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(This story was first published on 21 July 2016 and has been reposted from The Quint’s archives to mark Gangubai Hangal’s birth anniversary.)
When asked to write a piece about Gangubai Hangal, I remember wincing at the unfamiliarity of the name. I sat down to do some basic research and the internet resources were sparse, inadequate and dotted with news articles about her death.
On piecing together conversations, biographies and career maps, it was evident that Gangubai Hangal’s life was a triumph speckled with struggle, happiness marred by bitterness, but one that exemplified talent intensified by ceaseless hard work.
Born in 1913, Gangubai’s life spanned generations, eras and times which makes it easy to bury her struggle. Born into a family of Gangamats, or a class of simple boatmen, Gangubai bitterly recalled anecdotes of stealing fruit from her neighbour’s garden and watching them look horrified while an impure Shudra trooped through their compound. These were the same neighbours who later treated her with reverence.
Like her mother, she became the second wife of a Brahmin and was supposed to take care of him and his children, while living separately. They overcame the inherent difference of caste between them and found love.
Her husband Shri Kaulgi never worked and whatever Gangubai earned, she gave to him. He would attempt to invest it in business or trucks, but would invariably lose it, an outcome that was foreseen by Gangubai. She sold all her assets to pay off his loans.
While performing at a concert she agreed to do for money, her husband passed away.
Aside from her mother, her guru was Sawai Gandharva who also taught Pandit Bhimsen Joshi and Firoze Dastur. He lived 30 kilometres away from her and Gangubai travelled daily by train to learn from him.
Her guru was a hard task master, notorious for unceasing riyaaz of the same taal; she recounted how much she respected him, and while learning from him was often boring and monotonous, she could never question him because she trusted his judgement and intentions unflinchingly.
Throat surgery left her with a masculine voice, but the doyenne of the Kirana gharana turned it into an advantage through years of hard work.
At a music conference in Calcutta, Gangubai was asked to sing in a private sitting the night before her concert was scheduled. She was asked to do so because the organisers couldn’t imagine a frail girl like her singing. She was awarded a gold medal by the Maharaja of Tripura that day.
Gangubai spoke of the charm of the All India Music Conference where, for nine days, artists would perform and, more importantly, watch other artists perform. Performers had strong bonds back in the old days and Gangubai visited Siddeshwari Devi while she was lying paralysed in bed, and even sang Bhairavi for her.
Apart from travelling the length and breadth of the subcontinent, including Pakistan and Nepal, she sang in Germany, France, the United States and Canada.
Gangubai was awarded the Padma Bhushan, Vibhushan, the Tansen Award, and the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award.
Gangubai is credited for the change in calling prominent female singers ‘Bai’, ‘Begum’, and ‘Jan’ to addressing them as ‘Pandita’ or ‘Vidushi’. She openly protested against the double standard that existed in the industry and was a feminist who wished to make the industry more accessible to women, including her daughter Krishna.
She is a mother figure to many, including Bollywood actor Nana Patekar, who never missed an opportunity to attend her concerts.
At 94, Gangubai gave her last concert at Nadagir Wada, Kundagol where she mesmerised the audience for over half an hour.
Gangubai Hangal passed away at the age of 96 on 21 July 2009. Today, as we remember her, we need to understand these traditions passed down to us and cherish them in order to preserve them and learn from them.
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