Meet the Bansuri Wale Bauji of Ferozepur

Seeing flutes being sold outside the temple, I was reminded of my grandfather, a Krishna devotee and an amazing flautist, who was also known as Bansuri Wale Bauji.

Always immaculately dressed, he practised as a lawyer in Lahore and later in Ferozepur. At a time when men wore only dhotis or pyjamas, he was the first man in his village of Pakpattan near Lahore to don a pair of trousers and also own a car.

I vividly remember a 6ft x 6ft room that housed umpteen cartons containing flutes, of all kinds and sizes. He had so many; I don’t think he ever counted them. For my grandmother, it was a task to keep them clean and free from dust. His passionate flute session every evening was a given.

Getting off at the bus stand in Ferozepur, one summer evening, I recall my mother looking out for a rickshaw for us to go to dada-dadi’s home. She told the rickshaw-puller to take us to Church Road close by. He asked, “What is the kothi (house) number?” “It’s a big house. I’ll tell you when we get closer,” she said. When my mother pointed to the house, he said, “Madam, you should have just told me to head forbansuri Wale Bauji’s house.”

Bauji once expressed a wish to go to Naina Devi temple in Himachal Pradesh. And so it was. I remember all of us kids taking turns in holding Bauji’s hand, while he determinedly climbed up the then 709 stairs to the temple. A young old man he was!

On the way back, we stopped at Bhakra Nangal dam. Enjoying the cool breeze and the soothing sound of water, all of us stretched out to relax. Bauji took out a flute, as small as a fountain pen, from the upper pocket of his black lawyer’s coat. He played the flute like a master. His eyes closed; he was lost into oblivion. People gathered around to listen to that mellifluous live performance. It was simply divine.

One of them asked my dad about him. My dad proudly said, “He is my father. A lawyer from Ferozepur.” The man said, “Oh! Is he the Bansuri Wale Bauji of Ferozepur?” What a coincidence.

A flute is just a piece of hollow bamboo. A master craftsman punches the holes into it. A flautist raises it to his lips and blows air into it to create magic. Perhaps, if we make ourselves akin to a flute and allow the Lord to blow through us, we too shall utter only what He wills.

Bauji or Nandlal Punchhi, was a Krishna bhakt. He gave Krishna’s name Madan Mohan to his son (my father). My mother was called Sneh, but Bauji renamed her Meera. He was always lost in the thoughts of his beloved, Murli-manohar. He played the murli (flute) and manohar (beautiful) was the rendition that played out.

How come these memories came to me today? Is Bauji playing the bansuri somewhere in the cosmos? Oh yes, Krishna Janamasthmi is in the offing!

Call it nostalgia or impulse; I bought a bansuri today.

HE PLAYED THE FLUTE LIKE A MASTER. HIS EYES CLOSED; HE WAS LOST INTO OBLIVION. PEOPLE GATHERED AROUND TO LISTEN