FICTION: THE SONG OF FIFTY-SIX KNIVES
Novelist and professor Neelum Saran Gour’s fictional biography, Requiem in Raga Janki, about Allahabad’s famous singer Janki Bai Allahabadi is an impressive effort. Although a creative endeavour as opposed to a strictly academic one, the text reflects a remarkably thorough knowledge of the complex theory and history of Eastern music. This serves to enhance the story of an extraordinary woman who, decades before Lata Mangeshkar, made her indelible mark on the history of entertainment in the subcontinent.
A poetess as well as singer, Janki Bai was referred to as “Chhappan Chhurri” [56 Knives]. Although the name conjures up images of a fearsome bandit queen such as Phoolan Devi wielding equally formidable weapons, the reality of the matter is more prosaic and very unsettling. The daughter of Shiv Balak, a vendor of sweets from Benares [Varanasi], Janki was viciously attacked in her childhood by a deranged soldier. The stabbing was, fortunately, not fatal, but it left her permanently disfigured and earned her the abovementioned name. If truth be told, she herself romanticised the attack in her later years in order to add to her personal mystique.
Fate tends to compensate one for loss in mysterious ways and Janki’s family discovered that she was not simply a gifted but a truly exceptional singer. Her enterprising mother found her a tutor and moved the girl to Allahabad where Janki became the musical apprentice of a wise and exacting teacher, Hassu Khan. Eventually she became rich because of her talent and was able to buy several properties for herself, one of which was the kotha [abode of dancing girls] at which she had risen to fame.
A tribute to an exceptional doyenne of Eastern classical music
Though Gour’s plot is never hard to follow, the novel is by no means an easy read, especially since the author goes into considerable depth when commenting on the complexities of Eastern music and poetry. As many readers will undoubtedly appreciate, classical ragas or musical patterns constitute the basis of subcontinental music. What is less well-known is that Indian classical music is highly organised, almost to the point of being regimented. Traditionally, specific ragas could only be played at specific times of day (and occasionally season) for which they were designated. Thus Bhairavi is considered a morning raga, Aiman is played in the evening, Bhim Pallasi in the afternoon, Malhar during the rainy season and so on.
Concurrent to her recounting of Janki’s story, Gour takes readers on a magical journey through the history of, and the legends surrounding, classical music. The author notes how Emperor Akbar’s famed court minstrel Tansen could command several ragas and yet set himself ablaze while playing Deepak, the raga of fire; how Shah Jahan — while under the influence of music — was duped into signing something with which he did not agree; how a singer tossed her nose-ring into a well and then sang Malhar until it rained so much that the well filled up and the nose-ring could be retrieved.
Part of Gour’s undeniable talent lies in how she successfully immerses the reader into the theory of music to a point where it becomes virtually impossible for one not to empathise with Hassu Khan and Janki Bai. It can be argued, however, that Janki is easy to empathise with, regardless of whether the novelist elicits our sympathy for her or not. Janki is by and large a likeable and kind-hearted character, all too human in her failings as well as her strengths. The various episodes of her life as recounted by the novelist make for far smoother, easier reading than the history of music that insinuates itself into every chapter. Some episodes are particularly delightful, especially Janki’s meeting with the elegant Maharani of Rewa who greets the singer while cuddling a white kitten. Much to Janki’s fascination, the kitten turns out to be a white tiger cub!