When Ustad Bundu Khan Forgot His Ablutions


Pandit Nayan Ghosh 

This predates India’s pre-Independence days when Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, the court musician of Maharaja Umaid Singh of Jodhpur, had organized a big music festival. Most renowned musicians of the country were in attendance, including Ustad Faiyaz Khan and the great Maihar Baba, Ustad Allauddin Khan. My father, tabla maestro, Pandit Nikhil Ghosh and my paternal uncle, Pandit Pannalal Ghosh were also invited. My father was extremely close to S D Burman (or Burman jethu, as we addressed him) from the time he had started making a mark as a folk and semi-classical singer.

During the music festival, large, ornate tents were laid out within the huge quadrangle of Jodhpur palace (later renamed as Umaid Bhawan), for the musicians to stay. Very often, musicians rehearsing in adjacent tents could hear each other and the entire atmosphere would be suffused with several voices and instruments reaching a crescendo.

It was the day of S D Burman’s performance, and he’d requested my father to come to his tent during rehearsals. Burman jethu was playing the harmonium, while my father accompanied him on the tabla. Many songs were sung that day, and amongst others, ‘Allah megh de, pani de,’ a folk song from East Bengal. As the day progressed, this rehearsal session soon turned into a jam session, as my uncle, who could hear the music sitting in his tent, joined them with his flute; Ustad Ahmed Jan Thirakwa, the legendary tabla player, also my father’s guru, began playing the tabla, and soon the room reverberated with music that perhaps should have been recorded for posterity.

It was around midday when Ustad Bundu Khan, acknowledged as one of the greatest sarangi players in the subcontinent, was seen heading for his daily ablutions with a lota in hand. Tents those days did not come with the luxury of an attached toilet, and the bathroom was at the far end of the rows of tents in the quadrangle of the palace grounds.

While the Ustad was briskly walking towards his destination, he suddenly heard S D Burman singing in his velvety, high pitched voice, and was instantly mesmerized. He entered Burman jethu’s tent and while expressing great admiration, placed the lota on the ground, forgot all about his visit to the bathroom and went back to his tent to fetch his sarangi! In a moment, S D Burman’s tent had turned into a veritable stage of India’s greatest performers, when suddenly the clock struck four and Burman jethu realised that he had to perform in the evening.

This fabulous story of how musicians those days forgot everything else due to their devotion to music does not merely end here.

After the musical performances for the evening had come to an end, it was close to midnight and the musicians were being dropped back to their respective tents in a car. Ustad Bundu Khan, my father, and my uncle were the last to leave the auditorium.

Suddenly, Bundu Khan sat down on the footpath in front of the auditorium, and began playing the same song sung by SD Burman that afternoon – ‘Allah megh de, pani de…’ There couldn’t have been a better testimony than this – a tribute by a great musician to another, called Sachin Dev Burman.

(From the Introduction to S D Burman: The Prince-Musician, by Anirudha Bhattacharjee & Balaji Vittal, Tranquebar)

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Courtesy: Times of India: The speaking tree:  11 Aug 2018