‘The Secret Master’: A fine critique of a music ecosystem that rewards showmanship over substance

Why do Hindustani classical musicians of middling talent hog India’s mainstream when more meritorious names get relegated to the margins? Why does popular acclaim often evade the sincerest practitioners of this art, even as those indulging in packaged theatrics reap rich rewards? Is it down merely to “naseeb” – destiny – or are there more malign systemic forces at play?

In The Secret Master: Arun Kashalkar and a Journey to the Edge of Music, journalist Sumana Ramanan unpeels these big questions, using the unsung performing career of her guru Arun Kashalkar as a springboard to launch a scathing critique of our musical ecosystem that obscures the real treasures of the tradition to the fringe while giving repeated spotlight to a limited roster of superstar musicians, often with suspect credentials.

Invisibilising talent

“Naseeb”, writes Ramanan, “is like a black box in an air crash. It needs to be opened and examined, and not accepted stoically.

Over 400 pages, the author does precisely that – forensically investigating the “invisible hand” of the market in pushing honest musicians to the brink of survival while making celebrities of those who pander to the demands of the masses.

In doing so, Ramanan courageously takes on powerful establishments and apathetic patrons; the impresarios who indulge in gaudy variety presentations under the garb of promoting khayal and even formidable cultural institutions like the National Centre for Performing Arts which, she asserts, has strikingly departed from its original mission of safeguarding India’s performing arts to instead pushing expensive Western orchestras that don’t need its stewardship.

The costs and consequences of casting aside artists who favour seriousness over showmanship are high; it endangers the very survival of khayal as a genre in its full splendour, the author argues.

Gharanas that are more palatable to today’s tastes are afforded privilege while others sit at a distinct disadvantage, the ramifications of which can be grave; compound raags, unique bandishes and stylistic idiosyncrasies lost to generic sounds that cater to the lowest common dominator.

Too much visibility for a select few also has a crowding-out effect: it makes talented practitioners invisible to sponsors and audiences alike.

Kashalkar, who blends complex Gwalior, Jaipur and Agra gayaki, received pedigreed training from celebrated gurus such as Gajananrao Joshi, Babanrao Haldankar and Ram Marathe – all incidentally ignored by the mainstream in their heyday – but only got the chance to debut at the NCPA in his 70s. His public performing career was next to non-existent and got a minor lift far too far out into his life, after newer forums such as First Edition Arts started platforming him.

Ramanan writes compellingly about the role of economic and social forces in accentuating such class and opportunity divisions among musicians.

But is neo-liberalism primarily responsible for this marginalisation of the purists? What about an “X-factor” – that indefinable, intangible star quality that makes some successful and others not? Or, for that matter, voice texture or the art of stage performance, which not every great musician with technical flourish possesses?

And what role have the cataclysmic changes in the genre over the last few decades – such as the disintegration of the guru-shishya pedagogic system, the diffusion of gharana boundaries and the domination of iconoclasts like Kumar Gandharva or Kishori Amonkar on the performing stage – played in diluting a mass appeal for the aesthetic values of orthodox gharanas?

A monk and his craft

These were the many questions that raced through my mind as I read through The Secret Master. I got answers for a few, not all. But the book’s sweeping scope resists such demands anyway.

Ramanan beautifully fuses commentary with personal memoir and music history to piece together a highly readable account of Kashalkar’s life and his singular, monk-like devotion to his craft. She also widens the canvas cavernously by delving into the histories of Khayal, its gharanas, their aesthetics and the pedagogic evolution of the tradition.

Just like the Agra and Gwalior styles that she primarily writes about, the book’s structure is wonderfully compound – it synthesises fascinating anecdotes with abstract aesthetic musings, pacing backwards and forwards through dates and time to create a narrative that comes together seamlessly.

It is hard to articulate the intricacies of one medium in another, but Ramanan is both a polished writer and a serious student of khayal and deftly articulates the stylistic and often abstract subtleties of the genre.

Students or interested readers will particularly lap up the technical passages on music, while the non-linear structure allows those less inclined to get into raag or taal grammar to skip them entirely and still enjoy the book.

Ramanan writes poignantly about Kashalkar and his sapient, fakir-like persona bereft of any bitterness at the hand dealt to him. In parts, the writing becomes excessively adulatory and the dynamic between him and his younger, more successful brother, Ulhas, gets a short shrift. Towards the end, the narrative also meanders into extraneous territory such as voice fitness.

But overall, this is a sparkling debut that displays the rigour of a seasoned journalist, the heft of an erudite music researcher and the storytelling flair of a novelist.

While essentially about Hindustani music, The Secret Master, perhaps unwittingly, also prods us to ask the more profound questions of universal value: what does it mean to pursue art when no one is looking? What is its real value beyond stage validation?

These are particularly relevant for the times we live in, characterised by the attention economy of likes, comments and dopamine hits.

The book’s protagonist stands as an antidote to these modern-day maladies and offers up lessons that resonate far beyond the realm of music as the author takes us on a journey to its very edge.

The Secret Master: Arun Kashalkar and a Journey to the Edge of Music, Sumana Ramanan, Westland.