The first time that I saw him was in Coimbatore in 1951 at the Ramanavami music festival organised by the late Binny Subba Rao. Papa Venkataramaiah who was supposed to accompany Alathur Brothers did not turn up and the tufted 21-year old Jayaraman was asked to take his place. The other two accompanists being the stalwarts — Palghat Mani on the mridangam and Palani Subbudu on the ganjira — Jayaraman had to sit next to the tambura player without even his name being announced. First impression is the best impression and that is what Jayaraman created. The same confident posture and effortless playing were to continue for the next six decades. (Sept 17 was the maestro’s birth anniversary).
He was quite self-critical and used to review his own concerts. Even minor defects in playing used to frustrate him. He had a self-deprecating sense of humour and mentioned how once he accepted ten rupees as advance for being booked for a concert because in his own words, “As far as eyes could see, I had no other concert!” He was sentimental by nature and there are enough proof of this. Referring to the kriti ‘Muruga, Muruga’ in Saveri, he described to me how Periyasami Thooran had a vision of Lord Muruga and composed this song immediately. Not having any photo of his grandfather, who was believed to have been a disciple of Tyagaraja, he diligently searched for his portrait for several years and finally located it in the Mysore Royal court and proudly displayed it at the Music Academy. When he visited the factory where Stradivarius violins are manufactured, he found that in the room where the wood is stored, music was being played constantly and he believed that this gave these violins a rare musical quality.
Jayaraman was an operational musicologist, i.e. his musicology was not merely theoretical but oriented towards better performance. He used to point out how when Kalyani and Lathangi differed only by one note, omitting the suddha dhaivatham in sancharas for long periods would make Lathangi sound like Kalyani. He would also say that when a bhava-rich phrase of a raga is sung, the ambient raga effect persisted for a small interval during which even a ‘sa’ would sound as if it belonged to the raga. Even if less bhava-rich phrases are sung during this interval, it would not affect the raga’s identity. But before this ‘induction effect’ weakens, another bhava-rich phrase had to be sung. He explained that the seven melas — Hanumathodi, Mayamalavagowla, Mechakalyani, Natabhairavi, Sankarabharanam, Harikhambodi and Kharaharapriya — were the pillars of Carnatic music because they produced more melas by sruthi bhedam than any other mela .
Innovative technique
Jayaraman’s greatness was not entirely due to asura sadhakam. A lot of intelligence was behind it. He innovated a fingering technique, which in his own words totally redefined the violin’s versatility as an accompaniment. The sound quality became so uniform and continuous that one could not notice fingers moving from one string to another. MDR or GNB, the playing could be adjusted to suit any vocal style.
When the maestro passed away, The Hindu carried the headline ‘The violin will sing no more’. And that was precisely what his violin did — virtually singing the kritis with sahitya suddham. Especially in kritis with a cascade of sangatis such as ‘Dharini’ and ‘Naa jeevaadhaaraa’, the clarity and continuity of the sangatis were breathtaking. He was the first to fully exploit the power of modulation and mandhara sthayi on the violin.
Jayaraman redefined tillanas, making them the most looked-forward-to items in a concert, commandeering even Hindustani ragas such as Pahadi and Jog. When I first went to Mohammed Ebrahim & Co. to buy his tillana record and asked for it to be played, the entire staff of the showroom assembled near the record player to listen to the Mohana Kalyani tillana.
He respected other musicians and easily acknowledged their merit. He learnt porutham in kalpanaswaram from GNB and played kritis of Dandapani Desigar and Calcutta Krishnamurthy in his concerts. Though creative to the core, he respected tradition and the contribution of all those who went before him. In his own words, “They laid the foundation and erected the ground floor. I built another floor upon that solid construction.” At the same time, he believed that to say that the best belonged to the past is the surest way to degeneration. His taste in music was catholic and he loved ghazals and Amir Khan’s music. When Bombay Jayashri first went to meet him to become his disciple, she was amazed to find him listening to Michael Jackson.
The ace violinist had what is called karpoora buddhi , i.e. absorbing instantly whatever he heard. He absorbed whatever the vocalist was singing and reproduced it flawlessly. His raga alapana usually consisted of two segments, the first reflecting the vocalist’s style and the second his own. All violinists, including MSG, always ascertained from Alathur Brothers in what talam they were going to sing pallavi. MSG himself said that Lalgudi was the only exception.
Referring to Jayaraman’s mastery over layam, Ramnad Krishnan called him Lalgudi Layaraman! Chowdiah said, “All of us violinists must stop playing now that this boy has appeared.”
The writer is a retired IAS officer
