BULBUL TAARA, SLIDE GUITAR AND A DOUBLE BASS: Extract from "No Sex, Some Drugs & a Lil'-bit-o'-Rock & Roll."

When I first came to Allahabad in 1973, I was playing only Western Music. Beatles, Rolling Stones, Rock and Roll and some Hard Rock of Cream, Led Zepplin, The Who, Jimi Hendrix and the Doors.

But, in Allahabad, I had started playing Hindi Film Music too and started to like it. The term “Bollywood”, which refers to the Mumbai Film Industry had not been coined yet, but there was a big following for songs sung by Mohamad Rafi, Kishore Kumar, Manna Dey, Hemant Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhonsle. The Director / Composer RD Burman’s music was a refreshing new breath for Hindi Cinema as he used a lot of western influences in his compositions which invariably became super hits on radio and record sales.

Drifting away from traditional Raga based tunes; RD Burman’s music with its very Occidental melodies and intriguing Chord sequences was eminently suited for the Guitar.

Chord sequences were OK to accompany, but the main melody had to be played or sung. With Oriental influences, the melody however, had the lilting style of Raga Music. A band, usually referred to as “orchestra”, had to have a plethora of singers each of who specialized in the songs of a particular singer and further who looked or imitated the look of that particular singer. They usually had stage names like Junior Mohamad Rafi, Junior Kishore Kumar or Junior Lata!

So, it was much easier to get together an “instrumental orchestra” which played out the melody of the more popular hits. Next to the melody, Rhythm and Percussion was important as film music had lots of breaks and beat or tempo changes. In fact the percussionists outnumbered the other musicians. There had to be at least three percussionists. A Tabla was essential and a Dholak too. Another percussionist played Congo / Bongo / Thumba. A Jazz Drum Set and a Bass Guitar could be added to reproduce RD Burman’s style and sound.

I had also observed that after I started playing Hindi Film Music, there were many more gigs coming than when I was performing with a Western Music Band. Also, the payments were better.

Bhuvan Malaviya was the first really good instrumental melody player I met. He played two instruments – BulBul Taara and Hawaiian Slide Guitar. The BulBul Taara is a local adaptation of probably the Dulcimer or the Hurdy Gurdy. It had four strings stretched across an oblong wooden box and a set of piano keys to play the melody. Only, they were not Piano Keys, but keys scavenged from an old mechanical typewriter.  All four strings were tuned together to the same note. The instrument is strummed using a plastic plectrum strumming across the keys with the right hand, while the left hand operated the keys to give a single note melody. The range is just two octaves.

Electronic Pianos and Keyboards were just making their appearance in India. But the brands were premier – Roland, Yamaha, Hammond and Korg. They were also extremely costly – over Rs. 10,000, which was much beyond the reach of us middle-class musicians. Only the Shattered Prism had a Roland, it had been imported from the US by a relative. But the Shattered Prism was in a different class. They never played commercially and never played Hindi Music. For us, the BulBul Taara and the Slide Guitar (Homemade) were our only refuge for clean melody.

Bhuvan also played Hawaiian guitar. He had made the Guitar himself from an old Railway wooden sleeper. He had somehow acquired a “pick-up:” for it. This was made by Manuel Industries – a tiny workshop in a small garage in Ernakulam, Kerala. This company was a pioneer in producing Pickups and Electric Guitars. The Pickups were hand wound by Mr. Emanuel himself and the winding and magnets were in excess compared to imported pickups. Though they produced a more powerful signal, they also reproduced the guitar sound with their own unique tone, with the bass / thicker strings coming out louder than the treble / thinner strings. Those days, there were no Guitar Gadgets around, not counting Babloo Khan’s Fuzz-Wah pedal, which in any case, could not be used with melodious Hindi Music and was restricted only for our Western shows – that too only my Hard Rock numbers. Every time I set up the Fuzz Wah pedal, Larry French’s Dad who was permanent MC at the Bundhoba or Thornhill Club gigs would say: “Here comes Mr. Noise!”

Being Anglo-Indians, Larry and the couple of Drummers who played with us were quite unfamiliar with Indian Music, so whenever we had a purely Hindi Film Music gig, we could not take them. So Bhuvan used to bring his own percussionist – usually playing Congo – a three piece set played with the hands. There was no Cymbal or High Hat. With Navin Dutt and me alternating Rhythm and Bass Guitar, we had a very compact four piece Instrumental Band. Both Bhuvan & Navin had built their own Amplifiers – about 30 Watts only and powered Speakers in Cabinets that they had built too. I had my 10” Speaker built into a fairly large Wooden Cabinet, but I needed to beg or borrow or hire an amplifier to power it. This was used for Bass Guitar. The Band did not use any mikes – our meager electric amplification meant that neither the Congo nor even a Drum set needed to be miked up.

But there were mikes on stage. Most of our performances were part of an entertainment program which included several other items – Skits, Dances, Mimicry and Stand-up Comedian Acts. Then there were the ever present Politicos and Netas who had to give speeches. In fact, we also took a Stand-up Comedian with us. His job was to keep the Audience occupied for the ten minutes or so it took to connect our instruments and the amplifiers. I met several different such artistes, but one thing our Band required was that he could sing too in an emergency. In the process, I also met scores of other musicians and we travelled to Gorakhpur, Lucknow, Kanpur and Varanasi for various gigs. We had several “jams” with other musicians and it was a very good learning experience for me.

Playing Hindi music I also got interested in seeing the movies. For this I had Ramzan, my Land Lady Mrs. Phillips “Khansama” or Cook. Ramzan had served with the Army during the Second World War in Abbasynia, Italy and France. He was a “BT (British Trained)” cook and that meant he was trained to cook and serve British Food. Mrs. Phillips whose late husband was a Judge of the Allahabad High Court was a thorough Anglophile and ate only English food. Often Ramzan would give me tit bits of Scones, Tarts, English Crackers and the blandest English Foods. As a pastime, Mrs. Phillips used to run cooking classes for the rather bored aristocracy of Allahabad. She would assemble all the ladies in her drawing room where they expectantly waited with their note books. Then she would start:

“First you take Six Eggs …… Phir kya karna hai, Ramzan?”

Ramzan: “Peela aur safed alag se nikalna.”

Mrs. Philips: “Ah yes, now you must separate the Yolk from the White while breaking the egg…. Aur Uske baad Ramzan?”

And like this the class would progress, with Ramzan actually explaining the recipe.

Now, Mrs. Philips, now almost 80 years old, had a very fixed routine every evening. After a glass of Sherry, Ramzan would serve her dinner at exactly 8.30 pm and she would retire at exactly 9.00 pm to be tucked into her bed by Ramzan. For Ramzan & I, this was a bit of a problem. The “Night Show” started at 9.00 pm and we needed to get to the cinema hall at least by 8.45 pm to get tickets. Mrs. Philips went by an old “Grandfather Clock” – an antique piece in her hall. Whenever Ramzan & I wanted to go for a “Night Show”, Ramzan would push forward the needle on the clock by half an hour so Mrs. Philips actually got her Dinner by 8.00 pm and was put to bed by 8.30 pm.

I lived in the “Civil Lines” area of Allahabad, in an outhouse of Mrs. Philips 100 year old Bungalow. The area was full of the old Aristocracy of Allahabad. My neighbors included Dr. Harbans Rai Bachan (Father of Amitabh Bachan, the Bollywood super star), the Mullas (Cdr.A.N. Mulla, awarded Mahavir Chakra posthumously, achieved fame when he went down with his ship the INS Khukri, which was hit by a torpedo from PNS Ghazi, a Pakistani submarine in the 1971 War); and Dr. Rudra (Professor Emeritus of the English Department of Allahabad University).

Dr. Rudra was actually from Bangalore and was Miss Varkey, before marriage, from one of the Keralite families living close to my Grandfather’s place in Benson Town. Dr. Rudra used to organize a “Shairee” or recitation of Urdu Poetry once a month at her home and I was always invited. At these I met some of the best Urdu Poets. Firaq Gorakhpuri was a regular. He was very popular and was often compared to Mirza Ghalib, the great Urdu poet from Delhi in the 19^th. Century. His actual name was Dr. Raghuvir Sahay, and he was HOD of the English Department of Allahabad University. I also heard Harbans Rai Bachan whose poetry was used in so many Hindi Film Songs. Another interesting Urdu Poet was Tom Alter, the Anglo Indian who usually played the role of a British Officer in so many movies including Richard Attenborough’s biopic on Gandhi. For an Anglo-Indian, his command of Urdu was amazing!

Though I hardly understood half of it, these soirees really opened me up to the beauty of the Urdu language and the fantastic poetic imagery only Urdu could provide to Shairs (Couplet Poems), Ghazals and enrich Hindi Film Songs.

The amazing thing I noticed about all this old Aristocracy, which included the families of Navin Dutt and Sanjeeb Sircar, was their total lack of any snobbishness or airs of superiority. One day, Dr. Rudra said to me: “Babloo, take off and give me your sweater”. It was quite a ragged one with many holes.  A couple of days later she came to my very humble home and returned the sweater fully darned by herself. The attitude of these people was far removed from the arrogant and egoistic way the novae riche behave nowadays.

From my Central College days, I had been smoking Grass or Hash and using Bhang – all derivatives of Cannabis. Now I had started trying out slightly harder stuff. Mandrax, was then freely available from most friendly Pharmacists, who did not even ask for a prescription for the Scheduled Drug. It got me very high and induced intense feelings. I started liking to drop a couple of Mandrax Tablets and watch Hindi Movies. I would get fully absorbed in the movie empathizing with the hackneyed melodrama and shedding copious tears in the weepie parts.

Bhuvan Malaviya had once eloped with a girl and got secretly married. Her family somehow traced her out and had forcibly taken her away. Bhuvan filed a Habeas Corpus petition which came up in court soon after. Bhuvan was wondering how he could convince the Judge. We suggested he drop a couple of Mandrax and get emotional in court. This he did with conviction – crying copiously and dramatically. Threatening to kill himself, he snatched the paper cutter from the writers’ desk (which was made of plastic and quite blunt anyway).

The Judge got irritated by this drama and called the girl and asked her if she really wanted to go with Bhuvan. She replied in the affirmative.

The judge pronounced his decision running through the verbal decree: “Take her away. Take her away. What a nuisance? Clear the Court. Next Case”

I got married in 1976 and my daughter was born in 1977. With a baby, my music gigs had to become fewer, though I did perform at least on New Year’s Eve each year. Also I had to leave my job in Geep Flashlight, where I still had a clerical designation and salary of only Rs. 380 per month. While Geep was just “next door”, my new employer’s office was in Mutthiganj, about six kilo meters away. So, I had to cycle to work at Mithra Prakashan, a magazine publisher where I got the slightly better designation of Junior Advertisement Executive. Also, I had to travel occasionally and toured Punjab and Western UP extensively.

When my dad retired and left for Chennai in 1975, he was given, due to his rank, an IAF Transport plane to cart all our domestic things to Chennai. The plane was an ageing DC-3 Dakota. The last item to be loaded was a heavy granite wet grinder (manual) also known as an “Orral” in Tamil. But when the pilot taxied to take off, the tail of the Dakota failed to lift. The pilot brought back the plane and the “oral” was taken out. As I was going to stay back at Allahabad, it was given to me. I had just started to cook, or learn to cook for myself, but I did not have a need for it. I did not yet know how to make those South Indian favorites – Idli and Dosa. Besides, Radhey Pehalwan had got me the Sandstone Grinding Sill from the Suleim Saraai Bhang Shop and I was getting more used to this as I used to grind Masalas. Of course, I also used it to grind Bhang by hand. The “Orral” was pushed into a dark corner of my small two-room outhouse.

When my wife found it, she took it out and washed it clean and placed it in the tiny “verandah” in front of my door. Next door was the family of the Regional Transport Officer. His office was just next door. They were from Gorakhpur and his wife spoke only Bhojpuri, a native, rural Dialect of Hindi. The next morning, my wife was surprised to see the “Orral” garlanded with flowers and Turmeric powder and red ochre Kumkum applied it it. The RTO’s wife had thought it was a Shiva Lingam! This lady became a good friend and taught my wife to speak, not Hindi, but Bhojpuri.

By 1979, my wife wanted to immigrate back to South India. Also, we needed to go to Chennai and be with my mother. Dad had moved back to Delhi on a post-retirement Defense Ministry job.

 Mom was staying in the garage portion of Dad’s house as the main house had been leased to a Pharmaceutical Unit. Though she had been an expert swimmer, ball room dancer and car driver in her younger days, now a paralyzing disease, Multiple Sclerosis, was slowly eating her away. However, she kept encouraging me for my music.

I used to visit my aunts in Mylapore area regularly and I used to cross a store while walking up to my aunt’s house. It was a music store selling cassette tapes and vinyl records. At that time these were the prevalent music media. He had a Show Window which displayed a few musical instruments. Dominating the show window was a full size Double Bass.

This was the first Instrument I had played in a gig, albeit for a very short time as substitute, at the New Year’s Ball in the Gidney Club in 1966. I wanted to acquire the Double Bass on display and asked my Mom to help me.

“Find out how much it costs”, she told me.

Tentatively I entered the shop. “This Double Bass … ?”

“Yes, yes, yes” said the harried looking shop owner.

“Is it for sale?” I asked. “Yes, yes, yes,” he said again, but added “will you really buy it?”

“If I can afford it” I said. He said, “Wait, wait”, and disappeared into the store room. I could hear him rummaging around in the store, looking for something. He returned after I had waited quite some time with a pink piece of paper. It was a pawn broker’s receipt.

“Gentleman,” he said. “This thing has been in this window for the last five years. You are the first person even to enquire the price. See this pawn receipt. It was pawned to me by a musician who played on Cruise Liners.”

I saw the receipt. It was for an unknown “D’Souza” and was made five years ago. The pawn amount was Rs. 600.

“I have added a Bridge which was not there. It cost Rs. 75. Also I put on piano strings – just for the display. Someone told me that you may not be able to play it till you get real Double Bass strings made of CatGut or Nylon….. Tell you what, pay me Rs. 675 - the original pawn ticket value plus Rs. 75 for the bridge and you can have it. I only want to get rid of this monster occupying my show case”. I got Mom’s approval and bought the Double Bass for Rs.675.

In Chennai, I caught up with Schubert and Rubenstein, sons of Henry Daniels a music director in the Tamil Film Industry. He was the assistant to another well known Film Music Director MS Vishwanathan. Between them they introduced Rock and Roll music into the Tamil Industry. Their songs were rendered on the silver screen by two leading comedians – Chandra Babu and Nagesh, both of whom were expert dancers. Several other actors danced to their vigorous punchy tunes including, yes, Jayalalathi, the Chief Minister of Tamilnadu.

Henry Daniels, a dedicated musician had named his two sons after the celebrated musical geniuses Schubert and Rubenstein in the fond hope that they would follow him as musicians or music composers and directors in the Film Industry. To us they were simply “Schuby and Ruby”!

In spite of his family connections and dad’s training, Ruby never really picked up the Violin which was his father’s main instrument. Schuby, on the other hand, had some talent, but considered playing for Tamil Film Industry as “infra-dig”. He wanted to play Rock. The first time I had seen him as a tall lanky Violinist swaying and playing with a Band called W.A.F.W.O.T. The acronym stood for “What A Fucking Waste Of Time”! Some years later when he was addicted on Brown Sugar / smack or raw Heroin, he had to perforce look to the music industry for work and money to fund his habit. Though his father had passed on a long time ago, he was able to get work in the highly unionized Tamil Film Industry only because of the respect his father’s name still commanded.

During my three months in Chennai, Schuby took me to the Opium Den. It was located right in the middle of the Mandaveli Bus Stand and was run by a real Chinaman. We smoked opium from a “chandu” a bamboo pipe with a small cup in which the opium was roasted by a spirit lamp. This experience would later lead me to smoke Heroin.

After attending to my Chennai affairs we moved to Bangalore in early 1980 with my mother.