Learning Dhrupad: An Opportunity or a Responsibility?

By Mukund Dev Sahoo

A few days ago, during an online Dhrupad class, I had a conversation that made me reflect deeply on my own twenty-one-year journey in classical music.

One of my senior Disciples, Sanjay ji, lives in the USA. He is a professor and teaches higher studies students, and for the last several years he has been learning Dhrupad from me online.

Although he is my disciple in Dhrupad, I often feel that I am also learning from him. His professional experience, his way of observing things, and the questions that arise from his own life give me an opportunity to look at my own practice from a different perspective.

During the class that day, there was a particular swara that had to be placed slightly higher. He sang it a little lower than required. I corrected him and said that the swara needed to be taken slightly higher.

He immediately replied that he already knew it had gone lower.

Then he said something that stayed with me:

“If I knew it was supposed to be higher, how did I still miss it?”

He called it a missed opportunity—an opportunity to establish the swara firmly at that particular moment.

He then gave me an example from volleyball.

He said that despite having many years of experience playing volleyball, whenever he misses a shot, he sometimes becomes upset-not because he does not know how to play, but because that particular opportunity existed only for a moment. Once that moment passes, it can never return in exactly the same way.

Then he smiled and said something even more profound:

How many such opportunities have we missed in life—opportunities that existed only for one particular moment and could never come back?

His words touched me deeply.

It was his Dhrupad class, but somehow, I felt that I was receiving a lesson from him.

And this made me look back at my own twenty-one years in music.

Opportunity or Responsibility?

Today, when I look back, I can say with great gratitude that learning music from my revered Gurus was one of the greatest opportunities of my life.

But when I was actually learning from them, I never thought of it as an “opportunity.”

I thought of it as a responsibility. The responsibility to sing the swara correctly. The responsibility to practise sincerely. The responsibility to preserve what my Gurus were giving me. The responsibility to serve my Guru. And above all, the responsibility to live the music, not merely learn it.

From 2013 until October 2019, I would go to my Guru’s home almost every evening. I spent time with the entire Guru family and considered every opportunity to serve them as my responsibility.

Some of my deepest learning did not happen during a formal music lesson. It happened in moments of silence. It happened while sitting near my Guru. It happened while massaging his feet and listening to his experiences. It happened through conversations, observations, discipline and simply being present. Those moments taught me things that no textbook could have taught me.

That is when I began to understand that Guru-shishya parampara is not merely about transferring musical knowledge. It is about transmitting a way of living.

Responsibility Changes the Way We Learn

When we think of something as an opportunity, there can always be a fear of losing it.

“I must not miss this opportunity.”

“What if I fail?”

“What if I don’t make the most of it?”

But when we begin to see the same thing as a responsibility, something changes within us.

Responsibility creates commitment. An opportunity can be missed. But a responsibility asks us to return again and again. If I consider Dhrupad merely an opportunity, I may practise when I feel inspired. If I consider Dhrupad my responsibility, I practise even when I do not feel inspired. If I consider my Guru’s teaching an opportunity, I may admire it. If I consider it a responsibility, I try to live up to it. If I consider the Dhrupad tradition an opportunity, I may enjoy being part of it. If I consider its preservation my responsibility, I ask myself:

What am I doing to ensure that this knowledge reaches the next generation in its true spirit?

This distinction has shaped my entire journey.

The Responsibility Towards the Swara

For a Dhrupad practitioner, responsibility begins with something very small and very fundamental:

The Swara.

Every swara is a responsibility. Where is it? How does it arise? How does it settle? What is its relationship with the previous and following swara? How deeply can we listen before producing it? In Dhrupad, singing a swara is not simply producing a correct pitch. It is learning to establish it with awareness.

And perhaps this is what Sanjay ji reminded me of that day.

That particular swara came only once in that particular moment. It was an opportunity—but it was also a responsibility. To recognise it. To receive it. And to establish it fully.

Responsibility Towards the Guru

The next responsibility is towards the Guru. A Guru does not simply give us compositions, techniques or musical information. A Guru gives us years of tapasya distilled into teaching. Behind one phrase may be decades of experience. Behind one correction may be generations of knowledge. Therefore, receiving the Guru’s teaching demands humility. For me, Guru-seva was never separate from music. Serving my Guru, spending time with the Guru family, listening to him, observing him and trying to understand his way of life were all part of my education. The lesson was not always:

“Sing this way.”

Sometimes the lesson was simply:

“Be this way.”

Responsibility Towards the Tradition

Dhrupad is not merely a genre of music that we consume, perform or present on a stage. It is a living tradition. It carries the experiences, discipline and wisdom of generations of musicians and seekers. When we receive such a tradition, we become temporary custodians of something much larger than ourselves. This creates another responsibility: to preserve without diluting, and to share without misrepresenting.

We must learn deeply before we teach. We must understand before we explain. We must experience before we claim to have understood. And when we pass it on, our responsibility is not to make the tradition smaller to suit ourselves, but to make ourselves capable of receiving its depth.

Responsibility Towards Sadhana

Dhrupad cannot be understood only through intellectual knowledge. It requires sadhana. The daily practice of Kharaj, The long Alapana, Listening, Breath, Silence, Awareness, Patience, Repetition, And the willingness to begin again every day.

Sadhana teaches us an important truth:

There is no final arrival.

Every day, the same Sa can reveal something new.

Every day, the same swara can become deeper.

Every Alap can expose a new limitation within us.

Therefore, the responsibility of a Dhrupad practitioner is not simply to practise until he becomes good. It is to continue practising because there is always something deeper to discover.

Responsibility Towards the Self

There is also a responsibility towards oneself. To remain honest, To recognise our limitations, To not pretend to know what we have not experienced, To listen to our own voice deeply, To protect the inner space from unnecessary noise. Dhrupad ultimately asks us to become a better listener-not only of music, but of ourselves.

The outer swara becomes meaningful only when we begin to hear the inner silence.

Responsibility Towards the Future

For me, this responsibility eventually took another form. After receiving the blessings and teachings of my Gurus, I felt that my role could not end with my own learning. I had to contribute to the preservation and propagation of this ancient musical tradition.

This understanding became one of the foundations behind the establishment of the Dhrupad Music Foundation.

The Foundation is not simply an organisation for teaching or presenting music. For me, it is an extension of the responsibility I received from my Gurus. A responsibility towards the tradition. A responsibility towards students. A responsibility towards future generations.

And a responsibility towards the knowledge that has travelled through so many generations before reaching us. I have taken a personal resolve to carry this responsibility for as long as I have breath.

The Disciples Responsibility

Over these many years, I have seen many students come to learn Dhrupad. Some come because they are fascinated by the sound. Some come because they want to perform. Some come because they are searching for something within themselves. All these reasons can be valid beginnings. But eventually, every serious student has to ask:

What is my responsibility towards what I have received?

The responsibility to practise. The responsibility to listen. The responsibility to respect the Guru. The responsibility to understand the tradition. The responsibility to maintain discipline. The responsibility to preserve the purity of the learning. The responsibility to pass it forward when the time comes. And perhaps most importantly-

the responsibility to not waste the moment.

Every Moment of Sadhana Is Irreplaceable

I keep thinking about Sanjay ji’s volleyball example.

A player may have played for many years, but the ball that was missed at that particular moment will never come back in exactly the same way.

Music is similar.

The swara we are singing now will never exist again in precisely the same moment. The breath will change. The mind will change. The body will change. The listener will change. The acoustic space will change. And we will change.

Therefore, every moment of Dhrupad practice carries an extraordinary responsibility.

This swara will never come again exactly like this.

Can I receive it fully?

Can I establish it fully?

Can I listen deeply enough?

Can I be completely present?

From Opportunity to Responsibility

Perhaps, then, the question is not whether learning Dhrupad is an opportunity or a responsibility.

It is both.

The opportunity is what we receive. The responsibility is what we do with what we receive.

The opportunity may come through a Guru. The responsibility is to honour the teaching. The opportunity may come through a tradition. The responsibility is to preserve it. The opportunity may come through a moment in music. The responsibility is to be fully present in that moment. The opportunity may come once. The responsibility continues every day.

After twenty-one years of learning and living with classical music, I feel that what I once considered an opportunity has slowly transformed into a lifelong responsibility.

I received Dhrupad from my Gurus.

Now I must carry it.

I received knowledge.

Now I must serve it.

I received a tradition.

Now I must protect it.

And whatever little I have understood, I must try to pass it forward with sincerity. Perhaps this is what it means to become a student.

Not simply to ask,

“What can I receive from Dhrupad?”

But eventually to ask,

“What can I do for Dhrupad?”

That question changes everything. And perhaps the real journey of learning begins there.

गुरु और साधक की यात्रा

The Journey of the Guru and the Disciple

गुरुपूर्णिमा विशेष लेख: मुकुंद देव साहू

जीवन में गुरु की आवश्यकता हर किसी को होती है। यह एक शाश्वत सत्य है कि बिना गुरु के कोई भी व्यक्ति सत्पथ पर चलकर आत्मज्ञान या परम सत्य के आलोक को नहीं देख सकता।

गुरु केवल पथ प्रदर्शक नहीं होते वे स्वयं वह दीपक होते हैं, जिसकी रोशनी में साधक अपने भीतर के अंधकार को पहचानता है और उससे बाहर निकलने की यात्रा शुरू करता है।

आज के समाज में ‘ज्ञानी’ कहलाने की परिभाषा थोड़ी बदल गई है। ज्ञान का अर्थ अक्सर केवल तथ्यों और सूचनाओं का संग्रह मान लिया गया है। जो व्यक्ति उन्हें चतुराई से प्रस्तुत कर लेता है, उसे ही ‘ज्ञानी’ कहा जाता है।

पर क्या वास्तव में वह व्यक्ति ज्ञानी है? या वह केवल चतुर है?

गुरुपूर्णिमा के इस पावन अवसर पर आइए, इस भेद की थोड़ी खोज करें।

गुरुपूर्णिमा का दिन वही पुण्य तिथि है जब भगवान बुद्ध ने अपना प्रथम उपदेश धर्मचक्र प्रवर्तन पाँच शिष्यों को दिया था। यह केवल एक शिक्षण घटना नहीं थी, बल्कि आत्मज्ञान की एक वैश्विक धारा की शुरुआत थी।

बुद्ध की एक कथा है, वे एक मुनि से बहती नदी के किनारे संवाद करते हैं।

बुद्ध पूछते हैं, “यदि कोई इस नदी के दूसरे किनारे जाना चाहे तो क्या करेगा?”

मुनि उत्तर देते हैं, “यदि जल कम हो तो वह पैदल पार कर सकता है; यदि गहरा हो, तो नाव का सहारा लेगा; और यदि तैरना आता हो तो स्वयं तैर सकता है।”

बुद्ध फिर प्रश्न करते हैं, “यदि वह न चलना चाहे, न तैरना, न नाव लेना, और यह कहे कि ‘नदी का दूसरा किनारा स्वयं चलकर मेरे पास आ जाए’ तो आप क्या कहेंगे?”

मुनि उत्तर देते हैं, “ऐसे व्यक्ति को हम मूर्ख ही कहेंगे।”

बुद्ध समझाते हैं, “जो व्यक्ति स्वयं के अज्ञान और भ्रांति को दूर नहीं करता, वह भी उसी प्रकार मुक्ति के दूसरे छोर तक नहीं पहुँच सकता। चाहे वह पूजा करे, अनुष्ठान करे, व्रत रखे या नैतिक जीवन जिए वह केवल भ्रम के साथ उसी किनारे पर खड़ा रहेगा।”

गुरु का कार्य: दिशा देना, नाव नहीं बनाना

मनुष्य को यह दुर्लभ जीवन परम सत्य की खोज के लिए मिला है। और इस सत्य तक पहुँचने के लिए गुरु की आवश्यकता अनिवार्य है। गुरु मार्ग दिखाते हैं, पर चलना तो स्वयं को ही होता है।

गुरु की दृष्टि में सभी शिष्य समान होते हैं वह न जाति देखता है, न पद, न धन, न विद्या।

शिष्य को यह निर्णय स्वयं करना होता है कि वह उस मार्ग को कैसे पार करेगा किसी की बनाई नाव से या अपनी नाव बनाकर।यह निर्णय उसके प्रारब्ध, संकल्प, और कर्मों पर आधारित होता है।

कलाकार की दो यात्राएँ: परफ़ॉर्मर और गुरु

कलाकार दो प्रकार के हो सकते हैं, एक परफ़ॉर्मर, दूसरा गुरु।

दोनों एक ही गुरु से शिक्षा पाकर भी अलग-अलग दिशाओं में यात्रा करते हैं।

परफ़ॉर्मर अक्सर दूसरों की बनाई नाव में यात्रा करता है। उसे मंच, आयोजक, दर्शक, और प्रशंसा की आवश्यकता होती है।

वह भी किनारे तक पहुँच सकता है, पर उसका अनुभव मुख्यतः बाह्य होता है।

गुरु, अपनी नाव स्वयं बनाता है, स्वयं ही उसका नाविक बनता है।

वह अकेले उस गहरे जल को पार करता है, और जब पहुँचता है, तब दूसरों को भी मार्ग दिखाने लगता है, अपनी नाव से, अपने अनुभव से।

दोनों ही दूसरे किनारे तक पहुँच सकते हैं, लेकिन क्या दोनों की यात्रा की गहराई, भक्ति, त्याग और अनुभूति समान होती है?

क्या मुक्ति की अनुभूति सबके लिए एक जैसी होती है? यह प्रश्न आज भी हमारे भीतर उत्तर की प्रतीक्षा में है। गुरुपूर्णिमा के इस पावन अवसर पर आप सभी को मेरी ओर से हार्दिक शुभकामनाएँ। स्वस्थ रहें, साधना में रमें, और स्वयं अपना दीपक बनें।

“तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय।”

(अंधकार से प्रकाश की ओर चलो।)

The Importance of Discernment and Discipline in Learning Classical Music

By Mukund Dev Sahoo

Imagine giving a heart patient cancer medication, or prescribing stomach ache medicine for a dental patient! Would such an approach heal either person? We would call such a doctor ignorant, and perhaps the patient uneducated. This analogy highlights a simple truth: to heal a specific ailment, you need the appropriate treatment. Likewise, in music or any art form, an informed approach is essential. As a classical music teacher, I’ve observed this many times with my students how the knowledge I pass down from my gurus impacts them, and how they receive it. This article aims to explore this dynamic.

Just as a doctor diagnoses the problem before prescribing medication and outlines a time frame for healing, a guru assesses a student’s musical aptitude, maturity, and foundational knowledge. Based on this assessment, the guru designs the teaching process. A wise student follows the guru’s method, dedicating their energy to refining their skills. If a student is not inclined to discipline, the guru’s wisdom may not resonate with them. Much of this interaction depends on the student’s environment, atmosphere, and upbringing.

Let’s delve deeper into how this exchange works. Classical music is considered an auditory art, while dance is a visual one. Both require the practitioner to observe discipline. In auditory art, the discipline lies in knowing what to listen to and what to avoid. Similarly, in visual art, it’s about discerning what to watch and what not to. In today’s world, where screens mobile phones, in particular are everywhere, this distinction becomes crucial. Watching reels, for example, has become second nature to most people, but artists and students need to understand when it helps and when it doesn’t.

For an artist, the path of mastery involves renunciation and dedication. Most people live either in the past or the future, but an artist lives in the present and teaches society how to live in the moment. This is one of the greatest lessons of art: to fully experience and enjoy life, and to understand its meaning in real-time. Therefore, discipline is a necessary part of this journey. If one can adhere to it, they will rise above societal pressures and live a fulfilling, enriched life.

Returning to the analogy: just as a specific medicine is prescribed to cure an illness within a given time frame, in art, adhering to the time-tested guidance of a guru is crucial. As human beings, our thoughts and behaviors reflect what we constantly absorb. If we regularly engage with violent or disturbing content, it will manifest in our actions. In the same way, if we fill our minds with shallow or negative music, it will inevitably reflect in our own artistic expressions.

Recently, a friend of mine who resides abroad shared a story about his strict guru, who forbade him from listening to other artists during his training. Though it caused frustration initially, over time, he realized the value of this disciplined approach. Years later, he even wrote a popular book based on his guru’s teachings. In the past, such strictness was common, which is why the concept of “Gharana” (musical lineage) held so much importance. However, today, listening to Gharana-style singing seems like a distant dream because many have lost their sense of discipline. This is not the fault of students or teachers alone; societal changes have played a significant role.

Classical music, being an auditory art, is traditionally passed down through oral transmission what we call “Gurumukhi Vidya” (knowledge from the guru’s mouth). The purity of this form depends on faithfully following the guru’s instructions. Listening to other styles or traditions during the formative years of training may dilute the student’s own musical journey. The more one immerses in a particular tradition, the more assured their progress.

In Deva Vani Dhrupad Music tradition, there are five principles of discipline known as “Sadachaar” that guide the student toward maintaining musical purity and discovering their own unique expression. These principles are deeply embedded in the Deva Vani Dhrupad tradition, and following them ensures that a student upholds the integrity of their art while carving out a distinctive identity in today’s world.

The famous name of Tansen is well-known in the Indian classical Dhrupad Music tradition. Many singers aspire to become like him. I remember, back in 2011, when I visited my late friend Devdatt’s home near Pune, his father an avid classical music enthusiast blessed me with valuable advice. He said, “Many are trying to prove themselves as Tansen, but you, my son, strive to be a ‘Kansen’ (one who listens). Focus on listening carefully to your guru when you’re learning and your own voice during practice. Always be mindful of what music you expose yourself to, for it will shape your musical journey.” His words had a lasting impact on me and helped me develop a distinct musical style of my own.

Over the years, many students have come to learn from me some for a short time, some for longer. My only hope is that they gain something valuable from their training, something that impacts their lives and brings stability to their journey. In conclusion, I’d like to emphasize that art can transform your life, but only if you distance yourself from the distractions of easily accessible entertainment and instead focus on the teachings of your guru. Only then can you truly understand the depth of art and discover its beauty.

Should a music student blindly accept the words of a Satguru? Can knowledge emerge from this?

By Mukund Dev Sahoo

The most important and yet, the most difficult task is to educate someone. Transmission of knowledge between the teacher and the taught, depends on a teacher’s intellectual development and level of communication, and the receptivity of a student. In essence, an effective teacher brings out the best from within a student.

Being a music teacher for long, I am interested to share with you all, a few of my observations and thoughts. For the past several years, many students have come to me for learning. They all have one thing in common in their mind: if what they are singing is right or wrong, and why are they not able to understand? How do they make mistakes even after I tell them, how to envision the place of a shruti in the interval of swaras used in a raga? They become disturbed because of this, get upset as to why they are unable to understand all these nuances of music? Due to which many have stopped learning music. Furthermore, if Shadaj (Sa) means Shat+Aj; Shat means six and Aj means originating, i.e., the six Swaras originate from Sa itself, then why are they not realising it?

It seems to me that many of today’s music students would similarly be troubled with all these doubts! I am writing this article to address, “why do these doubts arise?” This article is to bring clarity to these doubts and how one should imbibe the best that the art forms offer, in essence, the (He)art of music.

I think it would be appropriate to share here an incident that happened to me, probably in the year 1995, when I was 7 years of age. Our family was raised in Vaishnavism and my father used to perform kirtan, walking the streets, singing the name of Krishna and playing the mridangam (Khol). Whenever he met a saint on the way, father used to invite him for a meal at home. One day father came home with a monk who was wearing saffron robe and had a coiffure on his head. When that monk saw me, he put his hand on my head and gave me a photo in my hand which had a picture of a saint. The monk also gave a mantra to chant and said, “Whenever you have any problem in life, remember him, close your eyes and take his name, all your problems will go away.” After that day, this mantra was included in my Sandhya Aarti which consisted of – Gayatri Mantra, Mahamrityunjaya Mantra, Sandhya Mantra, Navagraha Mantra; at the end of chanting all these mantras, I used to chant the mantra which the monk gave. I didn’t know who this saint was, what he did, or where he was from, I didn’t know anything about the saint in the photo. Yet, I just chanted his name in the mantra everyday as was instructed to me by the monk.

In 2018, my Guruji Padmashree Gundecha Bandhu’s father, Late Shri Chandmal Gundecha Ji, from whom I learned many important things in life, was reading a book at his home. I used to go to Guru ji’s house every day, that day also when I went there, seeing the book Babu ji was reading, I asked him, “What is that book you are reading?” He said, “This is the book of Saint Mahatmas.” “Please can I see it?” I asked. Babu ji said, “Do you want to see or read, tell me?” “I want to read this book after seeing it” I said. Then he gave me that book. When I opened the book, I saw that the same photo which was given to me by the monk in 1995 was inside this book and the whole journey of the saint’s life was written there. When I saw all this in the book, I was surprised that the saint, whose name I was chanting for so many years, though I never showed any desire to know about him; yet he came in front of me and told me who he was!

I have a deep feeling that we may not understand some of the things that Sat Guru (Master, Saint) says now, but if we practise what is said every day, even if it is without understanding, when the time comes, the same thing will be understood. I do not mean to say that you must do things without understanding; if you are able to understand, then that is good; you should try your best to understand. However, if you do not understand, there is no problem in that, just keep doing the Sadhana. It will reflect and dawn in your understanding when the right time comes. Perhaps this birth may also fall short of this understanding, just as following evening is night, and as the sun rises it is morning; this cycle of nature is not dependent on anyone, it is rotating freely in time. If you go to the temple in the dark of the night and pray for morning to dawn in the middle of the night, then even God will call you mad. Similarly, true knowledge automatically dawns, moving in the cycle of time. That knowledge will surely be a payoff when you are ready and have matured. Do not expect that knowledge would just happen because of a sadhna; even if you feel that you are getting peace of mind (& soul) by the music sadhna, then just keep doing the sadhna and keep walking on this path.

I could not understand many things that we learned from Guruji Padmashree Gundecha Bandhu ji then; only now slowly I’m understanding and realising what he wanted to convey. We are all familiar with the fact that music is Gandharva kala. But what is the meaning of Gandharva? The art which brings the sense of infinity, which can take one to samadhi and whose practice opens the door to salvation, is Gandharva art. Cultivation of such an art is not in everyone’s destiny; if you are joining this practice, then you must have done very good deeds by which you are getting familiar with the heart of this art. Keep with music sadhana, treading the path constantly, continuously and in full receptivity to what is taught! All that is to be understood will reveal itself with readiness of the mind!

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The condition of classical music and musicians in Odisha is appalling.

The demise of Pandit Umesh Chandra Kar has filled my heart with immense pain. Pandit ji is a very famous name in the history of Tabla of Odisha. He is probably not known to many people in India because he is from Odisha. This is not due to limitations of other states, it is because of the limitations of Odisha’s musical environment; odisa’s political scene was unable to recognize his art and artistic talents. Panditji could definitely have been recommended for the Padma award or any other national award, if not for Odisha’s political scene. If he hailed from any other states of India, his name would have been nominated for Padma award and would have been given a chance to present his art in every major program held at the government level in India. The music world of Orissa has not learned to promote anything other than Odissi music and Odissi dance and appreciate any artist or their art. It is not that artists are not being prepared in Odisha, every year hundreds of students pass out from Utkal Sangeet Mahavidyalaya and Utkal University of Culture, but where do all these artists go? There is very little appreciation of art here so where do these art students go? What do they do? There is no trace of them in the field of art.

Today again a great personality who created many disciples in Odisha music history disappeared into the sky, not much known to the outside, even within india. One of my disciples went to him just a few days ago. When he said that he is learning Dhrupad, Pandit ji said that this Dhrupad music is the root of all music, I am very happy you are learning it. Then Pandit ji said to the student,
“I have played my tabla with so many great personalities, I’m requesting you tell all this to the government so that they can give way to my art.” When that student came and told me this, I was very distressed. You can guess from this how much pain and suffering he was in, in his last stage of life.

Pandit Ji belongs to a strong musical family, his father Pandit Khetramohan Kar was a well-known tabla player and many artists of India used to visit his house in Puri. Even after belonging to such a strong musical family, his sorrow and pain was immense as he was born in Odisha. This experience of my 12 years living outside Odisha to learn music says that if he had lived in cities like Kolkata, Pune, Mumbai, Delhi, Punjab etc he might not have had to face this pain and suffering. Great artistes like Vidushi Sunanda Patnaik had moved to Kolkata because of such indicative musical atmosphere of Orissa.

I heartily request all the music gurus, music critics, music lovers and politicians of Odisha to designate a road in his name to keep Panditji’s memory alive and place Pandit Umesh Chandra Kar statue in that road. This cannot complete the irreparable loss in classical music, but if this is done, then Pandit ji’s soul can definitely find peace, I believe.

Mukunda Dev Sahoo

Dhrupad exponent, (Disciple of Padma Shri Gundecha Brothers) Poet, Writter & Composer