Respected Justice S. Muralidhar, former Chief Justice of the Orissa High Court; President of The Music Academy Mr. N. Murali; Sangita Kalanidhi Dr. S Sowmya, Sangita Kalanidhi Bombay Jayashri Ramanth, vice- presidents, secretaries, committee members of The Music Academy, artists of song and instrumental, practitioners of dance, and its accompanying arts, friends and connoisseurs of music, my namaskarams to all of you. M S Subbulakshmi – the very name carries in it the mystique of the temple town Madurai and the extraordinary musical soarings of Sangita Kalanidhi M S Subbulakshmi. For a singer like me to receive an award instituted in her memory is not just a signal honour but a blessing. Even more, it carries with it a responsibility: that I sing not just with my trained voice , not just with a concentrating mind , but with my very being, my life, my all. I thank The Hindu for reposing that responsibility on me.
It is indeed an honour to be standing before you on this stage, a proscenium on which I have witnessed – ‘experienced’ would perhaps be the right word – memorable musical moments, some that have transformed my life forever.
I began learning Karnatik music as a young boy with no idea of why I was doing so. Little did I know then that I was entering an aural topography that would so infuse my imagination as to eventually become me. Even while we study, and practice this artform, we are not fully aware of what it has to offer. We learn music, with an almost mechanical fidelity , initially doing just as we are told. As time goes by, whatever we were instructed in becomes ingrained as habit and we are convinced that the repetitive act is creative and more – it is creative freedom! Honing our techniques, expanding our repertoire, replicating concert success and upskilling keeps us busy. Pleasing the audience is pleasing and applause becomes in itself a kind of music to the musicians’ ears. We are left with little time to pause and reflect on the music and ourselves. Our minds are so fixed on performance that the stage takes over the song. Questions such as ‘Why am I singing this musical form?’ and ‘What am I sharing with all of you every time I take the stage?’ seem too abstract and esoteric as to warrant contemplation. But asking them is essential if we want to truly immerse
in the splendour of this art form. Any cultural or intellectual initiative requires the canopy of an overarching philosophical framework. It is within the shelter of that structure that the details, even the nuts and bolts, have to be worked on. If we do not, all we will have is a rudderless ship.
As it has been said before by many great musicians, India’s gift to the world of music is the Raga, which is at the very core of Karnatik music. Every moment in a concert is drenched with the fragrances of the ragas that we delve into. Raga is both a singular melodic possibility and its own plural. A concert needs to be a Raga experience. In a non-musical sense, Raga is an evocative or evoked state.
We can neither dictate one emotion nor confine it to one feeling. Every individual draws what she, they or he seek from it. Musically, I would further enlarge the word and include within its meaning tala, laya, sahitya, sollukkattu and every rhythmic sound. Then, the question that we need to ask ourselves is, are we evoking Raga ?
When Vidvan Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer opened the shloka Moulou Ganga, hovering on the Panchama; when Vidushi T. Brinda sang emanadiccevo, and the first syllables ‘emana’ stood tantalisingly on the rishabha; when Vidvan M.D. Ramanathan glided across an entire octave, eschewing commonly heard gamakas; when Vidushi M.S. Subbulakshmi’s every sangati in an alapana dazzled like the stars in the sky; when Palghat Mani Iyer executed a pharans at the speed of sound; when Pazhani Subramanya Pillai played his trademark korvais; when S. Balachandar tugged at the vina’s strings stumbling upon one gem after another, ignoring even the need for a ‘pluck’; and when Vidvan V. Nagarajan’s strokes thundered on the Kanjira, they were embracing raga and inviting us into its domain.
This year, at The Music Academy’s 98th annual conference, scholars, musicians, actors, dancers and historians will present papers on the theme Aesthetics and Synaesthetics : Reflections on Raga in Indian Art. The conference will focus on the various manifestations of raga, through history, in practice, and its independent identities and roles across art
forms. Academicians will also explore melodies that exist beyond the realm of the raga.
In a strict musicological sense, Karnatik music is a melodic form. But a more careful observation reveals within it an unrecognised symphony. Imagine in your mind’s eye the vocal rendition of a kirtana. The sahitya travels along with the raga, as words, syllables, consonants and vowels. They extend and contract changing their shape as required by the raga but also simultaneously defining the raga’s contours. In concord with these textual markers, the raga flowers, finds new expression, rests and even offers flourishes of extravagance. These two partners – sahitya and raga – are placed carefully on to a time signature (tala), which has its own silent and sonic gesticulations that regulate laya. The kirtana keeps moving in between and across these divisions. Every time you hear the palm strike, an acoustic layer is added to the kirtana. When you notice the fingers being counted, the impression of the music also changes. As the singer renders the kirtana, the violinist is just behind. Like the sounds that reflect off hillsides, the violinist reminds us of the singer’s previous raga location. On the other side of the stage is the mrdangam, and ghatam, kanjira or morsing artist who together reshape the various sensibilities of time, focus our attention on specific sections, camouflage conflicts, give form to the composition and allow the entire creation to sink into our minds.
If even one of these components moves out of place the integrity of the music ends. Depending on whether a kirtana, neraval, kalpana svara, tani avartana or alapana is being rendered, these elements reconfigure themselves. If this isn’t symphony , I would not know what is.
I can provide many literal reasons as to why we come together in this musical union but I am aware that none of those explanations really address the deep question of ‘Why’? May be the most profound response as to why we embark on this creative endeavour is to say that there is no need for a reason, no conscious causation, is required. Just the magnificence of the experience itself suffices. I have no doubt in my mind that Bhakti is a non-negotiable aspect of Karnatik music. But, like all words, we need think carefully about what we mean. Bhakti is undivided,
unqualified, untainted, complete surrender that cannot be constricted or compartmentalised. It cannot be owned, stuffed into dogmas, and forced upon anyone. The state of the bhakta is vulnerability, being able to see, listen, receive and share abundantly without having to cling on to any crutch. This is the opening Karnatik music provides me every time I sit with my tambura. This bhakti is freedom in surrender, liberation in devotion, bonding in the unity of fusion.
But Karnatik musicians are not just products of the present. We carry the past on our shoulders and hope to pass on something to the future. The word that envelopes our musical minds from the moment we come in contact with Karnatik music is Sampradaya, which we use to mean tradition and convention. As a tradition, it signifies the continuum of multiple threads of thought that constitute Karnatik music. It is also a musical landscape that holds within it the ‘sound of Karnatik music’. If you ask me if this ‘sound’ has remained the same from time immemorial, I wouldn’t know the answer. A study of musical treatises from at least the 16th century helps us trace, to some extent, the journey of the ragas and talas that we today call ‘karnatik’. But, we do not know how enduku nirdaya sounded when Tyagaraja sang it for the first time or the intricacies in the Pallavi that Shyama Sastri is said to have rendered in sharabanandana Tala or the musical nature of the ghana marga that Bobbili Keshavayya presented in the Tanjavur court. But, some anecdotes from the past help us connect with those times. U V Swaminatha Iyer’s description of the events that unfolded when Ghanam Krishna Iyer visited Tyagaraja’s home is telling. Tyagaraja’s students – Kamarasavalli Nanu Ayyar and Tillaisthanam Rama Iyengar – rendered epapamu in raga athana. Then, when Tyagaraja requested Krishna Iyer to sing, the latter rendered an alapana in athana, picked up the Pallavi line of the kirtana and sang many sangatis and Kalpana svaras. After this, at Tyagaraja’s request, he composed the Pallavi of the kirtana ‘summa summa varuguma sukham’ and added hundreds of sangatis. Though U V Swaminatha Iyer uses the term sangati, it likely Krishna Iyer was singing neraval.
A study of the notations published in various publications from the mid- 19th century startles us with similarities to some present-day renditions while also pointing to stark differences that are difficult to resolve.
Descriptions of music performances and artists of the late 19th century and early 20th century by scholars and musicians such as U V Swaminatha Iyer, C.R. Day, Soolamangalam Vaidyanatha Bhagavathar, V N Bhatkande and Mudikondan Venkatarama Iyer reveal many variations in the form and content of a music concert. From these sources and from the oral traditions that we have been bequeathed, we attempt to define Karnatik music. All these parcels of wisdom are interpreted through the voices of the musicians of the early 20th century because technological developments for the first time enabled the audio recording of music.
Within the traditions that have been received are also hidden conventions, which are unquestioned norms or conveniences that come with little or no thought behind them. Every artist needs to thinks seriously about these two interpretations of sampradaya – tradition and convention – because we have a responsibility to comprehend our traditions and not allow for dominant conventions to cloud critical thought. This line of investigation will lead to contestations and debates, which are important because they will provide clarity on where we came from, our present nature, and help us envision the future.
These questions of sampradaya, learning, research and performance have become that much more complicated today. Social media platforms have truncated time to such an extent that music shared on them is more about exciting than unravelling. Every art form has a minimum threshold of duration that it needs to open itself up to the receiver. When that is breached, the music loses its integrity. . Even in the Instagram stories shared from live concerts, more often than not, it is moments of instant gratification that find their way on to social media. Social media is forcing us to become homogeneous in the camera angles that we opt for, the way we present ourselves, speak and sing. Gen Z may argue that we are moving into times when there will be different sets of musicians operating in the real and virtual world. While this might be true, to ignore or brush aside the detrimental effect that these new forces of consumption are having on the texture of Karnatik music would be irresponsible.
With so much happening in the virtual universe, we have forgotten Karnatik music’s sabha culture. I was told by many prominent musicians that, between June and September this year, there were hardly any sabha concerts. In the past, after the lull of the summer months, concerts resumed in mid-June, picking up pace by August. Most cities had sabhas of different sizes and audience reach. Not only were these sabhas located in prominent suburbs of metros, but also dotted smaller cities and towns. This sabha-network is an unique feeder system that provides consistent opportunities to musicians who are at various stages in their musical career. The smaller sabhas helped them gain experience, receive constructive feedback from rasikas and rise in the profession. This network has weakened and this should worry all of us.
While, we gather every December and celebrate Karnatik music, we have to remember that it needs to flourish throughout the year in the nooks and corners of our cities and towns. I believe musicians and institutions such as The Music Academy need to come together and reimagine and revive the smaller sabhas – some of which are decades old – so that Karnatik music is not confined to just a few places.
As a young boy, hopping from one concert to another absorbing all the music, I remember noticing that it was not just to the concerts of the famous that rasikas flocked. Concerts of high calibre musicians who were not necessarily famous or popular also drew sizeable and discerning audiences. Rasikas were not just passive absorbers of the music, they were active participants in nurturing serious Karnatik music. Organisations also made it a point to provide a stage for these musicians, recognising their music and their role within the music’s culture. This gave Karnatik music a great deal of depth. I am concerned that this is not quite the case today, because of which the art of many wonderful musicians remains in the shade. There is a great and undoubted passion for Karnatik music, but music connoisseurs must not see themselves as music consumers. There is no point in celebrating Karnatik music’s musical Parampara-s if we are unwilling to support musicians who represent and carry forward these important legacies.
For any field of activity, including Karnatik music to remain utterly honest, relevant and democratic, it needs to be diverse. Most of us assembled here are insiders and we need to ask ourselves truthfully if we are welcoming of all people. I prefer to use the term non-exclusive rather than inclusive because the latter is burdened with power, sympathy, and one might even say, condescension. Once a space is non-exclusive, it can be home to anyone. Exclusivities develop because of historical and societal practices. It is up to us to recognise our exclusivity and address this separation. We hear people counter this suggestion with the question “Did we stop anyone”? Little do they realise that the fears and apprehensions of those on the fringes and beyond are deep psychological and emotional wounds that have been passed on through generations and reinforced by our thoughtless words and actions. We must work towards the social ideal of unfettered entry, because every individual, irrespective of their social, cultural or economic position, must have a right to Karnatik music.
Creating a Karnatik music environment that is more socially representative will not happen overnight. It requires us to discard pre- conceived notions, move out of our comfort zones and put in concerted and constant effort. Keeping aside exceptions, it may take a few generations before we witness major social shifts in Karnatik music. A majority of first-generation learners will not become performers but, by ensuring that they learn from the best and feel like they belong within the Karnatik fold, we will create a generation of musicians who will teach this art form. Others from these communities will follow suit and knock at the doors of Karnatik music. In a few generations, there is a distinct possibility that many stars will emerge from marginalised sections of society.
As teachers, there are so many things we take for granted because students from within the Karnatik ambit are already culturally attuned. When a student who does not inhabit this space comes to learn from us, we need to reimagine the way we teach and communicate. Only one part of music learning happens within the music classroom. A lot more is gathered from listening to concerts and self-learning. To us, both these activities seem obvious but to a new entrant it is not. We should put greater effort to make concerts more accessible. By ‘accessible’ I am not only referring to
conducting ‘free concerts’ but also to reflect upon and change some of our cultural habits, and receiving with open arms. Students need to be patiently guided on how to listen, what to listen to, the importance of rigour and methods of practice. As a community of musicians, aficionados, institutions and sponsors, we need to invest in providing socio-cultural and financial support to first-generation Karnatik music learners. Beyond these imperative structural changes, as teachers we need to become non-judgemental and treat every student with respect and affection.
For making and sharing beautiful, unbound music, the environment must be utterly safe and un-infringing for everyone; musicians, organisers and the audience. Privacy, a word that we rarely hear in the world of the arts, but is central to creating art, dwells in such a place. Privacy is creativity in dignity, a space where every aspect of being from the physical, to the intellectual, to the aesthetic and emotional, lives – liberated from artistic and personal anxiety, from competitive tension and above all from fear of exclusion. Privacy for an artist – is solitude, not in the sense of shutting off from contact but closing into a relationship of the profoundest creative intimacy with the soul of art. Privacy is, in fact, just about being, just being. For this to happen, society has to actively participate in creating such a secure and fear-free ambience.
Because I occupy many roles in public life, people often ask me how I would like to known. I am primarily a Karnatik musician. It is my conscience and reveals my own limitations and opens my eyes to realities that elude my intellect. Everything I write or say comes from the deep realisation that is embedded in the experience of Karnatik music. This does not mean that I am always right. But the music has given me the strength to remain silent and learn. Karnatik Music, like any art form, will reveal the truth if we allow it to do so. But if we choose to hold it by the scruff of its neck and conquer it, music will merely satisfy our requirements. The choice is ours: do we want Karnatik music to spread its wings and roam the skies or do we want to control it within our closed palms?
Published – December 16, 2024 02:27 pm IST
