Orthodoxy Has Its Benefits Too: Classical Musician

Why is varnam sung customarily at the start? How does faith in god help render compositions better? What makes unusual slowness in a concert ineffective?

A renowned Carnatic exponent took up these points suo motu but subtly (without naming anyone), thus occasionally turning a workshop on the south Indian music system a platform to counter certain recent attacks on its alleged orthodoxy. The venue turned out to be Delhi, which is no less than 2,200 kilometres from Chennai, the present-day hub of the Dravidian classical tradition.

Neyveli R. Santhanagopalan was in the national capital the other day for an evening’s lecture at the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts (IGNCA), where close to a 100 buffs gathered to take lessons from the 53-year-old vocalist always known for his conventional approach. While the maestro from Tamil Nadu gave classes on two notated compositions besides an interactive talk on allied ragas, he suitably wove nuggets into the three-hour programme attended by young and old men as well as women.

For almost eight decades now, norms in Carnatic music prescribe that the katcheri on stage can ideally start with a varnam—the short, multi-speed metric piece that squeezes out the essence of its raga. Of late, there have been instances of playing up the varnam as a detailed centerpiece or even slotting it as a tail-ender.

“Well, your voice becomes pliant if you sing this varnam,” said Santhanagopalan at his lecture-demonstration IGNCA organised on Saturday evening in collaboration with the city’s Shanmukhananda Sangeetha Sabha. “The item may not be in itself carrying a phalashruti, but I can say from my own experience that the tacit punch-line message is that it opens up your throat,” he added, while giving lessons on a rare Kalyani-raga varnam composed by Tiger Varadachariar (1876-1950).

In another instance, more close to revealing the identity of Carnatic vocalist T.M. Krishna—a self-stated atheist—Santhanagopalan, without pointing finger to anyone, asked, “How can you give that passage its core bhava if you are not a believer?” The prime disciple of veteran Madurai T.N. Seshagopalan was delineating a passage from the piece ‘Karunai kadale’ that had its thrust on bhakti to the scale of pleading.

The second varnam (also in eight-beat Adi talam) Santhanagoplan chose to train the assembly that evening was in the lilting Ananda Bhairavi raga. “The introductory part should remind you of the rounded gait of an elephant,” he said, singing the line Panthamela na Sami set by Ponniah Pillai of the early 19th-century Tanjore Quartet. Going on to say that not all ragas were meant to be sung in a sluggish way, he gave a sample of the idea by going for a tanam—an improvisation using repetition of certain syllables—where laggardness could only “blur the beauty” of the raga.

Krishna, 12 years younger to fellow Chennaiite Santhanagopalan, has been experimenting with Carnatic music in loud and open ways in the past half-a-decade—and is today known for his unhurried rendition at concerts that also feature an array of other novelties and altered priorities.

As for the composer of the first varnam he took up at the session, the master came up with an interesting story. Varadachariar, who was honoured with the title of ‘Tiger’ from Mysore king Krishnaraja Wodeyar, never used to pen varnams despite the item’s characteristics of being complex and intricate. “Whenever he was requested to compose a varnam, Tiger would call a disciple or two and tell them to jot down notations that would come to him instantaneously,” recalled Santhanagopalan, quoting nonagenarian vocalist Thanjavur Sankara Iyer, who also learnt north Indian classical music.

Varnams, which also form basic Carnatic lessons, should be taught and imbibed with the voice “biting” the notes, opined the lecturer, a central Sangeet Natak Akademi awardee. “These days, we hear even teachers discounting the need to give force to swaras while singing the varnam. It’s sad. The polish of the throat can be brought later on the stage—if at all, but never soften your modulations while learning the varnams. They are meant to steady your voice and make it sturdy.”

Further, varnams, being notated to perfection and “best devoid of over-embellishment”, may appear to be stale, but that is a fallacy, Santhanagopalan maintained. “This is classical music. Every time you revisit anything in its repertoire, you discover something new.”

Of the seven notes or saptaswaras, the transition from ‘ma’ to ‘pa’ that bridges the poorvangam (first half) with uttarangam (latter part) is the most challenging. “If only you master it, there exists the scope of your progressing with the idiom,” said Santhanagopalan, who also called upon the students to learn “at least the basics” of veena—the string instrument that works as the basis of Carnatic music.

A subsequent session on related melody-types in the system was well-received with questions and clarifications on close-sounding ragas.

On Sunday forenoon, Santhanagopalan and his team rendered at IGNCA the famed pancharatna kritis (five gem-like compositions) of Thygaraja (1767-1847)—one of the greatest Carnatic composers.

The weekend also saw, a couple of hours before the Santhanagopalan session, a Hindustani concert IGNCA hosted at ‘Bhinna Shadja’—a monthly classical music series where artistes present rare ragas. Frontline sitarist Shahid Parvez rendered afternoon tunes Shuddh Sarang, Bhimplasi and Kafi with accompaniment from Akram Khan on the tabla.

(The video is from an earlier performance of the musician.)