“In those days, girls of Brahmin households were taught music only to sing before prospective grooms. If I think of it now I feel scared,” said Neela Ramgopal, the veteran Carnatic vocalist recalling the times in which she grew up. It was her 80th birthday (May 26) and Neela maami, as she is fondly called by one and all, enthusiastically recollected her musical journey from “not at all being serious” about music to making “music the centre of her life”. Neela maami, surely belies her age with good cheer; as you talk to her you wonder how she achieves that remarkable co-existence of attachment and objectivity. In her it seems as though purpose is never overshadowed by emotion. Like any other woman of her times, Neela maami has gone through the throes of life where nothing could be taken for granted, but not even once, does she make a big deal about it. “It was not difficult. Once I sent off my husband and children to school, all I did was to practise. Three to fours at a stretch, sometimes more,” says Neela maami, in a matter of fact way.
Going back to where she began, “From the way you sang they could find out everything, atleast that is what our elders used to say then. They would see how the girl walked, her vocabulary, the way she conducted herself…. many things. So music was a customary education, and it was always made clear that the purpose was to please the boy’s family! Even to me, it did not mean anything more then.” In her early years, the family lived in Kumbhakonam, but later migrated back to their village Tyagarajapuram. Her father was a landlord and decided to take care of his agricultural lands. Neela, her siblings, and other girls and boys of the village went to Tiruvidaimardur, which used to have a big school. They all travelled to school by train both ways. “Ours was a small village and the train used to stop for two mins. More or less, all the girls from similar families in the village went through life the same way as I did. So it didn’t seem like I was going through anything different.”
In 1950, after her tenth standard, the young Neela remained at home. “There used to be work at home, but after finishing it we were relatively free. Many of my friends had also finished school, and we used to spend a lot of time together after our work. We couldn’t go out because our families were conservative, and the whole village was keeping tabs on us. They would say things like, ‘Why was your daughter standing at the gate? Tell her that it is not allowed…’ However, we played indoor games, chatted with each other and had a lovely time.”
When they lived in Kumbhakonam, the legendary Semmangudi Srinivas Iyer was their neighbour. “I often saw T.M. Thiagarajan, P.S. Narayana Swamy come to him for their lessons. None of his students would sit in his presence. They would all stand with folded hands. I can never forget his long practise sessions. But can you imagine the opportunity I lost! I could have learnt from him but that was never to be….,” she regrets.
Neela maami’s sister got married and soon came her turn. “I was mentally prepared for this major event. Afterall, that’s what they told girls during their growing up years. My husband’s family was very fond of music, and I knew just enough music to impress them. My mother-in-law passed away a year after my marriage, but in that period, whoever came home she would say, ‘please listen to my daughter-in-law and go.’ She was very proud of my music, even when it was very amateur.”
Life went on and Neela maami says she hardly paid any attention to her music, till her visit to Chennai as a young 19-year-old bride. “We went to a relative’s house for Dasara. A lot of women were asked to sing, I too sang. But Meenakshi sang so well that day. Everyone praised her so much. For the first time I felt genuinely sad in my life. I came home and cried to my husband. It was at that moment I resolved to take music seriously.” It was not easy to find a suitable guru in Bangalore in those days. Neela found herself weeping all the time. One day, a family friend, N.M. Narayanan who was a disciple of the great Brinda and Mukta came home. ‘Why are you crying? I will teach you’, he promised. And for the next 15 years, Neela learnt from him. “Every December I went to Chennai for 15 days. My classes would begin at 6 a.m. and it used to be rigorous. The first kriti he taught me was ‘Karubaaru’ in Mukhari….,” Neela maami’s eyes become dreamy. “Oh, how he taught!”
The desire to do something in music was constantly burning within Neela maami. Her guru passed away and she felt a huge void in his absence. She, along with six other women musicians, started an ensemble called Saptaswara. “We used to meet each other at the concerts in Gayana Samaja. Except Seetalakshmi Venkateshan, nobody else in the group was competent to give a solo concert. She was already performing in various cities. We thought as a collective we could do a good job and also hone our own talents. Moreover, this was first of its kind venture, a classical music ensemble by women musicians.”
Neela maami recalls the initial fruitful years and how they attracted a lot of listeners. “They were fascinated by what we achieved in the group, and a lot of people came to see how we dressed too!!” The group had Seethalakshmi Venkateshan, Saraswati Ramachandran, Jambu Kannan, Vishalam Krishnan, Tilaka Sampath, Rajalakshmi Venkataraman, apart from Neela maami herself. “We gave concerts in Chennai and felt ecstatic to have Semmangudi maama and MS for the Krishna Gana Sabha concert. For nearly a decade or more, we performed, but due to internal squabbles the group had to be disbanded.”
Her very first independent concert came in 1965. “I was very happy, but at the same I also felt incompetent after my guru’s demise. People appreciated my music a lot, but from within I felt I needed the guidance of a guru. I had heard of senior musician T.K. Rangachari’s musical prowess, and wanted to learn from him. He had moved to Chennai and I wrote a letter asking him to teach me. He came one week every month to Bangalore, and I learnt from him for nearly two years, after which he passed away.”
Neela maami used to be an avid listener of Kalyana Raman and MLV. She had modelled her music so much on MLV’s that many listeners considered her junior MLV. One morning, the phone in Neela maami’s house rang. “I am Vasantha Kumari speaking,” the voice announced. “My heart skipped a beat!” she remembers. “I have heard that you sing exactly like me. How about accompanying me in my Bangalore concert?” Vasanthakumari asked. “It was such a nice feeling singing with her. I felt I was MLV myself!” laughs Neela maami.
But gradually she developed a strong style of her own. “Gurus are so important to one’s life. These days I feel that there are so many talented musicians, but they do not recognise or touch the core of music….”
Felicitation to Sangita Kala Acharya Vidushi Neela Ramgopal is on the June 20 (Saturday - at the Sri Rama Lalitha Kala Mandira Hall, concert by Madhu Kashyap) and on June 21, Vijay Siva sings at Bangalore Gayana Samaja.
