Profile: Shubha Mudgal; Divided Diva

India Today, May 31, 1999
May 31, 1999

PROFILE: SHUBHA MUDGAL
Divided Diva

This classical singer is a success in the realm of popular music, drawing fire from the spirits.

By Namrata Joshi

Manu Sharma with parents As her car comes to a halt at the red light, grubby street urchins rush towards her in excitement. They are great friends with the ever-smiling didi, who regularly passes them 50 bucks, enquires about their health and chides them about their silly pranks. There's this easygoing and affable manner about Shubha Mudgal. The Hindustani vocalist, doesn't live in the proverbial ivory tower of classical music. Instead, she'll hold an impromptu singing session for you, explain the intricacies of a certain expression and even get you to befriend her ferocious-looking dogs, Papla and Ranjha, who she claims come to hear her sing the minute she starts tuning her tambura. Before you realise it she has drawn you into her little world, quite effortlessly.

It is this accessibility perhaps that makes the classical- trained singer successful in the realm of popular music. The sari-bindi-kajal image might seem a trifle incongruous on MTV and Channel V but that natural candour and loads of attitude do not. She might get a thunderous applause for a jugalbandi with the British pianist Nikki Yeoh but can also make teenagers swing to her beats of Ali more angana. Now Mudgal is back in the pop circuit with Virgin Records' much hyped Ab Ke Sawan, the title song of which has already climbed to the number two slot on MTV's countdown show, MTV India Hitlist.

The most distinctive aspect of Mudgal's singing is her voice: metallic, strong, full-throated. It's never sugary-sweet, never prettily perfect, but always power-packed. According to Mumbai critic Amarendra Dhaneshwar, "As a classical singer she has a good enunciation and projects the taar shadaja (upper tonic) very well." Ever the consummate performer she has mastered the art of reaching out to people. Appreciation has come from the audiences, sponsors, music channels and recording companies. "Her brand of music which is a fusion of Sufi, pop and classical is one of the best things to have happened to the music scene in a long time," gushes Kalyan Sundaram, director, programming and talent and artiste relations, MTV India.

The purists, however, are not all that impressed. "Her pop sounds very unmusical," says Dhaneshwar. Quite often Mudgal has been brushed aside by the cognoscenti: she is seen as a star first, a classical singer later. Some also question whether she is a classical singer at all or just a "light classical artiste". "She had the makings of a good solo singer. But it is difficult to mix pop and khayal; you have to give up one of the two," says Shobha Deepak Singh, director, Shri Ram Bharatiya Kala Kendra.

Mudgal hit the circuit in the late '80s. Along with Shruti Sadolikar, Ashwini Bhide and Veena Sahasrabuddhe, she was regarded as one of the more promising classical vocalists-a promise that is now often questioned because of her heady liaison with unceasing publicity, money and the market.

Not that it bothers Mudgal. "The classical world is snide about money and fame. I can't reject them nor am I bound by them," she says. She doesn't feel she's taking a big risk by moving into the pop circuit. "It's a way of getting to know my voice." Nor does she see pop as sleaze. "No music can be bad so long as it is creatively satisfying and I can sing it unabashedly in front of my 15-year-old son," she says.

Pop gives her a "wider reach" and also the opportunity to experiment and improvise. She loves to flit from Kabir, Tulsi, Meera and Sufi poetry to the rock-and-roll beats of Ab ke Sawan. Her outgoing nature and infectious sense of fun make her game for new things which is reflected in her constant experimentations. Mudgal has also been a prolific composer. She won the national award for the best music direction for the documentary Amrit Beej. She did the soundtrack for Mira Nair's film Kamasutra and also gave the score for Rajan Khosa's Dance of the Wind. She has composed for dancers like Aditi Mangaldas and Sonal Mansingh and for ballets like Meera and Krishna Katha of the Shri Ram Bharatiya Kala Kendra.

Her unorthodox attitude found an expression in her personal life when she walked out of her marriage with Mukul Mudgal, elder son of Vinaychandra Maudgalya, about eight years ago. Her training has been as unconventional as her life and career graph. Music was not something she inherited. Her parents, in fact, were English literature teachers at the Allahabad University who were "besotted with music". It was only when she was in college that she decided to give vocal music a try. Unlike the norm, her gayaki doesn't stick to the style of any one gharana. She trained initially under the tutelage of Pandit Ram Ashreya Jha in Allahabad. Later, she moved to Delhi where she received guidance from Pandit Vasant Thakar. At the famed Gandharva Mahavidyalaya, she learnt from father-in-law Vinaychandra Maudgalya. She went on to broaden her repertoire with maestros like Pandit Jitendra Abhisheki and Pandit Kumar Gandharva. She was also trained by Naina Devi in thumri.

Mudgal has always been in tune with the times. Unlike other artists with their characteristic distrust for technology, she is fascinated by it. A gadget like the computer is something she would not wish away. The Internet too is a stage for her. She has started a music website, www.raagsangeet.com, where you can gather information about music, listen to and chat about music. "I am absolutely bowled over by the feeling of sharing music with people across the world," she says. Her entire day revolves around music: teaching, rehearsing, composing and acting as a consultant to Music Today. On the cards now is a pop album for Rajshree Music and two classical albums for Magnasound. A two-month-long tour of the United States is also in the offing. And she hasn't ruled out composing for commercial Hindi films either. But who would she want to playback for? Madhuri Dixit? Her eyes twinkle and the ready smile switches on: "I am glad you thought of her." M.F. Husain make way.

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