Shehnai maestro Ustad Bismillah Khan passed away at the age of 90 on Monday, 21st August, due to cardiac arrest. Known for his performance at the Red Fort on India's first Republic Day, it had been his last wish to perform at India Gate for global peace, but that remained a wish unfulfilled, as a concert there earlier in the month was cancelled for security reasons. Anyway, it's really incredible that he had been able to perform up to such an advanced age. It's not so long ago that he recorded music for the film Swades. We are also talking here about the person who single-handedly took the ancient wind instrument out of the confines of temples and wedding halls, into the concert halls. He was initiated into the instrument by his uncle Ali Bux, who played the shehnai at the Vishwanath Temple in Varanasi. He never saw any conflict between his music and his religion. Even as a staunch Shia, he was also devoted to the goddess Saraswati. He would practise music at night at a temple. Once when a Hindu musician remarked at a conference that Islam has downgraded music, Bismillah Khan replied humorously: Sir, as you know, most of the best classical musicians of North India are Muslims. Can you imagine what would have happened if Islam had upgraded music?

Shehnai is a difficult instrument that demands good breath control in addition to finger techniques. It's amazing how Bismillah Khan could produce such a mellow sound and play such fast notes. It's certainly not an instrument that many young people of our generation will find time to learn. When he performed in Hollywood in 1960s, an American youth came to him at the end of the recital, touched his feet and said he wanted to come to India for six months and learn Shehnai from him; the great maestro told him to forget it, because in six months he would not even learn to hold the instrument properly, it's a lifetime vocation. Bismillah Khan was the third classical musician to win India's highest honour Bharat Ratna, after M.S. Subbulakshmi and Ravi Shankar. But he lived a simple life, never owning a car, travelling around Varanasi in a cycle rickshaw. In fact he lived in a little room of a three-storeyed house in a crowded lane of the city, with a bed, a telephone and a lantern as his only possessions, apart from the instrument so dear to him. It has been reported that when he was ailing a few years back, he could not even afford treatment and was asking financial help from the government. However, music organisers said he was simply supporting a large household of family and fellow musicians and they complaint he would bring an unwieldy group for every concert expecting them to bear all expenses. There was yet another report of Bismillah Khan alleging that leading Indian record companies had stopped paying royalty for his music. Perhaps increased music piracy has caused record companies to cancel royalties. Bismillah Khan said it should be the duty of the government to promote artistes and organise classical concerts. The standard of classical music is going down and one hardly sees any new artiste playing shehnai, he said.

Apparently the secret of Bismillah Khan being able to play shehnai at a ripe old age is that he built up a stamina by swimming in the Ganges. He was very attached to the river. Once during a concert in Europe, he was offered a car, a bungalow with servants and even citizenship. He reportedly replied asking: Does the Ganga flow here?

When I bought a DVD of the movie Thalapathy, little did I know what a piece of history I was getting into. At first, the song that attracted me to the movie, Rakkamma Kaiya Thattu, was just an excellent piece of foot-tapping, hand-clapping music to me. I was yet to discover this was a song that nearly got voted as the most popular song in the world! But more on that later. Anyway I was told that this movie (from 1991) produced a string of big hits under the music directorship of Ilaiyaraja. When I watched it for myself, I thought the story is not as interesting as later Mani Ratnam movies but at least Rajinikanth is not as bombastic and ridiculous as in other movies either. I mean the very first moment our macho man appears, he is already bashing up somebody like crazy, but that is all, no silly superstar grand entrance. Some people would consider Rakkamma as the best movie opening number ever, but the other songs are also nice and effective. Sundari Kannal Oru Seithi makes a perfect song for a lazy afternoon daydreaming about your ideal romance - although Rajinikanth in samurai costume... eh, no, thank you. Chinna Thayaval is a heart-rending song for the scene where our hero watches his long-lost mother from a distance as she is praying in a temple.

Now let's come back to Rakkamma, the song that fans of Ilaiyaraja would cite to prove that he is god. First of all there can be no doubt about Ilayaraja's mastery in writing orchestral scores. A story goes that when the songs for Thalapathy were recorded in Mumbai, some northern musicians in Mumbai were also invited to play and they made a statement that in 30 years they had never seen notation sheets with such rich music or played violin in such a challenging way. As I listen to the rapid strokes on the violin in Rakkamma, I'm thinking violin music in Europe has probably never been so rowdy, except for those Hungarian dances. But the stroke of genius on Ilayaraja's part is in stripping the main music down to just the melody on vocals and the steady beats of finger snapping, against these racing violins, plus some guitar strumming at the right places. The thing is, if he had just kept the song within 5 minutes, he would already have his gigantic hit. But no, just when you think you have heard a complete song, a chorus of female humming comes in, for the scene where Shobana leads a procession with deepam in their hands. It is a devotional song from Thevaram, Kunitha Puruvamum. After that the Rakkamma theme returns, and eventually the male voice of the melody and the same beat go simultaneously with the soft humming of female voices. Like a dance blending Tandava and Lasya, that makes a perfect finish for the song, which clocks in at 6 mins 45 secs, and there you have it, a timeless classic should you have any doubt at all in the earlier minutes.

As for the poll I was going to mention, that was something conducted in 2002 by BBC for the world's most popular song. At one point in time Rakkamma was in the lead, ahead of British pop songs by The Beatles, Queen and Led Zeppelin, ahead of all other Indian songs. Imagine! But the poll got less interesting as it turned into a political exercise in showing nationalist sentiments. In the end the number 1 song was a 19th-century Irish song calling for Ireland's independence, number 2 was Vande Mataram, number 3 was a popular song called Dil Dil Pakistan, Rakkamma ending up in number 4 followed by a song in number 5 from the Tamil Tiger film Mugungal about the struggle in Sri Lanka. It was like just short of voting for national anthems. Thanks to the poll, the world may be reminded of the potato famine in Ireland, revolutionaries like Bhagat Singh and so on - all right, a good thing in that case, but to me what it suggests above all is simply that the Indian subcontinent is full of faithful BBC listeners, and I hope it will not look as if the ex-colonies are still looking up to London as a centre of cultural power to give a stamp of approval. For we should lose such colonial mentality, just like we should get rid of an addiction to soft drinks like Coca-Cola and Pepsi and drink something healthier instead.

In any culture of the world, where people get into a trance as part of shamanic practice or religious rituals, it invariably involves some drum music. Whether it is just a heightened psychological state or it may be possession or influence by external spirits, that's up to your personal belief. But it does make sense that just as rubbing stones or wood together repetitively can create sparks, a repetitive drum beat can help induce an alternate state of consciousness. All I'm wondering now is whether a synthesised beat like in a remix album of kavadi songs will be more effective for a trance since it's most regular, or less because it is too machine-like. I have bought such an album recently, completely out of season, just to listen like it's disco or techno music, and from the first song called Kundrathil (sung by one A.R. Ramani Ammal, apparently composed by Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan for a 1970s movie) to the nth track I lose count of, I must say it seems rendered with the very same throbbing beat over and over. The beat overpowers everything else.

In India, the carrying of kavadi does not equal all that display of piercing one sees during Thaipusam in Singapore or Malaysia, which is in fact said to be Chinese-influenced. And talking about music, there is a genre of Tamil songs called kavadi chindu, meant to be sung by devotees, which are actually rather easy-going even with the nadaswaram and tavil or whatever drums as accompaniment. One nice song is Cenni Kulanagar in rupaka talam, written by Annamalai Reddiar from the 19th century, who was the pioneer in kavadi chindu. It describes the pleasant atmosphere at a temple as devotees are carrying kavadi. Apart from kavadi chindu, there are always Murugan songs in classical form. There is one album Murugan Pamalai recorded by Nithyasree Mahadevan, who has a characteristic sonorant voice. I especially like the way she goes "Mu-ru-GAA..." in Muruga Muzhumadhi, written by Papanasam Sivan in Saveri ragam. It is not so much sweetness as a magnetic quality in her voice that makes it absolutely captivating. The song also finishes with a flourish of mridangam and ghatam, just nice, not over the top.

There is nothing like some cool flute music to soothe one's soul on a quiet night, round about midnight, at the end of a long crazy day. I have a couple of CDs by Hariprasad Chaurasia just for this purpose, and I'm wondering now why I don't have more. Is there any other instrument in the world that is so simple and yet so enchanting? There are fairy tales in Europe about magic flutes (and pipes) that can control the minds of people and animals, and is it any wonder the charming and flirtatious Krishna is portrayed as playing the flute? In the autumn nights, upon hearing the sweet music from Krishna's flute, the gopis hastened to him, some leaving the house while milking the cow, some while taking their meals, some while serving their husbands, they just abandoned their work and went to him, even with their garments and ornaments in disarray. The philosophical interpretation would be that Krishna represents Atman - pure consciousness or the real Self, while the music of the flute represents bliss that one finds as one forgets all worldly duties in the pursuit of spiritual devotion.

Have heard Hariprasad Chaurasia in concert before and it seems he likes to round off his performance by playing the Carnatic raga Hamsadhwani, with the popular tune of Vatapi Ganapathim (something which of course would be played at the beginning for a Carnatic show). Something light in the raga Pahadi (a raga evoking mountains and valleys of Punjab) is another favourite as part of the conclusion. What I'm enjoying at the moment is a track in raga Mian Ki Malhar. Will have to keep exploring to expand my horizon and seek further bliss...