The world of Indian classical music is riddled with beautiful stories of love, loss, destruction, redemption, peace and much more. Some of the biggest proponents of this art form have had folk lores sung about them and their contributions to this world of music. Some others, however, have had the unique pleasure of taking our ancient knowledge to a global stage and introducing the world to its melodies.
However, there remains a huge, gaping hollow in the tales and folk lores of these musicians. Be it the stories of how Allauddin Khan (noted Sitar maestro) could stop riots in a communally charged Bengal just by walking its streets in the 1940s, or the stories of how Ustad Allarakha and Pt. Ravi Shankar gave birth to the Indian Fusion, there remains a void. And that void is the lost voice of one of the greatest musicians this world ever saw (or rather, couldn't see): Annapurna Devi.
The daughter of Allauddin Khan, Annapurna Devi was christened so by the Maharaja Brijnath Singh of Madhya Pradesh's Maihar state. Her father used to play in the court, and was hailed as the greatest sitar player of that time and Annapurna got the same gift.
She began learning at 11 years of age, and soon outdid her father's star students: Pt. Ravi Shankar and Ustad Ali Akbar. Her father chose her as the person whom he would teach and who would carry forward his teacher's gift: the surbahar (bass sitar).
Two years after starting her studies, she was wedded to Pt. Ravi Shankar as per her father's wishes. Theirs was a match arranged by others, but a match that would soon destroy her. Annapurna was converted to Hinduism before she married her husband. A few years later, the couple started performing together, and as was destiny's plan, everyone who heard them knew that she was the superior musician. Annapurna's surbahar was flawless, her talents unmatched. She had done only a few performances, but she could feel a certain gravity in her marriage. Pt. Ravi Shankar did not like the attention that she was given. He grew resentful, and eventually forced her to quit performing altogether. She even vowed never to appear in public again, and true to her word, she didn't.
The only recording of Annapurna's appearance and performance in public is an old one from the 1960s. She lived the rest of her life, all of 91 years, as a recluse. She taught the likes of Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasiya, but never again did anyone apart from Pt. Ravi Shankar, her second husband Mr. Rooshikumar Pandya, and the Beatle George Harrison hear her play. Her students were taught through singing, and her social circle was non existent.
As I said, a void as big as the absence of this musical genius from the world of music is something nothing will ever fill. I have wondered at her life for almost 5 years now. She creeps up in my subconscious every now and then. I imagine a 14 year old girl, surrounded by men who are going to be world famous for their music. I imagine her sitting with them during riyaz and quietly, patiently, just devoting herself to her art. I envy these men. I envy those who heard her play, I envy those who saw her when she hadn't been through the phase that every woman must invariably face: that phase when she had to choose between saving her marriage or taking what was hers.
I named this article Lost in Translation. I think that is what Annapurna Devi and her music were: lost in translation. They were trying to translate their worship and talent into love, and their marriage to partnership. But they were lost the moment their recipient decided that his ego must be bigger.
Abhimaan, a Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bachchan starrer, was made on the story of Pt. Ravi Shankar and Annapurna Devi. The movie ends well though, unlike the real life story of these two. (On a side note though, the story of Jaya and Amitabh Bachchan may also be bordering on the lines of Abhimaan)
What should have been an ideal ending to this tragedy? Should Ravi Shankar have forsaken his glittering career and accepted the fact that his wife would always overshadow him? Or should Annapurna have been stronger, divorced him and continued performing (even though she wasn't fond of public performances)? I do not know. I just know that love, pride and a lot of resentment robbed us of one of the legends of the musical world. If there were ever to be a tragedy in real life, I think I would find it right here, in the lost art of surbahar and his estranged lover.
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