About my learning to play mridangam

ABOUT MY LEARNING TO PLAY MRIDANGAM
“”Raa nithi Raathu, Po nithi Pothu”” (what will not come, will not come –what will not go, will not go) saint Thyagaraja’s Krithi in Raagam Manirangu, Aadi Thaalam
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I had a craving for classical Carnatic music even from my babyhood. As a boy of three, I used to sit on a mat and listen to the music and Harikatha programmes arranged during our village car festival and even at marriage functions. In those days, a music concert was a must at all functions, even minor family level functions like poonal and during all festivals, there used to be two or even three such programmes each day, if the parties were rich enough to afford the expenses.( A marriage or Upanayanam meant minimum four days of celebrations).
Maani Bhagavathar, a disciple of Sri Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar, was staying in our village and teaching Carnatic vocal music. My father sent me to him. He heard my voice and said that I would not be good at vocal music and that I should try some instrument.
There was one Menon, teaching Mridangam in our village when I was about four. I used to go there and sit watching the students play. Initial lessons were imparted using a block of wood shaped as a Mridangam with black paint in the place of the choru. I would sometimes try to beat on this and sometimes I used to be allowed to give a few soft strokes on the real Mridangam. Menon used to give me a biscuit or sweet. But Menon moved out of our village within a year or so.
During the festival concerts I would not sleep till the conclusion of the last programme for the day. My father had noticed this. But he was very reluctant to allow me to learn the art, though he was aware of the aesthetic aspect. With very few exceptions, the professional musicians and dramatists known to him, were of bad character and most of them had no formal education and therefore, they were crude in their behaviour. Except those at the top, they had no steady income. When I pestered him a lot, he made some enquiries and came to know that a local goldsmith, was playing Mridangam at some dramas. So father requested him to teach me. The goldsmith told me that he had not learnt the art from anyone and was just playing for their community dramas known as kootthu on the basis of what he had learnt through hearing others. So that did not take off. In the process, we gifted a small Mridangam, made out of palmyrah wood to the goldsmith as he did not have one of his own.
When I was about 11 years old, there was a festival known as Akhandadhaarai at our village temple. The couplet “Hare Raama, Hare Raama, raama Raama Hare Hare” set to different tunes, was chanted nonstop for 24 hours doing pradakshinam around one holding a thambura (symbolising probably Naaradamahaarshi or Aanjaneya). A number of mridangists were also there. At one point, someone, noticing my drumming on a bench, asked me to play the Mridangam. At that point, my father, who was then the mathematics teacher for S.S.L.C., , Srinivasa Iyer, the then headmaster, and Palakkad Mani Iyer’s first Guru Sri Chatthapuram Subba Iyer, entered the pandal (where the function was conducted). Srinivasa Iyer noticed me and he told my father that I had a real talent which should be encouraged. Sri Subbaiyer immediately said that he would gladly take me as a student if I could be sent to Palghat during the vacation. My father’s distant cousin was running a hotel at Olavakkot which is about two miles away from Sri Subbaier’s house by road. But if one crossed kalpathy river diagonally, it is just about half a mile. My master started the lessons and taught a few jadis and mohras within a fortnight. Unfortunately for me, he had a series of kutcheris which kept him away from home. I was also feeling home sick. So I came home more than once. Anyway, not much could be learnt there. With what little I knew, I used to play for the Bhajanai at our place. I had a small Mridangam brought by my cousin sister’s husband. (At Mangalore I gifted it to a boy who showed keen interest in the instrument).
In 1949 June when I was about 14 ½, I joined the Vivekananda College, Mylapore, Madras for my higher studies. I stayed in the hostel. We were four in a room. The college, in the Ramakrishna Mission Group was run on charity. Our furniture consisted of one chair, one table and a bookshelf accommodated on the table, for each student. Students had to sleep on the floor. Someone had donated 40 cots made of wooden frame and plywood top. There were about 130 students in all besides some members of the faculty. So cots were allotted on the basis of lottery. Though one of the junior most in the hostel, I was lucky to get one cot. The sound while drumming on the cot was quite pleasing. I used to involuntarily drum on the cot occasionally. A few of the students were proficient in Carnatic classical music. My drumming attracted their attention. We began to have music sessions off and on. Some other music enthusiasts also joined. At the end of my first year, when I was about to go to my native place for the summer vacation, most of these strongly advised me to have intensive coaching in Mridangam as, in their opinion, I was really very talented. Immediately on reaching my village, I started the search for a good teacher. There was none in our place or in the immediate neighbourhood. The only name which cropped up frequently was that of Sree Kuinisseri Mani Iyer. Kunisseri was about 5 miles away by road. But a short- cut across the Thrippavallur river would reduce it to about four, provided there was no water in the river. Mostly during summer months of March to June, the riverbed was dry. Though some buses plying between Palakkad and southern parts like Alathur, Trichur etc, touched Kunisseri, service was infrequent and even for boarding the bus one had to come to Thrippavallur or Bank Road, almost a mile away from my village. Kunsseri Mani Iyer was one of the three rising stars among mridangists from Palakkad Taluk in those days, the other two being the Great Maestro, Sree Palakkad Mani Iyer and Sree Palakkad Ramachandran. Nature has its own way of choosing the best among equal contenders for the top position. Palakkad Ramachandran became mentally unstable and Kunisseri Mani Iyer contracted the dreaded Leprosy. Both these were eliminated from active participation at concerts. It was not that Sree Mani Iyer got an undue advantage because of this. He was un-paralleled and innovative in every aspect of playing Mridangam, which the other two and the music world all over, accepted and acknowledged. He deserved the topmost position in the field on his own merit and as someone remarked, he commanded respect as one “”Na Bhootho, Na Bhavishyathi”” who had no equal in the past nor would there be one in future.
Well, when I mentioned Sree Kuinisseri Mani Iyer’s name to my father, he was very hesitant. He never wanted me to take chances with a disease of that type. But Sri Padmanabhan Master, who was my teacher and scout master in the school, and hailed from kunisseri, made thorough enquiries and assured my father that Sri Mani Iyer had recovered substantially and there would be no occasion for me to have contact with him or to use the instrument used by him. So it was fixed that I should take lessons from Sri Mani Iyer. I used to get up at 4 ‘’O clock in the morning, have bath in the village tank with my father, have my breakfast comprising previous day’s rice, curd and pickles and then walk 4 to 5 miles to Kunisseri. En route I used to chant at least three rounds of Vishnusahasranaamam. On reaching the village, I would rest for about ten minutes and then my lessons would begin. On the very first day itself, my master said that my fingers had natural tendency to produce the correct Naadam. So he started with the first lessons and immediately put me on to Aadi Thaala Thani Aavartthanam pattern also. Classes were daily and they would last two hours or more. I would return home by about one O’Clock, have my meals and then practice in the evening for about two hours. Within two and a half months, my guru taught me a number of “”Paatakkais”” (positioning of fingers ) and basic Thani Aavartthanams in Aadi, Roopakam, Misra Chappu, Khanda Chappu and Aadi double kalai. Since he could sing, he also gave guidance in accompanying vocal music.
My friends in the hostel, appreciated this very much. During the two weeks michaelmas vacation in September, some more lessons were added. I was to continue to learn during the Christmas vacation. Unfortunately, Fate struck a deathblow to this wish ; my father expired on 27th December 1950. We left my village for good in January 1951 and arrived at Madras.
Meanwhile, at Madras, my two elder brothers and I had set up household in the premises at 31 coral merchant street, which had been vacated by my uncle. This involved travel from one end of the city to the other for my college classes and I also had to assist in cooking and cleaning. Support for my engaging in music, which I received from my hostel friends, stopped. I used to practice whatever I had learnt, whenever circumstances permitted.
In 1958, when Sri T.S.Rajagopalan, my colleague in Reserve Bank who used to organise music and religious programmes at the Perumaal temple in Nungambaakkam in connection with the Hanumathjayanthi, was in need of a mridangist for a concert, my name was mentioned by a friend. I could not accept the programme, but the introduction later brought me in contact with some professional musicians. I played at an informal get- together and the professionals assured me that I had enough talents and urged me to continue to take lessons. I just left it at that as I had many other things to do.
Sri C.V.Ramakrishnan, a cousin’s maternal cousin was employed in Vauhini Studios, Kodambakkam . I visited him once. When I stepped into his place, a friend of his and he were playing Mridangam. He told me that he was taking lessons from Sri K. Subrmanian, a disciple of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer. Since he had seen me in the days when I was taking lessons from Sri Chatthapuram Subbaier, he asked me also to play. After hearing me he said that he would take me to his Guru and I must continue my lessons. For six months, we tried to find a mutually convenient day for him to take me, but he was too busy and ultimately, he introduced me to his Guru over the phone. His Guru agreed to see me on 11th July, 1959. We met. After preliminaries, he asked me if my palms sweated during exercise. He said if so, there was no point in my learning as the black portion of the right side of the instrument would become wet and this would affect the “”naadam”” (tone). Fortunately, I was free from this. After hearing me play, he agreed to teach me , but he said that I had to start from the first lessons ”Paatakkai” as I had to change the fingering position. He also said that I must find at least two hours a day for practice, for a minimum period of two years. I should not play for any concert or even bhajan and I should not also listen to other programmes and try to copy the playing of anyone else till he gave the clearance. I agreed to all the conditions. Then it was fixed that I should start the lessons from 13th July, a couple of days before the start of the inauspicious month of ‘”Aadi. So, Ramakrishnan’s Guru became my third Guru and counting from the time I set my fingers on Mridangam, he was the fifth. The fee was Rs.10 a month for lessons on three days in a week.. My Guru was a distant relation of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer. He had had his initial lessons from Chunangaad Appu Iyer, fairly well-known in Kerala. Later he came under the tutelage of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer. His family was at Ernakulam for a number of years. There he had participated in many concerts even by senior artistes. The family shifted to Madras in the latter half of 1950s. Competition in music field was severe. Except established artistes, the others had practically no chance even for survival unless they had strong patronage and support. Fortunately, he had passed matriculation with good marks and had also learnt type-writing. He got a job in a company and also had a few tuitions. He was only four years older than me and was a bachelor. He was living with his parents and younger brothers.
I presented myself at his residence on 13th July 1959 at 7 pm. My first lessons were started. I had to change my fingering and this meant that until my Guru Okayed the position of fingers while playing the “”chollus””, I could not be given the regular Thani Aavartthanam lessons. At the conclusion of the lesson that day, my Guru told me that he would prefer my going to his house for lessons every day, if I had no other engagements, but no extra fee would be charged. I was not married. I had already passed my C.A.I.I.B. examinations and also two diploma examinations then conducted by the Indian Institute of Bankers. I did not have any assignment after office hours. So this suited me immensely. I would reach home by 5.30 or 5. 45 p.m. after office, have my bath and do my evening prayers and, fortifying myself with good snacks and coffee, I would reach my Guru’s place by 7 p.m. By that time, he would also have finished his evening prayers and visit to temples. Every day, he would ask me to repeat some of the old lessons and then give new ones. He was keen that I should practice the lessons and play to his satisfaction at the commencement of session next day. I used to get up early and after morning ablutions, practice for a couple of hours. Once I could not practice. So that evening I did not go for lessons. He telephoned me next day and enquired as to why I did not go. When I told him that I could not practice, he said, ”What if you could not? You can practice here. But do not cut classes on that count.” His sincerity was exemplary.
Within two months, I got over the paatakkais to his satisfaction and he started the regular Jadis and mohras of Aadi Thaalam. At the end of one year I had gained mastery over seven Thaalams. During the second year of my learning under this master, my mother had to be at my sister’s place for about six months. I was cooking my own food. My Guru and his parents would insist that on Sundays I should be at their place by 9 a.m. I would have regular lessons till noon. Then I would have lunch there and take rest for a couple of hours. Around 3 pm, Mr.D.V.Pathanjaleeswaran, Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer’s sister’s son (Palakkad Raghu’s brother-in-law), living close by, would arrive. He was working for Ashok Leyland. He had learnt music under Palakkad K.V.Narayanaswamy and attended innumerable concerts where Sri Mani Iyer had played Mridangam. One cannot say that he was a full-fledged musician capable of singing pallavis of his own. But what little he had, was good and his style was a copy of Sri Ariyakkudi Ramanuja Iyengar’s “”baani””. His Varnams and keertthanais, which were mostly the ones often sung by Ariyakkudi, were clear and any mridangist would derive pleasure in accompanying him. My guru had also learnt vocal music for a number of years. After tea, these two would sing and give me training in accompanying vocal music for two hours or more.
In December 1960, Pathanjali had a brilliant idea that we should celebrate Saint Thyagarajaswamigals aaraadhana, which fell on 6th January 1961. There was a marriage hall ( used to be called choultry) nearby. Since it was the month of Maargazhi and there were no bookings, the owner offered it free of rent for three days. A number of music enthusiasts in and around the area offered to help financially and physically. In those days, there were many amateur artistes and even some professionals who would gladly participate at such functions without expecting any remuneration. As a matter of courtesy, they would be offered conveyance facility and tea or lunch/ dinner. Programmes for three days, commencing with Unchavritthi on 6th January morning around 8 a.m., followed by rendering of Pancharathna Krithis, Samaaaraadhaana, and a series of kutcheries of two hours’ duration, were charted. Response from the local public was very good.
After Unchavraitthi covering a few streets around a temple of Aanjaneya, and some others in the area known as Komaleswaranpet, the artistes assembled for the rendering of Pancharathna Krithis.
My Guru came to me with a plateful of sugar candy offered as neivedyam for the deity and put a small pinch of it in my mouth saying that I would be playing at two or three concerts during the programme and that would be my Arangetram. Normally, an Arangetram is performed as a public function and the Guru is honoured with a handsome Guru Dakshina ( remuneration in cash and kind like costly dhothies, gold, etc.). So I told him that I did not catch the significance. He smiled and said “”Gurudakshina need not necessarily mean cash and valuables. A student’s dedication, proficiency and sincerity are the main things which a Guru should expect in a disciple. There are many great vidwans who have not taken anything from their disciples. I shall be more than satisfied if you play well and earn a good name as a mridangist.””
The artistes sat for rendering the pancharathna krithis. I presumed that I too should play and I was about to get my Mridangam ready. My Guru stopped me and said I was not ready for accompanying the rendering of Pancharathna krithis. Old timers gave a lot of importance to the aesthetics as well emotional appeal of the krithis . Mridangam accompaniment should closely follow the chittaswaras and sahithyam and the playing should be mellow and sound effect should be good. This meant that the mridangist should also know the krithis well. I was nowhere near this. But immediately after the last krithi, I was asked to play for a couple of songs. The congregation adjourned for lunch. Regular concerts were to start at 4 p.m. My guru was to play for the first concert. About five minutes to 4 pm, my Guru’s brothers rushed to me and asked me to get the Mridangam ready and ascend the platform . I protested that My Guru was to play, but they said that he had suddenly taken ill due to strain of the past several days in organising the events and there was no other mridangist available. So I got on to the stage and played. The opening krithi was “”Raama Bhakthi Saamraajya”” in Suddha Bangala Raagam. Towards the end of the concert My Guru came looking very weak and tired. He had heard part of the concert as he came. He said “”Besh”” meaning “”very good”.
That was my arangetram. Due to local support, what started as celebration of a single event, turned out to be the genesis of a small music sabha styled Sree Thyagabrahma Bhakthajana Sabha, arranging monthly concerts by junior artistes eager to show their talents. They were not novices , though many were amateurs dedicated to the cause of music. I got some opportunities to play at these concerts. This brought me in touch with other artistes and I got offers from other forums including the concerts for various festivals like navarathri, Ramanavami . After this “”arangetram””, my Guru stopped taking fee from me. In the initial stages of my entry as a mridangist my guru gave me a piece of advice. He said “Never attach too much importance to rounds of applause from all and sundry. You should be able to locate the really knowledgeable persons in the audience and watch their reaction from time to time. That will be an index of your performance. Over a period of time, you will develop the capacity for self-assessment and know how you perform. Thereafter, there will be no need for you to look to anyone else for judging your contribution to the success of the concert. What others think or say will not matter. You will know your weak and strong points and shape and refine your performance for better effect. It will be a continuing process.”
In 1962, C.V.Kuppuswamy, a professional Mridangam/kanjeera artiste sent me a post card. Kumbakonam Brothers (Sri Sankaran and Sri Viswanathan) were giving a concert at Thyagabrahma Sabha at Ekambareswarar Agrahaaram . Sri R.S.Gopalakrishnan , was to play on the violin. Kuppuswamy was playing kanjeera and I was to play mrigandam. There is a Thyagraja Vdwath samaajam in Mylapore. They have monthly concerts on Bahula panchami day. Similarly, the sangeetha vidwans on Madras City side had a samaajam which celebrated the annual Thyagaraja Aaraadhana and had concerts on Bahula Panchami day every month. The kutcheri in which I was to participate was on bahula Panchami day. I showed the card to my Guru. He read it and became thoughtful for some time. Then he told me “”Kumbakonam Brothers are quite senior and their performance will be of a high standard. With a little luck, they could have come up like Aalathur Brothers. R.S.Gopalakrishnan is also more or less like them and accompanies senior artistes. You are a novice. Anyway, the offer has come in the name of God and Saint Thyagaraja. They will take care of you. Go and play well. Take my Mridangam which is much better than yours””.
I took my mother’s blessings as usual and went. As we sat for the concert, I could see that practically all the members of the fairly large audience, were professional musicians. Thanjavur Krishnamoorthy Rao, mridangist and Thiruvalloor subramaniam, violinist, who regularly accompanied M.L. Vasanthakumari were also there. There was no formal introduction of the artiste at the beginning of the programme. All except me were already well known to the audience. The concert started with Thygaraja’s “”Raama Nee Poi thanake”” in Kethaaram and within five minutes, the concert got on to a lively note – what in usual parlance is described as “”Kutcheri kalai kattidutthu””. I could guess from the beginning that the main artistes had gauged my standard and were doing their best to encourage me and lead me. The kanjeera artiste also co-operated very well and we were appreciated as a good team. The main krithi was “Daarini thelusu kondi “” in Suddha Saaveri after which we had the thani Aavartthanam. In the vote of thanks which followed, Thanjavur Krishnamoorthy Rao, President of the Sabha, said about me “” the Mridangam artiste is new to us. His performance was pleasing and appropriate. Even many seasoned mridangist are deficient in performance due to lack of proper naadam, clarity of chollu and co-ordination between the left and right hands. The right hand may be moving correctly, while the left will be banging out like one washing a dhothi on a stone (Veshti thokkara maathiri) or the left may be soft and smooth while the right would not move in unison. Today’s mridangist stands out in Naadam, clarity and choice of chollus in accompanying the music.””. It was a tribute from a veteran and we later became quite good friends. But I knew in my heart of hearts that had not Kumbakonam brothers actively encouraged me and led me on, I would not have been able to do much. Within a minute, they could have sung some complicated sangathis or swaras and I would have been floored. They even said that they would like to have me as their accompanist more often and kept up a friendship with me although I was far too junior in age and incomparably small in knowledge and experience.
Soon thereafter, I was teamed with Kalakkad Ramanarayana Iyer, a senior Vidwan and well-known teacher, at a few concerts. In 1963, my Guru asked me to apply for audition to All India Radio. I was selected and placed in the concert grade. My first performance was with Kalakkad Ramanaarayana Iyer for one hour and fifteen minutes and was broadcast on 13th December 1964. T.Kesavalu was on the violin. We started with “”Manasaayadulo”””in malayamaarutham raga. The main piece was in Saveri. Immediately after the recording, Kalpathy Ramanathan ( a senior disciple of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer) and Madras Kannan, another senior mridangist, who were listening from the announcer’s cabin, came to me and congratulated me on my performance. When I told them that I was an amateur and it was only my hobby, Ramanathan said that he too learnt the art when he was at college, but over a period of time, it became his profession and besides being on the permanent staff of AIR, he was also accompanying Smt.M.S.Subbalakshmi at concerts. Both advised that I should practice as often as possible and at least keep the “”chollu””s and songs rolling in my mind. Aesthetic playing could be achieved only by constantly thinking and trying to provide innovations in the method of playing and accompanying other artistes. Sri N.M.Narayanan, a well-known critic wrote in his review of the programme in the Mail (an evening paper then published in Madras)“P.G.Krishnamoorthy gave pleasing accompaniment on the Mridangam”. My guru was immensely pleased. I took the cheque given by the AIR to him. He was very happy to see it. He asked whether I had shown it to my mother. Then he asked me to place it before the pooja lamp at his house and prostrate. I did so and then told him that he should take at least this amount. He smiled and said,” the remuneration is for the person who played at the concert. For the Guru, the credit for producing such an artiste is more than sufficient”. I wonder how many teachers will have this magnanimity!!!.
In 1965, destiny brought me on to the stage to face larger audiences. Chittibabu, the famous veena artiste was coming up as a rising sun in the music horizon. He was to play at a gathering where a disciple of Sri Sathya Baba was expected. There was a good gathering. In their search for a mridangist, they came to me. I consulted my Guru and he said as usual “”Go ahead””. The Baba had instructed that the concert should start at 5 p.m. whether he was present or not. And it should go on for two to three hours. It was a mike less concert. Veena being a mellow instrument, for me as a percussionist, it was a tough task to control sound, maintain clarity and naadam and produce the required speed and variety in chollus. Chittibabu’s strumming was quite strong and it was a help. In any case, right from the beginning we were able to build a close rapport and do very well. His sankaraabharanam and the composition “”Swararaagasudha””were superb. So was my “Thani aavartthanam””. Thereafter, we gave several concerts together. At our concert in Bangalore Kuchalaambal Kalyana Maahal in June 1967 after the piece nagumomu in Aabheri and my thani aavartthanam, Babu took the mike and said “”it is curse that this excellent artiste has a job in Reserve Bank of India. We are not able to avail of his services as often as we would like to have.” In fact, in April, 1967, he had insisted on my taking part in a recording for Voice of America at the Saraswathi Stores ( HMV studio) and urged me to take a passport so that we could go abroad together..
Unfortunately, there were too many restrictions on my engaging myself in activities other than my duties at the office, even though they were outside my office hours and did not clash with my office work. These restrictions were substantially relaxed in 1977 in respect of literary and artistic pursuits. But by that time, I had risen in official position and I had very little spare time to pursue my art. My performances were confined mainly to taking part in radio programmes which were mostly outside my office hours and other local kutcheries, whenever official work permitted.
Around 1963, Ramakrishna Iyer, a disciple and constant attendant of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer for over two decades, was introduced to me. He took an instant liking to me and brought me in touch with the Master. I could not grasp most of the complicated calculations and permutations and combinations which Master displayed in abundance in his concerts. But I could, by and large, adopt his style of following while accompanying songs and many of the ”Nadais”” which were always very pleasing to hear. I was complimented on these by many mridangists.
I would like to mention a few lessons on human behaviour, which I learnt in the process of my learning to play Mridangam. In November 1961, I had gone to Tiruchirapally on official duty. I badly needed a Sthayi (high pitch) Mridangam. I thought it would be easy to procure one at Tiruchirapally. My boss knew a person who was close to Sri Tinniyam Krishnan, a well known mridangist. He took me to Sri Krishnan and I conveyed to him my need. Sri Krishnan told me that it would be very difficult to get one Mridangam at short notice, but he promised to try. Then he asked me to play for some time. At that time, I was learning from Sree Subrahmaniam. After hearing me play, Sri Krishnan remarked “ I do not know who your teacher is. But he has taught you exceedingly well. You are working in Reserve Bank of India and you will not grudge paying your fee regularly. There are any number of unscrupulous persons in this field who will find fault with your playing and try to grab you from your present teacher. For Heaven’s sake do not fall a prey to such people’s tricks.”
I realised very soon that this was cent per cent true. An organisation called Sangeetha Vaadyaalaya, sponsored by Tamilnad Government was manufacturing music instruments, mainly to train artisans in the craft. I had bought a Mridangam from this organisation earlier. So I approached this organisation for a stthhayi Mridangam. The official in charge of making Mridangams took the order and promised to give me the instrument in 10 days. I told him that I had already accepted a programme at which this would be needed and wanted an assurance that I would get the instrument in 10 days. He said that he himself was a well known Mridangam teacher and if by chance my Mridangam was not ready in ten days, he was ready to lend me one of his best mridangams suitable for the programme. I cannot say whether it was a coincidence or manipulation, but my Mridangam was not ready on the appointed day. So I went to that gentleman’s residence. He showed me the instrument which he was to lend me and then asked me to play for some time. He did not offer any comment immediately, but asked me to wait. Meantime, he had sent someone to bring one of his students staying nearby. He asked the boy to play and told me to watch closely. When the boy finished, he asked me “” Do you see the difference? The position of your fingers, when you play, is all wrong. Whoever has taught you, has misled you thoroughly. Anyway, you take the Mridangam and after your programme, we should meet. I shall guide you as to how one should handle the instrument.”” I decided that I should have nothing to do with this chap. So I told him that a friend near my place had already promised to give me his Mridangam for the programme. I thanked him for his kindness in offering his Mridangam for my performance and then left. But a month or so after that, he dropped in at my residence and broached the subject. I pleaded inability to think about further lessons in Mridangam due to pressing official work.
In 1965 I had gone to Madurai. I had the good fortune to be introduced to Sree Sankarasivam, the great maestro who had groomed top class musicians. He asked me to play. He was very happy and complimented me and said that my then Guru had taught me very well and the positioning of my fingers was absolutely correct. Coming from Sree Sankarasivam, who was known for his forthright critical comments, it was a very great compliment to me and my Guru. I met Sree Sankarasisvam several times after that and he was genuinely pleased that I was continuing to participate in programmes.
Soon after this, one vocalist told me that I was playing alright, but to be recognised in the music world and sought after, I should have the name of some well-known artiste as my Guru. He suggested that I learn at least for some months, a few lessons from a senior vidwan known to him. This would enable me to tag on the name of the vidwan. I politely declined saying that, for me this was purely a hobby and I was never after money or name.
There were a few more such instances. But all I wanted to emphasise was that there are plenty of snares into which one is prone to fall. For one thing, in this profession, there are many who look to the money angle only. Secondly, more often than not, the way a person has been groomed may not be compatible with the approach of the new Guru and this matters a lot. I have known a number of cases where persons who were coming up well, changed masters and this proved to be the starting point of deterioration.
It is not as though there were no discouraging factors. In fact, on a few occasions, I even thought of giving up the hobby. On one occasion, I was asked to accompany a male artiste who was the disciple of a very great vidwan. This was at the Thyagaraja Sanageetha Vidwath Samajam at Mylapore. Sri Thiruvannamalai Ramamoorthy Iyer was on the violin. Since the artiste was well connected, there was a good crowd. Many of these were trying to boost his image. I was not that well known and nobody really took notice of me. The artiste had a good voice and he started the kutcheri with “”Meru Samaana”” a composition by Saint Thyagraja, in a very slow tempo. Throughout the concert, he was not indicating the thaalam and his own laya level was moving up and down. Somehow I managed to keep the timing and follow the singer. But after a few pieces, he sang a krithi in Roopakam, but his laya was often going from 12 maatharas to 14 maathras. I was fed up. Remembering the Master, Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer, I gave a variety of nadais to support the krithi and bring the layam under control. There was a cheering voice saying “”Bale Krishnamoorthy Sir. Indha paattukku ippadithaan vaasikkanam.”” It was Kumbhakonam Sankara Iyer appreciating my predicament and encouraging me. Thereafter I did not restrain myself and my thani aavartthanam was very much appreciated. However, I overheard one of the joint secretaries, (not a reputed musician himself), whispering to the main artiste that though he had come prepared with a pallavi, he need not sing that and that they would give another opportunity to him with senior accompanists when he could display all his skills. Anyway, I was really put out. After reaching home, I told my mother that when all is said and done, Mridangam is only an accompaniment. If the main artiste fails or does not give opportunity, the mridangist cannot shine, however much he may try. I decided not to pursue the art and did not accept any engagement for about three months and did not even touch the instruments.
But The Almighty had different designs for me. One Friday evening when I was about to commence my Pooja,, my friend Sri V.S.Mani, an amateur vocalist, came very unexpectedly with his cousin, Professor Ramanathan, a Carnatic music professor and said ”My cousin sings very well. I wanted him to sing with your accompaniment. Let us have a session for a couple of hours. “” I told him that I had decided not to play again and narrated the incident. Prof.Ramanathan did something which I never expected. He took the flower garlands which I had kept ready for my pooja and put them nicely on all the pictures of our Gods. Then he said “”In a field like music, disappointments are as common as laurels. Even Palakkad Mani Iyer is not spared. Some persons even create problems to pull down an artiste or push up an undeserving one. You should not be put out by these. Please perform the Aarathi and then we shall begin our session. You have just started your contribution as a mridangist. You will go a long way. Small pinpricks should not stop you.”” Then he started with Viribhoni Varnam and we went on for more than two hours. I resumed participating in Kutcheries.
There were two more occasions when I almost gave up playing.
In 1964-65, I started having a peculiar problem. Normal duration of our kutcheries was three to four hours. Halfway through the programmes, my left upper arm would become stiff and stony hard, with a reddish tinge. It used to be very painful even to lift the hand. I consulted some doctors, and they said that it was thromboflabitis or lyphangitis. They advised me to give up playing Mridangam. I was wondering what to do. How it was miraculously cured is recorded in my letter to the journal “”SRUTI’’. Once, when I met Sri Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar, he asked me how I was progressing in my performance on midangam. I told him about my problem. He immediately said “”Don’t worry. At the next Guruavaayoor Ekaadasi festival, we, that is I , on your behalf, shall offer a pair of arms in silver to Guruvaayoorappan. From now onwards, you are rid of the malady.”” The problem never recurred. Though I wished to attend the Guruvaayoor Ekaadasi festival and take part in the music concerts from that time, it was only in 1981 that I was able to do so. Chembai had attained the Lotus feet of the Lord by that time. But it was a coincidence that the vocal artiste whom I accompanied on the Mridangam sang Chembai’s favourite song “”Thaaye yasoda..”” in Thodi raagam emotionally and I was equally overcome and played exceedingly well and got a good name.
The third occasion was in 1967 or 1968. Due to the vigorous process of Reserve Bank and Government weeding out small and weak banks, the section in which I was working had heavy work load. I had also accepted a number of engagements as mridangist at the Navarathri and Skandashashti festivals. It was quite a strain and I developed chest pain. My mother was very much upset. I decided to put a stop to my participation in the kutcheries and I even parted with one of my best mridangams to Kuppuswami, who had encouraged me initially to participate in programmes. But pressure from friends, especially Chitty Babu pulled me back.
By about 1970, my official tours increased both in number and in duration. So practising Mridangam became a casualty as the instrument is inconvenient to transport. A close friend had literally dumped his old violin at my flat. Sri Sundaram Iyer, a professional violinist and frequent visitor to my residence, suggested that I learn to play violin also as this would complement the quality of my performance as a mridangist. I tried this as the instrument was easy to carry and I could practice at my lodge while on tour. I learnt the initial lessons and a few “”varnams””. But, again Chitty Babu cautioned me against the attempt. He said that my forte as a mridangist was the Naadam and clarity of chollu. Handling a string instrument was sure to develop grooves in the fingers and these would probably affect my playing Mridangam. Anyway, I gave up the violin lessons.
I left Madras in August 1976. Thereafter my activity as a mridangist tapered to radio programmes plus just a few public programmes. I never took part in programmes organised by Music sabhas as I would have to take prior permission from my office. If due to exigencies of office and unexpected tours, I could not be present at the concert, it would cause embarrassment to the organisers and eventually affect my good name in the music circles. My stay at Bangalore was only for three years. I was practically unknown in the music circles and pressure of work at the office was also heavy. I had only about twenty programmes over this period. At Mangalore (1979 august to 1983 June), scope was very limited. Hearing my performances broadcast by All India Radio, I was invited to participate at the Saint Thyagaraja festival programmes. I accompanied the then Pontiff of Subrahmanya Mutt who later relinquished his Sanyasa and became a Grihasttha after marriage with a young doctor from Hyderabad.
I shifted to Bombay in June 1983. Between 1983 and 1994, I was asked fairly frequently to play at AIR concerts as there were not many graded artistes and pressure on the staff artiste was too much. I had very few offers other than these. For one thing, I was not well known. Secondly, having shifted from Mangalore, a very small place, I was lost in the big city. Travel was a problem. I took part in one or two kutcheries at the request of some who heard my performance over the radio. As a matter of principle, I never stipulated or expected remuneration for my performance. My service conditions prohibited it. I took part mostly in performances at religious functions and service to God was good enough for me. The income from radio programmes covered my expenses for maintenance of instruments. There were many amateur artistes at Madras in those days, who held the same view. At Bombay, some of the local artistes very guardedly suggested that it was not good on my part to forego remuneration. They said that they had invested in taking tuitions and acquisition and upkeep of instruments. Therefore they had a right to expect reasonable compensation for their performance. Moreover, one would be considered “”very cheap”” if he did not ask for decent remuneration. They also argued that many of the artistes coming from Madras for performances were amateurs, who had income from their employment, but still they were remunerated well. Somehow, I was not very happy to ask for fee for my programmes. The amount I paid to my Gurus was next to nothing and very often I had taken meals at their places. I was almost a member of their families.
A Divine intervention made me take part in five kutcheries during the Navarathri celebrations at the Subrahmanyaswamy temple at Cheddanagar, in 1984. As there was no vacancy in the office quarters in the locality of my choice, I had occupied a flat belonging to a distant relative at Cheddanagar, on arrival at Mumbai in June 1983. Some neighbours noticed my playing Mridangam at home and they asked me to take part in the saint Thyagaraja Aaraadhana that year. Music classes were being conducted at the temple and the teacher became my friend. I told him that the Thyaagaraaja Sangeetha Vidwath Samajam used to have a 24 hours non-stop rendering of the Saint’s krithis at Thiruvayyar on Mahaasivaraathri day. I suggested that they could consider having a programme like that or at least a kutcheri for a few hours. The suggestion appealed to him and some other committee members. So they asked me to find a fairly good vocalist who would not ask for any remuneration, as they were short of funds. One of my colleagues was a good vocalist and he was also eager to sing at the temple. So everything was set for the programme on the Sivarathri day in 1984. But a day prior to the programme, one of the committee members called me and said that there would be abhishekams four times from evening and apart from the naadaswaram, bells would ring, He felt that a kutcheri would not fit in with the scheme of rituals. So the idea was dropped. However, it left me wondering how in temples in the south where similar abhishekams were conducted, managed to have music programmes the same day.
I left it at that. But it in retrospect, it appears that the Gods in the temple did not. That year, during navarathri, the temple could not arrange for the usual Chandi Homam due to paucity of funds. When I visited the temple one day near-about Navarathri, the music teacher and some committee members gave me this information. They were feeling sad that though the temple had a shrine of Devi, there would be no special programme in the evening. They said that if talented musicians would come forward to give performances without expecting remuneration, it would be helpful to fill the void and asked me to suggest some names. I took it seriously and requested my friends. Three or four agreed provided the dates were convenient and I communicated these to the music teacher. When I visited the temple next, the secretary told me that a number of amateur artistes had requested to be given chances to perform during Navarathri and there was no need to trouble my friends. Of course, if I wanted, I could take part in one or two concerts. I said that I would step aside and let others play. Ultimately, it was decided that I should take part in two concerts that is, on the second and fifth day. Due to a play of circumstances, I had to provide accompaniment for five concerts, including those of Smt.Aruna Sayeeram and Matunga sisters. By the Grace of the Almighty, I was able to do justice. After the vote of thanks by the committee member on the third occasion (when I accompanied Smt. Aruna Sayeeram), I took the microphone and said that it was not fair on my part to play for so many concerts in the series, while a number of young artistes were yearning for chances to perform. I would happily give place to those and encourage them. If there was a situation where a programme would have to be cancelled for want of a mridangist, I would gladly take the place and do my best to support the programme. While saying this, I had in mind Sri Paalakkad Mani Iyer’s advice to me which I have narrated in my write up on the Great Master ( my blog link pgkrishnamoorthy.blogspot.com) . I meant what I said. In the music field, I am a small fry - an unknown entity. There was no justification for my trying to appropriate more than what I deserved, so long as I derived pleasure and satisfaction in the few concerts in which I participated.
Even in the radio programmes, I found a lot of difference between the concerts broadcast by stations in the South and Bombay station. For one thing, at Bombay, Carnatic music slots were too few and duration was only half an hour. Many of the main artistes never bothered to give scope to the mridangist to show his mettle. My heart sank even at recording of the first programme. The vocal artiste chose Mariverethi in Shanmukhapriya and she elaborated the raga for over fifteen minutes. The violinist took about seven minutes and hardly 6 minutes were devoted to the song proper. As a mridangist, I had to keep still for twenty-two minutes. Of course, several of the artistes were very good and gave a balanced programme, where all the artistes could effectively contribute and make the concert enjoyable. After a couple of years, a new slot was introduced where the duration was one hour and these concerts offered scope for all artistes and a thani aavarthanam was also provided. However, the thrill and sense of satisfaction arising from my performances, both in radio programmes and outside, which I experienced in the South, had been lost; whether it was due to my mental reservations or otherwise, I cannot say.
In 1992, I shifted residence from Prabhadevi to Thane. This meant travel and transport of mridangams from Thane to AIR studio in back bay reclamation. It was cumbersome. I took part in some programmes up to 1994. By and large, I felt that there was no point in accepting programmes any more. I declined several offers which I received afterwards, over phone.
I never really bothered about up-gradation in the AIR. Early in my association with their programmes, a senior staff member told me that up-gradation would mean frequent calls for programmes – at least once a month. Very often, my official tours were for two to three months at a stretch. If I failed to present myself for scheduled programmes three times, my name would be removed from the list and I would have to seek audition afresh. As matters stood, in the existing grade, being an outside artiste, I would be called only for concerts of one hour or one hour and fifteen minutes duration and I would be teamed with fairly senior artistes. Since I was participating in AIR programmes only for pleasure and not with an eye on remuneration, he advised me not to bother about it. All the same, I was given opportunity to play at full duration concerts, Raagam, Thaanam, pallavi programme and Thaala vaadya Kutcheris. Many of the artistes whom I accompanied were quite senior and well-known in the profession and they were happy at the way I accompanied them .
Ever since I started accompanying musicians in the sixties, many artistes have been visiting my residence ( some at my request and others, on their own) and we have been having sessions of the chamber music type. We derive immense pleasure from these. There is no thought of audience or applause. After all, Saint Thyagaraja and the great composers never had any audience other than their favourite deities in mind or vision when they sang. Saint Thyagaraja refers to Rama as Rasikasiromani in the krithi “Dasarathe “” in Thodi raagam. I recall an occurrence in 1973. I was to accompany Chittibabu at a concert. The venue was near my residence. So he had come to my house before the concert. We had snacks and coffee and we were just leaving for the place. Suddenly Babu turned to me and asked “” Krishnamoorthy Sir, Saint Thyagaraja declined wealth and sang “”nithi saala Sukhama”” Are we not wrong in playing the same songs and demanding money for doing so?”” Well , I was bowled over. But I told him jocularly “” what the Saint had in mind was for the realised souls. If all were to be like him, what would the Gods feel after creating all these glorious things. Don’t you think they will be disappointed that there is no one to enjoy them?””
My little knowledge of this art has brought me in touch with many eminent persons and they have showered affection and love on me . Above all, it has given me peace of mind and many a time, I have buried my troubles in the sweetness of the sounds emanating from this instrument. For all the beating I give it, it responds with a sweetness and soothing effect that elevate my heart and spirit.
Playing Mridangam requires a lot of energy and tuning the instrument itself is a tough task some times. In spite of all these, it has had a tonic effect on my activities both during my student life and later on. The fact that I was able to perform my duties at the office and at home, do justice to the programmes in which I took part, play an active part in the social life of our RBI Staff quarters and also take my Law degree, is proof positive of this statement. That is why I suggest to people who have learnt an art almost up to “”take off level”” and then give up saying they have other work, to somehow find a few hours each week to practice and at least maintain what they learnt, if they cannot develop further.
I had some memorable experiences, some miracles and some funny episodes and two or three unsavoury ones during the last 50 years since my entry as a stage artiste. I shall record them in good time, for whatever they are worth.
Chembai vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar, the divine soul, prophesied when we met first “”Chuppanallava onakku Mridangam thanthaan . Nee chaakaravaraikkum Vaasippai”” He was meaning Sree Chaaatthapuram Subba Iyer, who was my first real Guru. By their Grace, I am still able to handle the instrument fairly well. And I am sure that I shall do so till the Almighty calls me.
One funny aspect which seems relevant in the context of my taking to Mridangam practice is that there was none in my family who could be called a musician. My father used to write stories and dialogues for dramas and even compose music for the school functions, during his tenure as a teacher and as a Headmaster of a high school. But he never had any training in music nor could he sing or play any instrument. It seems, long before my birth, someone who needed money badly, during the heavy rains of July in Kerala, pledged a Mridangam with my paternal grandfather. He could not redeem it. So grandfather started playing whatever he could, by listening to others and accompany at Bhajanai. When he became old, he gave it to somebody.
I went to a music teacher with the intention of learning vocal music. As Sri Selvapullai Iyengar , a veteran musician at Bangalore told me once, a good voice coupled with good grooming in vocal music has tremendous advantages, especially for one taking to music purely for pleasure or as an approach to divine pursuits. One need not depend upon anyone else and one can sing even while doing the daily chores. I was not destined to get it. But God gave me the pleasure of enjoying good music and participating in music programmes through the use of my fingers if one wishes to put it that way (Selvapullai Iyengar used to say “”Kural illai endraal thaan viral””). Not only that, in spite of my deciding to quit on several occasions in frustration, the art stuck to me. In this sense, Saint Thyagaraja’s words quoted in the caption are very much relevant to me. May His Compassionate Grace be always on me and on all those who take to music as an aid to worship of the Almighty.
P.G.Krishnamoorthy , flat No. 12, Building No 8 A, Brindavan, Thane West – 400601, Maharashtra State, India e mail: pgkrishnamoorthy@gmail.com
My letter to “Sruti”” on Sree Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar and a photoraph of my Guru Sree Subrahmanian are appended. I have to attach photos of Sri Ramakrishna Iyer and Sree Chaatthappuram Subbaier, my first Guru, which I should be able to locate soon.
Sree Palghat mani Iyer was too well known. It is not necessary for me to attach his photo.