How Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar powered the Indian cultural economy

Kolkata: Their names do not exactly rhyme but they surely have loads of rhythm. 2022 is the birth centenary of Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and the 10th death anniversary of Pandit Ravi Shankar, so a great time to appreciate their noble excesses.

At the very roots, they did share a common Guru, the legendary Alauddin Khan, biological parent to the sarod maestro and surely the ideological father of the sitar icon. Their training was rooted in Maihar, in rather spartan and exacting conditions, but this proved to be an unlikely yet formidable foundation for lives entrenched with unfettered wings. Their staccato global forays of the 1950s proved to be the fulcrum of the exportability of Indian culture, in a respectable and monetizable fashion.

While Ali Akbar was the stoic genius, Ravi Shankar was clearly the Marketing Guru, managing to blend his exceptional acumen with winnable projection. What must have helped is the pioneering influence of his brother Uday Shankar, a dancer of spellbinding innovation, whose prolific troupe rocked Europe in the 1930s and further. At that time, he was actually a dancer in the ensemble but picked up sufficient wisdom on how to capture the Westerner’s hungry imagination.

The formula seems brutally simple today but must have been amazingly inspirational in those primordial times. Getting off the high horse of exclusivity in environment and discernment in audiences, they performed clinically anywhere and everywhere and collaborated like possessed demons, Especially Ravi Shankar, whose gigs at the Monterrey Festival and the Concert For Bangladesh were coupled with a doting clientele that did not exclude George Harrison of Beatles heritage.

One of the smart things that Ravi Shankar certainly did was to include Allah Rakha in his forays, the flamboyant percussionist who was the founding father of Zakir Hussain. The delirium of the tabla was an eclectic foil to the eccentricities of the sitar, and surely prescriptive medicine for doped Western audiences seeking a notional concept of peace. As a valuable aside, the stature enjoyed by the rotund twosome (instruments) enriching the wares of the string can well be ascribed to this magical marketer, possessed with a Rasputin-like sensibility for customer geniality.

In all this, Ali Akbar remained the sheet anchor, a classicist who would graciously embrace the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in a suit, but desist sternly from excessive exuberances. For every aesthetic reason, he always reminded me of Azharuddin the batsman, a moody performer whose finest would be alarmingly occasional but invariably heavenly. A bit like the perfect mutton chaap at Royal Indian Hotel, Calcutta, always invoking the aroma while selectively demonstrating the evidence and there will definitely be many parallels.

But back to the pecuniary dimensions of this otherwise romantic discussion, as validation of a well-honed hypothesis. Every time you see an astute performer claiming territorial conquests in foreign lands, do remember that the story began in a little village in what is now the state of MP. Where a Bengali Muslim gentleman, renowned for an orchestra very splendid, Maihar Band, curated a tradition of cultural affinity that is now being milked by infinite generations of Indians and possibly Pakistanis as well.

The good news for all of us, most clearly, is that the successors of Ravi Shankar, Allah Rakha and Ali Akbar, in spirit surely, continue to enthral contemporary generations with love and genius. In turn, they instigate many others to partake in classical music as a valid profession, with the remuneration arriving from Europe or America and the accolades residing in India. This is certainly a business outcome, way above the soft skill dimensions of nurturing a cultural heritage that is truly precious.

An Ali Akbar Ravi Shankar jugalbandi with Allah Rakha as Fevicol was the signature dish of Indian classical music for generations. Today, the adhesive is indeed intact with thankfully, many worthies earning their rightful place in the ensemble. Thus making this a viable career option and not just the indulgence of the highly opulent or the dismissively depraved.

But every time you see a dashing performer with enhanced charisma flaunting global antecedents, do pause for a moment to recognise where it all began. A Gharana called Maihar is flaunted majestically by an obsessed Guru, equally lovingly entrenched by emotion that knows no par.

One can argue infinitely whether Vilayat Khan was a better sitarist than Ravi Shankar or debate on how the house of Hafiz Ali Khan, elegantly brought to life by Amjad, is a finer specimen of sarod prolificity. But nobody, even marginally informed, can ever contest that the universal outreach of our culture was spearheaded by ambassadors Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar, evangelists disregarding the limitations of par.