|
Metro Plus
Downpour of melody
|
December 2001 will be best remembered as the Mazhai Mahotsav. While ankle-deep water kept viewers away at sabhas, the rains also ensured that those who did come remained till the end.
|
Lakshmi Knight bore the stamp of her mother's style.
MID-SEASON SAW some desperate dilemmas over lec-dems. Mami asks, "Shall we go to Bhagavatar A's "Millennium Madhyama in Mukhari" or Vidushi B's "Spliced Srutis in Suddhasimantini"?
Mama replies, "Hmm... The lady's explanations are good, but the Bhagavatar's make-up is better."
As sabhas turn into shopping malls, the present-day vidwan competes not only with his peers for attention, but with pressure cookers and coffee makers. An NRI with an overview from the back rows enquired if baldness was mandatory for entry into the sabha hall. Well, this time round it is more alopecia for rasikas. In addition to Varali-or-Vijayasri, they split hair over the size-n-price of microwave-or-blender. Some artistes don't have to worry though. They have "singularly" devoted rasikas; like this woman who refused to stay for Sowmya's concert as she had journeyed all the way from Neelangarai only for Sriram Gangadharan.
In a different league altogether, Yesudas found new entrants among his legions of loyalists after his mid-concert Speech of the Season (Narada Gana Sabha) bemoaning the blindness of those who objected to his temple going. Aren't all Gods One, all religions ditto? After that his chriti on Christu had to be a hit.
Rhetoric is very much in. A friend has developed a passion for Neyveli Santhanagopalan after listening to him talk at the Srinivasa Sastri Hall (Kapali Fine Arts). Yes, you read right, the man TALKED intermittently through the evening, dropping nuggets of information, reflection, animadversion, speculation and what have you. It seems he also remembered to sing movingly in between to pep up the kalakshepam.
Among other things he introduced an enthusiast who had come from Bangalore for Neyveli's concert, whereupon the fan took a bow and spoke about 38 years of listening to the greats. Next Neyveli praised the mridangist (Mannargudi Eashwaran), paid tributes to the violinist's (Mullaivasal Chandramouli) parampara. Later he promised — with hand on mouth — to keep absolutely quiet, but the instant bow was drawn across string, Neyveli again broke into reminiscences and anecdotes. A sample: "Somebody asked my gurunathar why don't Carnatic musicians sing ragas at their allotted hours of day and night like Hindustani artistes do. He replied that our singing is so true and chaste, if we render a dawn raga at night, the sun will rise forthwith. What a privilege to sit behind such an artiste, playing the tambura as he made music!" With that he plunged into a reverential imitation of his "gurunathar" (Seshagopalan, not Lord Muruga, whom Neyveli frequently calls out by the same name in the middle of alapana and kriti). Verbal deluge apart, it seems the singer poured forth his soul in Saveri, gliding into a "Durusuga" of heart stopping beauty. That despite the fact the man's voice threatened to go walkabout.
The rash of poor quality cassettes glutting the market, particularly during the music season, can make even a sweet voice sound hoarse. This year I spotted several Charsur CDs/cassettes with good studio and concert recordings by artistes old and new. The selection is small — the company was launched just three years ago by former radio DJ Charubala and sound engineer Suresh Gopalan.
What makes their recordings different? "We don't hustle or pressure the artistes with limited time slots. They are free to sing or play until they are satisfied that they have done their best," says Charu. "We want the musician to feel good, only then will our product stand out in the market," adds Suresh. Charsur does theme-based CDs like "Ksetra" — compositions on Chidambaram (Sanjay Subrahmanyan), Madurai (Nithyasree Mahadevan) and Srirangam (Aruna Sairam). "Paddhati" has live concerts by D.K.Pattammal and Lalgudi Jayaraman. "Vatsalyam" has Bombay Jayashri singing lullabies in many languages, a boon to tired mothers with bawling "infantry".
But Talattus, whether live or recorded, are no patch on sabha music for guaranteed hypnosis. How else do you explain the relaxed slumbers of two rasikas through the noon concert at the Music Academy in row two and seven? Perhaps that was not sleep but trance, induced by the honeyed phrases from young Mysore. A.Chandan Kumar, who has a promising future as a mesmerist, sorry, I mean of course flautist.
However, sabha ambience can promote diligence as well as dreams. At the Mylapore Fine Arts I could not enjoy Sumitra Vasudev's classy style, nor grumble about her lack of weight in the vocalising, without the nameless Mami whose ever-active knitting needles used to keep a steady two kalai beat to the concert and my commentary. Perhaps she has migrated to Austin or Atlanta to be with grandchildren — recipients of her annual sweater labours through the music season.
This music season spells the end of an era with the passing away of Lakshmi Knight one quiet afternoon, after a painful struggle with cancer. Daughter of the inimitable Balasaraswati, granddaughter of Jayammal whose music still makes veterans sigh in recollection, and great granddaughter of the legendary Veena Dhanammal, Lakshmi took to dancing rather later in life. But having been born into the art she bore proudly the stamp of her mother's style. Those who saw her perform earlier this year were touched by the musicality in every gesture and movement, in the raising of an eyebrow, in the darting of a glance.
A friend disclosed that a little before she died Lakshmi asked her uncle T. Viswanathan to sing `Mayamma,' and enjoyed every note steeped in the splendours of her family heritage. She leaves behind Douglas Knight, her life's partner and mridangam accompanist, as also Aniruddh, whom she trained in Bharatanatyam.
December 2001 will be best remembered as the Mazhai Mahotsav. Though one young dancer regretted that ankle-deep water kept viewers away at the Bharat Kalachar, the rains also ensured that those who did come could not get out till the very end. Another rasika said that Hamsadhvani had shivering performers and rasikas huddled on the same platform. That's chamber music for you. Cool and trendy. At the Narada Gana Sabha, power failure had audiences stumbling out in the dark after Sudha Ragunathan's recital, in search of spouses waiting in the foyer to chauffeur them home. "Make sure you get home with your own husband," was the counsel for the occasion from an unseen source.
Overheard in the very last Vertigo Row at the Music Academy balcony:
Mama: Can't see a thing from here. I want to watch the artistes as they perform. Why can't the sabha arrange larger-than-life camera projection of the concert on the back curtain?
Mami: Do you imagine Jyotika and Rambha are performing on stage? It is only Rajam Iyer and Nedunuri Krishnamurthy. Want them in close-ups?
GOWRI RAMNARAYAN
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Metro Plus
|
