Bhairavi to Bhoop - Interview with Namita Devidayal

Dhondutai’s ‘Little Kesarbai’ grew up to be a prolific writer, a tenacious journalist, a good mother, a lovely friend and a singer. Part of hers is this, part – that and so on …
 

Namita Devidayal clad in a pink sari looks just like my next-door neighbor, when she passes by with a warm smile you feel like talking to her – if you have had a taste of Aftertaste and entered The Music Room, you would love to continue with the journey. She graduated from Princeton University and right after coming back to India, every morning without failure, she used to board the Borivali train to reach Dhondutai. There was a time when she aspired to evolve as a professional singer and be the inheritor of the Jaipur Gharana.
 

Kesarbai’s raga-renditions, Dhondutai’s Kabir Bhairav, Bhimsen Joshi’s Abhangs, Kishori Amonkar’s Raag Bhoop fill the air and slowly lift you up on a different plane – call it communion with God or spiritual tryst … Namita averred that her experience was out of the world, the purity the music-room offered, the regular interaction with her Guru, the sublime music – all spun a web around and by the end what remained pulsating was only the music.

“To me, this book is, in a way, my tribute to what I wasn't able to do musically” and she went ahead to win the Crossword Popular Book Award (2008) for it. The Times of India scribe lives in Mumbai and still feels the same way – “the music is really in me and I am really committed to it”.
 

Namita has spoken here about her books, the stories she narrated within the covers, her short attention span, her unwavering love for music and more.

~ 

The Music Room is a journey from the contemporary to the traditional, from the modern to the conventional – it arouses curiosity to know how you managed to present the entire gamut so flawlessly, given that you came from a westernized background.

I think if we look deeper within ourselves, we all are made up of many identities and are a confluence of so many things – past and present, tradition and modernity -- especially those of us who come from a society in transition like India. ‘The Music Room’ helped me explore these identities as I navigated my way through an ancient world that had been an inexorable part of my growing up years. It was not very difficult because I’d had an insider’s access to this space. And at the same time, my outsider perspective helped me look at it with curiosity and objectivity.
 

My second question is again about your first book. The Music Room won the 2008 Vodafone Crossword Popular Book Award. The stories are beautifully put together and it’s a great read. You quoted earlier that the novel is ‘not just about a room or a physical space where you learn singing; it is about a mental space or a kind of metaphor for a space where I would enter’ – could you please tell us a little more about it?

Yes, the music room was never just a room. The story started out in the room in which my teacher taught me and therefore became an appropriate title, but it was actually a metaphor for a space which you enter when you enter the world of Indian classical music. It actually creates a parallel universe where the outside world begins to fade out, the more you allow yourself to surrender to the magic of the art. It is the closest one comes to meditation.
 

‘ … the whole book just flowed out of me. I wasn't really thinking about structure, yet, the structure has turned out to be so beautiful … seamlessly from a passage in a very contemporary context into something similar that happened between Kesarbai and Dhondutai’ – is it that the conceptualization of the book was an ongoing process, with the music sessions, you were subconsciously building a story as well, in bits and pieces, which later on you threaded together?

Actually, I wasn’t building a story, but telling many stories. The reason they all came together is because there is such extraordinary connectivity in the oral traditions like music. What was sung hundreds of years ago, or the process of teaching 100 years ago, is the same today – those same secrets were imparted in a princely court, in a musician's home or in a contemporary class. As for the bits and pieces, I tend to have a short attention span so I would flit from one anecdote or story to another, and then found a way to weave them all to create this timeless tapestry of past, present, and different places, all bound together by the thread of music.
 

Dhondutai, Kesarbai, Alladiya Khan – all become such living characters once you go through the novel! The heart keeps craving for more about their lives and their music. Would you please narrate a few stories that you heard about or experienced during your music classes?

There are just too many for me to describe. But one of my favorites is how Kesarbai used to secretly smoke a cigarette every day and also how Dhondutai used to secretly eat eggs to increase her stamina to sing! The other one I love is about Alladiya Khan and how the king of Kolhapur realized that he was ruining the maestro’s children by allowing them to be raised in the palace. So he actually insulted them so that they would leave the comforts of the palace and pursue music more seriously, which they did. These are some of the many intriguing ways in which music has been kept alive.
 

Let’s now focus on Aftertaste – your second book. The Indian baniya community - outside the bounds of IIM-MBA – with their own alternate economy, banking and networking system – has come to life through your smooth writing. You said that you spent some time with one of your uncles to know about the tricks of the trade – before you set out to write the book. How was that experience?

It was great fun. This uncle of mine is steeped in the Marwari tradition. I visited him in his old office haveli in Old Delhi, where he showed me things like the intricate account books maintained by every marwari with the help of his munim or accountant, and how every single paisa was accounted for. He also showed me the chorkhana, which is a section inside a cupboard, which opens into a secret passage – what they used to use in the event of burglaries and riots. He shared wonderful stories about the way in which business was conducted, based on trust and honor. He also told me how profit, above all else, was the driving imperative behind every baniya businessman.
 

You have earlier, compared Marwaris with the other communities – ‘the Marwari businessman has an obsessive and unabashed relationship with money, much like a Bengali has with books or a Malayali with communism. Unlike, say a typical Punjabi, a Marwari is never interested in showing off his money, only in making more and more.’ Well, have you noticed any such traits in your family, or for that matter, did any of your family features made way to the fictionized world of Aftertaste?

Yes, I definitely saw many of these traits in my extended family and again I had an insider’s access into this world which I wanted to wickedly explore through the story of the Todarmal family. I think many members of the extended family will recognize either traits or even glaring similarities to people, but of course no one character made it into the book.
 

Some critics compare Mummyji in Aftertaste with Tilo – the protagonist in The Mistress of Spices (Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni) – Tilo adds the magic touch in her spices and enhances it all with her ‘hater gun’ (wonder of her palms) and in your book Mummyji tries to depict the sweets as something magical – though Mummyji is not exactly someone revered and looked up to. Any comments about the resemblance talked about?

Gosh, I confess I haven’t read Divakaruni’s book so I cannot comment. But I think it is quite understandable to use an Indian woman and food as a strong metaphor for something more.
 

You gave a quick reference to Anu – a minor character in this book – who learns Hindustani Classical music from Dhondutai – you struck the chord again and the music still goes on. Which one out of these two books do you like more, which one is more close to your heart?

I liked both books equally, because both are powerful reflections of the worlds I have inhabited. But of course ‘The Music Room’ will always be special in that way that a memoir is special because it is so deeply personal and you are one of the characters in your book. Also, that was like a first love and obviously that unconditional passion has touched a chord with many.
 

And how exactly do you walk the tight rope of journalism, writing, singing and the other multifarious activities?

It is extremely difficult and I am always wondering which activity I can drop so that I can have a more intimate relationship with my writing. A writer really does have to retreat for long stretches into an inner world to get the most intensity out of his or her work. Apart from journalism and singing and other things, I am a mother which is in itself a full-time job!
 

You spoke about Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali, Khaleid Hosseini’s Kite Runner, the political satire by Mohammed Hanif – A Case of Exploding Mangoes – what kind of writing you prefer the most and what are you reading at the moment?

I can’t say there is any one kind of writing I like the most because I get drawn to such a wide variety. Like, right now I am in a curious crime fiction phase, having been mesmerized by Steig Larsen. I am currently reading Benjamin Black, who happens to be John Banville in another avatar.
 

So are you a fan of Tom & Jerry? Are you a TV buff?

I absolutely adore Tom and Jerry. Especially the background score! No, don’t end up watching much television, always prefer snuggling down with a book.
 

Could feel the flavor of Shobha De in your book Aftertaste. What was the inspiration behind the book and what next? (Reader’s question, submitted by Nidhi Chandna)

The book was inspired by my longstanding desire to tell the story of the darker side of the great Indian family. I was a bit tired of the Karan Johar type depictions of shiny happy families because what I was seeing around me was something more ambivalent. I used a bania family where money became the destructive element. Also because most Indian families are shy to talk about money, even though it may influence, and even control, so many of their relationships.

~

The ‘Mithai Family’ unfolds layers and layers of bitter dynamics – Base is money, the all-controlling power, and emotions loosely hang around as Super-structure. The other book, Music Room, was considered as an Outlook Book of 2007. From Music to Mithai, we look forward to what’s in the offing.

 Photo of Namita Devidayal by Kavi Bhansali