Lessons along Ganga
Travel, I think, is a way to escape whenever one is feeling trapped. I can’t say whether I am a traveller first or a musician. But yes, both complement each other and are a part of my Bengali DNA. While I don’t need to name legendary Bengali music composers, let me remind you that Bengalis are avid travellers. Swami Vivekananda, too, enjoyed a close relationship with the Himalayas.
I can’t recall when the travel bug bit me first. I always wanted to travel, only I didn’t realise it costs money to do so. Thus, I joined an advertising company where I was creating jingles and ended up creating the famous one; “Bole mere lips. I love Uncle Chipps”. Later, I collaborated with Shubha Mudgal for “Ab ke Saawan” and “Mann ke Manjeeré” and gravitated towards Bollywood. In 2005, three films — Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi, Parineeta and Yahaan — for which I had composed music were released.
Work flowed easily, and somewhere the traveller in me took a backseat. But after PK, instead of basking in the success of the film, I decided to take a 100-day break and moved on an expedition towards the Himalayas, along with my friend Dhritiman Mukherjee. Despite having one of the world’s best wildlife photographers as a companion, we didn’t take any pictures, didn’t record anything. But on my return, I had a twinge of regret. There was a world out there which we had experienced, and there are so many people who don’t have the luxury to travel. I could have provided them an armchair travel experience.
Perhaps, this is where lay the seed for my six-part documentary, Songs of the River, which follows my non-stop cycling expedition from Gomukh in Uttarakhand to Gangasagar in West Bengal, covering nearly 3,000 km. But imagine trying to sell the idea of adventure sports to corporates. It was a herculean task, till I met Sangeeta Jindal of JSW group. She gave me carte blanche, and we were ready to roll.
Somewhere deep within this project was also embedded a personal loss. I had lost my father during Covid-19, and at some level, the making of the documentary was a coping mechanism and a way to handle my grief. But as my journey began from Gomukh and I reached Varanasi after my father’s last rites, I realised that I have been fortunate to journey along the Ganga and find my catharsis. But there are so many out there caught in a similar predicament who have not found closure. This was the birth of the idea Ananth Yatra. So I asked people to give me photographs of the loved ones they had lost. These later found a final resting place in Kolkata. Thus, what began as personal soon became universal.
If you ask me what is it that I discovered during my heavenly sojourn, the revelations have been manifold. For one, I encountered an India that you don’t see on Instagram. It’s an India that thrives on community feeling and sharing. Even in places like Bihar whose image is so distorted as an epicentre of violence, I saw sterling examples of community activities. As for the Ganga, which I discovered is the spine of our socio-cultural fabric, it revealed its many moods to me. I saw it as a therapist, a friend, companion, healer and the lines ‘when in doubt, go to a river’ seemed so true.
How has this 3,000-km journey along the Ganga changed me? While change is a gradual process, I think, it has changed me in countless ways. Why it made not just me to stop, pause and ponder but all the great singers and musicians who are an integral part of my documentary. I did not choose these singers only for their huge talent but also for what they are doing beyond music, which is so exceptional. Throughout the pandemic, Mohit Chauhan looked after hundreds of stray dogs. ‘Bombay’ Jayashri teaches autistic children. Not surprising, collaborating with them as I recorded — Mohit in an orchard, ‘Bombay’ Jayashri on a boat, and Kaushiki Chakraborty in a haveli in Murshidabad — my sound changed completely. As RD Burman felt, motion is music and would often compose in a car, I also realised the same and was composing in my head while cycling.
Music has a higher purpose. But that can’t be achieved through Bollywood music. Only the diverse range of independent music which India possesses in abundance can do so. For, film music is meant to take the character’s arc and the director’s vision forward.
Creating background score is more challenging than songs. While everyone has an opinion on a song, background score is only noticed by the director. In a way, less attention is paid to musical scores in India, which is rather unfortunate. But times are changing. For instance, many years ago when I composed for Madras Café, I insisted upon promoting just the score. Similarly, for October, we went to Russia just to record an instrumental piece, something hitherto unheard of.
I can’t pinpoint what is my process of creating music, except that it is a lonely world, primarily God’s gift, and you can’t learn beyond a point. Of course, unlike singers, composers are not fully understood or written about. My friends, like lyricist Swanand Kirkire, often ask me what gives me the courage to suddenly pack my bags and leave for an expedition, which too for me is a quest for music.
Luckily, I have always had my hands full. Right now, there is Lost directed by Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury, Mujib: The Making of a Nation, a Shyam Benegal film, and an untitled one by Vidhu Vinod Chopra.
Besides, from river Ganga, I have learnt another important lesson that it is the journey, and not the destination that matters. So there is no ultimate goal for me… my music is like a river, and I hope wherever there are listeners with an ear for music, they will resonate to my tunes. From Bollywood to which I belong, I have learnt the significance, and hopefully the art, of storytelling as I hope to tell stories through my songs. Just as I have told the story of India as the story of India through Songs of the River. When would I set off to tell another story of a mountain or a river…who knows. Maybe tomorrow. However, both my music and travel have taught me how to live in today.
— The writer is a national award-winning music composer (As told to Nonika Singh)
