It was another jarring note in the story of Bhatkhande Music Institute, one of India’s most respected establishments for the classical performing arts. A gulmohar tree on the institute’s boundary needed to be pruned, and an employee was "verbally" asked to do so. But once the job was done, the employee, a storekeeper, was suspended for stealing wood. He is just a year away from retirement, and is still too scared to speak of it.
That suspension illustrates most tellingly the disharmony in an institute that was deemed a university in 2000. Set up in 1926 as the Marris College of Music by Pandit Vishnu Narayan Bhatkhande, the institute’s vision was to make music education accessible to all. In 1966, it was renamed after its founder, a musician credited with developing the simplest, most precise system of notation for Hindustani music.
The building that houses the institute is in Lucknow’s Qaiserbagh heritage zone. It was once the 'Pari Khana' (Abode of Fairies) of Awadh’s last nawab, Wajid Ali Shah. It was here that practised the dancers who played fairies in Inder Sabha—the first complete stage play in Urdu—to the Shah’s prince. The original building was destroyed in the revolt of 1857.
“When the British rebuilt it, they retained its original aesthetics and did not impose their own style of architecture on it,” said Mehmood Abdi, 60, a lawyer who is an exponent of Awadh history and culture. Thus, within its airy rooms and beneath its imposing domes, one can still be transported to a time when the most resplendent singers, dancers and musicians of the age carved an upward arc of Awadh’s cultural life.
"We were taught by giants of music," said Anup Jalota, among Bhatkhande’s best known alumni. "The mere sight of them was a darshan (like seeing a holy person). They evoked such deep feelings of respect that it became innate to touch their feet and seek their blessings." Jalota, 67, is a singer of a variety of songs, and bears the title 'Bhajan Samrat' (emperor of devotional songs).
For singer-composer-music director Vivek Prakash and his peers, Bhatkhande was as sacred as it was magical. "We would say, 'Sunday ho ya Monday, roz jayein Bhatkhande (Be it Sunday or Monday, we go to Bhatkhande every day),'" he said.
The grant of a deemed university status to Bhatkhande, which made it the country’s only music university, was ostensibly to put the institute's certifications on par with other universities. This would enable students to earn qualifications that would meet the criteria for jobs under the University Grants Commission (UGC). But the funds for it were granted by the state’s department of culture, rather than that of higher education. The government remained unclear on the limits of its autonomy. Thus began Bhatkhande’s unravelling.
Purnima Pande, 72, was Bhatkhande’s principal when the status was granted. She was designated director, while a search for a vice-chancellor was launched. Pande, a kathak danseuse of international repute said: "The grant of the status was a matter of great joy for us all for it would help students in their professional aspirations. But something went wrong. Perhaps the VCs did not have clear knowledge of norms and rules or perhaps these were not spelled out explicitly."
Inherent in this ambiguous status was a clash between artistic freedom and the tangle of government rules. Appointments were made for posts that were not advertised and appointees lacked the requisite educational qualifications. Salaries were delayed and pensions went missing.
In 2009, for the first time in its history, Bhatkhande had a 49-day strike. “We were protesting the arbitrary removal of two contractual teachers. We had decided that we would have to fight for our respect if it was not being duly accorded,” said Dharamnath Mishra, 72, a doyen of the Banaras gharana who was then teaching at the institute.
Today, as per the institute’s website, there is one case against it before the Supreme Court, and 41 before the Allahabad High Court. Most of these are against compulsory retirement, dismissal from service, denial of pension and non-payment of salary.
Biju Kumar Bhagwati, 49, a vocalist with six books to his name, had been working in Bhatkhande for 12 years when he received a letter in 2010 saying his services were no longer required. Bhagwati, a doctorate, had seen no indications of this coming. His initial posting had been against a vacancy created by a leave. After the on-leave teacher passed away he was offered a contract which said that his services could be terminated without reason at any time. Yet, he thought an appeal to the then VC, Shruti Sadolikar, would elicit a favorable response. "I told her I had just been married. She turned around and asked me if she had asked me to do so," said Bhagwati, who now teaches at a school in Lucknow, his talent underutilised.
The genesis of Bhatkhande’s problems did not arise overnight. In 2018, a report on the management of universities in Uttar Pradesh dedicated a whole chapter to it. It labelled the institute as "...largely unenviable... as regards its infrastructure, faculty and position" and said that much of this was caused by the state government. The problems were listed under two categories—those born out of government inaction and those arising out of government’s lack of perception. It dwelt at some length on two of the knottiest issues—the lack of regularisation of existing and operational posts and the erratic transfer of funds from the state government to the institute. 'Permanent insecurity' and 'fraught with unnecessary tension' were the phrases it used to describe the fallout of these conditions on faculty and staff, and consequently on students. Most of the disharmony that Bhatkhande’s staff speak of stems from this. The arts, after all, do not flourish in conditions of disquiet and apprehension.
Sarang Pandey, 51, a tabla teacher at Bhatkhande, said: "It becomes difficult to teach with dedication amid uncertainty. It becomes difficult to discipline students."
In December 2020, the state government sacked the VC Shruti Sadolikar Katkar, a popular khyal vocalist. A three-member committee, headed by a retired High Court judge, had examined 15 charges of financial and administrative irregularity against her. She later challenged her removal in the Lucknow bench of the High Court. Over a phone call from Mumbai, Katkar, 69, said: "Despite all odds, I upheld the dignity of the institution and never did anything to compromise its reputation.”
She spoke of her unusually long tenure with two extensions since she was first appointed in 2009 and underscored the fact that she had served under four governors (the de-facto chancellor of all universities in a state) and how that could not have been possible if she had been wrong. She spoke of the opportunities she created for students to showcase their talents—including the building of an auditorium (Kala Mandapam) within the institute premises, and the setting up of awards (with her own funds) in her parents' name for the highest scoring vocal music undergraduate and postgraduate students.
"Towards the end of my tenure, I faced a lot of resistance from all corners of the government and administration. I remained firm in my belief that I had served the institution well to preserve its historical and cultural importance,” she said.
She did not speak about the content of the charges against her as the matter is subjudice but said: "I was being forced to resign and when I refused to comply with the arbitrary and unjust demand I had to face the administrative wrath which led to my removal from the office one day before my date of retirement."
Such discord has, as Jalota said, “dented a little” the reputation of the institute. Ranjana Dwivedi, 58, an assistant professor at the institute said, "When Bhatkhande became a deemed university, it was like a child left in the wilderness, with no one willing to nourish it."
Pande said, “The state government will have to take interest. Without norms, rules and financial security, the best infrastructure and the most qualified faculty will fail."
Sadolikar said, "The autonomy of the institute is sacred and must be put on the highest pedestal. Unnecessary interference must stop." This is a suggestion also incorporated in the New Education Policy of July 2020, which proposes to encourage autonomous institutions to work freely.
To those who lament the fall of the institute, the damage inflicted by the branches of the overgrown gulmohar are still visible—a reminder of all that remains discordant in Bhatkhande.