Remembering Gandhi!

 

Gandhi was killed on January 30, 1948, barely months after India became independent, at a time when the country was still bleeding from a deeply painful and chaotic Partition. If there is a day to pause and think about him, his choices, and his sacrifice, it is today.

What troubles me deeply in recent years is the growing ease with which Gandhi is spoken about with disdain, even hatred, by friends and family I otherwise respect. The man once widely and instinctively called the Father of the Nation and Mahatma is now dismissed with startling confidence. The accusations are familiar. He was a British stooge. Nonviolence was weakness and armed struggle would have brought freedom faster. He appeased Muslims at the cost of Hindus. India was partitioned because he accepted British plans.

What disturbs me more than these claims is where they come from. Many of these ideas are absorbed unquestioningly from WhatsApp forwards and social media posts. They are repeated as settled facts, even when they are selective readings, gross distortions, or outright falsehoods. The habit of pausing to verify, to read deeply, to apply reason and historical context, seems to be vanishing. We judge past leaders without bothering to understand the constraints they worked under or the moral and political calculations they were forced to make.

I do not believe Gandhi was infallible. He was human. He made mistakes. There are decisions of his that I disagree with even today. But to reduce him to a villain, or worse, to erase his moral stature altogether, is intellectual laziness at best and wilful distortion at worst. India would simply not be what it is without leaders like him.

Over the last year or so, I have spent time reading Gandhi more seriously. In his own words. Through the eyes of those who worked closely with him. Through perspectives that emerge when reading about Gokhale, and even Tilak, who stood on a very different ideological ground. These readings do not demand agreement. They demand understanding. They show the impossible choices, the negotiations, and the compromises made in pursuit of a larger good. I may still disagree with certain decisions, but at least I understand why those decisions were taken.

From everything I have read, one thing is clear to me. Gandhi was deeply inspiring, morally demanding, and far better as a human being than most of us will ever manage to be. He does not deserve the casual contempt and venom that is increasingly directed at him. I am not asking anyone to change their opinion because I say so. I am only asking for honesty. Read authentic material. Read multiple perspectives. Think for yourself instead of outsourcing your judgment to forwarded messages and manufactured outrage.

Gandhi was a man of his times, with all the limitations that implies. But his evolution, from Gujarat to England, to South Africa, and back again, is one of the most remarkable journeys of self-transformation and moral courage we know. In three of my recent writing projects, Gandhi has played a central role. The reading and research that came with them have reshaped what Gandhi means to me. For that alone, I am grateful.

Today, more than ever, I feel it is worth saying this out loud.

Happy Birthday TMK!

 

Dear Krishna, 

Happy 50th and welcome to the club. 

This feels like a good moment to pause and say thank you, both as a rasika writing about an artist and as a friend looking back with affection.

You have shaped my musical life in ways I did not even realize while it was happening. As a listener, you taught me to slow down, to stop chasing fireworks, and to sit with music that breathes. Your relaxed approach to singing, your refusal to hurry a phrase, and your unwavering commitment to music and musicality, even while questioning form, content, and structure have completely changed how I listen. I may not agree with all your experiments and explorations but I am sure that is the only way to expand the horizon. Personally, I no longer listen for the so-called high points. I listen for honesty, intent, and the silence between notes. That shift is entirely your doing.

I have followed you across cities, seasons, and contexts with the kind of dedication that would worry any sensible person. While living in New Jersey, I traversed from Boston to Washington DC, moving from one concert to the next. In Texas, it has been Houston to Austin to Dallas. We had a fair bit of fun in New York city and in Austin. How can I forget the Karpooram Narumo you sang sitting in our driveway! 

The highlight of all my trips, of course, was December 2024, when you were awarded the Sangita Kalanidhi. I still remember arriving in Chennai after an absurdly long journey just to hear you at the Music Academy, sustained more by excitement than sleep. The hall overflowing, people listening from outside, the quiet intensity on stage, and you visibly moved by your own music at moments. Those images stay with me.

We have had our share of conversations, discussions, arguments, and disagreements, which is perhaps the most reliable indicator of a real friendship. I still remember the affection you have for my parents and especially for my mother. You gave a moving speech on her 80th birthday.  I am glad there were occasions when I could help you in small ways, and I cherish those experiences. I am especially proud that I have been able to translate the lyrics of many Tamil songs you sing into English. Somewhere along the way, that effort helped me discover myself as a translator, and I seem to be doing reasonably well on that front.

I make presentations for a living, but you remain one of the finest presenters I have listened to. You have a rare ability to speak about deeply technical ideas without making a lay listener feel excluded. You never talk down, never oversimplify, and yet make complex ideas feel approachable. Many times, I have walked into your lectures knowing I would not understand everything and have always walked out feeling richer, more curious, and eager to listen again. That is a gift.

What I admire most, though, is the human being behind the musician. Your openness to other musical forms, your genuine collaborations, and your insistence on bringing accompanists to the center of the stage rather than keeping them in the background have quietly expanded the moral universe of our concert spaces. Your work in recognizing instrument makers and other non performing artisans who remain the backbone of our musical ecosystem. Especially your writing on mridangam makers, your collaboration with the Jogappas, your work in Urur Olcott programs, and such, have helped many of us see music not merely as performance, but as shared labor, shared history, and shared dignity.

You have never separated music from life, and that, to me, is your greatest contribution. You have shown that tradition is not something to be preserved in a glass case, but something that stays alive only when it is questioned, stretched, and loved fiercely. 

I wish you many wonderful years ahead. May the coming decades bring you the same curiosity, courage, mischief, and depth that have defined your journey so far. And selfishly, I pray you continue to move, disturb, comfort, and enthrall listeners like me for many years to come.

With affection, admiration, and friendship.

Rajesh

கல்வியா? செல்வமா? வீரமா?

நிதம் எழுதும் குழுமத்தில் சொக்கன் உங்கள் நண்பர், உறவினர் வட்டாரத்திலிருந்து கல்விக்கு ஒருவர், செல்வத்துக்கு ஒருவர், வீரத்துக்கு ஒருவர் என்று மூன்று பேரைப்பற்றிச் சுருக்கமாக எழுதுங்கள் என்றார். எனக்கு மூவர் தேவைப்படவில்லை.

என் அம்மா பெயர் கோமதி. அவர் பிறந்து வளர்ந்த சமுதாயம் இன்றைய சமுதாயத்தை விட மிகவும் மாறுபட்டது. பெண்களுக்கு எவ்வளவு சீக்கிரம் திருமணம் செய்து விட முடியுமோ அவ்வளவு சீக்கிரம் செய்துவிட வேண்டும் என்றிருந்த காலம். என் தாத்தா அந்தக் காலத்து மனிதர் என்பதால் என் அம்மாவுக்குச் சிறு வயதிலேயே திருமணம் செய்து வைத்துவிட்டார். திருமணம் ஆகும் பொழுது அம்மாவுக்கு வயது பதினொன்று. கணவர், அவரின் சொந்த அத்தை மகன். இருவரும் கல்லிடைக்குறிச்சியில் ஒரே தெருவில் வாழ்ந்தவர்கள். அடுத்தடுத்த வீடுகள்தாம்.

அவரின் திருமண வாழ்வு அப்படி ஒன்றும் சொல்லிக் கொள்ளும்படி அமைந்துவிடவில்லை. பதினைந்து வயது ஆகும் பொழுது முதல் குழந்தை. அந்த மகன் பிறந்த சில வருடங்களிலேயே எதோ நோய்வாய்பட்டு நாற்காலியோடு கட்டிப் போடப்பட்ட சோகம். அதற்குப் பின் இன்னும் இரண்டு மகன்கள். அவர்களுக்கும் ஏதேதோ உடல்நலக் குறைவுகள். சொந்தத்திலேயே திருமணம், அதுவும் சிறுவயதிலேயே என்பதால் இது போன்ற பிரச்னைகள் என்று இன்றைக்குத் தெரிகிறது ஆனால் அன்றைக்கு அவ்வளவு விழிப்புணர்வு யாருக்குமே இல்லை.

இது போதாதென்று அப்பாவிற்கு ஒரு விபத்தில் காலில் பிரச்னை ஏற்பட்டு சரியாக நடக்க முடியாமல் போனது. அதனால் அவருக்கும் நிரந்தர வேலை ஒன்றும் இல்லாமல் ஆனது. ஏதோ சொற்ப வருமானத்தில்தான் குடும்பத்தைப் பார்த்துக் கொள்ள வேண்டிய கட்டாயம். இவை எல்லாம் நான் பிறக்கும் முன் நடந்தவை. நான் பிறந்த பொழுது அம்மாவுக்கு வயது முப்பத்து ஆறு, முதல் மகன் பிறந்து இருபத்தோரு வருடங்களுக்குப் பின்பு நான் பிறந்த பொழுது இரண்டாவது மகன் கல்லூரியிலும் மூன்றாவது மகன் உயர்நிலைப் பள்ளியிலும் படித்துக் கொண்டிருந்தார்கள்.

கல்வி: அம்மா தொடக்கப்பள்ளி முடித்து இடைநிலைப் பள்ளிக்குக் கூடச் செல்லாதவர். ஆனால் அவர் கற்பதைக் கடைசிக் காலம் வரை நிறுத்தவே இல்லை. செய்தித்தாள்கள், வார மாத இதழ்கள், நாவல்கள், ஸ்லோகப் புத்தகங்கள் என்று எதையேனும் படித்துக் கொண்டே இருப்பார். அவருக்கு எத்தனையோ ஸ்லோகங்கள், பஜனைகள், பக்திப்பாடல்கள் மனப்பாடமாகத் தெரியும். கோயில் நிகழ்ச்சிகளில் ஆர்வத்துடன் கலந்து கொண்டு அவற்றைச் சொல்வார். மெதுவாக ஆங்கிலத்தில் படிக்கவும் எழுதவும் கூடக் கற்றுக் கொண்டார். அவருக்கு கர்நாடக இசையில் ஆர்வம் அதிகம். பாட்டுகளைக் கேட்டுக் கேட்டு ராகங்களைக் கண்டுபிடிக்கக் கற்றுக் கொண்டார். இசை நிகழ்ச்சிகளுக்கு ஆர்வத்துடன் செல்வார். பெற்றோர்கள் தனக்கு முறையாகக் கர்நாடக இசையைக் கற்பிக்கவில்லை என்பது அவருக்குப் பெருங்குறை.

அம்மாவுக்கு நன்றாகச் சமைக்கத் தெரியும். என் பாட்டி இளவயதிலேயே இறந்துவிட்டதால் அம்மா சமைக்கக் கற்றுக் கொண்டதெல்லாம் அவரின் முயற்சியால்தான். புதிது புதிதாக என்னவெல்லாமோ முயன்று பார்ப்பாள். அப்பளம், வடாம், ஊறுகாய் என்று எதையேனும் செய்துகொண்டே இருப்பார். அம்மா செய்து என்றோ ஒரு நாள் உண்ட பதார்த்தத்தைப் பற்றி இன்று வரை பேசுபவர்கள் உண்டு. கைவினைப் பொருட்கள் செய்வதிலும் ஆர்வம் அதிகம். பிளாஸ்டிக் வயர்கள் கொண்டு கூடைகள் புனைவார். தைப்பது, எம்பிராய்டரி என்று பலதும் அவருக்குக் கைவந்த கலைகள். தோட்டத்தில் இருந்து பூக்களைப் பறித்து மாலையாகத் தொடுக்கத் தெரியும். குடும்பத்திலும் சரி, நண்பர்கள் வீடுகளிலும் சரி, எந்த நிகழ்ச்சியானாலும் அம்மாவுக்கு கோலம் போடும் பொறுப்பு வந்து சேர்ந்து விடும். பெரிது பெரிதாக, விதவிதமாக பொடிக் கோலம், மாக்கோலம் என்று அசத்துவார்.

இதெல்லாம் போதாது என்று காலம் மாற மாற மின்னணுப் பொருட்களைக் கையாள்வதிலும் தேர்ந்தார். போன், டேப்லட் எல்லாம் பயன்படுத்தக் கற்றுக் கொண்டார். வாட்ஸாப் போன்ற செயலிகளைப் பயன்படுத்தக் கற்றுக் கொண்டார். இறுதிக் காலம் வரை அவர் எதையேனும் கற்றுக் கொள்ள வேண்டும் என்ற முனைப்புடனே இருந்தார். அவரின் கற்றுக் கொள்ளும் ஆர்வம் எனக்கும் இறுதி வரை குறையாமல் இருக்க வேண்டும் என்பது என் அவா.

செல்வம்: செல்வம் பணத்தைச் சார்ந்தது அல்ல, மனத்தைச் சார்ந்தது என்பது அவர் சொல்லித் தந்த பாடம். அதை வெறும் வார்த்தைகளாகச் சொன்னதில்லை. செயலில்தான் காட்டினார். மிகக் குறைந்த வருவாய் இருந்தாலும் எதற்குமே குறையில்லாத மாதிரி ஒரு தோற்றத்தை அம்மா உருவாக்கி வைத்திருந்தார். விருந்தினர்கள் வந்து கொண்டே இருப்பார்கள். யாருக்கும் பசி இல்லாமல் பார்த்துக் கொள்வார். தனக்குக் கிடைத்தவற்றை முழுமையாகப் பயன்படுத்துவது எப்படி என்று அவரிடம்தான் கற்றுக் கொள்ள வேண்டும். உதாரணத்திற்கு வாங்கிய பாலில் தயிர் செய்து, அதன் ஆடையை எடுத்து வெண்ணெய் கடைந்து, அதை உருக்கி நெய்யாக்கிக் கொண்டு வீட்டில் பால் தயிர் மோர் வெண்ணெய் நெய் என்று குறைவில்லாமல் பார்த்துக் கொள்வார்.

சமயத்தில் பல வியாபாரங்களைச் செய்ததுண்டு. வீட்டில் இருந்து கொண்டே புடைவை வாங்கி விற்கும் வேலையை செய்தார். அப்பளம், ஊறுகாய் தயாரித்து விற்பனை செய்த காலமும் உண்டு. தான் செய்த பிளாஸ்டிக் கூடைகளையும் மற்ற கலைப்பொருட்களையும் விற்பனை செய்திருக்கிறார். தோட்டத்தில் இருக்கும் முருங்கை மரங்களில் இருந்து காயைப் பறித்து விற்பனை செய்ய என்னைத் தூண்டியது அவர்தான்.

தனக்கென்று வீடில்லை என்பது அவருக்குப் பெரிய குறை. பின்னாட்களில் மகன்கள் மூவர் சொந்த வீடு வாங்கிய பின்புதான் அந்தக் குறை அவருக்கு ஓரளவு தீர்ந்தது. அதுபோல நாங்கள் சொந்தமாக கார் வாங்கி அவரைக் கூட்டிச் சென்ற பொழுதும் பெரிதும் உவந்தார்.

நம்மிடம் எவ்வளவு பணம் இருக்கிறது என்பதை விட, நம்மைக் காட்டிலும் வறியவர்களுக்கு எப்படி உதவலாம் என்று நினைக்க அவர் சொல்லித் தந்ததை விட சிறந்த செல்வம் இல்லை என்றே நினைக்கிறேன்.

வீரம்: “வீரம்னா என்னான்னு தெரியுமா.. பயமில்லாத மாதிரி நடிக்கிறது..” என்பது குருதிப்புனல் என்ற திரைப்படத்தில் வரும் பிரபல வசனம். ஆனால் வீரம் என்பது வாழ்வில் நாம் சந்திக்கும் சோதனைகளை எப்படிச் சமாளிக்கிறோம் என்பதும்தான். அந்த விதத்தில் அம்மா பெரிய வீராங்கனைதான்.

சிறுவயதிலேயே திருமணம். பதினைந்து வயதில் பிறந்த முதல் மகன் தனக்கென்று ஒன்றும் செய்து கொள்ள முடியாமல் இருந்த அவலம். அவனையும் முப்பத்து ஏழு வருடங்கள் பார்த்துக் கொண்ட பின் அவன் இறந்து போன சோகத்தை எதிர்கொண்ட விதம். கணவருக்கு கால் முடங்கிப் போய் அவரும் வீட்டோடு இருக்க, கிடைத்த வருமானத்தை வைத்துக் கொண்டு வாழ்க்கையை எதிர்கொண்ட விதம். மற்ற குழந்தைகளுக்கும் இருதய அறுவைச்சிகிச்சை, வாகன விபத்து என்று உடல்நலக் குறைகள் வந்த பொழுதும் அவற்றைக் கண்டு கலங்காமல் சமாளித்த விதம். மீண்டும் மீண்டும் சென்னை, கோவை, பெங்களூர், மும்பை என்று வேர் விட்டு எழும் பொழுதெல்லாம் ஏதோ காரணத்தால் இடம் மாறி மீண்டும் ஆரம்பத்தில் இருந்து தொடங்க நேர்ந்தாலும் கவலைப்படாமல் தழைத்தெழுந்த விதம். கணவரைப் பறி கொடுத்த நேரத்தில் உடைந்துவிடாமல் மீண்டு எழுந்த விதம். தனக்கே புற்றுநோய் வந்தாலும் அதிலிருந்து மீண்டு வந்த விதம். எழுபது வயதான பின் மொழியும் தெரியாமல், யார் துணையும் இல்லாமல் அமெரிக்காவில் இருந்து இந்தியாவுக்கு சென்ற விதம்.

இப்படி வாழ்க்கையில் பிரச்னை வரும் பொழுதெல்லாம் அவர் காண்பித்த தைரியம் எனக்கெல்லாம் பாடம்தான். இவரையும் விட நான் அறிந்த வீரர் என்று யாரைச் சொல்ல?

இன்றைக்கு அவர் இருந்திருந்தால் தொண்ணூறு வயதானதைக் கொண்டாடி இருக்கலாம்.

99th Annual Conference of The Music Academy – Day 16

In Tamil, there is a saying that the rains might have stopped but it is still drizzling. This post on the Day 16 of the lecture demonstrations is akin to that.

The final day of the season was the only day the theme of the discussions was not about Dikshitar. The first lecture of the day was by the recipient of this year’s Musicologist Award, Prof. Dr. C.A. Sreedhara. He spoke on “The evolution of the flute in Carnatic music” to commemorate the centenary of Vidwan T.R. Mahalingam. The famous flautist, affectionately called Mali was born in November 1926 and this celebration promises 2026 to be the year of the eccentric and extremely talented flautist. 

Dr. Sreedhara started by tracing the references to flute in ancient Indian texts. He explained that these references are available right from the Vedas and in other texts such as Upanishads, Bhagavatha, Mahabharata and Ramayana. He explained in the details the mention of  types of flute, playing techniques and more from Bharata’s Natyashashtra. He then took up Silappathikaram, a fifth / sixth century Tamil classic as his next source. Dr. Sreedhara explained that the book mentions materials used for making flute, structure of the flute including dimensions, playing techniques, and qualities of flautists. He was so inspired by the details that he has even made a prototype based on these details. Saranga Deva’s Sangeetha Rathnakara from the 13th century was the next treatise he referred to. In this too many details such as the types, materials, structure, playing techniques are all mentioned. 

He then went on to talk about contributions by flautists starting with Kumbakonam Sharabha Shastri, who was instrumental (pun intended) in making flute as a concert instrument from its earlier position as an accompaniment to dance, being part of an ensemble and so on. Sangita Kalanidhi Palladam Sanjeeva Rao, Shastri’s disciple was next and a recording of his playing was shared. Tiruppambaram Swaminatha Pillai was termed as innovative and a recording of his was played. And that brought up Mali. Dr. Sreedhara heaped praise on his music and played extracts from his performances. 

Dr. Sreedhara’s delivery style was very engaging. But given that this was to commemorate the centenary of Vidwan Mali, I was hoping to hear more of his playing in the demonstration part but that was not to be.

And just like that, we came to the final lecture demonstration of the season. This year’s Sangita Kala Acharya, Thanjavur R. Govindarajan, was in conversation with the well known Lalitha Ram on the Var Tavil. Very aptly, the lecture began with the traditional invocation phrases played on the tavil, followed by a Dikshitar composition, in keeping with the theme of the year. Sri Govindarajan began with an explanation of the history of the Var Tavil.

Although there is no clear historical evidence regarding its origins, he estimated this form to be over two hundred and fifty years old and suggested that it may have evolved from another percussion instrument, the Nagara. He listed several doyens of earlier generations who played the Var Tavil and specifically highlighted their felicity in accompanying Nagaswaram artists rather than showcasing individual brilliance. The instrument lent itself so naturally to accompaniment that it sounded like a third Nagaswaram, he remarked. He also observed that it was possible to identify artists by the distinctive sound of their tavil and their playing style, something that is difficult to find today.

Lalitha Ram then steered the conversation toward the physical aspects of the Var Tavil. Srinivasan, who currently possesses the knowledge required to construct these instruments, was present on stage and was introduced. The art of making the Var Tavil had been lost for a generation, and Srinivasan played a key role in recreating this tradition. The Var Tavil is constructed using bamboo frames, goat skin, and buffalo leather strips that bind the structure together. These strips are called var, which gives the instrument its name. Over time, however, the instrument evolved for reasons of convenience. The var and the frame began to be made of metal, bamboo was replaced by wood, and eventually even the wooden body was substituted with fiber. Similar changes have occurred in the mridangam as well.

Lalitha Ram shared that he had met the person who initiated the first of these changes. Apparently, that individual later remarked that had he known where these changes would eventually lead, he would never have made that initial modification. Lalitha Ram then played an archival recording, and Sri Govindarajan pointed out the distinctive sounds of the Var Tavil that simply cannot be replicated on present day tavils. In fact, a doctoral thesis has been written on the lost sounds of the Var Tavil, underscoring the magnificence of this instrument. Sri Govindarajan acknowledged the efforts of Swamimalai Saravanan and Lalitha Ram in bringing the Var Tavil back into the performance arena. He dedicated his sixty years of playing the tavil, and all the accolades he has received, to his grounding in the Var Tavil tradition.

In the true spirit of a lecture demonstration, Sri Govindarajan then played on both a contemporary tavil and a Var Tavil, allowing the audience to clearly hear the contrast between the two. Even to my untrained ears, the sound of the Var Tavil was far more mellifluous and soothing. He also demonstrated certain possibilities that are unique to the Var Tavil and not achievable on the modern instrument.

Lalitha Ram has written a far more detailed and authoritative note on the Var Tavil, the link to which I have shared. I strongly encourage readers to read that piece and to listen to this lecture. No amount of writing can truly capture the nuances of the sounds that were demonstrated.

Link to Ram's write up - https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1D53GCVJvt/

The Music Academy Academic Sessions – 16 December 2025 to 1 January 2026

A few years ago, if someone had told me that I would listen to thirty lectures on Karnatik music in a fortnight, I would have labelled them crazy. Yet this year, I managed to do exactly that, and also write about them. The theme of this season, Dikshitar 250, definitely helped me persist.

I have listened to lecture demonstrations delivered outside the music season, and they are typically geared towards a general audience. The lecture series at The Music Academy, however, caters largely to musicologists, performing artists, and serious students of the art. Since I have not formally learnt music, the former category of lectures served as eye openers, revealing what lies beneath the surface of the compositions we casually listen to, and helping me appreciate them more deeply. Beyond the music itself, these lectures helped me notice the prosody, the wordplay, and the melodic nuances that composers have woven into their works. The latter category, however, has always been far beyond my immediate comprehension because of the depth and density of the material presented.

Over the past few years, I have selectively chosen topics that I felt I could relate to and possibly understand better and listened to those lectures. Last year, the topics and presenters formed a more eclectic mix. I had some familiarity with a few of them, while others captivated me completely. I took the opportunity to write about some of those lectures and realised that the act of writing itself significantly improved my understanding.

Despite not knowing Sanskrit, Dikshitar’s compositions have always fascinated me. I love their sheer sound, their rhythmic structure, the use of Prasa, and the way an astonishing amount of information is woven seamlessly into the music, often revealed only after someone explains it. To me, he is the greatest composer ever. Much to my disappointment, I could not be in India when his 250th birth anniversary was celebrated, and I wanted to do something meaningful to participate in those celebrations.

Thanks to The Music Academy’s practice of uploading lecture demonstrations on YouTube the very next day, and encouraged by my experience of writing about them last year, I decided that the best I could do was to listen to every lecture and summarize them based on my own understanding. I hoped that at least a few people at my level might find these summaries useful.

At the outset, I did not fully grasp the commitment this exercise would demand. There were two lectures on most days, and each lecture, including the question and answer session, lasted about ninety minutes. Simply listening to them once took nearly three hours. I often had to listen to sections multiple times to understand them better, take notes, and frame questions to discuss with others later. I frequently paused the lectures to look up unfamiliar terminology, read about the compositions being discussed, and explore related concepts. I find it easier to understand new ideas by comparing them with something I already know, so I often used Tamil grammar and astronomy as anchor points to grasp musical concepts. Finally, I had to write and edit every day so that I could publish one day’s summary before beginning the next.

Fortunately, this series coincided with the holiday season, and I was off work, which freed up my schedule considerably. We were on vacation, and several of these articles were written in airports, on Caribbean beaches, during car rides, and in hotel rooms. I must thank my family for their patience and for letting me carry my laptop along on a holiday. Over time, my enthusiasm rubbed off on them, and they too began listening to a few of the lectures. I should especially mention that my daughter has become a fan of Dikshitar’s genius and of K. Arun Prakash. She also helped me by drawing on her knowledge of Western music while I was trying to understand the lecture on Nottuswarams.

I must admit that as I continued writing and began receiving feedback, my confidence grew. My first post was about five hundred words long, while the piece on R. K. Shriram Kumar’s Kamalamba Navavarnams ran to nearly fifteen hundred words, which is one way I measure that progress. There were questions about why my write ups were uniformly positive and lacked critical commentary. I would like to clarify that I was only attempting to summarize my understanding of each lecture, not review or critique them. I simply do not have the expertise required to do that.

There are several people I would like to thank for their help and encouragement. K. Arun Prakash, despite his busy schedule, took the time to read some of the articles, offer feedback, suggest corrections, and share additional insights that were invaluable in deepening my understanding. Lalitha Ram consistently shared his feedback as well. I even troubled my dear friend Sangita Kalanidhi T. M. Krishna with questions on his lecture and he gave me a patient hearing. Sekar Ganesan, Neela Visweswaran, Hariharan Sankaran, Geetha Prakash, and Mani Prakash read almost all the articles and supported me with their comments.

I would also like to thank V. Sriram, Secretary of The Music Academy, for reading and sharing these articles, and for his words of encouragement. In particular, he mentioned one of my articles during a question and answer session, and referred to me by name. I was thrilled and deeply honoured. Thank you, Sriram. I apologise to friends and various WhatsApp groups for repeatedly sharing article links. I hope it was not too intrusive. My thanks also go to The Music Academy for editing and uploading the lectures so promptly. The decision to display slides in a zoomed in format made them much easier to read.

Congratulations to Dr. Sumithra Vasudev and Dr. Dhinesh Kumar for winning the Best Lecture Demonstration and Outstanding Lecture Demonstration awards respectively. Finally, heartfelt congratulations to R. K. Shriram Kumar on being conferred the Sangita Kalanidhi. It is a privilege to be counted among your friends. Your knowledge, humility, and calmness continue to be a source of inspiration for me.

Some Observations

• Almost every presenter ran out of time. It may be worth considering having one lecture a day instead of two, so that topics can be discussed in greater depth without constant time pressure.

• Given that the allotted time is forty five minutes, it would help if presenters restricted the scope of their talks accordingly, planned content for about forty minutes, and practiced their delivery with that constraint in mind.

• Rather than detailed salutations mentioning several individuals by name, a simple good morning could save a few minutes. The same applies at the end of a lecture, where a brief thank you would suffice.

• Some presentations were largely lectures, while others were primarily demonstrations. It would be good to have a healthy balance of both, so that concepts discussed in the lectures can be clearly understood through demonstrations, and demonstrations can be complemented by adequate contextual and scholarly explanation.

• Several lectures encountered technical issues. A standardized and fixed setup would help, along with a request for presenters to bring their material on a thumb drive or access it from a shared Google folder.

• Those asking questions could consider getting directly to their questions rather than prefacing them with extended praise. Every lecture was described as outstanding or excellent, and while the appreciation is understandable, repeating it at length during the question session is not necessary.

• Finally, Sriram was not as strict with presenters and audience members on time as he has been in the past. I missed the disciplinarian role that he usually plays, which has always helped keep the sessions focused and on schedule.

99th Annual Conference of The Music Academy – Day 15

The first lecture of the day was by Dr. T. R. Aravindhan on the topic “Compositions of Muthuswami Dikshitar in Unpublished Manuscripts”. From the earlier presentations, we already know that the Sangita Sampradaya Pradarshini is the primary source for Dikshitar compositions, and that many more songs have come down to us through other documentation and oral traditions. We have also heard that several compositions, including some very popular ones attributed to Dikshitar, have been shown not to be his, while others continue to have question marks around them. With this context, I was keen to understand the process by which a scholar identifies a source, validates its authenticity, and studies its contents.

Dr. Aravindhan began by defining manuscripts as unpublished notes maintained by musicians primarily for their own use. The first manuscripts he discussed were those of the Tanjore Quartet. Of the many manuscripts that exist, he was able to examine a subset. Even within these, there was a wide variety of material, including compositions of Dikshitar, compositions of the Quartet themselves, and several other musical forms. Among these, there were ninety compositions attributed to Dikshitar. Eighty five of them appear in the Sangita Sampradaya Pradarshini, though with differences in notation and musical treatment. The remaining five formed the scope of his lecture.

He then moved on to the manuscripts of Bharatam Natesa Iyer, Mudikondan Smt. Vijaya, Smt. Champakavalli, and one manuscript believed to belong to Ambi Dikshitar. He explained both the continuities and the divergences in these traditions. The lecture was quite academic and, at times, difficult for me to follow in detail. What I did take away was that these unpublished sources reinforce the idea that Dikshitar continually expanded the boundaries of his creativity.

One particularly interesting point that Dr. Aravindhan raised was about the existence of multiple ragas sharing the same name, each with its own distinct lakshana. He also spoke about the interchangeable use of the names Rudrapriya and Poornashadjam to refer to what appears to be the same raga in certain contexts.This served as an apt lead into the second lecture of the day. 

My professional life involves making many presentations, and I am familiar with the craft of public speaking. I consider T. M. Krishna to be one of the finest presenters and communicators I have heard. Having attended several of his lecture demonstrations in the past, I was looking forward to his presentation. The second lecture of Day 15, by TMK, was titled “Muthuswami Dikshitar’s Rudrapriya – One name, multiple identities”.

This lecture was far beyond my level of comprehension. What I understood, in very broad terms, was that within the Dikshitar tradition there are about half a dozen compositions attributed to the raga Rudrapriya, and that the melodic phrases used in each of these compositions differ significantly from one another. One of these songs, tuned by Subbarama Dikshitar, bears a resemblance to Tyagaraja’s “Sri Manini” in the raga Poornashadjam, raising the possibility that the Tyagaraja composition may have influenced the Rudrapriya kriti. The lecture involved a detailed analysis of similarities and distinctions among several ragas, including Rudrapriya, Poornashadjam, and Kapi.

There was also a discussion on whether compositions with a similar musical flavour might have been grouped together historically and assigned a common raga name. If so, what criteria would define such a grouping? Should Rudrapriya be understood as an umbrella under which several related melodic forms exist, each with its own distinct identity? If that were the case, should ragas that are currently treated as distinct, such as Manjari and Devamritavarshini, be brought under a single collective label? These were some of the thought provoking questions raised during the lecture.

I am attempting to express a highly complex academic discussion in my own lay terms. V. Sriram’s comment helped me visualise what was being discussed. Drawing from his background as a historian, he referred to the term Indo Saracenic, which is used to describe a broad category of architectural styles, even though it includes distinct sub styles such as Hindu and Islamic forms.

In my own mind, I related this to changes in planetary classification. As new discoveries were made, astronomers found the need to introduce a new category called dwarf planets. While newer discoveries such as Haumea and Makemake were added without much controversy, the reclassification of Pluto from a planet to a dwarf planet caused considerable debate. I imagine that the discussions surrounding that decision would have resembled this lecture and the conversations that followed it.

The lecture piqued the interest of the experts in the audience as it was followed by a lively question and answer session with many commenting that the lecture was thought provoking. I can only wish I could understand it better. 

TMK, along with his students Shalini, Vignesh, and Raghavendra, sang several compositions beautifully. Even though much of the theoretical discussion went over my head, I thoroughly enjoyed the musical demonstrations.

With this, the lecture demonstrations themed on Dikshitar and his compositions have concluded. 

99th Annual Conference of The Music Academy – Day 14

The first lecture of Day 14 was presented by Sangita Kalanidhi S. Sowmya on “Bhashanga Ragas as handled by Muthuswami Dikshitar”.

What are Bhashanga ragas? My understanding is that in the current raga classification system, we have Melakarta ragas or parent scales, and Janya ragas or derivatives. In general, Janya ragas use a subset of the notes of the parent scale and are referred to as Upanga ragas. However, when a note that does not belong to the parent scale appears in the Janya raga, it is classified as a Bhashanga raga.

One has to be cautious with the use of the word derivative. It merely indicates the position of a raga within the classification framework. There are many Janya ragas that predate the Melakarta system and are older than the parent ragas under which they are grouped. Therefore, the term does not imply that the Janya ragas evolved from the Melakarta ragas. This precedence could be one reason for the presence of what appears to be a foreign note. Another possibility is the incorporation of ragas from other musical systems, such as Hindustani music. This is my understanding, and it may not be complete.

The science student in Sowmya came to the forefront during her explanation of the terms Grama and Bhasha and their historical evolution. Her lecture felt like time travel as she took us from the fifth century to the present day. Her explanation made it clear that my initial description was a very basic interpretation of the term Bhashanga, and that the concept is far more nuanced. She classified Bhashanga ragas into three groups based on how such changes might have occurred. Throughout this discussion, the Sanskrit scholar in her was clearly on display.

When she moved to musical illustrations, the veena artist in Sowmya came to the fore. She played several examples to highlight the subtle nuances of these ragas. This was followed by a lively question and answer session. One question asked her to define a Bhashanga raga in lay terms. Her response neatly summarised the lecture and went far beyond what I had stated at the beginning.

In his summing up, Shriram praised Sowmya’s multidimensional abilities and added his own perspective to the topic. The moment when the two of them firmly held their ground on the interpretation of a particular phrase in the Brindavanasaranga composition “Soundararajam” was striking. It reflected their depth of knowledge, clarity of understanding, camaraderie, conviction, loyalty to their respective traditions, and mutual respect.

The second lecture of the day was by this year’s Nritya Kalanidhi, Vidushi Urmila Satyanarayanan. She spoke on “Setting Muthuswami Dikshitar Kritis to Dance”, with a focus on the versatility of Dikshitar. It is often said that Dikshitar’s compositions focus more on philosophy, kshetra history, and iconography, and less on overt emotion. I was therefore curious to understand what makes these compositions appealing for dance choreography.

This question was addressed at the outset. Urmila explained that Dikshitar’s compositions lend themselves well to dance. The madhyama kala sections add sparkle, and the stories embedded in the lyrics provide rich material for choreography. She began with a performance to “Sri Maha Ganapatim” in Gaulai, followed by “Anandamruthakarshini” in Amritavarshini.

The English note based nottuswaram “Rama Janardhana” was taken up next. Beginning with the swaras and then transitioning to the lyrics worked especially well for the younger dancers, and the shift to the senior dancers was seamless. Dikshitar had composed “Nee Sati Deivamu” in Sriranjani for the arangetram of his student Kamalam, and this was the next piece performed.

My personal favourite of the demonstration was “Ardhanareeshwaram” in Kumudakriya. The portrayal of the male and female energies was striking, both in the dance and in the orchestral accompaniment. The jatis were rendered with strength for the male aspect and in a gentler tone for the female aspect, adding a distinct dimension to the presentation. Shriram also highlighted this point in his summation.

The final piece was “Suryamurthe” in Sourashtram. Urmila mentioned the challenge of choreographing a composition set to Dhruva tala. It was a joy to see Dikshitar’s lyrics come alive through movement. I enjoyed the performance of the orchestra as much as that of the dancers themselves. The young performers were particularly delightful.

All in all, it was a very satisfying morning.

99th Annual Conference of The Music Academy – Day 13

We have had twelve days of lectures on various aspects of Muthuswami Dikshitar’s life and art. All of them felt like appetizers leading up to the main course that was served today. The lecture on Day 13 was by Sangita Kalanidhi designate Vidwan R.K. Shriram Kumar on “The Kamalamba Navavarana Kritis of Muthuswami Dikshitar”.

If this has not been evident so far, I am deeply drawn to lecture demonstrations in Karnatik music. It does not matter that much of what is discussed is beyond my grasp. Each lecture leaves me with a slightly better understanding than before, and I therefore make it a point to listen to as many as I can. In my experience, there is no one today more knowledgeable in this field than Shriram. He has a remarkable ability to present even the most complex ideas in a simple manner. He weaves a narrative that brings together emotion, philosophy, lyrical beauty, and musical structure in a deeply evocative way. His lectures are never about showcasing his prowess. They come straight from the heart and are free of unnecessary embellishments. I leave every one of his lectures in awe, both of what he speaks and of Shriram himself.

Shriram was, quite understandably, emotional today. At the very beginning, he thanked everyone who had helped him along his musical journey and dedicated the Sangita Kalanidhi award to his musical and spiritual gurus. He recalled that he had once stood on this very stage accompanying his guru, Sangita Kalanidhi D.K. Jayaraman. He also mentioned that Sri J. Vaidyanathan, who played the mridangam today, had shared the stage with him on that occasion as well. The simplicity and humility that Shriram displayed during this speech were striking.

I have heard Shriram speak about the Kamalamba Navavarana kritis many times before. Each time, there is something new to learn and a deeper understanding of what was said earlier. That said, these compositions are highly esoteric and steeped in mysticism. The philosophies and the tantric and mantric elements embedded in them are complex. It would be unfair for me to attempt a detailed exposition. What follows is only an outline of what Shriram spoke about, meant to offer a glimpse to those who may not have had the opportunity to hear this lecture. I may have missed important points or misunderstood certain aspects, and I strongly urge readers to listen to the lecture directly to hear it from the expert himself.

Shriram began by declaring the Kamalamba Navavarana kritis to be the magnum opus of Dikshitar’s oeuvre. Dikshitar was a Srividya upasaka who worshipped the supreme in a feminine form, a tradition that has existed across cultures for centuries. Shriram explained that the divine is essentially an abstract, formless entity, and that this abstraction is brought into form in two ways. The first is a visual representation, the yantra, which remains abstract and is created using geometric patterns known as chakras. The second is the auditory form, which is the mantra.

Thanks to my son, I have developed an interest in astronomy. When Shriram spoke about the Sri Chakra as a representation of Shiva and Shakti, and about the single dot at its centre from which all creation emerges, I was reminded of the concept of gravitational singularity, where space and time are compressed into a single point. I may be entirely off track here, but the parallel intrigued me and left me eager to read more about both these subjects.

What does Navavarana mean? In tradition, certain numbers are associated with specific manifestations of the divine. The number five is associated with Shiva. He is said to have five faces, his mantra is the Panchakshara, and there are the Panchabhuta kshetras associated with him. Shakti is associated with the number three. She is therefore called Tripura, and multiples of three also carry significance. The number nine holds a special place in Devi worship. It is considered all encompassing, much like how adding the digits of any multiple of nine always results in nine.

The worship of the Goddess through the Sri Chakra yantra is known as Navavarana pooja. Avarna means a veil. This form of worship seeks to remove nine veils that surround the soul, one at a time, guiding the practitioner inward until they become one with the Goddess herself. The Sri Chakra consists of nine sub chakras that symbolise this inward journey. Dikshitar composed the Navavarana kritis to describe this mode of worship, incorporating within them everything required to understand it. These compositions are on Kamalamba of Tiruvarur.

At this point, Shriram raised an interesting question. The form worshipped in this tradition is Lalita, whose attributes he then described. While the deity in most temples is essentially a manifestation of this form, the temple that most closely fits this description is that of Kamakshi in Kanchipuram, on whom Dikshitar has composed many other kritis. Yet, this Navavarana set is not dedicated to Kamakshi but to Kamalamba. Shriram explained the fascinating theory behind this choice.

With this context established, Shriram went on to elucidate the music, lyrics, and philosophical underpinnings of each Navavarana composition, beginning with the Dhyana shloka in Todi. Like the Guruguha Vibhakti kritis, the Navavarana kritis are also set across different vibhaktis.

The first kriti is set in Ananda Bhairavi. Instead of beginning with Sri Kamalamba, Dikshitar begins with Kamalamba, in keeping with the Kaadi parampara of Sri Vidya upasakas to which he belonged, in which the syllable Ka has great significance. The second kriti is in Kalyani and is the only one in the set that includes a chittasvara. Dikshitar composed it as a palindromic sequence to symbolise the waxing and waning of the moon in equal measure. The third kriti is set in Shankarabharanam, an apt choice given the prominence of Shiva in this chakra.

The fourth avarana is represented by fourteen triangles in the chakra and signifies Parameshwara. Dikshitar reflects this numerology by composing Sri Vishwanatham Bhajegam as a ragamalika in fourteen ragas and setting it to Ata tala, which has fourteen counts. The kriti for this avarana in this set is Kamalambikayai in Kambhoji.

The fifth avarana is symbolised by ten triangles and represents the role of the guru. As in Sri Nathadi Guruguho, Dikshitar invokes nada to establish this connection. This kriti is set in Bhairavi and uses a tala of ten beats. The sixth avarana is denoted by the ten inner triangles. The kriti Kamalambikayastava is set in Punnagavarali, a raga typically associated with shorter compositions. Dikshitar, however, has given us not one but two expansive and weighty kritis in this raga, one of which is part of the Navavarana set. 

The seventh avarana is represented by eight triangles and is associated with relief from all afflictions, including ignorance. Set in Sahana, this kriti begins with Sri Kamalambikayam. The innermost triangle corresponds to the eighth avarana, where the Goddess proclaims liberation, resonant like the sound of a bell. Dikshitar therefore sets this kriti in the raga Ghanta. In the final avarana, the practitioner becomes one with the Goddess, and Dikshitar employs all the vibhaktis. The raga chosen for this culminating kriti is Ahiri. Shriram spoke at length about the many layers embedded in this composition.

The choice of ragas, the structure of each kriti, the prosody, the placement of lyrical phrases, the seamless unison of musical and poetic beauty, the philosophical depth, and the entire Navavarana pooja process were all explained with extraordinary clarity. This lecture truly demands listening, and I have therefore limited myself to only a few highlights.

In her summing up, Sangita Kalanidhi Bombay Jayashri thanked Shriram for gently leading us from the outermost layer of the Sri Chakra to its centre, removing one veil at a time. She spoke on behalf of everyone present who had experienced this magnificent lecture. She thanked the performers on stage by pointing out that nine voices had sung as one, a detail I had not noticed until she mentioned it. Just as in Dikshitar’s compositions, Shriram too had many subtle layers hidden within the lecture, a realization that dawned on me only then.

Vidwan Ramakrishnan Murthy and Vidushis Amritha Murali, Aishwarya, Bharathi Ramasubban, Arathi, and Archana sang all the kritis beautifully alongside Shriram, with Niranjan and Nanditha providing support on the tambura. Vidwans J. Vaidyanathan and Sandeep Ramachandran accompanied them and blended seamlessly with the voices. Vidushi Aishwarya had also created paintings depicting each of the nine avaranas, which were displayed appropriately as each kriti was rendered.

The program concluded with the mangalam, Sri Kamalambike, in Sri raga, followed by a well deserved standing ovation. I felt both blissful and blessed to have listened to this lecture. Thank you, Shriram, and congratulations once again.