Mumbai, October 26: THE curved steps of these hallowed premises have welcomed many-a-celebrity including C Rajagopalachari, Bill Gates, hordes of VIPs and prime ministers, the last one being A B Vajpayee who visited a building that houses a Moral Movement that began to take shape in 1938 even before our political freedom did.

The dome-like structure looks down disdainfully on crowds hovering around a juice shop and a medical shop in the opposite corner. A stone’s throw away from Chowpatty the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan stands as a cultural conscience of India.

Bhavan’s auditorium ensconced within the structure, in the 40s and 50s, warmly embraced artistes from all over India. Here, standing on the same famed steps, Pandit Ramnarayan (75) points to the auditorium and says, ‘‘That was the place where I gave some of my best performances with the likes of Ustad Amir Khan.’’

Padma Bhushan Ramnarayan, the man who’s name is synonymous with the sarangi, was single-handedly responsible for bringing the sarangi out of the kothas and gave it the dignity it deserves as a stage instrument; the man who came from Pakistan during the partition and struggled as a casual artiste at Akashavani, Delhi; one, who on the advice of Ustad Amir Khan and others, came to Mumbai in 1949, to a metropolis bristling with opportunities.

Pandit Ramnarayan came and stayed in Chopda Nagar near Kemps Corner, only to find that concerts were few and far between a trip to the Parisian Café opposite the Queen’s Necklace, were the norm everyday, as the greats met there to discuss music over steaming cups of chai.

‘‘Aamir Khan, Ustad Latafat Hussain Khan of the Agra gharana, Kadim Hussain Khan and others would discuss the faults of the gharanas threadbare, and all in good humour,’’ he laughs, reminiscing the art scene of those times. Taking a turn down the corridor, and entering the dark empty auditorium, he sighs as the stage lights up, ‘‘The concert here with artistes like Bade Gulam Ali Khan, Omkarnath Thakur and almost all leading artistes were a great joy,’’ he points to the now vacant front row, ‘‘All the leading artistes used to come to the concerts which gave the performer an impetus,’’ says he, bemoaning that now concert halls have been taken over by showmanship.

‘‘Musicians hardly attend other’s concerts, they are too busy becoming popular by hook or by crook,’’ says the firebrand musician.

So how did the building become a mecca of music? Interestingly, the building’s first inspiration was Sanskrit.

The courses sprouted from the Sanskrit classes that were held in temples like Mumbadevi, Mahalaksmi and Babulnath, and later shifted to Bhavan’s. Incidentally, the temple of Mumbadevi was where Victoria Terminus now stands, and was shifted when the station was built more than 150 years ago.

It was on a cool November day in 1948, that the Bhavan’s building was opened by Rajaji, the then Governor General of India. ‘‘Started in 1950, Bhavan’s Kalakendra has been at the root of many careers in music and drama. Actors like Sanjeev Kumar, Amjad Khan and Asha Parekh, started their acting careers here,’’ reveals Homi N Dastur, 60, Deputy Executive secretary and director of Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan. It now has centres in 110 cities and five abroad and the kendra has training in various performing arts and more, ‘‘including one for dramatics and one even chess!’’ reveals Dastur. The founder of the Movement, Kulapati Dr K M Munshi, writes in a book, ‘‘The idea of the Bhavan was an inspiration in two minds that thought in terms of a cultural Swaraj which must herald and later stabilise political Swaraj when it is achieved.’’

Back to the 50s with Pandit Ramnarayan. With a lot of spare time on him, showbiz was but a natural lure. Something from which the world of film music gained tunes like Hum behudi mein tumko pukare chale gaye, when he inspired S D Burman, while playing for the film Guide or hordes of other tunes like Laga chunri mein daag when he suggested it to Roshan or even S Ramachandra’s Tum kya jaano tumhari yaad mein. Ramnarayan’s sarangi strained through films like Mughal-e-azam, Adalat, Noorjehan and Kashmir ki kali (he was O P Nayyar’s favourite).

Like all struggles, this one ended well: first it gave the sarangi the platform that he wished for; secondly, his brother Pandit Chaturlal, the tabla artiste having already conquered audiences abroad, set him on to an unstoppable tour of Europe, USA and Canada in 1964, putting the artiste on the world map. ‘‘The last time I played at the Bhavan’s auditorium was in 1986. Rang Bhavan and Birla Matushree seem to be the more popular venues now,’’ he observes.

As the veteran climbed the ladder, his feet were firmly planted in other countries, ‘‘Overseas audiences are so interested, they are all taught a basic knowledge of western classical music. In India, we suffer from musical illiteracy.’’ Choosy with concerts and with a deluge of invitations from abroad, Pandit Ramnarayan of the soulful melodies, is lost to India for months on end, ‘‘I’m into promoting new talent every year through the Acharya Pandit Ramnarayan Trust,’’ he assures us. As we leave the Bhavan towards Gaylord, he points out in delight to the place where Parisian Cafe stands, waves of memory sweeping over this songster with the sarangi.