Ace film musician Naushad had a favorite anecdote about Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali. When K. Asif, director of the immortal classic Mughal-e-Azam, was scouting around for a musician to render the now famous Prem Jogan Ban Ke in the lustrous Sohni raga, Naushad piped up with a suggestion: why not get the Tansen of the day to sing it?  Khan Sahib, as he is still fondly called, refused to hear of it. What an insult, he’d thundered, to his music. Ultimately, however, the doyen was induced by the film-maker. But that’s another story. 

RPG Enterprises’ archival series featuring old masters is a wonderful attempt at reviving the immaculacy of Indian classical music. A scion of the Patiala Gharana, the late Bade Ghulam Ali Khan was the son of Ustad Ali Baksh Khan, one of the principal architects of the Gharana. The young Ghulam Ali was tutored in music at the tender of seven when he learnt the sarangi under the expert tutelage of his paternal uncle, Ustad Kale Khan, who also schooled him in vocal Hindustani music. It is said of Khan Sahib that he would spend almost every minute of his day on his riyaaz leaving little time for eating and sleeping; such was his dedication.  

I wonder if anyone can truly pin down the ‘best’ of a maestro of Khan Sahib’s stature. But I do commend RPG Enterprises for trying. The first offering, a khayal in Malkauns establishes the insignia of the Patiala Gharana that is famously known to extol the pentatonic ragas. Richly adorned taans, ornamented bol taans and, more to the point, the expansive alaaps in the lower octave, make this recital all the more exclusive. Malkauns, said to have evolved during Lord Shiva’s famous Tandava, leaves a resounding impact on its listeners. Remember the evergreen Rafi-rendered Man tarpat Hari darshan ko aaj from Baiju Bawra? 

Purists, so called, may denounce the rather imposing Patiala School of Music for its excessive Baroque-like embellishments yet few could have breathed life into the Kaushik Dhwani khayal number like Khan Sahib. The night-time Bilawal scale-based melody omits the Second and the Fifth notes and yet, manages to sound full, like many of the Kalyan-based ragas. The maestro is at ease in all the octaves, even the extremely high ones referred to as ‘Atitaar saptak’.    

And who can forget ‘ka karoon sajni’, the ever-abiding Thumri in Bhairavi? Cine-goers, particularly Basu Chatterji film aficionados, may recall the Yesudas-rendered version in Swami. Few musicians, though, can match Khan Sahib’s evocative anguish while interpreting ‘aaye na balam…’

The album is a great listening experience, a sought-after collector’s item surely.