“How do you play it, sir? Will it sound too shrill? What are the threads hanging from its end?” the passers-by quiz C Chandiran. The wind instrument in his hands — a mugaveenai — is creating a buzz. A precursor to naadaswaram , it resembles a normal wind instrument with wooden, multi-coloured tuning chords hanging from it, which Chandiran describes as shivali .
Hailing from Dusi village in Thiruvannamalai district, Chandiran is on his way to perform at a koothu in Sri Perumbudur, with his son. The two have had an exhausting bus journey and have halted at Chennai en route. “We are playing for a ritual related to a death in a family. People dance during the function and perform the koothu ,” says his son, C Kumaran. However tiring the journey is, the 63-year-old musician is ready to bear it, all for the love for his art, practised by very few in his homeland. “No one knows about mugaveenai . I want to earn this instrument the respect it deserves. I am determined about it,” he says.
He agrees to perform for us a piece based on raga Mohanam. “Always remember, mugaveenai can only play middle and upper pitch. Low pitch never works for this instrument.” And,once he starts playing, we realise the implication of this seemingly technical fact. The sound is piercing, its waves break through the confined walls of even a studio space.
Chandiran caught the attention of the thespians in the city, recently, after he performed for A Mangai’s Avvai , which was a deconstruction of the image of the saint. He performed for the play, which transported us to the Sangam era, and the high-pitched sound of the instrument added the right folksy flavour to the production.
Chandiran belongs to the fourth generation of musicians in his family, who has been playing mugaveenai for a living. He recalls tagging along with his father to therukoothu programmes in the village. “Around 50 kilometres from my village, there is a place called Kovil Gramam. My father, Sokkalingam called Chokkan by everyone, was the most sought after mugaveenai artiste there. When others saw me just fiddling with the instrument, they made fun of me. They asked me to keep up with my father’s and grandfather’s name by learning the instrument. They compared me to a blind man who had won a lottery but didn’t know its value.”
However, Chandiran’s two sons, a photographer and a businessman, do not want to follow in their father’s footsteps. The reason? The baggage of caste identity. “We belong to the caste traditionally associated with hairstylists. And, people from this community exclusively play mugaveenai in our part of the town. Hence, the instrument and our music is a caste marker. I do not want to be associated with my caste any more. Because, that has only brought insults and social ostracisation for me,” says Kumaran. However, Chandiran is not so bitter. That’s because his great-grandfathers and he have been able to transcend their identities with their art. “People see us first as an artiste, and then as someone belonging to a community,” he says.
The little wind instrument has taken Chandiran places. He has travelled with P Rajagopal, founder of the Kattaikkuttu Sangam, and his team from Kanchipuram to Holland, Germany and Belgium. Not to forget a trip to Kuwait with Ayappa Nadaga Mandram. Apart from these, he has also journeyed across the country including Pollachi, Kolkata, Tanjore and Mumbai. He also performed at the Pondicherry University.
Chandiran treasures the memories of his experiences of performing in front of stalwarts such as Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan, the legendary flautist, at Kanchipuram Anna Arangam in Kalai Panpaatu Thurai. “He was the chief guest at the cultural festival there. After the show, he came on stage and congratulated me, saying I played beautifully. He asked me my name. I was so nervous that I could not utter a word. I was speechless.” Similarly, actor Nasser too watched him play in Avvai and appreciated his work. So, has Kamal Haasan, in front of whom he performed at the British Embassy.
Among the rest of the mediums, it is theatre that has acknowledged Chandiran’s contributions. He is a frequent performer at the Eyal Isai Nataka Manram. And, people also call him to play the instrument for koothu when someone dies in their house. Apart from these, Chandiran and his instrument do not have many takers today.“ The Government had conferred me with Kalai Nan Mani award in 2013, with a cash prize of ₹7,500. And, the Kattaikkuttu Gurukulam presented me ₹5,000 in 2007.”
Today, Chandiran teaches mugaveenai to 21 students at the Kattaikkuttu Gurukulam. Girls are coming forward to learn too, says Chandiran. “There are no rules in this art form. Any one belonging to any religion and gender can learn this instrument. It has only one language, and that is music.”