Their
music is redolent of red earth, damp breeze caressing paddy, sun-baked mud
houses and farmers — nut-brown,
sinewy.
The nine members of the
Folk Orchestra come from the backwaters of Bengal but their music’s good
enough to feature in the World Music Day performances held recently at Alliance
Française, Delhi. The musicians — habitually underselling what they
do — call such events gaan-bajna.
They also have a strange word
for passion: nasha. Few made money from music before Kolkata-based NGO,
Banglanatak dot com, streamlined the musicians into self-help groups in 2004,
trained them, brought them business and placed the best of them in an orchestra.
Before the NGO stepped in, Baul-Fakiri singers Baba Golam and Baba Fakir donated
to the Nadia sadhu sanghs where they sang; Sanatan Das’ father advised him
to give up the dhol (percussion instrument) and build bamboo houses as it pays
well — Rs 100-200 a day. But there’s no fighting the nasha.
At sound-check, they take
positions before the mikes as their coordinator shouts instructions from across
the hall. “We’d never seen them before,” says Golam of the
mikes and monitors, “They scared me.” A set of workshops fixed that.
Rehearsal over, they are instructed to leave their instruments on the stage.
Golam, 51, ignores that, packs his dotara (string instrument), hauls it out.
“The dotara is his life,” says his brother Fakir, 42, laughing.
Golam doesn’t leave his jantra (instrument); he holds it across his lap in
cars.
Golam began singing at
the age of seven at Gourbhanga but never made a buck from it till he joined
Banglanatak in 2004. Till then the brothers worked in the fields. Now Golam
makes about Rs 10,000 a month. “Today I can cool off under a fan,”
he grins. They’ve also performed in the UK and China. Life’s changed
for the others too. Flautist Mohan Patra’s kids take tuitions in Bengali
and English and he sports a pair of gold-rimmed, photo-chromatic glasses. Some
have travelled abroad and they’ll start working in a studio soon; and
nearly all have mobile phones.
Golam’s dotara is also
new, part of a set of four provided by the NGO. Sanatan Das, 49, got a dhol.
Das’ home at Asan Nagar, Nadia, supplies dhakis (group that specialises in
playing the dhak, a percussion instrument used during festivals) for Durga
Pujas. “There are 12-14 people in my colony who go to Kolkata for the
puja,” he says. The only musician in his family, he started playing at
markets and graduated to Puja venues in Kolkata.
Shiv Shankar Kalindi, 38, was
given tablas. A new recruit, he joined the orchestra in April 2010. Earlier, he
was a tabla instructor in Bibarda, Bankura and performed with Rangeela, a folk
group. Mahadev Roy joined him. Originally a carpenter from Pukhuria, Roy first
trained in theatre with Banglanatak in 2004. But he played the khol (a clay
percussion instrument) and has now moved to the dhol for the orchestra.
Others in the orchestra also
supplement their modest incomes with earnings from gaan-bajna. Bhagabat Mahato,
44, from Purulia, was part of a Chau group till it closed down in 1996.
“My father, uncles were all in it, 25-30 of us danced together,” he
says. When it was resurrected by the NGO, Mahato asked to be left out. “I
said I was too old to dance.” He now plays the dhamsa (a large drum).
Similarly, Sarat Chandra Kisku
who plays the Santal Banshi — a wide-diameter flute that produces a
whooshy sound along with the tune — too is a veteran. Also from Bankura,
Kisku is a Santhal adept at Bengali and Santhal music; he writes and composes
songs. “You don’t make much from gaan-bajna. Typically, we got
travel and lodging fares. At Bishnupur mela, they also pay Rs 200 per
person,” explains Kisku. But this one is an annual event, held on December
23.
Lead vocalist for the
tour, Saurav Mandal’s story is different. Mandal (29) is an MA in history
from Jadavpur University. To hear him relate that experience, you’d think
it scarred him for life. He tried to escape the anglicised atmosphere. Having
grown up in Kalitala, neighbouring the Sunderbans, he was more comfortable in
the fields. After his studies, he returned to the villages to record by
memorising their songs.
Banglanatak too is documenting
oral traditions. About 740 Baul-Fakiri songs are now in a book, says its
director Amitava Bhattacharya, and there are CDs too. “We don’t have
music players yet,” says Mahato. “We’ll buy when we have
money.”
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