Lucky he who hastens to taste the honey of life
Unlucky he who stays at home with his wife
Can you believe that this couplet advertised the gramophone “plate” — and the charm — of the quaintly named Miss Dulari? Scattering such intriguing sidelights, Hindustani vocalist Vidya Shah recreated the bygone era of north Indian courtesans and their phonograph recordings at Prakriti Foundation’s Gharana Festival in Chennai. Her remarkable singing, narration and video/audio clips shaped a modern performance genre.
This opened a flood of my own childhood memories of black discs revolving under a needle. They played kriti, khyal, thumri and bhajan, often signed off in English — “My name is Miss Gauhar Jaan champion!” or “My name is Coimbatore Thayi”!
What an irony that European companies should have preserved India’s multiple heritage of classical and light music! Indian performers learnt to compress their hours-long live performance to 3-5 minutes, recorded at one go — no cuts or splices. An exhausting process. Reportedly, star singer Vasantakokilam once fainted after the recording session.
When Emil Berliner, founder of the Gramophone Company, bought a cutesy painting, could he have imagined that this logo of His Master’s Voice would become the best known trademark in India? Or that this picture of a terrier, gazing at the huge metal horn on a hand-cranked box, would launch a new game for a little girl in distant Madurai? “I used to roll paper cones and sing endlessly into them,” MS Subbulakshmi confessed. This dream came true when mother Shanmukhavadivu persuaded the sound engineer who recorded her veena, to give her daughter a chance. The 8-year-old sang in an impossibly high-pitched voice, and stepped into the spotlight.
My cherished memories are of winding the handle on a big black box to play the 78rpm “plates” in grand aunt MS Subbulakshmi’s collection. Lightning and thunder alternated in her duets of Vande mataram and Dhono dhanne pushpe bhora with Bengali musician Dilipkumar Roy.
Grand aunt had her favourites. Abdul Karim Khan drew a sigh, DV Paluskar set her humming along. Hadn’t his Thumak chalat been Tamilised for her (Engum nirai nadabrahmam) in the film Sakuntalai? In an age innocent of intellectual property rights, a KL Saigal hit — Balam aaye baso more man mein — became Poonkuyil koovum, and led to Subbulakshmi’s rival winning laurels as Poonkuyil (koel-voiced) Pattammal.
Yesteryear musicians disclosed their fears of the recording room, and their superstitions about the machine stealing their voice. Others objected to their music blaring from “unholy” tea stalls and public parks. But in no time at all, everyone realised that this new family entertainer ensured fantastic publicity. The competition was fierce. Artistes found colleagues rushing to record the songs they were rehearsing with care.
The 1950s and 60s witnessed the phenomenon of the gramophone concert(!), when friends gathered to hear every kind of “plate” music from Musiri Subramania Iyer to Rasoolanbai. I also remember homesick Europeans listening to Bach and Beethoven on the sea-facing verandah in the home of the inscrutable Yagneswara Sastri (dance diva Rukmini Devi’s brother), and his American wife Norma. Their colonial house in the Theosophical Society, Chennai, created its own moonlight sonata when the crescent floated above, and the room was filled with the fragrance of frangipani flowers blooming on the trees hugging the walls.
The bulky gramophone machine is a dinosaur now. The world has moved on to futuristic listening devices. But Vidya Shah’s unique recital proved how, unlike ipod and smartphone, the gramophone was not a disposable, exchangeable consumer product for casual ownership. It spelt wonder, shaped fantasy, and melodized romance.
The author is a playwright, theatre director, musician, and journalist writing on the performing arts, cinema and literature.
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