The Lone Royal Swan…
The Life of Bal Gandharva
Manjusha Amdekar
Translated from the original Marathi (“तो राजहंस एक…”)
8. Silver Screen and a Crushing Defeat
Ganpatrao Returns
The year 1928 dawned. From the very beginning of the new year, one auspicious event after another began to occur. Ever since Ganpatrao had left in 1922, there had been no rehearsal-master (taleem-master) in the company. Bal Gandharva had begun to feel that, for want of rehearsals, the polish was fading even from his old, successful plays. To everyone, only one person seemed fit to be the rehearsal-master — and that was Ganpatrao Bodas. When leaving the Gandharva Mandali, Ganpatrao had filed a suit against the company, because a sum of Rs 1900 owed to him by the company had not been paid. On August 18 1927, an honorable settlement was reached between the two parties and the dispute was resolved. Bal Gandharva had now firmly resolved to call Ganpatrao back into the Gandharva Mandali. But in the intervening period, Ganpatrao had taken to staging shows for two other drama companies — Lalitkaladarsh and Yashwant.
In the end, after discussion and negotiation, it was settled that Ganpatrao would return to the Gandharva Mandali. Lad mediated. It was agreed that Ganpatrao would be paid Rs 5,500 a year. This large a salary had not been received by anyone in the history of [Marathi] theatre until then. At the very start of 1928, the company, now free of debt, had come into Bal Gandharva’s possession. Ganpatrao returned. With that, an atmosphere of vitality spread everywhere. Bal Gandharva said openly, “If Ganpatrao lightens my burden of rehearsals, I shall be able to work for 5 years longer.”
Around this same time, the tabla-player of all-India fame, Ahmedjan Tirkhwa, agreed to join the Gandharva Mandali. At first there was displeasure among the others about this. Why needlessly add to the expense? After all, there was Rajanna already. Such was everyone’s opinion. But Bal Gandharva stood firm. He said, “Once Tirkhwa comes, you shall see for yourselves!”
And so Tirkhwa came. His salary, with board and lodging, was fixed at Rs 125 a month. At the very first performance in Mumbai, Tirkhwa won everyone’s hearts. Rajanna, who had sulked at first, accepted discipleship under him. Now the plays began to take on real richness and colour. Keshavrao Kamble on the organ, Kadarbaksh on the sarangi, and Tirkhwa on the tabla — this extraordinary confluence began to cast a spell over the audiences and even over the artists themselves. Dada Katdare himself was moved to remark, “I do grumble that Narayanrao keeps increasing the expenses — but such people are absolutely indispensable.”
Buying Land and the Daughter’s Wedding
Ever since Bal Gandharva’s debt had been cleared, Dada had become obsessed with the idea that Bal Gandharva ought to have his own immovable property, and that some provision should be made for him after retirement. Bal Gandharva himself was not even aware that he had any such need. But at Dada’s insistence he bought the “Paru’s Garden” plot opposite the Observatory in Pune for Rs 12,000. The plan was for the 3 brothers to build 3 bungalows on that plot. But “No new debt now; we’ll do it slowly, as the money comes in” — so said Bal Gandharva.
For a long while, apart from Pune and Mumbai, no performances had been held out of town. And experience had indeed shown that even in small towns, the response was good. So, it was decided to hold performances in those parts. In 1930, it was decided to hold the wedding of Bal Gandharva’s daughter Sarojini. Her marriage to Dr. Bhaskarrao Wable was conducted with such grandeur that people were overawed. Bal Gandharva spent Rs 30,000 on this wedding.
Fate Is Thoughtless
But just when everything was going well, there came once more the proof of how thoughtless fate can be. Bal Gandharva’s first three children had died earlier. Afterwards, three daughters were born. Of these, the eldest, Kamala, was lost on the pretext of an infection in her ear. Her ear operation was successful, but she contracted typhoid fever and died. Bal Gandharva himself had fallen ill with a failing, hoarse throat — for he bathed in cold water every day and constantly drank iced water. After his daughter’s death, when he returned to Pune, a performance of the play Mrichchhakatika was scheduled. Bal Gandharva performed even in that state. He would fling himself into his art and forget his grief. But his wife could never forget the anguish of losing her children one after another.
Longing for a son, she constantly kept vows and observances and fasted. These met with success, and she conceived once more. At the time of Saroj’s wedding, her time of delivery had drawn near. Two of Bal Gandharva’s plays — Swayamvar and Draupadi — were scheduled. Of these, Draupadi was cancelled and the audience’s money refunded, and Bal Gandharva himself stayed by his wife’s side. A lovely little son was born to them. There was joy everywhere. But this joy did not last long. Before the dawn sun could rise, the infant departed for the other world.
Since there was to be an afternoon show on Sunday, Bal Gandharva wiped away his tears and stood up to perform. Until now, he had borne many a blow and kept the word given to his audiences. This time too he performed his role with complete immersion. From the way he moved upon the stage, no one could sense that so great a blow had befallen him.
Pursuit of Debt, Once More
The extent to which Bal Gandharva was affected by these tragedies would make one wonder whether advancing age had lessened Bal Gandharva’s capacity to tolerate such blows. It became difficult for him to become one with his role. He would forget his lines. His command in rehearsals waned. Moreover, as if all this wasn’t enough, debts upon debts now began to mount. The interest upon them too kept swelling. This caused constant strain. After the wedding he had sent his son-in-law abroad for further studies. That expense too had grown and reached Rs 30,000.
There were about 100 people in the company. All had to be paid. There were the expenses of food and drink, of travel, of the plays. Because of Bal Gandharva’s obstinate devotion to beauty, the expenditure upon the stage too kept rising. There were the costly shalus and shawls, of course. But along with them, Bal Gandharva had made it a practice to take expensive perfumes and rub them onto these garments — so that the fragrance of that perfume should reach even the spectator seated in the very last row, and the audience should be pleased. Attar and rose-water would be sprinkled over the audience from silver rose-sprinklers (gulabdani). The Kirloskar custom of singing the closing verse (panchpadi) after the night meal was kept up here too. However, because Bal Gandharva’s voice had begun to fail, shows began to be called off. During the stay at Indore, the shows were actually shut down for a whole month.
Kanhopatra
Soon the rehearsals of Kanhopatra began. The tunes set by Master Krishnarao were so loved by everyone that every Monday evening bhajans came to be sung in the lodgings. The popularity of these bhajans grew so much that people began to throng to the lodgings every Monday to hear them. If only through these bhajans, Bal Gandharva felt, he would, in his old age, receive people’s affection. Dada Katdare, however, began to be troubled by a different worry. If Bal Gandharva’s songs were thus to be had for free, why would people buy tickets and come to the play? — such was the apprehension that began to nag him.
In various letters that Bal Gandharva wrote from time to time, one finds him writing of how the situation had deteriorated, how the income was dwindling, and how, because his voice was failing, the shows were being affected. In such circumstances, how the freshly-incurred debts were to be repaid was the question. On one side, the debt and his age both were increasing. On the other hand, his income was falling. Around that same time, when Master Krishnarao had gone on tour to the Punjab–Sindh province, he became acquainted with Lakhmichand Shethji. Shethji watched Bal Gandharva’s plays and became his devotee. Whenever the need arose in times of difficulty, he would give whatever sum was short. The remarkable thing is that Shethji gave this money out of love. It was neither a loan, nor did he expect any repayment from Bal Gandharva.
In October 1931, Kanhopatra was staged for the first time on the Mumbai stage. Its abhangs — “Avaghachi Sansar,” “Patit Tu Pavana,” “Aga Pandharichya Raya,” “Deen Patit Anyayi” and others — became immensely popular. Though the play was a success, the income did not rise and the debt did not get cleared. So, to cut expenses, the contract made with Bodas was brought to an end. After that, the company went, for the first time, to perform in Goa. There it met with an unprecedented response. Vinayakrao Patwardhan left the company and departed. After Vishnu Digambar Paluskar passed away, his son too left the company. Bal Gandharva tried very hard to keep them from leaving, but those efforts met with no success.
New Debt, Again
Close on the heels of this, Dada Katdare’s health failed and he too left the company and went away to his son. He used to scrupulously keep the accounts of income and expenditure. In that utterly honest mirror, the face of the debt had now begun to look disfigured and ghastly. Seeing Bal Gandharva’s reckless, unaccountable ways, he had become convinced that from now on the debt would never be cleared, and so he had departed with a disheartened mind.
By now the debt figure had risen and reached Rs 50,000. In June 1932, Bal Gandharva turned 44. Time and again, a cough would seize him and his voice would deteriorate. His voice had grown coarse from constant shouting. The tenderness in his persona had faded away. The sweetness in his female roles had diminished. With Hirabai Barodekar and Jyotsnabai Bhole having stepped onto the stage, the connoisseurs’ attention had begun to be drawn in their direction.
It was in this period that a fresh development in the field of entertainment had begun to bring about a revolution of an altogether different kind. With its two talkies, Ayodhyecha Raja and Mayamachhindra, the Prabhat Film Company had won enormous popularity and had pulled the connoisseurs’ minds away from the stage and turned them toward cinema. Like every other theatrical institution, Bal Gandharva’s Gandharva Natak Mandali too felt this scorching blow. Besides this, the sameness that had crept into the plays, and the old actors growing listless and elderly, were also among the causes. As a result, the stage began to go into decline. Now that women themselves had begun to act in plays, audiences no longer cared to watch men playing women. Reading the signs of the times, some drama companies wound themselves up.
The night shows stopped drawing a response. It no longer seemed possible that good earnings could be made on day shows alone so that the debts could be repaid. Bal Gandharva himself was becoming despondent. The earnings were dwindling. By now, plays had ceased to be popular on the strength of Bal Gandharva alone. Savitri and Amritsiddhi, the newly launched plays, were unable to rescue the company either.
Entry into the Silver World of Cinema
It was around this time, during a stay at Solapur, that V. Shantaram saw the play Ekach Pyala. In 1913, he had been with the Gandharva Mandali for a while. But he had left as he had not liked it. Later, he had planted his feet firmly in the film business. Making first silent films and then talkies, he had become very successful. The Prabhat Company he had founded in Kolhapur had risen to great fame in the world of cinema. On seeing the Sindhu that Bal Gandharva embodied, he was literally astonished. He ventured a guess: “If Narayanrao makes 6 films with our company in 3 years, he will earn at Rs 600,000!”
In 1928, the Madan Company of Calcutta had invited Bal Gandharva to act in their silent films. But he had refused, for at that time he was in his full bloom. Now, however, the circumstances were different. By now he was weary of the hardships. The debt had reached Rs 70,000. In such a situation, V. Shantaram’s proposal seemed attractive to him. He resolved to close down the Gandharva Mandali and enter into a partnership with Prabhat. But, surprisingly, he did not feel the slightest need to consult Lad-saheb and Khadilkar beforehand. It did not occur to him to deliberate with those who had lent him a hand in his days of decline, to take them into his confidence, and tell them of this momentous decision. Yet the news spread everywhere.
People began to turn the matter over in their minds. Would audiences take to Bal Gandharva in a male role; would the world of films suit and agree with a stage actor? Would his dialogues be effective? Would a 3-minute song please the people? But the curious thing was that neither Bal Gandharva nor Shantaram had given any of this any thought. The two of them had simply trusted in each other’s capability. That the artistes of the Gandharva Mandali should go their separate ways, and that all the costly equipment should be put away in storage — that was all the thought Bal Gandharva had given to it. It would not be wrong to say that this was the first transaction Bal Gandharva carried out purely for money, with complete disregard for art.
Although V. Shantaram had talked of 6 films, it was decided that the initial contract should be for only 2 films. Bal Gandharva agreed to this, because the first two films would clear the debt and leave money over. And so, on May 18th 1934, this contract was put down on paper in Pune. In keeping with it, Bal Gandharva ended his stay at Kolhapur and dissolved the Gandharva Mandali on December 31st 1934. In that city of Kolhapur where, 29 years earlier, Chhatrapati Shahu Maharaj had sent the little Bal Gandharva onto the stage, Bal Gandharva took leave of the art and the profession of theatre. Everyone was so overcome with emotion that no one could say a word. “To repay the debt, I have no choice but to close the company and go into cinema” — that was all Bal Gandharva could manage to say.
Setting Foot In Prabhat Nagar
From January 1 ,1935, in the capacity of a partner, Bal Gandharva began going to Prabhat Nagar. He was living in Pune with his family in the Deccan Gymkhana area; his mother lived with his brother in Shukrawar Peth, while his daughter and son-in-law lived in Nashik. Since female roles would not suit Bal Gandharva in his declining years, it was decided to give him the role of Saint Eknath. The heroine was Ratnaprabha, while Vasanti was to act as a child artiste.
Once Bal Gandharva took something to heart, he would devote himself to it utterly. To become slim, he gave up rice. He took up the exercise of walking 5 to 7 miles every day. At the studio, people treated him with great respect. He was earnestly trying to adjust to the new circumstances. Yet even so, his heart would not settle there. The artistic atmosphere in which he had enjoyed boundless delight for years on end — he could find it nowhere in the world of films. Bal Gandharva, accustomed to drawing applause at every step and winning “once more” in a theatre packed to the brim with spectators, could find no appeal in the disjointed filming of scenes for the cinema. It was as if he simply could not find his note. He could not bear the harsh glare of the studio floodlights. In that oppressive atmosphere, his throat too kept giving way. At last, the words escaped his lips: “God, in this trade there is none of the joy of our theatre trade.”
First Defeat and the Gandharva Mandali Again
With the Gandharva Mandali dissolved, the body of actors — not knowing what to do next — was waiting for something to happen. The moment it became clear that Bal Gandharva was not at ease in the world of cinema, it was decided to set the Gandharva Mandali on its feet again. On April 4, 1935, the inaugural ceremony of the newly revived Gandharva Mandali was carried out with great pomp. This bold venture met with response from the audience, and decent earnings began to come in. On December 7, 1935 Bal Gandharva’s film flashed onto theatre screens. People came, indeed, with great eagerness, to see Bal Gandharva on the screen. But everyone was bitterly disappointed. They did not find, on the screen, the Bal Gandharva they had expected.
Bal Gandharva knew very little about cinema. And V. Shantaram did not have sufficient knowledge of Bal Gandharva’s artistry. Even so, trusting in each other, they had come together. But this experiment turned out a failure. The novice actors who worked under V. Shantaram’s direction rose to fame. But Bal Gandharva was no newcomer. Audiences knew the artistic qualities within him. And so the yardsticks for judging him were ready beforehand. The audience did not accept Bal Gandharva in his new form precisely for this reason. V. Shantaram’s surmise that Bal Gandharva, on account of his advancing years, would no longer look the part in a female role was indeed correct. But the possibilities and the limits of him in a male role — of these Shantaram had no knowledge at all. Hindi speakers did not know who Eknath was. The tunes of the abhangs, too, failed to take hold. Unable to enter into the spirit of the filming process, Bal Gandharva did whatever the director told him. As a result, an artificiality crept into the performance. That not a single song from this film stayed in the audience’s memory and was hummed — that itself was a very great failure.
It could be said that this was the first crushing defeat in Bal Gandharva’s artistic life!
Bal Gandharva had already grown weary of the atmosphere in the world of cinema. And then came this defeat. So, a hope arose in his mind that, if Prabhat released him from the contract, he would be able to return to the stage at once. Because of this failure, Prabhat’s owners too were not eager to carry the partnership forward. So, they immediately accepted Bal Gandharva’s proposal and set him free. And he, gladly, turned once more toward the stage.
Second Crushing Defeat
When Bal Gandharva returned to the stage, he had grown slim. Since the strain of singing had eased, his voice had improved. And as he no longer had to keep the late nights that the stage demanded, he looked fresh and bright. As a result, his female roles had once again started to seem vibrant and lively. People had again begun to throng to see him. But in the meantime, his fellow artiste Kadarbaksh had died, and Tirakhwa had taken up employment with the Nawab of Rampur.
Swayamvar, Ekach Pyala, and Draupadi were bringing in earnings. But the rest of the plays were not doing well. Repaying the debt was becoming difficult. In this situation, the silver screen once again held out to Bal Gandharva the mirage of clearing his debts. Dadasaheb Torne of Saraswati Cinema had filmed and recorded a small scene from Swayamvar, in which Bal Gandharva looked attractive in every way. His form, like that of a stout woman of some royal household, drew everyone’s attention too. The recording of the song Svakul Tarakasuta had come out beautifully. Baburao Ruikar, the owner of the Royal Cinema in Kolhapur, saw that footage and heard the recording. He was seized with the notion that if Bal Gandharva were shown in a female role in a film, audiences would like it very much. So, it was decided to stage the play Amritsiddhi during the Mumbai run itself and to film it. In return for this, Ruikar was to give Bal Gandharva Rs 25,000. He would also give the other artistes in the play an extra month’s salary. This plan appealed to Bal Gandharva, because it would spare him the need to go from the stage into the world of cinema and there, in that arid atmosphere, do the filming piece by piece.
Only, Bal Gandharva feared that in a film he would not look good as a woman. But Baburao Painter assured him he could rest easy. Since everyone had faith in his sense of beauty, the idea moved forward. At last, on June 3, 1937, the contract between Bal Gandharva and Ruikar was signed.
Meanwhile, the earnings of the shows in Mumbai had begun to dwindle. Additionally, Hindu-Muslim riots broke out, and they had a very bad effect on both the shows and the earnings. The joint project of Bal Gandharva and Ruikar, the film Sadhvi Mirabai, appeared on the screen on September 18, 1937. The technique of putting a theatrical performance itself into a film is called a ‘stage talkie’. Although this form had become popular in Western countries, Baburao Painter neither knew its technique nor had he taken the trouble to learn it. It had been decided that, in a film city in Mumbai, the scenes of the play would be filmed against a theatrical backdrop and recorded at the same time. And indeed, the filming was completed in just a month and a half. But because the technique was treated lightly, this venture turned out to be devoid of art and a complete failure.
Both attempts at films, made with V. Shantaram and with Ruikar, turned out to be utter failures !