“Please sing ‘Raag Bairagi’,” she implored.
“This is no time for it,” he replied.
“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted.
Since his politeness wasn’t going anywhere, he uttered a conclusive NO.
Of Morning Ragas
This exchange befits the pages of a romantic novella by a debuting author, not the auditorium where one of the most respected classical singers of India just concluded his more than an hour long Dhrupad recital. Ustad F Wasifuddin Dagar refused to sing ‘Raag Bairagi’, a morning raag preferably sung in the pratham prahar of the day, at 7:45 pm at India International Centre in New Delhi on Sunday, 7 May. His performance that evening was a special one, a tribute to his uncle and guru Ustad Nasir Zahiruddin Dagar on his 23rd death anniversary. The embarrassed compère later apologised for her inappropriate demand. The packed-to-capacity auditorium was bemused at this jousting that encapsulates what ails the Indian classical music scene.
A classical music concert is not a cohortative activity for most young people in the city. Even for the older ones, it becomes more a matter of being seen at the right place, with the right people. Since most classical music concerts are now beginning to be about everything else except music, how will anybody know the difference between the morning and evening Raagas? How will they know that the alaap is but an improvisation to prime the audience for the bandish?
An Attention Deficit Among Audience Members
Most people lose interest before the alaap evolves into jor. The poor jhala competes hard with smartphone notifications and has to content itself with a much trimmed audience.
The mean age of the audience at this concert was greatly impacted by the two seven-year-old girls accompanying their respective mothers.
The few young people there were either the friends of the artists or some conspicuous social rebels. Who else would prefer a dhrupad recital that demands a certain degree of meditativeness even on the part of the audience over an easy-to-consume baby-food-like pop music on a Sunday evening?
A middle-aged gent spent the good part of the concert devising ways to block seats for two youngsters, who sauntered in mid-performance. Since it wasn’t a ticketed event, he could bury his head in the phone guilt-free. Rarely do we see such commitment to the mobile screen in the multiplexes, for a movie ticket has begun to cost a fortune. After all, it is not for nothing that Baahubali 2 has crossed the galactic figure of 1,000 crore in less than 10 days of its release.
Does Indian classical music need to find new ways to capture the imagination of a visibly young India? The purists would loathe the idea. Pt Rajeshwar Acharya, who performed next, insisted upon the purity of the musical form. The Dagarvani variant of Dhrupad music is known for its stylistic limpidity. Pt Acharya said how the Dagar gharana never took recourse to ghazal or Bollywood to stay relevant. He also commented sarcastically on the many compulsions that the citizens of Delhi have, including long commuting hours, when people began to leave even before he had begun.
Classical music, western or Indian, has always been a niche activity with a small target audience. At a time when parents are charting out “extra-curricular” plans for their kids with an ardour hitherto reserved for engineering or medical coaching classes, the real joy in music is waning. It is no wonder, then, that the small IIC auditorium could not keep even the older members of the audience engaged till the evening drew to a close.
(The writer is Associate Fellow (Gender) at Observer Research Foundation. She can be reached @TedhiLakeer. This is an opinion piece and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)
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