The pristine temple tank, the towering Parthasarathy kovil and the traditional agraharams surround South India’s oldest sabha, that resounded with robust voices and pioneering instrumentalists, who marked the golden chapters of Carnatic music’s history.
Triplicane was a famous address in the city since it housed legends such as M.S. Subbulakshmi and G.N. Balasubramaniam.
Recalls violin wizard T.N. Krishnan, “In 1943, when I came to Madras, I chose to stay at Triplicane. It was the cradle of culture and offered a perfect creative setting. The air was heavy with the aroma of incense sticks and flowers, while the serene, narrow lanes echoed with sounds of music, mantras and temple bells. When you stepped out of the house, you often met musicians or rasikas in one of the many streets, who would engage you in long discussions. I have fond memories of the days spent here.”
It was considered an honour to perform at Parthasarathy Swami Sabha, says Krishnan, whose debut kutcheri there was for the celebrated Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer.
As for rasikas in the city, it was destination Triplicane, on Sundays, when the sabha hosted four-to-six-hour-long concerts. “It would start before rahukalam at 4 p.m. and go on till 10 in the night and the crowd sat through in rapt attention. Since there were no mikes, the audience maintained silence, to listen to these stalwarts,” says M. Krishnamurthy, secretary of the sabha.
His life, like that of the many other young volunteers, revolved totally around the sabha, which was established in 1896 by Manni Tirumalachariar and was initially named Sangeetha Vidwat Sabha.
“Once back from school, I would head straight to the sabha. When I began working, the time besides office hours was spent in organisational activities,” laughs Krishnamurthy. “But becoming a volunteer was not easy. We had to prove our commitment. Before every concert, we had to arrange 1,500 chairs, and post-concert, would fold each and pile them in a truck. A volunteer used to be gradually promoted from the third counter, to the second and then the first, prior to being inducted as a committee member. Till the 1970s, the secretaries were expected to be attired in panchakachams and angavastrams.”
Krishnan remembers how vidwans would climb to the third floor hall of the Hindu High School where the sabha’s programmes were held for some time. Even during the War years (1939-1945), concerts continued to be held during festivals.
Not just kutcheris and harikathas, the sabha was also an important venue for plays, with eminent artistes like Nawab Rajamanickam Pillai and Sivaji Ganesan performing on this platform.
Krishnamurthy, who has been associated with the sabha for nearly five decades, has a long list of anecdotes. He says they take him back in time, when a young team of volunteers went around announcing a kutcheri, or sticking hand-written posters on walls.
It is said when Veena Seshanna was performing at Parthasarathy Swami Sabha, a snake crawled on to the stage and curled up on the strings. Taken up by the sight, a committee member later gifted the veteran artiste a snake hood in silver and Seshanna got it fixed on the instrument.
The late M.G. Ramachandran, an ardent music lover, once walked in for a 6 p.m. concert by Flute Mali, who turned up only at 9 p.m. But MGR waited and sat through the kutcheri that wound up at 1 a.m.
C.N. Annadurai, who was not keeping well for some days, came for the nadaswaram recital of MPN Sethuraman and MPN Ponnuswamy, who played in the superhit Tamil film Thillana Mohanambal . As the Chief Minister walked in, the duo began playing ‘Nalamdhana udalum ullamum nalamdhana’ (a song from the film) and Annadurai shook his head in reply.
M.S. Subbulakshmi, known for her generosity, performed many fund-raising concerts for the sabha. C.P. Ramaswami Aiyar, who came to attend an MS concert, jocularly remarked: “The sabha is rich in tradition, rich in heritage, rich in everything, except resources.”
From the 19th to the 21st Century, the sabha’s journey resembles the contours of a raga, traversing the highs and lows, yet keeping the rhythm of art intact.
