A short and very sweet recording issued originally in 1972 in the wake of the Bangladesh freedom movement.
Assigning countries and labels to musicians is a waste of time in South Asia. The land that stretches from Peshawar in the western part of Pakistan to Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh was for many centuries part of an imagined cultural space which was once called Hindustan. Yes, Pathans were different from Punjabis who were different from Biharis and Bengalis but uniting these many language groups was an ethos and a sophisticated cultural mode of expression.
It could be detected in certain rules of living and ruling. As well as in a language that if not spoken fluently or even frequently was familiar to people all across this region. And though there existed (and still do) countless styles of folk music in northern India the classical tradition was at home as much in muggy Dhaka as it was in arid Peshawar.
So to call Ali Akbar Khan an Indian musician is really just silly. He was born into one of the most illustrious classical music households in Hindustan but in what is now called Bangladesh. He lived and taught in the US for decades and has been awarded high honors by the Indian government. His followers and fans are legion in Pakistan and he has made some of the most enduring ‘jazz/fusion’ recordings.
Ali Akbar Khan is a great maestro of the sarod, a son of Hindustan and a citizen of the world.
But in 1971 things were hot on the subcontinent. Bazaar garam tha, as they say. And it is not surprising that in times of intense conflict and suffering people remember their roots and pray for loved ones. This album is Khan sahib’s prayer.
The first raga, Bhimpalasi, is an afternoon raga and is full of the artist’s longing for home. Bhimpalasi expresses the ‘Suppressed longing of a lover, but [is] serene, with dignity, and yet throbbing with deep emotion. Sung or played from late afternoon to sunset, Bhimpalasi is poignant and passionate, filled with yearning.’
The second selection is raga Sivaranjani a piece that glimmers with sadness. In the words of one commentator “Sivaranjini is a hauntingly melancholic raga usually sung from late evening to midnight (9 PM to 12 AM). The meaning of the raga name is interpreted as Shiva-the Lord + Ranjini-to please. [Thus, this is] the raga sung to please the fearsome Lord Shiva.
Longing and melancholy in a hymn to a shattered homeland.