On August 14, 1947 at the Constituent Assembly, a few minutes before Jawaharlal Nehru delivered his Tryst with Destiny speech, Sucheta Kripalani sang ‘Vande Mataram’. It couldn’t have been more fitting that Independence was ushered in with music, for art had played an important role in the freedom struggle. Back in Madras, D.K. Pattammal sang a few songs of Subramania Bharati over the All India Radio.
D.K. Pattammal. | Photo Credit: JOTHI RAMALINGAM B
To artistes of Pattammal’s generation, singing for freedom was a part of life. Theatre was perhaps the first art form to use music as a medium to spread nationalist messages. The songs by Bhaskara Das of Madurai were much in demand in theatre companies and, therefore, were viewed with equal suspicion by the British. Theatre, cinema, and gramophone, all three modes of propagation faced the ire of the administration from time to time. Certain discs were proscribed, scripts of plays needed approval, and when performed often had the police watching, especially when songs were sung. Films were scanned by the censor board for songs and dialogues, and even titles containing nationalist messages.
Madras Lalithangi, mother of M.L. Vasanthakumari. | Photo Credit: The Hindu Archives
Beginning with K.B. Sundarambal, many artistes sang freedom-themed songs and cut discs that became best sellers. Among Carnatic artistes, it was Madras Lalithangi, M.L. Vasanthakumari’s mother, who by recording an elegy on the death of Chitharanjan Das in 1925, began a trend of nationalist songs. Of course, some of Subramania Bharati’s works had already been set to music and were being sung in concerts.
M.S. Subbulakshmi. | Photo Credit: The Hindu Archives
What did the common people sing? Mucchandi Ilakkiyam by A.R. Venkatachalapathy (Kalachuvadu Pathippagam, 2012) takes us into the fascinating world of chap books — cheap publications carrying songs themed on daily happenings. Printed at presses in Madras and Madurai, these were useful tools for propagating news but were looked down upon by the educated, until 1931, that is, when Bhagat Singh was hanged. That event, in distant Lahore touched a chord in Madras Presidency, and song books began coming out in hundreds in praise of the martyr. Thereafter, it was a game of cat and mouse between the police and the publishers, but the latter did survive, chiefly because there was a huge demand. Songs of martyrdom became a genre by itself. Sundarambal’s elegy on the death of Pandit Motilal Nehru was even sung by prospective brides when the groom and his family came for the obligatory once over.
“AMZAD BAGH” the residence of Mr. S. Srinivasa Iyengar, ex-president of the Indian National Congress, was the scene of a brilliant gathering on the occasion of the Garden Party given by Ambujammal to meet Kasturba Gandhi, president of the ladies conference (Mahila Parish). The group shows Srinivasa Iyengar, Sastry and other distinguished ladies in Madras. | Photo Credit: PRESS PHOTO BUREAU
The autobiography of S. Ambujammal, Naan Kanda Bharatham (Srinivasa Gandhi Nilayam, 1971), has passages that highlight the importance of music during public meetings, protest marches and while picketing shops selling foreign goods. She writes of classes being conducted to teach these songs. The seemingly insatiable demand for such verses led to many trying their hand at poetry and composing. One of the most successful was author Vai Mu Kothainayaki. Her biography (Vai Mu Kothainayaki Ammal, by Ira Prema, Sahitya Akademi, 2001) records that she invariably sang at Congress meetings and later released some of them as discs. When imprisoned in 1932, she made sure that each Friday the women prisoners came together and performed bhajans.
Writer, editor, lyricist-composer, freedom fighter Vai Mu Kothainayaki. | Photo Credit: K.V. SRINIVASAN
It was an era when freedom did not just mean the end of British rule. The writers also recognised shackles of other kinds — illiteracy, alcoholism, violence against women, hygiene and civic discipline. Vai Mu Ko wrote songs on these themes as well. Songs of prayer too were written. Mahatma Gandhi’s prayer meetings began with Ram Dhun and the singing of bhajans were vital. It was believed that these inculcated a sense of discipline and a feeling of surrender, which in turn gave the freedom fighters the courage to set forth in their cause. As per the Life of S Satyamurti by P.G. Sundararajan (South Asian Publishers, New Delhi, 1988), when an arrest warrant was issued against the former, musicians crowded at his house and performed non-stop till he was taken away to the prison. It was their way of expressing solidarity with Satyamurti and keeping up his spirit.
Music brought the country together at a time when such unity was needed. Why should an M.S. Subbulakshmi and Dilip Kumar Roy disc of ‘Vande Mataram’ become a pan-India success? Why should Musiri Subramania Iyer’s singing of the plight of Indian indentured labour in far-off lands bring tears in the eyes of people who had never crossed the ocean? Therein lay the power of music. Seventy-five years later, the songs still move us.
The Chennai-based author, a historian, writes on music and culture.
