A maestro is one who has perfected the established techniques and aspects of music. But what do you call someone who gives music a new identity altogether and join the ranks of Mozart, Baray Ghulam Ali Khan, Amir Khan, Ahmad Jan Thirikwa or Vilayat Khan. Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma is the latest addition to the list of such immortal legends. The father of the santoor (a trapezoid-shaped hammered dulcimer, a variation of the Iranian santoor), passed away on May 10 at the age of 84.

I was introduced to Pandit Shivji’s music by Adnan Sami Khan. The latter was so influenced by him that he had set the tone/pitch of his electric piano to that of his santoor, memorised Shivji’s music by rote and performed it in concerts.

At that time, there was no YouTube. Not a single music shop in Islamabad had Shivji’s music. When my boss and friend Dr Tariq Banuri visited Mumbai to attend a conference, he brought back an audio cassette: a Music Today production that had Bhopal Todi and Kirwani of Shivji. This was in the early ’90s and I’m still listening to it. Whenever I play it, I feel I’ve never listened to it before. There’s always something new to discover every time. Such is the beauty of music made by legends — always fresh even in recordings.

Shivji chose an instrument that was highly unsuitable for rendering ragas. It was almost like the piano. Ornamentation such as meedh , gamak, taan and murki (which the sarangi, sitar and sarod could have demonstrated) were out of the question. And it is these subtle expressions of notes which make our music entirely different and more beautiful from that of the West. Moreover, the santoor would be put on a tripod and, when struck by mallets, its strings would create noise.

The soft-spoken and straightforward Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma, who passed away on May 10, was not only a nonpareil santoor player but also a vocalist, tabla maestro and composer

Like Vilayat Khan, Shivji redesigned the instrument: changed its size and used strings of different numbers and gauges. He increased the number of bridges from 25 to 31 and reduced the number of strings from 100 to 89. He also selected the wood used to make the mallets.

Instead of installing the santoor on a tripod, he placed it in his lap. He could have plucked the strings of santoor with his fingers — like the sitar or the sarod — to create meendhs (glides) but then it would not remain the santoor. Santoor must be struck with a mallet and yet produce meendhs. So, instead of striking the strings, he rubbed them gently with the mallet and produced the tonal effects of gamak, taan and meendh. His detractors never recognised such tonal affects as meendh or gamak. Yet, he was one of the most successful and sought-after musicians.

Our classical music is not found in the written form. This means it has infinite room for improvisation. Therefore, an instrumentalist or vocalist must be an extempore composer on stage. And Shivji was outstanding. He could have played a raga for hours and hours without repeating any phrase. I have a dozens of his kirwanis and bageshris played at different places and times; all of them are different, yet in essence all are kirwani and bageshri.

Shivji was not just a santoor player. He was a vocalist, tablist and a composer. How good he was as a tabla player? He had accompanied Pandit Ravi Shankar on the tabla. Anybody who knows music knows how difficult it was to provide Ravi Shankar with tabla accompaniment.

Shivji, together with the flutist Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia, gave Bollywood some amazing songs. The duo composed music for Yash Chopra’s Silsila (1981) and Chandni (1989).

Once I asked Ustad Shahid Parvez (a very fine laikaar in sitar music) who was the best laikaar in his opinion. He singled out Zakir Hussain (tabla), Birju Maharaj (Kathak dancer) and Shiv Kumar Sharma. Talking over the phone the other day, Shahid (who was very close to the santoor legend) said: “When we hear the name Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma, the santoor comes instantly to mind. An artist can create a relation with his instrument only after conquering it. Shivji had complete control over his instrument. He did everything on the santoor and he could have done anything on it. He demonstrated every aspect of classical music on the santoor which had many limitations. This is not an ordinary achievement. He has made his name in history. The santoor can’t be discussed without him. An instrument such as the santoor is ideal for rhythm. That’s why Shivji concentrated on lai and rhythm. He opted for a very neat and clean laikaari that matched with the instrument. I was influenced by his laikaari to a significant level. And I have admitted several times that I have incorporated his laikaari into my sitar in my own way. Shivji was a very soft-spoken and straightforward man, very sincere in teaching music and generous in encouraging his juniors. His name will live forever.”

Since Shivji’s hallmark was rhythm, a very fine tabla player could have done justice to his music. Almost every great name in tabla accompanied him but his best came out whenever he was with Zakir Hussain. It seemed God had created him for Shivji. When he played with Shivji the audience would be doubled in number and half the hall would consist of Zakir’s fans.

Shivji loved Zakir so much that he would visit his house at Malabar Hill, pick up his table, then drive to his school, pick him up and take him to the concert hall.

At one stage, Zakir became very busy. Shivji then chose the late Ustad Shafaat Ahmad Khan of the Delhi gharana. Shafaat once said to me that he can accompany anybody with ease but he finds it very challenging to play with Shivji.

And what a tribute Shivji paid to Zakir. In an interview, he said he would inform the tabla players in advance of the rhythmic cycle (taal) he would play but with Zakir he could have chosen any complex taal on stage without telling him, and Zakir would pick it up. If he did the same with others, they would think Shivji was trying to expose their weakness and demean them.

Shivji was a recipient of the Padma Shri award as well as the Padma Vibhushan awards. He remained active until his death. His music will be carried forward by his son Rahul Sharma — an ideal example of ‘like father, like son’.

The writer is based in Islamabad. He is a journalist and student of tabla and vocal music. He can be reached at yamankalyan@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, May 29th, 2022