A mere shadow of her former self: The singer on stage

It was like waking up after a blissful night of love when Gita Ghatak started off her much-awaited solo recital with Tomar sur shunaye je ghum bhangao (Rabindra Sadan, August 18). Things were falling into place, albeit with a little trepidation that every new recital brings along. And that’s exactly when the things started falling apart. All of a sudden. Without any premonition.

The very second song (Barata peyechhi mane mane) started showing cracks in the voice. Her confidence level dropped sharply. For the first time in her colourful career, Ghatak was seen singing with mnemonic aids both aural and textual. Such a drastic reversal of audience expectation does not often happen in the otherwise listless Bengal music scene nowadays.

Yet she fought on, negotiating her artistic sensibilities and commitment with a declining performance standard. And a responsible audience stood by.

Once that breathtaking first half passed off, Ghatak started emerging out of the cocoon and the rest of the evening went as good as it got. I would not say the initial hitches left altogether.

Most of the time the singer remained a mere shadow of her former self. Her endeavour to present a rhythmic version of Ki ragini bajale that she learnt from Indira Devi Chowdhurani was an idyllic ride all right, but to say the tunes were off would be an understatement.

Things improved with Ektuku chhoyan lage, laced with anecdotes. The next number, Rate rate alor shikha was a thing of beauty. Labanye purna pran, coming right after, transported us to an altogether different world. This supreme song of love coming of age was endowed with creative glides, lifting the ecstatic mood to starry heights.

That amorous mood stayed on with Aha tomar sange. Ghatak, by then back in her element, was caressing each note with such earnestness that one felt blessed to be in such company.

Again the mood was disturbed. Barin Majumdar of Tiyasi, who put the show together, diluted the gravity of the evening by inviting some contemporary singers to the stage.

Ghatak seemed unperturbed as she went along charting the course of love in the numbers she has mastered.

I cannot agree with her style of erratic scansion (for example in Amaar paran laye); sometimes it really jars to find a bi-syllabic word broken into fragments, yet I cannot stop wondering at her comfort level and power of communication.

She is always fond of taking liberties with the strict regimen of notebooks. She swears by her mentors and this individualistic streak marks her out among a whole generation of singers who are yet to find a voice that they can call their own.

She signed off with E parabase rabe ke in free rhythm. With Kanishka Sen’s diffused lighting embracing the backdrop that Majumdar imaginatively created, the overall effect was awesome.

Biplab Mondal was reliable on the tabla, so was Anjan Basu on the esraj. Sound effects were rather unnecessary. And I am still trying to figure out why on earth Gita Ghatak needs a keyboard to accompany her. If she needs a drone, a tanpura will suffice.

Will the singers please spare us the pain of tolerating this absolutely un-Tagorean musical instrument?