Walking up to that room on the second floor of the Triveni Kala Sangam was definitely something I looked forward to with great earnest every week.
The way up was filled with sounds of the ghungroo from a dance rehearsal, a khol player who was at it with great vigour, a quieter melodic flute in the room next door – my senses were already nourished with supplements.
And then getting into the class meant an hour or more of delicate joy. In the middle of the big room, that had interesting acoustics, Shanti ji, looking absolutely fresh in a smart saree – usually she would come straight from her swim at the Gymkhana – sat right in the centre with her harmonium. I would pull out one of the tanpuras, the accompanying percussionist would get ready with table his pull out his instrument, we would tune up, and, enter into the world of a mehfil.
Perhaps it was the genre that Shanti ji taught – the thumri-dadra and the ghazal – that I felt quite transported into a royal chamber. I think the stories that she also added into the verses she taught went into creating this mood.
Learning with her convinced me that this world of semi-classical music requires an approach that demands a passionate understanding and internalising of the emotion to say nothing of generous portion of romanticising, that makes the music and its presentation more robust and flavourful; nazakat is a very important ingredient.
One of the most remarkable things about Shanti ji was her memory.
Her enunciation of the ghazals that taught us – some of them composed by her – was phenomenal. She would barely look at the words – incidentally her notes were always in the Urdu script, in fact she probably never wrote in Hindi.
In her compositions I could clearly see the influence of her taleem with Begum Akhtar – whether it was her choice of ghazal or the way in which she folded a couplet into a semi-classical dadra. She enjoyed singing works of Mir Taqi Mir, Jigar, Momin, all the greats.
But it is also the memories that were attached to the music that made this experience so enjoyable and yet one that taught us humility.
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Her manner towards all her students was gentle and democratic. There were no hierarchies.
Everyone was taught with sincerity and equal attention. While she had a deep connect with the world of music, poetry, the tehzeeb and all of that, she had led a fairly conventional life. So while Urdu shayari was taken very seriously in class, it was peppered with an occasional conversation on the Gujarati thepla or the Sindhi kadi.
Shanti ji was the senior most disciple of the legendary Begum Akhtar. She had learnt briefly under an Ustaad of the Rampur Gharana and has been performing from a young age.
She recorded for the first time for radio in 1947 in Lahore where her family was. They came to Lucknow after Partition and she continued with her music. In 1952 n the advice of a friend at Akashvani Lucknow, she went to Begum Akhtar hoping to she could become her student.
Begum Akhtar accepted and there was no looking back. Shanti ji kept alive this impeccable and unusual legacy of Begum Akhtar alive for over five decades through her own performances and teaching the likes of us.
Her life was devoted to this gayaki, and she was perhaps the last invaluable connect to the world of Begum Akhtar.
Her passing away marks the end of an era, of a tradition and of a legacy.
My pranams and gratitude to her for all that she preserved, nurtured and shared with generosity.
Vidya Shah, is a Delhi based musician and was a student of Shanti Hiranand.