The person at the other end is breathless. She says, "I am sorry, I was on a bike and could not take the call any earlier. I have just returned from the ashram. May I call you in a bit?" It's not a long wait.

We know that Parvathy Baul, this year's Sangeet Natak Akademi awardee, lives in Santiniketan in Bengal's Birbhum district. She had told us earlier that she is setting up an ashram for those who want to learn Baul sangeet and understand the Baul tradition.

When we finally reconnect, the first question we ask her is probably the most obvious one. She is the first female Baul artiste to receive this honour. But does this award mean anything to her, considering that she is a sadhak? A moment's silence and then she replies, her voice warm, "As per our sadhana, which emphasises on atma upalabadhi or self recognition, it is immaterial. But this is a social recognition, and one that encourages an artiste. Also, it means that the Baul tradition has been recognised."

Parvathy's voice has just a hint of that raspy languorous quality that it takes on when she is performing. She switches from English to Bengali effortlessly, and while speaking in both languages, the words seem to flow straight from the heart. And yet, there must be an invisible sieve between heart and tongue, for how can someone speak so measuredly, with such temperance of speech and manner, and that too sustainedly.

As her voice pours into our ears, we remember her from her many live performances and videos - ektara in one hand, a duggi strapped to her waist, singing out, " Achhe Shyam aunge Rai aungo heliya" or "Tai ami Gour bole daki".

She taps her feet expertly, the trained Kathak dancer that she is. Her seemingly interminable jatas (dreadlocks) touch the floor as she swirls like one possessed, even as her insistent song reaches a fevered pitch.

"But I am not the first Baul to receive an award," she interjects, breaking the spell. "Purna Das Baul was awarded the Padma Shri, the fourth highest civilian award."

Like many of us, Parvathy's first encounter with the folk genre happened when she heard a Baul fakir singing onboard a train. She says, "I was headed for Santiniketan - I was a student of Visual Arts at Kala Bhavana - with my father. The song transported me to a different world. I felt deep within that this was my vocation."

She remembers how she had to convince her father - an engineer with the Indian Railways. "I did not say much. I only told them that this is my way forward and it is best to let me follow my path."

Her spirit was indomitable. " Amake ghore atke rakhata ektu mushkil chhilo Baba Maar pokkhe... It was a bit difficult for my parents to keep me home-bound... There was no stopping me once I had made up my mind about something," she says.

Parvathy has been given the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award for her contributions to the Baul genre. "Writing songs is a part of Baul sadhana," she says. She remembers how her guru, Sanatan Das Baul, would compose songs in the afternoon, when everyone would be sleeping, and how her second guru, Shashanko Gosain, would string together an impromptu verse during a satsang and then sing it. Gosain was then 97 years old.

Parvathy is loath to call Baul a folk genre. "My compositions come from my inner feelings - which is true of every poet," she says. "A baul, in my opinion, is a person who takes philosophies down to the masses in simpler language."

Speaking of languages, how important is language to Baul songs, considering that these travelling minstrels have to go to different parts of the country? She replies, "Language is very important. Baul song is also known as sabdo gaan."

And what does sabdo gaan mean? How would we translate it accurately for an audience beyond Bengal? She hesitates and then says slowly, "A foreigner named Robert Sahoda had translated it as 'spoken wisdom'. But then, why do we need to translate everything? Let people learn," she says persuasively.

Parvathy is currently putting together an archive of Baul songs. She has collected these from India and abroad. It has involved piecing together incomplete songs. She says she is doing this for posterity, so that researchers and those interested in the Baul tradition have a reference point, quite literally.

Baul is an oral tradition that one learns from the guru. "One has to stay with them, listen and learn," she says. "Also, Baul songs are primarily narrations, not songs," she adds. And that is probably why much of the songs are not documented. Says Parvathy, "I cannot listen to songs of Shashanko Gosain because they have never been documented."

Parvathy says that Gosain was also extremely shy, cringed from any kind of publicity or attention.

The story goes that one time when Akashvani wanted to record his songs, he agreed but then took fright. And on the appointed day, feigning illness, did not turn up for the recording at all.

We ask her about the content of contemporary Baul songs and if she writes new songs to suit a time when there is growing intolerance all around, a time when political parties are redefining faith. She leaps to claim her response. "I do not want to talk politics," her voice rings calm and clear. "Baul song is not about divides. We see God in every being, hence there is no difference."

She adds, "Also, the word tolerance or intolerance - however you put it - are incomplete words. It means you are tolerating someone. We Bauls believe in acceptance. Otherwise, no one can tolerate another person beyond a point."

Acceptance is at the root of the Baul tradition. Parvathy accepted the tradition and devoted all her life to yog sadhana. She has travelled far and wide, taken Baul culture to every nook and corner of India and abroad. "In all of India, the only state where I have never performed is Jammu and Kashmir," she says.

She is currently preparing for the international women Baul festival that is going to be held in her ashram in Santiniketan early next year. "It is the first time that India is going to host such a festival," she says.

It has been a long day for her. She has to be up early the next morning and leave for her ashram. It is 12 kilometres away from her home in Santiniketan. As we wind up our chat, she says, " Amra ekhon dhaan bunchi. Eta ashram sebar moddhe pore... We are sowing paddy now. It is a part of our service to the ashram."

A correction. July 23, 2018
In an earlier version of this report, we had said Parvathy Baul is a Sahitya Akademi awardee. She is in fact a Sangeet Natak Akademi award winner. The error is regretted.