Looking for Miss Sargam: Stories of Music and Misadventure | Fiction |
Shubha Mudgal | Speaking Tiger Publishing, 2019 | ISBN: 978-93-88874-88-5 |
Pp 205 | HB | 499

A  Musical Delight

Though reviewing is by and large an enjoyable and enriching task, every now and then a book will come across which will make it problematic and difficult. These books are not rare or extraordinary: they are not pioneering or earth-shattering in any way, they do not set a radical new paradigm for creative writing and critical thinking. No, this other kind of books is quite ordinary, even mundane. They do not say anything new; they do not provoke you into deep introspection. Yet, they manage to sparkle with a distinct charm. You can almost always make out what the stories they narrate will become, but what matters more in the end is not what they say but how they say it.

Shubha Mudgal’s Looking for Miss Sargam: Stories of Music and Misadventure is just such a book. Her debut work of fiction, this collection of seven short stories casts a keen and witty look at the music and entertainment industry with an insider’s rich perspective. The narrative voice is quick, contemporary, and—for the most—conversational, lending the stories an intimate appeal and attraction in their exploration of the struggles, aspirations, and dilemmas of musical artistes and professionals in our times. In themselves they are predictable, yes, for anyone with an even cursory penchant for news will recognise in them patterns familiar from the everyday, but what matters more here is the half-humorous, half-ironic sensitivity with which these stories are narrated.

The first story, “Aman Bol”, touches upon India-Pakistan relationships, the rawest of all nerves in subcontinental music, and shows how public expressions of peace and goodwill are in reality corporate games for profit and marketability. Shweta Bansal, the brash, confident VP of one of the largest media houses in the country devises an ambitious plan to have a sufiyana jugalbandi between the two biggest singing sensations of India and Pakistan, but the concert turns out to be a battle of one-upmanship between the two titans—and, as a result, only music suffers. In “Foreign Returned”, simple and down-to-earth Asavari Apte’s abiding passion to perform abroad leads her into making a series of unfortunate choices which bring her no credit and leave her, instead, in a compromising situation. To be recognised by the government and receive its patronage involves extensive lobbying, and in the absence of the requisite capital Apte has no choice but to put herself in the hands of a precocious young impresario. This trust proves to be unfounded though, and the overseas trip soon turns into a nightmare.

Likewise, “Taan Kaptaan” delves poignantly into the criminal underbelly of musical aspiration and the entertainment industry. Saxena Sir, a maestro renowned in Meerut, gets convinced by businessman Gupta’s proposal of starting a reality show to search for the next superstar of Hindustani classical music. As advertisements come up all over the country and applications start pouring in, Saxena Sir feels confident his dream of making it big in the world of music is finally coming true. Gupta turns out to be a conman though, who runs away with crores and leaves Saxena Sir to face the music. The story of “Manzoor Rehmati” is also somewhat similar: though Manzoor Ahmad ‘Rehmati’ is one of the most accomplished harmonium players in Delhi, he feels his life is incomplete without some form of recognition. Only one will suffice for his ambitious heart, the Padma award. No match for Ustad Riwayat Ali Khan, Manzoor ends up revealing a treasured family composition to the wily Ustad but gets only disappointment in return: broken and bitter, the bottle finally claims him.

The concluding story, “At the Feet of His Master”, in undoubtedly the best in the collection though. Shivendra Kumar Jha—aka Pandit ji—has risen from an unpaying job as a music teacher in rural Bihar to become one of the prime singers of powerful godwoman Shri Vatsalyamai Mata’s entourage. He also doubles up as a music composer and mixer on the side though, and it is this work which gives him hope of raising himself from the settled monotony of his comfortable life into international fame and success. He agrees to make a new track with the EDM pioneers Gabbar n Mak for a big-ticket Hollywood movie by the Indian-origin American director Naina Nagpal. The track, a soulful rendition of an old Meerabai bhajan, becomes an instant hit, but Shivendra forgets it is will be picturised on a sexually charged scene of Afghan bacha baazi. As expected, the movie’s release immediately attracts the ire of Hindu fundamentalist organisations and Shivendra’s life comes under danger. He is able to weather the storm only by flying back into Shri Mata’s protection, who tells him in clear terms to abandon all such dreams and be only her “favourite khotta”.

Overall, thus, Looking for Miss Sargam is an entertaining read despite its storylines being more or less predictable. After all, the vicissitudes—scandals, controversies—of the music industry are familiar to most of us not really parts of it, so most storylines in the book seem like foregone conclusions. Curiously, all the stories also involve either outsiders aiming to make a mark or fading artistes looking to sustain themselves any which way in the limelight. One wonders if Mudgal was playing safe with this book by not relating experiences, lived or imagined, of musicians at the peak of their careers. The tone and tenor of the stories would certainly have been different then—and perhaps a little more challenging. Notwithstanding this minor quibble, though, the stories are well-crafted and the book handsomely published. Readers will find it to be a true musical delight.