Kahe koyalia karat pukare

 

A koel serenades the queen.

-Brian Mendonca

Listening to Bilaskhani Todi on the 6.30 a.m. to 7 a.m. slot on AIR FM Goa this morning was so elevating. The plaintive voice of the singer - coming in at the 15th minute of a 21.40 minute piece - seems to feel and sound so right when you are on this side of middle age.

Why must the koel cry when so much of life is over and only the evening beckons? Yet the sound of the koel is an invitation to do one's best. The singer of the raga seems to be having a conversation with the bird.

Legend has it that Bilaskhani Todi was composed by Bilas Khan, son of Tansen (1500-1586), on his father's death. In singing Todi, Bilas Khan was so overwhelmed with grief that he mixed up the notes and produced a new raga. The corpse of Tansen raised its hand in approval. Both Tansen and his son are buried side by side in the same grave at Gwalior. (Moholkar) I visited the site when I was travelling in Madhya Pradesh. 

The alaap is long. The day is before us. It sets the mood of reflection and contemplation about one's life. One wants to be merged with the universe - and music is the medium by which to do this.

But that is sometimes easier said than done. One has to counter the demons in the mind as one heads into the sunset. Looming retirement can give one the blues. To counter depression at middle age one needs to focus on the things achieved thus far - not what could have been or might be. 

Somehow the anguish of this mental state is so beautifully rendered in the bandish, 'What reason is there for the koel to cry?' The ensuing lines develop this theme.

--------------------------

Watercolour by Priyanka Joshi from a translation of a Rajput miniature painting. Bilaskhani Todi by Ajay Pohankar. Updated 9/12/22.