At the age of 10, Ustad Murad Ali Khan, sixth generation member of the illustrious Moradabadi gharana was asked to pick an instrument to learn. He could have chosen the sitar or tabla, comparatively easy to learn. Or he could have learned to train his voice, as he had been doing since age three. Yet, it was the difficult-to-master sarangi that the boy picked. Its unique tonality was the reason for Khan’s choice, and also his desire to preserve his family’s legacy as its foremost exponent. “My musical education went far beyond learning this instrument,” recalls the musician. “I observed, imitated, listened to anecdotes, and learned to understand the lesser-known nuances of the musical form. Playing the sarangi became a way of life.”
On a recent winter evening at Delhi’s cultural epicentre, Triveni Kala Sangam, Khan, accompanied by the Saurang Parampara Ensemble consisting of family members and disciples, performed at the Legacy Series organised by the Kiran Nadar Museum of Art (KNMA). It began with a melodious rendition of a khayal played softly on the sarangi by Khan’s son, Subhan Ali. Its highpitched notes began slowly and took on an increasingly faster pace before ending with a flourish. The music however did not continue, in keeping with the traditional format. The purpose of KNMA’s Legacy Series is to educate as well as to entertain. In this particular case, it meant shining a light on the instrument that played a central role in Indian classical music for centuries but has seen a decline in popularity in the 20th century due to the prejudice of being associated with courtesans. Khan’s performance came with strings attached: there were humorous anecdotes and insights interspersed with music. He narrated stories of the sarangi’s origins. One was its link to Ravana because of its alternative name Ravanahatha. Another was a bizarre tale of a Middle Eastern doctor seeing a dead monkey clinging to a tree with its intestines being strung by the wind. The technicalities of playing the sarangi, improvisations to its design, and some memorable performances were subjects in the conversations.
However, the real proof of the versatility of the sarangi was in its playing. The musical renditions included a Saadra marked by a ten-beat rhythm cycle known as the jhaptaal performed by Manonmani and Prabhjeet Kaur Namdhari—two talented female disciples of Khan and his father Ustad Ghulam Sabir Khan, followed by a playful and lively tappa sung by young Mohd Ayaan Warsi, Khan’s nephew and a classic thumri by his other nephews Shahnawaz Ali, Mohd Tabish, and Rehan Ali.
Says Khan, “My grandfather, Siddiqi Ahmed Khan, told me that for every five-six hours of practice to master the various raagas on the sarangi, I must also dedicate an hour to thumri and other lighter music forms since they will hone and improve my skill.”
In the contemporary arts scene, performances have to transcend mere grammar to include esoteric information that tells stories. Hence three 150 year old heirloom sarangis from Khan’s family’s collection were on display to represent his ancient lineage. There were old recordings sharing their unique tonal qualities. The preservation of his family’s legacy is of utmost importance to Khan. “My practice comes with immense responsibility and a certain amount of pressure. It is important that my performances and teaching are able to resonate with that of my elders,” he shared with candour.
This was done most admirably when the entire Saurang Parampara Ensemble came together for the final performance of the evening. Seven sarangis played a beautiful orchestra with only the beat of the tabla for company. It proved Khan’s choice at age 10 was the right one.