Struck by Virtuosity
It was time again to meet Ustad Fahimuddin Dagar ji today. I knew there would be a second time, and I am glad that it took its time. When I suggested I go this Thursday, it was done.
Meeting Dagar ji was like a breath of fresh air. He is 80+ and a child at heart if I've seen one. Words can hardly do justice to the aura I felt in his presence today, the aura that spread the perfume of purity all around. A man of small built, hair all grey, he is soft-spoken and gentle. And with one look at him, the word 'guru' attains definition. The notes that flow out of his lips are perfect indeed, but even the words have a glow to them one must experience to understand. Need I add I was swept away?!
When I walked in, he was teaching two young shishyas, and I sat behind them. I took the empty spot next to I, and immediately found my home in the meditative atmosphere that had been set. The teaching and the learning continued, and as in meditation, my only effort was to remove every other thought from mind and become one with the sound. Every now and then, Dagar ji would correct their posture, explain how the position of the spine was important for it was like an antenna that had to be in place. Or he would break into bouts of philosophizing, as any dedicated guru is wont to, while I breathed in every word. Har lavz sar aankhon par...
A half hour later, he realized he hadn't acknowledged my presence yet. I explained to him who I was and why I was there. After a few tries with my name (he thought I was Nirma!), he finally registered it, and swiftly reverted to his teaching. Students trickled in, as time went by, but the class continued - with him exercising an acute ear and tremendous patience.
For me, this meeting amounted to more than just two hours of my life. It was a listening and a realizing. Perhaps the realization that hit me the hardest was that I had thus far been interested in music, certainly, but with the sole interest of singing rather than learning. As a brand new yearning found its way in today - to learn rather than to sing, to start with the sa and meditate upon it for years if necessary, a strayness found its way home.
The pearls of wisdom that Dagar ji shared were precious. He equated music with pavitrata, or purity, stressing the need for exercising caution - so as to find the right swara and laya. He also spoke of shraddha and prem, and their power to transform into beauty. While mentioning prem, he went on to talk of that emotion that we feel for our parents when we are born, so that we may feel it also for the people around us, and in turn feel it for God. And God himself had no religion with him, as he directed his students - in one breath - to sing Om and meditate upon Allah. A young student repeated Ni-Sa 108 times, as Dagar ji counted on his japa mala.
The singing became so intoxicating, no doubt he too wished for it to be endless, as he continued to 'tune' his speech to 'sa', while he told one of his students to give up on adding sugar-free to his tea because he didn't know how to. It is these little things that made him so endearing, that made him so perfect. Before me, there was not a highly acclaimed maestro, a carrier of the famed name of Dagar, an artist of stature. Before me, there was music, and no one else. The ego seemed to have vacated its place eons ago. Music had left little place for any other existence.
As I yearned to stay there, a strange thing happened. I realized that the encounter was beautiful because that yearning was so deep. And there it ended. There was no desire to linger on to keep that yearning fulfilled for the little time possible. It was a gift, it had been taken and imbibed. Time it was to let it out again. Here it is, then.
[NB: This meeting took place on the 18th of June, 2009.]
Meeting Dagar ji was like a breath of fresh air. He is 80+ and a child at heart if I've seen one. Words can hardly do justice to the aura I felt in his presence today, the aura that spread the perfume of purity all around. A man of small built, hair all grey, he is soft-spoken and gentle. And with one look at him, the word 'guru' attains definition. The notes that flow out of his lips are perfect indeed, but even the words have a glow to them one must experience to understand. Need I add I was swept away?!
When I walked in, he was teaching two young shishyas, and I sat behind them. I took the empty spot next to I, and immediately found my home in the meditative atmosphere that had been set. The teaching and the learning continued, and as in meditation, my only effort was to remove every other thought from mind and become one with the sound. Every now and then, Dagar ji would correct their posture, explain how the position of the spine was important for it was like an antenna that had to be in place. Or he would break into bouts of philosophizing, as any dedicated guru is wont to, while I breathed in every word. Har lavz sar aankhon par...
A half hour later, he realized he hadn't acknowledged my presence yet. I explained to him who I was and why I was there. After a few tries with my name (he thought I was Nirma!), he finally registered it, and swiftly reverted to his teaching. Students trickled in, as time went by, but the class continued - with him exercising an acute ear and tremendous patience.
For me, this meeting amounted to more than just two hours of my life. It was a listening and a realizing. Perhaps the realization that hit me the hardest was that I had thus far been interested in music, certainly, but with the sole interest of singing rather than learning. As a brand new yearning found its way in today - to learn rather than to sing, to start with the sa and meditate upon it for years if necessary, a strayness found its way home.
The pearls of wisdom that Dagar ji shared were precious. He equated music with pavitrata, or purity, stressing the need for exercising caution - so as to find the right swara and laya. He also spoke of shraddha and prem, and their power to transform into beauty. While mentioning prem, he went on to talk of that emotion that we feel for our parents when we are born, so that we may feel it also for the people around us, and in turn feel it for God. And God himself had no religion with him, as he directed his students - in one breath - to sing Om and meditate upon Allah. A young student repeated Ni-Sa 108 times, as Dagar ji counted on his japa mala.
The singing became so intoxicating, no doubt he too wished for it to be endless, as he continued to 'tune' his speech to 'sa', while he told one of his students to give up on adding sugar-free to his tea because he didn't know how to. It is these little things that made him so endearing, that made him so perfect. Before me, there was not a highly acclaimed maestro, a carrier of the famed name of Dagar, an artist of stature. Before me, there was music, and no one else. The ego seemed to have vacated its place eons ago. Music had left little place for any other existence.
As I yearned to stay there, a strange thing happened. I realized that the encounter was beautiful because that yearning was so deep. And there it ended. There was no desire to linger on to keep that yearning fulfilled for the little time possible. It was a gift, it had been taken and imbibed. Time it was to let it out again. Here it is, then.
[NB: This meeting took place on the 18th of June, 2009.]
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