A sip of piping hot tea to moisten your dry, thirsty throat. An occasional nibble at succulent jalebis. Or a frequent tuck into a plate of steaming hot samosas. Add to this, a rare, golden opportunity to witness a sitar virtuoso, a sarod exponent, a flautist, a vocalist or a tabla maestro waving their magical fingers or lending their vocal chords with full-throated ease to conjure up a nightlong engrossing musical session. Nothing could be more melodious, we bet!

Imagine Pandit Ravi Shankar dancing his fingers over the sitar strings or Ustad Zakir Hussain beating out a perfect rhythm on the tabla, Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia as heavenly as Lord Krishna with his murali or Ustad Amjad Ali Khan producing magic with his sarod strains. No other soiree on earth can beat this “rhythm divine”. And once upon a time, the sounds of these jewels’ music would reverberate within the walls of a homely mehfil. But can we dare think of such small customised concerts today instead of the usual elaborate conference or a gala festival, mounted on a magnificent scale?
A thing of the past indeed — every precious concept with a personal touch is fast fading in the current corporate world with a consumerist society. “We are living in an informative age where master musicians are easily accessible at the click of a mouse on the Internet. They can either be heard or seen on YouTube. But sometimes, we have to defy the rules and be different,” says Darshan Shah, founder-trustee, Weavers’ Studio Centre for the Arts. This Kolkata-based cultural organisation offered a perfect platform for an unforgettable “Saturday Night Fever” this last weekend. It began from 9 pm and ended at 5 am, the next day.
Hosting an all-night mehfil, this cultural centre brought alive the age old Hindustani classical music tradition. Situated at south Kolkata’s posh Ballygunge Place, the cozy music room invited a galaxy of eminent artistes within its fold to conjure up presentations both instrumental and vocal renditions, jugalbandis and solo recitals to a select circle of staunch aficionados, transporting them to the long-lost golden era of the erstwhile musical ambience of Calcutta, when nightlong soirees were a regular affair.
The performance card for the first mehfil included some well-known names. Accomplished santoor exponent Pandit Tarun Bhattacharya presented the flourishing tabla player Shubhankar Banerjee and classical singer Arshad Ali Khan, besides introducing the new-age upcoming talents Soumik Datta on the sarod, Arif Khan — son of noted tabla ace Ustad Sabir Khan — on the tabla and another budding tabla player, Asif Khan.
But how did the idea germinate? “One day, while having one of our freewheeling chats, we discussed the concept of resurrecting the good old classic tradition of mehfils (homely musical concerts) in the heart of Kolkata. We found two enthusiastic youngsters also on board — Kolkata boy Arif Khan and sarod whizkid, Soumik Datta, a non-resident Bengali from London,” Shah recalls. Arif fondly re-minisced how he frequently accompanied his father and eagerly looked forward to hopping in at a few of those evening soirees in old Calcutta’s Boubazaar and Shobhabazaar streets. Even the yesteryear royal aristocrats in these pockets would host mujras and mehfils. This culture was already there in Kolkata’s air, but had fallen cold with the evolving times.
“It’s like forming a single platform for avid connoisseurs to exchange thoughts amidst a star-studded constellation of performers. At the same time, a paramparik guru-shishya interaction, sharing of interesting trivia and experiences, imparting of taalim (training) and tips on relentless riyazes (practice), would be an added bonus,” Shah says.
For now, the mehfils will be slotted after every quarterly interval, but plans are afoot to extend the event to a much larger canvas. “It is an experiment. Let’s see where it takes us from here. But we won’t restrict it to winter. Most probably, the following session will be scheduled around May-June after Poila Boishakh (the Bengali New Year), then during the pujas and again in winter,” informs Shah.
“The nighttime is also conducive to listening peacefully to some enchanting ragas and fully experience their vibrancy and beauty,” adds Pandit Bhattacharya.
It’s true that the music culture cannot sustain in the absence of a whole-hearted sponsorship. Laments Shah, “That’s why we need supporters and big brands to pool in the money. People splurge on mindless movies or at malls but when it comes to listening to the geniuses playing music, they immediately tighten their purse strings. The public has to take the onus of ownership.”
These kinds of shows are cost-effective, as all the musicians pitch in, charging less and compromising on their usual rates. At the first mehfil, tickets cost between `500 and `1,000, with a flat 50 per cent discount for students. To keep spirits high and eyes wide open throughout the mehfil, a string of animated adda sessions was arranged during the intermittent breaks to throw light on the concert and offer instant feedbacks to the music being played, then and there. “This spontaneous real time response is what we musicians always yearn for. The loud noise of an overwhelming appreciation in the form of ‘wah-wah’s and ‘laajawab’s in chorus lend an impetus to the performing artistes to raise the bar. This is how the overall standard of a musical programme can in turn be elevated. So to reaffirm the similar purity of classical music, a prolonged concert is necessary,” Bhattacharya comments.
The santoor maestro adds, “Of late, I’ve been noticing a change of trait and style, especially in public performances. We have to condense and streamline our presentations, unlike when we used to perform earlier. We would space out our renditions from start to finish and never cause a dragging effect on the discreet listeners’ ears. A long time span is imperative to extensive intricacies and detailing in a classical recital before rounding off the performance,” he says.