Memories of past events

Reminiscences: Myself and The Maihar Band

Pandit Dishari Chakraborty 

Published in the Bengali language at the Kolkata International Book Fair 2025

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From the very beginning of my musical journey, one name has remained inseparably linked to my growth — the Maihar Band.

Every phase of my learning, every turning point of my artistic life, somehow carried an echo of that great institution founded by

Baba Allauddin Khan, whose vision changed the course of Indian orchestral music.

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A Beginning with Uncertainty

It was 1986. My parents had taken me to Professor Ustad Dhyanesh Khan to learn the santoor. I still remember his first words:

“The santoor does not belong to the Maihar Gharana.”He explained that in the Maihar tradition,

most instruments had either been invented or refined by Baba himself — the sarod, sitar, esraj, dilruba —

and that they were played in four distinct styles: Dhrupad Gayaki, Rabab Ang, Beenkari Ang, and Tantrakari Ang.

But my mother was determined. She wanted me to learn the santoor, and only under Ustad Dhyanesh Khan.

Perhaps it was her quiet conviction that persuaded Guruji to accept me, though with two conditions:

First, that no one except him would ever decide anything about my musical future. Second, if his method failed,

he would not be blamed. My parents agreed. Looking back, I sometimes marvel at their courage —

for no one in my family had any idea what lay ahead.

 

The Six Silent Months

For the first six months, I wasn’t allowed to play a single note. I would sit with my santoor placed before me,

observing it in silence. During that time, Guruji was researching how to teach an instrument outside his lineage.

He consulted Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, Vidushi Annapurna Devi, and Pandit Ravi Shankar, exploring ways to adapt

Maihar’s playing techniques on the santoor. Their thoughts turned toward the Nal Tarang, an instrument of the Maihar Band —

a set of tuned metal pipes struck with sticks, much like the santoor, but without strings or vibrations.

Guruji discussed his ideas with Shri Jhurrelal Ji, the Nal Tarang artist of that era. From that exchange

emerged a fresh approach: applying the bols of sitar and sarod — “Da-Diri-Da-Ra” — to the santoor.

My right hand would play the Da, the left the Ra — exactly the reverse of the Nal Tarang.

Thus began my lifelong relationship with that remarkable instrument. The Nal Tarang became

my silent companion, guiding my understanding of rhythm and resonance.

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Encounters in Maihar

Through Zubaida Khan, the first wife of Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, I met Shailendra Sharma, the Nal Tarang artist of the Maihar Band.

Another dear figure in my life was Ram Lakshan Pandey, Baba’s disciple and a sitarist in the Band.

Every visit to Maihar was a pilgrimage. Pandeyji would take me from Madina Bhavan to Maihar Bazaar —

\we’d eat jalebi and bhaji before heading to the Band’s rehearsal room by 9 a.m. Those mornings were filled with

music, laughter, and quiet reverence. The members spoke of Baba’s orchestral compositions — how he had blended

Indian instruments were incorporated into ensemble forms long before the word “fusion” entered our vocabulary.

Because musical accessories were hard to find in that small town, the musicians would give me lists of strings, bridges,

and tools to bring from Kolkata. That small act — carrying those precious parcels of sound — made me feel part of their world.

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When the Band Came to Kolkata

In 1997, during the silver jubilee commemoration of Baba Allauddin Khan’s passing, the Baba Allauddin Smarak Samiti

invited the Maihar Band to perform in Kolkata. Vidushi Annapurna Devi’s student, Uma Roy, was then the Samiti’s secretary.

She entrusted me with recording the concerts and assisting the Band.

Working with them was an education in itself. I learned the delicate art of balancing Indian orchestral sound —

how each instrument had its own character, how silence was as important as melody. I also received notations of

Maihar compositions from Shailendra Sharma Ji, which I later passed on to Vidushi Amena Pereira after mastering them myself.

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A Royal Encounter

During one of my later visits, Rajmata Kateshwari Devi of the Maihar royal family welcomed us into the palace.

She spoke lovingly about Baba and his early experiments — how he composed pieces that wove Indian ragas into

Western harmonies to delight European guests. “He was truly ahead of his time,” she told me. It was she

who first encouraged me to make a documentary on the Maihar Band — a dream that came true years later.

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Discovering the Sitar Banjo

While working on my first film in 2010, I used a rare instrument — the Sitar Banjo — created by Baba Allauddin Khan himself. With its sarod-like body and sitar-like frets, it was a perfect symbol of fusion. I later learned that Pandit Ravi Shankar, inspired by this innovation, had introduced smaller tuning knobs to the sitar design in the 1990s. Among the Maihar Band musicians, Ramsuman Chaurasia Ji played the Sitar Banjo beautifully, though the first to perform on it had been Anwar Khan Ji, Baba’s direct disciple.

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Filming the Dream

In 2011, with support from the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, I co-directed and researched a 52-minute

documentary on the Maihar Band. My years of experience recording live concerts for Ustad Ali Akbar Khan,

Ustad Zakir Hussain, Ustad Aashish Khan, and others proved invaluable.

Recording the Band was far from easy. The Nal Tarang’s metallic brilliance could easily dominate the ensemble,

and the highway near the rehearsal hall often drowned our takes in the rumble of trucks. Before the shoot,

I spent days tuning the instruments, filing metal pipes by hand, and adjusting tones. My early lessons from

Hemen Sen and N.N. Mondal, two master instrument makers connected with the Maihar lineage,

came alive during those meticulous days. We filmed across Maihar —

at the palace, the Naubat Manch, and Madina Bhavan. Every location seemed to resonate with memories of

Baba. We recorded compositions of both Baba and Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, capturing

the evolution of a tradition that continues to inspire generations.

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Echoes That Remain

Those ten days of filming were more than just work — they were a reunion with the soul of a tradition

I had grown up revering. Conversations with Dr. Kailash Jain, Ram Lakshan Pandey,

Ashok Bhadolia and Shailendra Sharma became living archives of the Band’s golden years.

Today, when I hear the shimmering tones of the Nal Tarang or the deep resonance of the sarod,

I am transported back to those mornings in Maihar — to the laughter, the shared meals, and the quiet

dedication of musicians who lived only for their art.

The Maihar Band, to me, is not merely an ensemble. It is an idea — a living embodiment of unity through sound.

And somewhere, in the silence between two notes, I still hear Baba Allauddin Khan’s vision whispering —

reminding us that music, at its purest, is harmony itself