Thetakudi Harihara Vinayakram, fondly known as Vikku Vinayakram, at 76 has eyes that can light up a room, as we spot him alongside his grandson Swaminathan at Avasa, Hyderabad.
In the city of pearls to perform for the Hyderabad Arts Festival, a little ahead of his lunch-time, it is his persistent hunger to conquer more musical heights that warrants your attention. Between each of his replies, he asks if he was lucid enough in his replies that alternate between a healthy mix of Tamil and English. The ghatam legend, a Padma Bhushan and Grammy awardee, Vinayakram gleams with satisfaction, mentioning the 3G connect in his family. Confused? He smartly alerts us about the rare legacy of three generations in his clan performing for concerts at the same time. (His son Selvaganesh and Swaminathan play the kanjira). The man also shows the hardness of his fingers and tells us the importance of a belly to produce certain sounds in a ghatam.
Excerpts from a conversation:
How would you define music?
Music, if I’ve to define it, is importance. There’s concentration that holds primary significance here, you’ve to surrender to it as a form of meditation, forgetting that you are singing or playing an instrument.You’ll experience ultimate bliss only when you consider this as a dyva anugraham.
You mention of bhakti as being a crucial element to a successful performance. Could you elaborate on that?
One does a lot of sadhana before a concert and consider ourselves ready. But what happens on the stage, as we rise over our confusions and worries, is a fruit of our devotion. One of the three instructions we were given as part of the concert hosted during the Grammy Awards ceremony was to pray in the green room before getting onto the stage. I did so, accepting all of this as Almighty’s gift and inherently requesting him/her to forgive the mistakes we make during the concert.
What gives you the energy and drives you to perform at this age?
What I’m today is because of my forefather’s blessings. Consistently investing my time and hard work into my music since my young age is another reason.
Good or bad, whatever you do in the early morning hours stays with you through the day and your life. Starting my day during the ‘brahma muhurtam’ (early hours of the morning) is the reason I still hold the enthusiasm to perform. (For a year, he used to light up the diya everyday in his pooja room and practiced till the light in it was gone).
What do the rewards and honours, both global and national ones, mean to you?
Awards help the artistes stand tall among the public. The jury would have given us the award to encourage us for the hard work we’ve put in. That should work as a push to do even better.
The award and its recipient should complement each other.
The award earns respect only when it gets a worthy recipient.
To cite an example, our eyes well up with pride when we see A.R. Rahman receiving it on a global scale and people recognise his efforts.
For that to happen, music should reach out to its own region, which is when the West will also lap it up.
Did music enter your life organically or because it was also your source of living then?
During my childhood, if one didn’t excel in academics, we were told to make a career in music. My father, a morsing and a mridangam player involuntarily was responsible for my musical urge, helping me understand its essence through the platforms I liked (such as cinema).
It was also a financial necessity for us, given we were a family of six people. The burden felt a little tough for me though appa wouldn’t insist on developing interest in it.
Now, most musicians are academically well-qualified people. Music now is very much part of education. I dropped out of school at eighth grade and had to make that bit of extra effort to understand the mathematical implications in musical rhythms, talas and ragas. I speak English now. I don’t regret my move but will admit education completes a musician.
Can you recall some of your memorable moments playing the ghatam alongside M.S. AmmaSubbulakshmi.
I made several efforts to be a part of MS Amma’s troupe before I began playing the ghatam for her kacheris in 1962. I first boarded a flight because of her for a global UNO concert in 1966. Once, for a concert at the Shanmukhananda Hall, Mumbai, as we were ready to perform, there was a power breakdown. We were informed that power supply would resume only after four hours. While we were left wondering, candles were being lit around the hall that was packed with nearly 5000 rasikas.
What followed was pin drop silence all around and MS Amma’s concert proceeded without a mic. It’s an occasion I still hold close to my heart.
Any noticeable changes in rasikas (audience) are taking in carnatic music over the years?
In the earlier times, the rasikas listened to what we performed. Now, we’ve to strike a resonance with the audience, understand their needs and yet stay true to traditions and musical grammar.
The needs of the crowd have earned significance now. Hyderabad too, over the years has a dedicated audience to music. They understand its nuances well.
Your view on music reality shows on television. shows being the sought-out platforms for budding musicians to chase fame?
Advancement in every field is necessary, so are platforms to extract the right talents in music.
Television is giving them the right space. For those who make it to these shows, they mustn’t consider the few minutes of fame as the end of music and that they’ve conquered everything. It must be their first window to learning.
