Reader Sampath Kumar in his letter states (Sruti 309) that Sirkazhi Govindarajan never performed at the Music Academy. I would like to clarify that Sirkazhi perfomed on 20th December 1981 in the prime evening slot between 5 and 7.30 pm at the Academy. His accompanists were Sikkil Bhaskaran and Guruvayur Dorai.
In a previous issue of Sruti the credit for composing the chittaswara in Jaganmohini raga for Sobillu saptaswara was been given to GNB. This was composed by the veena vidwan Karaikudi Sambasiva Iyer.
P. Vasanth Kumar Chennai
Valayapatti
Tavil maestro Valayapatti fully deserved the Sangita Kalanidhi title conferred on him by the Music Academy. He is the first tavil vidwan to be so honoured. That Valayapatti has accompanied stalwarts like Karukurichi Arunachalam, Sheik Chinna Maula, Namagiripettai Krishnan, and A.K.C. Natarajan, to quote a few, speaks volumes of the performance skills of the master tavildar.
Way back in the early 1960s, my uncle, a fine music rasika, said to me: “There is no tavil vidwan equal to Valayapatti”. He was not only at the top, but also helped to bring other musicians to the limelight. Tiruvizha R. Jayashankar (a retired programme executive of AIR) was one of his beneficiaries. They performed at a wedding ceremony at Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi’s residence, which the famed piper still ranks as a performance par excellence of his career.
It is heartening to learn that Sruti has been celebrating the GNB centenary befittingly with articles on the maestro with excellent illustrative photos of the past, bringing back nostalgic memories of the artist par excellence that GNB was!
After GNB, it was his disciple Trichur V. Ramachandran who enthralled the Navaratri audience, rendering the songs the maestro had made memorable. It was here that GNB breathed his last on May day 1965. The physician who attended on GNB at the General Hospital, Dr. Kochunarayanan, told me that despite his warning of failing health, the maestro performed late into the night singing the numbers rasika-s requested, badly affecting his health.
Vasco da Gama died at Kochi (Kerala) in the 16th century. In the premises of a church stands a crucifix with an epitaph as a monument. For our GNB who lived for the masses entertaining them, why can’t we erect a memorial in the capital city of Kerala?
K.V. Ananthakrishnan
Tiruvanantapuram
GNB
The detailed analysis of GNB’s music in Sruti is very informative and indicates in the first instance, the availability of so much relevant material and the scope for in-depth study. Perhaps GNB sang more often in Madras city than most of his contemporaries and had more articulate admirers among the younger generation, city bred and educated.
Also, he went beyond stage performance to express his thoughts. While each component had its distinct approach and richness in substance, the sense of proportion and aesthetic quality of his presentation would have accounted for his unique total appeal. Could his art be viewed as an amalgam, incorporating in some measure, the musical acumen and orderliness of Ariyakudi, manodharma brilliance of Maharajapuram, versatility of Muthiah Bhagavatar, swaraprastara technique of Tiger, raga elaboration and briga of the nagaswara bani, voice culture and reposefulness of the Hindustani system, elegance and aesthetics of his own ‘sensitive’ impulses? I was always overawed by his music and personality. T.M. Krishna has rightly pointed out the futility of trying to imitate any individual element of the GNB style.
At the same time, statements asserting that he was the first one to usher many nuances in Carnatic music may perhaps require reconsideration in some respects, as there would have been pioneers and proficient musicians before him as public concerts came into vogue from the mid-19th century about which such recorded data may not be available for such analysis or personal experiences unpublicised.
Take for instance, the ‘briga’ aspect frequently referred to along with ‘sruti bhedam’, while discussing GNB’s art. It is generally stated that he was the one to adapt it in vocal music after listening to the nagaswaram artists. I have heard from an old timer that the amazing voice quality, its range and the ‘briga’ facility of S.G. Kittappa who sang Carnatic music in Tamil drama, captivated many nagaswara artists, including the incomparable TNR and efforts were made by them to follow the pattern.
While at this point, I would like to know if there is any standard or even working definition of the term ‘briga’? Can it be described as a ‘quick succession of discrete notes, in ascending and descending orders without detachment; not in a staccato style’?
I am puzzled by a reference to in the recent book on the history of the Music Academy (ref. page 178) – that GNB refused to sing after Roshanara Begum. Why did such a gifted and ‘glamorous’ artist at the peak of his form and popularity feel so diffident, when Pattammal and Ariyakudi had no such hesitation to take the stage and could hold their own in the Carnatic idiom?
Manna Srinivasan
New Delhi
Class is permanent
Please accept my whole-hearted congratulations on producing a gem of a magazine, continuing from where the great N. Pattabhi Raman had left off. I would also like to include the GNB DVD’s in your list of terrific achievements. In what I read, heard and saw, you have cleared up or confirmed my understanding of the roles of different folks from our past (and present, too). I have spent – like millions of others, I hope – hours dreaming of the excellence reached by so many of your subjects, saying ‘Why not me?’ and working hard to escape my own mediocrity.
I am now listening to a GNB rendition of Kambhoji at Kolkata in 1963 with T.N. Krishnan and Palghat Raghu. His voice is clearly strained, a decade or more past his prime. His sweet greatness is very evident, though, and so is the devotion and protectiveness his still young accompanists feel towards him. How fortunate am I to be soaking this up!
Shekhar Iyer
By email
Oothukadu, Ravikiran and I
My exchange with ‘Chitravina’ Ravikiran extended beyond the pages of Sruti into e-mails. He was generous enough to send me a copy of his book and a CD of Oothukadu compositions. I have listened to the CD several times. The music is simply superb. I am currently reading the book. I must add that Ravikiran has sent me a long and elaborate answer to a couple of my questions. I am overwhelmed and grateful.
Ramaswamy R. Iyer
New Delhi
Ravikiran
The article on chitraveena maestro N. Ravikiran (Sruti 306) was very interesting. The writer talks about the prodigy, his styles, early childhood learning and his music as a mature artist. The article weaves together the finer aspects of music learning, parental involvement and the guru’s guidance. This will be very encouraging to younger music learners. The interview during his youth was very straightforward and appropriate to the point. I am very impressed by Ravikiran’s teaching mission to spread his music in India and abroad. There are only a few great musicians of his calibre who can perform and teach to a very high standard. Ravikiran belongs to this rare music group. I sincerely thank Sruti for publishing such a high calibre article and look forward to more such articles.
Narasimha Kikkeri
Dallas, U.S.A.
M.K. Tyagaraja Bhagavatar
The two-part profile on M.K. Tyagaraja Bhagavatar by Vamanan (Sruti 307 & 308) was informative and interesting. The box item in the May issue under the title ‘Sivan and Bhagavatar” can be called the highlight of the profile, the jewel in the crown. It portrays the chemistry between the two stalwarts brilliantly. The piece took me back to the years 1985-88 when
I was working in Sruti.
I had been a great fan of MKT’s films and his singing, and came to know from the late Poornam Viswanathan that Bhagavatar’s sister’s husband was living on T.T.K. Road (then Mowbray’s Road). He was leading an ascetic’s life.
I went to see him in his house – ashram would be a more appropriate word. He was excited when I asked him for information for an article on MKT. “That’s good news indeed. I have lots and lots of information about MKT, besides the original recordings of all his film songs!” It was my turn to get excited. “Sir, can I hear his Kannai izhandavan neeyo naano? from the film Chintamani?”, I asked. “Why not?” said the gentleman. “All the songs for MKT were written and composed by Sivan. In fact the first condition of MKT to any producer was that Papanasam Sivan should write the lyrics and music. Sivan wrote the very best of music for MKT in chaste classical raga-s.” So saying he went inside and brought the tape. I remember the thrill with which I heard the song – the recording quality was awesome.
The Sruti Editor was however not keen to go ahead with the story. “MKT is renowned as a singing actor and not as a classical singer, though he performed occasionally on the concert platform. Let us profile our giants like GNB, Musiri and Ariyakudi before taking up MKT,” he said with finality. That marked the end of my encounter with MKT’s sister’s husband.
I met MKT only once, in December 1947 when he was to give a concert in Tamil Isai Sangam. This was part of the annual festival, which used to be held at St. Mary’s Hall, Armenian Street in George Town. I was working with Vellimani, a
Tamil magazine, and was covering Tamil Isai Sangam concerts for the magazine.
I was fortunate to go with the publisher Chinna Annamalai and sit in the first row. When MKT entered, he greeted Chinna Annamalai. I was then introduced to him, upon which he asked me: “Have you seen any of my films?”
I told him I had seen every single film of his, from Pavalakkodi to Haridas which had run for three successive Deepavalis from 1944 to 1946, and I saw the film almost every weekend – I was that crazy about Haridas. MKT had a hearty laugh and said he was delighted that I liked his films so much. He then ascended the stage and gave a full-fledged Carnatic concert in pure traditional style, without including any film songs of his.
V.S. Sundara Rajan (Su. Ra.)
Chennai
Bhajan singing
We see a number of bhajan groups giving public performances, which have become common and popular. I would like to record some of my observations here:
Although called bhajan and performed by competent singers, these programmes become entertainment rather than prayer. They also at times play the part of Harikatha artists with interspersed speeches. Excessive raga alapana while singing sloka-s and too many sangati-s in songs to exhibit their prowess in music, mar the bhajan atmosphere. Harikatha and raga alapana require special talent to be made interesting. This should be left to the specialists in these arts. A few sangati-s to enhance the effect of the lyrics and adequate melodious singing of sloka-s in raga-s to touch the heart would suffice. Exhibitionism has no place in bhajan-s. At times the audience applaud too – inappropriately in a bhajan. The singing should be of a quality that listeners feel tempted to join. There is no need to exhort the audience to raise their hands and sing along, as in Pandharpur.
A word about the percussion instruments. Their sound invariably drowns the voice of the singers.
V. Sivaswamy
Hyderabad
Butter singers
Sahitya bheda is indulged in or ingrained in the sahitya itself in many Hindustani bhajan-s. For instance, in the Maiyya mori bhajan of Surdas, the sentence “Main nahin makhan khayo” (I did not eat the butter) is also rendered as “Main ne hi makhan khayo” (It is I who ate the butter!).
B.R. Kumar
Chennai
Prayer in functions
V.P. Dhananjayan’s observations are true and his recommendations are quite appropriate (Sruti Box, Sruti 307).
I have often pleaded with organisers to ensure that the prayer is just an invocation. At one venue, to my great relief, the ‘prayer girl’ began the sloka - Vakratunda mahakaya, but my happiness ended abruptly as it was full of mistakes and faulty pronunciation. Another instance saw the ‘invocator’ singing the extremely popular Bho Sambho glamorously to thundering applause.
There are some more interesting aspects associated with prayer sessions:
It is not that easy to get a chance even in ‘prayer slots’ in leading sabha-s. It is almost a precursor to concert singing and perhaps that is the reason why a prayer is presented just short of niraval – swaraprastara!
Presentation of a memento to the ‘praying artist’ – invariably by the chief guest – has become an order of the day with the compere prompting the audience to ‘give a big hand’.
I have often wondered why prayer slots are reserved for girls!
I would also request Dhanajayan Sir to suggest a few tips to streamline ‘kuthuvilakku lighting’ and award presentation sessions. I have witnessed scenes where dignitaries unnecessarily beckon one another to light the multiple wicks in the lamps, and crowd around the awardee during award presentation. Many chief guests who speak highly of the awardee and the art promptly leave the venue after their role is over without waiting for the cultural event that could feature the awardee! Even if they do stay back, it is only for the first number.
S. Sivaramakrishnan
Nagapattinam
The String Quartet
Your excellent feature on V.S. Narasimhan (Sruti 309) was indeed a scholarly essay written by Ramesh Vinayakam. Dr. Samuel Magrill, a good friend and the co-author of my book Music Of India was visiting Chennai from Oklahoma, U.S.A. He expressed a wish to share his compositions with those well-versed in Western music in Chennai. Thanks to my young and vibrant piano master Ramesh Vinayakam, we had the members of The String Quartet walking into our house to work
with Sam! I was transported to a different realm of music with the rehearsals making our dance hall reverberate with divine harmony. We organised a chamber music concert at our place and as the evening approached we were amazed at the tidal wave of people walking in and filling up every nook and corner of our humble dance hall, while many stood outside till the
end of the concert!
I was overwhelmed by the professionalism of this erudite and self-effacing scholar. To top it all, the string quartet politely refused any honorarium from us saying that it was their goodwill gesture to a musician from the West. Well, I fold my arms in reverence to Narasimhan and whole-heartedly say, May God bless him!
M.V. Narasimhachari
Chennai
A deserving tribute
Kudos to Sruti for putting the focus on a man who would rather work on his vision of giving Carnatic music a Western setting (without taking away a jot from its essence) than seek the limelight. That a younger musician and composer like Ramesh Vinayakam has painstakingly and lovingly set forth the musical journey of V.S. Narasimhan is a deserving tribute both to the latter as well as to Sruti. I found Narasimhan’s film songs full of nostalgia for the sweetness and melody of the romantic era of Tamil songs even as they bore the stamp of his individuality. I heard his Resonance and was bowled over. I liked it so much that I made a present of it.
I would like to add that MLV almost made a bow as an actress in films but withdrew at the last moment, preferring to be a playback.
Pattammal not only never acted but also refused to sing love songs or duets.
Vamanan
Chennai
A gentleman musician
I was delighted to read the feature on V.S. Narasimhan in the June issue of Sruti. He and Kunnakudi Sekar met Peria Sarada and me for the first time at Adyar in 1993. Our friendship and appreciation of each other deepened and flowered as the years rolled by. The String Quartet practised in our house ‘Yasodalaya’ in the Theosophical Society almost every week in the early years. They gave a concert for the members of the Theosophical Society and later for the delegates of our international convention in the Adyar theatre.
Conrad Jamieson, an Adyarite, used to bring the String Quartet the music of great composers whenever he returned to Chennai from his trips to his hometown in New Zealand.
Narasimhan often sang for Sarada who used to say that he could have easily become a noteworthy singer. He also played Carnatic music for her on the violin. When Sarada was unwell and in bed in the adjacent room while the Quartet practised in our house, she would recall later how many times they had repeated a particular movement of a composer till it became perfect.
When the quartet experimented and practised with fusion music for the Carnatic song Krishna nee begane baaro, I was eager to have Sarada’s opinion. I remember she said: “He has a good future as long as he does not resort to gymnastics in it! Any innovation or creative effort will be beautiful if it goes along with nature – when there is no vulgarity in it. When we understand classical music and give expression to it, it will be soul satisfying and beautiful.” As I read what Narasimhan had to say in Sruti about fusion music and the like, I could not help recalling how it concurred with Sarada’s views.
Narasimhan and Sekar are sensitive musicians. Narasimhan is soft spoken and self effacing. He is a perfect gentleman, or shall I say, human who is always able to see and comprehend the better side of life. His smiling face always gives cheer to his friends.
G. Sundari
Chennai
A splendid violinist
Sruti is to be highly commended for bringing out a wonderful write-up of the versatile violinist, V.S. Narasimhan. Though, all his life so far, this shy man has remained in the background, it is the duty of the music world to shower encomiums on such a splendid violinist. I have known him for many years. I knew his teacher, Adrian l’Armande, who came to India to learn Carnatic music under B.K. Viswanatha Sarma. Adrian and Sarma came to my house in Tanjavur. And I met Narasimhan when he was learning the Western style of playing the violin from Adrian. I have attended his concerts with the Madras Chamber Orchestra and used to marvel at his technique, even his body language. I continue to admire him and his music.
Once Narasimhan and I were invited to give lecdems in the Bangalore School of Music at Bangalore. Impressed by VSN, Dr. Raja Ramanna, the scientist who was adept at playing the piano, asked me to give him some Tyagaraja’s compositions in staff notation. Narasimhan volunteered to help and wrote (what beautiful calligraphy!) and prepared the notations for five kriti-s. Dr. Ramanna thanked me on the stage, but confessed that 90 % of the thanks must go to Narasimhan.
Narasimhan, ‘Echo’ R. Parthasarathi and I sometimes met at the Music Academy canteen and discussed music and background scores. A very versatile violinist indeed. Ramesh Vinayakam may say VS stands for ‘Violin Solo’, but ‘Violin Star’ would be more fitting.
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