Ustad Nathoo Khan - Sarangi Maestro

"Nathoo Khan was arguably the best sarangi nawaz in the subcontinent in his time. I do not know his antecedents and lineage, but he was one of the artistes brought over to Radio Pakistan, Karachi, from All India Radio, by the Grand Old Man of Broadcasting, Z. A. Bukhari [1]. 

Nathoo Khan was a malang, and his performances would reflect the must in his spirit. He would twitch and jerk along with every turn of musical phrase, creating a unity of body, soul and instrument—something that is achieved only by musicians like Zakir Hussain and Chaurasia these days.



 "Nathoo Khan was a permanent fixture at Radio Pakistan Karachi, lounging around the garden of the premises when he wasn't performing as accompanist, soloist or even time-segment filler. PTV in the earlier years (around 1965 or '66) did a documentary on him, showing him in his meager home, where he talked about his music and played his collection of various stringed instruments, all of which he handled with effortless mastery. It was one of the most memorable documentaries done by the stalwarts of PTV Karachi.

"In order to get him his well-overdue recognition and improve his means, Omar Kureishi had him appointed to the PIA Arts Academy where he directed and composed a few orchestrals—not very memorable, most of it was the insipid music destined to be churned out over the airplane public address, to enhance the stupor of passengers. However he did compose a score for a dance ensemble that performed on stage in Karachi in quite a grand event. That was before breathing was deemed to be un-Islamic in Pakistan. Omar wrote a piece on Nathoo Khan, in his reminiscent Dawn columns, 'The Past is Another Country' recalling a trip of the PIA Arts Academy to Geneva. They stayed at the Intercontinental, Geneva. Nathoo Khan's rather unkempt and threadbare appearance led the hotel staff to think that he was a menial, and they offered to feed him in the hotel kitchen. Omar, who was leading the delegation, went ballistic. Nathoo Khan ate at the regular restaurant and went on to enthrall the audiences.

"The sarangi is one of the most complex instruments. While it has only three main strings, some thirty five to forty resonant strings provide it a unique timbre, and the older the sarangi, the better. Quite literally, a sarangi is considered coming into full song when it has been seasoned and played over a hundred years or so. The finger work is particularly difficult. Originally, masters of khyaal looked down on the sarangi and the sarangi-nawaz, as it was usual instrumental accompaniment to female singers, most of whom were courtesans. However around the thirties the tonal range of the sarangi was increasingly appreciated and made it the accompanying instrument of choice for the great masters of vocal Indian classical music. Nowadays the harmonium is more popular as it is much easier to play, and not as sensitive to variations in humidity and temperature. I dislike the harmonium. It is flat, noisy and tends to dominate the voice rather than augment it.

"In the late eighties I attempted to collect Nathoo Khan's music in homage to his memory. It is a sign of our times and our assault on our cultural heritage that there was not a single recording that seemed to have survived in the Radio Pakistan archives. There must have been hundreds of hours of his music in that place. No one in PTV remembered the documentary that, like the audiotapes, was rerecorded over.

"The rendition of Tilak Kamod was copied from an original reel-to-reel tape recording at a concert at the home of Isaac (he went only by that name, none of his many friends remembered the other) one of Karachi's great aesthetes. The performance conjures the memory of the manic restlessness of the Ustaad as he tries to squeeze out the last possibility offered by the raaga. The jhala is particularly exhilarating as the Ustaad draws plaintive elongations of particular phrases.

"Nathoo Khan died penurious with no musical successor." [2]

-----

[1] The two source we've consulted on Nathu Khan's biography disagree on his lineage and musical pedigree.  We reproduce them below:

Ustad Nathoo Khan was born in 1924 in Jandiala Guru, Amritsar, Punjab, to Maula Baksh, an accomplished sarangi nawaz. He received his initial musical training from his father and later from his paternal uncle Feroz Khan, Ustad Ahmadi Khan, and Ustad Zahoori Khan. Ustad Nathoo Khan passed away on 17 April 1971 in Munich, West Germany. 

Source: Pakistan Chronicle by Aqeel Abbas Jafri, Virsah : Fazl Sons, Karachi, 2010.

Another source states: Nathu Khan's father Baba Ballay was a Tabla player.  He got his initial training of sarangi playing from his uncle Ferozdin and other elders of the family. Later he became a formal disciple of the great Ahmadi Khan of Delhi. He also learned intricacies of classical music from Maula Bakh of the Talwandi Gharana. 

Source: http://zohaibhassanamritsari.com/Amritsari_Historical_Figures.html

[2] Text taken from "Notes on the Music" by Asif Mamu.

---

Review of Ustad Nathu Khan's Tilak Kamod
by Dr. Kashyap Dave
25 October 2008

Dr. Kashyap Dave —
sarangi expert and teacher

Ustad Nathu Khan is my favourite Pakistani sarangi player apart from Ustad Hamid Hussain and Ustad Zahoori Khan.

I would like to divide my review under the following headings:

1. Instrument
2. Instrumentalist
3. Performance
    a. Technicalities
    b. Justice to the raag


Instrument

Ustadji is using a medium sized Meruth-made sarangi with a narrow sound box, the wood of the sarangi being porous with light weight. The skin (madhAv) is made out of pakki khaal; hence it is white/faint yellow coloured with lots of visible dots. (Pakki khaal is that part of the goat skin which comes from the back or the sides of the animal. This skin is hairy (hence the dots), strong, and thin at the same time. It is preferred to kachi khaal (which comes from the belly) and it maintains tension owing to natural rigidity and is less subject to changes in atmospheric moisture due to its inherent dryness. These qualities allow for minimum fluctuation of notes in the tuned sarangi.)

The main playing gut strings are relatively thin compared to what Ustadji used in subsequent years. The number of sympathetic strings used here are finer, their gauge being either 30 or 32. The bow is relatively small sized and tied with horse hair (rather than with nylon) and Ustadji plays it using its edge, rather than its full width.

The sarangi is in the process of setting - maybe the skin was recently changed or Ustadji has recently adjusted the taawiz (the two small flat bridges near the crown). Here he has kept the jawaaris of the taawiz 'open' to allow the vibrating sympathetic strings to strike the flat bridges and give off a peculiarly nice and persistent sound. In later years he used to keep them 'closed' (which prevents the vibrating sympathetic strings from striking the flat bridges and so encourages only the sound coming out of the chamber).

Instrumentalist

Undoubtedly this recording is from Ustadji's younger days, and his energy flows forth from all sides. The fingers are thin and he wants to convey everything in his control within a short span of time (and he does so very successfully). However, age related maturity is still evolving, though he is not restless at anytime and delivers a great exhibition of various technical aspects.

Performance

a. Technicalities

The performance demonstrates his extraordinary command over ALL the aspects of sarangi playing, including:

- Variation in application of force, by making it low or high as per the requirement of the composition and its sentiment,

- Variety in bowing patterns, by using its full length, and cutting, or advancing with mild stoppage, etc,

- Diversity in left hand techniques, through utilizing fingering, gutta, gamaks (forward, reverse), jumps, and ghissa,

- Combination of techniques with both hands, by playing notes with the left hand and bowing with the right hand, as demanded by the lyrics, at many places, to give the composition a vocal as well as an instrumental touch.

In short, he has made his sarangi 'PLAY' (tantkAri ang) as well as 'SING' ('gAyki ang) with equal command!

___________

Dr. Kashyap Dave hails from Ahmedabad, India.  In his early years, he was trained in vocal Indian Classical Music.  In later years, after establishing himself in medical practice as a physician, he turned to the sarangi and for 12 years studied under Ustad Sultan Khan, world-renowned sarangi maestro.  Dr. Kashyap splits his spare time among a variety of interests, including listening to the choicest vocal, sarangi, and been recordings; fixing automobiles; and restoring old sarangis, constantly striving for the best available tones from the instruments.  We are extremely grateful to him for taking the time to write this review at our request.

Dr. Kashayp offers online lessons in sarangi, dilruba, and vocal music.  His students reside in different parts of the globe.  It always pleases him to see their dedication and enthusiasm, which he considers "an encouraging sign of the craving that exists for our cultural heritage."  Dr. Kashyap's Sarangi Lessons.

A Mehfil with Amanat Ali - Fateh Ali

It was the summer of 1970. I had taken off on the Great European Tour, after having messed around in Karachi for two years after high school, at Lintas. The kindly tyrant, C. A. Rauf, head honcho at Lintas, had granted me a month of leave so that I could assuage my wanderlust. I visited my sister in Paris—but that summer's escapades are another story.



The immediate point was that my mother was in the throes of loneliness with none of her brood at home. Amanat and Fateh were visiting Karachi from Lahore to perform at PTV. She saw the televised performance [1] and, in order to distract herself, asked my father to have them over at a music session at the house the next day. He managed to contact them through intermediaries, to ascertain that they were free that evening. However they asked for a fee of five hundred rupees—a princely sum those days for a government servant. Abba conveyed his thanks and declined the concert saying that the price was a bit steep. The concert would not have taken place had they not called, an hour or two later, saying they would sing for whatever remuneration Abba could afford. The probable reason for this concession is that they knew our family, since they hailed from the Patiala Gharaana. Our family hails from Patiala and was, for generations, aficionados and patrons of some of the (minor) musicians of that tradition. My maternal grandfather and Abba had maintained contact with Amanat and Fateh, post-partition. Ammi and Abba cobbled together an audience of friends and family who could come at short notice.

They sang from about nine in the evening until dawn. It was due to the heightening of the emotions that caused Amanat to break down while singing the closing notes of Bhairavi.

Amanat and Fateh were the sons of Ustaad Akhtar Husain Khan and grandsons of Ustaad Ali Bux Khan, a founder of the Patiala Gharana. In a display of their unique militaristic style, the Maharajas of Patiala awarded Ali Bux the rank of Jarnail (General) and he was referred to by that appellation. Ali Bux hailed from Kasur, I believe. The soil of that district must have something in it, as Kasuri musicians (Ustaad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan being another great scion of Kasur, and the other major figure of the Patiala Gharana, and Nur Jehan its best known musical daughter) are legendary throughout the subcontinent. Kasur found its rival in Shaam Chaurasi (a curious name that translates in English to 'evening eighty-four') in Jullundar and in Kirana, near Delhi, both districts are also renowned for their musicians, and for the musical traditions they endowed. Today, in Pakistan, the Kasuris are prominent in sending politicians to Islamabad. It would have been altogether more benign had they stayed with the music.

Amanat and Fateh, by training and talent, were perfect complements. Amanat, with his slightly nasal yet sweet melodic voice, held the high notes while Fateh had the heavier voice and a mastery over galakari.

That evening Amanat and Fateh were accompanied by Ustaad Hamid Husain on the sarangi and by Ustaad Allah Ditta on the tabla. Hamid Husain, also a master of the sarangi, was diametrically opposed to Nathoo Khan. Both his appearance and music were of a controlled serenity, in contrast to the manic effort of the other. Despite his rustic rural name, Allah Ditta was the personification of dignity. Dressed in an immaculate sherwani and with an aristocratic visage, he would furnish a subtle rhythmic backdrop for the lead artist. In those days, the tabla had not gone through the Zakir Husain Revolution and had not evolved from a rhythmic accompaniment into a melodic instrument in its own right.

The recordings of Saakh and Bageshwari are all that remain of the memory of that evening. In typical Patiala Gharana style, the alap is brief, the jor contains the substance of the expose, and the jhala presents an electrifying crescendo with its taranas. What never ceases to amuse is the earthy Punjabi used in their asides to the audience. It stands in stark contrast to the pristine Urdu/Purbi used for the bandishes of the song being sung. Four reel-to-reel tapes were produced off an Akai deck that evening, but three of these were stolen when the family moved residence in 1974. This tape survived only because Abba had lent it to a friend. Amanat died in the early seventies. Fateh, in shock after Amanat's death, did not sing for many years. After Amanat's death Fateh contacted Abba for a copy of the tapes. He was overwhelmed when informed that most of the music was lost.[2]

--
Footnotes:
[1] An early 1970's PTV performance by the duo of Raag Saakh is available on YouTube.  This gorgeous performance could well have been the one that my mother watched on TV leading to the private session that is the subject of this post.  Watch the PTV recording in three parts: one, two, three.  Such a pity about the damage to the video and loss of quality!

[2] Text taken from "Notes on the Music" by Asif Mamu.