Led by the strings of the tanpura

Padma Vibhushan Gangubai Hangal’s masculine timber-rich voice put Hubli on the map of Hindustani classical music. Despite recuperating from an illness at the hospital, this 97-year-old greets DNA with an energy that belies her age

A guided tour of Gangubai Hangal’s life and times is just a doorbell away in Hubli. And you needn’t even be familiar with the address or even notice the street sign that confirms you are on the way to her residence Ganga Lahari in Deshpandenagar which also houses the ‘Museum of Indian Classical Music’. Padma Vibhushan Gangubai Hangal is a household name here and you could put that fact to the test.

The musician, known to be easily accessible to anyone keen on meeting her, is away at AB Kalamdani hospital, recuperating from an illness. There is a way to get past the door with the “Strictly no visitors” sign even after 9.30 pm. Contact Manoj Hangal, Gangubai’s grandson, who manages the museum and publicity of the various projects initiated in her name.

The museum is Manoj’s contribution to the world of Indian classical music, he says, going on to quote Pandit Jasraj who had said “May every musician be blessed with a grandson like him,” after inaugurating this “first-of-its-kind museum in the country” in 2005. “I would accompany ajji (grandmother) to concerts and I’d be asked if I was a musician. I’d feel left out. So this is my way of belonging,” says the former “powerful politician and criminal lawyer”.

His parents aren’t “media savvy”, he says. However, on another occasion, Baburao Hangal, Gangubai’s second child does open up, recollecting the years when the house would be filled with the matriarch’s deep voice.

The living room has a long list of the eminent people who’ve been there and were moved by Gangubai’s renditions.

Among her early performances was the one in front of Mahatma Gandhi during the opening of the Indian National Congress in 1924. An 11-year-old, she feared she would be asked to eat separately and clean up after the upper castes had finished, she is famously quoted to have said. Her birth in a family of ‘low caste boatmen’ was source of much hardship that punctuated most of the legendary musician’s life.

The museum, however, is a far cry from the days that Gangubai lived, fighting for respectability for musicians and supporting her family after her husband’s death in her early ‘20s.

The museum, spread across three rooms, is filled with every comprehensible award one can get. “Anyone who is curious about what kind of mementos can there be or wants to see what a woman who had barely finished primary schooling can achieve, should come here,” says Manoj.

As you walk through the museum gazing at the pictures of the celebrated vidushi’s moods of the last 90-odd years, you might expect a CD with music from Gangubai playing in the background, but there is just an all-pervasive silence.

A few Indian instruments are spread out on the floor, pictures of the greats of Indian classical music dating back to 1454 crowd the walls. Ashok Nadiger, a performing artiste and a disciple of Gangutai (as the music community addresses her) shows us rare pictures.

A few are those taken at the annual music festival held in honour of the architect of Kirana Gharana Pt Abdul Kareem Khan in Kundgol, a village 30 km away from Dharwad. Gangubai used to travel for lessons from guru Pandit Sawai Gandharv. She had to brave the jeers of people who would come rushing out to see a ‘low caste’ singer walk through the streets, as she is quoted to have said in an interview.

Now, sitting up in the hospital ward, 97-year-old Gangubai Hangal greets visitors with an energy that belies her age. “Where are you from? Where are you staying? What do you do?” she says, moving quickly from one question to the next. “My hearing seems to have become a little weak,” she says, looking at her nurse for assistance. As we prepare to leave, advice and blessings are doled out generously. The encounter with the “living legend” is brief but overwhelming.

Dr Ashok Kalamdani, the orthopaedician attending on Gangubai is one of the doctors investigating the “myoclonic jerks” or episodes of involuntary vigorous jerks she’s been troubled with for the last few days.

His association with the doyenne of Kirana Gharana goes back to childhood. “We were neighbours. I have grown up listening to the rich, deep voice we can’t get enough of. I’ve been her doctor for years,” he says. When he left town to take up assignments in other northern cities, it was Gangubai’s name that came handy while introducing his hometown to new colleagues. “People would often mistake if for Hoogly. When I would spell it out, they would ask ‘Oh, you are from Gangubai’s place’?”

The city of Hubli owes much to Gangubai’s talent — her masculine timber-rich voice put Hubli on the map of Hindustani classical music. What’s more, she stayed loyal to her birthplace, unlike most others who moved to more ‘fecund’ cities to further their careers. “She lived here all her life and has done much not just for music but also for other social issues. She was an activist as well,” says Manoj. She also served as the president of Karnataka Music and Dance Academy during 1982-84 and was member of legislative council from 1992-94.

Instances of her participating in hunger strikes, lending a voice to agitations even at the expense of losing assignments are plenty. But it is the music that forms a constant background to it all. Narayanrao Hangal, her third child remembers accompanying her to concerts. His residence in Bailappanavarnagar, Pallavi Ganga, proudly wears paintings of his mother; the shelves are filled with more mementos.

Clearly, she forms the precious core of the Hangals’ world. “She hardly practised at home. We accompanied her to concerts and listened to her there. Even Krishna picked up the art just by listening,” he says. Krishna Hangal was Gangubai’s first child who emulated her mother’s success.

Gangubai had to suffer her beloved daughter’s loss when she died of cancer at the age of 75. She was well acquainted with loss — the death of her mother Ambabai and husband Gururao Kaulgi left her deeply scarred — and music offered little comfort, she says in her autobiography The Song of My Life.

Perhaps, the comfort was hers only to give. “When she was 92, I listened to her sing Shankara and Bahar. I can still hear the taar shadj she touched during that performance. Kirana Gharana gives special importance to swar (notes) and bhavana (feeling); I have seen people being moved to tears,” says vocalist Anirudh Neglur who trained under Pt Bhimsen Joshi’s disciple Shripathi Padiger.

Gangubai and Joshi or Bhimanna, as she addresses him, studied together under Pt Sawai Gandharv and their association forms a considerable chunk of Gangubai’s story. The narrative however is elusive. “It’s not possible to study ajji in a day or two. It’s 100 years of history,” says Mahesh Hangal, Narayanrao’s son.

A piece of that history is preserved in a tiny house in Shukravarpeth in Dharwad where Gangubai was born. Inaugurated a year ago, it has on display pictures, most of which are copies of those put up in the Hubli museum. It was here that Gangubai “performed for a few minutes on her birthday on March 5 this year,” says Renuka Salunke, one of the caretakers of the museum, as she puts on the only CD of Gangubai kept here. Fans going all the way here would be disappointed that this “unique” museum has no literature or souvenirs.

So can one find CDs in Hubli at least? “Ajji’s CDs and cassettes are like Peter Scott whiskey, you don’t get them everywhere,” says Manoj. The reason — Gangubai stayed true to the Kirana Gharana, keeping away from bhajans and other genres of music. She also avoided recordings.

The inspiring journey through Padmavibhushan Gangubai’s legacy is incomplete without a visit to the gurukul under construction on a 5-acre space on the outskirts of the city, Manoj tells us. “It’s six months away from completion. I am sure it will attract students from all over the world,” he says looking forward to his ajji visiting the campus and commending his “achievement”. For ajji, this is just another note in the song of her life, one that will inspire generations to keep the music going.