Her Song, Their Legacy: Kaushiki Chakraborty Breathes Life Into Forgotten Female Artists

This connection between sound, rhythm, and our very being underpins the spiritual and emotional depth of music. For Kaushiki Chakraborty, a torchbearer of the Patiala gharana and a celebrated luminary in Indian classical music, this connection is not merely philosophical but the very essence of her existence. 

SheThePeople explored Kaushiki Chakraborty's inspirational journey, as she reflects on how she has upheld her father, Padam Bhushan recipient Indian classical singer Ajoy Chakraborty's legacy while carving out her own identity, the representation of female artists in the music industry, and her efforts to bring Indian classical music to the global forefront. Through her 'Remembering Divas' initiative and the Sakhee group, Chakraborty celebrates the power of femininity and honours the greatest female artists of all time

The Genesis of a Musical Journey

Chakraborty's tryst with music began almost as early as her ability to speak. "I started my journey very, very early, like seven is still an age that I kind of can think about, but I think the age when I started singing at home with my parents and grandparents is somewhat like, you know, as soon as I could speak," she reminisces. "The first couple of letters—I think Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni, Sa—would have been the first words and the letters that I could pronounce. So, music has always been a part of my being, myself, my life, and my understanding of life."

Her first significant milestone came at the tender age of six when she recorded her first album, a gift for her grandfathers. "That was my first exposure to singing in a studio with some of the most eminent musicians of that time from Kolkata," she recalls. 

Chakraborty's prodigious talent soon found its way to larger audiences. At seven, she accompanied her father, the legendary Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty, on a concert tour in the United States, performing in over thirty concerts. "For every concert, my father would sing, and then there would be a break, and there would be a small section where I would sing, and then I would sing something with him in the second half of the concert," she recounts. 

As the daughter of Padma Bhushan recipient Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty, she was not only heir to a rich musical tradition but also to a deep understanding of the responsibilities that come with it. "I always say that I don't think I chose music. I think music chose me," she reflects. "It needed a medium to do its job and to serve its purpose. So I was brought into this entire scheme of things because I was chosen by music and I had to serve a purpose."

One of her pivotal moments came at the age of sixteen when she performed her first solo classical concert at the India Habitat Center in Delhi. The event was attended by stalwarts of Indian classical music, including Sunanjali Khan, Asad Ali Khan, and Allara Khan. “I remember all the luminaries sitting in the front row of the auditorium, and Zakir Uncle standing in the side wings,” she vividly recalls.

“Baba was playing the harmonium with me, and Samar Sahaji was playing tabla with me. It’s so vivid in my memory.” Her upbringing in a musically enriched environment laid a solid foundation, but it was her dedication that propelled her to success that day and now. "The biggest blessing of any performer's life is the acceptance from the audience," she acknowledges, expressing gratitude for the support she has received over the years. 

Sculpted by Legacy, Driven by Discipline

When speaking of Kaushiki Chakraborty, it's impossible to ignore the deep influence of her father, the legendary Ajay Chakraborty. To say he has merely influenced her would be an understatement; he has sculpted her life and career, much like an artist shapes a masterpiece from raw clay. 

As she reminisced about her journey from a young girl mesmerized by the early morning strains of her father's tanpura to becoming a celebrated musician in her own right, Chakraborty spoke eloquently about the transformative lessons of discipline, perseverance, and dedication instilled by her father.

"When I start talking about Baba," Chakraborty began, her voice resonating with reverence, "I understand how many layers of contribution someone can have in someone's life. This is not just as a daughter but as a disciple." Indeed, Ajay Chakraborty's daily ritual of beginning each morning with his tanpura, a practice driven purely by personal devotion rather than public recognition, left an impactful mark on Kaushiki's upbringing. "Every morning he would sit with his tanpura. For himself, not to teach or perform for anyone, but just for himself," she recalled fondly.

Her father's journey from a refugee family in Bangladesh to a revered classical singer in India epitomized the quintessential tale of overcoming adversity through sheer determination and talent. "Losing all they had, my grandparents came to West Bengal with the dream that their son would become an Indian classical singer," Kaushiki recounted. "Not many Bengalis have achieved what my father did in his time, starting from nothing." 

For Chakraborty, witnessing her father's dedication—from late-night rehearsals to humble beginnings—instilled an understanding of what it means to pursue virtuosity.

Even amid global uncertainties like the COVID-19 pandemic, where stages fell silent and concert halls emptied, Chakraborty found solace and motivation in her father's teachings. "Even if I would binge-watch a series on Netflix," she admits, "I would feel so guilty that I haven't practised enough. I would sit with my tanpura and do my riyaz. So now it has become a second, rather the first, self of mine that, your focus, your hard work, and your purpose are something that you nurture on an everyday basis. So even to my son, I tell him every day that, you know, at the end of the day, don't say that I am a singer, a music student or a musician. It's not a blanket term. It's one question you have to answer every day."

Chakraborty also reflects on the dual nature of her upbringing—blessed by the richness of her musical lineage yet burdened by its weight. "I've always been grateful for the legacy," she asserts, "but my childhood was not like that of an ordinary child." From a tender age, she was thrust into the spotlight, where every action, every note, was scrutinized not just as Kaushiki but as "Ajayji's daughter." The pressure to conform to expectations, and to excel without fault, was omnipresent. "I was not allowed to make a lot of mistakes," she reminisces, "because my actions reflected not just on me, but on my father and his stature."

The journey from being "Ajayji's daughter" to establishing her own identity as Kaushiki Chakraborty was filled with challenges.  For Chakraborty, the key moment of realization came in 2007, at the Savai Gandharv concert—a watershed event in her career. "That concert," she remembers with reverence, "was where I began to believe that my music could stand on its own."

Surrounded by the Maharashtrian audience, whose acceptance bolstered her confidence, Kaushiki found herself stepping out of her father's shadow and into her own musical identity. "My biological identity may be Bengali," she muses, "but my musical identity and confidence were nurtured by the Maharashtrian audience." 

Classical Music in the Modern Age

The evolution of Indian classical music over centuries reflects a convergence of diverse cultural influences. Chakraborty elucidates, "What we call classical music is an amalgamation of too many different kinds of music—Persian, Arabic, Chinese, and more." This fusion, borne from historical interactions along the Silk Route, continues to enrich classical music's fabric and goes beyond geographical boundaries and epochs.

Reflecting on the contemporary relevance of classical music, especially with all the dynamic shifts of the Gen Z era, Chakraborty stresses its adaptability and timeless appeal. "Music has also evolved like us," she states, highlighting how classical music continues to resonate with younger audiences despite changing preferences and technological advancements. "I think I've been extremely blessed," she humbly acknowledges, grateful for her ability to connect deeply with younger listeners while upholding the authenticity of the classical tradition.

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Her approach to bridging generational gaps through music is grounded in respect and understanding. "If we present the music the way it is with our utmost honesty and sincerity," she asserts, "the younger generation will connect." Chakraborty values the honesty and clarity of today's youth, recognizing their discerning taste and appreciating their unapologetic embrace of what resonates with them.

Beyond mere entertainment, Chakraborty sees classical music as a practice of sadhana, a disciplined journey that goes beyond mere skill. "It's not attaining any Nirvana," she explains, "but a realisation deeper than a skill set." This introspective aspect of music, she believes, offers a limitless path for personal growth and spiritual fulfillment, ring universally across ages and backgrounds,"Listening is not dependent on understanding," she emphasizes, urging listeners to engage with classical music without preconceived notions. 

"Music is a living, breathing tradition," Chakraborty asserts, rejecting the notion of classical music as a relic confined to museum walls. Instead, she embraces its evolutionary nature, mirroring the evolution of human experience. "As we change, our expressions change," she reflects, aligning music's growth with the collective evolution of society.

Celebrating Womanhood through Music

Sakhi, as Kaushiki fondly describes it, comes from a deep-seated desire to honour the multifaceted nature of femininity. "Sakhi started in my head as a thought when I heard, you know, our Ganga is Ma, Nature is Ma, and Prithvi is Ma, but the mothers don't have a choice in what they want to do in life," she explains, her voice carrying both conviction and compassion. " Our Devi for Shakti is Chandi and Kali, but women don't have power in society. Our Devi for Vidya is Saraswati, but we decide how much a girl will study. We sit across the table and discuss whether she should study or not. If she doesn't study, she will get married." 

For Chakraborty, the idea crystallized around the paradoxes and stereotypes that confine women in society despite venerating feminine qualities through goddesses like Chandi, Kali, and Saraswati.

Somewhere, we have our ideals set back in time, somebody thought that Vidya was best portrayed as feminine. Shakti is portrayed best as feminine. Shanti is portrayed best as feminine. Nature is portrayed best as feminine. So, someone must have thought it right and must have thought it for a reason. So, down the line, maybe we've lost that. Even if conceptually, ideally, we have it, but in practice, somewhere we have difficulty continuing with that ideal.

Sakhi, as Chakraborty describes it, is more than just a musical group—it is a homage to the multifaceted nature of womanhood. Comprising musicians and dancers from diverse disciplines, including tabla, bakhavaj, flute, violin, and Kathak, Sakhi represents a tapestry of artistic expressions unified by a singular vision—to honour and celebrate women in all their forms.

I am no activist. I have no other voice but the voice that sings.

"I always saw artists and never girls," she claims, highlighting her intention to elevate the conversation beyond gender stereotypes and focus on the artistic brilliance and cultural contributions of women throughout history. "We are six of us from different expressions of music coming together and celebrating who we are, celebrating womanhood," Chakraborty explains, her voice tinged with pride. "Each piece celebrates one aspect of womanhood and we just do it the best that we can."

Restoring Music's Primacy in Film

For her, music should not be relegated to mere background noise or a secondary element. It deserves to take centre stage, driving the stories and shaping the emotional domain of the audience.

If one story is told because of music, if the purpose of that storytelling is music, then only the musical side of it will get the prominence that it deserves.

She stresses the scarcity of films dedicated to the lives of legendary musicians like Gauhar Jaan, MS Subbulakshmi, and Begum Akhtar, whose contributions remain largely unrecognized on the silver screen. "In a country where these lives have happened, it's very, very unfortunate that we don't even have one movie, one feature, one production that is acclaimed and that has reached everybody," Chakraborty remarks with palpable disappointment.

As a singer and as a woman, I think I would have appreciated a movie or a project, something that nobody had to look for. It would have been just there, which would feature a female musician and their lives. Not for the other interesting aspects of their lives, but how music is, how music has been personified through that life, how every choice has been made keeping music as the priority. 

The Birth of 'Remembering Divas'

For Chakraborty, the genesis of this heartfelt endeavour arose from a deeply personal place—the realization that her teenage son, like many of his generation, consumed music without understanding its origins. "He would hum a song he heard on Instagram, not knowing its roots," she recalls. "That's when it struck me—these melodies, these stories—they are slipping away into obscurity. I couldn't stand the thought of these divas fading into anonymity."

This glaring discrepancy led Chakraborty to ponder the struggles faced by female musicians in the past. "Imagine 50 years, 100 years ago, how difficult it would have been for those who became icons in those days. 1902 is when Gaurajan recorded her first song. For her to come from a family that is broken, her mother converted and went to some other city, finding a place to live and then becoming the icon that she became."

Chakraborty's extensive research took her deep into the archives in Kolkata, where she unearthed forgotten stories and listened to recordings of female musicians who once held sway over the cultural world.  One of the most heartbreaking revelations in Chakraborty's research was the loneliness that marked the end of many of these female musicians' lives.

Chakraborty's recounting of Gauhar Jaan’s story is particularly touching. Gauhar Jaan, one of the first Indian recording artists, led an affluent and powerful life but died in obscurity. "A life-like Gauhar Jaan should never end like that. In a life like Gauhar Jaan, if you start looking for her, you find letters where she's saying - Please reduce my electricity bill; I haven't filed taxes; please don't kick me out of my house."

These discoveries were more than academic for Chakraborty. They were deeply emotional, prompting nights of tears and a deep sense of duty. "I have done my research. I've seen this side of those lives. And I've cried for days and nights. I've always felt, What are we doing? How can we conveniently forget them? And how can we conveniently make their songs beautiful at our own concerts? That's cruelty. I couldn't do that anymore."

'Remembering Divas' is more than a concert series; it is a powerful storytelling experience.  Chakraborty's approach is both innovative and respectful. She does not simply perform these classic pieces; she provides context, narrative, and a modern twist that bridges the gap between past and present.

"I don't bring their song and make my concert beautiful. I need to do a concert to bring them back and talk about them. I need to create an opportunity where I talk about them and then sing their song. I tell people who they were, who they are, and what impact they've had on the way we understand music today, and then sing their song to give them a narrative, to give them a perspective, to give them a background on what these lives have been."

Breaking Stereotypes Yet Finding Balance

Chakraborty acknowledges that, while societal factors and stereotypes still pose challenges, the primary battleground lies within oneself. "It's not about being equal," she explains, "but complementary." 

Her journey began with a lesson from her mother at the tender age of eleven, as she went on a solo trip from Kolkata to Bangalore for a concert. "When you go out alone, you're taking the respect of the family with you," her mother had told her.  Reflecting on this moment, Kaushiki stresses, "If mothers stop treating daughters as daughters and treat them as individuals, as human beings, it plants the first seed of confidence."

Years later, her journey into motherhood and marriage has not hindered her career but rather enriched it. "It takes a team," she clarifies, "led by the person who knows their purpose." However, the demands of a musical career alongside familial responsibilities haven't been without their challenges. "There are times when the balance shifts," she admits. "Life happens—we face hardships and unexpected turns. My son broke his hand while I was away for a concert in Boston. These are the moments we don't often share on social media, but they shape our reality."

For her, family isn't a static entity but an active, evolving commitment requiring daily renewal. "Family is a verb," she claims with conviction. "It takes work every day. You don't have a family, you do a family; you make a family every day."

Beyond technique, Chakraborty imbibed a deeper ethos of self-discipline and daily introspection. "At the end of the day, you ask yourself, 'Have I been a musician today? Have I practised enough to say I have lived the life of a singer?'"