A group of 13 students from FLAME University in Pune recently arrived in Calcutta after travelling for 36 hours by train. They had a single ambition — to understand the story of one of India’s most misunderstood instruments, the harmonium. Over a week, they fanned out across the city’s workshops, repair sheds, concert halls and bazaars and conducted 23 interviews with people intimately connected with this musical instrument. The project was part of FLAME University’s Discover India Program, which sends students onsite to encounter India’s living cultural traditions.
First, they visited Pakrashi and Co. where third-generation harmonium manufacturer Suvojit Pakrashi spoke about the origins of the instrument. He explained that it came to India as a church organ and was adapted with such thoroughness that it is now impossible to imagine Indian classical music without it.
The story of this completely handcrafted musical instrument is incomplete without its makers. In cramped rooms fragrant with lacquer, glue and old wood, artisans demonstrated the painstaking process of reed-fitting. A craftsman with 35 years of experience said, without particular bitterness, that he does not expect his children to remain in the trade. Questions about continuity surfaced repeatedly. Nowhere was this more apparent than in Lalbazaar in central Calcutta, an important centre for harmonium production. Here, harmoniums are assembled from parts made by artisans at home and sold at lower prices.
For a bespoke instrument made from scratch, you need to visit a workshop like the one in an otherwise unremarkable lane not far from Rabindra Sadan. Jhankar has been around for as long as 76 years. Here it takes more than a month to put together a harmonium from scratch and most customers are spoken of as friends.
The pandemic dealt a significant blow to such karigars or artisans. Sales dropped by roughly 40 per cent and never recovered.
After meeting those who build the harmonium, the students wanted to meet those who use it. They met with classical vocalist Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty’s student Gourab Chatterjee. He explained the technicalities, told the students the story of the harmonium’s long road to acceptance and an analogy that stayed with them: the harmonium’s bellows function as lungs, its reeds as vocal cords and its keys as the precise articulation of intent. Singers instinctively feel at home with the instrument, he said, because it breathes the way they do.
The fieldwork resulted in a documentary, a research report and an academic
presentation. But most importantly, the
students came away hopeful that they
had created an enduring record of a precious tradition.