Swami Jaari al-Cornelsi plays Raag 'Evening'

The events leading to my meeting with Swami Jaari al-Cornelsi began with a chance meeting with an old wandering sahdu at a great festival in Banaras in Spring 1903. According to many tales, Jaariji was a British Army officer who, sickened by the massacre in Banaras during the 1857 rebellion, resigned his commission and headed alone into the foothills of the Himalayas, never again to be seen by British eyes.
Jaariji remained hidden until, in 1872, stories began circulating of a holy man who had gained knowledge of the primordial sound Om; who, through sublime singing, chanting and playing of the veena, could quieten an angry elephant, heal the sick and the mad, bring abundance to the fields and many other miracles. It was said this holy man was fair of skin and had been born of a British mother in Calcutta, though his soul was Indian. These fantastic tales even reached the pages of the Times of India although the educated classes, of course, dismissed these as the fantastical imaginings of ignorant rural minds.
I had first come across these tales during my time studying at the University of Allahabad. It’s founder, Sir William Muir, was said to have known Jaariji as a young Army officer and held him in high regard. By Spring 1903, I was working for the Archaeological Museum in Sarnath and so was fated to meet the old sahdu in Banaras leading to my extraordinary encounter with Swami Jaari al-Cornelsi and the changing of my life forever.
The old sahdu claimed to be a disciple of Jaariji, having spent 20 years or more studying with him before setting out to wander alone 4 or 5 years previously. I shall not go into the details of the stories he told me but, suffice to say, my interest was piqued and I felt I had to meet this ‘holy man’. I persuaded the old sadhu to lead me into the high Himalayas to the mysterious ‘British’ Swami.
So it was I gained leave of absence from the Museum for three months and set off with the old sahdu and a pack mule loaded with all necessary provisions and, most importantly, an Edison phonograph and a box of the very latest Edison Gold Moulded cylinders.
I shall not go into the details of the journey but it was a long and difficult road. My first feelings upon finally meeting Jaariji were of astonishment and bewilderment. The pale, white suited man before me was evidently no ordinary man. He had a warm, engaging smile, a sense of calm serenity. He had easy confidence and a naturally melodious voice, speaking fluent English but without the usual colonial received pronunciation. Most perplexingly, he was a young man. Could this really be Jaari al-Cornelsi? If he had left Banaras in 1857 as a young officer in his early twenties, that would make him around seventy years old now. But the man I met appeared no older than thirty-five, maybe forty. He radiated an aura of other-worldliness. Other-timeliness even.
Over the next seven days, I spent many long hours in enthralled conversation with Jaariji. His knowledge covered science, religion, art, engineering. Much of what he spoke of, I could hardly follow. But in the evenings he would sing or play. He played the veena, the sitar, all manner of percussion instruments. But his favoured instrument was unusual - a guitar of the latest design by C.F. Martin & company with steel strings.
On our final evening together, he agreed to allow me to make a recording of him playing this unusual instrument on the Edison phonograph. To my knowledge, this is the only extant sound recording of Swami Jaari al-Cornelsi. It is with deep gratitude and profound admiration that I present this rare gift to the world.

- Prof. V.K.Hira, Sarnath, 21st November 1949


© Steve Baker 2011