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Concerted support for Carnatic music

The newspaper has historically been a forum for exchange of ideas and a record of evolving trends in the classical arts, says GOWRI RAMNARAYAN.

AN EXPERTS' EXPERT: P. Sambamurthy

Who could have thought that an exchange of letters in 1894 in an English daily could inspire a definitive text on Indian music? But Subbarama Dikshitar's "Sampradaya Pradarshini'' (1904), the last of the great treatises of Carnatic music, was published as a result of the correspondence in The Hindu between the author and A.M. Chinnaswami Mudaliar ("Oriental Music in European Notation", 1893). The letters also revealed that the Dikshitar family had its own system of parent scales (mela raga).

With such a magnificent beginning, how could The Hindu not continue its close association with Carnatic music? Moreover, the daily's growth coincided with stirring times as nationalism spurred a renaissance in the arts. For many, they were twin pursuits. For Congress leader S. Satyamurti, music is "a cementing factor and the solvent of communal and racial feelings and the promoter of harmony (1926)".

CONCERT WIZARDRY: Ariyakudi

The report of the first music conference of the Indian Fine Arts Society (1933) has C.V. Krishnaswami Aiyar urging that "there are many subjects other than religion which, given a musical garb, are likely to give innocent pleasure and even elevate. In the days to come, many an item of social service and many a combat against social injuries would engage the attention and the energies of our countrymen and women. Their work will be considerably facilitated if they can march to their fight to the strains of a catching (sic) song.''

The old reviews of gramophone `plates' disclose a reverse process: some vidwans used the tunes of popular national songs with political import such as `Pandita Motilal' and `the ditty about Mahatmaji's fast' (not identified) as settings for devotional verses on Muruga or Krishna. Incidentally, The Hindu reviewed records much before it did live concerts.

Early reports were on music conferences all over India. We learn that "Madras played its part well" in a Baroda convention of 1916, where Abraham Pandithar discoursed in Tamil on the srutis, "ably rendered into English by Mr. Srinivasa Iyengar"; Pratab Ramaswami Bhagavatar's paper on Karnatic music was in Sanskrit, and no, we don't know if it was translated. There is an intriguing end: "The last speaker was cheered throughout and when he sat, the State bandmaster (a Russian) observed that he was a wonderful man, humorous and at the same time serious."

Ploughing LONELY FURROWS: T.Brinda &

M. D. Ramanathan

Polemics flamed frequently on the newspaper's pages. In 1919, Clements (I.C.S., Poona) declared that `Hindu music' could not be widely taught until it developed modern scientific theories as Europe had done. Retired sub judge T.A. Ramakrishna Aiyar's retaliation calls upon western scientists Euler, Tartini, Tyndal, Hermholtz et al, the British Premier Balfour, as also a German professor who thunders, "What are Ye, musicians of the laboratory, aiming at with your mathematical muddle?" Aiyar adds, "We are accustomed to rice and milk. We should pause and consider before meat and wine are substituted." Hasn't the war shown how western music, as in Germany, can make "beasts of men" and fit them up for "treasons, spoils and murders"?

Music teacher T.C. Krishnaswami Iyer too reacts to the red rag with bullish fury. "If Mr. Clements cannot understand the old theories, how can he interpret them in the light of science? If Indian music does not please Europeans let them close their ears to it." We stumble upon district judge Clements again in 1928, at his farewell function arranged by the members of the Bar in Ahmednagar. By then Clements had studied `Tanjore rags', and `fully demonstrated in public lectures that Indian music was not only founded on a highly scientific basis, but in many respects it had a distinct superiority over present day music in Europe.'

Continual debate rages over the concept of notating music hitherto orally transmitted. T.A. Ramakrishna Iyer (1921) quotes Lord Mark Kerr at the Gayana Samaj, Poona, who advises Indians to put "all the quaint and melodious airs" he had listened to on paper. For, "without writing, your music can have no place as a science." In the same year, P.G. Sivasankara Sastri (1921) laments that "music lovers are bewildered by the variety of notations now in use," and insists that Indian music would be best served in adapting "staff notation without the stave." Decades later we learn about the notation evolved at the Wesleyan University, which helped prize student Jon to become Higgins Bhagavatar.

Consolidation and conservation were seen as crucial for improving standards at a time when "Karnatic music had sailed far, far away from its old moorings, drifting towards a no-man's land in unknown waters." In 1920, the South Indian Academy of Music, Triplicane, lists defects in contemporary practice, such as `unmusical gymnastics with pallavi and swaram.' Revolutionary ideas follow. The Academy takes "upon itself work which in former years was done at the courts of princes and noblemen, and it is quite in keeping with the spirit of the changing times that such work should now be undertaken by a body of representatives of all classes, and responsible to the public."

The Madras sabhas were copiously covered by The Hindu through the years. The newspaper's columns are invaluable for tracing the history of the premier institution, the Madras Music Academy. Kasturi Srinivasan, a connoisseur of Carnatic music, was among the Academy's founding members.

We learn of the Academy's preliminary meeting ( January 8, 1926), chaired by T.V. Seshagiri Iyer and attended by U. Rama Rao, S. Satyamurti, W. Doraiswamy Iyengar, C.D. Rajaratna Mudaliar, C.R. Srinivasa Iyengar, C. Ramanuja Iyengar, R. Krishnarao Bhonsle, Salla Guruswami Chetty, Sambamurthy and others. Two Europeans, Margaret Cousins and H.A. Popley, were also present.

MATINEE IDOL: G.N.Balasubramaniam

Their deliberations plunge us into the ambience of the past and also show how those old perspectives and arguments have remained virtually unchanged until now: The fall in standards and techniques, the havoc caused by the impact of Hindustani and other systems of music, "the inartistic mixtures and amalgams served at popular concerts"... Elsewhere we find condemnations of `gladiatoral contests' in the guise of music concerts! S. Satyamurti warns that in such an important scheme there should be `no brahmin and non brahmin question' and that `they should all work together.'

Practical support comes with Guruswami Chettiar's offer of his Soundarya Mahal for lectures and classes along with initial funds. A lighter exchange has Sambamurthy blithely declaring that famous musicians would work free for the Academy, and Doraiswamy Iyengar categorically refusing to believe that `musicians will give their service for nothing.'

The claim of uniqueness rivets you in another music conference at Kumbakonam during the mahamakham (a festival that occurs once in 12 years), with Tiger Varadachariar, Muthiah Bhagavatar, Flute Nagaraja Rao, Rajamanickam Pillai, A. Rangaswami Iyengar, Mayavaram Krishna Aiyar and Maharajapuram Viswanatha Aiyar among the participants. Though the town hosts a swadeshi fair, the chairman observes that unlike other "music conferences [which] mostly go with other kinds of national activities, this is really music from centre to circumference". There is news here for feminists: not only have a "number of ladies come to witness the proceedings," but the event is chaired by Alamelu Jayarama Aiyar ("Though belonging to an orthodox brahmin family, her views of life are quite cosmopolitan") who says that women are gaining their rights in music as they are in other departments of national activity. Another woman thanks the men heartily "on behalf of the women of the land for having chosen a member of their sex to preside over the conference, and that too at Kumbakonam, the orthodox centre."

PEOPLE'S CHOICE: Madurai Mani Iyer

Ironic that the rejoicings parallel the disenfranchisement of a whole community of women whose hereditary right to practise an ancient art was denied through the anti-nautch movement, spearheaded by Muthulakshmi Reddi. A meeting in Kalahasti (1927) describes the miserable position of the devadasis and prays the Government to accept Muthulakshmiammal's amendment. It resolves to avoid nautch parties in marriages and on other occasions. A Cuddapah gathering thunders, "These dancing girls did not help devotion or piety in temples but on the other hand, spread immorality and disease." It proposes the abolition of the dancing girls as a caste, dispensing with their services in temples, advocates the granting "on patta the service inam lands which they were now enjoying for temple service." It is fascinating to note the great Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova expressing in Bombay (1928) "her appreciation of nautch dances of India."

The Hindu provided an arena for heavyweight boxing over the nautch issue. Muthulakshmi Reddi campaigned to eradicate prostitution in the name of temple dance. She believed "No art or learning should be cultivated and encouraged at the expense of the health and morality of the individual and race" and that "good women will take to (dance/music) only when the art is dissociated from a life of infamy."

E. Krishna Aiyar's letter (1932) has proved prophetic: "It is easy to destroy a culture, that is a legacy of ages; but not so to build it up. If India can hold up her head proudly even in these degenerate days, it is more on account of her art and culture than by her kings, ministers or legislators. Bharatanatyam is too precious a treasure to be destroyed by the confusion of purpose and methods of over enthusiastic reformers with no proper perspective of Indian life and its amenities."

Trouncing `profitless prudery', G.K. Seshagiri (1933) warns that "the nautch iconoclasts are seriously mistaken if they think they can wipe out prostitution by boycotting dance." The Music Academy passes resolutions to revive the art form; includes two Bharatanatyam performances exhorting the "public of Madras not to miss this opportunity of witnessing true representation of genuine classical Indian dance"; conference president Ponniah Pillai, descendant of the Tanjore Quartet, avers that Bharatam is the source of all music.

The following years witness the devadasis (with notable exceptions) being edged out of the stage, now taken over by "women of culture and virtue." Traditional gurus begin to teach a new class of students individually, or in dance schools. Their performances are reported and reviewed in the newspaper. The need to elevate the art form leads to a search for its mythological roots in the Sanskrit tradition. The Hindu plays its part with longwinded expositions of bhava, raga, tala, nritta and abhinaya by scholars rather than the nattuvanars.

More recent attempts to revive and record the lost tradition have yielded poor results. Reports of 1999 and 2000 from Karnataka confirm the total extinction of the `nautch legacy', while the social problems continue to sprout hydra heads. The accomplished devadasi is replaced by a `pale shadow, no longer artiste but sex worker.' Rehabilitation schemes have been ineffective.

But `Indian dance' had unexpected supporters from the early days. Referring to her own choreography in "A Hindu Wedding", "Radha and Krishna", Anna Pavlova said (1928), "I do not want to show you what I can do with your art, but what you can do yourselves." She was sure that with its beautiful music and rich poetry, India could express her soul through the dance. We know how she inspired Rukmini Devi to take up the art and to establish Kalakshetra, whose activities are reported in The Hindu from then to now.

At the Music Academy, American-born Ragini Devi (mother of Indrani Rehman) takes a sacramental view of the dance as the manifestation of cosmic energy, and regrets its fall in status (1933). She suggests the melding of the elegant Tanjore arts and virile Kathakali to arrive at a new natyasastra. Quaint publicity comes through dabblers such as Margaret Evans who performed "traditional Indian and nautch dances for the first time through television" (BBC) in 1933. Her "Siva" was based on the bronzes of the 10th to 13th centuries at the Colombo museum.

Today, following Rukmini Devi's example, E. Krishna Iyer's crusade, and with artistes such as Kamala on the stage, Bharatanatyam becomes the first classical dance genre to re-form itself for a new age and a new breed of practitioners. The Hindu has followed these developments in the traditional and contemporary dance genres.

AESTHETE SUPREME: Rukmini Devi

The preoccupation with theories, demarcations and definitions was an overriding one in an age when the arts were struggling to establish their identities. A committee in Chidambaram with Sabhesa Iyer as president, set itself up (1930) to "the fixing of the lakshanas of several ragas consistent with the recognised practice of singing them in lakshyam." Lengthy expositions of the structural and technical aspects of Carnatic music by redoubtable scholars and connoisseurs such as Kirtanacharya C.R. Srinivasa Iyengar, T.L. Venkatrama Iyer, S.Y. Krishnaswamy and V. Raghavan appeared in The Hindu's columns.

Sambamurthy was indefatigable in classifying, labelling and codifying every aspect of theory and practice. The Hindu testifies to his meticulous research in all matters — whether technical compositions such as lakshana gitams and prabandams, or the evolution of the Indian musical instruments. He ends an exhaustive lecture on Tyagaraja remarking that "students should not be under the mistaken notion that music was intended only for girls", and exhorts boys to evince greater interest in the subject. His lecture on Syama Sastri too ends on a telling note. Chairman N. Swaminatha Iyer confesses that his "own partiality is towards Tyagayya".

Advocating the inclusion of classical music in school curricula (1923), Sambamurthy declares that the study of Tyagaraja is of as much cultural value as the study of Shakespeare. He allays anxieties by assuring opponents that such university graduates will not automatically score over traditionally trained disciples because "people will always prefer the best musician, whether he is from the university or not."Theorisings are paralleled by pleas to "discuss the problems of music from the standpoint of music rather than the standpoint of history (R. Srinivasan, M.A., 1927)." The writer agrees that it is best to "prevent the deterioration of South Indian music by standardising the ragas." But adds, "Leave it to geniuses to strike out new lines in spite of these standardisations."

There is no dearth of quirkiness, but some of it has its own relevance. In 1938, we get a report of S. Srinivasa Iyengar's presidential address at the Tyagabrahma Bhakajana Sabha, Vasanta Mandapam, Kandaswami temple, George Town. "Lawyers do not ask musicians to preside over their deliberations, but it had become a fashion to invite a man who knew nothing about music, like myself, to preside over musical events. As a body of self-respecting men and women, musicians should conduct their affairs without outside interference, and communal politics."

The old reviews of gramophone records (New Columbia, Saraswati Stores, etc.) are more prescriptive than descriptive. One of them takes off on Natabhairavi, another admonishes Muthiah Bhagavatar for singing his own compositions though Patnam Subramania Iyer, also a composer of merit, preferred to sing Tyagaraja's rather than his own kritis.

Some reviews can be dizzying: "He does not escape the provincial tendency to go after Hindustani ragas and his Bagesri, (I think that it is but a variation of Vagiswari; there is another mela raga in the sixth chakra named Vagadiswari, adorned with the compositions of Sri Tyagayya and Muthuswami Deekshita) is a very honest and arduous attempt to approach the original that we in the south know as Sriranjani."

"The Miracle of Radio", "Conquest of Akash" — These 1938 headlines proclaim the launch of the Madras Station of All India Radio, which replaces the earlier Corporation Radio. In his inaugural address, C. Rajagopalachari, Prime Minister of the Madras Presidency, says, "I am talking to you from a great distance and my voice is slightly spoilt by the very good but not yet perfect instrument through which I am speaking."

Classical musicians realise that radio is not an unmixed blessing, they have to programme their recitals to suit the medium. G.T.S advises them on `how to improve', as their throat clearing exercises in live concerts can take up as much time as an entire concert on the radio. Limited repertoires may be all right for sabhas but disastrous in frequent broadcasts. Musicians suddenly wake up to the need for voice culture. E. Krishna Aiyar gives them guidelines, including a blanket ban on the harmonium "the one instrument in the world guaranteed to deprive even good voices of melody."

MATCHLESS ABHINAYA: Balasaraswati

In the 1940s, the big controversy is over the Tamil Isai movement. Resolutions are passed at its Chidambaram conference to request vidwans and sabhas to give prominence to compositions in Tamil and curtail songs in other languages, and "authorities in charge of radio stations to arrange their programmes intended for the people of Tamilnadu in such a way that Tamil songs predominated." The Hindu's stance in its editorial as well as opinion columns is against what it perceives to be a chauvinistic, regressive move. Tiger Varadachariar's arguments justifying the movement are rejected in a wry editorial note. A flurry of letters supports this perspective.

By the 1950s, The Hindu concert review became a coveted recognition for the artiste. For younger musicians, it was a passport to wider opportunities, initially in their own country, and later in many parts of the world.

As the December music season grew in size, from its modest beginnings of a few concerts in Mylapore to over 2,000 concerts in over 60 sabhas across the metro, The Hindu indefatigably kept pace with it, from curtain raisers to profiles, interviews, seminar summaries, flash reports, photographs, cartoons, tidbits and examination of trends. Extra pages are allotted to include every sabha in its review columns. The paper has refused to trivialise its coverage of the arts. Nor has it ignored other genres whether western classical, jazz, fusion, light, film, rock, pop, or even e-music. Hindustani music has been covered from the days of Abdul Karim Khan.

An unforgettable feature in The Hindu has been the series on music composers from Subbarama Dikshitar to Papanasam Sivan (1969 to 1971), profiled by experts, a galaxy in themselves. Musiri Subramania Iyer writes on Patnam Subrahmanya Iyer, Yoganarasimham on Vasudevacharya, T.L. Venkatrama Iyer on Harikesanallur Muthiah Bhagavatar, Raghavan on Sadasiva Brahmendra, S. Ramanathan on Annamalai Reddiar, Doreswamy Iyengar on Veena Seshanna, Mudicondan Venkatrama Iyer on Ramaswami Sivan...

BACKSTAGE BONHOMIE: M.L.Vasanthakumari, Charumathi Ramachandran, D.K.Pattammal, Sudha Ragunathan, M.S. Subbulakshmi, Sikkil Kunjumani, Jayalakshmi Santhanam

Many of these profiles are based on personal interactions and guru-sishya bonds, carrying a pulse throb despite the old world style. They speak with an authority that we rarely come across in today's milieu. Picturesque details include M.D. Ramanathan describing how `Puliyodarai' Krishnamachariar got his `title' after helping in the kitchen at the Parthasarathy temple, and how he used Begada as a nishada varja raga. T. Sankaran introduces us to Pattabhiramaiah's English javalis, and Dharmapuri Subbarayar's compositions for specific members of the Veena Dhanammal family. We recall T. Viswanathan's own moonlit renderings of "Anname" (Todi) and "Made avar seida vanjanai" (Bhairavi) as we read his account of Ghanam Krishna Aiyar, their composer.

Profiles of stars such as Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar who refashioned the concert format, G.N. Balasubramaniam, Madurai Mani Iyer, M.S. Subbulakshmi, D.K. Pattammal and M.L. Vasanthakumari remain green. Doyen Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer has been a frequent presence in The Hindu's columns. Nor have the great contributions of lesser known pedagogues and musicologists been forgotten.

Today, The Hindu continues to publish interviews and profiles of musicians and dancers as they perform in venues from Toronto to Tokyo, Stockholm to Sydney. It allots considerable space to examine issues raised in the successive decades, whether cutcheri format or corporate sponsorship. It has played, and continues to play, a major role in recording the contemporary history of Indian music and dance.

(The writer is Special Correspondent, The Hindu.)

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