Celebrating Ustad Allarakha Khan saab's centenary

Emperor of rhythm, 'Allaji' to the world and 'Abbaji' to his students. It is Ustad Allarakha Khan saab's centenary on Monday. Speaking of the all-day free gathering of over 100 finest classical, folk, jazz and fusion musicians from 6.30 am, the legend's son and internationally acclaimed tabla maestro Ustad Zakir Hussain told DNA: “We felt this'd be the best homage to a man God created for music.”

He went on to say: “Someone up there (pointing skywards) made a mistake and the stork dropped the child in a farmer’s house far removed from music. He felt constantly restless as a reminder of unfinished work from previous lives and he ran away from home in Paghwal, Jammu in British India to Lahore when eleven.”

(Ustads Zakir Hussain and Fazal Qureshi with their father  and tabla legend Ustad Alla Rakh Khan.)

The legend began training under a Punjab gharana teacher in Mian Kader Baksh says Hussain. “He also learnt singing from Ustad Ashiq Ali Khan of Patiala gharana. The rigorous training made him the formidable musician he was.”

The tabla maestro believes his brothers and he are kindred spirits connected to their father over several births. “How else could I pick up the language of tabla when only five? What needed to be done appeared in bold patterns in my head and I'd translate those on the tabla just like Fazal and Taufique.” Little wonder then that a young Hussain took to the stage when only 16 accompanying greats like Pt Ravi Shankar, and Ustad Ali Akbar Khan. 

But it is not only his sons who speak glowingly of the legend. Others like Aditya Kalyanpur point out how he was extremely loving and gentle to a fault, even when teaching, his style was encouraging. “He would generously teach everything equally to students never treating his sons preferentially.”

(Aditya Kalyanpur & Abbaji)

The 41-year-old tabla exponent remembers the first day when he went to the Abbaji's class for admission. “I was only four. My mom took me to the Shivaji Park class. He told us to wait. We sat at the back while he got busy with students. Four hours later he found I'd scarcely moved and was intently watching everyone play. He then agreed to teach me,” he remembers and says, “He'd encourage me with every little thing I picked up. So much so his class became my most looked forward to. This never changed till his sad demise in 2000.” 

Contemporaries from the music fraternity were as big fans of his culinary skills as his music. Pt Ravi Shankar himself was a great fan of the karela mutton and the kheema he made. Kalyanpur reminisces when the legend's Hyedarabd Estate home was being renovated and his family had the honour of hosting him in 1997. “He loved the Goan style fish and other goodies my mother made, but often rustled up amazing mutton/chicken delicacies himself. He'd give detailed instructions for chopping, peeling, etc and then lovingly put together some mouth-watering stuff,” he says and almost chokes remembering, “I was in college and sometimes came home quite late to find him waiting along with my mom to have dinner with me.”

Anuradha Pal, one of the first women tabla exponents began learning under Abbaji when 12. “He began the first lesson with a really beautiful qaida and extremely difficult 'ati-bedam' tihai, something so special that I perform in my solo concerts to date.” She says training under Abbaji was like a being a fire fighter. “It was expected we'll remember and assimilate everything without notes. He'd challenge us and chuckle childlike when he saw us getting it right.”

(Abbaji and Anuradha Pal)

Only 15 when she accompanied Abbaji for a Kolhapur concert she remembers the return flight was cancelled. “Livid, he told me to make alternate arrangements. All I could figure was an old Maruti Omni! So I sat on the floor of the Omni, Abbaji’s legs in my lap, flanked by Ammiji and sarangi maestro Ustad Sultan Khansaheb even as we were driven by an almost suicidal driver on a rough road with a non-existent, car suspension!” 

Seeing him still upset Pal tried to divert his mind by asking him to explain an 8.5 beat taal, I'd heard Zakirbhai playing. “Though he first got angry he soon began teaching me a Peshkar and Qaida in 8.5 beats followed by many gats. Despite being thrown around on the rutty roads in the noisy, non AC car, I managed to give taal and repeat as he spoke, thus inspiring him to start teaching other complex taalas of 6.5, 7.5, 11, 15, 17 beats etc through the 16-hour journey.” 

She also remembered how often Abbaji would go on teaching unmindful of what time it was and the watchman would come to tell them to leave, as he had to lock the premises by 10.30pm. “After this intense training session, Abbaji would come out and order a Limca at the canteen. Then pulling out his Dunhill cigarette, he would take a few long puffs and get back to teaching, what had been interrupted,” she smiled and adds, “At times Ammiji would come to pick up Abbaji from the class and wait for him on the opposite side of the road in the taxi/car. Abbaji would continue speaking of the composition even while we all crossed the road, straining to hear him, against the blaring horns and traffic, all of us furiously keeping taal while standing precariously on the road divider at Shivaji Park. He would keep the taxi waiting till he completed the composition to his satisfaction, leaving us, even further in awe of him and his genius.”