The venerable maestro with oil massaged into his skimpy tuft is seated on the swing in the verandah, singing an expansive Thodi, as he waits to take his morning bath. A child is working on her sums close by. Suddenly, the singer exclaims, “I simply can’t sing the high notes like your mother!” To his great amusement, the little girl responds matter-of-factly, “Adudaan teriyume!” (Of course, we know that).
The musician was doyen Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer, staying in his equally famous disciple M.S. Subbulakshmi’s home. The girl was Radha (Viswanathan, 1934-2018), Subbulakshmi’s stepdaughter and vocal accompanist from childhood. To Radha, MS was unquestionably the best. To MS, Radha was undoubtedly the dearest.
Radha’s freedom fighter father Sadasivam promoted Gandhian ideals even as he worked in the weekly Ananda Vikatan , produced film classics, and launched the nationalist weekly Kalki with eminent writer Kalki Krishnamurti. When MS moved into his home, it was adoration at first sight for the young woman and the two-year old. They bonded as mother and daughter though Radha’s birth mother Parvati was alive then.
MS was a star with hectic singing and shooting schedules. But she had to have Radha by her side all the time — on film sets, recording studios, concert tours, dinner parties, literary gatherings or political meetings. The child grew up among the musicians, artists, writers, litterateurs, poets, statesmen, scientists and intellectuals who thronged their house.
One day MS noticed that the child sitting beside her on the concert stage was singing every song along with her. That is how almost involuntarily, Radha became her celebrated mother’s vocal accompanist. Decades later, singer D.K. Jayaraman, himself a devoted accompanist to sister DK Pattammal, was to exclaim that Radha was matchless in this role.
Formal training
Radha did get some formal training from T.R. Balasubramaniam, Mayavaram Krishna Iyer and Musiri Subramania Iyer. But mostly she imbibed music by listening to MS. She also learnt with MS, from some of the greatest maestros of her time. Soon MS began to rely on her daughter’s razor sharp intelligence to absorb, polish and present gems from this immensely vast, diverse, multilingual repertoire. Radha won rare praise from formidable T. Brinda for contouring the special gamakas in the padams she taught, while K.V. Narayanaswami was impressed by her karpurabuddhi (intelligence quick as camphor), learning and notating songs at lightning speed. She remained Semmangudi’s favourite. In that era of only aural learning, her phenomenal memory made Radha her mother’s human computer, storing diverse gems for instant and accurate recall at need.
Even in vocal support, Radha revealed skills in every department of concert music. Her raga bore the stamp of an uncompromising tradition. Her kriti rendition and diction in 12 languages were as flawless as her mother’s. Her swaraprastara had zest, where kanakku patterns sparkled discreetly. In their recording of the Bhairavi varnam, Radha effortlessly matched her mother’s swarasthana suddham in incredible speeds. She took the lead in every transition of raga in the chittaiswaras of the magnificent 72 mela raga malika. Many still remember Radha’s astute contributions in pallavi singing, where she took charge of some of the rhythm complexities, winning nods and applause for her witty pratilomam.
Alert and vivacious, Radha excelled in whatever she did. As a child, had she not won viewers’ hearts as little Bharata in the film ‘Sakuntalai?’ And as the singing, dancing and frolicking child in ‘Meera?’ However, she got firmly centrestaged when she and Kalki’s daughter Anandhi, gave Bharatanatyam performances conducted by their guru Vazhuvoor Ramaiah Pillai. This time MS sat on the side and sang for their abhinaya. And Radha became part of Indian cultural history in the genre’s renaissance.
Support to mother
Radha gave up a promising career in Bharatanatyam, just as she had given up schooling at the Good Shepherd’s Convent. Why? To obey her father’s injunction: “Like Bhishma, you must sacrifice your life for your mother!” This became her mantra and mission. Marriage and motherhood could not slacken Radha’s musical and moral support to her mother.
We know how fate reversed the roles. Afflicted by tubercular meningitis in 1982, Radha needed her mother’s devoted care to pull her back from death. MS returned to the stage in 1983, only when she had Radha by her side again, this time with her leg stretched out, back bolstered by pillows. With moist eyes the audience stood up to applaud Radha’s indomitable spirit. The following years saw Radha trying to continue as best she could, though now she needed a caregiver and wheelchair. Her condition got progressively worse, but she never lost her grit and spunk. She continued to come to every concert that she possibly could, though more and more, MS had to assist Radha.
Around this time when I was drawn into accompanying grand aunt MS, Radha encouraged me with a giggle, “Singing with Amma? Easy! All you have to do is never let her guess you’re scared.” With selfless generosity she not only taught me what I needed to know, but also where I had to remain silent!
The first thing people noticed about Radha was her smile — genuine, friendly and impish. She could crack irreverent, pungent jokes. She won every heart in her husband’s huge clan — from die-hard mother-in-law to schoolgirl niece. Her children — Chandrashekhar, Shrinivasan and Lakshmi — adored her and waited for her to tell them stories as only she could.
Radha’s prized possessions? An old book autographed by world celebrities from Linus Pauling and Yehudi Menuhin to Helen Keller and Margaret Thatcher. And her bookshelf with favourite novels, each covered in brown paper, in Tamil, English and Hindi. (She had a Visharad diploma in Hindi).
Those who came to learn music from Radha found in her an affectionate and knowledgeable teacher, with an immaculate patanthara. They were surprised to see how quickly she could assess them. Radha told Navaneet Krishnan that the K.V. Narayanaswami style would suit him more. Later, hearing him sing the kriti ‘Annapurne Visalakshi,’ she called his guru Padma Narayanaswami there and then, to compliment her on her superb teaching.
Zest for life
She never lost her interest in others. Bedridden as she was, she recorded a song for a little grandniece in the U.S. She retained her sense of fun, old-fashioned kindness, her masterful peremptoriness, and endearing bluntness.
Did Radha regret not becoming a soloist in her own right? Not enough to complain. But she thoroughly enjoyed receiving lifetime achievement awards in India and the U.S. At the Cleveland music festival, she stunned everyone by doing abhinaya from her wheelchair. Son Shrinivasan and his wife Geetha strengthened her positive energy, gave rock solid protection. Grooming their daughters Aishwarya and Saundarya in music gave Radha a purpose in life, and the joy of perpetuating her mother's legacy.
As she took her last breath, it must have meant everything to Radha to listen to Aishwarya singing ‘Sriman Narayana,’ remembering her mother’s tender bhakti. For that is what Radha’s life had been: a song of devotion — to family, to music, to God, and to the woman who meant more than the world to her.
