On 31 December 1955, the world lost an artist who could have been the ‘Greatest of All Time’ in the Hindustani Musical scene—because her husband couldn’t stomach the fact that she was better than him. Annapurna Devi stopped performing in public in an attempt to save her marriage to sitarist Pandit Ravi Shankar.
She is a Padma Bhushan awardee, a celebrated player of surbahaar (bass sitar), and arguably the first woman Hindustani classical instrumentalist. Very little is known about her who stayed away from the spotlight because her husband was insecure of her musical prowess.
Her story also inspired the film Abhimaan (1973), starring Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bachchan.
Six years after her death on 13 October 2018, Nirmal Chander traced the life of Annapurna Devi through the eyes of her students in his documentary, 6-A Akash Ganga—named after the Mumbai residence where she retreated to and coached her students. The documentary was screened at the India International Centre in New Delhi on 3 February.
Husband’s insecurity
The documentary captures the journey of her student, Pandit Nityanand Haldipur, as he travels across the country to meet other students to draw a picture of Annapurna Devi’s personality. Haldipur convinced her to tell the story of her life. He was also the closest to her and lived in her apartment for seven years to take care of her, said Nityanand who was present at the film’s screening.
One of the people the singer interviewed in the documentary is a music teacher from Chennai, Shakuntala Narsimhan, who attended Annapurna Devi’s one of the last concert at a music academy (unnamed) in Chennai.
The concert was headlined by Ravi Shankar who quickly grew insecure during her performance. “She was outshining him. He would play a raga, and she would follow it up playing faster, and Pandit ji was very clearly not happy with it,” Narsimhan tells Haldipur in the film.
“I accept defeat,” Pandit Ravi Shankar apparently said at the end of the concert.
In the narration of the film, Annapurna Devi says Ravi Shankar never directly asked her to stop performing, but he was “sly” enough to express his displeasure. She didn’t even perform at the insistence of former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. The only ‘audience’ she eventually performed for—we learn through the film—was George Harrison of The Beatles, at the insistence of Ravi Shankar.
Ravi Shankar wanted to flaunt his wife. He used her to climb the stairs of musical aristocracy — she was the daughter of multi-instrumentalist Ustaad Allauddin Khan (born Roshanaara Khan, she converted to Hinduism on the day of her wedding)—but couldn’t bear the fact that she received more praise than him. Even the Ustaad would say Annapurna Devi was his most able student, a claim reiterated by her brother, sarod player Ali Akbar Khan.
Also read: Rahat Fateh Ali Khan’s ‘guru’ defence doesn’t cut it. End this parampara of shishya abuse
An artist stolen
Annapurna Devi’s story was one of profound tragedy and pain. The first shot of the documentary is of the filmmakers entering her sea-facing flat in Akash Ganga Mumbai. This flat would become the only place where Annapurna Devi would meditate with her music, and impart her knowledge to a select few students.
The documentary is also the story of the pure love a student and teacher can share. It shows complete devotion from both ends. The students talk about seeing their guru struggle, and how they are unable to do anything about it. They share the story of the woman who made them, and all students—incidentally middle-aged men—identify the perils of patriarchy in India and their industry through the suffering of their guru.
Learning under her was no easy feat. Aspiring musicians had to chase her for months, even years, for her to accept them as her shishyas. She would teach them at night till dawn—the only time she got a break from her wifely duties.
One of the pivotal moments in her life, which likely strengthened her resolve to quit performing, was the widespread slut-shaming and character assassination that followed rumours of her having an extramarital affair with Bimal Ghosh, a friend of Ravi Shankar. In the documentary, her students maintained that she was not involved in an affair and was, in fact, framed by Ravi Shankar to defame her. He had even called the police on Ghosh and Annapurna Devi.
Annapurna Devi never performed publicly even after her separation from Ravi Shankar in 1967. It was almost like she didn’t want to let any sentiment pollute her art, her music. The minute Ravi Shankar’s gaze of contempt and jealousy fell on her art, she snatched that power from him by giving up the stage. She became a musician without an audience.
Only three of her performances, secretly recorded by her students, are available for public consumption: ragas Manj Khamaj, Kaushiki and Yaman Kalyan.
In an obituary for The Guardian, Reginald Massey—who has written on and covered Indian culture—called Annapurna Devi’s improvisations of ragas precise and incredible, and the experience of seeing her perform live hypnotic. ” It is no wonder that when she performed in public both audiences and critics were as hypnotised as I was.”
Chander was approached by the Sangeet Natak Akademi to make a biographical film on Annapurna Devi while he was working on a project documenting the life of ghazal singer Begum Akhtar.
In a conversation after the screening, Chander called his experience of making this documentary a way of “discovering his craft.”
“I spent many afternoons lying in the living room, having nothing to do, sleeping in the ocean air. Thinking about my craft and myself,” he said.
Annapurna Devi never features in the documentary. The director revealed that the artist passed away within 10 days of the beginning of the shoot. The allegory of her absence in the film, which was largely about her absence from the world, was deeply touching.
The director lets you enter her room and see it, once and for all, after her death. It’s a cluttered room, with her hospital bed surrounded by relics of the past, stacked on top of each other. It was the room of a recluse, a musical genius– born in the wrong era, married to the wrong man.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Ratan Priya)
Excellent , heartbreaking. Exposes both the patriarchy and the perils and problems of our much revered Guru-Shishya parampara. As you rightly say, both the patriarchy and male chauvinism are so stark!