‘Neruppu’ was the word used by Suguna Varadachari to refer to a distinctive approach to kalpanaswara singing for which her guru maha vidwan Musiri Subramania Iyer had been famed — an apt descriptor for the late stalwart’s penchant of playing with permutations employing just 3 or 4 consecutive swaras in a deceptively simple manner. “Deceptively being the operative word. It was only when you attempted it that you discovered it was akin to playing with fire,” added the artist. Illustrating her observation was an audio clip of a bewitching Neelambari elaboration by Musiri in ‘Kaana Kann Aayiram’ (Anai Ayya).
Many such examples were cited and played in a guided listening session which left listeners with a deeper insight into the veteran’s art. The programme was organised under the auspices of the Yagnaraman Memorial Trust at the Arkay Convention Centre.
Suguna Varadachari’s discipleship under the maestro began when she joined the Adyar Music College as an 18-year old and continued with a scholarship grant. Along with fellow students, young Suguna would attend three-hour classes daily, with no holidays except when C.V. Narasimhan visited their guru.
A kriti, when taught, would be completed during a single session, but no pen, paper or written material was permitted. Nor could students voice any doubts about sahitya during class hours. The emphasis was on reproducing exactly what Musiri sang and storing it in memory. This way, the students instinctively absorbed the tonal modulations (vallinam-mellinam). “It was only later, as I grew older, that I began realising the depth and subtlety of these nuances. For instance, his handling of the nishadha in Todi, before transiting to the tara sthayi shadja had so many varying shades – plain, a mild quaver, a heavy oscillation. So too, with the gandhara note.”
In concert, he would craft absorbing little patterns in one-avartana swarakalpana rounds and only then proceed to sarvalaghu. No overt kanakkus, yet kanakku was naturally woven into the swara matrix.
Musiri was renowned for signature renditions of such compositions as ‘Tiruvadi Charanam’ (Kamboji). But few rasikas knew that he was equally at home in kritis such as ‘Marubalka’ (Sriranjani), ‘Eppo Varuvaro’ (Jonpuri),’ Varanarada’ (Vijayasri), ‘Meevalla Gunadosha’ (Kapi), ‘Ragasudharasa’ (Andolika), ‘O Rangasayee’ ( Kamboji) and ‘Neerajakshi’ (Hindolam), which carried the stamp of his patanthara distinguished by orderly, disciplined progression of sangathis. ‘Adithu paaduvathu’ was his characteristic that provided grip on sahitya syllables.
While his patanthara of compositions faithfully mirrored what he had learnt from his guru, he was particular about observing grammatical accuracy in the manodharma segments. A clip of ‘Paruvam Parka Nyayama’ (Dhanyasi) recorded with only shruti box accompaniment, revealed moving articulation of bhava-laden sangathis. Here, the vidushi drew attention to how he avoided the use of ‘pnp’ phrasing in niraval, opting instead for the grammatically sound ‘pndp’or ‘sndp’. Again, in Begada, he avoided the ‘srgrsn’ commonly exposited today. For niraval, he would select a suitable line, sometimes an unusual choice such as ‘Dikkevaramma’ in ‘Janani Ninnuvina’ (Ritigowla). The kriti featured a ‘pdns’ dhatu for the ‘Jagamulona’ and ‘Vini Nannu’ matu. Improvisational swirls would elongate only the dheerga aksharas, not the clipped syllables, in sahitya. One of his songs from the film ‘Sant Tukaram’ was played at the close.
