Walking the line

Photo: Murali Kumar K.

Different drum Prabhakar Karekar: ‘How do I explain how hard I have worked to emerge differently in each of the genres that I sing?’

I think of Prabhakar Karekar, the remarkable musician with resonating baritone voice, and lapse into singing the 120-year-old Marathi Natyasangeet composition, “Gheyi Chand…”. As my mind delights in the intense tune, unexpected contours, and unusual flights…I pause. Will Prabhakar Karekar, who sings khyal with utmost seriousness and ingenuity, pardon me for this? Not that I forget his poignant Ahir Lalit or the dazzling Bilaskhani Todi. Not even the Bageshree ang Chandrakauns… as I am telling myself this, I catch myself humming, “Priye Paha”, the lovely Natyasangeet, which the legendary Chota Gandharv and Prabhakar Karekar have immortalised.

Even listeners with austere tastes, have not been able to resist or shun natyasangeet; not even the greatest of musicians. Savants such as Sawai Gandharva, Abdul Karim Khan, Bhimsen Joshi, Mallikarjun Mansur, Vasantrao Deshpande and many others have been drawn into this form – a heady combination of romantic lilt and classicism. Prabhakar Karekar too has not escaped its pull.

In fact, for a long time, he was simply known as a natyasangeetkar, even as it was fuelling his primary interest, classical music.

“Most of them are based on classical bandishes. So your taiyyari has to be perfect to negotiate Natyasangeet. In fact, there are times when I have felt that it is easier to sing khyal,” explains the affable maestro who never disappoints.

With a rather pronounced, but loveable nasal twang, every rendition of Karekar is power-packed. The amazing thing about him is that whether it’s thumri, natyasangeet, bhajan or khayal, each form retains its own distinct personality. The meditativeness of his khyal singing doesn’t interfere in his ornate renditions of natyasangeet. He seems strictly a khyal singer when he sings khyal and strictly a natyasangeetkar when he sings natyasangeet.

“That is something I consciously worked at,” reveals this down-to-earth maestro, among the best in the country. His guru, another legendary musician of Maharashtra, Pandit Jitendra Abhisheki, had told the young Prabhakar: “You shouldn’t end up singing just for Maharashtra. Your preparation should be for an Indian audience.” It did not make much sense to Prabhakar then, but years later, during a practice session his guru’s words came back to him in a flash. “How do I explain to you how hard I have worked to emerge differently in each of the genres that I sing? It was a very conscious process…,” he says, explaining how in the beginning his music was made up of strands from many musicians. “A bit of Amir Khan saab, a little Kesarbai Kerkar, some ideas from my guru, so on and so forth. But when I started thinking seriously about my voice and my music, I struggled to give it a distinct character. Something that was original, my own,” he says.

Like most creative arts, the road to mastery is a lonely process. “Day and night, I was at my music. But all I could see was darkness. There were times when I could not see a single beacon of light. I almost decided I would give up music and settle down with a job and normal creature comforts. However, deep within me, I was determined to do nothing, but music,” recalls Karekar.

Talent and good fortune are not something that an individual can determine, but knowledge that one earns through hard work stays on. This realisation steeled Karekar’s resolve to stay on in music. “To sing for an hour, you need to practise for six hours and think about it constantly…it’s tough.”

He was determined to stand ground, but at the same time, he also needed money to give himself a decent diet. “After all, you need milk, ghee, and fruit, if you have to sing,” says the plain-speaking Prabhakar. To feed himself, he started singing for theatre groups. He became such a hit that people started begging for more. “Because people got to hear natyasangeet, they thought that’s what I was (good at),” while he, after his hours at the theatre, was diligently putting all his time to perfecting his classical music.

After ten years with Suresh Haldankarji, eight years with Abhisheki, he went on to learn with Pandit C.R. Vyas, who had spent 50 years of his lifetime learning music. With such a wide exposure, Prabhakar was able to blend different styles, different gharanas with great ease. “It is very limiting to sing a concert of just abhangs or natyasangeet, nevertheless, I am never against exploring new possibilities. After all, they are based on traditional, classical music.”

Each time you listen to Prabhakar Karekar, one is not just surprised at his large repertoire, but also at how he manages to sound so inspired. He strictly preserves the grammar of khayal, and brings out the melodic nuances with a stirring effect. What is it that makes his singing so intricate, so embellished, so ornate, so fresh, and so full of vitality? Prabhakar Karekar laughs. “I think I owe it to people who listen to me seriously.”

After all this, if I go back to humming a natyasangeet tune, he wouldn’t mind, would he?

(Prabhakar Karekar will give an abhang recital on July 18 at Chowdiah Memorial Hall organised by Veda Vyaasa Peetha. Cards are available. For details, call 98450 67101)

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