Among the Not So Great

Sunil-da — The Musician

He was always a musician, he was born into a family of musicians. Elder brother Anilda played on the sarod. Cousin Ardhenduda and brother played on surbahar and sitar. Sister could sing well.

In the early days, 1945-1953 or 54, he composed music for our Programmes of 1st Dec. He even composed a music for a “Junglee-dance” for the physical demonstration of Dec. 2nd. But this was a one time effort only. The music for the dances and dramas was beautiful, catching, not too classical, in tune with us and the times. It went well with the occasion. It was great fun watching him and his orchestra (elder brother Anil and Harit on sarod. Harit also filled in as tabalchi. Ashok and Runu on clarionette and flute and Debou and Manoj on sitar). Kanak played on the electric guitar and played an important role in Sunil-da’s orchestra. This guitar was to us, at that time (in the early 50s) a new unheard of instrument of music. It seems (to me) that Kanak and his guitar fitted in well into Sunil-da’s later music, whereas other instruments disappeared from the scene?! Sunil-da would even want Kanak around when he composed. Then there were the vocals. Most noteworthy being his own sister Minniedi and Tarit Chowdhury. A third voice, one that Sunil-da had a high regard for was Ravibala’s. Her participation unfortunately was very rare. But rare too was the pure timbre of her voice. Sunil-da played on the harmonium or piano, both of which he played with just one finger. We watched with admiration and un-understanding. To me it seemed miraculous how he just watched the dancer and produced the right, suitable music. (Sunil-da was a maestro on the sitar but did not play on it. The wrist, ill-set after the football accident, pained and swelled up if he played for any length of time.)

All these activities were (as I perceive) slowly eased out of his life. I don’t recall when exactly he stopped teaching — but why did he stop teaching?

All the years of teaching and composing told on Sunil-da. But, what really was the last straw was a mathematical problem. Its solution eluded many a mathematician. He too was wrestling with the problem. He had a feeling he was close to pinning it down — but it kept wriggling itself out, teasing his mind to near breaking point, his nerves tensed. The Mother then intervened. She told him to stop all mental activity — no maths, no chess even. She, as part of the cure, told him to come to pick up balls when she played tennis. She also told him to relax, go sit under a big tree. She said that a tree emanates a great deal of energy and it would help him recover. He used to, for a short period, go out for long walks to one of the Ashram gardens. Start was after lunch — 2 or 2.30 p.m. (Why he chose this unearthly hot time is beyond me). He, along with Gauridi and her sister, carried some tea and some eats, sat in some shady spot, had the tea and returned home with the dusk (godhuli) — an enchanting time in any Indian countryside. These short trysts with nature soothed his mind and nerves.

The Mother also gave Sunil-da some work in Le Faucheur, the garden by the river Ariankuppam. His botanical genius came in handy. He set to experiment. It seems he worked some wonders — produced seedless lady’s fingers, and some wheat, enough to make bread for the Mother. (At present Maheshwari working there has repeated the wheat growing in just a small patch.)

“One man’s loss is another man’s gain.” We lost a good teacher, but the world at large gained a great musician. As time passed Sunil-da seemed to retreat more and more from much of the outer happenings, drawn into some higher regions of music and maybe into other regions. He was all music and barely anything else.

What was his music? How and from where did it come? Who can answer these questions better than he himself. Better still the one who revealed to him the source, nay was the source, that swept him off in its deluge. Hearken to what he says about how his music was revealed to him. (The following is reproduced from Mother India June 1998 from Jhumur’s article):

Some twenty years ago I heard for the first time the Mother of our Ashram improvising on the organ. In the beginning the music seemed strange to me. It was neither Indian nor Western, or shall I say it sounded like both? The theme She was playing came very close to what we know as bhairon, the whole closely knit musical structure expanding melodiously. Then suddenly, notes came surging up in battalions, piled one on top of another, deep, insistent, coming as if from a long way down and welling up inevitably the magnificent body of sound formed and gathered volume till it burst into an illumination that made the music an experience.

Thus She revealed to me the secret of a magic world of music where harmonies meet and blend to make melodies richer, wider, profounder and infinitely more powerful. I have tried to take my music from Her.

My music is my labour and my aspiration for the Divine and what I try to convey through it are the voices of my inner experience.

My grateful thoughts are with Her who has been my Guide, Guru, Mentor and Mother. One day it was Her Light that sparked my heart, it is Her Light that has sustained its glow, it is Her Light that I seek through my music. If this music brings some comfort, some delight or some message to someone, I have achieved that for which She has placed Her trust in me.

Sunil-da was now solely preoccupied with music. He thought and lived music in exclusion of all else — but for his love for the Mother and Her’s for him. It was this two-way flow that buoyed and carried him through his life’s endeavour — to compose Her music or rather be a channel for Her music. For that he was grateful and full of humility towards the Mother. These feelings are amply reflected and come through to us, when we hear of such touching happenings as the four or five I recount, as I came to know of them.

Sunil-da’s studio where he recorded his music was just one of the rooms of his house. In the early days they just shut the doors and windows to keep out extra noises, and recorded. As time passed, a little more sophistication was added (equipment, instruments, etc.). But the room remained the room. When an idea to improve the acoustics was mooted, Chamanlalji was consulted. He, with some help and expertise, fitted up some blanketing for the walls and some other gadgetry, to improve the sound of recording. The floor was bare — so a suggestion was made, and his able assistant Victor wrote to the Mother. She was eager to help, and gave one of Her carpets. Now Sunil-da was in a quandary! He was reluctant to step on that carpet. He quietly changed the position of his organ so that he could circumvent the carpet and put his stool on a bare part of the floor.

Next came the question of cooling the room, at least to keep the musicians from sweating. Chamanlalji suggested installing an airconditioner. Then Sunil-da said: “Oh! what is a little sweat? But Mother has to pay for the electricity.” I don’t know if they could get round him.

In 1972, Sunil-da had the New Year’s music ready. The Mother had entrusted him with this work (some more details are given later). The Mother was to hear it in Her room. Sunil-da was there. Maggi and Nata too were called. After hearing the music the Mother was very happy and was showering Sunil-da profusely with praises. He was full of joy, but felt quite embarrassed. He looked this way and that and finally fell at Her feet — it seemed just to stem the flow of Her praises.

A few years back, a gentleman arrived at the Ashram. He went to the Samadhi. He knelt and bowed, prayed, but got up weeping silently. He looked around and spied Chamanlalji. He was a stranger to Chamanlalji, but somehow felt free enough to approach and introduce himself as a sculptor — by name Parasara (of some repute in the artistic circles). His tears were (it transpired) of a feeling of frustration and depression. He had heard and believed that Sri Aurobindo was an Avatar. Furthermore, he believed that along with the Avatar,

there came down artists (painters, sculptors, musicians, etc.) and he had not seen any as yet. The resulting frustration was too deep for him to bear. Could Chamanlalji help? Chamanlalji was on unfamiliar ground, but took him along to one of our artists, who was quite pessimistic and said: “There is not much art here.” Mr. Parasara grew gloomier than ever. Chamanlalji then took Mr. Parasara to Sunil-da the composer. Sunil-da, typically, said: “I am not a composer — I am just a receiver.” Mr. Parasara got to hear some of Sunil-da’s music. Then the two had a long talk (musician and sculptor). By the end of their talk, Mr. Parasara was overjoyed. He said: “At last my faith is restored. This (Sunil-da) is a great man, he is unique. He has saved my life.” Mr. Parasara was floored by Sunil-da’s music and also by his humility.

What did Sunil-da most cherish, strive for? A plausible and intelligent guess could be “Music.” A revisal of our thinking may not go amiss after the following. Once, some of his instruments went out of order, repairs were delayed and the date for the completion of the music was fast approaching. He (Sunil-da) in a moment of desperation and supplication wrote to the Mother: “Mother what do you want me to do? Things are not as they should be. As for me, I want you. This music and all else is yours. I don’t want any of these things. All I want is You.” Fortunately, the instruments got repaired soon after and the music got ready. (Sunil-da’s prayer given above in quotes is NOT the one he wrote. I have taken the liberty to write it, in my words, after having heard it from an admirer of his.)

Here is an exchange quoted from Sunil-da’s correspondence with the Mother.

J’ai une question à Te poser (I have a question to ask you):

J’ai souvent une sensation ces jours-ci, que c’est Toi qui a fait de moi un musicien — est-ce vrai? (I have often a feeling, these days, that it is You who has made of me a musician — is it true?)

Peut-être... (Could be...)

Si c’est vrai, est-ce que c’était prédestiné? (If it is true, was it predestined?)

Très certainement. (Most certainly.)

The following is the reply to a letter to the Mother, Sunil-da had written. I could not get to see the letter, but the reply is interesting and meaningful by itself. This is a free rendering into English of the reply written in French. I have tried to keep as close as possible to the meaning.

It is possible, that in a previous birth (life) you were my physical child (son). But, it is not that that has given rise to the deep emotion in you. It is your soul that has inspired your music. It is with your soul that I connect you when I talk of your music and that gets you in touch with your soul and also with me where I am always there at the centre of your being.

It is the intensity of this consciousness that makes you weep with emotion; they are tears of the psychic which dissolve obstacles and difficulties of the being.

The Mother

The Mother used to play on her organ on New Years at 0.00 hours. That was long, long ago. She continued playing until the late 50s, though not at 0.00 hours. In 1959 she asked Sunil-da to orchestrate Her New Year Music. Thus I believe She opened a new door, and he stepped into newer, higher regions. Later she gave him the theme and left him to compose the New Year Music around the theme. Then She wanted him to compose music to accompany Her readings of Savitri. He was thus gradually drawn deeper and deeper into the realms of Music.

How much the Mother relied on him, and to what extent She could work in him, and his response, i.e. receiving what She gave and his reliance on her, his surrender to let her mould him — are all beyond our normal concepts and values. To know and appreciate Sunil-da and his music, one may read some of the letters the Mother wrote to him, ponder over them, let the import of them sink in, and then the understanding of the man that was Sunil-da may dawn on the reader. To this purpose I quote (again from the same source as above) the Mother’s letters:

Sunil, my dear child,

We need music to accompany and frame my readings of passages from Savitri illustrated in Meditations on Savitri.

You alone can make this music the way it should be done.

Would you be interested in this work? It would make me very happy.

On another occasion, She wrote to him:

Sunil, this is genius! It is magnificent, with a deep and true emotion. It has made me very happy.

With my blessings.

29.12.64

Sunil, my dear child,

I would be very happy if you composed the music for the 1st of December, Anu’s dance-drama. Because you alone can do it the way it should be done. Your music is, according to me, the music of the future and it opens the ways to the new world. Blessings.

13.8.65

My child,

Yesterday, at a quarter past twelve and (again) today, at the same time, I have heard your music with deep emotion and I can tell you that I have never heard anything more beautiful, in music, of aspiration and spiritual invocation.

This letter was written in English:

I heard the music — it is wonderful! Music itself pure and high and strong — It is delightful and leaves you waiting and wanting to hear more....

After listening to another composition, She sent him the following letter:

I heard it with deep emotion as something exceptionally beautiful... I want to repeat again here that this music opens the doors of the future and reproduces admirably the musical vibrations of the higher regions.

8.12.65

Sunil, my dear child,

I have just heard what you have recorded. It is beautiful, very beautiful. It is the first time that I have heard music express true power, the power of Mahakali, the power of the Mahashakti. It is formidable and at the same time, so deeply sweet...

And specially, while listening to it, I had the impression of a door opening on to a still more beautiful future realisation.

Sunil, my dear child,

It was with impatience that I was waiting to listen to your music and I am so happy to have heard it today....

30.12.1965

This is recounted by Sunil-da in French — the English rendering is mine:

1967 — The music was composed and taped, ready for the Mother’s hearing, somehow Sunil-da did not like it. He found it to be ‘banal’. He said, “I would not listen to it then, but straightaway hear it along with the Mother.” So it was taken up to Her room. There, in Her presence, the tape was started. Curiously enough he says, “even I started to appreciate the music.” The Mother seemed to have gone into trance, eyes closed. Then eyes still closed, her lips trembling, she seemed to want to say something, but could not formulate it into words. Finally she exclaimed: “This is wonderful. It is the first time I have heard music coming down direct from the World of Harmony, without the intervention of the mind and vital.” Sunil-da approached the Mother. She asked him how he liked the music. He shook his head. She said, “What! you did not like it? Oh, you want that something new should take birth?”

Sunil-da was a man, who, we may say, embodied too very noble virtues, so needed and so seldom seen, to tread this and his chosen path — which is to follow and be of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. They are Humility and Gratitude. I think it is these two that teased him to often recite the following lines of Rabindranath Tagore (in a slightly modified form) during his last days.

যাবার সময় এই কথাটি বলে শধু যাই
যা দেখেছি, যা পেয়েছি তুলনা তার নাই।

(At the time of departing I have but one thing to say:
There is no way to match what I have seen, what received.)

I believe too that these two (virtues) would help cleanse our inner corridors of thoughts and feelings to let in nobler and higher ones. May I then suggest that Sunil-da was “an empty vessel that sounded much”. But what a Vessel and what Sound — a veritable cataract of Heavenly Music.

After this what is there to say of the man. Better watch and wait in silence for the Dawn that touched the hilltops, to descend into our valley — or — climb the hill to meet the Dawn.