Just Like That | The hidden stories behind Pandit Jasraj’s rise to greatness

The lives of legends often have remarkable stories hidden behind the dazzling arc lights of their success. A few evenings ago, at an informal dinner at home, one of my guests was the artist Vasundhara Tewari Broota. A fine artist in her own right, she is perhaps somewhat overshadowed by the iconic stature of her husband, Rameshwar Broota—one of India’s most celebrated and highly valued contemporary artists.

Vasundhara’s mother, the late Som Tewari, was a devoted exponent of Indian classical music and the arts. In the 1940s and 50s, while living in Kolkata, she first crossed paths with Jasraj. Born in the village of Pili Mandori in Hisar, Haryana, Jasraj belonged to a family steeped in classical music. His eldest brother, Pandit Mani Lal, was a gifted vocalist and Som Tewari’s guru in Kolkata.

Jasraj initially trained as a tabla player, accompanying Pandit Mani Lal in performances. But by the age of 14, he realized that his true calling was classical vocal music. His elder brother, however, felt that abandoning years of rigorous training as a percussionist to become a vocalist was unwise. This is where Som Tewari entered the picture.

Though she deeply respected her guru, she could not prevent young Jasraj from slipping into her home to practice singing in secret. Eventually, he moved in with her, practising for hours on end. Torn between her loyalty to her guru and her recognition of Jasraj’s extraordinary talent, she imposed one condition: he could not stay at her home when her husband was away. On those nights, Jasraj found shelter in a tailor’s tiny khoka—a hole-in-the-wall shop near her house. The cramped space had only a makeshift table for ironing clothes. When the tailor left in the evening, Jasraj would sleep under the table.

From these humble beginnings—quite literally—Jasraj rose to become a legend. In 1960, he met Madhura Shantaram, daughter of renowned filmmaker V. Shantaram, and they married in 1962. Jasraj then moved to Mumbai, where his fame steadily grew. At just 22, he performed his first public concert at the court of King Tribhuvan Bir Bikram Das of Nepal. Over time, he became one of the most sought-after classical vocalists in the country.

His success was built on relentless riyaz and sadhana. With effortless ease, he scaled all five octaves while delicately unfolding a raga. His artistry lay in seamlessly blending haveli sangeet—devotional temple music—with the classical tradition. Yet, he could also sing with profound depth in the deep tones of Raga Bhairav, moving listeners with the evocative bandish: Mero Allah Meherbaan—"My Allah is Kind."

More than just a maestro, Pandit Jasraj was an extraordinary human being. I had the privilege of knowing him personally and, in an earlier column, shared how he once sang, uninhibited and full-throated, one of my favourite ragas at 30,000 feet while we were on a flight together.

Som Tewari, who passed away in 2015, had moved to Delhi in 1972, where she founded Sangeet Shyamala, an institution dedicated to the visual and performing arts. In 1984, it found a permanent home in Vasant Vihar, South Delhi, on land allocated to it. My children, along with many generations after them, have studied the great traditions of our arts there. Today, Vasundhara carries forward this legacy.

That evening at my home, Vasundhara recalled how, on Pandit Jasraj’s 90th birthday, she received a call from him out of the blue. Speaking from New Jersey—where he spent half the year, having established several schools for classical music in the US—he had reached out simply to express gratitude. He wanted to thank those who, in some way, had shaped his journey. It was a tribute to Vasundhara’s mother, Som Tewari—the woman who had unknowingly played a pivotal role in his life, giving him a space to practice when few knew his name, and who had once seen him sleep under a tailor’s table.

On Som Tewari’s 90th birthday, she lay in the ICU, fighting for her life. In those final moments, Pandit Jasraj was there—singing for her.