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MS Anantharaman passes away

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Violin maestro Parur MS Anantharaman is no more.

                                                 

We are deeply distressed to receive news of the death of violin great MS Anantharaman at Chennai.

Born on 26 August 1924 at Madras, Anantharaman was a son and disciple of Parur A. Sundaram Iyer,the eminent violinist and pioneering guru wresponsible for the spread of the violin beyond Carnatic music into Hindustani music as well. Anantharaman received training in playing the veena as well as the violin, and in Hindustani music. 

A long-time exponent, Anatharaman besides giving solo recitals and trio concerts with his two violin-playing sons,accompanied many renowned musicians in their performances in India and abroad. A teacher with a fine reputation, he served the Tamil Nadu Government Music College in Chennai as professor of violin from 1962 to 1983. Subsequently, he taught in Pittsburgh, U.S.A., for some time.

Abdul Halim Jaffer Khan

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Birthdays & Anniversaries

18.2.1929
Sitar maestro Abdul Halim Jaffer Khan, who passed away at his Bandra (Mumbai) residence on 4 January 2017, was in the league of such great names in the field as Ravi Shankar, Vilayat Khan and Nikhil Banerjee. He effortlessly straddled the worlds of Hindustani classical music and Hindi cinema, and established ‘Jafferkhani baaj’—a unique style of playing the instrument. He was highly decorated, receiving such awards as the Tantri Vilas, Padma Shri, Padma Bhushan, Tagore Samman and the Central Sangeet Natak Akademi Award.

How did Halim Jaffer Khan achieve such eminence at a time when the legendary sitar triumvirate were at their peak? This question haunted me, and I put it to him when, during his last Kolkata visit in 2004, I met him at the residence of his prime disciple Harashankar Bhattacharya, whom he fondly addressed as his ‘bada beta’ (elder son). He took the question very sportingly and answered, “Riyaaz ki roshni ne raah kar di” (Devoted practice illuminated my path) and my disciples are now following it. In 1976, I founded the Halim Academy of Sitar in Mumbai. Zunain, my sondisciple and a few dedicated disciples like Prasad Joglekar and Gargi Shinde have come forward to take care of the Academy; and Harashankar founded Madhyami here in Kolkata to promote and propagate Jafferkhani baaj. His boy Deepshankar is showing great promise of keeping the flag flying high.”

I asked him why he called his style ‘Jafferkhani’ and not ‘Indore’ as a member of the Indore beenkar Abdul Halim Jaffer Khan (1927-2017) Meena Banerjee gharana that follows the tradition of Ustad Bande Ali Khan. He patiently explained that since his playing method had experienced a paradigm shift from the tradition he belonged to, and since his singer father had sowed the seeds to invent new traditions within the tradition, he dedicated this baaj to his father Jaffer Khan.

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Sharad Sathe

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                                                             Birthdays & Anniversaries


Theatre Olynpics

Imitation Gold

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By V Ramnarayan

Ponnadai! What magic the word wrought, when as a kid, you read it in Tamil historical novels or poetry! Everytime you came across a raja honouring a poet in sheer amazement at his extraordinary talent, you imagined a robe as resplendent as the shower of gold coins with which he rewarded him. After all, the word ponnadai meant a golden garment or golden shawl, didn't it?

I saw a ponnadai in real life for the first time perhaps in the 1980s. It was no golden shawl, but it was silk, a nice tan colour and had a zari border. It was something someone might have happily worn over his jibba without feeling seriously embarrassed. This was at a function to honour a musician.

Since then, I have seen many shawls through the decades, shawls that dignitaries wrapped around other dignitaries on the dais (or dias, to be more precise), not to mention yours truly. These once second rate pieces of cloth have got steadily cheaper and uglier, so that they are now worse than third rate in colour, texture and overall quality, so gaudy that you need protective eyewear to look at them, so flimsy that they come apart in your hands even before you descend from the stage. 

What does the receiver of a ponnadai do with it? I tried giving mine away to the watchman, rickshawwallah and milkman, but none of them was interested. They invariably said, "This is totally useless, sir. Who'll want it?" Can't you use it as a blanket?" I asked one of them. The withering look he gave me was in the Ajit or Rajnikant class of sarcasm and subtle warning. A musician I met the other day recalled how an organiser pounced on him after he wrote to his sabha that instead of decorating him with a shawl they could give the Rs. 100 or so to charity. Another friend of mine confesses that she consigns shawls to the nearest dustbin, often inside airports if she has received them while travelling. "In the US, NRIs insist on inflicting cheap shawls they bought in Chennai on us!"

There was a theory some years ago that the shawl draped around you today is perhaps a second hand one, something an earlier recipient disposed of in the flea market. I am informed by a very reliable source that this is standard practice in the film industry. At best it is a ponnadai that the sabha secretary was adorned with last month and kept safe for the person he has decided to "honour" today. At worst, I think it is an atrocious insult delivered to its innocent recipient. The insult is compounded by the casual so-called felicitation address by someone who has no clue who you are, and sometimes turns to you and asks you to fill in the blanks when he forgets your name or initialsall this while two other so-called dignitaries on the stage are engaged in their own loud conversation. Humiliatingly, the crowd in the audience begins to grow from 20 or so to a decent number towards the end of the function, because there's a concert scheduled to follow.

If India ever develops a national culture policy (something we haven't done in 70m years), I hope the first casualty will be this disgusting practice. Ban ponnadais!

V. G. Jog

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                                                              Birthdays & Anniversaries

22.2.1922 - 31.1.2004

FROM THE EDITOR

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Sruti, February 2018

Carnatic music has been going through a longish phase of a relative lack of interest in instrumental music concerts despite recent attempts at veena or nagaswaram festivals. Perhaps it is time for organisers and musicians to find new ways of attracting audiences to these programmes. Does the answer lie in the inclusion of specific compositions for instrumental music in concerts otherwise offering the usual spread of well established kritis the audience can identify? Artists like Ganesh-Kumaresh, and surely other instrumentalists, have achieved some success in such ventures. Even if the core value of instrumental Carnatic music is represented by the gayaki style of playing, the strengths and unique qualities of different instruments are exploited to the hilt by their best exponents. Examples abound among both wind and string instruments. Veena concerts at their best do make the best use of the instrument’s special affinity for tanam playing. The flute is of course at its most exciting when it is not merely song-oriented, but while offering a variety of rivetting soundscapes in its manodharma segments. The violin in the hands of a master can convince you that it was made for Carnatic music.

How do we bring instrumental music centrestage? Does the answer lie in specially curated, properly publicised chamber concerts which give the audience a total listening experience? Ideally, these should be acoustic concerts, played on acoustic instruments.

One of the innovations of the past two decades has been the preponderance of contact microphones adopted by veena players, violinists, even ghatam players! Some of us do not enjoy the sound produced by microphone-aided instruments, and seriously wish our favourite musicians would go back to playing ‘unplugged’. Elsewhere in this issue, however, a critic has expressed his pleasure at listening to the sound of a particular artist’s veena with a contact microphone. Is it a case of the artist finding the correct microphone which produces the appropriate tone, which would mean that the problem lies with the tonal quality produced rather than the amplification itself?

We at Sruti spoke some years ago to a violinist of repute about the possibility of his taking part in concerts giving as much importance and time to the instrumentalist as the vocalist, practically offering a vocalist-violinist jugalbandi of sorts. The violinist thought it was an idea worth pursuing, which we failed to do, but T.M. Krishna’s concerts in recent years have been offering greater scope for the violinist, in fact, equal opportunity. Especially when he leaves the onus of the raga alapana or tanam to the violinist, he also avoids the risk of boredom or repetitiveness that can occur when the violin plays follow the leader. In an ideal vocal-instrumental jugalbandi, we could have the two artists playing individually for about half an hour each, before they come together as a duo after that, as is fairly common in Hindustani music.

The well trained human voice with sruti suddham and deep emotional appeal can touch a chord in a certain type of listener. Here I refer not to the impact of lyrics soaked in bhakti but to the ability of raga music to move the aesthetically evolved rasika, and there is no reason why such rasanubhava cannot be experienced in instrumental music. It is time to present such music regularly to the listening public.
V. RAMNARAYAN

Parvati Kumar

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27.2.1921

Mandolin U. Shrinivas

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Birthdays & Anniversaries

 
28.2.1969 - 19.9.2014
Much loved, much adored Mandolin U. Shrinivas, who remained a boy wonder all his life, is no more. He was a frail, shy teenager when he appeared on the cover of Sruti’s inaugural issue in October 1983, along with D.K. Pattammal, Lakshmi Viswanathan and Sonal Mansingh. Founder-editor N Pattabhi Raman concluded his profile of the child prodigy with the passage: “Meteors are transient; they describe a fiery streak in the sky and then burn themselves out. Stars stay with us, adding sparkle to our life. It is the hope of almost everyone who has been exposed to the luminosity of Srinivas’s music (that is how he spelt his name then) that he will turn out to be a star on the firmament of South Indian classical music.”

There are those that believe Shrinivas had accomplished so much in his brief sojourn on earth, that it should not matter that he was snatched away in his prime just as Srinivasa Ramanujan and Subramania Bharati were. It is hard to agree with such a sentiment. At 45, he had many years of glorious creativity ahead of him, his music poised for a greatness beyond what he offered the world over the last three decades. The way he approached ragas, his new interpretations of them in recent years, suggested that the best of Mandolin Shrinivas was yet to come.

He was all of 14 when we at Sruti first interacted with him.He had already floored the most demanding rasikas of Mylapore and Mambalam, Perambur and Nungambakkam, on their own home turf in concert after concert, with hi  spectacular raga essays and swara fusillades. He was tiny, tongue-tied, knew very little Tamil and less English. He was respectful, even deferential in his dealings with parents, guru, mentors, sabha secretaries and mediapersons, yet he was comfortable in his skin. Here was a boy completely free from self doubt, while at the same time totally bereft of airs.

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The Rama story as embellished by Kamban

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The story of Rama, perhaps, began in the collective unconscious of the ancient tribes, who inhabited India in the distant past.. The story could have remained as an oral tradition for a long time that later found expression in a written form in the Buddha Jataka tales (5th century BCE). It was an essential part of the spiritual mythography of Buddhism. It was a simple and straightforward fable, wherein Rama represented one of the evolutionary stages of Gautama, the Buddha, before he attained Nirvana. There was only one twist in the story, the self- exile of Rama to the Himalayas to avoid the wrath of his step-mother. The Buddhist version scrupulously avoided war and violence befitting its satvic tradition

Valmiki, hailed as Atikavi (‘the first poet’), collected the various myths and legends of his time, obtained in the different parts of the Indian sub-continent and integrated them with the Rama story, bringing to bear upon the narration a thematic continuity, set in a vast canvass that spread over from Nepal in the north to SriLanka down under. Because of this inclusive setting, all the regions identified themselves with the epic, each in its own distinctive way, that when it got rendered in the language of the region, this impact of various cultural and linguistic diversities helped the story acquire a pan-Indian character. Ramayana became the intrinsic aspect of the Indian cultural psyche.

In the West, when they brought out Homer and Virgil in the European languages, the yardstick that was used to consider the quality of such works was their fidelity to the original in form and content. In the Indian context, our cultural tradition conceded a certain amount of literary freedom to those who rendered the original in their languages because those who were engaged in this stupendous task, were, invariably poets in their own right.

Ramayana exists in thirteen languages of the country and in innumerable folk versions. Each one offers us, a distinctive regional flavour, that happily integrates with the main theme.

Kamban (12th century CE), who all that was the best in the Tamil literary tradition,( the Sangam classics belonging to the early centuries of the Christian era, Thirukural, the unparalleled literary manual for personal and social conduct, Cilappadikaram, the most elegant and sophisticated epic by a Chera prince called Ilango and most of all, the spontaneous devotional outpourings of the mystic poets of the bhakti period), chose to write the Rama story, not merely for ‘justifying the ways of God to man’ but out of‘sheer love for narrating the story’ and ‘ poetic tribute and respect for Valmiki, the Atikavi’, as he did declare at the beginning of the epic. But Kamban did not translate the Valmiki’s Ramayana but trans-created it with masterly and subtle structural changes to suit his own literary views and concepts, without offending the sequential order of narration in the original

Kamban was a conscious literary artist, who had this thing clear in his mind that what he proposed to write was a literary piece and not a religious work that was how Valmiki’s Ramayana came to be known, during the period of Kamban, though Valmiki might not have intended it so.. The commentators for the religious works, at the time of Kamban, profusely quoted from Valmiki to drive home their sectarian views, which could have, perhaps, unsettled Kamban that he decided his work should be uncompromisingly literary giving no leeway for religious hijacking.

Though Rama had begun to be worshipped as the incarnation of Vishnu by the time Kamban wrote Ramayana, he, in his invocation poems, did not refer to any sectarian deity, but saluted the One that went on creating, protecting and annihilating the Universe and which was an endless game by itself.. Throughout the epic at several places, he  referred to this One guiding principle of the Universe, which, he categorized as the Supreme Reality.

A romantic as well as a philosophical description of a dramatic incident occurring in the Rama story, as described by Kamban, could sum up his view on religion. Rama, as he was on his way to the court of Janaka, the beautiful women of Mithila rushed to their balconies to catch a view of this handsome young man. Those, who looked at his shoulder continued to be looking at it, because it was so beautiful. Those, who looked at his feet could not take away their stare elsewhere. And the same story with those, who caught a glimpse of his sinewy hands. No one saw the complete fascinating figure of the Ayodhya prince. Kamban did not stop with this romantic imagery. He declared that like the sectarian views of different religions on God that failed to comprehend the Oneness of the Ultimate Principle, the women of Mithila saw only one physical aspect of Rama and not his whole figure.

It is often said by the critics of the Rama legend, that whereas, Valmiki treated Rama as a human-being, the later poets who retold the story raised him to divinity by making him an incarnation of Vishnu. It is true that at the time Kamban wrote his Ramayana, Rama was worshipped as an avatara of Vishnu, but to the credit of Kamban it must be said he treated Rama as one of the most loveable human characters, who befriended all, high and low, as his fellow brethren irrespective of their station in life.

Guha, the hunter, who helped Rama cross the river, was so friendly and affectionate towards him that Kamban’s Rama, treating him as his equal told him, ‘ My brother Lakshmana is your younger brother, my wife Sita is your sister-in-law and all of us belong to the same fraternity’. In Valmiki’s Ramayana, one feels the comradeship between Rama and Guha as described by Kamban is somewhat missing. Rama’s love for Guha left such an impact on Sita, that, when she was imprisoned in Asokavana by Ravana, she recollected this incident in her nostalgic odyssey.

Kamban’s delineated even the minor characters with deft touches of psychological insights. He crafts Kumbakarna, the brother of Ravana, as a tragic hero torn between loyalty and justice, totally unlike the character as appearing in Valmiki’s Ramayana.

Kumbakarna was an uncouth figure, a man-mountain, a glutton and a demon in Valmiki’s Ramayana. But with Kamban’s golden touch, he emerged to dizzy heights of glory, becoming as great as Bishma Pithamaha and Radheya(Karna) in Mahabharata. As one sees Kamban’s  portrayal of Kumbakarna, he cannot but conclude that all these three characters(Kumbakarna , Bhishma and Radheya) were Destiny’s children, cursed, as they were, to fight for the wrong side. Towards presenting Kumbakarna this way, Kamban deviated from the original and set up a scene in which Vibhishana met Kumbakarna in the battle-field to request him to join Rama, as he was also opposed to the abduction of Sita by Ravana.

Kamban achieved two objectives by presenting this scene  One, Vibhishana had to be justified  in his action for deserting his brother and joining his enemy and the other ,the character of Kumbakarna had to be glorified, as an heroic man of great integrity, full of love and compassion for his brothers.

Refusing to join the Rama camp, Kamban’s Kumbakarna replied : ‘No. What you have done is right by joining Rama. Because you were always a peace-loving man and against all illegal battles. You tried your best to convince Ravana to leave Sita and avoid war, but he exiled you and threatened to kill you if you did not leave the country. In your case, it is a question of ideology. Right versus Wrong. For such people, love for the kin or country does not matter. People who stand by justice transcend such narrow barriers. But, I had been participating in all the wars that our brother was engaged, whether they were for right or wrong causes. True, I protested against this unethical behaviour of our brother in abducting another man’s wife. But, having fought with him all along, I cannot desert him and especially now, when he is facing defeat. It would be selfishness on my part to do so. So leave me now to face my fate. From this.moment we are not brothers, we are enemies. I will not hesitate to vanquish Rama’s army.. Life is transitory but values are eternal.’

At the time, when Kamban’s Kumbarna lay dying, he said to Rama: ‘ I request you to promise me two things. The first is to aim an arrow to throw my body into the sea, as I do not want my enemies to see my much mutilated body. Secondly, I leave my dear brother Vibhishana in your trust, as I know, he would be the first target for Ravana, when he arrives at the battle-field to fight with you.’

Kumbarkana’s defence of Vibhishana raises an issue in the modern text. What is patriotism? Were all the good citizens of Germany, who left their country during Hitler’s rule, unpatriotic? Kamban’s Kumbakarna has the answer; ‘People who stand by justice transcend such narrow barriers’ as patriotism, nationalism etc one may add.

Kamban’s concept of fraternity cut across not only the caste regulations, as we saw earlier as in the case of Guha, but national borders as well. Kamban continued expanding this theme of fraternity by making Rama claim Sugriva, the monkey chief as his sixth brother and later, Vibishana, the  asura prince and brother of his mortal enemy Ravana as his seventh brother. ‘Now that we are seven, your father in heaven Dasaratha would feel immensely happy”, Rama told Vibhishana.  Kamban had a way with words, which is evident here by the way Rama addressed Vibhishana in an inclusive manner by his reference to Dasaratha as Visbishana’s father that was a master stroke which could have put the latter completely at ease with himself, overcoming a possible sense of guilt he might have had for deserting his brother, Ravana.

This valuable lesson of universal brotherhood was a favourite theme of Kamban that he stressed it at several places. He had this inspiration from one of the most famous Tamil poems in Sangam poetry, in which the poet sang,’ I belong to all the cities in the world and all are my kin.’

Kamban’s Rama did not feel humiliated or perturbed when Ravana disparagingly dismissed him as one belonging to the lowliest of the low, a human-being after all. He, in fact, had a sense of pride in being a man and his ultimate triumph over the asura who was blessed with the boons given to him by the mighty gods in heaven, was hailed by the poet, as the victory of Man over divinity. God, in his descent as a human-being in this very earth had more relevance and significance for the alvars, the Tamil bhakti poets(7thcentury CE to 9th century CE) than in his being an abstraction in the form of a deity in the distant heavens. In their view, man had immense potential in him, which, when properly tapped and exploited could help him attain godhood. Kamban showcased the blueprint of such a man in the form of Rama, who, like any one of us, met with lots of emotional problems and existential dilemmas before overcoming all of them to achieve success at the end.

Kamban’s characters, whether they were heroes or villains were not either totally white or totally .black. Rama had his own blemishes like his killing Vali, when the latter least expected it. Kamban’s Vali told his wife,Thara, before he accepted the challenge of his brother to fight with him, when she reminded him that Sugriva had Rama’s support, ‘ Do you think that such an exalted soul as Rama, who did not hesitate to give his kingdom to his brother would descend so low as to commit an heinous crime?’

But the irony was, he did kill Vali stealthily. He could not defend himself, when Vali, surprised and shocked, expressed his disappointment in no uncertain terms. Kamban very
subtly had drawn this picture of a guilty Rama with artistic maturity..

Kamban’s Ravana was not a hard-hearted, brutal villain merely given to lust and violence. He was a magnificent warrior whose tragedy was that he fell in love with Sita even before he met her. His sister Surpanaka described her beauty in such a picturesque manner, that he saw Sita’s illusion even while she was talking. He asked her whether the one he was seeing before his mind’s eye was Sita but she replied it was Rama, because when she was describing Sita, she had Rama in her mind with whom she had fallen in love!  It is one of the most beautiful romantic passages in Kamban’s Ramayana. Since this incident was going to seal the fate of Ravana, Kamban dramatized the whole scene in an exquisite manner.

For the sake of love, he was prepared to lose a kingdom. When his son Indrajit told him to give up Sita, as at that time the war was almost lost, Ravana replied,’ I have chosen my enemy not in the hope that you and your uncles and my mighty army are going to support me, but I have done it on my own mental strength, energized by a feeling of all-consuming love. So long as Rama’s name will remain that he fought to the end to get back his wife, my name will also be there that I did not yield unto the last.’ This reminds us of Milton’s Satan, who thundered, ‘What though the field be lost? All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and courage never to submit or yield.’

Kamban lost no opportunity in emphasizing over and again that Ravana’s love for Sita was not just physical infatuation but a pure, unadulterated tender feeling of the mind and even before keeping her a prisoner in Asokavana, he had kept her a prisoner in his heart! So when Rama’s arrow pierced Ravana’s chest at the end, Kamban said, it scouted for the feeling of love he had for Sita in his heart of hearts and took it away, making an exit through his back! Kamban beautifully captured the great fall of the mighty Ravana and contrasted it with his once glorious past, when he lifted the Kailash mountain, the abode of Shiva and what a fall was there and all for the sake of love!

Kamban lived during the period of Imperial cholas but, considering that he dedicated his epic, in a way, to an ordinary, simple philanthropist,  by mentioning his name ten times in the course of his narration, one may be tempted to conclude that he did not enjoy royal patronage as many other inferior poets of his period and apocryphal stories about the master poet  are not wanting, to strengthen this view.

FROM THE EDITOR

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Sruti, March 2018

Why do young musicians and dancers often seek to dazzle audiences with speed, arithmetic precision and dramatic moments rather than move them with deeply felt, sruti-aligned, bhava-rich raga music? In the first place, is such a blanket dismissal of a whole generation of artists true or fair?

This was the topic of discussion at a musician-friend’s residence recently. The consensus, was unfortunately that while there’s a vast treasure of talent all around, backed by an intelligence nourished by formal university education, superior technology and communication skills, the average musician or dancer sooner or later spurns the grand highway of deep exploration in favour of short term gains via fireworks on stage. Also the frequency of performance opportunities in India and abroad leaves the artist little time for reflection and reinvigoration. One speaker came up with the theory that many young vocalists choose to sing in srutis that prevent reaching down below the mandra sthayi shadja (for example in Syama Sastry’s swarajatis) and produce more air than sound. I don’t know if this is a valid criticism, but it is certainly an interesting perspective. Another friend suggested that young artists do not have good role models to emulate.

A couple of events of the recent past however struck a more hopeful note. One was the Tyagaraja akhandam at Tiruvaiyaru on 15 February. The devotion and selflessness with which young and old musicians participated was a real eye opener. Was it the invisible but powerful impact of Tyagaraja on the assembled musicians and listeners that led to nearly 300 of his compositions being sung individually, in pairs and in groups, in beautiful spirit and voice, not to mention the relatively gentle violin and percussion accompaniment? A small group of devout Tyagaraja worshippers organise this annual event without any major sponsorship. The much loved Ramanathan (the affection most of those present have for him was palpably demonstrated), Viswanathan, Gopal and their friends, and the vocal duo of C.R. Vaidyanathan and A.S. Murali, both sishyas of P.S. Narayanaswamy (a rare absentee this time due to illness), inspired younger musicians to sing their hearts out all through the night and into the morning after. It was great to hear Kunnakudi Balamuralikrishna in a strong voice after his reported recovery from vocal problems, and other youngsters like Sunil Gargyan equally impressive, suggesting that some of them have decided to return to the grand traditional path leaving some tempting bylanes in terms of showmanship.

Another recent function again gave hope that guru bhakti is alive in Bharatanatyam. At RememberingSeetarama Sarma, we realised how much he was adored by his disciples and their disciples as well. I remembered the 1970s and 1980s when the Kalakshetra orchestra helmed by the likes of Sarma and Pasupati, and joined by younger talent in the form of Balasaraswathi and Sai Shankar often forced the audience to turn its attention to the musicians, forgetting to watch the superb dance on offer.

V. RAMNARAYAN

Tanjore K. P. Sivanandam

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1.3.1917 - 30.7.2003

Kalyanasundaram Pillai

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1.3.1932

S. NAGARAJAN

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A versatile percussionist, S. Nagarajan has been accompanying senior Bharatanatyam artistes for the past two decades. He founded Kaladarshanam along  with his wife Kirushanthy where they train students in Bharatanatyam and Mridangam. An artiste who aspires to take percussion to the layman, Nagarajan believes that an artiste should be adaptable and true to his art.

All your family members are involved in the arts. Do tell us about them.
My father, Shnamugalingam, an Odhuvar murthy,  was active in singing Pann isai at the temple in Yazhpanam, Srilanka. He was also a tambura artiste though he was a goldsmith by profession. All his activities were connected to the temple. He specialized in making ornaments for deities.  My mother is a rasika and is still involved in singing bhajans. They have been a tremendous influence is my life. My father passed away some years back, within a week of being diagnosed with cancer. I think it was his devotion to Goddess Kamakshi that allowed him to leave this world without suffering.
All my siblings are involved in the arts. My brother, Gnanaguruparan is an artist (painting). Another brother, Davaguruparan is a table artiste. Umaguruparam is a vocalist. Kumaraguruparan is a a drama actor while my sister Sarumathy is a Veena artiste. I married a Bharatanatyam dancer and my children are learning Bharatanatayam under her guidance.

What was your early exposure to music like?
I was born in India but spent my early years in Srilanka. Jaffna was very active in promoting music through the university. My father was the tambura artiste for many senior visiting musicians. I started my training in mridangam my guru, Kalaimamani Durairaj, a disciple of A.S Ramanathan. Besides learning formally, I used to accompany my father in pann isai kucheris. My life revolved around school, the temple and kucheris.

Yazhpanam was unique in its nurturing of artistes. Can you tell us about your experience?
Yazhpanam was very rich culturally. I got a lot of exposure playing for senior artistes as musicians encouraged young artistes like myself. Looking back, my early years in Jaffna shaped my approach and understanding of music. It was such an open minded  cultural ambience. A good mridangist was expected to play for all genres of music, be it kucheris, bhajana sampradaya or Bharatanatyam. We learnt to adapt to different ways of playing depending on the kind of music being performed. If it was a Bharatanatyam kucheri, a percussionist was expected to know the adavu system, the nuances of bhava, the entry and exits of characters and the modulation involved in playing for nrtta and abhinaya. The same mridhangist was adept at playing for a full - fledged kucheri. I grew up in that kind of atmosphere, watching my own teacher play for different art forms.

How did you decide to pursue a career as a mrihangist?
I completed my degree at Hindustan engineering college. I was keen to further my training in mridangam and joined the Music Academy for a course under Umayalpuram K. Sivaraman sir. It was a six year course but I was fortunate to get admission into the fourth year. I completed my Diploma in Mridangam in 2002.

My entry into dance was through Hariharan and Prameela in 1994. As I said earlier, I was open to playing mridangam for all kinds of performances so it was a welcome opportunity. At that time, I was working for the Sriram group. I was leading a team and had a lot of responsibilities. Soon, I found it difficult to do justice to my music and a full time job. In 2003, with encouragement of all my peers, I quit my job and became a full time musician.


In what way can dancers and accompanying musicians work to ensure quality of performance?
As a mridangist, I find it easy to work with dancers when they are very clear about the compositions or choreography. This way we can support them to the best of our ability. It helps us if they send us the jathis before the rehearsals and clear any doubts regarding kanakku before other musicians arrive. This will ensure that time is not wasted unnecessarily during full rehearsals.

How should aspiring mridhangists for Bharatanatyam prepare themselves for a career in this field?
I think sincerity and humility are important traits to develop. Regardless of the standard of the teacher or performer, our job is to support the dancer and aim for a successful performance. There are many things for us to learn on this journey even if we have received the best training. Being open to working with fellow artistes and improving our knowledge will go a long way in enhancing the quality of performance. I find every performance contributes to my learning. The same composition is handled in a multitude of ways depending on the dancer’s bani and creativity. We have to be ready to adapt without having rigid ideas. To do this, a sound foundation in technique is important. With that we can create wonders.

I think the reverence we have for our instrument is something we should never forget. My first allegiance is to my mridangam. Till today, I only play after doing puja to my instrument. It is not something I can be careless about. Whether it is for Bharatanatayam, kucheri or for a bhajan, the moment I touch my instrument, it is with full dedication.

What are the challenges when playing for recordings?
Time constraint. Within our scheduled time, we have to finish our parts understanding what is required by the choreographer. I feel it will be more effective to have a rehearsal before the recording so that time spent in the studio is maximized.

Do you play any other instruments?
I have formally learntthe  Mridangam but along the way, picked up  Kanjira, Tabla, Tavil, Morsing and Dholak while playing for bhajans. This helped me when I started using the Rhythm Pad. It is important to know the basics of these instruments to create an authentic soundscape on the rhythm pad.

Tell us about your new venture – the Madras Drum Circle.
My friend Soundarajan and I were very keen to take percussion to the masses. We bought some Djembes(an African percussion instrument) and started conducting workshops for interested groups. Till date we have worked with IT professionals, children and teenagers at different events. We were recently invited to conduct a birthday party event where children enjoyed themselves thoroughly. In fact, the parents joined in too. The best part about these workshops is that there is no hierarchy. Everyone plays simple rhythm patterns together and the output is amazing. This has been useful as a team building activity in the corporate world as it promotes camaraderie amongst team leaders and their group members. We are very active on Facebook.
It takes a lot of time and energy as my friend and I handle the events personally. However, the reward of seeing the smiles and enthusiasm of the participants is worth every moment. It gives me great satisfaction to reach out to people.

Konerirajapuram Vaidyanatha Iyer

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2.3.1878 - 1921

Puttaraj Gavai

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Birthdays & Anniversaries

3.3.1914 - 17.9.2010
When Pandit Puttaraj Gavai, a Padma Bhushan recipient, and head of the Veereshwara Punyashrama at Gadag in Karnataka, attained samadhi on 17th September 2010, the whole state seemed to go into mourning. A blind musician with a spiritual stature that few saints command, Puttaraj Gavai, a teacher of music of the rarest kind, was the object of fervent respect and love from his many students. Gavai was also a writer and dramatist, who authored over 80 books, and a social worker, who touched the lives of many. He and his guru Swami Panchakshari Gavai are worshipped and revered as saints by many in Karnataka.

The story of Puttaraj Gavai is also the story of Swami Panchakshari Gavai, founder of the Veereshwara Punyashrama in Gadag, a small town and incidentally, the birthplace of Bhimsen Joshi. Panchakshari Gavai was well trained in both Carnatic and Hindustani music. By some twists and turns of fate, guided by a saintly disposition, he took upon himself the mission of imparting music education to young boys, many of them blind, from the villages in Karnataka. Most of these students came from families of grinding poverty. The guru not only gave the boys sangeeta-vidya but also two meals a day.

                                          To read full story, visit sruti.com and buy Sruti 317

Ghulam Mustafa Khan

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3.3.1931

Gangubai Hangal

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Birthdays & Anniversaries
5.3.1913 - 21.7.2009

Gangubai was born on 5 March 1913 into a musical family of Dharwad. Her parents were Chikkurao Nadgir and Ambabai. At birth the child was named Gandhari but years later her name was changed to Gangubai by a recording company, and it came to stay. Hangal is the name of her native place, a small town in Hubli. Her mother and grandmother were established practitioners of Carnatic music.

Gangubai had initial training in Carnatic music from her mother, a musician of extraordinary abilities. She was known to be adept at notating songs and well versed in Sanskrit as well. It is said that her private concerts were attended by stalwarts like Ustad Abdul Karim Khan, the founder of the Kirana gharana, Hirabai Barodekar, Sunderbai and Sawai Gandharva.

Gangubai was, however, interested in Hindustani music. The family therefore shifted to Hubli in 1928 to fulfil her wish. Thirteen when she learnt her first lessons from a certain Krishna Acharya, she continued her tutelage with Dattopant Desai. From these two teachers, she mastered about sixty compositions before becoming a disciple of the Hindustani vocal virtuoso, Sawai Gandharva. As he was on tour most of the time, Gangubai’s training was sporadic in the beginning. Only after a few years, when Sawai Gandharva settled down in Hubli, did her classes become regular. The training was rigorous, intense and thorough. He was a taskmaster and the training generally stretched to ten hours a day. (Her guru-bandhus were Bhimsen Joshi and Firoz Dastur.) The training lasted only three or four years as Sawai Gandharva passed away in 1942. However, by that time, Gangubai had assimilated the best of the Kirana style.

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The tavil in focus

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T.R. Govindarajan presenting the Parlandu Award to tavil-maker Paramasivam 
as Lalitharam of Parivadini looks on 

The Parlandu Awardfor Music Craftsmen instituted by Parivadini was presented to tavil-maker Paramasivam by renowned tavil vidwan Tanjavur T.R. Govindarajan, at a function held in December 2017 in Chennai. V. Ramnarayan, Editor-in-chief, Srutiand Lalitharam of Parivadini participated.

'Parlandu' alias Fernandes was the trusted mridangam-maker for Palghat Mani Iyer for years. The annual award in the name of this master craftsman is given to those engaged in the making as well as maintenance of musical instruments. The previous awardees are Selvam, son of Parlandu (for mridangam in 2013), Varadan (for mridangam in 2014), Raju (for veena in 2015) and Ramesh (for ghatam in 2016).

The awardee for 2017 was Paramasivam whose contribution lies in simplifying some of the processes in  tavil-making without compromising on the aesthetics of the traditional instrument with respect to either appearance or output of the nadam. The innovative improvisations (like replacing the tough bamboo rims of the tavil with steel)  have been made in consultation with veteran tavil vidwans like Govindarajan who said that modifications are inevitable. He recalled   bygone times wherein maintenance of instruments posed grave problems to artists as well as instrument makers. The metal rim is quite a revolutionary innovation, he said.

V. Ramnarayan, Editor-in-Chief, Sruti who spoke on the occasion, appreciated the initiatives of  Parivadini  in recognising the contribution of craftsmen in the field of performing arts. He paid rich tributes to traditional arts and artists and the need for projecting them in the mainstream.  In his acceptance speech, the awardee Paramasivam thanked Parivadini, the tavil vidwans, as well as other artists and institutions who endorsed his innovations and continue to encourage him  in his pursuits.

Lecdem by T.R. Govindarajan
This was followed by a lecdem titled The Majestic Tavil presented by tavil maestro T.R. Govindarajan who explained the basic techniques of tavil-playing with reference to the preliminary lessons and modes of accompanying the  nagaswaram. He said that customarily, lessons in tavil would normally begin with Pillaiyar sollu. He revealed that the instrument, that may not apparently give out a pitch, has an inherent quality to merge with the mainstream sruti. Probably this could be the reason why the tavil has been included as percussion support for sensitive stringed instruments of  Carnatic music like the mandolin and the chitraveena (T.R.  Govindarajan has successfully accompanied Chitraveena Ravikiran in recent times).

Any 'melam' performance would start with the tavil beats (which, of course is preceded by sruti) and there are dictums of playing during various segments like alapana, pallavi, the interludes between pallavi - anupallavi, and anupallavi - charanam,  apart from the ethics of accompanying the kriti. The tavil vidwan may not be able to take a break during a nagaswaram recital and his duty would be even more tiresome during temple processions extending hours on end. This also necessitates a comprehensive knowledge of techniques of playing besides mastery of laya as the tavil vidwan has to offer varieties and patterns to avoid repetition and participate competently in tanis with the co-artist.

Govindarajan also reminisced about his gurukulavasam which was "not easy as now".  He also reverentially remembered  some great tavil vidwans of the past like Needamangalam Meenakshisundaram Pillai and their absolute mastery over  the instrument, as well as celebrated nagaswara vidwans.

Govindarajan presented a short, brilliant  laya vinyasam, ably assisted by one of his disciples to demonstrate the basics of tavil playing.

T V Sankaranarayanan

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Birthdays & Anniversaries
7.3.1945

This is an enjoyable recording by T.V. Sankaranarayanan and includes some very good raga alapana-s and, of course, lively kalpana swara-s. The alapana in Darbar is firm and brings out fully the grandeur of the raga. That in Kalyani is also excellent with at least one very pleasing karvai. The ragamalika viruttam has two raga-s— Behag and Sindhubhairavi. The Behag alapana is very charming and, in parts, moving.

Sankaranarayanan sings the various kriti-s in a lively fashion and they come out well. The charanam in Yochana shows some breathlessness and perhaps the tempo could have been reduced. The niraval on the charanam of Vasudevayani (a somewhat overworked song) is interesting and shows the artist's grip on laya (apart from sruti which is one of Sankaranarayanan's great strengths). Nagumomu is on the usual lines. Incidentally, the inlay card does not show this number. Is it supposed to be a bonus? Sarasamukhi is a song which Madurai Mani Iyer too sang often. Sankaranarayanan's presentation is good. But the way he keeps splitting the word, "Chamundeeswari" in the pallavi is deplorable.

This is not a particularly good performance by Sankaranarayanan. Errors of grammar have crept in here and there: a shade of the nishada intrudes into Abhogi now and again, the phrase gama pa occurs repeatedly in the Bilahari alapana and ri ga ma is used in Brindavana Saranga. There is an excessive use of vowels in the alapana-s: the repetitive use of na-na-na in alapana-s also reduces listening pleasure. Sankaranarayanan's kalpana swara-s are, of course, outstanding.

The lyric of the song in Athana is unsuitable for setting to music: it is best left as poetry. For the Bhairavi song, the tala chosen is a misfit: Misra Chapu does not fit the lyric.

                                     To read full story, visit sruti.com and buy Sruti 104
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