no festive celebrations were complete without a dhol. Even at a time when most of my friends preferred western instruments such as a guitar or a Casio over a sitar or a harmonium, I was inclined to the dhol. I still remember how at a family function, I was awed by one of my cousins playing the instrument. And all I could think about was—I want to learn this.”

Until then, Jahan had never thought she was breaking stereotypes. Yes, she had always seen men play the dhol. But she thought, perhaps some women played too, just that she never had the opportunity to come across them. It was only a matter of time until she realised that her request made people’s heads turn and speak in hushed whispers.

I struggled a lot to find a teacher. Every time I approached people for guidance, their initial question to me would be, ‘Kisne sikhni hai?’ (Who wants to learn it?) they would roll their eyes when I said I would be the student. They would say things like, ‘Why would a girl want to play dhol? Girls don’t play dhol? Don’t you have any shame? Do something else.”

Hope came in the form of Sardar Kartar Singh. A father of four daughters himself, when Jahan first asked him to teach her, he paused. He thought to himself, ‘If my daughters asked something of me, I would never refuse.’ So he declared me his eldest daughter and became my mentor.”

Almost two to three hours a day, after school, 12-year-old Jahan would walk on the boundaries of open fields, playing the dhol out loud.

Right from day one, Jahan, unlike other students, began with the big-sized traditional dhol.

“I continue to play the same one, and intend to use it forever,” says the determined girl.

The challenges were many. The instrument was heavy and difficult to carry for the young girl because it required immense upper body strength.

“My teacher would tell me, ‘When you play the dhol for an hour, you do double the upper body exercise that you would in the gym. Because when you have to make someone dance to your beat, you have to put in double the energy.’ So often my hands would get tired, my shoulders would ache. My hands would bleed and have bruises all over them. I started slow, where I would put the dhol on the ground and learn, then put it on a chair, eventually I decided to pick it up and play it as I moved.”

And regardless to say, the efforts have paid off.

Recollecting her first performance at a youth festival, she adds, “When I first walked on to the stage, no one in the audience expected me to actually play the dhol. They thought I would just act or dance for a bit and keep the dhol down. They were amazed and the response was phenomenal.”

Despite the media attention that the youngster has garnered, she continues to stay grounded, keeps promoting the traditional instrument and its heritage and inspire other young girls and women to break glass ceilings.

In her final message, she says, “No activity, hobby or profession is exclusively for men or women. The first step to teach our kids that is to start treating our boys and girls equally. We need to teach our boys to be just as gentle and kind as girls are, and our girls to be just as bold and outgoing as boys. If I stopped believing in myself, the dhol girl wouldn’t exist. And so, as women and young girls, we have to start considering ourselves ‘equals’ and start believing in ourselves. Then, we will be unstoppable.”

Did this story inspire you? Then get in touch with her on her Facebook page.

Watch her in action below:

You May Also Like: 68 Years Young! This Woman Owns 6 Indian Passports, Has Had Adventures in 65 Countries

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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‘The human voice is the most beautiful instrument of all, but it is the most difficult to play.’

This was an observation by Richard Strauss, the iconic German composer, who dedicated his life towards nurturing his three great loves—life, symphony orchestra and a good soprano voice.

As the first began to trail towards its end, he turned to the remaining two and created the masterpiece, Four Last Songs.

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A grand marriage of music and poetry, Four Last Songs was written as his farewell to the world, chronicling the Frühling (Spring), September, Beim Schlafengehen (When Falling Asleep) and Im Abendrot (At Sunset).

As time wrinkled away, the 84-year-old wrote to his favourite Wagnerian soprano, Kirsten Flagstad, requesting her to grace the song with her voice.

“…I also add that I have the pleasure to provide for you my Four Last Songs with orchestra, which are currently in print in London; to give their premiere performance in an orchestral concert with a first-class conductor and orchestra…,” he wrote. Unfortunately, he died soon after, with his wish still unfulfilled.

Despite his tragic end, Four Last Songs survived and was premiered exactly as Strauss had imagined. What’s surprising is that his dying wish was fulfilled by a stranger, living literally, a world away from him.

The stranger was Jayachamarajendra Wadiyar, the last ruler of Mysore.

Different Worlds Meet The Same Passion

Despite their differences, both Wadiyar and Strauss shared a similar backdrop of violence, destruction and war. And yet, both were able to emerge out of it to find solace— the former in India’s independence, and the latter in a neutral Switzerland.

However, beyond their historical and political backgrounds, it was their passion for music, that weaved their lives together, forever.

The then 31-year-old Jayachamarajendra’s identity was not only constricted to his royal lineage as the last Maharaja of Mysore. He was also an exceptional musician, and more importantly a patron of European classical music.

And, it was this passion for music that pushed him to sponsor the premiere of Four Last Songs on May 22, 1950.

With an offering of approximately $5000, Wadiyar took care of the entire performance as well as the cost of creating a live recording of the work, which eventually was added to his personal collection that adorned over 20,000 such pieces of history.

Thanks to Jayachamarajendra, Strauss’ last wish was effectuated eight months after his death, at the Royal Albert Hall, London, by none other than the soprano Kirsten Flagstad, who was conducted by the renowned Wilhelm Furtwängler along with the Philharmonia Orchestra—a fitting culmination of Strauss’ extraordinary of a life!

Wadiyar And Music

After the death of his father, Kanteerava Narasimharaja Wadiyar and his uncle Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV who was the Maharaja of Mysore, Jayachamarajendra ascended the throne at the age of 21, in 1940.

His passion, however, lay far from statecraft, meddling with musical melodies.

“Had my brother not been heir apparent, I expect he would have gone seriously into studying the piano,” said Vijaya Devi, his sister while speaking to ON Stage, the official monthly magazine of the National Centre for the Performing Arts, Mumbai.

Young Jayachamarajendra’s tryst with Western classical music began with piano lessons from a Sister Ignatius from the Good Shepherd Convent in Mysore.

His proficiency as a pianist only grew better over the years, and he soon became a licentiate of the Guildhall School of Music, London and honorary Fellow of Trinity College of Music, London, in 1945.

Following his footsteps, Vijaya also earned her qualifications from Trinity College, and continued piano studies under prominent musician and professor Edward Steuermann of the Juilliard School of Music in New York.

In 1974, encouraged by her brother, she founded the International Music & Arts Society in Bengaluru, which continues to function under the guidance of her daughter, Urmila Devi.

Forever For Music

The premier of Four Last Songs under the brilliance of Wilhelm Furtwängler and the Philharmonia Orchestra was not a mere coincidence. It was an outcome of Jayachamarajendra’s ever-growing passion and influence in the world of music. The Maharaja was, in fact, the first president of the Philharmonia Concert Society, London in 1948.

But, Richard Strauss was not the only one to be graced with Jayachamarajendra’s passionate support.

A few years before his encounter with Four Last Songs and the royal coronation, he visited the legendary pianist and composer Sergei Rachmaninoff in Switzerland, hoping to be accepted as a student.

It was during this visit that he came across the music of little-known Russian composer Nikolai Medtner, and decided to finance a large series of recordings of Nikolai’s compositions. Although the two never met, Wadiyar was instrumental in founding the Medtner Society in 1949.

Owing to his tremendous contributions, Nikolai eventually extended his gratitude by dedicating his Third Piano Concerto to him, the then Maharaja of Mysore.

According to the writings of critic Fred Smith, in Gramophone (1948), these recordings and albums commissioned by the Maharaja went on to give Medtner the due recognition, “in the autumn of his life.”

Even after more than six decades of his reign, Wadiyars’ union to music remains and has since been an integral part of their royal lineage, reiterating the fact that melodies indeed do not have any boundaries.

Also Read: How Tagore Used Rakhi in 1905 to Resist Partition of Bengal & Strengthen Unity

(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)

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The camera pans the sand dunes in Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, in the night’s whitish-blue light with the silhouette of Hema Malini in diaphanous pink attire in one corner. The soft silken voice of Lata Mangeshkar in her mellifluous tone, singing, “…yeh zameen chup hai..aasama chup hai…” when suddenly, the music goes completely silent.

For four beats, all the instruments and Lata’s voice stop. And then, only with soft tabla beats, her voice returns to croon, “…phir ye dhadhkan si chaasu kya hai…”

You get goosebumps. That is the song from the film Raziya Sultan (1983).

And until today, no one has been able to capture the silence of their emotions as beautifully as this song ‘Aye dil-e-naadan..’.

Recollecting that silence, I was on my way to meet the man who created this magic—composer Mohammed Zahur Hashmi—better known as Khayyam. It was after he had been bestowed with the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award for creative music in 2007.

The segment of creative music was so apt as Khayyam sahib didn’t create music; he created emotions. And with his passing earlier this month, he took away the beauty of a pause and the power of saying a lot with a melancholic quietness.

If you are not aware of his songs, a simple YouTube search will leave you flabbergasted that most of the songs that you have been humming were composed by him.

Every college boy who is a fan of Hindi film songs and in love, must have experienced the emotions in Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai… (Kabhi Kabhie, 1976), Na jaane kya hua, jo tune choo liya (Dard, 1981), Thehriye hosh mein aa loon toh chale jaayiyega (Mohabbat Isko Kahete Hain, 1965) and many more.

Or if you are down in the dumps, you might relate with, Woh subah kabhi to aayegi…(Phir Subah Hogi, 1958) or Baharon, mera jeevan bhi savaaro… (Aakhri Khat, 1966).

Smiling his usual gentle smile as we settled down for a chat, he observed, “So you have been listening to these songs?”

Reminiscing over those days, sitting cross-legged in his comfort chair at his residence in Juhu, the legendary composer had said, “Making music then was magic. A team of more than 50 instrumentalists practiced for days, and if there were retakes, the entire song was recorded. Never did we do a cut paste or dubbing job.”

Commenting on the current scenario, the legend said, “Unfortunately, today, the system has changed so much. In a duet song, each singer sings separately, and many times, they don’t even know the other singer! People don’t have the time, nor do they have the patience to imbibe the teharaon (steadiness) of a raag (scale or pattern of notes).”

Remembering their years spent discussing music, films, and poetry, another legendary music composer, Anandji, of the famous Kalyanji-Anandji duo, told me, “Khayyam ji started as a music composer way back in 1948. And to have lasted in this industry for so long (he had last composed music for the film Bazaar-E-Husn in 2014) showed his talent, his patience, and his love for his craft.”

Singer and music composer, Suresh Wadkar, remembers Khayyam ji, telling me, “He was a perfectionist! He made us do retakes of the entire song many times and that too with his big eyes smiling, beguilingly and encouragingly saying, ‘It was a good take. But let’s just do one more take for safety,’ until he was satisfied. In fact, when we heard the finished product, we too felt happy with our work.”

Suresh Wadkar sang few songs for the legendary composer like Jab se dekha hai tumhe aise lagta hai mera from the film Dil… Aakhir Dil Hai (1982).

According to Wadkar, no other composer has composed as many songs in Raag Pahaadi as Khayyam ji. “I would say 80 per cent of his songs were based on that raag. But none of them sounded similar. Keeping the raag intact, he gave a different twist and feel to every song.”

Some of his songs based on this scale are—Parbaton ke pedon par and Tum aapna ranjo gham (Shagoon), Aaja re aaja re mera dilbar aaja (Noorie, 1979), Chhookar raat sulaye (Raziya Sultan), among others.

Anandji recalled that Khayyam was particular about his films. “The story had to suit his music. If a director came to him with the story and he realised that the story would suit us, he would call us and say, ‘Aaja yaar. Tumhari picture hai yeh. (Please come. This film is right for you.)’ My brother Kalyanji would gently chide him and ask if he had a disagreement with the director, and he would laugh in his gentle way. Khayyam was never greedy, nor would he accept a project just because it was offered to him.”

He continues to tell me that the legend never got angry or upset, that he had immense patience to make them sing the sur he wanted. “He was particular about the pronunciations of the words in the lyrics, and would gently smile with those furrows between his eyebrows and urge us to do what he wanted.”

He was awarded the National Award for his music direction for the film Umrao Jaan (1981). In fact, Asha Bhosle too was awarded the National Award for the song Dil cheez kya hai from the same film.

In a telephonic interview after the death of ghazal maestro Mehdi Hassan, Khayyam ji told me about the importance of correct pronunciation of words. He had said, “Mehdi Hassan knew every word he sang. He knew which word to emphasise and how much to do it. Aur unki gayeki mein laya-kari bhi bohot acchi thi (He would play with rhythm beautifully while singing.) It made his ghazals come alive. And he also knew who understood his music. Every concert, my wife and I attended, he would always dedicate at least one song to her.”

Also Read: Sahir Ludhianvi, The Poet of Peace Whose Lyrics Made a Home in People’s Hearts

Recognising his greatness, the Government of Maharashtra accorded him full State Honours at his funeral. Poet lyricist Javed Akhtar aptly summarised the legend of Khayyam in the following words, “In the film industry, after the death of a certain person, we normally say, ‘an era ended today’. But with Khayyam passing away, very truly, an era ended today. He belonged to the era where sur, taal, alfaaz played great importance in music. With him ended this era!”

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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In the summer of 1955, three men⁠—Deben Bhattacharya, Colin Glennie and Henri Anneville⁠—embarked on an iconic journey that would change their lives forever.

While Henri was a Frenchman, Colin was English and a student of architecture, and Deben, a Bengali, had been raised by on sacred ghats of Benares.

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Fate and purpose had brought them together, and one afternoon, they huddled inside a battered milk van, and planned their trip from Paris to Calcutta, while casually sipping on crimson-tinted Chianti wine with bits of cheese and olives.

After weeks of planning, they finally hit the road.

The next six months were full of surprises and adventures, as they crossed through Yugoslavia, Greece, Italy, Turkey, Syria, Iraq, Jordan, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and eventually, India.

Deben had captured the soundscapes of every village, town or city, one border after another and his audio-visual exploits finally found expression in ‘Paris to Calcutta: Men and Music on the Desert Road,’ a poetic travelogue which is an impressionistic account of the six-month-long trip.

From the lonely songs of love by strangers in Afghanistan to the desert where they stayed with the Bedouins to record the esoteric chanting, and even an illegal dervish performance, their bulky tape recorders and cameras shadowed them throughout the journey.

Although at times, they did meet prominent individuals, ambassadors and dignitaries, the trio found more comfort in the embrace of complete strangers, who opened their homes and their lives without a second thought.

This memorable experience that would continue to inspire music enthusiasts of several generations was spearheaded by Bhattacharya, a filmmaker, Bengali poet and an amateur ethnomusicologist.

The Life Before the Sound Safari

Deben was born in a Bengali Brahmin family of Hindu priests, who had lived in Benares (modern Varanasi) for over 130 years. His father practised Ayurvedic medicine, while the family ran a school.

As a child, he was actively involved in various religious rituals as the ‘little priest’ and the temple bells, sacred chants, and drum beats  imprinted his growing-up years with profound influence of auditory diversity.

A few years later, in 1949, Deben left home. As a young man, he grew into a Bengali poet highly inspired by English poet Lewis Thompson. It was this love that prompted him to move to England and dedicate the prime years of his life working as a BBC radio producer.

“He soon immersed himself in music, and that was to become his source of livelihood,” wrote Jharna Bose-Bhattacharya, his wife, in a new book featuring her husband’s notes.

As a BBC radio producer, Deben had access to a vast archive of global music. However, a tinge of detachment continued to bother him because found the music disconnected from its creators, lacking the crucial, human element.

And this restlessness further drove him back to his roots. With the support of a few Indian friends in London, he began to record Indian musicians on a Baird tape recorder. This passion soon began to call him home-ward, as he started to plan for field recordings in India.

However, this expedition met a financial roadblock as he needed £80 for the tape recorder, a transformer worth £20, £25 for 20 blank tapes, and around £60 for a one-way boat ticket to Bombay.

Coming to his rescue, Sunday Wilson, a producer for the overseas service, decided to finance and commission him for a total of 6, 5-minute programmes. It’s success lured poet Stephen Spender, founder of the magazine Encounter, to approach Deben to write an article on Indian poetry. One article soon turned to two more with advance payments.

Further, a London-based company Argo Records Ltd. which specialized in classical music stepped forward with an advance of £25 and paid for the Gaumont-British machine and the tapes against future royalties.

With all this support, Deben soon returned to London with enough materials to create almost five records. One of these was published as ‘Songs from Bombay,’ a production that marked his historic journey across the world!

12,000 miles away from his dream

His trip to Bombay was the beginning, and Deben soon decided to travel through the Middle East, capturing the music and sounds of the people.

But there was one problem in the proposition⁠—he didn’t know how to drive. So, he sought the help of ⁠Colin, an architecture student, to drive 12,000 miles with him.

Both were different, Deben loved music, while Colin loved buildings. But, they bonded on their shared wanderlust, and Colin managed to drive a converted milk van, on the condition of visiting Chandigarh, the Indian city designed by the modernist architect Le Corbusier.

Once Deben agreed, a third member Henri joined too, purely driven by his hunger for an adventure!

During this journey, Deben recorded more than 40 hours of music. Some of these were released on the 1956 LP Music on the Desert Road: A Sound Travelogue. From a music enthusiast and an amateur, he went on to become one of the world’s most renowned ethnomusicologists of all time, changing people’s approach to music forever.

While he continued to record his experiences on the tape recorder and the camera, he also maintained a travel diary which encapsulated the details of every single person he met, the music he listened along with simple stories of love, kindness and joy.

Later, although this manuscript hid under the burden of several other music projects and was forgotten for almost 60 years, his wife Jharna, continued her pursuit to get this piece published, even after his death in 2001.

Paris to Calcutta: Men and Music on the Desert Road published on Sublime Recordings in 2018, is the outcome of that resolve by Jharna and Rober Millis, a music enthusiast inspired by Deben.

Millis, who works for the Seattle-based Sublime Recordings, along with Jharna, has brought Deben’s journey back to life through his diary that gives a detailed insight into the expedition.

From the harmonious beats of the Bedouins grinding their coffee on the harsh desert to the devotional bhajans in India, every turn of the pages has a magical and musical story to tell, which thanks to them, is not forgotten anymore.

Also Read: Lost Tales: How Mysore’s Maharaja Created History in Western Classical Music

(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)

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The moment you step into this tiny shop located at the corner of Rash Behari Avenue, the dust and noise of the main road settles down into a serene silence. The charming quiet of the run-down shop is periodically interrupted by the tuning of a sitar or the strumming of a tanpura.

Despite its dilapidated exteriors, a single peek inside reveals a treasure trove of musical instruments.

You cut through the canopy of sitars hanging from the ceiling, dusty wooden shelves stacked with violins and harmoniums, and cross the walls covered with sarods and guitars, to reach the end table where Ratan Kumar Sen sits meditatively working on a beautiful sitar.

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Behind him, a wall covered with framed photographs over the peeling paint depicts the glorious past of Kolkata’s iconic musical instrument shop, Hemen & Co.

This 72-year-old shop which was frequented by celebrated musicians like Bhimsen Joshi, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Sandhya Mukhopadhyay, Parveen Sultana and even Ravi Shankar, holds testimony to the musical brilliance of the yonder years.

Not just in India, Hemen & Co. was known for its outstanding craftsmanship even outside the country. Legends like Yehudi Menuhin, Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson, and George Harrison, the lead guitarist of The Beatles, have walked through these doors, seeking to experience their handcrafted instruments.

“But the days of glory both for us and music, are in the past,” reflects Ratan, who along with his brother Tapan Kumar Sen, takes care of the shop and repairs instruments only created by them.

“My father, Hemen Chandra Sen, used to say that you can never make a good instrument if you know how to play it with ease. The instrument and the musician are two parts of one whole, and so it needs to be the best possible match,” he adds.

Each instrument in the shop is made to order with the best quality material sourced from various parts of the country.

“All our instruments are handcrafted and can survive a lifetime. Because at the end of the day, this is not a job or even a business for us. It is a proud passion that we have and will continue to carry on for generations.”

From a broken sitar to an iconic company

Hemen Chandra Sen had been playing the sitar since he was 10 years old. But at the age of 13, he had to move to Calcutta from East Bengal (present Bangladesh).

His keen interest in music soon earned him the prized tutelage of Baba Allauddin Khan of Maihar Gharana, as well as the guidance of Ustad Ayet Ali Khan, father of Ustad Bahadur Khan.

The story goes that one day, while in a class with Allauddin Khan, Hemen accidentally broke his Sitar. At the time he could not afford to get it repaired and so instead, he did it on his own.

“When Allauddin Khan saw the repaired sitar as good as new, he was extremely impressed. Others like Ayet Ali Khan, Ali Akbar Khan and even, Ravi Shankar, were taken aback by his skills. Allauddin Khan praised and encouraged him to take it up seriously, as there aren’t many who understand the instruments so well to transform them into their original condition. He even gave all his damaged Maihar instruments to my father for repairing. This was the beginning and many musical geniuses, like Pandit Nikhil Banerjee, Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, Annapurna Devi, Ustad Hafiz Ali Khan and Ustad Amjad Ali Khan, began to come to him for all their repair needs,” Ratan shares.

This eventually led to the genesis of Hemen & Co. in 1947, which over the last few decades has perfected the skill of creating and repairing instruments like tanpura, sitar, tabla, harmonium, flute, sarod, violin, esraj and guitar.

Hemen’s brilliant work also earned him the Hafiz Ali Khan award for lifetime achievements, at the hands of the then Prime Minister, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, in 2003.

After his death in 2010, Tapan and Ratan took over the family business.

“My father was a strict and disciplined man. I think that is crucial is you passionately want to pursue music. Our education was not limited to school. We would have to manage studies at school during the day, while also concentrating on music lessons, especially the sitar, and then get coached by father about the family trade and craftsmanship. He would always say that you cannot justly treat and cure an old or broken instrument if you are not a musician yourself!” recollects Ratan.

A star-studded clientele

In the last 72 years, Hemen & Co. has emerged to be the one-stop store for musical legends and maestros from all across the world.

One of Hemen’s first customers was his teacher, Allauddin Khan, and Ravi Shankar, who was a fellow student. Ratan remembers that the first time his father repaired Ravi Shankar’s sitar, he didn’t charge money. As a token of appreciation, Shankar sent a portable tape recorder.

“Ravi Shankar and my father were fellow musicians and good friends. It was invaluable, much beyond the ambit of money,” adds Ratan who was taught by his father to make Shankar’s unique kharaj pancham sitar.

It was through this connection with Shankar that George Harrison, the Beatles’ star guitarist, became a prized customer. Other members of the band also ordered from here, from time to time.

“George Harrison had bought a sitar from us somewhere in 1968, which was both a surprise and an honour. Then after two years, he ordered two acoustic guitars. I remember that he had asked us about guitars, on an earlier trip, and I replied that although we did our best, they might not be of the superior quality as available in the west. He, however, dismissed the humble confession, tried one of our acoustic guitars, and complimented us on the perfect tune. So, when this order for two guitars came in, we were delighted and sent them via Ravi Shankar’s secretary. To say thanks, Harrison sent us a huge German-made tape recorder!” says Ratan.

The next memorable encounter that Ratan remembers is with Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson.

“I was a huge fan. Ian Anderson was like Lord Krishna, the only one who could play the flute for hours standing on one leg. I would be captivated throughout his shows, and so when he came to Kolkata to perform in 2008, I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to meet him. When I did finally saw him, I gifted him a bamboo flute, something he had never played before, as he used a metal one. He loved the one made of bamboo, and has ordered over 100 flutes from us,” he shares.

Superior quality ensuring generations of clients

Despite the onslaught of air-conditioned shops selling musical instruments in the area or even the internet, Hemen & Co., in its tiny enclosure, continues to be overburdened with orders all round the year. Ratan says that this is the influence of quality.

“My father did not build a mere company, he built a global family of musicians, and we are carrying it forward. Our instruments aren’t instant; they need time and patience to ensure quality. This is something that true musicians appreciate, and it is with their testimonials that the next generation continues to buy from us,” he shares.

One such third-generation customer is Sougata Ganguly, whose entire family has purchased instruments from Hemen & Co. Now, he also sends his students to the shop. Ravi Shankar’s daughter, Anoushka, is also a loyal customer.

Ratan mentions the quality of the instruments, especially sitar and sarod, is ensured with the talented craftsmanship and the best raw material.

Elaborating on the process, he says, “The sitar is primarily constructed out a specific kind of gourd which cannot be eaten due to its bitterness. This variety is specially cultivated for sitar and tanpura. It’s now grown in parts of Maharashtra and the Nadia district of West Bengal. Once fully grown, they are processed to arrive at this formation. At the initial stage, it looks like any typical gourd, green in colour, but then it is soaked in water allowing the inner contents to decompose. After that, these decayed contents are scooped out, keeping the shell intact. These shells are then sent to us. We only buy the thickest shells as they are heavy and sturdy. But, again, thick shells are rare and so, more expensive.”

After the shells, the wood used in making the sitar, tanpura and sarod is also a critical aspect. These are either sourced from Assam or demolished old houses.

“The older, the better. We usually go for tul or Burma teak, as per the preference of the musicians. For instance, Burma teak has a good temper and produces a powerful sound, while tul wood, is softer. Vilayat Khan used to prefer the Burma teak sitar, which was completely black as he concentrated more on taan. Ravi Shankar preferred a sitar made of tul and adorned with minute decorations, ideal for alaap.” he adds.

Ratan and Tapan have held fort for all these years and have also been preparing their sons with the hope that they will carry forward the legacy.

But, in a world of instant gratification and autotune, this work has become more difficult than ever before.

When asked about the future of Hemen & Co. Ratan remarked, “I’ve done my part in creating a treasure and will guard it till my last breath. Now, it is the job of your generation to keep it alive!”

Also Read: Paris to Calcutta In a Milk Van: A 19,000 km Road Trip That Captured the Sound of Music!

(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)

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For Begum Akhtar, also known as the Mallika-e-Ghazal (The Queen Ghazals), it was a series of personal tragedies that formed the basis of her legendary vocal performances. Her magic lay in not merely expressing this pain, love and hope, but translating these emotions in ways that future generations would empathise with and understand.

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Rita Ganguly, a student of the great Begum, once said that her soulful voice emerged from the depths and years of “loneliness, pain, suppression and silence”. Her unforgettable voice took to the masses, the various forms of semi-classical and classical Hindustani music like the ghazal, thumri and dadra that were once restricted to private mehfils (audiences).

It was her voice which brought life and a certain soul to the remarkable poetry of literary giants like Mirza Ghalib, Kaifi Azmi, Shakil Badayuni, Mir Taqi Mir and Jigar Moradabadi.

For the only artist allowed to smoke in the premises of the All India Radio’s recording studios, it was music which had literally kept her alive amidst a series of personal tragedies until it finally consumed her. Posthumously awarded the Padma Bhushan, Begum Akhtar espoused a unique spirit in her voice which inspired legends like Pandit Jasraj to become a singer as a six-year-old and Agha Shahid Ali, the Kashmi-American poet, to pick up the pen.

Born on 7 October 1914, in Faizabad, Akhtar probably endured more heartaches than most of us do in a lifetime. Her lawyer father, Asghar Hussain, abandoned his wife, Mushtari, a small-time tawaif (courtesan, a profession Akhtar would don till her eventual marriage) and his two children – Akhtar and Zohra (twin sisters) when they were only four years old. After consuming poisoned sweets, both sisters were rushed to the hospital, but Zohra tragically didn’t make it.

In the midst of the devastating loss of a twin sister, it was music that offered Akhar refuge. While her mother insisted that she learn conventional Hindustani Classical Music, it was in other forms like the ghazal or thumri where she could truly express herself. Unfortunately, like many female singers of the time, she also endured a lot of physical abuse at the hands of her masters.

“Worse, Bibbi, or Akhtari Bai Faizabadi as she was by then known, was raped by a raja of one of the states of Bihar who was a patron of classical music. She gave birth to a girl, Shamima. Mushtari, determined that her daughter would not face the world as an unwed mother, pretended the baby was her own and Shamima became Akhtar’s sister. The singer stood by this story until her death,” says this 2008 profile in Mint.

All these events happened by the time she reached 13 years of age. However, her musical gift grew from strength to strength. She performed for the first time in front of an audience at a concert for the victims of 1934 Nepal-Bihar Earthquake, where Sarojini Naidu heaped praise on her singing talents. Akhtar even had a short stint in the film industry till the early 1940s, but left because her mother would have none of it.

“But Akhtari Bai managed to escape the matriarchal hold by arranging a marriage for herself into high society. She did this knowing that the price of respectability was a life in purdah, giving up the arts and individual freedom,” writes Mehru Jaffer for Women’s Feature Service.

For eight years, she gave up music. However, following multiple miscarriages and the death of her mother, she was devastated both mentally and physically. Doctors felt that it was only music that would give her an outlet for this grief, and soon she returned to music.

This gave her a second lease of life, and it was during this phase that she got into singing serious poetry. She even shifted her audiences from largely private mehfils to the public venues and eventually the All India Radio, which broadcasted her voice through vast swathes of this country.

Having mesmerised audiences through the length and breadth of India with her unforgettable performances, she eventually passed away on 30 October 1974, suffering a heart attack during a performance in Ahmedabad at the age of just 60.

It is noted critic Raghava Menon who best captures the essence of her greatness.

“Akhtar was constantly caught up in a male-dominated world. She could never escape, even in the middle class, for there were inescapable social stigmas. But, it seems to me, she had an understanding of the predicament of the human being, and she used her life as a source of understanding of the masses who have looked for things, searched for things, gone on a journey to discover things and, in some cases, come back empty handed, finally realising that the important thing is the journey. She seemed like that to me. She was a remarkable, highly evolved woman,” he once said.

Also Read: Paris to Calcutta In a Milk Van: A 19,000 km Road Trip That Captured the Sound of Music!

(Listen to some of her greatest hits here!)

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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For Mumbai-born Amar Muchhala, life was on the bitter side growing up in a society where stammering garners mockery and discrimination. During school days, Amar was the boy who took ‘forever’ to complete one sentence. The more fun people made, the lesser Amar talked.

Creating a shell around himself. Amar became withdrawn and fiercely guarded his personal space.

Today, almost two decades later, the shy and introverted boy is an internationally-renowned opera singer who has performed in countries like France, Germany and the United Kingdom. He has mastered one of the most challenging tenor arias, ‘Komm, O Holde Dame’ and is said to be the first Indian to perform Chamber Opera (an opera genre).

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When asked if had ever imagined singing live in front of thousands of people, he tells The Better India:

“I grew up learning Hindustani Classical music and harmonium. Since it was the only time when I did not stammer, I enjoyed and felt at peace while singing. I grew up in a Gujarati household where there was no exposure to Western classical music and so it wasn’t until I moved to America for studies, did I know what tenor meant.”

Amar’s love for music was limited as a hobby, “Not for once had I thought of music as a career option. It all started with an accidental encounter with a peer at Franklin and Marshall College.”

While pursuing his graduation in Business Management and French Literature, Amar decided to try his hand at choir music. To his surprise, the choirmaster immediately made him a tenor (a singing voice between baritone and alto or countertenor, the highest of the ordinary adult male range). College days saw him participating in several choir performances which helped him gain confidence in singing for a live audience.

After completing his studies, Amar returned to India and joined the family business as the plan was. Though he missed singing, the busy schedules did not allow him to pursue his passion. But, fate had other plans for Amar. Even before Amar identified his calling, his professor back in the United States knew the boy had a special voice.

On his teacher’s encouragment and of course his closeted love for western classical music, Amar took the plunge, “There were very limited options for learning opera in India. So I decided to go abroad. From there, learning opera was a very organic process.”

Hitting the Right Notes

Revealing his plans to quit his stable profession for opera singing did not go down well with his parents at first.

“Pursuing art as a career is rarely encouraged in many Indian households as it lacks financial security. All their concerns were justified but when I sat them down and expressed my passion for opera singing, they were quite supportive.”

Amar got into the Guildhall School of Music and Drama and moved to London in 2004 for a 5-year course.

The training, which included voice, linguistic and breathing lessons and amplifying voice without a microphone was very helpful in reducing Amar’s stammer.

After his first public performance in 2009, there was a dull period for nearly three years. Amar even contemplated quitting after innumerable auditions and rejections.

“There were two points in my life when I thought of quitting. But something in me did not allow me to give up. So I took a break and moved to Mumbai but somehow I kept going back to music. The fear of getting stuck in our family business pushed me to try again,” says Amar.

Life took a dramatic turn in 2013 after Amar was offered a lead cover role in Benjamin Britten’s opera Gloriana at the prestigious Royal Opera House with The Opera Group.

“Honestly, it was totally unexpected. Opera singers take years before they reach the Royal Opera House. I was surprised when they selected me, an outsider who had very little experience. After that performance, people started noticing the brown boy who had a peculiar and warm voice. It got me back my confidence,” shares Amar.

Since his debut performance, Amar has come a long way but even now auditions are hard in the ‘ruthless’ industry. The only difference now is that he is in a position to choose his roles.

“I have made decisions that did not work in my favour. People judge you mercilessly in my industry during auditions. Overtime, I developed the nature of the beast and only auditioned for principal roles. The best advice I give to myself is to put my best foot forward and present myself in the best light possible,” he adds.

Failures and rejections no longer discourage Amar. In fact, he tries to see them as lessons with which he can excel in the future. Amar does not believe in plan Bs. According to him, an individual can never give his 100 per cent if he or she knows that there is something to fall back on.

Among the many praises he has received, the most memorable ones are always from people who are in awe of the fact that Amar is a Gujarati from Mumbai.

“Three days ago I was in Brussels when this gentleman came up to me and said they had never heard anyone like me, it was elegant and warm. Such praises always motivate me to perform better.”

Even after letting his talent do the work for him, there are times when Amar is afraid to speak, thanks to the judgments passed by the society.

“Back in those days issues like speech impairment and dyslexia were brushed under the carpet leaving no medium for discussions. The kind of television and movie content we have in India is also majorly responsible for the lack of sensitivity and awareness. It is important for people to know that making fun of someone’s speech is not okay.”

With every opera performance Amar is breaking his own limitations, proving that no force in the world can pull you down if you tap into your potential.

Also Read: 27-YO Mumbaikar Woman Helps Beggars Turn Professional Singers, Earn Rs 35000/Show!

Picture Courtesy

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Eight national awards, over 80,000 songs recorded in languages ranging from Malayalam, Tamil, and Hindi to Latin and Arabic, and three Padma awards—KJ Yesudas is an inspiration to millions of singers and composers and is undoubtedly one of, if not the greatest, Indian singers of all time.

There is a reason why he is often referred to as the ‘Ganagandharvan’ (Celestial Singer) because that perfection in his singing could have only come down from the heavens.

“I have always said that no singer can match what a composer has in mind. If there is one singer who, very often, came close to the original creation and, at times, even enhanced it, it is Yesu. No other singer can sing with such bhava, such laya. And his pronunciation is perfect. In the case of other singers, there is only one style in which they can be slotted. In Yesu’s case, he can be moulded into any form. The essence of his voice will stay as a diamond even if you chip off the sides,” says MK Arjunan, a Malayalam music composer, speaking to The Hindu.

As he turns 80 today, we look back at a remarkable career in music that touched the souls of millions across regional, vernacular and communal divides.

Born in Kochi to a Latin Catholic Christian family, Yesudas grew up in a household that breathed music. His father, Augustine Joseph, was a well known Malayalam classical musician and stage actor, besides being his first teacher.

Yesudas first made his mark in the Malayalam film industry with the movie Bharya in 1962 but soon transitioned into the Tamil just two years later in the film Bommai.

More than a decade after traversing through the film industries in the South, Yesudas got his big break in Bollywood singing for the 1976 movie Chhoti Si Baat, particularly the hit song Jaaneman Jaaneman.

However, it was the film Chitchor released in the same year, when he left a significant impression on Hindi audiences with evergreen songs like ‘Gori Tera Gaon Bada Pyara,’ ‘Jab Deep Jale’ and ‘Aaj Se Phele Aaj Se.’

Having worked with every film composer and singer worth his/her salt in India over nearly six decades, the sheer diversity in his body of work is genuinely mind-boggling.

While many argue that his most exceptional performances on wax are in Malayalam—’Oru Pushpam Mathramen,’ a romantic ballad from the 1967 film ‘Pareksha,’ or ‘Harimuralaeeravam’ from the 1997 film ‘Aaram Thampuran,’—one can even make the same argument for Tamil as well, particularly songs in which he teamed up with the legendary composer Illaiyaraja.

There is a reason why so many composers have opted for his voice.

As a music aficionado, who may not always understand the meaning behind the lyrics, what stands out is his ability to elevate a song beyond the words and music.

There is an undeniable soul in his singing, which resonates across different music genres, languages and moods. His flexibility, particularly when it comes to range, is out of this world and music composers have often said that he can enhance an original composition like no other singer.

He has the natural ability to impart just the right amount of emotion into any song, and the tonality of his voice is unmatched. Whether he is reaching for high or low octaves, what’s undeniable is the clarity in his voice.

This is not just a product of natural talent, but years of training, discipline, and continuously working on his craft.

A master of Carnatic music, Yesudas is also famous for his devotional songs. Despite being a practising Christian, he has sung songs like Harivarasanam, a devotional song from the 1975 film Swami Ayyapan.

Composed by G Devarajan, the song is recited at the Sabarimala shrine every single day before the gates close.

Yesudas has also proven to be a genuine cultural ambassador for India.

“In 1965, he was invited by the Soviet Union government to perform at music concerts in various cities in the USSR and also sang a Russian song over Radio Kazakhstan. In 2001 he sang for album Ahimsa in Sanskrit, Latin and English and a mix of styles including New-Age and Carnatic]. In his music concerts in the Middle East he sings Arabic songs in the Carnatic style,” says journalist-turned-writer Kiran Ravindran.

But the true mark of any great is longevity. Through the decades, music has changed in a myriad of ways in terms of sound, aesthetic and most importantly, technology.

Yesudas, however, continues to stand out because of his willingness to adapt, but not at the cost of authenticity.

There is a reason why AR Rahman said that Yesudas is “one of my most favourite voices’ ever in the world.” There is a reason why Bappi Lahri refers to his voice as the one “touched by God.”

If you ever listened to him sing, you would understand why.

Also Read: Inka Time Aayega: Liked Gully Boy? Then Check Out Northeast’s thriving Hip Hop Scene!

(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)

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Floods in Assam are a yearly occurrence that threaten the lives of humans and wildlife alike. Seeing the devastation of the rains, Bhavana Barman reached out to the online community for help on 15 July via a Twitter post that quickly gained momentum. Her Twitter content is mainly about the South Korean boy band ‘BTS’ also known as the Bangtan Boys whom she admires ardently.

Naturally, a large chunk of her followers are fans of the seven-member K-pop band and they recognise themselves as the ‘BTS ARMY’.

The tweet moved various members of the BTS ARMY into action especially in India wherein they raised close to Rs 5.9 lakhs in just 24 hours for the Assam flood victims!

Bhavana clarifies that she did not start the campaign alone as reported by most media platforms. Instead, it was a collaborative effort of the BTS ARMY community members who helped achieve the feat.

The Better India reports how the relief workers and volunteers of the BTS ARMY went about their operations inspired by the philanthropic work of the K-pop band.

BTS ARMY Moves into Action

Once Bhavana tweeted on the flood situation in Assam, a lot of BTS ARMY members not just from the Northeast but from across the country took notice.

“We had a personal chat group of BTS members on Twitter and Juhi, a fan from Mumbai started talking about the floods in Assam. We soon created another group of 30 members who wanted to help out for the cause. We immediately started researching on legitimate fundraising links and organisations who we could support in addition to amplifying the issue on social media platforms,” says 20-year-old Khachuk, a student of English Honours from Lady Sri Ram college.

The volunteers including Khachuk and Bhavana soon reached out to Kukikalyani Borgohain who identifies herself as ‘Khamseng’ (her pen name for her poetry), who had been working with ‘People for People’, founded in the backdrop of the Baghjan Oil disaster to carry out the relief work.

This voluntary organisation had previously raised about Rs. 13 lakh for relief work in Assam which had inspired trust among the BTS ARMY volunteers.

They urged Khamseng to send out a link for donations where people could contribute.

“On 16 July, the link went live at 1:30 p.m. and we tweeted about it everywhere and it blew up. When the link was initially set up, it was to raise Rs. 30,000 till 28 July. But we ended up raising Rs. 5.9 lakh in a matter of 24 hours!” says Khachuk.

Although the link is now closed, there is a new link that has been set up by the voluntary organisation to raise an additional Rs. 30,000 till 20 July. This is being currently managed by ‘People for People’ that is organising an e-concert to raise this amount. The link to the concert has been shared on Facebook page, ‘The Voice of North East India’.

Artists like Shankuraj Konwar, Nilutpal Bora, Johnny Marak, Bidyutjyoti Mohan, Bottle Rockets India, Jutimala Buragohain, Moniraj Hazarika, Farhad Hussain are set to perform to raise money for flood relief activities.

Additionally, BTS ARMY has also put out a new link to collect donations for Asaam Floods.

BTS: The Message of Love and Charity

“A lot of fans admit that they discover BTS when they need them the most. It was the same for me when I discovered them in 2015. I was not in a very good place at the time and their message of self-love inspired me. Their album ‘Love Yourself’ has really left a deep impression on me and helped me shape the person I am today,” says Khachuk earnestly.

Bhavana on the other hand discovered BTS in late 2017 when she watched a video of their dance performance on stage. Later, she ended up doing a lot of research on them and found the message they spread through their songs impactful.

“They focus on subjects like mental health, self-love, and humility when you translate the lyrics. There is no mention of drugs, nudity, violence and slurs which is so common otherwise. Their message of positivity is what sets them apart and shows that music has no language barriers,” explains the 23-year-old Economics Master’s student.

For Khamseng, reading the meaning of the lyrics moved her and she became a huge fan of the K-pop band. “As a poet myself, I found their lyrics so uplifting and powerful,” she says.

Earlier this month, BTS donated about $1 million to the Black Lives Matter movement. Subsequently, BTS fans across the globe mobilised the #MatchAMillion campaign where the fans also ended up raising an additional $1 million within 24 hours to support the campaign,” she adds.

In addition to the uplifting messages, in September 2018, the boy band was invited at the United Nations 73rd General Assembly to address the launch of the youth initiative ‘Youth 2030: The UN Youth Strategy’ and the UNICEF campaign ‘Generation Unlimited’. With their work, the K-pop continues to inspire scores of their fans not just in South Korea but across the world.

“To carry out charitable activities in India, we launched the ‘BTSARMY Helps India’ page on twitter to carry out charitable activities in the future. Now, our focus is to also help out with flood relief work in Bihar,” informs Bhavana.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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In a video published earlier today, 15 lyricists from the Hindi film industry demanded that they receive proper credit for their work on music streaming platforms and YouTube channels.

Titled ‘Credit De Do Yaar,’ it shows the lyricists taking a stand after being sidelined for eons.

“Currently, no music streaming apps/platforms have any algorithm of prominently displaying lyrics credits or making a song searchable by the lyrics writer’s name. On official YouTube channels of almost every big music company, hundreds of song videos have wrong or missing credits of lyrics writers. Be it legends like Sahir saab, Shailendra saab, Gulzar saab, Javed Akhtar saab, Anand Bakshi saab, Sameer saab or contemporary writers like Puneet Sharma, Abhiruchi Chand and others — this culture of apathy and erasure runs across generations. Respect is all we desire.”

Speaking to the Hindustan Times, Shailender Singh Sodhi, commonly known as Shelles, the lyricist behind films like Shahid, Manmarziyaan and Jawaani Jaaneman, highlights the fundamental concern in not properly crediting lyricists.

“There’s a rule: if the name is missing, the royalties from the song won’t come to you, be it YouTube or music apps. Unlike abroad, we don’t have the rights. These music apps have a different algorithm. If we are given our credits, we will start getting the royalty. But what about the royalties of the past? We don’t do any gigs or concerts like singers, who get paid Rs 40 lakhs sometimes. We just get paid peanuts once, and there are negotiations, and nothing after that. Then we have to resort to doing other things like dialogue and script writing to earn extra moolah,” says Shailender.

Besides their names not appearing on streaming platforms, there are other ways in which lyricists don’t receive their due credit. Some have their work plagiarised, while some songs are wrongly credited.

1) Genda Phool: Rapper Badshah fell into hot water earlier this year for the song Genda Phool for not crediting Ratan Kahar, an 85-year-old Birbhum-based folk artist, who originally wrote the hook “Boro Loker beti lo/lomba lomba chul/ emon chul e lagiye debo laal genda phool (Daughter of a rich man/ long, long hair/ I shall adorn such hair with a red marigold).”

After getting panned on social media, Badshah spoke to Kahar, paid him Rs 5 lakh and has offered to work on a song with him once the pandemic subsides.

2) O Saathi, Baaghi 2: In the song, there is a couplet, “Betaabiyaan Samet Ke Saare Jahaan Ki / Jab Kuchh Naa Ban Sakaa To Mera Dil Banaa Diya”, which was either written by poets Najmi Naginvi or Jigar Moradabadi. Credit for these lyrics on the official T Series YouTube channel, however, is given to a certain Arko with no mention of the poets.

3) Ek Chatur Naar: This iconic song from the 1968 cult-classic Padosan was originally sung not by Manna Dey and Kishore Kumar, but his brother Ashok Kumar in the 1941 film Jhoola. Originally written by Kavi Pradeep, the lyrics for the more popular version of the song, however, was solely credited to lyricist Rajendra Krishan.

4) Dilbar, Satyamev Jayate: On the T Series YouTube channel, the credit for the lyrics of one of last year’s biggest hits was wholly given to Shabbir Ahmed when originally the song was written by Sameer Anjaan.

5) Don’t Be Shy, Bala: On the Sony Music India YouTube page for the song ‘Don’t be Shy’ in the 2019 film Bala, the credit for the music was given to Sachin-Jigar, while Badshah and Mellow D were credited for the lyrics. However, on both counts, they failed to credit the original composer and songwriter Baljit Singh Padam, better known by his stage name Dr. Zeus, who delivered ‘Don’t be Shy’ performed by the girl group Rouge and the Punjabi smash hit ‘Kangna.’

Meanwhile, a YouTuber has compiled a list of 50 songs on the streaming platform, where official channels of music studios haven’t credited the lyricists for their songs. On streaming platforms like Spotify, the list goes into the hundreds. None of these songs would be what they are without the lyrics and therefore lyricists must be credited for their words.

Varun Grover, the lyricist credited with films like Gangs of Wasseypur and Udta Punjab, showed how to credit lyricists the right way. Writing a song based on legendary Hindi poet Dushyant Kumar’s ‘Tu Kisi Rail Si Guzarti Hai’ for the film Masaan, Varun reached out to both the late poet’s descendants and publishers and sought their permission to use just two lines from the poem.

If you visit the official Zee Music Company channel on YouTube, where the song is posted, you will find that Dushyant Kumar has been credited.

It’s not very hard to credit the original writers. Unfortunately, some don’t make the effort, but that needs to change now.

(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)

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This article has been published in partnership with Mountain Dew

What defines India’s resilient spirit? It’s people. And what makes these people so heroic? Some may say it is the zeal to do great things, while others point out the common qualities that many heroes possess — courage, sense of purpose and perseverance.

But, truth be told, there is one constant thing that drives the transformation of a country and its seemingly ordinary people — fear. Be it the fear of losing something or someone, the drive is often fuelled by courage to overcome this fear and become great.

India is filled with many such people — from the freedom fighters to the current day changemakers — who overcame their fears, to build a future for their country. So, this Independence Day, as we celebrate yet another year of exemplary greatness gifted to us by these changemakers, Mountain Dew along with Saregama, has come with a reimagined version of the iconic song ‘Ye Desh Hai Veer Jawano Ka’, originally sung by Mohammed Rafi and Balbir, and written by Sahir Ludhianvi.

Mountain Dew’s version of the powerful anthem, composed by music producer/composer Ram Sampath, features vocals from prominent Bollywood singer Sukhwinder Singh. The new rendition written by lyricist Swanand Kirkire reiterates the recurrent philosophy of victory beyond fear- Darr Ke Aage Jeet Hai and salutes the nation’s spirit of emerging victorious in the face of fear.

Guided by Singh’s electrifying voice singing the lines- Yeh Desh Hai Veer Jawaano Ka, Albelo ka Mastano ka, Yahan Sadiyon Se Ye Reet Hai Ji, Har Darr Ke Aage Jeet Hai Ji- the music video features Independent India’s most defining moments. Be it the 1983 cricket world cup, the launch of Mangalyaan, or the Oscar win by music maestro A.R Rahman, the song pays tribute to India’s ever-growing legendary legacy. It is a testimony of our resilience and a timely reminder that as a nation we have the power to beat all odds, we have done that in the past and can do it again.

Additionally, Mountain Dew is also using this opportunity to appreciate different brands across India, for the work they do toward empowering the country. You can find more on how they are doing it, here.

“People are looking for strength and inspiration at this time and a classic from Saregama like ‘Yeh Desh Hai Veer Jawaano Ka’ along with brilliant composition by Ram Sampath, with a twist is sure to give people the strength to move forward and overcome their fears. I am thrilled to be lending my voice for this energetic track, Darr Ke Aage Jeet Hai’®,” says the singer.

Here, The Better India brings to you 5 such heroes who did not let fear be an obstacle:

Devaki Amma

85-year-old Devaki Amma comes from a family of agriculturalists. Her life had always revolved around plantations and paddy cultivation. But, in 1980 she met with an accident which severely injured her leg, forcing her to discontinue what she loved. However, her attachment to farming could not be contained by fear. She planted one sapling in the backyard of her home. One led to another, and in a few years, she had created a lush green forest spread over five acres of land in Onattukara region in Alappuzha district of Kerala.

Ashif Shaikh

37-year-old Ashif’s organisation, Jan Sahas, has helped rescue over 41,000 manual scavengers and supported 15,000 rape survivors through legal action, employment etc. But, fighting this battle against unjust and discriminatory traditional customs has not been easy. Threats and warnings have become a part of his life, one that he has been successful in overcoming. He says that threats do not stop him, they only encourage him to continue.

Mohammad Shareef

“Grief either breaks you or makes you stronger. For me, it did both in succession. I was shattered until I could break no more, so I picked up the pieces to create something substantial,” says 82-year-old Mohammad Shareef, who has spent 27 years of his life burning and cremating over 4,000 unclaimed bodies in Uttar Pradesh. As a noble act of dignifying the dead, he has performed the last rites for thousands of deceased by cremating more than 3,000 unclaimed bodies of Hindus and burying over 2,500 Muslims.

Viji Penkoottu

Years ago, in Mittai Theruvu, SM Street, a shopping area in Kozhikode, Kerala, women working in the shops and malls were denied a basic human right — the right to sit or visit the toilet. Perturbed, Viji Penkoottu, a 52-year-old activist, decided to fight for change and nothing could stop her. Thanks to her efforts, The Kerala Shops and Commercial Establishments (Amendment) Act, 2018, was eventually passed after an 8-year struggle for flexible working hours and a place to sit. Viji has made sure that the voices of these women are always heard, loud and clear.

George Rakesh Babu

George Rakesh Babu started his organisation, Good Samaritans India, nine years ago. From a free clinic focused in helping dress wounds and treat elderly people, especially those abandoned in the streets, his organisation has now emerged into a full-fledged destitute home, with three branches in Alwal, Warangal and Aler, in Telangana. The organisation has helped more than 300 abandoned, old, sick or dying unclaimed people left on the roads, without charging them a penny, have another chance at a happy life.