The flavours of Rajasthan are simply irresistible. Be it its tasty cuisine, the sandy dessert-dunes, ethnic culture, colourful clothes, folk art and music or the Ranthambore National Park which is a major wildlife tourist attraction with its famous tiger reserve — this eastern province never lets down its periodic visitors trickling in its fold. Rather, it deftly paints a kaleidoscopic canvas from where it isn’t easy to take an awestruck gazer’s eyes off.
Another such rare, interesting gem from its hidden treasure-trove rears its head out in the name of mashak, which is a traditional musical instrument made of complete goat-hide. The air-chamber of the device is fully formed of a goat’s body with the animal-skin and the limbs shaping up the quaint blowing instrument. One of the openings in the leather-pouch is fitted with a short piece of bamboo with a valve through which the wind is blown in. Another opening is provided with two bamboo pipes with reeds. One of these pipes works as a drone while the other with six holes on one side, precisely on the lower end, is applied to generate the harmonious tunes. By the description, it is well-understood that mashak basically functions as a wind-instrument. The player first blows air into the chamber and the inflated goat-skin is kept under one arm to exert a light amount of pressure so that the air is expelled out of the reed-pipes. Incidentally, after blowing and inflating the bag, the player gets an interval to sing. It’s painstaking and requires a long enough time-span to hold the breath.
Historically, it can be traced that the Naths and Jogis in Alwar, Bharatpur and Sawai Madhopur districts of Rajasthan, where the Ranthambore sanctuary is located, play the mashak to produce a recital of ritualistic and devotional music. While Khanjari (tambourine) with its tinkling sound of bells comes as an accompanying instrument to the mashak.
Other than creating music, mashak can double up both as a water-carrier or an air-container for purposes of drinking as well as forming a floating support to cross rivers, also known as bhishti. In fact, mashak is a Persian word, meaning a skin bag.
60-year-old mashak instrumentalist Sugannathji travelled to Kolkata from Ajmer after enthralling a select audience in Agra. “We boarded the train and reached here last evening. We have been invited as a guest performer and our entire tour is being sponsored by event organisers,” proudly shares the moustachioed man sporting a dab of vermilion tilak on his forehead and carrying a chimta in his hand. “You know, what I play today, was actually played by Meerabai, centuries ago,” he says beamingly. To the uninitiated, Meerabai was a Hindu mystical princess and a devotee of Lord Krishna from Rajasthan. She was one of the most significant saintly figures of the Vaishnava cult of the Bhakti movement.
With his son-in-law Pratapnathji, who’s a skilled mashak player-cum-singer and a teenage grandson Semandar Yogi, effortlessly shaking the Khanjari in tow, the Rajasthani old man seems to be in great mood to showcase his regional craft and music. “Yeh kala bahut puraani hai. (This is an eons-old craft.) Yeh satyayug se chala aa raha hai, jab Bhagwan Ramji iss dharti par jiveet the. (It has been in practice since the era of Satyayug during the reign of Rama, the king of Ayodhya),” informs Pratapnathji, resting a while in between his non-stop renditions. He confidently confirms to play the mashak for five hours at a stretch without a break. The lean figure standing in one corner of a crowded book-launch event at Kolkata’s ICCR, continues to play and sing, despite the chatter of people, clicking of the cameras and the clinking of crockery in a high-tea session. The world flows by in its own rhythm, while the mashak player oblivious of its constant buzz and noise, perpetually blows his pipe and renders his bhajans in between. When this correspondent requests for a brief conversation, he politely obliges. Taking a few moments’ respite from his music, he sits down to talk.
Even if the convention of playing mashak is old enough to call it a vintage instrument, yet the Rajasthani visitors ascertain its prevalence as an important feature in every elaborate soiree. “We get regular programmes and tour around frequently,” volunteers Sugannathji. His eyes have turned turbid with age but his spirit hasn’t rusted yet. Attending recurrent public functions and ceremonial dos in aristocratic households, plus repeatedly responding to encores forwarded by an assembly of avid listeners and discreet patrons keep their calendar busy all the year. “Yeh kala viraasat mein humko mila hai. Dada, pardada bhi yehi karte the. Chaar pidhiyon se chali aa rahi hai. (This craft is a familial legacy handed down to us by our forefathers. We are the fourth-generation descendants to have embraced this unique craft and are also teaching our children to keep the art alive and kicking forever),” reveals Pratapnathji.
Although many pristine art and crafts from the past have ebbed away in time, owing to social apathy, lack of archiving and pervasive promotion, the current tribe of few and far between mashak players reflects otherwise. “It isn’t true that we are fading into a forsaken zone. I can still vouch for the fact that even today’s youngsters are receptive to our community music and enjoy its indigenous strains. Aajke naujawano ko bhi yeh lok sangeet behad pasand hai. Unko bhi hamari kala lubhaati hai. We are witness to their regalement,” insists the hoary-haired patriarch, Sugannathji. Within the state of Rajasthan alone, the mashak-music persists to be in great demand. From Alwar, Sawai Madhopur, Bikaner, Jaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, Chittorgarh to even as far as Punjab pradesh up in the north and the capital city of Delhi, the mashak-magic has penetrated different borders and touched a million hearts.
The local folklore, myths and unknown accounts seep through an array of songs, which a vocalist at ease beads on a single string. “Maharaj Bhartrihari ki kahaani, Raja Gopi Chand ki kahaani, Shivkatha, Bheru baba ke bhajan, Devnarayanji ki katha aur srishti ke vichitra rachna, sabhi kuchh yahan paayi jaati hai. (From Maharaj Bhartrihari — who was the ruler of Ujjain in the 1st century BC before he renounced the mundane pleasures and abdicated the same in favour of his younger brother Vikramaditya and went onto become a faithful disciple of Guru Gorakhnath — to his nephew King Gopi Chand of Bengal to Lord Shiva’s miraculous tales to Baba Bherunath’s bhajans, the temple of which is situated in the Jakhera village of Nagaur district in Rajasthan to the martial epic-narrative of Devnarayan — an ancient Gurjar warrior from Rajasthan, who is believed to have been an incarnation of Lord Vishnu and worshipped as a folk deity — and the wonderful creations of God — everything is chanted like a holy hymn to droves of engrossed onlookers),” enlists the folk artiste in a breath, fixing his pagdi (head-dress).
But the relevant question which pops up, keeping the frowning concerns of the conservationists of endangered species in mind is the procurement of animal leather for musical reasons. “Yeh koi aparadh maana nahin jaata, itna hum keh sakte hai. Iss par koi paabandi laagu nahin hai. (See, the custom of playing a mashak is not legally prohibited here. So, the question of abandoning the craft doesn’t arise at all),” they announce in chorus. Earning a decent `25,000 per contract, the mashak-artistes sound overly satisfied with their source of income and an encouraging shower of praise that they gain as a bonus in exchange of their music.
Though they haven’t yet heard about the bauls (wandering minstrels) of Bengal, who travel in the trains with an ektaara (one-stringed instrument) in hand, strumming up folk tunes and singing melodies of the soil, yet Sugannathji expresses his desire to meet a baul on one of his train-journeys to the culture-capital. “Yatayat mein mulaqat kabhi bhi ho jaayegi. (If God is willing, we’ll definitely get to meet each other someday or the other),” he hopes before parting. We wish to be all ears for that scarce, soulful yugalbandi.