Pulling the strings
As you push open the glass doors of the Dhoomimal Gallery in Delhi’s heart, Connaught Place, the faint strains of a sitar reaches your ears. You follow the melody to a corner of the mosaiced terrace to find a baithak-of-sorts set to begin. The smell of incense fills the evening air as Pt Krishna Mohan Bhatt sits on a makeshift stage tuning his instrument.
The 79-year-old sitarist is set to perform on the sidelines of the gallery’s new exhibition, Joining the Dots: The Past has a Home in the Future, curated by Dr Annapurna Garimella. Someone approaches him to ask whether he is seated comfortably as he would need to maintain eye contact with his tabla player on the right, Bhatt says, “Humara dil ka rishta hai. Hum kaano se dekh lete hain aur aankhon se sun lete hain (There is a connection of hearts. We can see with our ears and listen with our eyes).”
The evening grows chilly with hints of early Delhi winter; the small crowd eagerly reaches for the cups of tea being passed around. It warms the throat. As the viewers sip quietly, Bhatt starts with Raaga Charukeshi as if on cue. It takes a little while for his sitar to connect with the audience. Not surprising. Bhatt is playing for the first time in India after his near-fatal accident in January earlier this year.
As his new body urges the sitar, balanced a little awkwardly on his lap—he can no longer sit cross-legged—the music suddenly comes alive. It courses through the veins of the audience; some nod in appreciation, others tap their feet or let their fingers sway in tune with the laye. He branches into Raaga Khamaj, with Vihaag elements.
Later during a candid chat, when he recalls performing his first concert at the age of 17, the Jaipur-based Bhatt says, “I don’t have any age. I could be 600 years old, or maybe 18. All I know is that music has been my companion throughout.” The artist, who has performed across Asia, Europe and North America, shares his mantra to master music, “You have to know how to open the door, how to use the 12 keys—raagas are the root music. There are only seven notes in the whole world, 12 together if you think of tones. The entire music of the world is based on those 12 notes, what I call the 12 keys.”
Born into a family of musicians, poets and Sanskrit scholars—his father, the late Pt Shashi Mohan Bhatt was a distinguished sitarist of his time—the son studied under Pt Ravi Shankar and Ustad Ali Akbar Khan. Along with his classical training, he worked on creative innovation. “Our musical tradition is oral, we don’t follow sheet music like it is done in the West.
So, even while learning under legendary gurus, every generation adds its bit to the tradition,” he says, as he reminisces about a time in New York performing with Zakir Hussain. His sitar string broke midway. “Replacing a sitar string takes time. To fill in the gap I started singing a lullaby, accompanied by the soft taal of the table,” he smiles.
Bhatt has performed across the globe. How do people abroad—especially when they are not aware of the nuances of Indian classical music—react to his music? “Musicians communicate through their music. It is a deep ocean of emotion. And when you surrender to the raagas, you immediately connect to your audience. Of course, the connection is more pronounced when it is an intimate setting,” says the artiste who often collaborates with Rajasthani folk artistes like the Manganiyars and the Langas.
But if there is one raaga that is closest to his heart, what would that be? “That’s a difficult question. It’s like asking a mother who is her favourite child. But, still, if I had to choose, I would pick the South Indian raagas. They are largely mood pieces and evoke an emotion—something that I like to do with my performances,” he smiles. It is through such artistes that India understands itself.