Sri Palghat Mani Iyer - Reminiscences of my association with him

“ Poornathvam petra oru vidwaanaippatri pesuvatho ezhuthuvatho poornathvatthai adaiyaathu” (Any attempt to write or speak about a Vidwan, whose personality is complete and comprehensive in itself, is bound to be incomplete). A great man wrote these lines while describing some of the virtues of Sri Ariyakkudi Ramanuja Iyengar, in an article contributed to the Tamil magazine kalki which was reproduced in the souvenir published while celebrating the completion of 50 years after the latter’s debut as a carnatic music performer. The writer, Sri Palghat Mani Iyer, was himself worthy of such a compliment. He was and ocean, deep and vast, unfathomable in depth, immeasurable in expanse and full of “gems of purest ray serene”, beyond the ken of the common man and therefore sometimes dubbed as unpredictable. He ruled supreme as the uncrowned king in the carnatic percussion field for over 50 years and left a style distinct and well-developed, for hundreds of to follow. Like the mighty ocean, he had immense capacity to influence the course of any concert in which he took part and make it brilliant, even where the main artiste was not in form. Like the mighty ocean, which, although it encircles the entire land, exhibits different characteristics in different places, which is perceived differently by different persons and which serves diverse purposes, he too was viewed and his actions evaluated variously by different people. Some worshipped him like a God, some attempted to emulate his style in handling the instrument, some his personal styles – hairstyle, dress, gait, habits and mannerisms while some others covertly criticized and vilified him. Sri M.S.Ramaiah, a senior mridangist at Bangalore, was muttering to himself after listening to this great artiste in 1978 at a concert “ Ucchistam - what we are having as knowledge of percussion instrument, consists of the leftovers from this man’s performance. Can we ever learn enough to understand and appreciate him, not to speak of coming anywhere near him in performance!” Yet there were others who covertly despised him, accused him as unorthodox, lacking in consistency of views and even stubborn.
My object in this write-up is only to put down some of the occurrences, anecdotes and observations during my association with this great man, which would afford some glimpses of his personality, his keen intellect, his large-heartedness, his ideals, his vision and perception that impressed me and which have been guiding me as a beacon light in my own life, both official and personal.
One thing which comes uppermost in the reminiscences, is his forthrightness and courage of conviction. I am reminded of two incidents which I had personally witnessed and one or two which had been narrated to me by the Master. It was at the Experts Committee demonstrations during the annual music festivals of the Music Academy at Madras on a Sunday morning in the Sixties. The pandal in the courtyard of the auditorium was packed to capacity and many were standing outside. The session included a demonstration of ‘Jadis’ set to different thaalams by a guest artiste from Andhra Pradesh. The special feature was that he would be indicating the Angams of different Thaalams simultaneously using both the hands, both the feet, the shoulders and the head, while uttering the Jadis. The Thaalams having different maathras, would synchronise after several rounds, at which point, the Jadis would also end. Starting with two different Thaalams counted on two hands, the artiste, demonstrated the feat of oral presentation of Jadis, keeping seven different Thaalams simultaneously. The applause from the audience was spontaneous and many admired the performance. Master, however, stood up and asked the artiste a few pertinent questions. He asked the artiste whether he could indicate the calculations or at least generally state the principles underlying the demonstration. The reply was in the negative. Then he asked the artiste whether he could state any part of the jadis in the three speeds (Thrikaalam). The reply was again in the negative. The next question was whether the artiste could put any portion of the Jadis into a different ‘gathi (nadai)’ like ‘Thisram’ and again this drew blank. Finally, he asked the artiste whether in simple Aadi Thaalam, he could say “Thakadhimi” seven times, followed by a “Thadhikinathom, thus coming to ‘level’ in the fifth round”” Still there was no positive response. Meanwhile, the audience was hurling all sorts of insults against Master. They said that he had no business to question an honoured guest artiste; that it was his uncurbed arrogance which made him do this; that he was unnecessarily teasing and exposing the artiste’s weakness and they even shouted “can you do such a feat?”. We were really worried as to what would happen. Master, however, stood up calmly, raised his voice and said “ I am one with you in appreciating the difficult feat performed by the artiste, but pleases remember that this is a session of the Experts Committee in the music field. Any discussion or demonstration will have to be related to the theory and practice of music. If a performance cannot be explained in terms of these, it may partake of the nature of acrobatics only and, however difficult and novel it may be, this is not the forum to exhibit it. We are entitled to know how far the performer can relate it to the general principles”. I could see the persons who had shouted against Master, acknowledging the correctness of his argument - “ of course, that is true” was all that they said. His perception was different and lofty.
A second occasion was in late 70’s, when I saw his firrnness in sticking to principles. A function had been arranged in memory of Master’s coeval and fellow student under the late Sri Chaatthappuram Subbaier. In the evening, there was a music programme at which percussion support was provided by Master. As usual, it had been announced that there would be no loudspeaker arrangement. The organizers had allowed unrestricted entry of listeners, little realising the consequences. After a very good start, the artiste had got into saint Thyagaraja’s ‘Dinamani vamsa’ in Harikaambhoji The audience had increased in number and as the hall was in a temple complex, there were external disturbances. Audibility of the music was therefore low. There were requests from the audience for provision of a loudspeaker. Master told the organisers to explain to the audience that the kutcheri was announced as a mikeless concert and that if they had patience, in a matter of minutes, their ears would get adjusted to the sound. Still, there were persistent calls for a loudspeaker and it was likely that there would be trouble. Any other person would have yielded and agreed to the provision of loudspeaker which could have been arranged soon. But Master simply asked the veena vidwan to play ‘Mangalam” and concluded the concert, notwithstanding the threats of injury to his person unless the concert was continued with loudspeaker. Of course, nothing untoward happened; usually, nothing untoward happens to one who takes a bold stand on the basis of declared principles.
A lot has been said about his aversion to loudspeakers for the performances in which he took part. A few years before he declared it as his policy to avoid the microphone in his performances, I was with him at one of the concerts in the Egmore Museum Theatre, Madras. That was the time when at Madras, Bharathanatyam and Dramas were holding sway among the music and fine arts sabhas. Light music was also gaining prominence and carnatic music programmes, even by celebrated artistes, did not have as much of an appeal for the audiences as before. To tell the truth, including the artistes on the stage, we were only about 75 persons in the hall for the programme. After the programme, Master told the organizers “ Look, this is going to be the pattern for quite some time. Carnatic music is not going to draw large audience. Why pollute the music with microphone, which will distort the sound and sometimes make it very unpleasant? I am prepared to reduce my rates substantially, if you avoid it during my programmes”.
In later years, he imposed a total ban on mike for his programmes. He had several reasons for this. When I had become sufficiently close to him to discuss these matters, without much of inhibitions, I asked him, whether, in his opinion, mike was responsible for our losing the voice culture technique. The response was quick and emphatic. He said “where is the doubt? It is only that kutthuvelakku – he compared the mike to the traditional oil lamp lit at our worship – which spoils the voice. (Samsayam enna, andha kutthu velakku thaan kedukkarathu). If one wants to strengthen and refine his voice, he should sing at ‘ 2 ½ kattai’ and it should be full-throat, full-volume effort, if possible, in the open, preferably sitting on the terrace of the building”. He had, of course, male singers in his mind while saying this. He also believed that, with fairly good acoustics in the concert hall, the listening power of the audience would substantially improve within minutes and get adjusted to the absence of the mike. After his decision to do away with the mike, he gave scores of performances, accompanying vocal and instrumental music, including mellow ones like veena. .Many of these were in quite large auditoriums and to fully packed audiences. Music lovers did enjoy the performances. He had the knack of ensuring that his handling of the mridangam, never affected the audibility of the rendering by the other artistes and all the time, it embellished these and brought the performances to full-blossomed beauty. I am reminded of a remark by Trichur Sri Sankara Menon, one of the old veteran mridangists of the times of doyens like Kallidaikurichi Sri Vedantha Bhaagavathar. He used to say that a mridangist would pass through four stages before becoming a competent accompanist. According to him, these were “Adi (uncontrolled sound), Idi (muffled, but identifiable pattern of sound) kottu (a fair degree of clarity in sollukkattu, but loud in volume) and Vaayana (clear and appropriate sollukkattu rendered with pleasing and sweet naadam). Practice and nothing but practice would elevate one from stage to stage. Master had practiced endlessly, researched every facet of construction and potential of the instrument, its preparation for use at different types of concerts and handling under all circumstances. He had amply substantiated his views on the supremacy of mikeless concerts and his ability to handle the mridangam in an exceedingly effective manner to support the main artiste, whoever it was. In his hands it was truly a ‘mridu angam’ (soft and sweet instrument), an aspect of this percussion instrument, which, long back, Sri Kunisseri Mani Iyer, who taught me for some time, used to stress. Of course, Master used to bring the effect of a super-fast jet speed or a tempestuous thunderclap to enliven or prop up a slackening tempo or sagging performance of the main artiste. Why should he not have his way?
His respect for traditional values and maintenance of standards was phenomenal. In the article on Sri Ramanuja iyengar, referred to at the beginning, Master wrote “ Melum naadavidyayyil puthithu puthithaaka cheivatharku viseshamaaka onrumillai; Cheithathaye thirumba thirumba thapas pannuvathupola cheithu arul peruvathuthaan mukkiyam enpathu en abhipraayam (further, there is nothing particularly novel to be done (invented) in naada vidya (music). In my opinion, doing the same thing over and over again like doing penance and be blessed, is the important thing).”” That is essence of any branch of fine art. Refinement and adding aesthetic appeal by constant practice should be the aim of any artiste. Fertile imagination and assiduous practice are absolutely necessary.
He knew that perfection was impossible; he was fully aware that one should make allowance for many imponderables and external forces, but he never slackened his efforts towards achievement of perfection. He would never compromise on quality, be it his personal attire, the maintenance and even the general appearance of his instruments or the planning and performance of a kutcheri. He had expressed his immense happiness at the increasing spread of classical South Indian music in recent times. But he lamented the deteriorating standards of practice. It was not as though he was unaware of the problems of the present day students of the art, such as, lack of time, diversions and the need to be well up in general knowledge and awareness of the happenings so as to be able to converse and compete where necessary, with others in the society. More than anything else, he accepted the practical impossibility of taking to music as the sole occupation or profession at least in the initial stages, due to the change in the economic and social scenario. He shared the feeling of some of the old-timers that the role of amateurs in fostering traditional arts would become increasingly prominent in times to come. (I recall a conversation which I had with late Sri Rajamanickam Pillai in 1966, if I remember right, when he was bed-ridden. I had expressed the constraints in practising mridangam due to my touring job and said that all the same, if someone could measure the sincerity and devotion to music, it would probably be found that it existed as much in the amateurs as in the professionals. He said “lakshatthil oru vaartthai” and added that spread of music and its development in times to come will depend solely on the interest and the efforts of general public and notably amateur artistes, as old time samasthanams and princely houses were disintegrating). And yet, Master did feel that practice of Carnatic music - be it vocal or instrumental – had to be more strenuous and well-structured. Complacency and compromises had no place in the development of art, nor did he accept the craze for quick results, abandoning quality. He had once referred to the lack of care in learning or teaching the fingering and formation of sollu in the initial stages. A student must develop awareness of the potentialities of the instrument which he handles and also what type of fingering would bring out the best notes from it. Dedication and concentration were basic necessities. He would say “ take the example of an American learning mridangam. Once he is instructed to keep his thumb hooked to support the forefinger and to keep his middle finger raised to produce a particular sound, he will never forget it. (Master admired their attention to details and emphasis on maintaining quality). But our boys will have to be reminded often; if not, they will allow their fingers to spread out like the legs of a spider”. He would say that if a student approached as a ‘fresher’ or in the early stages, it would be possible to re-set the fingering. But if he had reached the advanced stages, the fingering would have already set and few would have the inclination or patience to practice the ‘paatakkai’ to correct the fingering. The advantages of a little longer practice and attention to the first lessons could not be ignored.
Likewise, he had his own views about music competitions and schemes for selection of candidates for award of scholarships, etc. It was his firm conviction that there should be a minimum standard of performance to be expected from the competitors and awarding of prizes or selection for scholarships should not be on the basis of ‘the best among those who participated.’ He narrated an incident when, as judges on the panel for selecting eligible candidates for scholarship in a very advanced stage of learning of music, himself and the late Sri Alathur Srinivasa Iyer, had boldly expressed their view that none of the participants had the minimum standard required for the award.
His criticism was never destructive. He had a genuine concern for improvement. He had done everything possible to encourage younger artistes by tendering advice, by accompanying them at concerts and guiding them and unreservedly complimenting them when they did well. In this respect, he had no complexes, no airs and never was he casual or half-hearted. In fact, he had looked into all aspects right from the seating arrangements, selection and sequencing of krithis and building their morale and mutual understanding before the performances. I distinctly remember a rather difficult situation which master diffused very beautifully and ensured the conduct of an excellent concert. I had moved over to Bangalore in the last week of August 1976.. Master was to give a performance at a sabha .in October 1976. I met him at his lodgings at 11 a.m. The first thing he mentioned to me on seeing me was that there was a problem and it was even likely that the concert might be cancelled. The sabha had, after some unsavoury experiences, decided that artistes engaged for programmes would be offered a remuneration, which would include the cost of travel, board, lodging and incidental expenses. The sabha would help in booking accommodation, travel tickets, etc. but on no account would they pay the bills for these. It was up to the artistes to pay them. In this particular case, the main artiste had not accepted these terms and had insisted that their remuneration was exclusive of the expenses of travel, stay and incidentals, which the sabha had to meet. There was a stalemate and finally, the sabha had sent a telegram asking the artistes to come, but it had not mentioned anything about the main issue. The artistes had come and they had taken up lodging in the hotel. No representative of the sabha met them at the railway station or at the hotel, though the performance was to commence at 4.15 p.m. The artistes were firm that unless the representatives of the sabha undertook to meet the bills for accommodation and other expenses, they would not perform and they would return to Madras. It had now turned out to be a matter of prestige also.
Master asked me to immediately rush to the sabha office and convince the office-bearers to send a representative to meet the artistes at the hotel and reconcile the differences. It was a question of the prestige and good name of the artistes and the sabha and more than anything else, avoiding disappointment to music lovers from all parts of the city, who would be thronging the auditorium in a few hours. He was a good conciliator. In a matter of minutes, he was able to counsel the parties to settle the differences. The concert got off to a good start as scheduled and drew rounds of applause after applause.
One curious thing I found, when I joined Master at the hall, was that the artistes were seated on a carpet on the floor, abandoning the stage. Master explained that he had suggested this arrangement as he found the platform too high and far away from the audience. His ideas of audience rapport and involvement were excellent.
I was with him when he accompanied Sri Chittibabu at one of the Chamber music sabhas at Madras. The code of conduct for the listeners was very stringent. They were to be in their seats well before the commencement of the concert; they should not clap their hands or make any sound during the performance and they should not also leave the auditorium before the conclusion of the programme. The concert was excellent and the Thani Aavartthanam was in Misra Chaapu.( if I remember right, after the krithi “neethu charanamule”). As usual, the Thani was crisp and colourful, but the audience had to keep silent. Chittibabu applauded loudly and asked “why are you bowing down to restrictions on your freedom to appreciate a masterly effort like this?” and there was a thunderous applause. Master said that in our system, the artiste expected open expression of encouragement and appreciation. In this he drew a comparison with western audience which is ‘ very polite, disciplined and respectful, but which reserves its applause till the completion of a piece or sometimes, the entire concert’. He narrated his own experience in England, where he was given due respect and standing ovation after his performance. He said it was all very good, but he really missed the visual and audible expression of appreciation during a raga exposition or a sangathi or good swaraprasthaaram or Thani, which he was used to, back home. It must be recalled that he accepted very few engagements abroad.
Master used to say that normally, a good part of our audience for a concert comprise those who ‘love’ music than those who know the intricacies. A good artiste should, therefore, take note of this important aspect while choosing and sequencing the compositions, making a balanced time allocation and setting the ‘kaala pramaanam’ etc. in such a way that there would be a number of popularly known compositions in different tempos, ‘madhyama kaalam’ being given predominance. There should be some portion set apart to cater to the tastes and expectations of scholars and intricate aspects should definitely find a place so that the depth of knowledge of the artiste and skills in presentation are understood and appreciated. These will provide guidance to the younger aspirants in the field. He also used to emphasise the need for proper understanding and co-ordination among the performers to avoid ‘virasam’.(discord). After all, as far as the listeners are concerned, while they would expect each individual artiste to give his best, their main desire would be to get a full, satisfying and memorable kutchery, as a co-operative effort of the entire team.. Master did really take pains to achieve this objective. Generally, his own ‘Thani’ used to be brief, weaving colourful rhythmic patterns with adjustments of pleasing variations of sound and resonance. Complex technical aspects were also masterfully ingrained to make the performance delectable, dignified and weighty without being ponderous or procrastinating.

Reflecting on my association with him, a flood of episodes comes to my mind. It is difficult to record them in detail, but I would like to narrate a few more.
Once, after a performance I was taking him back to the hotel. He asked me whether I was finding enough opportunities to perform in kutcheries. I told him that I was new to the place and therefore, apart from the A.I.R programmes, there were not many opportunities. I added that there was some resistance to new entrants, especially to those from a different State. He patted my back and said “music field has never been free from politics. God has given you a good job and position and therefore you can afford to treat mridangam purely as a hobby. Do not compete with professionals who have to contend with several problems. For them, Ethics and fair-play may not be compatible with survival and success. Times and values have changed. Spontaneous respect, which the old-time vidwan received from disciples and patrons may no longer be available to the professional of the future, as a matter of course. Everything will be governed by contractual relationship rather than sentiments. Continue to practice with devotion and be of assistance when a request is made to you for a performance, keeping in view the dignity of the art. Then no one will feel that you are usurping his chance”. What a rational way of looking at the somewhat unhealthy competition and the preference-prejudice feelings which do rear their heads quite often in this field!! Incidentally, when I prostrated before him, when I met him first, he blessed me “to rise to a high position in my office” and advised me to give priority to studies related to my career and also be a good mridangist, without affecting the career prospects. .
Master’s outlook to even commonplace things too was very logical. Once, at the railway station, I stooped to pick up the mridangam and his luggage from the car boot. He stopped me and said “look, there are enough number of porters who eke out their living by doing this job. If we do not employ them, they will have to get their livelihood by other methods, which may not be strictly healthy. Once they are successful in those methods, they will be harmful to the society. Why not employ them and pay them their just wages?” He was liberal but not lavish in remunerating persons who worked for him and they were fully satisfied and grateful. He would not, however, hesitate to pull up anyone if the work was slipshod or half-hearted. I had occasion to study ‘Maxims of Chanakya’, a compilation of Chanakya’s principles by Sri V.K.Subramaniam. In the chapter on ‘Causes of discontent’, denial of payment of one’s legitimate dues is mentioned as the first cause of discontent. Great minds think alike! I do not think Master would have been less of an administrator, had he chosen to enter that field.
A trivial but significant aspect also comes to my mind. He used to love to give tips to the hotel staff and menials in crisp notes. He used to ask me to get fresh notes of Rupee One denomination for this purpose. Before I could hand over the bundles to him, he would insist on his paying me the value in denomination of hundred rupee notes. There was no question of his taking obligation.
Master knew the art of managing finance well. He was one of the few old-time professional artistes, who earned well by hard and intelligent effort, spent judiciously blending considerations of utility, dignity, simplicity and consistency and invested wisely. Long before the average public knew it, he had understood the implications of tax-saving incentives and he had availed of the schemes for tax planning. He had a quick and clear grasp of any subject of general interest. He would never skip his reading of a standard newspaper. I remember an occasion when he had to take the commuted value of some annuity certificates in which he had invested. I was present when he discussed the implications and procedural aspects with the officials concerned. After about five minutes with them, he had mastered all the aspects.
He was fully aware of the ways of the world and he was pragmatic to the core. Once a dynamic office-bearer of an organization, who was very well known in the music circles, lost his position due to the efforts of an opposition group. He asked me whether I was aware of it and how it happened and I explained it to the best of my knowledge. However, within a matter of months, the organization started languishing and the general body voted him back to position. At the next opportunity, I passed on the information .to Master. He had a hearty laugh. Then he said that he had expected it.. He said “ you know, the really aggressive go-getter, will have to bull-doze obstacles sometimes. He may not break the law, but will not have much of regard for procedures, which can often cause serious delays and frustration and he is also not likely to follow the democratic principles always. But the organization will flourish. The same thing is true of those whom we employ for our personal work. The easiest way is to wink at the faults of such persons, unless they are likely to be serious or done with bad intention, causing loss or hurt to others.”
Master had his own unique and fascinating way of putting across his ideas. One evening I had gone to him at the common room of Woodlands Hotel at Madras. His second son was also there. A very interesting piece of conversation took place regarding the son’s job at Karaikudi (if my memory is correct). Master asked his son about the job, the date of joining, etc. and then he enquired “ so, how much will you be getting as salary?”
Son: “about Rs.250/-“
Master: “ so you keep Rs.100/- and send me Rs.150/-. Is it not so?”
Son : “How can it be? I will not be able to live there with just
Rs.100/-“
Master: “Alright. Then you keep Rs.150/- and send me Rs.100/- What do
you say?”
For Master, these were very insignificant figures, considering his affluence and the remuneration that he was receiving for his performances. It was not that Master wanted his son’s monthly remittance; that was part of his strategy of teaching his son to inculcate the habit of thrift.
There was nothing slipshod, nothing which would not reflect his characteristic care for details and dignity, about him. Even a simple and small action of ;his would be indicative of his planning and perfection. For some time, he had to take a number of tablets in different combinations at different times of the day. He had organized it wonderfully well. He had a plastic container with a number of compartments for the tablets. He had very clearly marked the time at which each had to taken and he also; had a beautiful pair of small scissors to remove tablets from the aluminium foils.
He had a keen time sense and he would never linger in the concert hall or place of work after his job was over. In fact, even before the conclusion of the concerts, often, he would have dispatched one of his disciples sitting behind him on the dais, to fetch a taxi for his going from the concert hall. Some of his fans used to notice this and they used to say “Mani Iyer has sent his disciple to get a taxi. The concert is about to end.”
There was a unique greatness in everything about him and one great musician had, while speaking about him, punned using his name ‘Mani’, meaning “jewel’, ‘time, ‘money’ ‘beauty’(as in ‘mani-maniyaana ezhutthu’), ‘best’, or ‘adept’ (as in Gaayakamani’ or ‘Thiruppukazhmani’)
His circle of friends was not unduly wide. He would scrupulously avoid taking favours from others. As a professional, he had to move with thousands of persons and yet, he knew exactly who should be close to him; and who should be kept at a distance. There were few errors in his judgment of persons. He believed in trusting and delegating work to his chosen disciples and servants or friends and would generally leave them to do their job unless they sought his instructions. In the unfortunate event of
of anyone proving untrustworthy, he would not get unduly perturbed, but quietly keep him away. For him, the world was large enough for people who could not see ‘eye-to –eye with each other’, to remain apart. Not that he would be unreasonable or refuse to patch up where an earlier misunderstanding could be resolved. The manner in which he accepted and appreciated the efforts of some mutual friends who brought about a rapprochement between the late Chembai Sri Vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar and himself after a few years of drifting apart, would abundantly illustrate that he had no grudge or sustained ill-will towards anyone.
His appreciation of the greatness in other artistes was unreserved and healthy, though he never believed in outward show or exhibitionism. His brief, but splendid write-up on Ariyakudi Sri Ramanuja Iyengar amply brought out his admiration for that vidwaan. Likewise, he felt genuinely sad when several doyens like Alathur Sri Subbaier passed away. I distinctly remember the way he spoke about Kumbakonam Sri Rajamanickam Pillai , in the condolence session, broadcast by the All India Radio.
He said in a grief-stricken voice “Pillaiwal and myself had participated in innumerable performances over more than thirty years and, seated face to face with each other on the dais, we had such excellent rapport that I shall miss him very much. Many of the old veterans have disappeared from the field and, with them, the traditional pattern of rendering is also slowly disappearing; I am left standing as a mendicant yearning for good, old-time music (“Sangeetha Bhikshukanaaka Nirkiren). I recall a concert of Thitte Krishna Iyengar, a very senior vidwaan hailing from Karnataka State, at Bangalore, at which Master provided mridangam accompaniment. Krishna Iyengar sang a pallavi and it was evident from the beginning that Master enjoyed it thoroughly. At the end, Master announced “Pazhaiya kaalatthu pallavi” ( a very old pallavi).
Even Master’s reprimands used to be subtle, but they were very effective. He would not waste words and not a single word would be inappropriate. One there was a mild communication gap between us. This was sometime in 1978 or 79. He was to take part in a kutcheri. I had received him at the station and put him in his hotel. There were some other artistes, and one of them, my namesake, was very keen that Master should visit his residence. When finally the programme was settled, Master said “Krishnamoorthy Iyer will take me there by about a 4.15 p.m.” I was not used to the suffix ‘Iyer’ to my name and therefore, it never occurred to me that Master had meant that I should take him in my car. I had presumed that he had referred to the other gentleman. However, around 4 p.m, I had a feeling that probably I would also be required and I immediately rushed to the hotel. It appears that Master had been waiting for me and had just left. So later I told him that I missed him by a couple of minutes. He asked “you usually keep your watch advanced by a few minutes, is it not so? Hereafter you keep it slow by a few minutes so that you may involuntarily start in advance especially when you are pre-occupied with many things as you will sub-consciously be worried about your watch being slow.”
Masster scrupulously observed etiquettes. He provided mridangam accompaniment to Smt. D.K.pattammal at a concert at Nijaguna kalyana Matapam at Bangalore. They were teamed together, after a long time, at this performance.. She had asked her daughter-in-law (Master’s daughter) to sing along with her. Smt Pattammal mentioned this to Master just before the commencement of the programme. Master said “oh yes, once I have entrusted her to your care, I know that you will mould her wonderfully well”. The performance was excellent. Some of the pieces, notably “ eego nammaswami” in Manirangu, “Seetha vara sangeetha gnaanamu” in Devagaandhaari and a pallavi in khanda nadai, were outstanding. Smt. Sivakumar gave very good support to her mother-in-law. After the performance, Master complimented Pattammal on the excellent performance. He never said anything to his daughter about her part in the programme, nor did he mention it to Smt.Pattammal. An ordinary person would have praised his daughter. Later, when I was driving him back to the hotel, I mentioned to him that Smt.Sivakumar had risen up to the occasion and sung well. His comment was “Yes, it was a pleasant surprise, especially because of the difference in the basic “Sruti” and the very chaste style of rendering which Smt.Pattammal follows. She has taken great pains to teach Lalitha.””
There are many, many such examples of his noble qualities.
My last association with him was in 1979. I was under orders of transfer to a place where chances of his visits were remote. Therefore, when an occasion arose for me to be with him before my departure to the new place, I spent as much time as possible in his company. After his kutcheri, I had accompanied him to the station. Unfortunately, that day, at Bangalore city station, the departure platform for his train had been changed from No.1 to No. 4. We had to walk through the sub-way. At the head of the steps for climbing down, he paused and said “ I can walk some distance on level ground, but climbing steps is a problem.” Then he added” the body has become quite weak. Only the fingers have retained their strength. If somebody puts me on the stage, I can go on playing”. It was a statement which I could never have expected from him. Tears welled up in my eyes. He had an iron will and an indomitable spirit. It was not in his nature to admit of physical fatigue or weakness. His was a life full of tough challenges boldly and successfully met. (As a matter of fact, he was reported to have kept several mridangams in trim condition ready for concerts, even at the time of his demise). Instinctively, I knew that I was seeing him for the last time. The ironical part of it was that, for a couple of days, I was at Ernakulam, where he was hospitalized and finally passed away. Had I known about it, I could have visited him. I knew of his demise only when I saw the newspapers later.
I have no claim or competence to be Master’s Boswell. He started hils career before I was born. My knowledge of music is too shallow and there were too many fine aspects in his performance which baffled me. As Sri S.Y.Krishnaswami had stated in his memoirs after Master’s demise, Master started at the top and stayed there for over five decades. There are many who know him much better than me and were closer to him. All that I had in mind, when I started recording my reminiscences, was the desire that glimpses of the multifaceted personality of this truly great Master, should be available to my children and their contemporaries, who did not have any occasion to see him as a man and a maestro, although they can view and listen to his recorded performances. For myself, this serves as a faithful remembrancer of a Divinely gifted person at whose feet I shall ever remain a devotee.
Sri P.K.Ramakrishnan, who was always with Master for over two decades as a disciple in the Gurukula parampara, used to pray that if ever he was reborn on this earth, he should have opportunity to serve this Master, birth after birth. I remember him also at this juncture as it was he who took me to Master.
Note: A few of the episodes narrated here were translated and published in the Tamil weekly ‘’SAVI’’ in their issue dated 28.6.1989. The caption of the write- up was “Sila Apoorva Sangathigal””and Master’s photograph was also published.
P.G.Krishnamoorthy