Article / Newspaper Reviews / Artist Profile -:- Making Waves Inking History !!!
Bangalore R Ramanath
Body, soul and bhajan
Tomorrow marks the 125th birth anniversary of Papanasam Sivan. His grandson Papanasam Ashok Ramani pays tribute.
The place was Oothu parai, in Thiruva nantha-puram. A young boy had to work longs hours as a cook during Ramanavami celebrations just to support his mother and himself, his father having passed away when he was just seven. His duties included filling eight large water tanks twice a day, assisting in the cooking and serving all those thousands who turned up for lunch and dinner during the fest. But all the while, it was music that enthralled him.
After dinner, the little boy would run to listen to the harikatha performance which was held as part of the festival. It was here that he first heard Manamelkudi Venkatachala Bhagavatar, a harikatha exponent.
That was how Papanasam Sivan began his tryst with classical music, especially bhajan and harikatha.
Born on September 26, 1890, in Polakom, a small village in Thanjavur district, Sivan lived in Thiruvananthapuram between 1899 and 1910. After that, he returned to Tamil Nadu and stayed with his brother in Papanasam. It was around 1912 that he started listening to classical music.
From a ‘mere kirtana-driven devotee,’ Sivan slowly transformed himself into a classical composer.
With no formal lessons whatsoever. For this, the world owes a debt of gratitude to the vidwan, Konerirajapuram Vaidyanatha Iyer, who was a great inspiration to Sivan. My grandfather said he listened to about 50 concerts of Vaidyanatha Iyer, whose Thodi rendition was described by many vidwans in superlatives. So much so, Sivan composed about 20 kritis in the same raga, which were strongly influenced by Iyer’s Thodi.
I remember once my grandfather narrating the following incident to my mother, Rukmini Ramani, “Iyer was singing in Ammangudi once. That day, I was at my aunt’s place in Kumbakonam in connection with my father’s death anniversary. When I learnt that Iyer was singing, I wanted to go. It meant I had to walk seven miles to Ammankudi. By the time I reached the venue, the concert had already begun and I could not go near the stage. However, Iyer saw me and sent someone to bring me to the stage and made me sit with him. During the concert, I noticed two people near the stage talking intermittently. I was annoyed and asked them to remain silent. Iyer turned to them and said (pointing to me), ‘He is intelligent. Now, listen to this kriti of his.’
He then sang ‘Sikkal Meviya’, a kriti of mine in Khambodi.” Thatha said that though he was not destined to get the love and affection of a father, he received it in full measure from his guru.
When Sivan settled down in Madras in 1929, Rukmini Devi Arundale was among the first to recognise his genius. Sivan was closely associated with Kalakshetra, from 1934 to1939. During that time, Rukmini Devi was among his many students, which also included leading musicians such as S. Rajam. Perhaps, this tenure at Kalakshetra inspired Sivan to compose several padavarnams that are now part of the Bharatanatyam repertoire.
My grandfather’s involvement with the film world is well known. The first song he composed was for the film ‘Seetha Kalyanam,’ which was shot at Prabhath Studio, Pune.
He made his acting debut in 1935 with ‘Kusela.’ He wrote Carnatic-based songs for more than 100 films and acted in quite a few such as ‘Kubera Kuchela’, ‘Kusela’ and ‘Thyaga Bhoomi.’ It is no exaggeration to say that my grandfather enjoyed divine grace in all his endeavours. Once after finishing a concert, he and his friends were returning to Mannargudi by bullock cart. It was pitch dark and the route they were taking was notorious for dacoits. And almost every member in the group had quite a bit of gold on their person. As luck would have it, a gang of dacoits with burning torches stopped the group.
They were all petrified, to say the least. At once my grandfather began singing ‘Namarkum Kudiallom Namani Anjom’ loudly. Hearing the song, a few watchmen from nearby groves rushed to the spot and the robbers took to their heels. And the group continued its journey unharmed. Such instances, where help came from unexpected quarters, was proof that Sivan had divine protection all the time.
Ramnad Krishnan had visited my grandfather. When he heard Sivan sing Tyagaraja’s Navarasa Kannada kriti, ‘Ninnu Vina,’ he was spellbound.
The following day, which was Sivaratri, he was leading a bhajan team when Krishnan requested him to render the Navarasa Kannada song.
At once, my grandfather composed ‘Naan Oru Vilayattu Bommaiya’ in the same raga, and Krishnan fell at his feet to receive his blessings.
So overwhelmed was Sivan when he watched the Adhikara Nandi procession of Lord Kapali and other deities that he composed ‘Kaana Kann Kodi Vendum.’ He then went on to compose more than 100 kritis on Kapaleeswaraar and Karpagambal, which he taught to his disciples.
My grandfather will always be remembered for the bhajans he presented all over Tamil Nadu. (‘bhajan’ here refers to devotional music, not group singing.)
At his Mylapore bhajans (during the month of Margazhi), one often saw stalwarts such as Dr. S. Ramanathan, D.K. Jayaraman and Ramnad Krishnan in attendance.
My grandfather would say, “People say body and soul are born together.
But I was born with body, soul and bhajan. The moment I am unable to perform bhajan, I shall cease to exist.” He passed away in 1973, but left behind so many gems in the form of Carnatic kritis and bhajans.”
(The writer, a Carnatic vocalist, is the grandson of Papanasam Sivan.)
My grandfather said that though he was not destined to get the love and affection of a father, he received it in full measure from his guru.
Up close with music
Jayashree Patnekar’s music and persona are not separate – they bear the stamp of her pure self
Iwalk into her room. Simultaneously, a cup of hot tea arrives. “Let’s share this,” she says, pouring some into another cup. “You first enjoy your tea, we can talk later,” she insists, clasping my fingers in a warm familiarity. In her heyday, Jayashree Patnekar’s name was taken with that of Kishori Amonkar. She was among India’s top ranking vocalists before she settled down to marriage, motherhood and other domestic demands that consumed years of hard work and dedication to music. In Bangalore to receive the Mallikarjun Mansur Award instituted by Bangalore Kidney Foundation, this custodian of pristine music embraces you like your aunt from a small town. She sits close, cracks jokes and chats away cheerfully in some Hindi, some Marathi and a smattering of Kannada. She has no whispers, no ‘this is just for you’, no perfume, no silks, no role playing – Jayashree tai presents her life as is. She does it with a faith that seems to say, ‘my life is as ordinary or as special as yours’. But she is, indeed special, and Jayashree tai is oblivious to it. After 35 years, she resumed singing — Jayashree tai hadn’t lost a single note.
“I got married at 35 and went to my husband’s house in Belgaum. I grew up in a small family, my parents, my two brothers and I. But my husband’s family was huge, they were into business. I was so totally lost… unlike today, there was no internet or Whatsapp, not even a phone. I wanted to write a letter to my parents, but didn’t even know their address. I was so homesick. But what was the choice? I felt so lonely. Gradually, I got drawn into the milling domesticity, and music soon disappeared from my life…” It was not that Jayashree tai’s husband’s family was disinterested, but they had no nuanced understanding of music. “‘She can sing,’ they would announce to everyone who came home, but they had no clue about the complexities of music to which I had dedicated a significant part of my life,” she narrates without a trace of sadness. So didn’t she have the urge to sing? “I did. It was haunting my within. But where was the time? No music, nothing….”
Jayashree tai was born in Sawantwadi, on Goa-Maharashtra border, and her father an artiste, loved music. In his own growing up years there was no conducive environment or financial condition to learn. When his little girl displayed such a fine acumen for music, he was too happy to nurture it. “As a young girl I sang anything and everything – film song, bhajan… whatever fell on my ears. We lived in Sawantwadi in Maharashtra. Recognising my interest, my father sent me to a teacher called Vittal Rao Pai. He was basically a harmonium player who used to play at the temple. He initiated me to the basics of music.”
Jayashree tai’s family moved to Mumbai in1957 to join their father who worked at the secretariat and was even associated with the JJ School of Arts. “Admissions for schools had been closed and I was put into an evening school. From my neighbourhood there was no one else going to this school, also it was far off. After a while, I just didn’t feel like going. I told my father, and he didn’t force me to go. ‘Don’t go if you don’t like, do what you like most,’ my father said.” At that point Jayashree tai began learning music from K.D. Jaokar. “We lived in Goregaon and I had to go all the way to Grant Road to his house. I used to take the local train. He had learnt from Abdul Karim Khan and was a Kirana gharana maestro.”
For several years she trained under him, and in 1964, she took part in the AIR competition and bagged the first prize. “Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan maloom hain ? President of India they ... he gave me the prize,” she recalls joyously. Jayashree tai needed advanced lessons and her guru Jaokar himself suggested that she seek another guru. “I had started to give small concerts by then. A family friend who knew the Gwalior maestro Gajanan Rao Joshi brought him over to listen to one of my recitals. He perhaps felt I was worthy of being his student and agreed to teach me. He worked as an advisor in AIR, and everyday after his work, he would come to teach me. It was the best time of my life. I was thinking only about music and nothing else in those years.” Her music lessons went on with exacting rigour and there was not a single day when Jayashree tai did not put in 4-5 hours. She recalls in great detail how she, for hours together listened to each of the masters, and incorporated it into her music. “Chintan and Manan, they were my two mantras. I evolved a style of my own.”
“My first guru taught me the foundation of music, their notes, their position and the other elementary lessons. My second guru was from Kirana school and hence he perfected my sur. As it is known, Kirana emphasises on the purity of swaras and he did a lot of work over it. My third teacher, taught me the importance of laya. This is the real period of my music education when I learnt how difficult music was. How does the bandish take form, how does one render it, what should be one’s approach to laya…. It was all very difficult, he would make me repeat each phrase a 100 times. He worked a lot over my voice and taught me how to give it weight, project it and acquire that resonating quality. There was just music in my life.” Jayashree tai perfected her music under great scholars like Pt. Nivruttibua Sarnaik and went on to become one of the finest exponents of Jaipur-Gwalior-Kirana gayaki.
It must be god’s gift to her – Jayashree tai, even after 35 years of gap, could remember everything like it all happened yesterday. “The grace of my gurus and my hard work perhaps saved me…,” she says holding my hand. Today, Jayashree tai teaches a whole lot of students and is even back to performing. Minutes before the concert, she is rehearsing with her accompanists, showing them the contours of raga Lalitha Gauri. Jayashree tai scurries upto the stage, pulls me along hurriedly saying, “ Kute basa kute basa… ” (Sit close, in Marathi). She sings joyously and is awestruck by the mysteries that open out to her that evening. The audience is equally mesmerised by the 72-year old’s youthful performance – she gets a standing ovation.
My husband’s family was proud that I could sing, but they had no clue about the complexities of music to which I had dedicated a significant part of my life
A feast of melodies
PRAVEEN SHIVASHANKAR
Dhwani, BKF Mallikarjun Mansur Festival brought some remarkable musicians this year
The 12th Dhwani – BKF Pt. Mallikarjun Mansur Music Festival has become a landmark event amongst the music concerts held in Bangalore annually. The two-day event has year on year brought some leading musicians of Hindustani Music from various gharanas. Vocalists and instrumentalists have found a platform to regale the audience of Bangalore with their performances and leave memorable imprints.
This year too, the Dhwani team brought forth a conglomeration of leading and upcoming artists who created a musical aura that draped the JSS auditorium with the gentle shimmer of music that was meditative and divine. The musical treat began on Saturday evening with the flute recital by Pt. Sameer Rao. The first rendition was in Raga Bhimpalasi. Known for its serenity, the raag commands excellent control while meandering through its komal Nishaadh, something that was achieved effortlessly by Sameer. The layers of Bhimpalas are evocative of one’s inner self and offer themselves to the interpretation of the musician. Sameer’s rendition was a revelation. The alap-jod-jhala compositions were relaxed and contemplative set to matta taal of nine beats. This was followed by Raag Bhoopali in Madhyalay and Drut and finally the Drut gat in Raag Mishra Khamaj. Accompaniment by Gurucharan Garud on the tabla was wholesome. The flute recital was followed by a vocal concert by this year’s recipient of the prestigious Mallikarjun Mansur award Vidushi Jayashri Patnekar. It can be said that themore one seeps their soul in the swaras, the inherent divinity within the notes manifests itself through the personality. We have seen these transformations in MSS, Gangubai, and Mallikarjun Mansur. To see Jayashri Patnekar on stage was to view scholarly humility transformed into the figure of the petite and simple artiste. Nevertheless her homely figure couldn’t betray the towering grandeur of her renditions which held the audience in spellbound rapture. Beginning her concert with Raag Lalita Gauri, “Pritam Saiyyan Daras Dikhaja” with intricate alaps and bol-alaps, followed by “mat chalat chedat” in teen taal, Patnekar, regaled the audience with melodic aplomb. Meandering on, looking out for the dear one, the bol-alaps for ‘Saiyyan…Daras Dikhaja..” painted a visual imagery of lovelorn longing for the beloved - an emotion that instantly transformed to the playful banter with Lord Krishna in ‘Mat Chalat Chedat’. The madhyalay composition “Payal Baje” and the dhrut bandish “Natavar ban ban” in Raag Jaijaiwanti were followed by a tarana. Compositions in Raag Sampoorna Malkauns and Gauri were awe-inspiring. In remembrance of her teacher Pt. Gajanan Bua, Vid. Patnekar also sang two of his compositions in Raags Gaud Malhar and Bhairavi. The composition “Sajan mori laagi” in Raag Bhairavi drew the evening to aclose. If the artist herself was a force to reckon with, Pt. Ravindra Yavagal on tabla and Pt. Ravindra Katoti on the harmonium were equally matched – completely in synchronisation in rhythm and mastery. Pt. Katoti’s dexterity on the instrument was a delight for the performer as well as the audience.
The confluence of stalwarts continued on Sunday morning with Pandita Malini Rajurkar’s concert. Starting off with Raag Basant Mukhari, a combination of Raags Bhairav and Bhairavi, Malini Tai’s rendition was soothing and transcendental. The relaxed vilambit alaps brought out the beauty of the Raag in its full glory. Following it up with Raag Yaman, the final rendition was an uplifting bhajan in Raag Bhairavi, “Maa Bhairavi Bhavatarini”. I believe that the manodharma of the singer carries the load of the rendition. This manodharma is one that evolves through intense introspection and meditation with the notes – a Sadhana that unites the singer with the true experience of music. This year, the great vocalists brought forth by Dhwani, were without doubt members of the pantheon of accomplished artists, who through their music took the audience, even if momentarily, into the musical sphere of divinity.
A legend relived
Soumya travelled to Chembai village in Palakkad district in March 2014 to attend a Carnatic music concert by K.J. Yesudas. He was to sing at the Chembai Ekadasi Music Festival. That journey changed her life. A year later, she is ready with a documentary on Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhagavathar, titled ‘Chembai – My Discovery of the Legend.’
The young actor-cum-television anchor still can’t believe that she has actually filmed a documentary on the legendary vocalist. “Listening to Das sir live was a dream come true. It was after I reached the Chembai agraharam for the concert that I realised that it was the centenary year of the event. It was a no-frills event but the ambience was magical and I felt that I ought to document it. I realised I was indebted to the music of Chembai,” she says.
Although she did not have any equipment with her, her iPhone came in handy to record the event. She talked to musicians who sang at the event, interacted with people in the village and music buffs of all ages. “I was fascinated by Chembai the musician and Chembai the person. I learnt that what mattered most for him was passing on his music to as many people as he could. He invested a lot of his time in creating disciples. Caste and religion did not matter to him when it came to teaching music. I listened with disbelief as people talked about his passion for music, his compassion, how he lost his voice and regained it, his bhakti, his last concert…,” says Soumya.
After coming back to Kochi she got together with a group of like-minded friends and shared her thoughts with them. “I felt I had a responsibility towards the musician and his music. So exactly a year later, I went to Chembai with my friends and with all the necessary equipment. We recreated what I saw last year to make the documentary.”
The work is more than a documentary for her, she adds. “I enjoy all genres of music. However, I feel that a majority of youngsters are alienated from classical music. Having worked on this documentary, I have come to realise that Carnatic music is not something beyond the understanding of a layman. One needn’t be a trained musician to enjoy the music. It has something that touches the soul and I hope to take this message to the young generation through my work. I want at least some of them to go to Chembai and soak in the magic of his music. That’s what Chembai wanted,” she says. And Soumya had her moment when the documentary was screened for the people of Chembai village recently. “There are 48 houses in the agraharam and we went to each house, distributed pamphlets about the work and invited them for the screening. The turnout was much more than I had expected. I am happy with their appreciation. It is true that the life and times of Chembai have been documented many times over the years. But this is my attempt to take the greatness of the musician to a generation who knows little about him,” she says.
The documentary is shot in the first-person narrative, with Soumya herself giving the voice over. The 33-minute film has been scripted by Vinu Janardhanan and Manu Chandran. Camera and editing is by Ajai Rahul.
The documentary will be screened in Kochi on September 27.
Athira M.
Direction is Soumya’s first love. She began her work in the visual media as an assistant director in the movie Cinema Company and later worked in films such as Idavappathiand Jawan of Vellimala . She debuted as an actress in David and Goliath . She is now assisting in Krish Kymal’s Ola Peeppi . Soumya also hosts the show ‘Film Lounge’ on Kappa TV.
Be a SERVANT in BODY, a FRIEND in MIND, GOD in HEART and be the SILENCE beyond all these three