Tiruvaiyaru has become a place of pilgrimage for Carnatic musicians as they converge to pay their musical homage to the great vaggeyakara at the Tyagaraja aradhana held every year on Bahula Panchami day. The festival, usually held on a grand scale, was also affected by the Covid 19 pandemic; it was restricted to a two-day event this year. As a result, the glamour and the razzmatazz which had crept into it over the years, was missing this time. Star Carnatic musician, Sudha Ragunathan, has been offering her musical tribute at the samadhi for several decades now  In this issue, she shares with us the very special experience that she had this year at Tiruvaiyaru.

Season 2020 has received wide coverage in this issue. Last month, an office bearer of the Madras Music Academy shared the experience of organising the Academy’s online season. There can be no season without artists, organizations and rasikas, but the success of Season 2020 hinged largely on the ‘tech team’ who worked round the clock to present an enjoyable experience. Kudos to them! This time, we present a peek into the effort behind the month-long Yours Truly Margazhi festival organised by the Federation of City Sabhas. The virtual season has by and large been welcomed by rasikas as it gave them the freedom to watch any number of kutcheris from the comfort of their homes, any time and any number of times! It has also been a boon for writers and critics, as they could listen to the concerts at leisure, and play them any number of times to get their facts right before submitting their reviews. At this juncture, Sruti’s Chennai correspondent C. Ramakrishnan deserves special mention as he has diligently listened to a range of artists presented by different organisations and shared his comments about them.

Apart from the regular News & Notes, we bring to you the occasional book review and a talent showcase of four young Hindustani musicians with great potential. Our Tiruvananthapuram correspondent pays tribute to Sruti’s roving critic Sunil Kothari who passed away recently. Sunilji, as we called him, was associated with Sruti almos  since its inception. He was fond of travelling and would file his reports from different parts of the world. “Visibility” was his watchword and he loved to be in the midst of artists and events. The Covid pandemic must have been a setback for the gregarious individual and he probably decided to bid goodbye to a world where personal interactions and live events had almost come to a standstill. 26 February 2021 was an important date in the Carnatic music calendar as it was the birth centenary of the\ renowned twins of Carnatic music – B.V. Raman and B.V. Lakshmanan, also known as the Bhavani duo. Sruti has published articles about them in 2005.

S. JANAKI

The month of Chaitra or Chittirai is a joyous one as it ushers in the new year in different parts of India – based on their regional calendars. The beginning of Chaitra is a time to celebrate Ugadi, Gudi Padwa, Cheti Chand and Navreh. Mid- April rings in the new with Baisakhi, Tamil Putthaandu, Bohag Bihu, Pohela Baisakh and Vishu. In the cultural calendar too there is cause to celebrate as sabhas have opened their small halls and big auditoria to host live programmes. After several months of trepidation and hibernation, rasikas are making bold to venture out to attend cultural programmes. There is now a new addition to their aharya – colourful, matching masks of course. Nobody shakes hands now, no bear hugs; the elegant, traditional Namaste is in vogue!

A major live programme was ABHAI’s Annual Day, organised successfully at the Sathguru Gnanananda Hall in Chennai, while strictly following the Covid protocol  Veteran dance exponent, guru and arts administrator Prof. A. Janardhanan, was conferred the Natya Kalanidhi on the occasion. Senior violin accompanist for dance M.S. Kannan, as well as Bharatanatyam exponents and teachers Parvathi Ravi Ghantasala and G. Narendra were also honoured with titles by the Association of Bharatanatyam Artistes of India. The award ceremony was followed by presentation of several items of the Bharatanatyam repertoire by ABHAI members. Prof. Janardhanan is April-born – take a look at the Sruti birthday calendar!

The Kalaimamani awards announced by the Tamil Nadu government were also presented at a well conducted event. Bharatanatyam artists Ambika Kameshwar and Parvathi Ravi Ghantasala received the Puratchi Thalaivi Dr. J. Jayalalithaa Special Kalaimamani Awards for 2019 and 2020. Veteran vocalists Vani Jayaram and S. Rajeswari are the recipients of the all-India award – the M.S. Subbulakshmi Award (Music) for 2019 and 2020 respectively. Senior Bharatanatyam exponents Alarmel Valli and Chandra Dhandayudhapani were conferred the all-India Balasaraswathi Award (Dance) for 2019.

A total of 59 personalities have received the Kalaimamani Award for 2019 and another 65 for 2020 this year, but the number of classical performing artists thus honoured is very less compared to those in the cine field. Hope this ratio will change for the better in the coming years. Sruti congratulates all the awardees.

The cover story in the April issue is a centenary tribute to the tavil maestro Valangaiman Shanmugasundaram Pillai – whose birth and death anniversaries both fall in April. We also have a dynamic younger percussionist – mridanga vidwan J. Vaidhyanathan sharing the space with the centenarian. Music runs in his blood – his famous aunt D.K. Pattammal, equally famous father D.K. Jayaraman and Vaidhyanathan are all recipients of the prestigious Central Sangeet Natak Akademi Award.

We are privileged to publish a centenary tribute to the Bhavani duo of B.V. Raman and B.V. Lakshmanan penned by eminent dancer-scholar Padma Subrahmanyam – she pays tribute to her music guru. There is an interesting analysis of nritya karanas by eminent natyacharya V.P. Dhananjayan. These should also kindle the interest of students of music and dance.

We are happy to include the Sruti Box section in this issue. The letter writing habit seems to be on the wane as youngsters are busy with Likes, emoticons and short comments on social media. The reading and writing habit has, however, improved during the lockdown period, and we hope it will take a turn for the better in future. So, Happy reading – get a copy of Sruti, either digital or in print! And don’t forget to send us your feedback letter for the Sruti Box!

S. JANAKI

By Samudri

The event began on an auspicious note with a prayer by ABHAI member Ananthashree which was followed by the lighting of the kuthuvilakku by the chief guests V.P. Dhananjayan and Lakshmi Viswanathan, along with the awardees and the president of ABHAI, Roja Kannan who then delivered the welcome address. The  activities undertaken during 2019-2020 were elaborated upon in the annual report presented by the secretary Binesh Mahadevan. In keeping with one of its objectives to recognize excellence in the field, the ABHAI awards were conferred by the chief guests of the evening -- natyacharya V.P. Dhananjayan, and veteran  Bharatanatyam exponent and writer Lakshmi Viswanathan, both founding members and former office bearers of ABHAI.

The prestigious  Natya Kalanidhi award was conferred on veteran Bharatanatyam and Kathakali exponent, guru, arts administrator and Kalakshetra alumnus Prof. A.  Janardhanan. Senior violinist M.S. Kannan received the Gandharva Nipuna title. Well known Bharatanatyam dancer, teacher, organiser and founder of Kala Pradarshini -- Parvathi Ravi Ghantasala was honoured with the Nritya Perunjothi title and senior male dancer, choreographer and teacher G. Narendra with the Narthaka Nipuna title. The citations were read out by ABHAI vice-presidents Janaki Srinivasan, and Priya Murle, with committee member Nithyakalyani Vaidyanathan playing the role of an efficient emcee.

The second part of the evening’s presentation comprised group presentations by ABHAI members of some items learnt during the Abhivridhishalas (workshops) organised by ABHAI. It was heartening that one troupe, led by guru  Jayashree Narayanan, had come all the way from Puducherry to participate.  All the dancers won the appreciation of the audience for their well coordinated effort. The announcements were ably handled by ABHAI committee members Shanmugha Sundaram, Mahalakshmi Ashwin and Nidheesh.

Overall, a satisfying event, well organised with strict adherence to Covid protocols.

Immersed in his rhythm                                                                                   Lakshmi Anand

Senior mridangist J. Vaidhyanathan believes his commitment to accompaniment begins right from arriving well on time for the concert. “A concert is like a yagna, a lot of effort—we should not cause any consternation to either the organiser or the artists—rather, we should ensure that we do whatever we can to keep them calm, thus ensuring the best output from the artists. Also, regardless of who the artist is or his/her seniority levels, everyone should be treated on an equal footing on stage,” says Vaidhyanathan.

The youngest of three children, Vaidhyanathan was born to Sangita Kalanidhi D.K. Jayaraman and his wife J. Jayalakshmi on 22 April 1965 in Damal, near Kanchipuram in Tamil Nadu. The family moved to Chennai a few years after his birth. His aunt Sangita Kalanidhi D.K. Pattammal, a colossus in Carnatic music, was already in Chennai. Music, thus, was the most  natural foray for Vaidhyanathan.

His elder brother Srivatsan did not pursue music but is a knowledgeable rasika. Sister C. Sukanya is a vocalist who accompanied her father regularly and performs and continues to teach. Wife Poorna, who has a doctorate in Music, is working as a violin lecturer since 2005 at S.V. College of Music and Dance run by TTD in Tirupati. Like Vaidhyanathan’s mother, Poorna too has been a quiet pillar of support in his musical career. “She is very meticulous, especially in organising my things when I have to travel. I do not have to worry about anything and can concentrate on my mridangam playing. We also discuss a lot about music. She is an excellent teacher who has trained beginners in music to rise to the level of gold medallists,” says JV as he is popularly known.

Vaidhi, Vijay Siva, Akhila Siva and Priya in concert

As Jayaraman taught his students, he noticed the toddler Vaidhi constantly tapping to perfect tala with his fingers. Noticing the child’s affinity for rhythm, Jayaraman decided to start him on mridangam. Little Vaidhi was initiated into ‘ta dhi tom nam’ by the stalwart Sangita Kalanidhi Palghat Mani Iyer. Given his prolific travel schedules, Mani Iyer suggested to Jayaraman that the child continue to learn from his senior disciple Palghat Kunjumani. Vaidhi also learned from Srinivasan (another disciple of Palghat Mani Iyer), Dindigul Ramamurthy and Tanjavur Ramadas. While learning from Ramamurthy and Ramadas, Vaidhyanathan won the junior scholarship from the Government of India. In 1985, when it was time to apply for the senior scholarship, he enrolled with mridangam stalwart Sangita Kalanidhi T.K. Murthy, who was an A-Top grade artist.

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Everything seems to have come full circle once again.  This time, last year so many of us were confused, cautiously trying to cope with the situation of lockdown, retrenchment, work-from-home,  living in  fear of the deadly virus, and rarely venturing out from home. Live cultural programmes, teaching-learning classes, had grinded to a halt throwing things out of gear for members of the arts fraternity; there was so much uncertainty all around. It was a totally new experience for all.

Things eased a bit and since the summer of 2020, the digital space started buzzing with online cultural activity as artists and social media commentators explored every avenue to give vent to their creativity.  The online music and dance season was a success and a morale booster for  many.  The scenario improved further in the new year 2021, and in January-February it was heartening to see sabhas opening their halls to live performances with Covid protocols in place.  The launch of the Covid vaccination drive ushered in hope that things would look up in the coming months. But the euphoria was shortlived.

Since March-April the second Corona wave has been more virulent.  The situation everywhere has turned grim with vaccines, life-saving  medicines and oxygen in short supply and Covid positive cases and deaths shooting up. As a consequence, curfew, lockdown and restrictions on gatherings and cultural activities have been clamped down once again. No respite, we are back to square one! Often we get news of deaths and bereavement in the artistic fraternity. Sruti extends it’s heartfelt condolences to the affected families.

It has become a time for introspection,   to draw on our inner reserves for strength  and sustenance.  A time to contemplate on a Higher Being for Hope; and what better subject than to dwell on Siva-Nataraja whose eternal, cosmic Dance is the embodiment of the activities of srishti, sthiti, samhara, tirodhana and anugraha. It is probably time for Siva-Neelakantha to once again come to the rescue of humanity and cleanse the poison pervading the environment. The cover story in the May issue of Sruti is devoted to Siva-Nataraja. We are indeed privileged to bring to our readers very insightful articles written by eminent personalities Padma Subrahmanyam and Sudha Seshayyan. And we hope to offer our readers some more in the coming issues.

In the News & Notes section too, we have reports on the natyanjalis held during  Sivaratri. We also have write-ups about Tyagaraja aradhana –  our way of  paying homage to the vaggeyakara whose jayanti is usually celebrated in May. The Iyer Brothers, renowned vainikas, have penned a sincere and moving tribute to their guru the late Pichumani Iyer whose centenary celebrations conclude in May. The birth anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore – famous for his Gitanjali, Rabindra Sangeet and Rabindra Nritya – is also celebrated in May. We bring to you a report on an interesting seminar (held in 2020) on Rabindra Nritya  which is now about 100 years old.

Our correspondent K.K. Gopalakrishnan has penned an obituary tribute to the veteran Kathakali doyen Chemmencherry Kunhiraman Nair who passed away recently at the ripe old age of 104. I got an opportunity to watch the centenarian— with an endearing smile and twinkling eyes—perform the navarasa at a felicitation function organised at BIFAC in Chennai a few years ago. He was amazing even at that age.

Even as we go to print we are shocked to hear about the sad demise of the famous Hindustani vocalist Rajan Mishra who succumbed to Covid. In this grim situation, we can do our bit by wearing masks, maintaining social distancing, sanitising and remaining safe at home as much as possible. Let’s listen to music, watch dance – online of course! And read a lot too!

S. JANAKI

 Lingering memories of our Guru Pichumani Iyer

Ramnath Iyer and Gopinath Iyer

For eight years, the routine was the same. We would traipse through the noisy streets of Mylapore to our guru Pichumani Iyer’s house, veena picks and oil box gripped in one hand and meticulously copied notation notebook in the other. 

And even now, thirty-six years later, the memories of each class linger in our minds—our guru’s kind yet firm words, his watchful eyes following the fingers dancing on the strings, the echoes of the veena pulsing through the room. 

Born in Nagapattinam on 18 May 1920, Pichumani Iyer hailed from a family of musicians. As a boy he learnt vocal music from “Jalar” Gopala Iyer of Tiruchi. He later took to the veena and learnt from Tiruchi Kupanna.  He was fifteen by this time and had already established his talents by winning the prestigious award of the National College, Tiruchi in a Carnatic vocal music contest. He studied up to S.S.L.C. in the National College School before joining the Annamalai University. At the University he received the Sangeeta Bhooshanam for veena in 1942 after completing the four-year course under the tutelage of Tiger Varadachariar, K.S.  Narayanaswamy and Gomathi Sankara Iyer.

Soon after graduation, he relocated to Madras to join AVM Studios in their music troupe. He was a key veena player in the orchestra for over 16 years and his veena music in many film songs was highly acclaimed during that time when classical music ruled the roost in cinema. His veena playing for the films Penn, SampoornaRamayanam, and the hit songs Maalai pozhuthin mayakkathile, Veenai kodiyudaya vendaney and Indru poi naalai va,speak volumes of his talent. In 1959 he quit his job at the AVM Studios and started his career as a full-time vainika, teaching and performing concerts.

He was conferred several titles and awards by organisations and institutions—including the TTK award from the Music Academy, Madras, the Kalaimamani award from the State Government of Tamil Nadu and the Central Sangeet Natak Akademi award. He performed all over India and undertook his maiden trip overseas to Australia in 1999 at our invitation. He published a number of audio recordings;  some of  his early gramophone records brought out between the 1950s  and the 1970s were popular and regularly broadcast by All India Radio. He was a top-grade artist of All India Radio and Doordarshan. Pichumani Iyer was a composer of merit too, with a few swarajatis, varnam and tillanas to his credit. One of his tillanas is in the raga of his own creation called Vasanta Kaisiki.

Pichumani Iyer trained a number of students, many of whom are notable veena players in their own right. To name a few performing disciples: Vasantha Krishnamurthy, P. Vasanthkumar, R.S. Jayalakshmi, B. Kannan, Revathi Krishna, R. Raman,  Thayapari Niranjan (Singapore), Sastry Vedham, Shriram (U.S.A.) and the two of us called Iyer Brothers (Australia).

It is always difficult to capture the power of music in words. This reflection, however, from a press review by the highly respected music critic the late N.M.  Narayanan (The Hindu, Friday, 14 June 1991), encapsulates Pichumani Iyer’s impact. “It is a problem of discovering a point where the practical and the idealistic meet. It is a point from which the classical music that flows is practical without being over-practical and profane, and idealistic without being lost in useless and unproductive idealism. The modern kutcheri pioneers showed the way of sustaining classical music with dignity on this middle path… R. Pichumani has fashioned a method for himself. It is a method by which veena music retains character and is made entertaining at the same time.”

Any rasika who has attended his kutcheris can attest to the high calibre of performance. His supple fingering, unique attention to detail, and rich rendering of traditional compositions made each concert moving in its own way. 

Tracing the career of Pichumani Iyer demands reflection not only on his success as a professional veena vidwan but also celebration of the personal impact he had on the lives of his many students as a guru. Even when our IT jobs eventually took us out of Chennai, our lessons with him were a highlight of our annual trips to India. “Vadhyar”, as we fondly referred to him, gave us so much. Each class would go on for at least two hours, three times a week. It was like a gurukulam! Beyond the classroom, Vadhyar and Mami (his wife) treated us like their own sons; bequeathing us with the duty of getting ‘Kumbakonam vettalai’ and ‘vaasanai seeval’ from their favourite shop in Mylapore’s East Mada street before each class.

Every class was more than just a lesson on the veena. Without a tape recorder in the early learning years, Vadhyar would make us repeat the sangatis incessantly to ensure the music was etched in our memory. He also inculcated in us the discipline of notating songs promptly at the conclusion of each class. In this way, we absorbed a sense of discipline, responsibility and attention to detail that we try to apply in our lives.

Iyer Brothers with their guru at a practice session

We remember Vadhyar for his gentility and soft-spoken nature. Many of his musical peers were his close friends. The noted composer Tanjavur Sankara Iyer and veteran vocalist Calcutta K.S. Krishnamurthy were his classmates from Annamalai University. Tanjavur Sankara Iyer would visit him often and engage in musical discussions. We have watched and eagerly enjoyed some of these interactions during our class, relishing the lively back and forth between vidwans. Veena
S. Balachander and Chitti Babu were also close friends of our guru.

Vadhyar used to remark about the conversations with Veena Balachander, who would occasionally visit his house late in the night and take him to the Marina beach where they would relentlessly chat for hours! Balachander was very keen to understand how Vadhyar had such a fine “meetu” (plucking) technique without the plucking noise. Other musicians such as Seergazhi Govindarajan, Vellore Ramabhadran, Umayalpuram Sivaraman, Lalgudi Jayaraman, N. Ramani were also his good friends. Vadhyar teamed up with Seergazhi Govindarajan to conduct the Tyagaraja Aradhana at Tiruvaiyaru for a few years.

On the completion of the centenary of his birth, we celebrate our guru, Pichumani Iyer for his multitudinous achievements in Carnatic music. We can still recall his vibrant, gamaka-oriented playing and respectful adherence to the vocal style. Melodious rich tone, soft plucking and sensitive playing were the unique hallmarks of Pichumani Iyer’s style. Beyond this, we also remember his generous spirit, his humility despite countless accolades, and his genuine passion as a teacher.

We are blessed to have been his sishyas, and will be forever grateful for the lessons he taught us not only in music, but in life.

(The authors are well known vainikas and music teachers based in Melbourne, Australia)

http://iyerbrothersveena.com/

 TALENT SHOWCASE

Masters of tomorrow

Shailaja Khanna

In every generation, there come one or two superlative musicians who dominate the musical landscape during their time. In north Indian classical music, in the generations preceding ours – in the field of sarod, it was Amjad Ali Khan in the 1980s and 90s, indeed till today; before him it was Ali Akbar Khan from the 50s to the 70s. In vocal music, till the 1940s it was Fayyaz Khan, followed a decade later by Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and Kesar Bai, then Amir Khan and Kumar Gandharva, followed by Bhimsen Joshi, and lately, Kishori Amonkar and Jasraj.

In the world of tabla, the golden trinity -- Samta Prasad, Alla Rakha and Kishan Maharaj gave way to Zakir Hussain. Amongst sitariyas, Vilayat Khan and  Ravi Shankar  were followed by Shahid Parvez and Shujaat Khan; this cycle continues.

Today, with the advent of social media platforms for the dissemination of classical music, to discern who is going to rule the concert platforms in the next few years is harder to ascertain. There are also many more practitioners whose art is available to music lovers. Despite this, one can perhaps predict some from the younger generation of musicians, who will emphatically come into their own in the following decade.

Manjusha Patil (born 1971), is already amongst the top ten Hindustani  vocalists today. Acknowledged as a talent to look out for, she was awarded the Central Sangeet Natak Akademi Yuva Puraskar in 2012, and the coveted  Kumar Gandharva award in 2016, among other accolades. A self-made singer, who has had three gurus, Manjusha has a well-honed,  highly-practised voice that soars with ease in three octaves; an ever expanding repertoire, an ability to move between vocal forms with seamless ease -- her abhangs are as polished as her vilambit khayal or emotive thumri.                         

Manjusha’s journey started in her pre-teens. Born in the rich musical town of Sangli, Maharashtra, her talent was quickly spotted even as a child, and she was sent to the best singer in Sangli, Chintubua Mhaiskar. She started performing at a very young age, and was noticed on stage by her next guru, D.V. Kanebua, who lived in the nearby town of Icchalkaranji. She would spend the weekends with her guru, and would practise what she was taught during the week, after school. This continued for twelve long years.

Kanebua was an unusually erudite singer -- initially trained in the Gwalior gharana gayaki, he had also learnt in the Agra style from Vilayat Hussain Khan. His prowess in natya sangeet was well-known. He laid a solid music foundation for Manjusha, from which she could soar, taking guidance from other seniors like Shubhada Paradkar, Vikas Kashalkar and finally his star brother,  Ulhas Kashalkar from whom Manjusha continues to learn. Her innate interest in thumri led her also to pursue the craft from Narendra Kanekar. She is equally popular for her abhangs, which she honed under Kanebua who had learnt from none other than the great Bal Gandharva himself. 

Manjusha realises that this decade is an important one; she shared that in 2015, after she had the honour to be accompanied on the tabla by Zakir Hussain. It was a golden moment for her, and intensified her focus.               

Satyajit Talwalkar is hailed as one of the finest tabla players of his generation. Born in 1978, he has been playing solo and accompanying concerts for the last 25 years. Son and disciple of  Suresh Talwalkar and acclaimed vocalist Padma Talwalkar, Satyajit started his musical training as a toddler and impressively played his first solo concert at the age of nine.

Today, creditably he has accompanied several musicians of an earlier generation including Amjad Ali Khan, Hariprasad Chaurasia, Shiv Kumar Sharma and Jasraj. He was awarded the Central Sangeet Natak Akademi Yuva Puraskar in 2011 as a recognition of his undoubtable mastery on the tabla. Today Satyajit is a much sought after accompanist. His musical approach in accompaniment is no doubt a result of his training under his vocalist mother, but father  Suresh Talwalkar too has always included vocal music very prominently in his solo acts, making it a part of the presentation. In fact, having the voice accompany the tabla is an innovation derived from his acknowledgement that laya is incomplete without swara. His solos are thrilling, innovative and executed with a crisp mastery that is breathtaking, and one expects to hear much more of Satyajit in the coming years.

Like other percussionists of his generation, Satyajit too has dabbled in experimental music with percussionists from other genres, and jazz musicians.   

Sitariya Shakir Khan (born 1982) is an eighth generation practitioner of the sitar; in his family, in his generation he is the only concert playing “sitariya”. He is the son of sitar maestro Shahid Parvez, great grandson of the surbahar playing Wahid Khan and great great grandson of  Imdad Khan, the founder of the gharana. Regarded as the premier sitar playing gharana of India, the Imdadkhani gharana, has, in the last 100 years produced the finest sitariyas in each generation, from Imdad Khan, Inayat Khan, Vilayat Khan and Shakir’s own father,  Shahid Parvez Khan. Shakir played his first concert at the age of eleven. As yet his undeniable talent is relatively unacknowledged, with very few awards to his credit, but his popularity and credibility as a performer are there for all to see. His recitals are polished, redolent with expertly executed movements. Holding a masters degree in music, Shakir is following in his father’s footsteps in keeping his family’s tradition alive, and teaches in the gurukul system at their ashram called Swara Setu in Pune, which has around 100 students. 

What stands out in Shakir is his openness as a musician; most younger musicians hesitate to communicate with other older artists on stage.  Laudably, Shakir has played jugalbandis with north Indian vocalists and instrumentalists, including Mewati gharana vocalist  Sanjeev Abhyankar.

Abhishek Lahiri (born 1983) is fast emerging as a sarodiya to watch out for. With a training combining the three major schools of sarod playing, Abhishek perhaps has an edge over his contemporaries. His father  Alok Lahiri has received musical training from the Senia Maihar gharana (with  Shyam Ganguly, disciple of Baba Allaudin Khan), Senia Gwalior gharana (from Amjad Ali Khan) and Senia Shahjahanpur gharana (from   Budhadev Ganguly). Each school has its specialisation and it is to Abhishek’s credit that he has seamlessly integrated the different approaches assimilated by his father, while of course remaining primarily a Maihar gharana sarodiya. His integrity to raga is matched by a correctly taught unfolding of the raga, combining lyricism with the sarod baaj. 

Abhishek has played in venues across the world, including at the European Parliament at Strasbourg. His albums have been nominated twice by GIMA (Global Indian Music awards) and he is already an A-grade artist with All India Radio. Described as the ‘wonder child of sarod’ in 2008, Abhishek is fast living up to expectations. He share: “I have tried to develop my own style of playing, not trying to copy anyone blindly. I feel that maintaining the integrity of the ragas is very important, and cannot be compromised. As I am an instrumentalist, I must show the special techniques of the sarod, the sarod baaj. It is not enough to only play with lyrics, where the specialities of my instrument are not exhibited. My performance should be 60 percent physical riyaaz and 40 percent thinking and introspective riyaaz. If I attempt to play exactly like a maestro of the 1960s or 1970s, I will not be able to attract a younger audience who can  listen to the greats on record.”

The coming decades promise to be interesting musically for north Indian classical music, with such talented musicians maturing into the masters of tomorrow.

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Priya Subramanian

The symbolism of rivers has been used abundantly in poetry, music and story-telling. Rivers depict the entire circle of life and are revered as nature’s wonders. In the Indian context, they are worshipped and humanised to tell moving stories of civilizations. However, through the generations,  excessive use of these water bodies has led to their erosion and contamination. Today, we are faced with the colossal task of restoring them and sustaining them for future generations. This is the quintessential and compelling message of the recently released music video, Rivers of India.

Premiered on Earth Day, 22 April 2021, Rivers of India wasconceptualised and composed by Kanniks Kannikeswaran, famous Indian-American music composer, in collaboration with The Center for Clean Water (ICCW), an initiative of IIT Madras, of which he is a distinguished alumnus (2019 awardee). The 6.5 minute-long video is a breathtaking salutation to India’s rivers, with a prayer to preserve them. Not only is the video a feast for the eyes, but also pools in leading Indian classical musicians Bombay Jayashri and Kaushiki Chakraborty and their sons, who are emerging artists.

To those familiar with his work, Kanniks is a firm believer in the sovereignty of ragas to bring people and causes together. His efforts in building global choirs and musical communities have brought him a floodof accolades. As a member of one his regional choirs in the US and also a miniscule part of the choral arrangement in the Rivers of Indiavideo, I feel privileged to share the story behind this musical video, which includes the names of 51 rivers from all over India.

In February 2020, a little before the global pandemic hit, Kanniks visited The Woodlands, TX (the choir chapter I am part of) and College Station, TX. It was while working with a group of 30 amateur singers in College Station, singing his composition Gange from his flagship production, Shanti, that the idea of creating something simple, featuring the names of rivers such as Ganga and Yamuna struck him.“I immediately found myself singing the first line of the composition, finding joy just in the names of the rivers. The manner in which they fit into a seven-beat Misra chapu tala and the addition of the prefix Sri to the river Saraswati, was something that naturally fell in place”, recalls Kanniks. He completed this inspiring piece of work on his way back to his home in Cincinnati.

When Kanniks resumed online lessons with us, we were indeed delighted to be amongst the first of all his choral groups to learn the Rivers of India composition from him on Zoom soon after lockdowns were imposed. During one of our sessions, he expressed his vision to see this song performed by prominent singers in India, along the lines of the iconic Mile sur mera tumhara. Little did we know then that some of our voices would trickle into this meaningful presentation a year later alongside celebrity musicians.

Moving along with his drift of thoughts, Kanniks reached out to his 1984 batchmate E. Nandakumar (CEO – International Center for Clean Water IIT Madras), with whom he discussed the idea of a music video. This was in continuation of a conversation they had in January 2020 during the  35^th reunion of IIT Madras, where Kanniks had proposed creating a large-scale stage performance on campus, with the goal of promoting awareness about water resources. Given the changed circumstances around Covid-19, Nandakumar and Professor T. Pradeep, Director of ICCW, readily agreed to support an online production with the same theme.

The lockdowns of 2020 eroded a good part of the year, however Kanniks was determined to tide over them and make the video a reality. He reached out to Sai Shravanam, music producer/ace audio engineer in Chennai, with whom he had worked together on other projects. The two plunged into the project and came up with a deluge of ideas, from reaching out to artists, to recording and producing the music. It was an epiphany on Sai’s front that led the team to pursue the mother-son duos of Bombay Jayashri and Amruth Ramnath (Chennai), and Kaushiki Chakraborty and Rishith Desikan (Kolkata). Supporting singers Mayur Davay and Savitha Sai were added, much like the many tributaries featured in the video. The song was arranged and produced by Sai Shravanam with several layers of percussion and special effects.

Kanniks says he was excited at the prospect of working with leading artists as well as uniting the Carnatic and Hindustani streams together in one video. According to him, both Jayashri and Kaushiki perceived and internalised the central emotion of the song in its entirety - the flow and swathe of the rivers.

To be featured in the same video as such stalwarts was a thrilling prospect for all of us. Although spread out in different parts of the world, the 50 of us became uniformly immersedin the tune. We each sang the lone choral line, dressed in shades of blue, and shared our individual audio and video tracks with Kanniks, who programmed them into the video. Concluding recordings and edits were done by Bharat Vikram (a successful producer of several musical videos), and a trailer was released 22 March of this year. The final video was released formally on 22 April in a virtual ceremony hosted by IIT Madras.

If one were to dive deep into the composition, it can be best described as a “song that just flows”, as Kanniks states. Written in the beautiful raga Yamuna Kalyani, the piece is complete with a pallavi, anupallavi and a chorus, with the curves in the melody representing the flow of the rivers. The seven-beat cycle stands for the sapta-sindhavah (seven bodies of water revered in the Rig Veda). Yamuna Kalyani vibes with the name Yamuna that appears in the very first line. The tribute also indirectly salutes Muthuswami Dikshitar whose kriti,Jambupate in the same raga, reveres Siva’s manifestation in the form of ‘water’. The anupallavi is rich in swaraksharas; the lines rhyme with each other with alliterative alankaras such as antyakshara prasam. The Sanskrit equivalent names of rivers such as Sutlej easily glide with the tune, as do names such as Vaigai and Hooghly!

This music is not just about adulating the rivers of India. After the introductory celebration, the song makes a distinct transition into the raga Keeravani, with intense alaapsand percussive layers. At this juncture, the camera moves away from the singers and vistas of pristine waterscapes to scenes of human-induced pollution and the resultant devastation of water resources. Kanniks reiterates that he did not want the song to end in this gloom and therefore introduced a momentary pause, after which a surge of hope gushes in, with the well-known Tamil phrase from the Silappadikaram - nadanthai vazhi,juxtaposed with the Sanskrit phrase Jale asmin sannidim kuru. (You walked this land; may you be blessed; O rivers, please emerge in the water in front of me).  There is an immediate change in key and a dramatic emergence of the virtual global chorus of singers, splashes across the screen. The song comes to a climactic conclusion with images of the Center for Clean Water, the work done by them and an invitation to be part of the Clean Water initiative.

The video is nearing one lakh views within a month, and makes a statement that, the online audio-visual medium of expression is here to stay. The end result is as captivating as it is influential, in spurting out an indomitable message to preserve these invaluable resources. Lastly, intergenerational projects have a large impact. “These rivers are ours and this story needs to be told”, Kanniks pours his heart out passionately, “This is an attempt to call the rivers out by name. Knowing of their existence is a first step in creating awareness about water resources”, he expresses.

The entire project brings back for him, the memories of The Blue Jewel, a production from 1996 which he collaborated with the University of Cincinnati. “I am blown away by the relevance of the shocker images used then;  masked humans are now walking the globe – while at that time, we projected the reality of our disregard for the environment resulting in patients being treated with masks in hospitals”, he observes.  “Surely, what the world is going through is largely a result of our own callousness towards our precious resources”, he adds. The Blue Jeweltouched only a few thousand people in Cincinnati, but in today’s digital world, Rivers of India is garnering a fast-growing viewership. Kanniks is soaked with gratitude for social media and complements online platforms for providing much-needed respite and sanity to music lovers in today’s turbulent times.

Talking to Kanniks is always an invigorating experience. Just like the lush waterfalls portrayed in the Rivers of Indiavideo, his mind is always overflowing with creative ideas and message-oriented themes waiting to be produced. He is particularly overjoyed to have been able to include the names of all hostels on the IIT Madras campus in this song (they are named after Indian rivers), transporting him back to his student days there. While for us, the members of his global choir, this mesmerising production has been instrumental in delivering a spate of important lessons - from water conservation, to adapting to online presentations, and finally, the names of Indian rivers.

The June issue of Sruti is a bouquet of profiles big and small, of personalities who have left their imprints on the artistic canvas. On the occasion of the late violin maestro M.S. Goplakrishnan’s birthday on 10 June, an old friend and rasika recalls the man and his extraordinary music in our Readers Write section.

The cover story focuses on the famous duo in Hindustani music—Rajan and Sajan Misra, who have been among the most popular singers in the past two decades. Representatives of the Banaras gharana and champions of khayal gayaki, they have earned a name for themselves for their  mature music embellished by bhava,  special thought  applied to lyrics and enunciation, their vast repertoire, as also for their religious music. I heard them often on the radio and television in the 1970s – 80s, but got an opportunity to listen to them live in 1980-81 at the RIMPA festival organised by sitar maestro Ravi Shankar in Varanasi. The brothers seemed to have an uncanny understanding of each other’s thought process and the way the cascading  alternate rounds of taans came in quick succession—Rajan’s sargam taan followed by Sajan’s akaar taan—was especially amazing. As a part-time music student of the Banaras Hindu University,
I even managed to get an autograph from Rajan Misra. Its now become a cherished memory with his succumbing to Covid in Delhi on 25 April 2021.  Writer Shailaja Khanna and eminent musicians have paid tribute to this versatile duo in this issue
of Sruti.

In continuation of our special feature on Lord Siva-Nataraja, veteran Bharatanatyam exponent and guru  Sudharani Raghupathy shares with us  her ‘vision of Nataraja’ gained over a lifetime dedicated to the arts. Scholar Sudha Seshayyan’s article on the ‘Sapta tandava’ provides rare insights into minute details.

We are delighted to bring to you small profiles of artists who have helped to popularise Indian culture abroad. Chatur Lal was a progressive tabla player who toured with sitar maestro Ravi Shankar in the mid 1950s and 60s and was among the first to participate in talavadya ensembles and successful percussion fusion experiments. Myrta Barvie was a ballet dancer who studied in Kalakshetra and returned to her homeland to become a pioneer in performing and propagating  Indian classical dances in South America. Famous natyacharya V.P. Dhananjayan has paid an endearing tribute to a collaborator Jacques D’ Amboise – a ballet dancer and master choreographer who, through his mammoth collaborations, taught and shared the joy of dancing with children belonging to underprivileged communities across the world.

The list of those snatched by the cruel hands of Fate grows longer by the day. Veteran sitar maestro and academician Debu Chaudhuri (85) and his son Prateek Chaudhuri (49) succumbed to the deadly Covid  within a week of each other. The demise of octogenarian writer Laxminarayan Garg, Editor of the long-running Hindi monthly Sangeet, on 30 April is a loss to arts journalism in Hindi. The passing away of the much respected veteran composer and musician Tanjavur Sankara Iyer has left a void in Carnatic music. The field of Bharatanatyam has lost a fine exponent, teacher and choreographer in the death of  B. Bhanumathi in Bengaluru on 24 May. She was a disciple of greats like natyacharya K.N. Dandayudhapani Pillai, Kadur Venkatalakshamma and Kalanidhi Narayanan. Sruti
fondly recalls her participation as a representative of the ‘Dandayudhapani school’  in the National Seminar on Bharatanatyam Traditions held in Chennai in December 1989.

To end on a positive note, the pandemic has seen several musicians and dancers rising  to the occasion and coming forward in traditional and innovative ways to contribute towards the welfare of artists and society. May the spirit of
caring and giving grow.

S. JANAKI

“There is a time and place for everything, you just have to wait for the right moment. Once it comes it will be the most beautiful and perfect thing possible!” said Gloria Tesch. For several years we have been wanting to put together a feature on Madurai Somu. Every time we tried, there would be a   roadblock on the way! We launched our efforts in right earnest again during the vidwan’s centenary year in 2019, but what with the Covid scare and lockdown restrictions, it has  taken us a little more time to pay homage to the heavy-weight singer and composer, who cast a spell on the masses with his  emotion laced music.  Our diligent correspondent C. Ramakrishnan has come forward to put together an interesting account of the musician and his music for Sruti readers.

The National Centre for Performing Arts (NCPA) is an iconic cultural symbol in the financial capital of India. By spearheading well conceived and executed projects and programmes with a futuristic vision,  its leadership  has brought name and fame to the institution on the national and international level. Mumbai-based senior freelance writer Bhanu Kumar has written a comprehensive article about NCPA, but it is sad that she passed away before she could submit an update on NCPA’s digital activities during the pandemic. We offer this feature as a tribute to her memory.

Carnatic musician and teacher, Padma Narayanaswamy turned 80 this April, and we are happy to publish a small feature on her by a disciple. We wish her good health to carry on the good work. Another article with the personal touch is a recall by natyacharya V.P. Dhananjayan, telling us how he came to compose the Ganesa sabdam.

Have you ever wondered about the science of Siva’s dance? Well, we bring to you a profound article penned by none other than Sudha Seshayyan who effortlessly bridges arts and science. It’s got lot’s for the mind and grey matter to ponder!

The Covid 19 pandemic continues to claim lives, and the arts field is no exception. This summer, during the second wave, not a day passed without messages informing us about the death of some performing artist, organiser, writer or patron succumbing to the  cruel illness. It was shocking to hear that veteran sitar  maestro Debu Chaudhuri and his son Prateek had both fought a losing battle with Covid in Delhi. So too the news about vainika P. Vasanth Kumar in Chennai. Sruti pays tribute to them and offers condolences to the family members. Vasanth Kumar was a good friend and ardent fan of Sruti magazine, right from its inception. His mother, Sulochana Pattabhiraman was associated with the magazine in various capacities. Vasanth, discerning and very knowledgeable, would be among the first to read the magazine and quick to point out any errors. He could not tolerate mannerisms and casual behaviour on stage on the part of artists and organisers. He used to write reviews for the Record Rack section from time to time. We will miss his insightful comments.

In the News & Notes section, there is an interesting variety of music and dance events. The first year of the pandemic saw artists indiscriminately posting their activities online in search of visibility in the absence of live programmes. Having come to terms with the situation, many renowned artists are now curating and presenting interesting and aesthetically produced programmes online. It is indeed a welcome change!

Equally welcome is the selection of versatile Bharatanatyam dancer and teacher Tirunangai Narthaki Nataraj to be a part of the State Development and Policy Council (SDPC) constituted by the Tamil Nadu state government. We congratulate  Narthaki
and  hope she will be able to make a difference in the field of health and welfare of artists wherein she is presently involved.

S. JANAKI

By Tejeswini Chakraborty

2020 was the year the world turned upside down. The busiest roads were deserted, vibrant faces were masked and the joy of sharing became limited to sharing online. It made the world digital and suddenly meeting your loved ones face to face became a crime. All this had a huge impact on the community of artists. Even though we were quick enough to notice the empty movie theatres, isolated stages and the lack of concerts, few people like dancer Christopher Gurusamy and art administrator Shreya Nagarajan Singh could see beyond the obvious. They saw the pain and helplessness of the underprivileged folk artists of India. The pandemic hit them like a hurricane which caused them to lose their means of income. They lost their gigs, the events got cancelled and so did the temple festivals. Even now, it is a very grim time for them as most of them are daily wage workers. This duo came up with an idea which would not only provide folk artists with moral support but also help them financially. They organised an online fundraising auction called '6 Yards of Hope'. 

For this auction, 18 well-known and sought after musicians and dancers were approached with the idea to auction one of their sarees; they agreed readily and were more than happy to extend their support. The artists were requested to donate a Kanjivaram saree which would represent their aesthetic.  Artists who donated their sarees include Rama Vaidyanathan, Leela Samson, Priyadarsini Govind, Geetha Chandran, Malavika Sarrukai, Chitra Visweswaran and Bragha Bessel .

Christopher Gurusamy and Shreya Nagarajan Singh collaborated with Panjavarnam Silks and the auction was held on their Instagram page @panjavarnamsilks and the bidding was done in the comments section. Shreya says that Christopher Gurusamy's involvement and support for this initiative was extremely crucial. His keen eye for details, love for the saree and dance, strategic mindset and a deep desire to raise funds for disadvantaged artists truly inspired them to work hard on every aspect.

The plan was a success when it became clear that all the beautiful sarees were very much in demand,  and the highest bid of Rs. 25,500 was for a saree owned by Bombay Jayashri. The buyers were from all over the world -- Australia, countries in Europe, America, and of course India. A total amount of Rs. 2,54,000 lakhs was raised. Part of it would be given to the Funds for Folk initiative which is the brainchild of Shreya Nagarajan Singh, Tenma and Gana Muthu, where funds are raised for the folk artists of Tamil Nadu, Kerala and Karnataka. Such initiatives in times of difficulty are a proof of unity; and for folk artists, '6 Yards of Hope' is not only a great initiative but a form of blessing in disguise.

 By Shrinkhla Sahai

Astad Deboo is a maverick dancer. His 67th birthday falls on 13 July 2014. Over the years he has dodged neat categories and continues to explore new frontiers with his individualistic style. Minimalism, restraint and innovation have emerged as signature features of his choreography. Having worked extensively with different groups of performers, he was in Delhi recently with Rhythm Divine a performance with Thang-ta performers from Manipur. In this freewheeling conversation he reflects on his journey through the various rhythms of life and performance.

 What was the inspiration for Rhythm Divine? How did the concept originate and how did you go about creating it?

I have been working with performers in Manipur for the past ten years. We started working with their living traditions and techniques and introducing layers of playfulness and interaction. I would respond to their rhythm, they would follow my movement, and so on. We keep changing the choreography, developing new works and revisiting earlier ones.

Astad Deboo
in conversation with
Shrinkhla Sahai

Are the volatile political conditions of Manipur expressed in the bodies and movements of the dancers? Was there any engagement with that during the creation of the piece?

Maybe not directly in terms of theme and content, but it is part of their experience. We worked a lot with rhythm – there are different levels of hostility, suspiciousness in their silences, their cries. They usually perform in a completely different context, mostly as ritual, in temple environs, but not on stage. So the work takes on a different meaning when it is taken into a new context.

What made you break away from your initial training in Kathak and Kathakali, to explore something different?

I wanted to find my own expression, to explore and express my individuality. I think it is very important for dancers today as well to gain greater exposure and  pursue higher education in dance.

How has your style evolved over the years?

While I was in London, I discovered that my body is an ‘Indian body’. For instance, in Indian dance the body is mostly grounded — there are bends; it is never straight. The rasas are very important, the face and eyes are integral aspects. There are many such qualities and of course these are ingrained in my body. It comes through in my style. I assimilated into my body a variety of techniques and experiences which have influenced my dance. Over time I have realised that minimalism is beautiful. It is much more difficult. As you grow older, you discover something different, sometimes even in the same movement. At the same time your own approach becomes more and more internalised. Time has been a major influence.

Astad Deboo with the Thang-ta performers

What was your experience of working with Pina Bausch?

Pina Bausch mentored me. It was very intense. It was a wonderful experience to be in the company of so many different styles and to observe how she worked with them. While creating a work she would ask us questions, give us situations, we would think and express ourselves in different ways.

What was the search that drove you to explore a new dance vocabulary for yourself and to start Choreographing?

I wanted to create and show my own work. When I returned to India, I found there was no openness, hardly any receptivity. So I started working on my own. My earlier work was very fast-paced, sometimes very dark. A lot of it expressed the frustration I was facing in terms of finding adequate support and platforms for my work. In the earlier days there was also the pressure to prove myself, sometimes to justify the funding. I think it is also important to cultivate and educate audiences so that performers can have spaces for exploration and trying out new things. There weren’t many opportunities at the time I was starting out with my choreographies.

A scene from Rhythm Divine

What are the major challenges you face as a dancerchoreographer today?

Funding and support! Even today I have to create my own platforms and generate resources.

The kind of style you have developed over time is unique. In terms of pedagogy, how do you plan to pass it on to the next generation of dancers?

I don’t take classes. I work with groups of people and mentor them. In their work you may notice phrases and techniques they have picked up from me and integrated with their expression. But basically, mine is a very individualistic style which will probably die with me. And that’s all right. I don’t think there is any need to be possessive. If you want to branch out, it is important to share, it is nice to let people go.

What are your reflections on the ‘contemporary’ in the context of dance in India?

The word ‘contemporary’ is so blasphemously used. There is lack of process, hardly any institutions for this. Often the training provided arms the body but real meaningful work takes time to evolve. I notice there are performers trained in classical dance who are doing interesting work. What is required is more exposure and education.

What are your upcoming projects?

For the next few years I want to focus on my ongoing work of mentoring hearing impaired performers. I would also like to continue working in Manipur with a group of eight to 14 performers and create more works with them.

By Nandini Ramani

"Kamalalayil pirandaarkum Mukti” -- those born in Tiruvarur attain salvation”-- describes the greatness of the unique holy town of Tiruvarur, which is also known as Sripuram, Bhoopuram, Kamalalayam, Valmikapuram, Muchukundapuram and so on, glorifying its many-splendoured facets. 

The birth of the Carnatic music trinity in this auspicious place adds further dimensions to its greatness, with its presiding deity Sri Ajapaa Natana Tyagesa moorti and Devi Kamalamba, it’s pervading gnana  sakti. 

The initial establishment of a memorial for Muthuswami Dikshitar at his birth place in Tiruvarur happened in  1955, which involved the well-known local landlord, Bhikshandar Kovil G. Rajagopala Pillai and Tiruvarurite  Dr. V. Raghavan,  under the auspices of the Sangita Mummoortigal Sabha on  the instruction of the Paramacharya of the Kanchi Mutt, who visited the birthplace of Dikshitar and conducted pujas there for a period. 

As per available print sources, in  1976, V. Raghavan, T. Sadasivam and local landlord V.S. Tyagaraja Mudaliar, worked on  building a new mandapam at the same venue. As they were mobilising funds for this project, a munificent donation of 1,40,000 rupees came from a native of Tanjavur, Pillaali Govindasamy Pillai, who travelled to Singapore as a youth and became a leading textile businessman there. That generous offer helped to complete the mandapam which was inaugurated  on 3 March 1977, in the presence of Govindasamy Pillai who was then 90 years old.

It is a nostalgic experience for me to recall as I was present at the morning inauguration and sang two gems of compositions of  Dikshitar, that too in the presence of M.S. Subbulakshmi, who offered a scintillating musical homage that evening. 

After more than four decades, on the instruction of Sri Vijayendra Saraswati Swamigal of Kanchi Kamakoti Mutt, the renovation of  the mandapam  has been undertaken and the work has been assigned to a managing committee, under the chairmanship of Sri Karyam of the mutt and other eminent members of the city.   

This noble project to commemorate one of the Carnatic music trinity has been budgeted at rupees one crore and fifty lakhs. Lovers of Carnatic music, musicians and rasikas of Dikshitar kritis, are welcome to contribute generously towards this memorial for the versatile “vainika gayaka"  Muthuswami Dikshitar, and pay their homage to the musical genius on the banks of the Cauvery.

(More details can be obtained from R. Kalidas, Treasurer, Phone: 8754579280)

For artists the freedom of thought and expression is paramount—the freedom to explore and experiment, to be spontaneous, to innovate within the boundaries of a tradition, can be challenging! In an attempt to get  various perspectives on  freedom, Sruti turns its spotlight this time on  “What freedom means to artists”. We bring to you thought provoking and interesting insights of renowned classical artists  who have shared their views about equality, the play of balance and freedom in life, the importance of freedom of choice and expression, how one strives to attain artistic freedom through introspection, and more.

Our cover stories this time focus on three artists. Ebrahim Alkazi was a visionary who was not afraid to explore uncharted territory in theatre and in the process, blazed a trail in modern Indian theatre. On the occasion of his first death anniversary, we are privileged to present a rare recollection of the pioneer by one of his old students Prof. Kamlakar Sontakke. He has enough material to write a book on his mentor, though we could but publish an interesting capsule of it.

B. Bhanumati, who passed away recently, was a Bharatanatyam exponent and teacher who thought out-of-the-box to dive deep into the vast ocean of the arts and emerge with glowing pearls of group choreographic works which made her and her troupe famous.

Carnatic vocalist and teacher, Shertallay Ranganatha Sharma, is a traditionalist who hails from a musical family in Kerala, and has equipped himself well musically to establish himself and gain recognition in the Carnatic music circuit.

In this issue, we also pay tribute to veteran Parassala Ponnammal who was also a  traditionalist in her music and demeanour, but a pioneer with many firsts to her credit.

As 22 August is Madras Day,  we bring to you this month, an interesting write-up on the songs of  Vallalar Ramalinga Swamigal on Chennai, by Sriram V.

As Srutigoes to print, we are saddened to hear about the passing away of D.R. Santhanam (91) in Pune. He was a connoisseur of music, a pillar of support to his wife—veteran Carnatic musician and scholar R. Vedavalli, and a father-figure to her students. He was a member of the executive committee of the Madras Music Academy for several years and a good friend of Sruti from its inception. “Santhanam Mama” had a remarkable memory  and was a fund  of information about  people and events of the past. He would also often draw our attention to young talented musicians and writers. Our heartfelt condolences to Sruti’s Senior Associate vidushi Vedavalli and her family.

And harking back to independence, we must remember that one’s freedom must not impinge on the freedom of another – that would be ‘footloose freedom’! On the occasion of the launch of Azadi ka Amrit Mahotsav by the Government of India to celebrate 75 years of India’s Independence, it is fitting that we re-dedicate our pledge to serve our state, our country and humanity with renewed vigour. Jai Hind!

S. JANAKI

Manam Artwork - Bhavya Kumar

Vibha Krishnakumar

A story of racism and casteism, a story of sorrow and hope, a story of freedom and peace. Manam is an album curated by musician Asha Ramesh and her son Rohith Jayaraman, keeping in mind a variety of societal cancers. A performing musician in the Bay Area and having sung for dance as well, Asha Ramesh is a much sought out teacher for vocal music. Her son, Rohith Jayaraman, a vocalist and composer, is a frequent collaborator with musicians from different cultures and countries. With haunting melodies and an inspirational story behind their album, Manam makes an impact on every listener. I personally was intrigued to hear ragas such as Sama being associated with casteism, and was very curious on the journey to create and release this album.

In an interview with Sruti, the multi-faceted mother-son duo based out of San Jose, California, talk about their inspiration, their creative process and their collaboration with artists from all around the globe for Manam during this pandemic. 

What or who inspired you to curate your album, Manam?

Rohith: The seed for Manam was planted when George Floyd was murdered, and the whole world watched. Amma was shaken by this. She was unable to focus and teach for days afterward. For personal expression and processing more than anything else, she sat down and wrote a few lines of poetry in Tamil. She called me, to talk about what she’d written. One of the lines struck a chord with me: Pirakkum podhu niram, jaadhi, madham thervu seiyvadhaar? (When we are born, who decides our color, caste, or religion?).

When my work shifted to a completely virtual setup because of the pandemic, I came to my parents’ house, where Amma and I spent almost every evening writing and composing. There was never a plan to create an album or even release any of this music. It was a personal project. It was Amma’s and my desire to have more contemporary, original, and secular Carnatic music in the repertoire. A few months later, when there were four complete songs inspired by these social issues, we realised that we had an album on our hands. It was a full year to finish - Amma wrote the first words on 3 June, 2020, and the album released exactly a year later on 4 June 4 2021.

Has the fact that the two of you are a mother - son duo altered the process of this collaboration?

Asha: For me it was quite new and I learned a lot. Rohith and I had only sung together as teacher and student, or as individual singers. We had never collaborated as partners. It was very important that we both saw each other as individuals and musicians, rather than as teacher and student. Otherwise, it may have been more difficult to express thoughts and opinions, give feedback, and work harmoniously. 

Rohith: This album has been a bit of a home coming for me, both literally and figuratively. Getting to work with Amma in a collaborative way has been incredible. It felt like a big point of validation for me. Luckily, our family has never been a  traditional parent-child or teacher-student power dynamic. That allowed us to approach this album with a truly collaborative spirit. 

• How did you go about converting your script to music? And why were a few tuned, while one remained in prose?

 Rohith: The writing process itself was very interesting. Amma wrote the tillana and Saloni on her own, but for the others, we had much more back and forth. For example, with Vidudhalai, after she had written the opening lines, I wrote the rest of it in English first. Then, we sat together every night for several weeks and re-wrote each line in Tamil.

Asha: Rohith and I had thought of splitting our piece Vidudhalai into two interludes, but my husband Ramesh suggested that we keep it as one message. We kept the lyrical content minimal and focused on improvisation because this song, in some ways, is about thoughts developing. 

Rohith: With Vidudhalai it was most important for us to complete the lyrics first. The song wasn’t written with any melody, raga, or tala in mind. In fact, after we finished writing, we had a big struggle choosing the tala. We tried Adi (both chatusram and tisram), Roopakam, and even Khanda Chapu before we settled on Misra Chapu. Right off the bat, it felt like it needed to be a ragamalika because each verse elicited such different feelings.Both Amma and I connected to the lyrics and music differently. So it felt right to have two different versions: one where Amma rendered it in a purely Carnatic context with a violin and mridangam; and one where I called upon a frequent collaborator Aleif Hamdan, to arrange the piece in a more contemporary style which reflects the kind of music I make.

Asha: I had already written the tillana when we began work on Manam. When Rohith came back home we finished the composition and took it as a chance to play around a little bit with the rhythmic structure andkanakku.  I finished Saloni in a single afternoon and when I read it to Rohith, I told him it didn’t feel right to set to a melody and that it should be recited.

Rohith: I suggested that we try to find five different women from different stages of life to recite the different couplets of Saloni. We asked Kolkata-born producer, sound designer, and vocalist Vasundhara Gupta to produce this piece. It gave us an opportunity to explore new avenues - we had never explored the spoken word space before. It was a big learning experience for us.

How did you associate the chosen ragas Sama, Nata with societal imperfections? 

Asha: This is an interesting question! For Vetri Nadai, Kalyani felt the most open, expressive, and relatable. With the improvisation in the song, we hoped people would connect with it more easily. Kalyani is very simple, but also has a lot of depth, and it felt most apt for this song.

Rohith: For Vidudhalai, we chose the ragas very carefully. Kapi managed to reflect shades of both light and dark, while also capturing that curiosity we wanted for the opening verse. It allows one to feel moments of hope and sadness at once.

Asha: I suggested Sama immediately when we were composing because of the word shyaam, which means dark or dusky. The wordplay with the name of the raga worked nicely with the theme of the verse: niram (skin color).

Rohith: Keeravani was the last option we settled on for the jaadi (caste) verse. We tried so many different ragas, and even got through almost half of the verse in Kharaharapriya. When we sang the first couple lines to my father, he said he wasn’t hearing the same intensity in the melody that he felt in the lyrics. After lots of trial and error, we discovered the melody of the first line in Keeravani and it just clicked.

Asha: Pantuvarali is dark, but very spirited. And we wanted to have a raga that felt very Carnatic, but could draw a little inspiration from Hindustani music as well, borrowing some phrases from Puriya Dhanashree. Panthuvaralli was the first prati madhyama ragam we used in the album, and this allowed the song to have a sort of a climax.

Rohith: It was also a bit of a reflection of the core of the verse. Pantuvarali has this beautiful, dynamic, full-spirited shape, but also an underlying darkness. Religion has often been distorted in the same way - it’s meant to inspire morality, love, compassion, and yet there are those who twist its message to serve their own violent and malicious personal intent. Desh was the clear choice to end the piece because not only did it  bring feelings of patriotism, freedom and nostalgia but it was also more hopeful and uplifting.

Asha: With the tillana, choosing Nata was less about the social concept and more about the music itself. It’s a raga that is always relegated to the beginning of every concert or musical production. It is almost never used in the middle or end of a traditional concert. I have always wanted to compose a tillana in this raga, and the response has been great.

How was collaborating with artists from different countries? Were there any difficulties in doing so?

Rohith: The process of putting this album together was full of joy and frustration. Musicians in a room playing together and feeding off one another is how the recording process is usually done. But, because of the pandemic, almost everyone had to record individually in their rooms. It’s difficult to capture the unified and coordinated energy when each musician is isolated, with no context from their fellow players. Nothing will be the same as playing live in a room together, but we’re truly proud of what we’ve been able to do over Zoom and on WhatsApp calls.

Despite the struggle of recording virtually, one  thing came out of this pandemic production - we were not at the mercy of geography. I wouldn’t have been able to have artists like Layth Sidiq (who is based out of Spain) on the album if it was being recorded live. The same goes for the incredible Carnatic artists who graciously agreed to play on this album: Praveen Sparsh, Apoorva Krishna, N. Guruprasad Anna, Mylai Karthikeyan and many more. So, in some ways, this has been the opportunity of a lifetime to work with some of our favorite musicians. It was a mammoth undertaking and I’m so glad we were able to pull it off.

There has been overwhelming support from eminent artists regarding your newest album. How does that feel?

Asha: Seeing and hearing the response has been very overwhelming. Family, friends, strangers, and stalwarts have responded so positively. I was especially happy to hear from Anita Ratnam Akka, who was so enthusiastic about the themes and the music. She felt so inspired and told me that she wants to choreograph based on the music, and even recorded a beautiful message for us about her thoughts on the album.

Rohith: For me, the biggest honor is that I got the chance to share this music with artists who I look up to. Getting feedback from an artist like T.M. Krishna was really special. Krishna Anna listened to the album with so much care and attention, and connected with both the music and the lyrics. And we’ve gotten such encouraging and thoughtful feedback from artists like Shankar Mahadevan, John McLaughlin, Chandana Bala Kalyan, Shubha Mudgal, and Viveick Rajagopalan, to name a few. We always try to stay true to the music and not to seek external validation, but after the music is finished and when artists we admire respond positively, it really feels good and feels like we did something right.

Are there any future plans for collaboration between the two of you?

Asha: This has been such a wonderful experience for both of us. We don’t have any plans as of yet for a new project. In fact, there are still many things left for Manam! In the next few months, we will be releasing more videos for songs from Manam.

Rohith: Working with Amma has been such a blast! Nothing concrete is in the pipeline for now, but I think we will always continue to write together.There is definitely much more art to be made and I think it’s safe to say that we will make many more things together.

It was some years ago that I received a call asking me to be a part of a special concert. I was being asked to play with the legendary ‘SPB’, and I was further told that he wanted these segments to be just with me and no other accompanist on stage.  I grew up in an era where SPB was perhaps the only singer on every song I loved (with maestro Ilayaraaja being the composer of nearly all of them).  For the years that followed, I became a part of his ‘posse’, a dedicated fan group of the person that he was, in addition to the superlative vocalist and performer that he was.  And I will say that to know SPB is to become a part of this privileged group that knows of his extraordinary kindness, sense of humour and ability to inspire joy wherever he went. To be a good musician is to be a keen listener to life, he was to remark on many an occasion. And I saw him living it. He was generous to a fault, and an avid participant in the business of life – negotiating tumult and greatness with grace and agility.

In being asked to write about his musical legacy, it is difficult to know where to begin. I find analysis very tough when it comes to singers as prolific as he was (he has recorded nearly 43,000 songs across languages and genres!) as adjectives do not do justice, language often struggling to encompass what can only be transmitted musically. A turn of phrase, a tremor especially affected for a phrase,  a bass quiver – and you know that your life is changed forever due to that particular rendition, the gravity and depth he confers that particular moment in a narrative. In India, we tend to turn any retrospective into a hagiography, and I know I am already in that zone.

SPB was transcendental in a way few singers were, but knowing him was also loving his approach to music. He saw it as a part of a whole, as his ‘karma’ towards a greater ‘seva’ to humanity, retreating behind his composers and his music directors rather than enjoy the shine.  I feel that it is this quality that endeared him to most of us. We would be discussing Nanda en nila and he would sit like a schoolboy, his face in a reverential trance as he transformed into a young Balu singing for the late, legendary Dakshinamoorthy Sir. He would discuss Kamban emandhan and get palpably excited when discussing MSV and that odd note (the end of the second line is on a different gandharam). He was least aware of the effect he was having on all of us around him, listening in rapt attention as also his vocal acrobatics in providing, on the spot, three or four different sangatis on the same line, as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

So in deciding to write this, I thought I would use five songs of his (I am thrilled to say that I have played these songs with him on stage and on television), as it helps me with the framework for analysis.  Each of these songs also varies by genre, stories they fit into and different stages of his musical trajectory. Each of these selections also reflects a different use for the voice, and I believe there is much to be gleaned from observing them carefully.

For instance, in Teertha Karaiyinile (1980, Varumayin Niram Sivappu, MS Viswanathan) It is the gentle and melancholic ballad that is given prime importance. Bharatiyar’s immortal poetry is used to reflect a protagonist pining for a love that is now irredeemably lost, a song of nostalgic pain and hurt. MSV chooses to characterise this with just the voice and a gentle guitar backing, leaving the former to do most of the heavy lifting. And it does with SPB’s muted and controlled emotion, laying emphasis on the words, their enunciation and that tremendous irony in the lyric. In fact, when the song reaches its end the line Nanoruvan mattilum pirivenbadhor naraga tuzhaluvadho(“When it is only me suffering this separation, it is like being tossed into hell”), the ‘holding back’ that he has done in the previous lines suddenly suffuses into a free-flow of emotional release, and he lingers, mid-phrase – to let the listener empathise with the narrative. It breaks the heart, and makes Bharatiyar’s own tribulations well up and coax the tears out of each of us.  

In Enakku oru kadhali (1976, Muthaana Muthallavo) we see the serenade, beautifully essayed on screen by Vijayakumar and ‘Thengai’ Srinivasan. With a piano and a violin to keep them company, MSV and SPB (a rare combination for singing) take us through a sweet paean to romance. SPB masters this form once again, and the use of his voice to sculpt the beautiful end-phrase of the pallavi is among the masterpieces in film music literature. The violin mimics the voice, and the voice the violin in a pas-de-deux between these two melodic strains, and SPB offers up sangatis that are as evocative as they are wondrous.

I had asked SPB about that turn of phrase and how he decided to craft it that particular way, to which he retreated, in his characteristic style, to the superlative vision of MSV. He went on to remark that MSV made him practice that phrase multiple times, and was quite strict about it. We shall now never know what actually transpired, but we have this delightful melody to savour.

In rendering the classical, such as in Manasa sancharare, Sankarabharanamu or Dorakkuna, I have often been told by purists that this would not pass muster in a classical concert. The heaviness of SPB’s bass notes, and the relative lightness in the uccha sthayis are not desirable, I would be told. But we must remember that these were rendered for film. Indeed, in Naa jeevadhara in Thyagayya (1981, Telugu, KV Mahadevan), the architectonics of the first and second sangatis of the pallavi line are so redolent of the Lalgudi style of rendition. When I referred to this in conversation, he replied that the Lalgudi rendition was his gold standard to practice this, and he ended the comment by his usual self-effacing apology when it comes to the classical. “Unlike you all, I am not classically trained”, he would often remark.  I often wonder if humility is the true hallmark of greatness, because if so, SPB was a great testament to that notion. Purists’ opinion aside, SPB displayed tremendous reverence for the classical, often referring to the late M. Balamuralikrishna and often his ‘Anna’, K J Yesudas as his exemplars and teachers.  

The narrative is important, as is the narrator, he once said: The story is paramount, and all craftspeople in service of that story, he would add. He would become the ‘voice’ of the protagonist, and his rendition the storyline. It was a different era to grow up in music, and he took his cues from the innumerable music directors he worked for across the country. These were times when as a highly sought after performer, he would record four to five songs in a day! To think that he would still take the time to sit down and listen to the story, to the implicit directions of his composers, and become the character is tough to believe in a digital era where singer-celebrities often eclipse the context they represent.

And yet the SPB I knew was not a man who placed undue emphasis on ‘voice management’ or ‘silences before concerts’.  He would be joking in the greenroom, regaling us with some story or the other, and be a perfect marvel minutes later when curtains opened. And he would be able to hold the stage for hours afterwards, getting better with the passing hours!  He loved his food, his indulgences and his life, it would always seem.

But it is perhaps in the lyrical nocturne that SPB becomes an indelible part of our lives. In Nilave Vaa and Kanmaniye kadhal enbadhu and countless others, SPB carries the romance in his phrasing, imbuing phrases with so much tenderness that the listener picturises themselves in the narrative.

The relegation to the self towards serving others, reverence to one’s teachers and colleagues, taking it ‘easy’ and taking things in one’s stride, to be an avid listener and above all, to be compassionate – my list can go on. These are lessons for all of us.

These are the songs of our lives, and these are the melodies of our own youth and romances. In his passing, I do not believe that we have lost a great singer. I believe we have lost the soundtracks to our lives.

Manam Artwork - Bhavya Kumar

Vibha Krishnakumar

A story of racism and casteism, a story of sorrow and hope, a story of freedom and peace. Manam is an album curated by musician Asha Ramesh and her son Rohith Jayaraman, keeping in mind a variety of societal cancers. A performing musician in the Bay Area and having sung for dance as well, Asha Ramesh is a much sought out teacher for vocal music. Her son, Rohith Jayaraman, a vocalist and composer, is a frequent collaborator with musicians from different cultures and countries. With haunting melodies and an inspirational story behind their album, Manam makes an impact on every listener. I personally was intrigued to hear ragas such as Sama being associated with casteism, and was very curious on the journey to create and release this album.

In an interview with Sruti, the multi-faceted mother-son duo based out of San Jose, California, talk about their inspiration, their creative process and their collaboration with artists from all around the globe for Manam during this pandemic. 

What or who inspired you to curate your album, Manam?

Rohith: The seed for Manam was planted when George Floyd was murdered, and the whole world watched. Amma was shaken by this. She was unable to focus and teach for days afterward. For personal expression and processing more than anything else, she sat down and wrote a few lines of poetry in Tamil. She called me, to talk about what she’d written. One of the lines struck a chord with me: Pirakkum podhu niram, jaadhi, madham thervu seiyvadhaar? (When we are born, who decides our color, caste, or religion?).

When my work shifted to a completely virtual setup because of the pandemic, I came to my parents’ house, where Amma and I spent almost every evening writing and composing. There was never a plan to create an album or even release any of this music. It was a personal project. It was Amma’s and my desire to have more contemporary, original, and secular Carnatic music in the repertoire. A few months later, when there were four complete songs inspired by these social issues, we realised that we had an album on our hands. It was a full year to finish - Amma wrote the first words on 3 June, 2020, and the album released exactly a year later on 4 June 4 2021.

Has the fact that the two of you are a mother - son duo altered the process of this collaboration?

Asha: For me it was quite new and I learned a lot. Rohith and I had only sung together as teacher and student, or as individual singers. We had never collaborated as partners. It was very important that we both saw each other as individuals and musicians, rather than as teacher and student. Otherwise, it may have been more difficult to express thoughts and opinions, give feedback, and work harmoniously. 

Rohith: This album has been a bit of a home coming for me, both literally and figuratively. Getting to work with Amma in a collaborative way has been incredible. It felt like a big point of validation for me. Luckily, our family has never been a  traditional parent-child or teacher-student power dynamic. That allowed us to approach this album with a truly collaborative spirit. 

• How did you go about converting your script to music? And why were a few tuned, while one remained in prose?

 Rohith: The writing process itself was very interesting. Amma wrote the tillana and Saloni on her own, but for the others, we had much more back and forth. For example, with Vidudhalai, after she had written the opening lines, I wrote the rest of it in English first. Then, we sat together every night for several weeks and re-wrote each line in Tamil.

Asha: Rohith and I had thought of splitting our piece Vidudhalai into two interludes, but my husband Ramesh suggested that we keep it as one message. We kept the lyrical content minimal and focused on improvisation because this song, in some ways, is about thoughts developing. 

Rohith: With Vidudhalai it was most important for us to complete the lyrics first. The song wasn’t written with any melody, raga, or tala in mind. In fact, after we finished writing, we had a big struggle choosing the tala. We tried Adi (both chatusram and tisram), Roopakam, and even Khanda Chapu before we settled on Misra Chapu. Right off the bat, it felt like it needed to be a ragamalika because each verse elicited such different feelings.Both Amma and I connected to the lyrics and music differently. So it felt right to have two different versions: one where Amma rendered it in a purely Carnatic context with a violin and mridangam; and one where I called upon a frequent collaborator Aleif Hamdan, to arrange the piece in a more contemporary style which reflects the kind of music I make.

Asha: I had already written the tillana when we began work on Manam. When Rohith came back home we finished the composition and took it as a chance to play around a little bit with the rhythmic structure andkanakku.  I finished Saloni in a single afternoon and when I read it to Rohith, I told him it didn’t feel right to set to a melody and that it should be recited.

Rohith: I suggested that we try to find five different women from different stages of life to recite the different couplets of Saloni. We asked Kolkata-born producer, sound designer, and vocalist Vasundhara Gupta to produce this piece. It gave us an opportunity to explore new avenues - we had never explored the spoken word space before. It was a big learning experience for us.

How did you associate the chosen ragas Sama, Nata with societal imperfections? 

Asha: This is an interesting question! For Vetri Nadai, Kalyani felt the most open, expressive, and relatable. With the improvisation in the song, we hoped people would connect with it more easily. Kalyani is very simple, but also has a lot of depth, and it felt most apt for this song.

Rohith: For Vidudhalai, we chose the ragas very carefully. Kapi managed to reflect shades of both light and dark, while also capturing that curiosity we wanted for the opening verse. It allows one to feel moments of hope and sadness at once.

Asha: I suggested Sama immediately when we were composing because of the word shyaam, which means dark or dusky. The wordplay with the name of the raga worked nicely with the theme of the verse: niram (skin color).

Rohith: Keeravani was the last option we settled on for the jaadi (caste) verse. We tried so many different ragas, and even got through almost half of the verse in Kharaharapriya. When we sang the first couple lines to my father, he said he wasn’t hearing the same intensity in the melody that he felt in the lyrics. After lots of trial and error, we discovered the melody of the first line in Keeravani and it just clicked.

Asha: Pantuvarali is dark, but very spirited. And we wanted to have a raga that felt very Carnatic, but could draw a little inspiration from Hindustani music as well, borrowing some phrases from Puriya Dhanashree. Panthuvaralli was the first prati madhyama ragam we used in the album, and this allowed the song to have a sort of a climax.

Rohith: It was also a bit of a reflection of the core of the verse. Pantuvarali has this beautiful, dynamic, full-spirited shape, but also an underlying darkness. Religion has often been distorted in the same way - it’s meant to inspire morality, love, compassion, and yet there are those who twist its message to serve their own violent and malicious personal intent. Desh was the clear choice to end the piece because not only did it  bring feelings of patriotism, freedom and nostalgia but it was also more hopeful and uplifting.

Asha: With the tillana, choosing Nata was less about the social concept and more about the music itself. It’s a raga that is always relegated to the beginning of every concert or musical production. It is almost never used in the middle or end of a traditional concert. I have always wanted to compose a tillana in this raga, and the response has been great.

How was collaborating with artists from different countries? Were there any difficulties in doing so?

Rohith: The process of putting this album together was full of joy and frustration. Musicians in a room playing together and feeding off one another is how the recording process is usually done. But, because of the pandemic, almost everyone had to record individually in their rooms. It’s difficult to capture the unified and coordinated energy when each musician is isolated, with no context from their fellow players. Nothing will be the same as playing live in a room together, but we’re truly proud of what we’ve been able to do over Zoom and on WhatsApp calls.

Despite the struggle of recording virtually, one  thing came out of this pandemic production - we were not at the mercy of geography. I wouldn’t have been able to have artists like Layth Sidiq (who is based out of Spain) on the album if it was being recorded live. The same goes for the incredible Carnatic artists who graciously agreed to play on this album: Praveen Sparsh, Apoorva Krishna, N. Guruprasad Anna, Mylai Karthikeyan and many more. So, in some ways, this has been the opportunity of a lifetime to work with some of our favorite musicians. It was a mammoth undertaking and I’m so glad we were able to pull it off.

There has been overwhelming support from eminent artists regarding your newest album. How does that feel?

Asha: Seeing and hearing the response has been very overwhelming. Family, friends, strangers, and stalwarts have responded so positively. I was especially happy to hear from Anita Ratnam Akka, who was so enthusiastic about the themes and the music. She felt so inspired and told me that she wants to choreograph based on the music, and even recorded a beautiful message for us about her thoughts on the album.

Rohith: For me, the biggest honor is that I got the chance to share this music with artists who I look up to. Getting feedback from an artist like T.M. Krishna was really special. Krishna Anna listened to the album with so much care and attention, and connected with both the music and the lyrics. And we’ve gotten such encouraging and thoughtful feedback from artists like Shankar Mahadevan, John McLaughlin, Chandana Bala Kalyan, Shubha Mudgal, and Viveick Rajagopalan, to name a few. We always try to stay true to the music and not to seek external validation, but after the music is finished and when artists we admire respond positively, it really feels good and feels like we did something right.

Are there any future plans for collaboration between the two of you?

Asha: This has been such a wonderful experience for both of us. We don’t have any plans as of yet for a new project. In fact, there are still many things left for Manam! In the next few months, we will be releasing more videos for songs from Manam.

Rohith: Working with Amma has been such a blast! Nothing concrete is in the pipeline for now, but I think we will always continue to write together.There is definitely much more art to be made and I think it’s safe to say that we will make many more things together.

Chitra Visweswaran

(Veteran Bharatanatyam exponent and guru)

Numerous thoughts flow through my mind as I mull over the concept of freedom. There are so many shades to it, that countless questions are thrown up. Moreover, the word freedom has several synonyms and antonyms with each one having immediate relevance to a particular situation and to a large extent, a particular stage in one’s life.

The first question that springs to my mind is, ‘Freedom for what and freedom from what?’ And is it as in physical, emotional, intellectual, artistic, creative, political freedom, or is it the freedom of expression or of choice, or the seven freedoms in the Constitution of India, that we so heartily abuse, or is it about being unshackled, un-bound and being absolved of all responsibility? Or is it about liberty, swatantira urimai, aazaadi, moksha or mukti? But whatever it maybe, even as there is a flip side to every coin, all freedoms come with appendages and trappings.

Freedom is like a prism with multi reflective surfaces. It all depends upon which angle/plane one views it from. As one grows up, matures and evolves, one’s perspective of freedom, at every juncture, also changes. I too, like everyone else, desired distinct kinds of freedom at varied stages in my life. But I have come to realise that throughout, it was freedom of expression that was the all important, underlying, unifying factor, at every point of time in my life.

I was brought up to be well-disciplined, deeply immersed in‘Bharatiya samskriti’, to study various art forms and languages in depth, to read widely and deeply, encouraged to question, search, re-search and discover beyond our shores, an inspiring fund of knowledge. While being deeply anchored in this rich foundation, which was further strengthened by a value system, I was, in addition, constantly motivated to think out-of-the-box. At home, it was almost a dictum, "If there are five ways of doing something, find the sixth!” So, pushing the envelope became second nature to me. And to do that you need to be free of fear, free of weak will power and free of the desire to please everyone. Harking back today, I realise that I was never forced into any of this. At every instance, I was given freedom of choice for which I am deeply appreciative. But it is not as though I did not ever come up against dissent or criticism, but when I did, at every stage in my life, because of my upbringing, I had the conviction to stand up for my values and convince others to my way of thinking. My parents often used to say, “You should have taken up law, you put forth your case so convincingly!” ...a sentiment later echoed by my husband too!!!

To me, freedom of choice is the birthright of every human being. The choice could be deliberately thought out or could be impulsive and inspired.  But given that right, or for that matter any other freedom, it is not for us to either abuse it or encroach upon the freedom of others. Respect other’s choices as much as you would cherish your own.

We all are social animals. We live in a society. We have certain social and familial responsibilities. And when the time comes for me to shoulder them, I do not believe in sacrificing these responsibilities at the altar of my desire for freedom. Such decisions could, at times have restricted my freedom, but every one of those decisions was propelled by the freedom of choice.

It is an indisputable fact that over the centuries, in Tamil country, the nattuvanars were the custodians of the art of Sadir-Bharatanatyam, and the devadasis its practitioners. Together they kept the practice of the art alive which flourished under the patronage of the rulers and the wealthy. The nattuvanars were well versed in music and dance, they were intelligent, progressive and smart enough to adapt themselves to changing times to keep the art alive. One such nattuvanar who gained name and fame in the 20^th century—as a natyacharya, musician, choreographer, composer and vaggeyakara—was K.N. Dandayudhapani Pillai whose centenary is being celebrated through 2021 to 2022 by his disciples. In the cover story in this issue, Sruti pays tribute to this multifaceted artist who was ahead of his times. Besides the excellent art that he propagated, his major contribution is the corpus of compositions for Bharatanatyam which he has bequeathed to suit the changing times. By the 1950s, more and more children were eagerly enrolling for classical dance classes. Not only were they young, but hailing from ‘non-traditional’ backgrounds, they  had no clue about the deeper meaning of sringara, bhoga, viraha and such. As Dandayudhapani Pillai too had several such students, he wrote, tuned, published and taught innumerable compositions suitable for  young students to understand and perform. These have stood the test of time and are taught across the globe.

I happened to read a perceptive article by Dandayudhapani Pillai (published in his Natya Kalalayam school souvenir) in which he has put forth his views on Bharatanatyam. He says that the art was once in the hands of devadasis who preserved it as a treasure. But, at a particular period there existed the danger of completely losing this art and its divinity. It was found necessary that unless all sections of the people learnt this art, it would lose its glory. It is really interesting that he goes on to say that children who desire to learn Bharatanatyam are increasing in number, but the number of teachers who can impart the art in its pure form are just a few. As a result the people are baffled because they are unable to appreciate real art and unable to honour true artists. This state of affairs has to change. He wrote this in the early 1970s. Well the situation does not seem to have changed much over the decades! Has it?

The second cover story this month focusses on flautist Sikkil Mala Chandrasekhar who turned 58 last month (23 August). Immersed in music since her childhood,  on the one hand, she had the double advantage of being mentored at home by the Sikkil Sisters – her mother Neela and aunt Kunjumani. On the other, she lived in their protective shade for quite awhile and had to prove  her musical mettle as a soloist. Over the years, she has emerged as one of the top Carnatic flautists  of her generation. She is the proud torchbearer of the Sikkil Sisters’ bani – flute playing marked by precision and clarity,  combining fine technique, melody and bhava, steeped in classicism with a flair for nuanced laya wizardry.

Over the past few months, we have been offering our readers interesting facets about Lord Nataraja. From this issue we begin a series on the ‘five sabhas’  where He performed the ‘pancha kritya’ – expounded by scholar Sudha Seshayyan. We also have a thought provoking article on the prosody and origin of javali by veteran critic and writer V.A.K. Ranga Rao.

One wonders whether concert halls will open up in the near future? In the relaxations announced till date by the Tamil Nadu State Government, cinema halls are permitted with 50% occupancy. Does it apply to cultural halls too?  It would be helpful if the authorities clearly include cultural programmes too while announcing the relaxations. Let us wait and watch!

S. JANAKI