Balls to tampering

Raju Korti
A favourite refrain of the Aussie cricketers -- apart from compulsive sledging and getting into on-field fracas -- is to let other cricketing nations never ever forget that they play their cricket "the hard way." At Cape Town, playing against the Proteas, they showed they are a more talented side than we all know them to be and added a new dimension to that sporting spirit.

Cameron Bancroft (File grab)

On-camera Bancroft was caught red handed tampering with the ball, using some sticky substance. At 25, Bancroft is the junior-most member and had the blessings of the bigger deities in the side including captain Steve Smith. Like most errant people, the "hard playing" Aussie cricketers admitted that what they had done was wrong, apparently with no remorse. That is not even belated wisdom because more than the regret, it was the nonchalant demeanor of the skipper that came through more clearly.
The International Cricket Council (ICC) will now go through the motions of imposing a one-match ban and docking 100 per cent of Bancroft's match fee. That, of course, is little commentary on the damage to Cricket Australia's reputation. While former players across the globe and fans have gone frenetic in branding the team as bunch of cheats, what comes to the mind immediately is what would have the cricket's apex body done if it were to be a player from the sub-continent.
Merely admitting the guilt is not enough. Bancroft has obviously been used by the team and will be the likely scapegoat. Smith is too precious to be left out unless the Australian cricket board acts tough like the West Indies Board did with the team's big shots. The contention by Cricket Australia's CEO James Sutherland that a committee will be appointed to probe the incident is ridiculous and bureaucrat-ish when it is an open and shut case -- with Bancroft and Smith confessing to their guilt before the Match Referee Andy Pycroft. Even more funny was Sutherland's refusal to admit ball tampering as cheating. So Smith continues unless his dormant conscience wakes up.
When competent players resort to dirty tricks, it reeks of low confidence. Recall how Greg Chappel, in 1981 instructed his younger brother Trevor to bowl underarm with the last bowl to deprive minnows New Zealand a well deserving victory. Chappel is still considered by many as among world's top batsmen.
The Aussie batting and bowling is not weak by any stretch of imagination. What made them resort to such unsporting tactic? To win at any cost or not to lose at any cost? Either way it is reprehensible. The reference to ball tampering invariably brings to memory Englishman John Lever's mischief during the 1976 series against India where he used Vaseline to get more shine on the ball. With that he got the ball to swing prodigiously and made the life of Indian batsmen miserable. I recall the animated debate we college-going friends had in which the focal point was why did Lever have to do that when he was troubling the batsman anyway with his normal swing.
Interestingly, all those accused of ball tampering in the past have been big names -- Imran Khan, Waqar Younis, Inzamam ul Haq, Michael Atherton, Stuart Broad, James Anderson, Chris Broad, Peter Siddle, Faf du Plessis (ironically, now skippering the current South African team), Shahid Afridi and our own Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid.
In my conversation with many cricketers, I have found out they have scrappy understanding of what is the law on ball tampering or what constitutes ball tampering. Under Law 41, the ball may be polished without the use of an artificial substance, may be dried with towel if it is wet, and have mud removed from it under supervision. All other actions which alter the condition of the ball are illegal. These are usually taken to include rubbing the ball on the ground, scuffing with fingernails or other sharp object or tinkering with the seam of the bowl.
The umpires are responsible for monitoring the condition of the ball and must inspect it regularly. When an umpire has deemed a player to be guilty of ball tampering, five penalty runs are awarded to the batting side, and the ball has to be immediately replaced with another matching the untampered previous ball. If agreements laid out before the series, a batsman can be permitted to choose from the  selection of balls in various stages of use. A bowler guilty of ball-tampering can be prohibited to bowl in that innings. Additional sanctions can be brought in as ball-tampering is considered a serious offence. The captain may be equally penalized as he is responsible for the conduct of his players on the field. Smith has compounded his guilt by being a partner in the crime.
Well, we all know by heart now that the Aussies pride themselves on bring fair and square. But I suspect Bancroft didn't scratch his thick hairline enough to come out with an unverifiable explanation. If only he had told the umpires that he was putting his hands in the pocket to scratch his own balls!

The Prince Aga Khan that I saw

Prince Aga Khan (Pic courtesy www.adkn.org)

Raju Korti
If spirituality is uncovering the best in you, His Highness Karim Aga Khan would be the right mascot for the thought. In Mumbai yesterday, the 81-year-old fourth Imam of Shia Ismailia sect (called Khojas) attended several religious congregations. But that's a very constricted description of the man who has been working close to sixty years with a credo that is refreshingly different from the other dogmatic sects of his religion.
As someone who has catalyzed institutions and programmes that have responded to the challenges of social, economic and cultural change, Aga Khan presides over a progressive global, multi-ethnic community whose members comprise an astonishingly wide diversity of cultures, languages and nationalities in Central Asia, Middle East, South Asia, sub-Saharan Africa, Europe and North America.When I first met him in 1979 and later in 1983, Aga Khan was a Prince first and His Highness later. In my two audiences with him and his charming wife Sarah, the Prince -- a British-French business magnate once billed as among the world's ten riches royals by the Forbes -- showed no signs of a religious legacy inherited from his father. He seemed to have the knack of striking a spontaneous conversation with even strangers and I was one of those. What struck me, of course given my perennially depleted finances, here was a royal who ran a $800 million empire but did not rule over any geographical territory. What also struck me was although believed to be a direct lineal descendant of Prophet Mohammed, the Prince and the spiritual leader chose to tread a liberal line that doesn't in the bit appears compatible with the dogmatic Sharia-swearing Wahabis and Deobandis.
As a newbie journalist sent to cover a mass marriage meet under his aegis, I saw my chance to get to know him. The Prince had set up a precedent which by even modern standards then was revolutionary. In a religion where women are covered from head to foot to protect them from needless gaze, here was a Harward-educated man who even with his religious seasoning, passionately subscribed to the philosophy of openness.
I recall at the venue beautiful young women, all decked up and ready to choose their life partners in an open forum and with no duress. As a bachelor who stood on the altar of a sacrifice called marriage, I forgot my assignment and instead kept looking at the young ladies who were dressed and made up to kill. A gentle pat on my shoulder from the gracious host brought me out of my infatuated reverie. Dressed in an immaculate suit, looking handsome with a disarming style, stood Prince Aga Khan.
There was a reason why Aga Khan was more than hospitable to me. He had been spoken to about me by Dadi Balsara who is better known to the mosquito-harassed Indians as Odomos Man. Balsara himself was an enterprising Parsee who could be a true definition of a liberal. Little wonder, the two were friends.
His wife in tow, I accompanied Aga Khan to the stage from where he blessed the couples. After exchanging a couple of pleasantries, he asked me if I was married. When I said I wasn't, he winked mischievously and said "look at the bevy of beauties there. If you like anyone, I will espouse your case, stressing the word "espouse". There was no question of saying "yes" even in joke.
For one who institutionalized social and cultural transformation, Aga Khan seemed to jealously guard his privacy. "I am very careful who I hang around with. I do not believe in showing my emotions in public and avoid sitting with women if I realize the Press is trying to link me with them. Even here in Paris, I do not prefer crowded places like theaters. In the past, my mail has been stolen and my servants bribed. Even some of the close friends I trusted, took private snapshots of me in my home and sold them to magazines. I have been threatened with blackmail on the telephone. I guess that's a price one pays with my kind of status but I it has also made me realize the sanctity of privacy."
It is remarkable that unlike Imran Khan whose marriages have become public fodder, few tongues wagged when Aga Khan married the second time (and divorced), somewhere in the late nineties. It was easy to understand that his ascension to Nizari Ismaili Imamat was not just on the basis of his religious inheritance.
His face lit up when I asked him about his affection with the horses."I operate the largest horse-racing and breeding in the country (France). Buying and maintaining a stud farm is an abiding hobby."
"You don't drink because you are a Muslim, how come you are comfortable with horse-racing which is patently gambling," I probed him. "My belief is that the thing which distinguishes man from animals is his ability to think. Anything that impedes this faculty is wrong. That's why I have never touched alcohol, not because that's a religious diktat." I believe it is this rationalism that has won him numerous decorations, honorary degrees and awards from institutions and nations across the world for his exceptional efforts and contributions to human development and improving social conditions.
Aga Khan was His Highness because of Queen Elizabeth II. He became His Royal Highness courtesy Mohammed Reza Pehelvi, the Shah of Iran. The Shah was thrown out in the Iranian revolution in 1979. The Prince in various denominations remains very much in the saddle.

Of Dalits and Dalit leadership

Raju Korti
It requires some resilience to be status quo-ists for centuries together. Dalits -- a fashionable coinage for the oppressed -- who claim to be the sole legacy of Babasaheb Ambedkar's vision, seem to suffer from an incurable syndrome. As someone who has seen and covered Dalit politics from close quarters for decades, I can vouch for the "victim" mentality that has been systematically indoctrinated into their minds by their self-seeking leaders.
Charity and purge should ideally begin at home but Dalits refuse to come out of their age-old mindset of being the oppressed which one concedes was indeed the case long back. But today, even in rural areas it is not as much as it is being made out to be. But then, you need a political agenda that thrives on social disparity.
My grudge is not against the Dalits per se but their gullibility and their refusal to rise above themselves. Prakash Ambedkar, Babasaheb Ambedkar's grandson, admitted to me once that the Dalit movement today is not as strong as it was prior to the 1980s. Implicit in that observation, unwittingly though, was self-indictment.
Excepting a minuscule minority that feebly attempts to reform and educate this class through their writings, the Dalit movement actually lies in tatters because its leaders have never seen beyond themselves and their selfish political gains. Just check out on the factions that dot their landscape -- Republican Party of India (Ramdas Athawale), Bhartiya Republican Party-Bahujan Mahasangh (Prakash Ambedkar) Republican Party of India (Ganar group), the Khobragade group, the Kamble group and other splinter groups. Even the Congress and the Janata Party don't have those many factions. Among these, the Athawle group probably doesn't feel as oppressed as the others as it has allied with the "communal BJP". The highest common factor is all these leaders are economically well-heeled while the people who vote for them blindly in the fond hope that one day their lot will improve, languish in poverty and neglect. Having seen this scenario for years now, I am amazed how anyone can be such foolish suckers and remain escapist to the real ills that plague them.
I have seen some of these leaders address their followers like kings holding durbaars, speaking from the luxurious chairs of their palatial houses. The refrain? "Upper castes have been marginalizing you for ages. Take the battle to their camp. Reservation is your right. Never lose sight of the fact that you are the oppressed." Although a remedy worse than the disease, it has worked well for the leaders who swear by their cause. The only reality it has translated into is while the leaders live a life of opulence, the poor Dalits live in a hallucinated world that these are their guardian angels. Where is the time to reform when all your energies are expended in internal wranglings? To fight social injustice, you need to be united first.
In most cities, 40% or more Dalit population lives in slums. These are controlled and nurtured by the slumlords of the RPI. That itself is a telling commentary. Reservation and individual leaders have ensured Dalit representation across all political parties. It is the easiest vote bank to sway and perhaps the main reason why the Dalit movement has been badly dented in the last two decades. The other political parties have beaten the Dalit parties at their own game. Add to this, the Dalit parties do not have any other card except the "Victim Card". The truth is in this era, this posturing has benefited only the political leaders and the poor Dalits only getting what is termed in slang as "babaji ka thullu."
The provocation for this blog is the clashes and the subsequent "bandh" in the wake of the Bhima-Koregaon battle fought 200 years back when none of these leaders were even born. One may buy the argument that the Dalits chose to side with the forces of East India Company against the battle with the Peshwas because that was a platform to get even with the upper castes. But to commemorate that victory now is born out of the same "victim" mindset.
A (Dalit) friend of mine who has broken this shackled thinking and risen on his own merit told me this and I am quoting his words: "The Dalit leadership is gripped with factionalism and selfish leadership with lack of vision which is why major parties do not even bother to offer any sops to them". His Dalit friends blame him for falling prey to upper caste thinking unmindful that the middle class Dalits are passive on the socio-economic front.
In Mumbai's Siddharth College, the RPI factions are fighting tooth and nail for its control not for any lofty reason but because of its prime location and the fact that educational institutions are sure-shot money spinners. The same goes for the Indu Mills land. And all this when a party that espouses the Dalit cause -- Bahujan Samaj Party -- seeks to contest municipal elections though it does not have any corporator in Mumbai. It is easier to find a panther in Sanjay Gandhi National Park than a Dalit Panther in Mumbai. Ironically, some of its leaders like Namdeo Dhasal and Ramdas Athawale made peace with Shiv Sena after crying communal politics
If the Dalits are keen to be a part of the mainstream, they must opt for merit rather than using the crutches of reservation and shed their inferiority complex. Their own leader, Babasaheb Ambedkar had said that reservation should be dismantled after 10 years. But as long as they do not shed their underdog mindset, they will remain their own worst enemies. You can go on blaming other castes and communities for your ills but that will yield nothing. The best way to fight social justice is by being a part of the society and not by being out of it.
United they don't stand, divided they remain fallen. The Dalit movement has sunk. Hook, line and sinker.

A requiem for Shashi Kapoor

Raju Korti

The Shashi Kapoor I saw and would like to remember.

My first meeting with Shashi Kapoor, way back in 1982, was at the most oddest of venues. He had been invited to inaugurate the Great Golden Circus, which in those throwback days, was a popular draw. I was particularly curious to know how he could handle three shifts in a day with the ebullience that was his hallmark. Only a few days before I had asked Dev Anand how actors like Shashi Kapoor could handle such crazy work schedules and he had diplomatically said: "I sleep at 10. May be Shashi has fine tuned that craft."
I recall Shashi, the youngest of the film industry's first dynasty, was dressed in white pyjamas and kurta which he told me later was his favorite attire. After cutting the ribbon, he came and sat next to me in the front row. Within a flash, I whipped out my visiting card and flashed it before him. "Meet me around 9 once I reach home", he told me with that impish smile that could have been saved for posterity in any museum. He was accompanied by his brother-in-law Charni Siyal who also extended me an invitation with a smile that one reserves as protocol.
As it happened, I got tied up with my work and reached his place at 10. He himself opened the door in the same clothes. His eyes were blood-shot and it was obvious to me that he had downed a few pegs. The fault was, of course mine. He seemed to have given up on me and now I had broken his binge. I could see he was struggling with his indignation but the suave person that he was, he let me in. The first thing he told me: "Yaar tum patrakar log raat 10 ke baad mat mila karo, sab utar jaati hai,."  I apologized but stayed put.
He opened up right away. "You know we in the Kapoor khaandaan have two weak points -- eating and drinking" he said helping himself to a plateful of deep fried pakodas. I am better. (Brother) Shammi doesn't wait until dark. He gets cracking the moment shoot is over," he said with the same toothy smile that film critic Baburao Patel unfairly described as 'dog's fangs'.
Seeing that the conversation was going completely off track, I just transported him to his Dharamputra, Prem Patra and Char Deewari days of the 60s. The smile became even radiant on his handsome face and then he was rattling away in that casual, breezy style that seemed to be tailor-made for his persona.
The child artiste that one saw in Shree 420 and Awaara was very much in evidence as he took a dip into nostalgia with the same child-like innocence and spoke at length how the cinematic expression had undergone a ferment in the decades that followed. " I adapted to those changes well", he said and seemed to be proud of it. He wasn't far from the truth. The innocent charm of Shashi Kapoor of the 60s had given way to the kind of dudes that one sees today. However, all through this transition, he retained his trade-mark smile, although a string of inanities like Chori Mera Kaam, Gautam Govinda, Shankar Dada, Apna Khoon and Maan Gaye Ustaad, Phaansi, Salaakhen, Chakkar Pe Chakkar, Raahu Ketu films that he acted in the 70s were eminently forgettable. A few big banners like Trishul, Kala Patthar, Deewar, Kabhie Kabhie and Namak Halaal ensured he was neither out of sight, nor out of mind.
He was very much kicked up about his in-house productions Junoon and 36 Chowringhee Lane and described them as "great films" even if that sounded like patting his own back. He was also fiercely possessive of Merchant Ivory Productions and his own Prithvi Theatres which according to him were his robust attempts to keep the Prithviraj Kapoor torch alive. He recalled Rajesh Khanna and Sanjeev Kumar as the most versatile contemporaries, singled out Mohammed Rafi for lip syncing some of the most memorable songs for him and his pairing with Nanda as the best thing that happened to his acting career.
I met him again in 2001 when the first question I threw at him was "You were such a handsome man once. Why did you allow yourself to bloat like this?" "That's the characteristic of the clan", he replied, with absolutely no regrets. As my mind went back to that old meeting, I felt he probably had a few more pegs just because my interaction with him had sobered him down.
The only faint element of pain that I saw on his face was at the mention of his wife Jennifer Kendal.
I have forgotten much of the casual conversation I had with him then but for someone who "died" a couple of times following rumors, Kapoor held forte for long. So it took time to sink in that the handsome man with that mischievous smile is no more.
Shashi Kapoor is dead. Long live Shashi Kapoor.   

Yes,I am a Janeudhari Bamman

Raju Korti
In a country where preaching and sermonizing comes more easily than practicing, the storm over Congress Vice President Rahul Gandhi being called as "Janeudhari Hindu" is just another political fodder. His party spokesperson went ballistic, refuting that the young leader entered the Somnath Temple in Gujarat, (where else?) as a non-Hindu. Just the kind of cud we all like to chew in the social media until the next one appears on our plate.
Janeudharis are those who wear the sacred thread after the "Upanayanam", sometime after attaining puberty. Like many I went through this ritual and this what I was told by the priest performing it: The three strands of the sacred thread has symbolic meanings. A bachelor is supposed to wear only one thread, a married man should wear two and if the married man has a child, he must wear three. They symbolize three debts of a man which must never be forgotten: The debt of one's teacher, the debt of one's parents and ancestors and the debt of the scholars.
I have been wearing the Janeu since then but in hindsight, I suppose I would have repaid these debts anyway even if I were not to wear it born as a Hindu/Brahmin. Many of my friends, patently anti-Brahmin, would poke fun at me calling me a "Bamman" and the thread as a symbol of my caste superiority. A lot many friends would needle me saying that non-vegetarian food had become costlier ever since Bammans started eating it (A point well taken). That most of them eventually married off their sons and/or daughters to a "Bamman" is quite another story. I never took offence because I never practiced casteism. but the concept of debt quite appealed to me. Having been indebted to many people for various reasons, it wasn't difficult at all to adapt to the idea.
For long, I have seen people raise the caste bogey based on the discrimination by upper caste -- and there are others apart from Brahmins -- in the past. With the passage of time, Brahmin-bashing became the name of the game. So much so that most Brahmins today fight shy of acknowledging themselves as one. There is, of course, no denying that caste prejudice has happened in the past, but I refuse to accept that it obtains today to the extent it is made out to be. It is just one of the divisive cards that nefarious politicians use to further their selfish ends. The sad truth is even apparently the sane fall for this trick. On the social media circuit, it has expectedly boiled down to a Janeudhari Vs JNUdhari battle.
Those who debate how and whether a mere thread can symbolize or symbolizes a vision, should ask their wives why they wear the Mangalsutra which should then be interpreted as albatross around the neck. And then I know so many who criticize the thread and its concept but wear one themselves. Symbols are just symbols. It is the concept that should matter and I do not see anything objectionable in that unless you want to use it as a spanner to yank out the social screws. Everything else is just noise with ulterior motives.
Being called a Bamman doesn't offend me in the least, but it is high time we found out who are the real casteists. I am sure the statistics will shock you. Yes, I am a Bamman. I may not be proud of being one but I am not ashamed of being one either. Let Brahmin be a taboo word.
Merit has got me thus far, not caste. 

Finally, it is Pakistan

Raju Korti

Toss up between Musharraf or Imran

I have always believed that for all the sadistic and pernicious streak evident in their demeanor and speeches, Pakistani politicians are far more predictable and less chameleonic than their counterparts elsewhere. Two parallel events as recently as yesterday buttress my argument. One, the open support of 26/11 mastermind Hafeez Saeed by former Pakistan dictator Pervez Musharraf and the other a word of praise for Modi from cricketer-turned-politician Imran Khan. That both are adversaries is not germane at this point.
After presiding over his country's army for years and riding rough shod on all democratic institutions, Musharraf, who has had slew of cases against him, lives a palatial life in Dubai. In one of his many enlightenments in self-exile, Musharraf has admitted that Saeed "is involved in Kashmir" and supports the LeT to "suppress the Indian army in Kashmir".
Ever since he has fled to Dubai, Musharraf has not been able to reconcile to the thought of himself without his military undies. The politician in him has quickly latched on to an apparent scenario where the strident clerics are rapidly gaining ground. Saeed is anticipating a drastic change in the durability of country's parliamentary configuration with Imran Khan likely to queer the pitch. If a coalition government with a radical right is represented in large numbers, India can kiss the chances of rapprochement good bye.
Saeed has sensed his best chance and has approached the United Nations to drop the "Global Terrorist" tag against his name which has understandably rankled the United States because it doesn't want this configuration to go topsy turvy. It is here that Musharraf becomes more than obvious. Having licked enough from the American asses during his rule, he was also instrumental in putting Saeed in a house arrest. A house arrest in Pakistan simply means that terror masterminds can work their devious minds with state hospitality. Musharraf who had been vehemently denying the army's support to "non-State actors" now realizes he and Saeed can leverage each other.
Having announced a grand coalition of 23 parties, Musharraf is desperately angling for another of his crooked stint and with Nawaz Sharif's PML looking at a possible electoral rout, chances are might he might well be in the reckoning but Imran may prove to be a thorn in his flesh. If the Parliamentary representation of radical Islamic parties goes up as dramatically in 2018 as it has been in a recent bye-election, it can only be conjectured what it will do to the Army and the battles it has been fighting. It is possible that these parties may remain divided and their influence might be checkmated by PML but that is subject to Sharif's party managing to retain its toehold. In all this maze, what should be of consequence, particularly to India, is what if Saeed becomes part of the next government.
Now for Imran Khan. The Tehreek-e-Insaaf leader has publicly admitted that he admires Modi as a politician and "in the last three years, he hasn't heard the Indian PM ranting against Pakistan". In the cacophony of political choruses, Imran has chosen to play with the straight bat by saying that "we fought three wars with India and learnt nothing. We still indulge in proxy wars." His contention that resumption of cricket ties with India will serve as some sort of a confidence building measure sounds good in theory but poor in practice. Cricket is just another turf for proxy wars.
This is what I wrote about Imran Khan in my blog in Sept 2016:
A notable characteristic of Khan's persona that I have noticed is the opportunist and turncoat in him which surfaces as and when political circumstances suit him. His electoral plank cleverly tries to strike a balance between religious dogma and liberal economics which is a red herring for the poverty and many-other-things-stricken Pakistan.
And this is what I wrote about Musharraf in April 2013:
For his sheer propensity for the holier than thou, one needs to hand it to former president and general Pervez Musharraf. If you ignored the man's chameleonic character, Musharraf, who fled Pakistan to return after four years of "self imposed exile", has proclaimed with his usual bluster that "I am among those people who think of the country and the citizens." His precise timing to return to his troubled homeland shows just that, albeit in a contradictory manner.
Behind the army demeanor, there lurks a hard-core politician. Aware of the rebuffs that dot his path, he has already met with a few. His nomination papers were rejected for his acts of "reason and corruption", a clause Indian electoral system could well draw from. But howsoever Musharraf wants to propagandize his love for Pakistan, no one is hoodwinked into believing that and the man has landed back on his home soil because he hardly had any option. He is obviously trying to make a virtue of his compulsion.There are a string of cases lined up against him. Having trampled all institutions during his cleverly manipulative regime, he is everybody's burden. Elevating such a man at the helm again is fraught with the consequences Pakistani people may not try to experiment with.
Take it. This is a do-or-die battle for Musharraf. He will be consigned to the dustbin of history if his outfit fails to come to power.Musharraf and Imran have their political compulsions within the framework of their ideologies. However, at the end of the day, it is Pakistan. Musharraf or no Musharraf. Imran or no Imran!  

Manjiri Kelkar, classically yours

Manjiri Kelkar: Pic courtesy Pragati Korti

Raju Korti
History has an uncanny knack of reverting to haunt you. More so, if it relates to music and something as soulful as Indian classical music. A masterpiece performance by vocalist Manjiri Kelkar at a friend's residence yesterday took me on a music odyssey imprinted by a school of music handed down in legacy by Moghubai Kurdikar. But the history first.I was occasioned to meet the maverick exponent of the Jaipur-Atrauli Gharana Kishoritai Amonkar (Moghubai's daughter) way back in 1982 when she was in Nagpur for a concert. Until then my proclivities lay with the Kirana Gharana -- which had the pedigrees of the maestros like Gangubai Hangal and Pt Bhimsen Joshi -- mainly because of my family roots with them. Kishoritai's rendition that day woke me out of that operatic stupor and widened my horizons to other schools that parallely captured my imagination and soul.Like some of the other classical wizards, Kishoritai wore classicism as a badge and was loathe to giving interviews but dame luck was on my side that evening. She agreed to speak to me. That she did for two long hours, especially presenting a delightful case study of how she got into the skin of modifying the Jaipur Gharana performance by fusing and reconciling it with features of the other Gharanas.
From whatever I recall of that intense interaction, Kishoritai was particularly critical of the belief that schools or Gharanas of music determine or constrain a singer's technique. She styled herself on using her school as a base but built variations around it, relaxing the link between rhythm and note.
Moving out of the rigid posturing like some of her illustrious contemporaries, she was insistent that musical education should be conducted, emphasizing the importance of enabling students to shift beyond repetitive techniques and learn the tools that allow them to improvise on their own. True to the dictum that charity begins at home, she would listen to her own performances to analyse and improve her technique.Thirty five years down the line I could see and hear how strong an edifice that was when Manjiritai  delivered a performance that Kishoritai would have been ecastatic about. Emotion and spirituality punctuated her singing as she took on those classical notes with the same aplomb that I saw Kishoritai did that evening. To me, it was a dialogue with the divine, an intense focused communion with the Lord. It was a sublime act of the same "sadhana" (medium) to attain "sadhya" (destination) that Kishoritai spoke so passionately about.
Two things struck me about Manjiritai's performance. Her commitment to her roots and the "bhaav" (expression) of the composition that delectably and effortlessly meandered through Raag Lalita-Gauri and Nat-Kamod and her congruity with her accompanying artistes. She would take brief pauses to egg them on and appreciate with a smile when they returned her fervour note-to-note. A confident artiste never runs down her accompanying performers through oneupmanship. Aptly, she consummated the concert with a bhajan.

Kishori Amonkar: Pic Raju Korti

She has a tonal quality that treats the audiences with a melodious opulence and it is easy to discern why. Her transition from an able disciple to a Guru in her own right is tempered by being a performing artiste at heart. It was this finesse of equilibrium that Manjiritai straddled brilliantly, reinventing her classical grammar as a learner and performer. Little wonder that she is keen to take this protracted legacy in the same strain that she has fostered in the last 20 years.
That she has retained the soul of her Gharana and tried to innovate outside it is the best tribute she can give to her Guru.Absolutely down to earth, Manjiritai admits to be a nervous starter but the manner in which she raises the crescendo belies that. The applause that she received after every rendering was received with a humble bow of the head and a beatific smile. Clearly, with music as her refuge, she was able to crawl between the notes and the audience's sensitivity, reiterating the fact that classical music was, is, and will always be the mother of all music in India.
Manjiritai has been blessed with an exemplary legacy. Her first Guru Appasaheb Kanetkar received his granding from Bhurji Khansaheb, son of Alladiya Khansaheb.  She is carrying that torch forward and how!