Articles by Rishi Majumder, and other

words…
This blog has articles written by Rishi Majumder, now a freelance journalist, on a wise
(cracked… that too) variety of topics and issues…

Archive for 2009

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It’s the Bhagats, you bet!

July 30, 2009

 
Rishi Majumder and Bhupen Patel profile a family that hit the jackpot
when they invented the matka
Photographer (for Vinod Bhagat): Satish Malavade
I’m a jyotish, not a gambler,” said Kalyanji Gangadhar Bhagat on the April 2, 1962, at the
‘opening call’ of the first ever matka in the compound of his building Vinod Mahal, in Worli.
Unlike latter matkas, picture cards—such as king, queen and knave—were included in the pack
from which cards would be picked to determine the day’s winning numbers. “The queen and
king represented numbers 11 and 12 respectively, the 12 figures signifying the 12 rashis of
Indian astrology,” remembers Vinod Bhagat, Kalyanji’s son and Suresh Bhagat’s elder brother.
“The knave, if picked would be tossed aside.” Today the Bhagat family’s cards, or jyotish-vidya,
foretell a full circle. There’s a king, a queen and a knave. But it’s not the knave that’s been
tossed aside.

KALYANJI BHAGAT
Born a farmer in the village of Ratadia, Ganesh Wala in Kutch, Gujarat, Kalyanji’s family name
was Gala. “’Bhagat’, a modification of ‘ bhakt’, was a title given to our family by the King of
Kutch for our religiousness,” says Vinod. “The King didn’t give much else to the Kutchis, which
resulted in mass migration to avoid drought and famine,” recalls Pravin Shah, a Kutchi financial
consultant who’s researched the matka system as a hobby, and met Kalyanji often in this
regard. “Kalyanji, one such migrant, came to Bombay in 1941.” From there on, after jobs like
masala feriwala and kirana store manager, his journey from a room in a BBD Chawl to owning
two buildings, ensued from his becoming a bookie receiving bets on the opening and closing
figures of the New York and Bombay Cotton Markets.
From the mid fifties however, the cotton figures became too predictable to be bet on, prompting
Kalyanji to study the American numbers game, and introduce matka. “The name matka is
because the idea occurred to my father while seeing people bet on numbered chits drawn from
a pot,” Vinod clarifies. “No actual matka was ever used.”
This non-existent matka travelled from Worli’s Vinod Mahal, to an area near Zaveri Bazaar
(where it was managed by to be rival Ratan Khatri) to various parts of India and eventually the
world (bets were booked from the Middle East and the US). Even with Khatri breaking away in
1964 to form ‘Ratan Matka’, a daily ‘turnover’ of rupees one crore (cited in 1974) left plenty for
everyone.
Kalyanji’s ability was one reason for his meteoric rise. He instituted a syndicate to overlook card
picking, to ensure gambler’s trust. Unlike Khatri, he shunned publicity to keep his operations
away from public glare, yet had hotlines to the city’s who’s who. The brand ‘Kalyan Worli Matka’
was spread by word of mouth and through goodwill generated by countless philanthropic
activities he undertook. But another reason for his success was the game’s format. “You can bet
even with one rupee, so even beggars bet,” Shah lists. “You can bet on just one digit, and have
better odds than at a lottery (odds vary from 1:9 to 1:15,000). And the process is so simple.”
And still, the format of matka resembled that of a lottery, a fact that, coupled with a tremendous
amount of bribe, prompted authorities to treat it lightly.

JAYANTILAL, VINOD AND SURESH BHAGAT

“The spread of matka In India has been phenomenal,” says Joint Commissioner Crime, Rakesh
Maria, who’s in charge of the Suresh Bhagat murder investigation. “It is has the capability of
subverting an entire system. It is with this case that we have understood its magnitude. It is the
underworld’s economic pipeline.” Though Maria refuses to state figures, another police officer
quotes on condition of anonymity that rupees one crore is now the daily ‘profit’ generated by the
business. “I left the family matka business 30 years ago,” claims Vinod. “And so did Jayantilal
(the eldest of the brothers).” While Jayantilal Bhagat diversified into the wholesale sugar market,
Vinod started a film equipment business, supplying the latest in the field. “A popular area of
diversification for all three brothers, as indeed many who transferred illegitimate funds to
legitimate businesses was shops, given to a relative or friend to manage,” says Shah. Suresh,
known like his father for his acts of charity, often placed a person in need of a job in such a
shop, for which he would pay the pagri (advance), on condition that he continue to receive a
share of profits even after the pagri was repaid.
Vinod keeps emphasizing every once in a while that Suresh, despite being in the matka
business had a “kind heart”. “He was a simple man. His only hobby, which is also mine, was
listening to Hindi film songs,” continues Vinod, pointing to a closet full of Hindi film CDs. “Even if
someone betrayed him, he would never harm the person… just tell him to get lost.”
Yet why did he not let the matka business go, even after it became dangerously imbued with
underworld influence? “Whoever runs this business has too much power,” Vinod protests. “He
didn’t want it to go into the wrong hands.” Police sources believe otherwise: “No one would let
go of a goose that lays golden eggs. Yet the business was slipping from Suresh’s hands
because he was unable to control the huge network of bookies it operated through.”

Jaya Bhagat. Background: Board used to declare Matka results...

JAYA AND HITESH BHAGAT

Jaya Chheda had an arranged marriage with Suresh Bhagat in 1979. Vinod refrains from talking
about her, simply saying, “I have my family to fear for. I don’t want to say anything that may put
them in danger.”
“Her father, who had a grocery store in Kalbadevi, was known as an extremely pious man,” cites
a family friend of the Bhagats, as the reason for the Bhagats’ choice of Jaya as bride. “The
Kutchi community in Bombay held him in high regard.” This friend and certain members of the
family, while choosing to remain anonymous, cast a variety of aspersions on Jaya’s “bad
character showing early”, ranging from her being unduly ambitious and siphoning off the family’s
funds, to her alleged affair with Gawli aide Suhas Roge. “She was eager to show off and live the
good life, while Suresh had a modest lifestyle,” is the reason stated for the rift between the two.
Suresh and Jaya’s son Hitesh Bhagat (in his late 20s), meanwhile, is simply described as a
wayward child, who takes his mother’s side.
A source within the police department who witnessed Jaya’s interrogation during an earlier
arrest claims differently: “She cited endless instances of psychological cruelty by family
members, culminating even in death threats.”
But even if psychologically oppressed and morally debauched, how did a traditional Kutchi
housewife take over 70 per cent of a matka empire worth hundreds of crores? (An empire that
she supposedly commands even while in police custody today, via her brothers Deepak and
Kiran Chheda.) “The process was gradual,” the same officer continues. “First she learnt the
business from her husband. Then as her husband lost control over the bookies, they started
referring to her. Even Roge was a person she met as a Bhagat family friend.” Her alliance with
Roge, he says, could have facilitated her getting her husband trapped in the series of narcotics
cases which kept him in and out of jail for three years.
When asked whether the murder of Vasant Shah in 1998, which the Gawli gang is accused of
executing to safeguard Pappu Saavla’s matka empire, bears a parallel to this case, police
officers refuse comment. Joint Commissioner Maria does too, but says, “The person who draws
the card and calls the numbers (called ‘chief’ in matka parlance) holds immense power. Enough
to entail a mass murder like the one we have witnessed.” Put differently, Suresh Kalyan
Bhagat’s ‘closing call’ came early, at around 2 pm, June 13, 2008. It would appear the matka
was fixed.

matka in the yesteryears

The inimitable Ratan Khatri...

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India:​ http://alturl.com/oh42
Posted in ​Business​, ​Crime​, ​History​, O
​ rganisations​, ​Profile​, ​Sport​ | ​Leave a Comment »

The Stars of Sufi

July 30, 2009

Rishi Majumder is mesmerised by the diverse, exotic bunch at Mumbai’s 7th Sufi and Mystic
Music Festival
Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

Konya's Whirling Dervishes

Ruhaniyat, introduced by Banyan Tree Events, as “India’s biggest Sufi and mystic music
festival” was first hosted in Mumbai seven years ago. The mystic number it celebrates with its
anniversary this year is further emphasised by its being held in seven Indian cities, enabling
rural voices from Bhakti and Sufi tradition to rise resoundingly above metropolitan murmur.
Some names, like Parvathy Baul and Kachra Khan, and genres, like the Sufi Qawwali, have
over the years become as synonymous with this festival as with great mystic music. Drawn by
the organisers from the wellspring of spirituality for the first time, here are some names and
genres that Mumbai might be less versed with.
THE WHIRLING DERVISHES, TURKEY
These Sufis hail from the Mevlevi order, founded at Konya by the followers of Jalal ad-Din
Muhammad Rumi after his death in 1273. They perform their dhikr (remembrance of Allah) in
the form of a dance and music ceremony in a format known as the Sema. The dervishes can
whirl for hours without losing balance, the ritual reflecting a man’s spiritual journey, deserting his
ego, towards the “perfect”. Instruments include the Ney, or rim-blown flute and vocals consisting
of Rumi’s poetry. Traditional attire includes a white gown (the symbol of death), a Hirka or black
cloak (the symbol of the grave) and Kulah or a hig brown cap (symbolizing the tombstone). Most
dervishes join this order during childhood, and in today’s world many of them continue ancillary
professions, amalgamating their responsibilities towards the order more as a way of life than
renunciation. Their whirling is looked upon more as prayer than performance, and though they
whirl before audiences to encourage an awareness of their philosophy, they discourage
applause.
SHRI UDAVANT AND GROUP, WARKARI SAMPRADAYAK BHAJAN PARAMPARA,
MAHARASHTRA
The Warkari tradition, a part of the Bhakti movement, is held by some historians to date back to
even before the 13th century. The saints Dnyaneshwar, Namdeo, Tukaram, Chokha Mela and
Eknath are held to be its stalwarts. Shri Udavant’s group was formed 12 years ago though he
has himself been a vital part of over 1250 Warkari programs. Their music is based on both
classical and folk forms, and their lyrics comprise of Kavya (poetry) rendered by the patron
saints — mostly in praise of their deity Vitthal, an incarnation of Vishnu. “Our organization does
not have a rigid structure,” Udavant lets in. “There are many groups in many villages who
continue to meet, exchange notes and perform.” He also says that besides “using a sound
system” and some minor improvisation in the Gayaki, they largely keep the musical structure
consistent to preserve a form that is palatable to the rural ear and traditional.
JAGATRAM LALKA AND GROUP, SUFIANA MUSIC AND LOK KATHA, PUNJAB

An expert at playing the Tumbi, Jagatram Lalka’s group also uses the algoza (comprising two
flutes), the chimta (a rhythm instrument) and the dholak. It is with these that they bring to life the
legends of Heer-Ranjha, Mirza-Sahiba, Jaymal-Fatta and Shashi-Punnu. “Folk love stories by
great Sufi poets like Waaris Shah bring forth philosophy to the common man,” explains Lalka.
He exemplifies this with a common verse by Waaris Shah where Heer is likened to the soul and
Ranjha to the body, and then their departure is described. Then he says this is only the most
basic of such verses. He also observes that while the folk music they perform has immense
acceptance and relevance in rural and small town India, it is only support from the cities that will
endow their commercial viability, and hence survival.
ARASH ASADY AND GROUP, SUFIANA KALAM, IRAN

While most distinguished performers at this concert are well beyond their 40s, Arash Asady
stands out by being 28. Born and brought up in Shiraz and Tehran in Iran, he moved to India six
years ago because “I always longed to visit this land of such diverse and tolerant spirituality”. It
is whilst finishing his MCom in Pune that Asady incorporated poetry by Hafez, Rumi, Jami and
classical Persian literature into self-written compositions featuring the Iranian setar. He has
performed in Iran, Turkey and Uzbekistan, and in Goa, Delhi, Kolkata, Pune and Mumbai in
India. Taught by his grandfather at age six, he considers man as his only inspiration, refusing to
follow the style of any Sufi master for fear that his listener may be reminded of a music style
other than his own: “My music reflects simplicity and sense. When projected with feeling, this
can be far more effective than a structured and complex composition.”

Arash Asady (L) and Damaund Parshi (R) from Iran

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: ​http://alturl.com/452r

Posted in ​History​, ​Music​, ​Profile​, ​Religion​ | ​Leave a Comment »

MUMBAI IS ON THE MAP

July 29, 2009

Lonely Planet has listed our city as the place to check out in 2008 for Bollywood, fine dining and
nightlife. Rishi Majumder digs much deeper into Mumbai’s funk…
Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

An Akhada, N M Joshi Marg

Kumbharwada

Pila Haus
Bollywood flash, big-business blitz and the crushingly poor.” That’s how the Lonely Planet
website introduces Mumbai. The largest independently-owned travel guidebook publisher in the
world features our city in its Go List section as one of 30 most exciting destinations for the year
2008, and one of the top 5 places to “lose yourself” in. Then under subsections, it attempts to
capture objectively the breadth of the Bombay experience. We’ve chosen the same
sub-sections, to attempt to capture, very subjectively, its depth.
SEE

PILA HAUS, KAMATHIPURA

The name derives by bastardisation, from ‘play house’. Once renowned as the city’s
entertainment hub, this area has grown infamous today for nightlife of a different variety
altogether. Which is why we’re not touting the nightlife. We’re touting the play houses, which
have now been converted into cheap cinema halls showcasing 80′s Bollywood cinema for
tickets as cheap as Rs 12. What with multiplexes being available the world over, and the dollar
not doing too well, it might be worth a checkout? Not far from here is Naaz Theatre and building,
the canteen of which once served as a stock market for Hindi film distributors. It still services
those dealing in Bhojpuri, or B grade films, or English films dubbed in Hindi.

DHARAVI, FROM MAHIM, BANDRA, SION OR DADAR

To discover this NGO magnet, you must ask. Ask at Mahim Station for Dharavi. Ask at Dharavi
for Sakinabai Chawl — wherein lies a colony of goldsmiths; for Kumbharwada — where migrant
potters have settled and worked since long; for textile factories, for leather manufacturers, for
auto parts… uncover in what is designated Asia’s largest slum, Asia’s most magnificent
enterprises. Why should factories interest you? Because they overlap with homes, with
workspace being rented out per table.

CHINESE TEMPLE, MAZAGAON

What better way to learn about a city than from its minorities. The city’s only Chinese temple,
declared a major landmark in the area, actually comprises only two rooms at best. Yet if you
visit it in the evenings, the lighting will be simple but spectacular, reminiscent of the spirits of
Chinese sailors who started it. If you’re lucky enough to catch the Chinese New Year, with its
fireworks, the lighting will be just spectacular.

AKHADAS, N M JOSHI MARG.

Equidistant from Lower Parel and Curry Road station, this mill worker bastion still flourishes with
six or seven of the one thousand akhadas that once dotted the city. Watching office goers and
factory workers step out of their metropolitan outfits to wrestle traditionally in the mud can be a
very interesting experience, by virtue of being unlikely. Near the Girni Kaamgaar Akhada in the
same area, a 93-year-old gentleman called Netaji Palkar lives and teaches fighting with ancient
weapons
(including the battle axe) for only Rs 10 a month. Why? Find out.

EAT

NOOR MOHAMMADI AND SHALIMAR, MOHAMMED ALI ROAD

Old restaurants serving the city’s most authentic Moghlai fare. Noor Mohammadi, frequented
regularly by film star Sanjay Dutt, has a chicken dish prepared as per his recipe — called ‘Sanju
Baba’. If you sit in the non-family section you’ll hear the following exchange repeatedly: “Ek
Sanju Baba Dena.” “Ek Sanju Baba Jaldi.” “Ek Sanju Baba Tayar!”
Shalimar has special rooms, where one can sit cross-legged on mattresses and lean against
bolsters in an enclosure to enhance the Mughal experience.

SHOP

LAMINGTON ROAD
And why would anyone want to shop for electronics or computer ware in Mumbai? Because this
area provides you components for the same, at prices which are likely to match those at a Hong
Kong flea market.

NIGHTLIFE

MUJRA, BACHUBHAI WADI, FAARAS ROAD

Ask here for a “Mehnati Mujrawaali”. This would mean she’s trained for long in both Kathak and
classical singing. Mujra is an amalgamation of these classical forms, with added variation over
time. It is often frowned upon and likened to prostitution, but enjoying it in the right spirit will
provide you a unique experience from these exponents settled here for over many years.

NARANGI BAR, … ANYWHERE!

The Deshi Daru, if good, will knock you out for the night. If mixed with battery, it’ll knock you out
for life. Reliable names don’t remain reliable and change frequently as ownership does. So do
try to catch a regular consumer of such liquor, and ask him to recommend a place he currently
inhabits. If possible, take him with you and ask him to raise the toast.

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: ​http://alturl.com/abbi

Posted in ​Dance​, ​Dharavi​, H
​ istory​, ​Kamathipura​, ​Mohammad Ali Road​, ​Sport​, ​Travel​ | ​2
Comments »

Hindu Gods from Karachi

July 29, 2009

Rishi Majumder and Santosh Mishra discover a place of worship in Mulund where the prominent
idols were shipped from Pakistan. It continues to draw devotees from the neighbouring country
Photographer: Deepak Turbhekar

The Maruti Mandir near Mulund station bustles like any temple situated near a busy station
and in an even busier marketplace. It is swamped with crowds during the Hindu month of
Saawan, and during festivals like Shivratri, Govinda, Ganpati, Navratri and Diwali. Originating
from a supposedly swayam prakat hanuman moorti (a statue whose features were as per
legend, outlined on stone, not by man, but by natural elements) the temple has spread to
approximately 700 square feet of enclosed space and sprung a carved pyramidal dome, just as
the hamlet shed its cocoon and emerged a north-eastern suburb, boasting multiplexes, malls
and skyscrapers. What is not known here is that in this sacred sanctorum lie two old statues and
a Shivling which trace their origin to Pakistan. Lesser known is the real connection between
these subjects of worship and their official address: Ganatra Chowk, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel
Marg.
The statues of Laxmi and Narayan, together as always and splendidly dressed in ornaments
and colourful garments, have been sculpted from marble in the style of the traditional Jaipur
school. The Shivling is encased in silver, both for conservation and adornment. Engraved
marble plaques lie in between the statues and the shivling citing their original location, names of
those whose possession they were in before, and those who’ve contributed to their
maintenance since. Belonging to a famous temple in Karachi, they were removed in the event of
partition and communal violence subsequently. They were shipped across and lay for months
unattended in a storage godown at the Bombay Docks. Then, freedom fighter Ganatra who was
informed about the statues asked Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel to help in overriding red tape with
the dock authorities to release them, telling Patel he had found a suitable spot at which to have
them reinstituted.
”And so this temple, on Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel Road, at Ganatra Chowk, is held by many to
have blessed the area of Mulund as a whole, not just individual residents,” says Ratan Maharaj,
a priest herein. “So, besides granting personal wishes, it has also led to the area’s rapid
development.” The temple is supposedly maintained only on what devotees slip into its donation
boxes. And it still manages to donate upto Rs 50,000 yearly, for the medicinal needs of the
impoverished. Part of the reason for this popularity, according to Ratan Maharaj, is that the
Laxmi-Narayan statues and Shivling have undergone a “double pratishtha” (been instituted
twice), hence the rituals and prayers accompanying the second institution granting them twice
their original religious potency. Old migrants from west and east Pakistan settled in this suburb
over half a century ago relate to the veracity of these symbols. Like the statues and Shivling,
they were pretty much left in the dock for long before being given a chance to redeem
themselves. And like them, they re-built their fortunes, some attaining even greater prosperity
than before. An elderly gent from Lahore, a regular visitor here, makes sense of his routine trips
here: “To some questions, only God has the answers,” he smiles, before folding his hands
towards the temple and leaving. All he can pray for, is that he won’t have to ask them again.

Ratan Maharaj

​ ttp://alturl.com/os2d
This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: h
Posted in ​Communities​, ​History​, ​Religion​ | ​Leave a Comment »

Forbidden world
July 29, 2009

Rishi Majumder and Santosh Mishra discover Hijra Gully, a lane Mumbai would stay away from
Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

Durgadevi Udyan

A Hijra Gully building, where eunuch sex workers reside

G***du Bageecha …Ananta Kaalcha Andhera Aani Soneri Kinaara
O A*** – F*****’s Park! …An eternity of darkness Lined by a golden shore.
—From G***du Bageecha, by Namdeo Dhasal, translated by Dilip Chitre.

The G***du Bageecha inspiring Dhasal’s lines is Durgadevi Udyan, located on Duncan Road. A
two-minute walk away lies Kamathipura Gully No 1, the nearest of the red light gullies. It’s called
‘ Hijra Gully’ for the specific sexual service it offers. Till 15 years ago, the park was a quick
pleasure spot for those renting hermaphrodites, eunuchs or transvestites from the gully, hence
the garden’s crude nickname. The lane’s proximity also led to community Hijra activities,
including the emasculation ritual, which makes a man nirvan or a ‘true’ Hijra, and cataract
operations for Hijras denied hospital admission. The park was then renovated, and secured by
home guards. But despite replanted greenery, children’s jungle gyms and slides, and a
woman’s-only area, no ‘decent’ citizen visits it today. It is populated only by occasional political
or activist gatherings, and frequent junky and street gambler meet-ups. The latter ensure that
the stigma imposed by its erstwhile occupants remains.
Hijra Gully, like any red light area, changes from surreal shades of blue, green and red at night
to grey poor-locality-drabness during daylight. The Hijras live in a decrepit but vast four storey
building, with a gigantic blue tarpaulin veiling slow repair work in one wing. Each Hijra belongs
to a Gharana and a Guru, photographs of whom are framed and given pride of place in their
rooms. The make-up and stylised glances of these portraits resemble a ’60s Bollywood
heroine’s. ‘Zeenat Aapa’ is one such Guru, who, bedecked in orange chiffon and ornate gold for
a function, might pass off for a heroine if captured on film reel. Hailing from the Poonawaala
Gharana, she came from Hyderabad 17 years ago. Treated with respect by most Hijras, she has
allied with many social work organisations (Humsafar Trust, DAI Welfare Society) and political
parties but is too disillusioned to join any. She talks in between answering phone calls regarding
a man in love with her, who’s telling everyone from the local police inspector to the local don
that they’re married. “I only remember him creating a ruckus, and us throwing him out,” she
replies patiently. “That doesn’t make me his wife.”
“We’ve received support from political parties like the Congress and Shiv Sena,” Zeenat begins,
her gaze intent, intelligent and judging. “But old issues continue to haunt.” The root issue being
a continuing social boycott, which means that no one will give Hijras jobs, or do business with
them, leaving two recourses: prostitution and begging. “And prostitution too is now waning,” she
continues. With Kamathipura being a publicised red light area, once regular clients are now
scared to be seen here. An older problem compounds this one: policemen harassing prostitutes
standing on the road, to only claim higher hafta. “I’ve retired,” Zeenat finishes, her lips hinting at
a smile. “But I worry for the others.”
Dhasal, a dalit activist, indicates a broader meaning to ‘untouchable’ when speaking of
Kamathipura as his “do number ki duniya” because of the way society regards it. This urban
untouchability is categorised by poverty and prostitution. The Hijra’s untouchability is
categorised also by sexuality, which can be traced to the beginnings of British rule. During
earlier periods of Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim rule, the Hijras were treated with respect, given
positions of official power and included in mainstream life. The proportion of Hijras in prostitution
was more or less the same as that of women, or even men. The British labelled them as
‘sodomisers’, banishing them from society, as was done with transgenders in the West. And
Indians who parroted such ‘modern western thoughts’ changed attitudes accordingly. Still, a
Hijra being called ‘Chakka’ isn’t different from an Indian being called ‘blackie’, or ‘wog’, while
being kicked out of train compartments, clubs and jobs.
We fell united by our untouchability then, as we stand divided by it today.
This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: ​ ​http://alturl.com/r8px
Posted in ​Caste​, ​Communities​, ​Crime​, ​Kamathipura​, ​Organisations​ | ​Leave a Comment »
GUZZLING WITH GHAZALS
July 29, 2009

Rishi Majumder and Santosh Mishra

spend a night with a family of folk, ghazal and classical singers who have found an unlikely
audience in orchestra bar customers
Photographer: Raju Shinde

The Pawars with son Sanjay...

Yunhi Pehlu Mein Baithe Raho,
Aaj Jaane Ki Zid Naa Karo,
Haye Mar Jaayenge,
Hum To Lut Jaayenge,
Aisi Baatein… THUD!
A table tumbles over as an inebriated rotund customer stumbles across to leave the orchestra
bar (once a dance bar). He doesn’t like the fact that the buxom bar girls crooning item numbers
have given up the stage to a short bespectacled man and his conservatively dressed wife,
who’re more concerned with the undertone of Farida Khanum’s classical Khayal than with that
of pelvic gyrations. But two other customers prod the singers on, with wah-wahs uttered to
equally loud thigh thumps. Anil and Naina Pawar continue. Their son Sanjay, playing the
keyboard behind them, carefully compliments the undertone.
Pawar learnt Marathi folk or Bhav Geet from his uncle when in school. Then, he worked with
groups like Geet Sadhna and Melody Rhythm, which performed folk and popular Hindi film hits,
to finally perform solo at age 27. His wife Naina was inducted into Indian classical music at age
five, by her mother’s ustad. She rendered her first ghazal when she had but completed her 1st
standard. Her training under many ustads includes a two-month period with Ustad Allah Rakha
Khan. Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, who had once performed in a hall next to hers, came to
hear her and later commended her.
They met while performing at a Pali Hill restaurant. “I’d decided earlier on I’d marry a singer,
so he could understand my career and support it,” says Naina. Pawar, in turn, found in Naina
his guru, and voraciously absorbed Indian classical and ghazal nuances.
But attempts to land a record or movie music contract, remained thwarted throughout. “I
waited for long hours outside Gulshan Kumar’s office, after which I was only allowed to leave
my cassette there,” Pawar narrates. “After such experiences we decided not to approach
anyone anymore but continue singing on available platforms. If someone had to launch us, they
would see us there and decide for themselves.” So they served ghazal nights at Holiday Inn,
The Club and Hotel Ashoka. Appreciation followed from people like Jagjit Singh and Pankaj
Udhas, and Pawar also got an opportunity to perform abroad. Slowly however the demand for
ghazals in the leisure industry withered. With big hotels and bigger budgets conquering the
recreation scene, those that held such shows started featuring only established names from
across the country and globe, running over small time musicians. And so it happened, that the
couple sought solace for their refined voices in a Bhayender orchestra bar.
Two heavily made up bar girls replace the couple on the floor, rendering in terrible tones ‘Yeh
Mera Dil Pyaar Ka Deewana’ from Don. They sway slightly, smiling at particularly fond patrons,
occasionally walking up to them to express counter fondness. The next Himesh Reshammiya
number is a duet between Pawar and one of these girls, which is a challenge because he has to
keep bringing her back into tune. This doesn’t prevent one particularly drunken customer from
appointing himself Pawar’s alter ego, standing up to lip sync his words while unleashing a
complex gamut of Rajesh Khanna mannerisms. With the song ending and Pawar going solo
with
‘Duniya Banaane Waale, Kya Tune Duniya Banaayee’ from Teesri Manzil, the man continues
mouthing the words, now slumping back in his chair to reflect weepily on it’s lyrics.
”We have unexpectedly found a large audience in orchestra bars for ghazals and classical
music,” Naina remarks. “The ratio of these to those who prefer pop is actually about 50-50.” So,
at the three bars the family has been contracted in yet, the owners have alternated the two
genres proportionately.
The family resides in a small simply furnished flat. It converts this into its “retreat from
mainstream music” on weekends by rehearsing classical recitals. The clock, one of the few
living room adornments, displays, “3 am”. “This is the time we usually get back from work,” they
tell us. Pawar, who’s taken up an office job to make ends meet, leaves for work at seven in the
morning. He catches up on sleep on train and bus. “A doctor told me once, that as long as you
can sing, you’ll live,” Pawar grins. “So that’s my only health guideline. I originally took to music
on seeing the respect legends like Pankaj Udhas accorded my parents,” adds Sanjay, who
taught himself the keyboard and drum pad to join the orchestra. “But now, I’m trying to
understand it as an end in itself.”

Anil Pawar

​ ttp://alturl.com/yb43
This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: h
Posted in ​Music​, ​Profile​ | ​Leave a Comment »

THE LORD AND HIS MAKERS

July 29, 2009

Rishi Majumder hangs out with murtikaars, Mumbai’s traditional idol makers, to get the lowdown
on the trade (and the faith that comes with it)
Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

Anna Shetge - who chose professional Ganpati making after losing his job during the 80's Mill
Movement
“First, a tall iron pole. Then iron rods are welded to shape a skeleton, keeping the centre of
gravity intact. Grass is stuffed and tied with rope and bamboo. Plaster, rope and kathya (string
derived from coconut shell) is used to give further shape. Then patchwork using POP (Plaster
Of Paris), rolled out almost like chapattis. This is 50%. A second POP coating balances body
contours. Knowledge of human anatomy is required for this. A third thin coating of POP is
scraped and leveled to begin the ‘finishing’ process, up to the raised curve of each eyebrow.
Then oil paint, primer and colour… finer shading… and a final finish for the final look.”
— The making of the Ganesh Gully Ganpati idol,
​the city’s tallest, described by its makers.

Gajanan Tondalkar, Mumbai Murtikaar Sangh President, at his Parel workshop

Gana:​ Group, category, class, community, association, corporation.

Pati: ​Lord
Ganapati:​ Lord of ‘the order’.
— Definitions cited from various dictionaries

Rajan Vitthaljad at his Parel workstation

In 1893, Lokmanya Tilak took the annual Ganapati festival from private family celebrations to
public gatherings, to bridge the gap between Brahmins and non-Brahmins and build a
grassroots unity. The festival served “as a rallying point for Indian protest against British rule”.
By the 1970s and early 80′s, the festival was celebrated most in the Dadar, Lalbaug and Parel
areas. A primary reason: the vast population present, comprising mill workers. The trend of giant
idols caught on, almost simultaneously, with the Mill Worker’s Movement, both serving as
rallying points for workers of every caste, region and even religion. Not so far back in 1996, the
God of good beginnings blessed another order, formed in 1992, to be registered thus:
Brihanmumbai Ganesh Murtikaar Sangh.
“Murtikaars (idol makers) were being exploited by businessmen, not given facilities by the
government, and yet held to ransom by customers,” Gajanan Tondwalkar, current president,
recounts. Born out of miniscule meetings, the organization expanded as news of results
achieved (especially vis-a-vis the BMC) spread. Results like getting electricity connections on a
priority basis, which otherwise a murtikaar would get only by the time the festival was over,
courtesy red tapism.
“Today, a major concern is of the trade being flooded by businessmen who concentrate on
quantity rather than quality. This will be addressed by petitioning the government for a training
facility,” says Rajan Jhad, a third generation murtikaar and treasurer of the Sangh. This facility
will ensure a quality of craftsmanship in the next generation’s trade. The Sangh also intends to
plead for a role in the selection process for the Ganpati Prizes doled out by the BMC. “This is to
ensure that the judges appointed are qualified to gauge such a specific art, and avoid partiality,”
Tondalkar explains. Other smart moves include inviting sponsorship from companies producing
the oils, paints and POP that the murtikaars use in return for advertisement, keeping donations
and subscriptions in a Murtikaar’s Emergency Fund as an insurance against accidents or
business mishaps, and vying for handicrafts initiatives launched by the centre or state
government so as to provide seasonal Murtikaars with year-long employment in the profession.
Ratnakar Kamblee - maker of Lalbaghcha Raja. Enough said.
“The most vital issue confronting us is the proposed POP ban,” says Shashikant Bagwe, the
eldest of three brothers who have been making the Ganesh Gully Ganpatis for some time now.
POP, enables a murtikaar to make 30 idols in a day, whereas natural clay would take 3 days for
a single idol. This is in addition to the fact that the latter is far more expensive and breakable.
And finally lies the issue of land: “If we don’t get BMC permission and land for the mandaps
(shed for making the idols) in time, we can’t deliver in time for the festival,” Tondalkar states
simply, adding that while June was when they should have ideally gotten their mandaps up by
this year, they weren’t able to do so till July end.
But while what they have been and are fighting for is significant, the most fascinating aspect of
the order is its ethnic composition. Most of the murtikaars hail from the Konkan region, where
many mill workers came from too. “I was a mill worker, and worked as a Murtikaar only during
the festival in my village,” says Anna Shetge, a senior member of the Sangh. “After the mill
workers’ strike in 1982, we were left suddenly with nothing. And I turned my hobby into my
profession.” Despite the strike’s fallout, Shetge speaks in support of its leader Datta Samant,
holding on to a communist ideal as he does to his god. The Sangh has among its members a
Muslim and a Christian. Such integration is best enumerated by Tondalkar in describing the
Ganesh Gully idol’s most essential feature (he too has been its crafter): “Not one part of the idol
is made separately. It is all built at one time, in one place. But the centre of gravity should stay
intact.”
This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India: ​http://alturl.com/p4sb 
Posted in ​Art​, ​Communities​, ​History​, O
​ rganisations​, ​Religion​ | ​Leave a Comment »

Bhendi Bazaar blues

July 28, 2009

Rishi Majumder discovers the Bhendi Bazaar Gharana, Mumbai’s homegrown haven of
classical Indian music
Photographer: Rana Chakraborty
Shubha Joshi
Gharanas, using the guru-shishya system to maintain musical ideology since time
immemorial, acquired a new significance in the 19th century. Dwindling royal patronage forced
musicians to migrate to urban centres; the names of our gharanas (Agra Gharana, Gwalior
Gharana, Patiala Gharana, Indore Gharana etc) mark the identity of not only their music, but the
hometown from which this music emerged. Yet while most gharanas are named after where
their musicians migrated from, the Bhendi Bazaar Gharana, Mumbai’s only native classical
music gharana, stands out for being named after where musicians migrated to.

Meenaxi Mukherji
The din of South Bombay (then Bombay City) was interrupted with music in 1870, when three
brothers – Chajju Khan, Nazir Khan and Khadim Hussain Khan – left Bijnaur in Moradabad
District, UP, to live with their brother, a merchant. Having trained under their father Dilawar
Khan, they continued to learn: Dhrupad Damar Gayaki from Inayat Hussain Khan of Sahaswan
Gharana. By 1890, their music had touched many a heart.
 While some called their style the Moradabad Gharana, the brothers being dubbed “Bhendi
Bazaar Waale” by music-loving citizens, led to a re-christening. Some say the brothers didn’t
stay in “Bhendi Bazaar” at all but in a residential area known as ‘behind the bazaar’, a phrase
corrupted by local colloquialism to eventually become “Bhendi Bazaar”, thus giving the Gharana
(and area?) its current moniker.
The Bhendi Bazaar Gharana won acclaim through its second generation. One important name
from this generation is Aman Ali Khan (Chajju Khan’s son) whose popularity in the 1940s led to
the gharana’s gayaki (singing style) often being called Aman Ali Khan Gayaki. Another is
Anjanibai Malpekar (who taught Kishori Amolkar) whose performances won the gharana
nationwide recognition, even at a time when female singers were frowned upon by society.
Stalwarts from the third generation (most of them have passed away) include Shiv Kumar
Shukla, Pandurang Amberkar, Master Navrang, Ramesh Nadkarni and TD Janorikar. We’ve
spoken to the current generation, which came after this.

Shaila Piplapure
While some critics claim the bandishes (compositions) of the gharana bear a resemblance to
the Gwalior Gharana, the originality of its singing technique stands universally acclaimed,
especially its improvisation with Meerkhand Gayaki, involving an intricate weaving of laya
(rhythmic tonal pattern) and taana (sequences in fast tempo). “Our rendition of the laya
resembles a wave,” explains exponent Shaila Piplapure, as opposed to a staccato. Another
distinctive feature is the presentation of khayal (the rendition of a poem without accompaniment,
followed by improvisations on the phrases). Sung in an open voice with the aakaar, it demands
immense breath control. “There’s a lot of stress on pronunciation,” says Shubha Joshi, another
renowned artist from the gharana. Joshi adds that the improvisation lent the students a
versatility to adapt to semi-classical or even Hindi film music. While many of the gharana’s
exponents have sung playback for the movies, the soundest testaments to this observation are
Lata Mangeshkar and Manna Dey, who’ve trained under Aman Ali Khan. “Two significant
achievements of the Bhendi Bazaar gharana are the inclusion of Carnatic ragas and the
improvement it inspired in Hindu devotional music composition,” says renowned vocalist
Meenaxi Mukherji.
The question of continuity, foxing many a gharana today, sounds particularly ominous here.
Why? Its stalwarts have often refrained from public performances, thus leaving the gharana
largely unpublicised. Some have had the misfortune of an untimely death (Aman Ali Khan for
one), leaving behind fewer disciples than the other gharanas. There is an organised effort by
these disciples. Suhasini Kolatkar, for instance, has besides singing, taught, organized annual
conferences and documented the gharana’s history. Piplapure and Joshi have taught too, and
are willing to do so again. “Patience” however, is what every guru of today finds lacking in his or
her shishya of generation next. Tradition demands that a disciple stay at his mentor’s house and
give 10 to 12 years to be able to master this art enough to evolve it. But while the women in the
profession often have to re-prioritize their career plans to look after spouse and child, the men
have to do the same to be able to earn for their spouses and children. “Giving too many singing
lessons ruins the teacher’s voice. Many talented male singers have sacrificed their vocal health
to make ends meet,” says
Joshi, a lady who has chosen to remain unmarried so
that she may be able to dedicate her life solely to music.
But not everyone is like her. The same ‘patience’ is lacking in today’s young listener, who has
little time to cultivate a taste in music whose spiritual significance he cannot comprehend. While
CDs of this music do today travel as far as France, this makes one wonder where the sales of
this gharana’s music (and that of the others) will lie tomorrow. ‘Amar’ ironically was the pen
name Aman Ali Khan used while composing his bandishes. Sadly compositions, even those
created by a genius, cannot survive by themselves. Classical music needs a culture of singers
and patrons to keep its impressive reservoir of music immortal. But India as they say is moving
fast, to say nothing of our overheated metropolis.

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India:   h

​ ttp://alturl.com/ox7m

Posted in ​Crusaders​, ​History​, ​Mohammad Ali Road​, ​Music​, ​Profile​ | ​4 Comments »

A GOOD JUDGE OF JAZZ

July 28, 2009

Rishi Majumder finds Jude Valladares whose love affair with jazz has made him an impressive
encyclopedia on America’s most celebrated (and indigenous) musical art form
Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

Jude Valladares in his living room, his passion strewn around him...
Artie Shaw’s rhythm wriggles past the shut entrance door of Jude Valladares’s Pali Naka
apartment, a backlit silhouette beckoning passersby to ring the bell. Inside, sunlight gushes
through large windows on either side illuminating the simple sitting room’s only distinct
characters: a sideboard altar, with a large picture of Mary and Jesus, and a mini desk with a
turntable — playing Shaw, playing his clarinet. A low settee and centre table are covered with
jazz records from Valladares’s 500 odd collection, books on jazz, jazz magazines, jazz
photographs, and record covers — one autographed by the great alto saxophonist Charlie
Mariano.
Valladares, a thin bespectacled man with a sharp moustache, has opened the door
perfunctorily, before turning back to his turntable, eyes half closed, head subtly swaying.
Rhythm is essential to jazz, which otherwise belies structure, and Valladares, referred to by jazz
aficionados in the city as a ‘jazz encyclopedia’, doesn’t want to lose his.
”The pre jazz era comprised work songs, rural blues, gospel songs, spirituals, classic woman
blues, urban blues…” he begins. Valladares then explains ragtime and early jazz, the Chicago
’20s, ’30s swing, bebop, Woody Herman, Dizzy Gillespie’s Afro Cuban, West Coast avant
garde, East Coast free style, cool jazz, European jazz, new wave and fusion to wind up with
jazz rock and funk of the ’70s and ’80s. He breaks only to play records and CDs demonstrating
the style nuances he speaks of.
Valladares discovered jazz in 1963 in a Lonavla movie theatre: “Red Nichols’ Three Blind
Mice And Backroom Blues in the film 5 Pennies.” Today, he calls it his “first wife”. His reasons
for preferring this genre are the same as that of most jazz loyals: “You can’t listen to a pop song
over and over again like you can do with bebop. And classical music doesn’t allow for as much
experimentation.”
The Music Goes Round And Round by McCoy plays, followed by Ben Webster’s Danny Boy,
George Benson and The Big Boss Band rendering Skylark, T Monk’s Epistrophy… Valladares
insists on a different kind of jazz for each time of the day “like the ragas”. He recounts tales of
legendary greatness like guitarist Django Reinhardt’s comeback despite two paralyzed fingers,
the near blind genius Art Tatum, Stan Kenton co-ordinating 44 musicians, Maynard Ferguson
lending his name to the MF Horn albums and Glenn Miller composing the Moonlight Serenade
across a coffee table in 15 minutes. Valladares hasn’t traveled much, but his listening to and
studying over ten decades of America’s most venerated musical art form transports the faded
sofa he reclines on to Kansas City’s Sunset Café or a New Orleans jazz fest at will. Jazz music,
which was born as the only expression of an oppressed, mangled African-American community
and later amalgamated and adapted by most countries, has found yet another home.
In these tech-savvy times when everyone resorts to internet downloads or Google searches to
assimilate such a repertoire, Valladares’s knowledge and music stands out for having been
cherry picked arduously — one book, an image, a magazine and a record at a time. Yet, he
never mentions using this understanding as a lecturer or a businessman would. While changing
a vinyl yet again, he says: “Just as food and drink feed my body, I need this music to feed my
soul.” Valladares’s road to redemption, like any, is an extremely personal choice, except for one
necessary commonality — its length.

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India:  h​ ttp://alturl.com/ndft 

 
Posted in ​Collecting​, ​Music​, P
​ rofile​ | ​Leave a Comment »

AN OLD MELODY
July 28, 2009

Rishi Majumder listens in on Firoze Hirjikaka’s stupendous collections of classics

Photographer: Rana Chakraborty

Feroze Hirjikaka... laying bare his treasures...

Firoze Hirjikaka’s lengthy bio data ends with the fact that he wants to host his own radio show,
based solely on his personal music collection. “The programme would alternate between swing,
standards and easy listening,” he says, sifting through old records arranged at the centre of his
spacious Colaba living room. “There’ll be specials on the music of musicals, and greats like
George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Elvis Presley…” Hirjikaka complains that the idea of “oldies” on
radio channels and music store racks is restricted to music of the ’80s and late ’70s. “As a
result, much popular music of yore is dismissed by today’s generation without actual
exploration,” he reasons. While his collection of over 1500 records and CDs (featuring releases
from the 1920s down to the 1970s) includes classical music in its repertoire, Hirjikaka wishes to
focus on ‘popular classics’: “I can understand the youth not taking to classical. I didn’t either
when I was their age.” But the notes of pop down the ages, he feels, were always composed for
the youth, and would continue to strum their heartstrings.
‘I wanna be loved by you’, by Eydie Gorme plays. He has placed on his turntable a record
whose label reads: “Eydie Gorme. Vamps. The Roaring ’20s. Orchestra conducted by Don
Costa.” “I had a 78 rpm turntable first,” he recounts. “Then a Philips radiogram. Then an LP
record player.” Hirjikaka’s first record was The Donkey Serenade by Alan Georges, bought at
the age of 10 in 1955: “And I first heard Georges in a Marx Brothers movie, if you’ve heard of
them…” His passion for music grew through school and college to London, where he obtained
his engineering masters. “There was only more music available,” he smiles in remembrance.
And so listening to a favourite record became a prerequisite to tackling technological theorems.
By the time this technocrat was well entrenched in his job, his hobby became an addiction
demanding a CD per month. “That my job necessitated a lot of travelling only helped,” he adds,
while playing a record of Elvis’s Moody Blue: ‘Way down where the music plays, Way down like
a tidal wave, Way down where the fires blaze.’
The words rock their way around the room with Presley’s guitar. “We old guys still believe CDs
can’t match LP sound quality,” he affirms. “But the next turntable will be hard to find, as will the
wherewithal to maintain the records.” And so he’s converting his records into CDs for
preservation. The record, as if on cue, screeches here.
”I listen to modern releases like Celine Dion or Mariah Carey too,” Hirjikaka mentions. “But I
need a melody to hum. Heavy metal, hard rock and rap can’t give me that.” That’s also a reason
he hasn’t particularly pursued jazz: “It’s more improvisation than fixed melody. Like classical
music, it’s an acquired taste.” He emphasises, though, that he’s not for any kind of policing
where new songs or lyrics are concerned. He recalls how Presley’s hip-shaking caused him to
be shot only from the waist up.
With ‘I got Rhythm’ composed by George Gershwin and re-rendered by Robert Palmer,
Hirjikaka’s composed face breaks into a grin. “I mean, this could be playing in a disco right?” he
asks of his favourite composer’s rhythmic foot tapper. A rare ’30s Janet Mc-Donald and Elson
Eddie musical record and some ’50s Dean Martin and Gordon Jenkins are passed over for…
swing. “The Big Bands…” he informs, as the grin grows wider. ‘I just got word from a guy who
heard, From the guy next door to me, The girl he met just loves to pet, And it fits you to a T…’
swings in with guitar and piano from ‘Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree’ by the Glenn Miller
Orchestra. “That’s fast swing. And it’s not just for the old,” he stresses. So do the lyrics: ‘Don’t
hold anyone on your knee, you’re getting the third degree…’ Swing incidentally is a form of jazz,
distinguished only by a strong rhythm section. Still, someone give this man the show.
This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, Times Of India:  h​ ttp://alturl.com/kvfq 
Posted in ​Collecting​, ​Music​, P
​ rofile​ | ​Leave a Comment »

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