It is a privilege to have been asked to write an introduction to a book that celebrates the life and work of Pandit Kumar Bose or Kumarda as many in the field of Hindustani music respectfully refer to him. A prominent torchbearer of the Banaras gharana, one of the six major styles of tabla playing in the Indian subcontinent, Kumarda’s individuality as a soloist and accompanist have set him apart from his contemporaries. The very tonal quality of his playing is distinctly recognizable, and while holding fast to the virtues of the Banaras tradition, he has added his characteristic expression to compositions from the tabla solo repertoire that he has inherited from his gurus. Not surprisingly then, Kumarda’s music attracts students of tabla like me as well as a cross-section of cognoscenti and uninitiated among audiences. But before I elaborate upon Kumarda’s prowess as a tabla player, let me place before the readers a few home truths about the life of a Hindustani musician.
The life of an arts’ practitioner is fraught with risks related to not just those encountered during artistic pursuit but also those that are part of day-to-day existence. Indeed, the latter is a reality for even those not engaged in the arts. But the nature of artistic pursuit is not formulaic, and therefore, even the mundane aspect of subsistence has no set path as would otherwise be the case with most individuals involved in other professions, regular employment, or even businesses. It should come as no surprise then to aficianados of Hindustani music that those pursuing this system of music in their professional capacity as performers and teachers also face similar perils. That they choose not to speak of these or that the rest of society does not recognize these is beside the point.
While I am not trying to glorify the arduous journey of Hindustani musicians, it is amply clear that the challenges begin early with their search for a guru. Once having found a guru, it is left to the guru to decide whether to accept them as disciples. But after this acceptance, the onus is on the students to remain immersed in the subject despite the pressures of everyday life. After an extended period of undergoing tutelage, students move out in the field as professionals in the hope of finding viable concert opportunities. The extent to which such challenges are encountered may differ between musicians, but the fact remains that there is no escaping them in most cases. It is true that the lifestyles of Hindustani musicians today are vastly different and, in many ways, easier than they were for their predecessors, but there is no denying the fact that every generation has its set of problems.
However, despite the professional pursuit of Hindustani music being an uphill task, certain musicians have gained public recognition due to their artistic excellence and dedication. Kumarda has carved a niche for himself as a tabla player of eminence due to these very factors and more. For Kumarda, music came as a familial inheritance. Both parents were musicians, and his father Pandit Biswanath Bose was the first guru. His father had been a disciple of Pandit Kanthe Maharaj, the revered guru of the Banaras gharana, and to that extent, Kumarda was perhaps more fortunate in being able to skip the first challenge in the life of a student, that of seeking a guru. But his training did not stop with his father, and he continued his taaleem in the Banaras gharana under the renowned tabla exponent Pandit Kishan Maharaj. That too was a natural progression since Pandit Kishan Maharaj was the nephew and disciple of Pandit Kanthe Maharaj with whom there was already an association.
Kumarda has been featured in India and elsewhere both as a soloist and as an accompanist to celebrated musicians. But the early years as a performer must have had their share of ordeals that he must have very ably negotiated. In fact, he has narrated some of these anecdotes as part of interviews that are accessible on the internet. They inform listeners not only with details of his professional life but also provide a window to the life of a tabla player in the Hindustani music ecosystem. I have already referred to the difficulties that Hindustani musicians generally face in the process of establishing themselves as performers. But tabla players have to struggle even more as they primarily have to accompany other musicians. Solo recitals are few and far between, and it is therefore necessary to establish themselves as competent accompanists. This role requires musical restraint as tabla players are expected to tailor their playing to the requirements of the main performer. However, their role offstage is also often determined by the equation they enjoy with the main performers. Thus, instead of camaraderie that one would expect between members of the same ensemble, there is often a feeling of subservience that tabla players undergo until such time as they establish themselves to an extent where they can command a respectable position offstage. Kumarda must have encountered many moments that could have left him disheartened in the face of such moments of inequality. But it is to the credit of iconic tabla players like him that they were determined to forge ahead and eventually made a name for themselves. His life is therefore an inspiration for succeeding generations not only for the music he makes but for the experiences – good and bad – that he may have gathered along the way.
As I write this introduction, my mind goes back to the first time that I witnessed him in a public performance in 1989. He was accompanying Pandit Ravi Shankar in Mumbai in a concert that featured the sitar maestro with the European Union Youth Orchestra conducted by the famous conductor Zubin Mehta. It was an incredible performance for the gamut of emotions that it evoked, but I still remember that Kumarda’s tabla stood out for its brilliance. Since then, I have had the opportunity of listening to his solo recitals and his accompaniment to instrumental and vocal music and for Kathak performances too.
If I were to encapsulate the characteristic features of Kumarda’s tabla playing, I would say that his sound production is marked by a weighty and resonant tonal quality that has a marked fiery quality on the dayan (the treble drum that is usually played with the right hand, but which Kumarda plays with the left) only to be mellowed by an equal focus on the pressure of the wrist on the bayan (the bass drum usually played with the left hand, but which Kumarda plays with the right). The virtuosic quality of his playing is matched by his love for the language and poetry of the instrument, which is evident in the compositions he chooses to include in his solo recitals. Needless to say, the inclusion of this variety of compositions is possible only due to his mastery over all strokes of the tabla language.
Although his presentations are firmly embedded in the Banaras gharana, he includes compositions from other traditions too, whether they may be from the Lucknow gharana or a qaida that may have been played by Ustad Habibuddin Khan, the Ajrada exponent who was also a disciple of Ustad Munir Khan, a guru who had imbibed rich repertoire from the Delhi, Ajrada, Lucknow and Farrukhabad gharanas. When in the role of an accompanist, his playing is marked by a balance between restraint and powerful interplay with the soloist’s exposition.
I am sure his performances and recordings will continue to inspire generations of students and performers. Equally, I am certain his life and work life and work described in this book will inform readers about the life of a tabla player of his eminence and experience.
This is an excerpt from Tablāwālā: A Narrated Memoir, by Kumar Bose, Syāh Press, Delhi, May 2024.
