Sruti Box - 372

SRUTI BOX - 372 Time to change the kutcheri form? As a keen listener of Carnatic and Hindustani music for over seventy years, I am familiar with the prevailing notion in concert formatting that the one that Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar laid down should be followed and not tampered with. Indisputably, Ariyakudi broke with the then prevalent format of a four to five-hour concert, comprising a varnam, about five kritis and a ragam-tanam-pallavi, with a few major ragas taking up the bulk of the time. He changed this into a three to three- and-a-half -hour plus affair with a couple of major raga delineations and, for the rest, some eight or so madhyama kala renditions and a few light pieces towards the end. Brisk and crisp rendition was his hallmark. Efficient and economic time- management, too. This paddhati caught on and has been, more or less, followed in letter and spirit by latter-day musicians, with the difference that the concert duration has come down to about two to two-and-half hours in the last twenty years or more. This change was necessitated by modern city lifestyles, other diversions and commuting problems. Audiences also seem to have settled down to this format. Of late, though, questions are being raised whether this is the ideal format for bringing out the inherently incandescent majesty of Carnatic music. While purists will recoil at the very idea, the question that needs to be asked is: Is it or is it not possible to devise a different format which will, without sacrificing classicism, bring out the beauty, the bhava and the melodic aspects better? After all, it will be readily conceded that Ariyakudi was, in setting out a new format, breaking with tradition. Traditions are not permanently cast in stone: they are malleable and there should be no objection to devise something new with the aforesaid objectives. At this point, it may be useful to consider whether classical music, which Carnatic music is, is art music or mass entertainment. Carnatic music can never ever hope to become a mass entertainer as, say, film music, or even bhajans or nama sankeertan (based on classical ragas). As with other classical cultural forms like literature, painting, sculpture and many others, there is an ‘elitist’ element in classical music. That is to say, it is not every ear that can appreciate and enjoy classical music. Taste for it has to be cultivated unless, of course, you have inherited music in your genes. And in this, the role of the artist is very important. He has the onerous job not only of practicing his art but also of informing, explaining to, and educating the public. Then, and only then, can there be informed rasikas. And there will be greater participation in Carnatic music concerts. This point is underlined by the phenomenon of mostly elderly persons, who have by attending concerts over the years, acquired a taste for such music. (There are always exceptions: there will, always, be some youngsters who are genuinely interested.) I think there can be no quarrel with the proposition that a four-minute (or less) raga rendition, with a proportionate time for kriti, niraval and swaras (which was the hallmark of Ariyakudi) cannot give an artist the necessary musical space for exploring, experimenting and bringing out the hidden beauties and melody of a raga. It is not only the time spent in production of the appropriate sounds but also the pregnant pauses that make for an aesthetically pleasing rendition. And madhyama kala singing may not, for most of the time, be ideal for this very desirable purpose. What do we look for in a concert? Melody, of course. Proper enunciation and pronunciation of lyrics without mutilating them. And the feeling of saukhyam and santi. A good concert should keep engaging your mind long after you have left the concert hall. In my submission, the Ariyakudi format does not give a musician sufficient time and space for generating such feelings. You miss the intense passion of a Semmangudi as witnessed in his Marubalka or his viruttams (Semmangudi had Ariyakudi as his ‘manaseeka’ guru), the sedate and deeply moving bhava of a K.V. Narayanaswamy (who was the prime disciple of Ariyakudi but, over time, struck out a path uniquely his own) as in Varugalamo ayya or Irakkam varamal ponathenna karanam and many others, or the sonorous vilamba kala of an MDR. So, then, how does a musician programme his concert? He may wish to sing a varnam for a ‘warm-up’. My suggestion is that he should attempt no more than four or five kritis in each of which there should be a detailed raga delineation, an unhurried rendition of the kriti (unless, of course, it is designed by the composer to be rendered in madhyama kala) and a crisp rendering of niraval and swaras. I say crisp because we have seen all too often that these segments have a tendency to become exercises in arithmetic with hardly any addition to the melody department. If the singer plans to have a ragam-tanam-pallavi, he should preferably budget about 40-45 minutes for the purpose and suitably adjust the rest of the programme. Light pieces could be limited to one or two. It is my hope and trust that these suggestions that are made in a constructive spirit be taken in that spirit. G. Sankaran Chennai It is quality that matters The article by P.K. Doraiswamy (Sruti 371) made interesting reading. As a rasika of over 30 years I would like to add my perspective. I have attended well over a dozen “deformatted” concerts of T.M. Krishna in recent times. As a stickler to the varnam to mangalam concert structure, it was initially difficult for me to reconcile to his new pattern (or no format). Once I made peace with the TMK concert paddhati, I began to enjoy his concerts. Was his rendering of Meenalochana any less brilliant in the new format? No, definitely not. In his new avatar, Krishna once began his concert with the Bhairavi swarajati. Unconventional? Yes. Definitely. But it was the best rendering of this piece I have heard over the years. Therefore I have begun to realise that it is not the format but the quality of music that matters. A concert does not beg of a format, it begs of quality. The musician’s integrity is what matters. He or she has to be true to the structure of the music and everything else is secondary. If a musician chooses to render a two-hour RTP in a concert that leaves me on a high at the end, that is what matters to me. Is it constraint, convenience or just conditioning? I think it is plain and simple conditioning. We are conditioned over the years to listen to music in a certain way – the varnam has to be at the beginning, tillana towards the end and things like that. Would rendering of a varnam be less musical if it is rendered in the middle? Why should it be? If we uncondition our minds and attend concerts with an open mind we will begin to experience a new feeling. The format may no longer appear important but the quality of music does. Subramanian Seshadri Chennai Caste and Carnatic music Is Carnatic music casteist? by Radhika Rammohan ( Sruti 371) was excellent. One inter- caste interaction we must note was that of Injikkudi Subramanian who learnt vocal music from T.K. Govinda Rao and Tanjavur Sankara Iyer. This young and great nagaswaram maestro deserves to be awarded the Sangita Kalanidhi. The writer asks, where are the MKTs, KBSs and TMSs of a later period? I wonder why she chose these instead of the fully concertworthy and great Carnatic musicians like Madurai Somu, M.M. Dandapani Desigar and Sirkazhi Govindarajan. On going through the two articles on T.N. Rajarathnam, I wonder why no one thought of switching over to sitting on a chair or stool while playing the nagaswaram, in the transition from the standing to the squatting position for concerts inside a hall. It would give the player more space for moving his instrument. Western instrumentalists perform while sitting on chairs. Of course, the tavil may have to be accommodated in a similar manner if they prefer. Indian violinists are comfortable balancing the violin while squatting on the floor. This is a better posture than the Western one in which the grip is between the chin and the shoulder. I have seen that some violinists have improvised by adding a wooden support so that they can sit erect. Why applaud? During a concert a couple of years ago, T.M. Krishna suggested to the over-enthusiastic audience not to clap. During the rest of the concert there was no clapping except for an occasional breach by one or two. In subsequent concerts, audiences continued with their habit and Krishna seems to have reconciled himself to it. Carnatic music rasikas want to show their appreciation by repeated clapping even when there is nothing out-of the-ordinary. This is particularly jarring when a few begin clapping (and stop if others do not join) when some vocalist stays on a high note for a while. They seem to appreciate the physical endurance. The audience seems restless during a slightly long raga delineation and wants to release some tension by resorting to clapping during the next pause. During extended swara singing many heads begin jerking as if listening to pop music. Hindustani music concerts do not have too many fireworks and so there is less opportunity for clapping.

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