Balgandharva

The Golden Age

I had watched this film in the iconic Plaza theatre of Dadar in Mumbai. Yes, the same one which was ravaged by 1991 Bomb blasts, and which was rejuvenated and continues to screen Marathi and Hindi movies at cheap rates. I had watched it with my mother and sister, with considerable excitement. When Balgandharva (Subodh Bhave) made his entry on the screen, there was a spontaneous applause. This was my first experience of people actually clapping in a movie theatre at the entry of a hero. My mother, however, was not surprised. According to her, this was the natural reaction of the audience to his entry - the entry of the real Balgandharva - on stage,  during the four decades that he performed. 

That ecstatic reaction lasted only for a few moments though. The rest of the film had us too mesmerized to react by clapping. I ended up watching this film three times in the theatre, in the very same month, after that. 

I wish I could say that it is my understanding or love for Hindustani Classical Music that has made me come back to this movie so many times. Truth be told, I am woefully ignorant of the raagas and the thumris and the bandish - these terms are lost on me, even though I have been lost several times in them. Neither have I any legacy of stage art and drama from my family. I was not able to justify my passion for this film in my mind for a long time. 

Years later, in the lockdown, I watched the film again on Amazon Prime (for nostalgia value, as someone had told me that watching/reading your favourite movie/book helps make you happy). It was then that I discovered some truth behind what had drawn me towards this ONE film; that it is not the extraordinary talent of this extraordinary artist which had captivated my senses as much as his personal tragedy that had moved me. 

What is this about? 

Balgandharva (directed by Chandrakant Desai) follows the life of Narayan Shripad Rajhans from the times when he was a child prodigy and when the name ‘Balgandharva’ was bestowed on him by none other than Lokmanya Tilak  (the story goes that Tilak was distracted in his studies by 

a young Narayan singing and it was then that he prophetically exclaimed that “he is indeed a Bal Gandharva”) . He was introduced to Chatrapati Shahu Maharaja by his Mama (Uncle), and with his blessings and patronage,  he began his journey in Marathi Sangeet Natak with the Kirloskar Natak Mandali. 

These were the days of all male cast dramas, and the owners of these musical companies were always on a lookout for young, good looking men with a sweet voice. These young men were then groomed by these companies, not just to sing but to also perform on stage while singing. The young, graceful and gifted Narayan was also groomed by his mentor Deval Master to enact the roles of the women with uncanny feminine expression.  

These artists sang in their own masculine voices with feminine gestures and feminine apparel; but because it was the norm - their privileges as ‘men’ in the society stayed as it was. They were not ridiculed for wearing women’s clothes and acting like them, but rather appreciated for it by the audience who thronged the theatre. Clearly, for these stree parti artists (artists playing the role of women) donning the feminine sentiment for the play did not translate into a feminine consciousness. 

When Narayanrao saw his wife for the first time in the marriage - as the antar path (sacred sheet that separated bride and groom) was lowered - he recoiled for the briefest of the second. Maybe he had expected a fairer, prettier bride. Just like the other things of beauty that he sought and cherished in the world of his Sangeet Natak. Another scene in the movie - far more poignant and which reflected his mindset towards his Art - was when he continued to perform even after hearing the news of his daughter's death. Not because he was cold and indifferent to her death - he was actually devastated. But he simply could not let go of his self imposed duty of serving and entertaining the connoisseurs(rasik maay baap) who had come to attend the play. 

It was his very attitude of romanticizing the role and responsibilities of artists vis - a - vis their audience and an obsession with perfection and beauty that was the root of the conflict with his co-artists. He relentlessly pursued perfection. He strove to bring a splendour to the stage, such that the audience would truly be transported to the very world that the actors weaved in their drama. All the sarees used had to be of silk alone. Gold plated silver ornaments and semi precious stones were used for jewellery. Perfumes were brought in from different states to spray on the audience at the entrance. Thousands of rupees were spent on scenery and decor - even when the company was in debt. Baburoa Painter was called to construct the set of Mayasabha (Palace of Illusions) for his plays. At the height of this success, women from rich families wanted their sarees and their jewellery to be designed in ‘Gandharva style’. His charisma was so irresistible that people came from long distances to see him perform, even paying as much as 100 Rupees (in those days)! 

Indeed, sitting in the audience and giving him an encore on his enthralling rendition is one thing. Working with him - on and off the stage - with all his impracticalities in handling finance and management of his company is another. And living with him as his partner in a marriage is altogether a different matter. 

It is his recklessness in spending that pushed his partners Bodas and Tembe away from the company he formed after splitting from Kirloskar Natak Mandali. He also spurned offers from his affluent admirers and the audience to help him from the financial crisis- a glimpse into his proud mind. He continued to perform with the same confidence and dedication till he secured the ownership of the company again. 

But then, age started to catch up. Even after his voice retained the same richness, his sagging cheeks and aging limbs could not bring back the innocent youth of Subhadra and Rukhmini. The golden age was finally receding. Now, women were also entering the stage in great numbers and it made sense for the Companies to cast them in female roles rather than men. 

It was at this point that the relationship with his wife fell apart- which was never thick to begin with. The destitute but self reflecting Sindhu from Ekaach Pyala may have inspired to keep his dignity afloat when the creditors crowded his company, but his wife was not the ideal from Gandkari’s play - if such an ideal really exists in real life! Gauhar Jaan (not to be confused with the legendary Gauhar Jaan ‘Gramaphone Girl’ of Kolkatta) had entered his life.  

I think he patronized and eventually fell for the charms of Gauhar Jaan because  she did not make him feel small or crazy for wanting to continue his tradition of sangeet natak. She showed faith in him when everyone else was losing theirs in his art. 

What do you make of a man like him? 

Can we lose sight of the fact his uncompromising, stubborn nature was the cause of injustice to his family when we exalt him for the greatness of his singing and performance? Can we discredit his immense, immeasurable contribution to the Marathi stage and Natya Sangeet just because he was not able to keep up to the practical affairs of maintaining a company? Can we blame him for believing in his art and idealising it, spending his entire life in the pursuit of it? Can we ever be angry at the one whose temperament is so gracious and humble that only sweet words were spent even for the creditors who came to his door asking for money? 

Maybe the normal life of a householder was just not for people like him. Maybe his wife, his children, his co-artists who could not understand him, were just fetters for a person so gifted that he himself could not suppress the talent even if he had tried. 

Is the tragedy then enforced by the society that set up these rules and regulations, and which created these rigid institutions in the first place? Or is it the cruel time that took away his glory? 

Real versus Reel

I have obviously not seen the real Balgandharva perform, and heard his songs on youtube only after watching this film. It is the handsome Subodh Bhave who comes to my mind instead, in what I believe was his finest performance. Anand Bhate lent his voice to Bhave in the movie for most of the songs, and all the classics like Ravi Me, Nahi me bolat Natha, Khara toh Prema, Mala madan bhaas ha were re-lived in the movie, at least for a few moments.

(Again, because I have no idea about Shastriya Sangeet, these little glimpses into the golden past were heavenly for an amateur like me. The real experience of Balgandharva singing these songs might have been much more grander). 

It must be difficult to squeeze in so  many important chapters from the thespian's life in a single 3 hour movie, but I think they have still managed it, better than many other biopics. Again, I lack enough research on the history of Marathi Theatre to authenticize if everything shown in the firm was as it had happened in real life. Maybe some things were exaggerated to glorify Balganharva also, who knows? Talking with one of my friends who has done quite a bit of reading on this subject enlightened me that women always performed in theatre, even during Balgandharva’s times - they were just not given their due credit in History. The film hardly addresses the nuances of the life of his contemporary artists.  

One of my favourite scenes in the film - is when the Anant Kanhere and his comrades carried out the assassination of Collector Jackson of Nashik during his play Sangeet Sharda (this I verified, the dramatic incident had indeed taken place). 

Staring into the fiery eyes of a young Kanhere who showed absolutely no regret in taking a man down must have shook him. In an instant, all the grandeur - of his opulent sets, his rich and eminent audience, his own overawing personality stood starkly exposed for its peripheral glory in the reality of struggles  ravaging in the lives  of the common people. It was then he decided to keep aside a portion of his collections to fund the cause of the Indian Freedom Struggle - not stopping even when his company got into debt. The Samyukta Manapman - where he shared the stage with another great singer was an outcome of his philanthropic efforts only.

The end of the Golden Era 

When an ageing Balgandharva took to the stage, I wanted to look away. When his audience failed him, when he became bankrupt and lonely - my heart broke for him. This was the time of the advent of Cinema in India - and moving pictures seemed like a revolution. People, fascinated beyond words, flocked to the movie theatres now while plays and sangeet natak received a backseat. 

After all, “it is a medium through which a story stays forever” - as a young V Shantaram says in his attempt to bring the great thespian to the silver screen. “Unlike a play, where the curtain falls and everyone forgets”. 

“An artist should not perform for fame, but because it gives him happiness” Narayanrao retorts, but the offer was taken. 

The film Dharmatma that Prabhat Studios (on Sant Eknath - where Narayanrao essays his role) failed at the box office. People were obviously not welcoming to the fact of their beloved Balgandharva - who epitomized femminine beauty and grace - embodying the role of a male actor. The process of retakes, the blinding lights was also repugnant to his genius and temperament. In the movie Balgandharva - Narayanrao is shown to simply walk away somewhere far, and start singing along with - and for the bereft of pilgrims (and the heartrending Chinmaya Sakal plays). His Art was too sublime, too sacred for Cinema. 

Reading about him and his last years for this article - I realised that the details of his gradual decline were even more sad than they were shown in the film.  People continued to adore him, revere him, and love him throughout his entire life. But his career as a stage artist seemed to have ended by now. The curtains had truly fallen. 

But V Shantaram was wrong about the part of people forgetting. Balgandharava has refused to fade from our memories, our hearts, our consciousness.