Interviewed by Seth Jordan
There’s something subtle going on in India these days. After centuries of subservience to their male counterparts, there’s a new generation of young Indian women making their mark in the Arts, not only at home, but internationally as well. Articulate, well educated, independently minded and extremely talented, the two most notable examples thus far have been writer Arundhati Roy (“The God of Small Things”) and film director Deepa Mehta (“Fire” & “Earth”).
In the world of classical Indian music there’s also been a quiet gender
revolution occurring. As the old masters such as Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar Khan
slow down, there’s an exciting generation of young players moving up, and for
the first time some of the very best are women. Shankar’s own daughter Anoushka
has already firmly established her own career as a talented sitarist, while his
long-time tabla partner, the late Ustad Alla Rakha, who died in February, has
bequeathed the world not only his acclaimed tabla playing son Zakir Hussain, but
another favoured student, (and the first woman to play tabla professionally),
Anuradha Pal.
Although not from a traditionally music-oriented family background, Anuradha has
been performing publicly since the age of eleven. With a devoted dedication to
long hours of practice and a strong determination to succeed, she received
favourable critical attention at an early age and became a student disciple of
both Alla Rakha and Zakir.
She now regularly appears at India’s most important classical festivals and is
an A-Grade Artist with All India Radio. She has appeared with some of the
country’s most distinguished musicians, including Hariprasad Chaurasia and
Vishwa Mohan Bhatt. She has won numerous awards, is now touring internationally,
and in ’96 founded India’s first all-female Percussion Ensemble, “Stree Shakti”.
Last year Anuradha toured Australia for the first time, alongside the Melbourne-based
Afghani sitarist, Khalil Gudaz. Her solo tabla demonstrations were a highlight
at the ’99 Bellingen Global Carnival with audiences enraptured by her
irrepressible creativity, spontaneity, good humour and overwhelming rhythmic
prowess. She recently returned to Australia for well-received performances in
Melbourne and Sydney, accompanying India’s reigning sitar star, Shahid Parvez.
She spoke to SETH JORDAN for “DIASPORA”.
Anu, not coming from a musical family, how did you choose the tabla, which is
usually considered a male instrument, as your means of expression, or did it
choose you?
Well I come from an academic professional family. It was almost mandatory to
learn some form of the Arts in my family, so I originally was learning vocal
classical music. As an adjunct I started to learn tabla when I was seven or
eight, basically just to get a sense of rhythm. Then it took over my life. When
I was about eleven I really began to enjoy it, the act of performing, the act of
communicating to audiences. I hadn’t actually decided that this is what I wanted
to do up until that point, but then I performed at a prestigious music festival
in Bombay and I was the only teenager involved. The response of the audience was
very encouraging and I realised that this is what I really wanted to do.
You must have realised even at that time though that this was not an accepted
role socially for a young woman to take on?
When I first made my decision it was not to break through any barrier, it was
simply because I was enjoying playing so much, so attracted to the complexity of
sounds that can be produced on the instrument, the technique, the communication.
My parents were always very supportive, but yes I met with a lot of opposition.
First people would say, “But you are only a girl, you’re not supposed to play
tabla. Your fingers are too small, not enough power, no stamina. The thing about
me though is if you try and stop me from doing something, I want to do it all
the more. So when people tried to dissuade me, that’s when I got more determined
to improve. I was breaking a mould, breaking the shackles of what is
traditionally supposed to be a male preserve. So there was that prejudice which
is an unfair thing to go through, especially so young. But I continued to work
at it and sometimes I still have to.
What sort of practice schedule were you expected to maintain?
I would normally put in seven to eight hours per day. When I was on summer
vacation from school I would undertake a forty day rigorous practice schedule
where you play for ten hours continuously, with maybe a break after four or five
hours. If you do stop you have to start all over again. I did that every year.
It was very demanding, a big struggle, because I was also expected to be do well
with my school studies too, so it was a balancing act between tabla and my other
studies.
In India there are often people in the audience who have enormous knowledge
of the music, very critical listeners. Did this ever worry you?
When I was young, playing was just about having fun. As I got older I realised
that there is a responsibility that I carried onto the stage. It can be
intimidating to know that there are so many in the audience that know so much.
But I think that’s where the main challenge really lies in India, it’s the acid
test. If a musician can perform successfully in India he can perform anywhere in
the world. His acceptability may vary, his popularity may vary, but he has been
raised on firm ground. If he can get critical acclaim there, he can get in
anywhere. It’s a great learning experience.
How did you go about finding the best teachers for your tabla education?
Initially I was learning from Benares teachers, and at about the age of thirteen
I started attending concerts, which is where I first heard my gurus, Ustad Alla
Rakha and Zakir Hussain. They had also seen me perform and knew that I was very
interested. It started very informally with Zakir inviting me over to their
house. I went to Ustad Alla Rakha and said, “Please treat me as one of your sons,
be as strict with me as you would with them. Slap me, hit me if you must, but
teach me.” He agreed and sure enough he was uncompromising in what he expected
and I am really grateful to him for that.
Alla Rakha died just recently. In the West he was known primarily as Ravi
Shankar’s musical partner, but can you summarise the impact and influence that
he had within India itself?
I think not only within India. Today wherever Indian music is played in the
world it is because of the contribution of Pandit Ravi Shankar and Ustad Alla
Rakha. They opened the doors of Indian classical music forever. They made people
realise and appreciate the value of this music. As far as the rhythmic aspect
goes, Ustad Alla Rakha created a new language of tabla. He fine-tuned it as an
accompanying instrument, creating new possibilities, a variety of sounds. He
could blend it with any other instrument. He created his own individual unique
stamp. Also he was a pioneer as a tabla soloist, making people accept the
instrument as a solo voice, not necessarily just as an accompanying sound. His
style was rhythmical complicated, technically beautiful and yet universally
appealing. That is his greatest contribution and I believe tabla players, other
musicians and music lovers will value him for centuries.
His son Zakir Hussain has obviously inherited the family brilliance as a
player. Are there differences or similarities in learning from the father as
well as the son?
It is a very demanding thing to learn from such people, because since they have
set such exacting standards for themselves, they expect the same from their
students. Zakir has also been very strict with me, he’s a perfectionist. That’s
appropriate and has really helped me have the confidence to play in any
situation, with any artist. My training is good, my foundation is good. That
confidence, which you inherit from your teachers, is essential.
When you’re playing as a tabla accompanist you often have to defer to the
lead melody instrument. Is it difficult to hand over that musical responsibility
when you have your own strong direction?
That is actually where my biggest struggle was. As an accompanist it depends
very much on the other musician and what he expects of you. He may not be able
to articulate what he expects of you very well. It’s really a matter of getting
under the musician’s skin, literally. Get into his style, his temperament, into
his mind. You have to actually be able to think before he does, to anticipate
where he’s going, to know by intuition. It’s a very tough role. Comparatively
when I play tabla solo I’m the boss of the stage, it’s just me and the audience.
But as an accompanist you have to be simultaneously one step behind and one step
ahead. It’s a difficult process, but it comes from your training, your
experience. It’s something that you just feel. I listen to other tabla players
accompanying individual musicians and try to assimilate what they’re doing well,
calculate what needs to be a bit more or less when I’m playing with that person.
I have to find the right combination, the right mix so that the performer’s
happy, I’m happy, and the audience is happy.
You’re playing now more often to Western audiences, who in most circumstances
do not have the same understanding of your classical tradition as the Indian
audiences. They may even be hearing live Indian music for the first time. Do you
have to adjust your approach depending on the audience you’re playing to?
You can never underestimate an audience. Every audience knows if what they’re
hearing is right or wrong, even if they are not as musically educated. To teach
an audience is to learn more yourself. They may have more or less preconceived
notions, their attention span may be different, and yes it may require more
explanation, but this is not necessarily a bad thing. It’s very challenging. The
Indian audiences are the most difficult to please, because they’ve heard so much
great music, it’s part of their culture and you’re not a novelty for them. You
are either good quality or nothing at all. You’re judged on that.
Some Indian musicians seem to find Western audiences, if anything, even more
enthusiastic and less inhibited about showing their appreciation than their
Indian counterparts. Do you agree?
Oh absolutely! When I played last year with my female ensemble at the WOMAD
Festival in England it was an amazing experience. The way the people were
swinging and dancing and shouting out for more, they were so enthusiastic!
Perhaps in India we have so much music, an overdose of it sometimes, that we
might tend to undervalue it. It can take more to get people really involved with
the performance.
Tell me about this percussion ensemble of yours, “Stree Shakti”.
I started it off in ’96 and it’s a combination of Hindustani and Carnatic music,
bringing together vocal, instrumental and percussion music, which is rather rare.
All members are women and all are excellent performers. I change the group’s
size depending on the venue and the budget. Sometimes it’s just a percussion
ensemble and other times it’s a bigger group with the Hindustani vocals, veena
and violin. “Stree” means women and “Shakti” of course means power. This is not
a feminist statement though.
It’s not the Indian equivalent of the Spice Girls’ “Girl Power” then?
Definitely not! But it does come from the fact that I have encountered
opposition and prejudice when I came into the field, and I feel that while
nothing less should be expected of women, we should be able to take our rightful
place in the mainstream. Don’t discriminate on the basis of our gender, that’s
our only statement. “Stree Shakti” is more of a coming together for the members
involved, it’s a celebration of life.
The two most well-known tabla players in the world at the moment, your
teacher Zakir Hussain and Trilok Gurtu, both have made a habit of not only
playing in the classical mode, but also working on musical projects that bridge
across to more contemporary forms, such as jazz, cross-cultural experiments, and
the whole Indian/English Bhangra/Techno/Hip-Hop dance scene with all the Indian
mixmaster DJs. Do you see yourself getting involved with that type of crossover
music in the coming years, or will you be staying more in the traditional camp?
My first love will always be Indian classical music, but there are really no
holds barred. I would like to experiment with other musicians, I like jazz and
rock and most of the other forms. I played with Japanese drummers when I was
performing at a festival in Japan, which was like a big jam session. I’ve also
done some work with Flamenco players. So yes I like to experiment too. I think
it opens your mind.
World Music Central
http://www.worldmusiccentral.org/article.php/20030418171102611