I was a student at university when I first heard the vocals of Shobha Gurtu and, most amazingly, inside a movie hall. As the credits of Raj Khosla’s blockbuster Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki unfurled to the accompaniment of the song ‘Saiya Rooth Gaye’, I presumed the feminine voice was that of Begum Akhtar. But when the playback credits stated that the singer was a certain Shobha Gurtoo (yes, that is how the name was spelt on the screen), I became curious about this female singer whose nasal twang resembled that of the much-adored Queen of Ghazals so closely.

Looking around for songs before the era of YouTube was always a massive effort, and to trace a relatively unknown voice was even more tedious. Hence, spending my meagre pocket money on a record of a newcomer had to be a judicious decision that could only be taken after careful listening. Although I found no records of Gurtu on the shelves of music shops, my vigil led me to discover that she had earlier given playback in films like Phagun and Duniyadari as well as Pakeezah (though the composition was not included in the film). Surprisingly, all of the compositions, including a qawwali with the legendary Mohammed Rafi, had escaped my ears and later too, one caught snatches of her singing occasionally from the non-film song programmes of Vividh Bharati.

However, from 1980 onwards when cassette tapes flooded the market and private stage shows began to gravitate towards the smaller cities of India, Gurtu came to be heard on a regular basis in the public domain. There is no denying that initially a major attraction for most listeners was the texture of her voice which was akin to that of Begum Akhtar and although Gurtu was not into singing ghazals at that time, her fine repertoire of thumri, kajri, khayal and hori had begun to create a steady stock of admirers.

Nonetheless, the real and delightful experience was hearing Gurtu in person. There was an inherent earthiness in her voice and her singing showed humility; an emotive expression which seemed like an outpouring of gratitude before a celestial being. Exhibiting a near perfect grip on the classical intonations and a high level of proficiency, her renditions were like gentle submissions to a divine power. Unlike many of her contemporaries, Gurtu treated audiences with utmost respect, never displayed haughtiness and even gleefully deviated from her prepared list of compositions to accommodate requests of the listeners.

Watching her live performances, I felt she immersed herself into the ‘mood’ of the composition and delivered myriad inflections of the verses in different ragas in a state of meditative trance. My observation as a listener is endorsed by one of India’s leading tabla players, Aneesh Pradhan, who had the good fortune of accompanying Gurtu on stages across India and overseas for several years. Pradhan notes that Gurtu “moved on to a different mental space” while performing, almost as if she was in direct communion with a higher spirit. Gurtu’s disciple and well-known singer, Rajashree Kelkar Pathak, who will be paying tribute to her guru at the NCPA, recalls Gurtu’s spontaneity onstage where she would come up with “inspiring variations that were completely unheard and unrehearsed before.”

Every artiste’s personality has a distinct bearing on his or her craft whereby the personal idiosyncrasies, beliefs and attitudes permeate into their creations. Shubha Joshi, a long-standing disciple of Gurtu, opines Gurtu’s singing was a reflection of her refined and courteous persona. “Madam Gurtu was a gentle soul who respected her accompanists so much that irrespective of their age, she would touch the feet of the tabla and harmonium players before singing,” says Joshi. Pradhan concurs, saying, “Shobha Tai’s simplicity and sense of camaraderie with her accompanying musicians was as much evident onstage as it was offstage.” Her care stretched on to her relationship with her students and Pathak recounts, “She treated disciples as her own family, taking care of minute details of their food and travel even amidst her hectic schedules.” Gurtu was not a conventional teacher but “a playful mate who would joyfully coax her students to sing along so that they could imbibe the intricacies of a particular composition.” Both Pathak and Joshi believe it was “her way of inspiring rather than binding down disciples within rigid tentacles of technique and theory.”

True to her gentility, Gurtu was not into exaggerated displays of gyrations or histrionics, but let it not be presumed that her soft demeanour ever allowed the quality of her performance to suffer. “Though the atmosphere in the green room was never sombre, the humour and laughter would recede after she began identifying the compositions [to be presented onstage],” Pradhan says.

Like all good artistes, Gurtu went beyond the narrow and rigid confines of conventions. As such, to improve the emotive quotient of her renditions, she would at times add an element of ‘adaa’ (enactment) to her singing and one can feel those vibrations in compositions like ‘Saiya Nikas Gaye’, ‘Baan Naino Ka’, ‘Rangi Saari Gulabi Chunariya Re’, ‘Najaria Lage Nahin Kahin Aur’ and many others. Though an accomplished singer of pure classical Hindustani music, Gurtu acquired fame with her subtle interpretations and inputs of light classical music which earned her the sobriquet of Thumri Queen, alongside her contemporary Girija Devi. Although Gurtu provided thumris a distinct appeal with her abhinaya ang, my personal preference is for her bhajans that carry a virakti (disaffection) from the mundane world and which, in spite of her moving renditions, have remained highly underrated by most music aficionados.

Gurtu was not blessed with a sugary-sweet voice but if she compels attention, it is because of her wonderful emoting of the mood through her singing. Her bhajans—like ‘Kanha Re Tori Jovat Rah Gayi Baat’, ‘Palak Ughado Dinananth’—evoke such tender feelings that one can almost feel the pain of Meera’s separation from Krishna. Referring to her penchant for infusing the romantic element of Krishna in her singing, Gurtu’s son Narendra had once stated that onstage, she was always a Radha. Yet, in all humility, her timbre blends and identifies more with the mystic devotion of Meera as her voice has an element of pain wrapped within itself.

The beauty of art and the skill of an artiste, however, are such that every listener can have a different interpretation of a creative composition. Gurtu was born as Bhanumati Shirodkar in Belgaum in 1925 and received her first musical initiations from her mother Menakabai Shirodkar, a professional dancer as well as a disciple of vocalist Alladiya Khan. She acquired finesse under the tutelage of Ghamman Khan who also strengthened her ties to the Jaipur-Atrauli gharana. However, her marriage to Vishwanath Gurtu and subsequent move to Mumbai proved fortuitous as it expanded her professional and artistic horizons, resulting in a meaningful career in singing.

Her proficiency made her an artiste welcome in several countries across the globe. Performing at various prestigious art centres and auditoriums with distinction, Gurtu’s skills were duly acknowledged with the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award and the Padma Bhushan. Though influenced by the prowess of Begum Akhtar, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and elements of Banaras and Jaipur gharanas, the beauty of Gurtu’s singing is that, like the best of artistes, she rose beyond constrictions to delight and capture hearts and ears alike of commoners, critics and connoisseurs.

Old-timers fondly remember her wonderful jugalbandi with the Kathak maestro Birju Maharaj, whose feet resonated his belief that “dance makes you beautiful”. Maharaj collaborated with many singers, yet his association with Gurtu at Carnegie Hall in New York is termed as an exceptional fusion of sublime grace and skill. Pradhan nostalgically recalls several other occasions when her singing transported audiences to ecstasy and that is surely no exaggeration since Gurtu had an instinctive feel for the sur (musical note) as well as the mood of the poetry. And, since she knew the art of transporting her own joy to her audiences, it is no wonder that she still has many admirers humming her tunes, from Dallas to Delhi.

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Deepak Mahaan is a documentary filmmaker and an eminent author. A specialist on cinema and sports, he has published numerous pieces in prestigious publications in India and abroad. For more information, please visit www.deepakmahaan.com

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