Come December, my distinguished friends from Colombo, the husband, a renowned cardiologist to the President of Sri Lanka, and his wife, the Commissioner General of Inland Revenue (equivalent to the Chief Commissioner of Income Tax in India) would telephone me for the highlights of the year’s Music Season in Chennai. Their top favourites were Mandolin Srinivas, Sudha Raghunathan and Yesudas.
Their choice of Bharathanatyam exponent was Alarmel Valli, whose performance they will never miss, unless it clashed with the Arudra festival in Chidambaram. As a rule, they have breakfast at our modest Mambalam residence that will compulsorily include a cup of hot milk payasam .
In contrast, whenever I visited Colombo, they will throw a gala party in the chandeliered dining hall of their residence that looked like a slice of the British Museum. The dessert would be vattalappam , a succulent, cloying, Sri Lankan coconut custard. Their forte was class in every field, be they artefacts, gourmet food or music.
Face-to-face
However, their lasting interest was the divine music of M.S. Subbulakshmi, the Carnatic virtuoso, the suswaralakshmi . During one such Chennai trip, they expressed a desire to meet that legend, who they revered. Her secretary arranged the meeting at her residence, which was then opposite Valluvar Kottam in Chennai. Before calling on her, the doctor bought a number of her CDs and cassettes from Mylapore. “I will keep these as carefully as I would our passports,” he said.
We were welcomed into the hall by the great lady herself, a metaphor of modesty, standing a measured step behind her husband, well-known as ‘Kalki’ Sadasivam. Her every movement reflected her unfailing devotion to her husband who scouted, nurtured and promoted her into the great lady she became, her stupendous greatness etched memorably in just two euphonious letters, ‘MS’.
She apologised to us in her mellifluous voice for not being able to offer filter coffee, a South Indian must, to the guests; instead was ready-to-serve malli coffee, brewed from coriander seeds. Exhilaratingly, we drank it as if it were her enchanting music synthesised into an elixir by divine alchemy. Right through the meeting, the visitors from Colombo were on cloud nine. Their eyes were riveted on her, as those of devotees, privileged to stand for a few indescribable seconds of climax before Lord Balaji at Tirupati, after the hustle, bustle and the bullying commands of jarugandi right up to the sanctum sanctorum.
Signature style
The Lankan visitors were given a glossy, colourful collection of photographs of her star performances, with brief explanatory write-ups. It was a collector’s item. The doctor wanted her to autograph it. The ethereal MS, who sure had autographed on the hearts of countless music lovers, blushed, demurred for seconds, but gave it to her husband to sign first. The Sri Lankan couple looked at each other, possibly in wonderment at her humility, or was it devotion? ‘Kalki’ Sadasivam, signed with a flourish and gave it back to MS for her turn. Even after that, the great lady, before signing it right under her husband’s signature, looked at him, expectantly for his final approval. She did only after his nod. That was MS!
I told the Lankan couple that even after the accompanists were ready on the dais, their instruments fine-tuned, MS would not begin her invocation song in a concert, until her husband, sitting in the first row, gave his nod.
“That perhaps is akin to a renowned conductor’s wave of the baton,” I added. The couple silently nodded, bowled over by the enchanting MS effect.
jsraghavan@yahoo.com
