Music in Govindappa Naicken Street

This article was published several years ago in Sruti

Govindappa Naicken Street

This is a long and narrow thoroughfare that cuts across George Town, one of the older parts of Madras city. Who Govindappa Naicken was, nobody knows. But among the oldest educational establishments of the city is the Govinda Naicker School and it functions close by at the Pacchayappa’s Hall. As for the street, in keeping with the Government diktat to remove all caste names, it is simply Govindappa Street. Today it is dominated by shops and small businesses and on an average day it is almost impossible to navigate through with trucks and lorries, auto-rickshaws, two-wheelers and cars jostling for space. It has been declared a one-way but that makes no difference and if you are not the variety that walks, a cycle-rickshaw may be your best bet.

In terms of music, there is nothing but memories left on this street and even those, are fast fading. But before they vanish altogether let us see why Govindappa Naicken Street merits being a Sangeetha Sthalam.

Just as you enter the street from its NSC Bose Road end, there is a lane that cuts to the left. This is Thambu Naicken Lane and if there is a prize for a street with minimum ventilation this would win it hands down. It would also merit winning a prize for being the largest public convenience in the city. With all the darkness and the odours emanating from it, it is certainly a daunting prospect to walk through. But on a hot summer afternoon in 2000, Sanjay Subrahmanyan and I did just that. We were looking for the house of the Tachur Singaracharlu Brothers who did so much pioneering work in the field of printing books on music. The elder was also a composer and his varnams are often sung in concerts. ‘Tiger’ Varadachariar remembers that the Brothers conducted bhajan sessions at their residence. Prof P Sambamurthy in the Madras Tercentenary Volume records that they lived at No 3, Thambu Naicken Lane. By the time Vishnu Narayan Bhatkhande came to Madras (1904/5), the elder brother, who was working as a Sanskrit Pandit at the Pacchayappa’s School, had passed away. But Bhatkhande met the younger brother and also witnessed him training students in music. Sanjay and I found no trace of any home in the lane which has metamorphosed into a plastics market.

Going further down Govindappa Naicken Street you will come across the Manali Hostel. Opposite this stood the Manali Palace, once the residence of the Manali Mudaliars of whom Muttukrishna who was the last Chief Merchant of the East India Company and his son Venkatakrishna will both go down in history for being patrons of Ramaswami Dikshitar. This building merited preservation as a heritage site. But two years ago, this vast edifice where the longest Carnatic song (Natakadi vidyala, the 108 ragatalamalika of Ramaswami Dikshitar) was composed and which had played host to personalities such as Marimutha Pillai and Arunachala Kavi was demolished completely to make way for a car-park.

On Govindappa Naicken Street also stood Saundarya Mahal, its exact location now unknown though it was demolished only around ten years ago. The property of Dewan Bahadur Salla Guruswami Chetty, it had functioned as a venue for music, dance and theatrical performances before it became a marriage hall and finally faded out. But what wonderful memories it must have held when it stood!

Owing to a ban on Devadasis performing at the Gokhale Hall on Armenian Street, Saundarya Mahal was much in demand whenever Sabhas had to organise performances by these women. Brinda and Muktha, accompanied by their sister Abhiramasundari on the violin had their debut here. MS Subbulakshmi’s first concert performance in Madras city took place here on 28th December 1933 under the auspices of the Indian Fine Arts Society (IFAS) with industrialist C Rajam sponsoring the programme. Even when it came to artistes of non-Devadasi origin, the IFAS utilised the Saundarya Mahal for those who were not big draws. The Music Academy, which in its early years was conducting monthly performances, also used the Saundarya Mahal on occasion. One noteworthy performance was that of Veena Dhanam on 19th September 1936. The old lady stopped her performance midway and walked out in protest against a patron coming in with squeaky slippers.

Debates and discussions on music also took place here. The case for establishing an Academy for Indian Music in Madras was presented and a resolution passed at the Saundarya Mahal on 7th January 1926 when a group of city luminaries including the city’s leading medical practitioner Dr U Rama Rau (later the first President of the Music Academy), the theosophist Dr Margaret E Cousins who was taking a deep interest in Indian arts, the Rev. HA Popley who began the Summer School for Music, the Congress stalwart S Satyamurti, the scholar ‘Kirtanacharya’ CR Srinivasa Iyengar, W Doraiswami Iyengar, music patron and manager of the publishing house Longman-Green, bureaucrat and scholar C Ramanujachariar and noted patrons of music CD Rajaratna Mudaliar, R Krishna Rao Bhonsle and Dewan Bahadur Salla Guruswami Chetty met under the leadership of TV Seshagiri Iyer. The resolution read as follows:

“That this meeting considers that a Musical Academy be started to develop and encourage indigenous music and the same shall be known as the South Indian Academy of Music”

This was one of the many factors that saw the setting up of the Music Academy in 1928. It was during this meeting that Salla Guruswami Chetty announced that his venue would be available free of cost for those wishing to conduct classes on music. It is not clear if this offer was availed of.

Saundarya Mahal was also the venue where Samsara Nauka, a tear-jerker of a Kannada play was staged in the 1930s. It was a mammoth hit even though the language was alien to people in the city.

Govindappa Naicken Street will forever be remembered in music publishing history, for it was here that the Gnanasuryodaya Press was located. It was from that press that the first published Carnatic Music book, the Sangita Sarvartha Sara Sangrahamu, the work of Tirunagari ‘Vina’ Ramanujayya, a resident of Triplicane, came out in 1859. This year marks the 150th anniversary of that landmark publication. It was sponsored by Ramanujayya’s patron Suri Chetty Govindaraja Chetty. For the first time a wide variety of music forms, ranging from alankarams to kritis was published. Some songs of Tyagaraja, Syama Sastry and Subbaraya Sastry were included and Tyagaraja’s kritis were singled out for notation as well, perhaps the first time Carnatic music was being published with notation. Rather uniquely, Ramanujayya had sahitya for sarali and jhanta varisais! In retrospect it makes sense, for it gives variety to what has become a mundane exercise often taught with no attempt at creating interest in the disciples. The Sangrahamu was a best seller for it went into several editions with several scholars working on it over the years. The last edition appeared in 1917.

Today there is no physical proof of any of these things happening in Govindappa Naicken Street. But then music is to be enjoyed for the moment and savoured in retrospect long after the actual performance is over. Can music history be any different?

Tiruvarur – home to the arts

This article appeared in Housecalls, the in-house magazine of Dr Reddy’s Labs

Tiruvarur is not probably a name that comes readily to mind when you think of Tamil Nadu, its rich cultural heritage, temples and tradition. Chances are that first of mind recall would be Tanjavur, Madurai or Chidambaram. Unlike Tanjavur or Madurai, Tiruvarur does not take your breath away in terms of temple towers and a profusion of sculptures. But like Chidambaram it was a crucible of the arts and its iconography is full of mystic significance. Most importantly perhaps, it played a very important role in the development of South Indian classical music and dance.

Nobody is very certain as to when the temple here was built. It must have existed from very ancient times for two mythical Chola kings – Muchukunda who is said to have assisted the Gods in a battle against the Demons, and Manunithi, who was known for his strict adherence to law, are associated with the shrine. In the 9th century, Aditya Chola had the temple built in granite and later, the temple was reconstructed in stone by the imperial Cholas – Raja Raja I and Rajendra. It exercised its fascination over the subsequent dynasties of the Vijayanagar rulers, the Nayaks and the Marathas, the last two of whom ruled from Tanjavur. Over the centuries it grew in power and stature, becoming a great pilgrimage centre. As royal patronage grew, the temple expanded in physical area, with several ceremonial halls, sub-shrines and processional deities. It also acquired a wealth of murals on its walls. It also became famous for its festivals and celebrations. A vast number of artistes – dancers, pipers and drummers, became employees of the temple thereby making it the home for the arts.

Tiruvarur is situated between Tanjavur and the port town of Nagapattinam and is therefore close to the fertile delta of the river Kaveri. Today it is a district headquarter but most ironically its heyday was when it was a small village dominated by the temple. The temple still dominates the town, spanning as it does an area of 20 acres. And even larger is its tank, the Kamalalaya which spans 25 acres. It is so big that it has an island in its midst, with another temple dedicated to Shiva on it, accessible only by boat.

You reach Tiruvarur by train from Chennai and if you are near Kumbakonam or Trichy, the journey is better done by road. And when you reach the town, all you need to ask for is the temple and any of the local residents will guide you to it. If you can take your eyes off the tank, you can proceed to the temple. The deities of this temple are unique in several respects. The sanctum has an anthill that is worshipped as a Shiva Linga, here referred to as Valmiki (anthill) Natha (Lord). Though the anthill has ossified into stone, it is still considered to be of sand and so, unlike other Shiva Lingas, this is not bathed with water everyday. On the other hand it is anointed with civet oil, which gives out a unique fragrance.

More famous than the deity in the sanctum is the processional icon, known as Tyagaraja or the Lord of Sacrifice. Tyagaraja or Tyagesa is clearly made of metal and iconographically it is the standard representation of a Somaskanda, ie Shiva in the company of his consort Uma with Skanda, their infant son between them. This is the processional icon in most of the Shiva temples of Tamil Nadu. What makes Tyagesa unique is that he and his consort are forever covered with flowers and decorations, leaving only the faces exposed. Till date, none but the temple priests have ever seen the rest of the image. “What is the flaw in your body that you hide it and show only your face?” sang Papavinasa Mudaliar, a 16th century Tamil composer. Twice a year, Tyagesa deigns to display his feet – the right one sometime in December/January and the left one in August/September.

The icon is said to have been fashioned without a chisel by the divine sculptor Viswakarma and given to Vishnu for his daily worship. Vishnu in turn gave it to Indra, the king of the gods. When Indra was besieged by the Rakshasas he sought the help of Muchukunda, the Chola king. When the duo emerged victorious, a pleased Indra asked Muchukunda to name his reward. He was in for a shock for the Chola king wanted the Tyagesa idol. Indra thought quickly and asked Muchukunda to return the next day. When he came, there was a challenge in store for him. There were seven identical icons and he was told he could have Tyagesa if he managed to identify the original. Muchukunda with the help of Shiva’s grace managed to select the correct one and Indra had to give in. He also gave the other six to Muchukunda and asked him to install them at locations around his capital- Tiruvarur. This Muchukunda did, keeping the original at Tiruvarur. Even today there are six temples with Tyagesa icons around Tiruvarur. Interestingly, Muchukunda is said to have had the face of a monkey. In his previous life he is said to have been one and when he pleased God with his devotion he was blessed with the boon that in his succeeding birth he would be a king. The monkey prayed that it should always remember it’s past and be humble and so was allowed to be born a human with a simian cast.

Though it is covered with flowers, it is believed that Tyagesa is ever in a cosmic dance and so when the idol is brought out in procession, it is carried in a special palanquin with bearers who adopt a particular gait to give the impression that the deity is dancing. This is a sight to behold and the religious fervour of all those around makes it a unique experience. Interestingly, the other six Tyagesa idols situated in the vicinity also dance when they are brought out in procession. And here is the surprise element – each of the seven has a different gait that needs to be practised and perfected by the bearers before they bring it out in procession. Each of the seven dances has a different name and has come down through the generations, for bearing the deity in procession was for long a hereditary right.
The temple has in its possession a unique percussion instrument with five faces. Known as the Panchamukha vadya, it is played at certain times of the day.

Rather unusually, there are two shrines for the Goddess in this temple. The wife of Tyagesa is Nilotpalamba or the Goddess of the Blue Lily who has her sanctum close to the Tyagesa shrine. The processional icon of this Goddess shows her twining her little finger around the hand of her child – Skanda. Far to the rear of the temple is a separate shrine for another Goddess – Kamalamba – She of the Lotus. This deity is unusual for it depicts the Goddess in a seated posture with her legs crossed. Such an iconographic representation is not seen anywhere else in India. This Goddess is said to be ever in penance, praying for union with Tyagesa. It is believed that this will happen only when the universe will come to an end and that will be augured by three events – a barren cow giving milk, a stone chariot in the temple courtyard moving by itself and the Kamalalaya Tank drying up. Fortunately, the tank has never gone dry!
All three, Tyagesa, Nilotpalamba and Kamalaba sport a unique headgear – a band of flowers ending with two large circlets over the ears. There are 16 sub shrines in this temple dedicated to Ganesa, the elephant headed god who removes obstacles. Each Ganesa is different, ranging from the Vatapi Ganapati to the esoteric Ucchishta Ganapati. The space fronting the last named deity is said to have been the venue for tantric rites. In keeping with this, the Ganapati has a goddess on his lap and his trunk is embedded in her pudenda! The icon is kept demurely shrouded under a cloth today. Some of the other sub-shrines are also interesting. In the courtyard are sanctums dedicated to Shiva as the five elements. Of these, the shrine depicting the sky is a pit with nothing in it. Another is so built that no ray of the sun ever enters it. A lone lamp illuminates the sanctum.

Tiruvarur is famous for its endless temple festivals and the most famous of these is the day when the temple chariot is brought out in procession, with Tyagesa in it. The Tiruvarur Ther (chariot) is an art connoisseur’s delight. Devoid of its trappings and embellishments, it is octagonal in shape with four segments. The widest of these segments is at the top and forms the pedestal on which the idol of Tyagaraja is placed during the procession. The lower segments are profusely embellished with carvings depicting episodes from the myths and legends. The height of the chariot is around 10 metres and on either side it has wooden wheels, each 2.59 metres in diameter. In its undecorated state, the chariot weighs 26 tonnes.

The chariot festival takes place during the annual celebrations or Brahmotsavam which fall in the month of Pankuni (March/April). The Ther is one of the highlights of this festival and work begins on decorating the chariot long in advance. It is fitted with a curved canopy that is essentially a wooden frame on which brocade cloth is fitted. From this canopy hang thombais- cylindrical, brightly coloured cloth festoons that are unique to Tamil Nadu. The canopy and the thombais account for 3000 metres of cloth. These and other decorations when fitted add significantly to the weight of the chariot and its height. In its full assembly that chariot weighs 400 tonnes and rises to 30 metres. The spectacle is said to be so beautiful that Tyagaraja when seated on it is said to suffer from the proverbial evil eye- from those who envy his car and its beauty. Ceremonies are performed to ward off the negative impact of this ill-will. Dance was an integral part of the chariot festival with the Kondis, a unique lineage of female dancers attached to the temple performing as the chariot set out. This is not practised any longer though descendants of the family still receive traditional honours.

The chariot/ther rolls out on the 15th day of the annual festivities to accompaniment of loud cries of “Aroora! Tyagesa!”. Tirunavukkarasar, the Nayanmar of the 7th Century sings of Tiruvarur as the place where he saw the Lord on the great chariot. As is the practice in Tiruvarur for all its festivals, the music that is to accompany the chariot is strictly codified. These are believed to have been structured by Ramaswami Dikshitar, father of the famed music composer Muttuswami Dikshitar (1776-1835). The icon of Tyagaraja is removed from its sanctum and brought to the chariot with a certain set of ragas being performed on the nagaswaram (the traditional South Indian woodwind instrument). Once the icon is placed in the chariot, the ther mallari, a unique composition is performed on the nagaswaram. The chariot is then ready to move with its ropes being distributed among the volunteers who drag it. As it rolls along the four principal streets, different ragas and pieces, all following a set pattern are performed on the nagaswaram. Muttuswami Dikshitar in his song Tyagaraja Mahadhwajaroha describes the temple festival in its entirety and sings of the chariot.

The Tiruvarur Ther also became famous for its swaying gait and slowness, again coining an expression in Tamil to depict anybody who is slow and refuses to move easily. The latter aspect became a greater problem with the streets slowly getting congested and the difficulty in getting the chariot to negotiate corners. There have been instances of the chariot being brought back to its shed a full six months after it set out on its run. In the years approaching independence, economic conditions, the absence of volunteers and the Herculean task of organising the festival led to murmurs of discontent and the chariot festival was abandoned in 1947.

It had to wait a good twenty years for its revival. In 1969, the Chief Minister of the State Mr M Karunanidhi, who hailed from the Tiruvarur region, felt that the chariot was a symbol of Tamil pride and that the festival ought to be revived. The public sector undertaking, M/S Bharat Heavy Electricals Limited was brought into the picture and the pulling of the chariot was made easier through the introduction of giant wheels with iron rims and hydraulic brakes. Bulldozers were brought in to push the car from behind and reduce the manual effort. The public thronged back to pull the ropes. As a concession to tradition, the use of wooden blocks to help the chariot negotiate corners was retained. The chariot moved once again and has since been in use. The annual festival draws thousands of pilgrims but the day the chariot is brought out sees the maximum crowds.

The Tiruvarur Ther marks the successful collaboration of tradition, modern engineering, political will and religious fervour. In many ways it is symbolic of Tamil Nadu. Its shape and structure were the inspirations for the Valluvar Kottam, a unique architectural icon of Chennai city.

Another colourful festival is that of the float which precedes the annual festival. For three nights a huge decorated float moves around the tank carrying the deities in it. The public is allowed to sit along with the deity and live traditional music performances take place as the float moves. It takes around two hours for each round and the float moves thrice around the tank each night. On the banks several thousands line up to watch the illuminated float and the fireworks that are let off.

Tiruvarur town is also the birthplace of the Carnatic music trinity – Syama Sastry (1762-1827), Tyagaraja (1767-1847) and Muttuswami Dikshitar (1775-1835). The houses in which they were born were later acquired by a trust which built memorials for them at the spots. Though not aesthetically appealing, they serve to commemorate three geniuses who between them, revolutionized South Indian classical music, rather like Bach, Beethoven and Mozart in the world of Western Classical Music. Of the Trinity, Muttuswami Dikshitar is completely associated with Tiruvarur. Several of his compositions are in praise of the deities here. The Maratha ruler Shahaji, who ruled over the region between 1684 and 1712, was devoted to this shrine. It was said that he would not partake of his afternoon meal without the puja for Tyagesa being concluded. To convey the information that the worship had concluded, a series of bells were installed between Tiruvarur and Tanjavur and when the chimes had relayed the news, Shahaji would sit down for his lunch. Shahaji composed songs in praise of Tyagesa. His most famous opera is the Pallaki Seva Prabandha which describes Parvati pining for Tyagesa and her companions bearing the message to him. Tyagesa relents and the women carry him in a palanquin to Parvati. Another opera composed around the same time is the Tyagesa Kuravanji. This is performed as a dance drama even today at the temple on special occasions.

The Bhakti movement in Tamil Nadu is associated with the 63 devotees of Shiva, known as the Nayanmars, all of whom lived between the 2nd and 8th centuries. Of these, the last- Sundaramurthy has a shrine to himself here. It is believed that he first came up with the idea of the 63, including himself, at the Devashraya – a many-pillared hall that stands within this temple. Another hall in this temple is the Rajanarayana. The Devashraya was known for its unique murals depicting various episodes from the life of Muchukunda. These were all from the Nayak period (16th/17th century). Mostly done with vegetable dyes, these had been affected by water seepage, dust, dirt, bat excreta, the nests of birds and insects and also the growth of fungus. The Prakriti Foundation is a dynamic trust in Chennai set up to promote awareness of various arts and is headed by art-lover and aesthete Ranvir Shah. The Foundation came forward voluntarily to carry out the restoration. The Indian National Trust for Arts and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) was brought into the picture and with the help of its experts, the restoration was carried out and completed. The hall was thrown open for public view in early January this year. The event witnessed talks by experts on Tiruvarur traditions such as Saskia Kersenboom Story, Rajeshwari Ghosh and Devesh Soneji. PR Thilagam, the last of the Kondi line of dancers performed the Tyagesa Kuravanji along with her students and a book on the Muchukunda Panels by Indologist David Schulman and VK Rajamani was released. A concert by Aruna Sairam followed. It was the culmination of an arduous and difficult project, made successful thanks to Prakriti Foundation.

There is a lot to be done at Tiruvarur, for despite being a high-profile town, it suffers from unplanned and uncontrolled development. The surrounding infrastructure is not great and as for the temple itself, it has clearly seen better days. That past is now displayed in a museum within the precincts which is remarkable for its poor exhibits and the lack of effort in making it a visually aesthetic experience. Clearly, Tyagesa has to work one of his miracles to get around official apathy. And as long as he does not plan to immediately unite with Kamalamba, life will perhaps go on.

Despite all the negatives, those who have been to Tiruvarur have always considered the experience unforgettable. It has a certain magnetic attraction making tourists and pigrims wanting to return there, again and again. Mythology says it is the centre of the earth and perhaps in a symbolic fashion such a description is not far wrong.

Can the Library please stay?

The politics of one regime’s meat being the other’s poison continues unabated in our State. The latest to face the heat is the Anna Centenary Library in Kotturpuram, one of the pet projects of the previous government. It has been announced that this will be converted into a super-speciality hospital for children. The State Government would do well to reconsider its decision, after taking into account not only the logistics and cost involved in such an action, but also the sentiments of litterateurs and book-lovers not only from within Tamil Nadu but all across the world.

The Anna Library, built at a cost of Rs 172 crores, was declared open last year. It houses 15 lakh books and is presently attracting around 1500 visitors every day. Modelled on the National Library of Singapore, it has received praise from all quarters and is considered a worthy addition to a city that has prided itself on being a knowledge capital.

The idea of a second hospital in the city (after the Institute of Child Health) for children is most welcome. But can it not be at a green-field location? Why does it have to be in place of the library? Let’s face it. Transforming into a hospital a building custom-made to house a library is no easy task. It is going to involve huge expenditure in a complete transformation of the interiors. Newspaper estimates put the figure at Rs 100 crore, which is more than 50% of the cost incurred in putting up the library. And even then the final results are not going to be as satisfactory as a freshly planned and executed hospital would be. The only saving would be in the cost of construction of the shell, for that is all that would remain if the library is to be stripped and remodelled into a hospital.

The location is also worthy of reconsideration. The library is ideally situated, as it is in the middle of an educational precinct. There are schools, engineering colleges and institutes of international repute surrounding it. Would a hospital with all its adjuncts not vitiate this atmosphere of education?

The Government has also announced that it proposes to build another Anna Library, to house the present collection, at the Directorate of Public Instruction Campus (DPI). This is most undesirable. The DPI is home to several heritage structures – the main building, the Madras Literary Society, the two arched gateways (one on College Road and the other, rarely noticed but facing the Cooum) are just a few. The main building is undergoing restoration while the MLS has just been renovated. Are these structures to now bear the stress of modern high-rise construction in their neighbourhood? In addition, it is a green lung, with several age-old trees. The previous Government in the construction of the now abandoned New Assembly cum Secretariat Complex on Mount Road had razed several heritage structures and denuded the area of its tree cover. Does the present regime want to leave behind an identical record?

The decision to abandon the Assembly on Mount Road met with mixed reactions. Not everyone was impressed with its architecture and the idea of power being centred at Fort St George appealed to those with a sense of history. But the plan to relocate the library for no valid reason is likely to see a groundswell of public opinion against the move. The State Government hopefully should read the direction of the wind and let the library stay where it is.

The Slapping Sensation

Harvinder Singh, may his tribe increase
Is waging his own war on grease
Sukhram got a kick in the base
Pawar a resounding slap in the face
But will all this make corruption decrease?

The T Nagar sealing and demolition drama

A case of too little, too late

After years and years of dithering, the Government finally cracked down on several high profile shopping establishments in T Nagar, all of which had been merrily carrying on trade in buildings that had become a byword for exceeding sanctioned area limits. The question is, why was the Government, no matter which party was in power, silent for so long? And why did several steps taken by the Government actually strengthen the hands of those doing the violations?

In its time it was the first properly planned district of the city, in the modern sense. And yet, Theyagaroya Nagar or T Nagar, the showpiece of Madras in the 1920s, is today a classic example of how faulty planning, poor implementation of building regulations, the real-estate-builder-government nexus and rampant exploitation of land with no concern for anything else, can create an urban disaster. The area had become notorious for its ambient air having the highest particulate matter, far beyond what is permissible. The congestion caused by illegal high-rises was never questioned by those who had the authority to check it. These structures were never inspected while work on construction was in progress and their violations were never considered worthy of demolition. While the businesses flourished, the area went to seed. Residential streets became parking lots and rubbish tips, arterial roads were choked with traffic and poor safety norms resulted in fires and stampedes causing loss of life. But with those in power turning a blind eye, business, and violation of norms continued merrily.

The Consumer Action Group was the first to take this matter up seriously and bring it to the notice of the High Court. This was when the Government declared a one-time amnesty to the violators whereby all defaults would be condoned by the payment of a fine. This by itself was questionable as money does not set right environmental wrongdoing but what was ironic was that the Government repeatedly sought to extend the deadline for the amnesty. And when the High Court struck down the amnesty, the Government sought to issue an ordinance whereby a status quo would be maintained on all illegal structures. If this was not an instance of Government protecting law-breaking builders, what else can be?

Despite several judgements by the High Court and the Supreme Court, all in favour of sealing and demolishing the illegal structures, no action was taken under some pretext or the other. One of the most laughable excuses given by the Government was that the interests of hawkers would be affected. This despite the fact that no judgement even mentioned hawkers and violations were all by big names in business. And when the matter of T Nagar’s congestion was ever discussed, the suggested solutions took the presence of these illegal buildings for granted and always tried to work around the problem rather than tackle it head on. An example was the now aborted plan of building aerial walkways to provide easy access to all the shopping establishments.

Now that some action has been taken, what is ironic is that everyone involved in the constructions is taking credit for the sealing and demolition. The CMDA, the Corporation, the real estate developers and builders are all claiming that they have always been calling for punitive action against errant property developers. There is also a section of the media, which is trying to drum up sympathy for the workers who have lost their livelihood with the establishments being closed down. The owners of the affected establishments are seeing a way out of the mess by using this as a convenient excuse. This is an instance of taking up the right cause for a wrong reason. The future of the poor workers is at stake and for that the Labour Ministry in the State has to intervene and ensure that suitable compensation has to be paid to those losing their jobs. The shops and outlets cannot be reopened on the pretext of the workers not getting their wages.

The last chapter in this drama is yet to be written. The commercial establishments are sure to try and find a way out. And yet nobody appears to have to learnt a lesson from T Nagar. Other parts of the city, Mylapore, Purasawalkam and Adyar are rapidly commercialising and it appears that no check is being applied in these localities either. Does it have to require the intervention of the Court in each and every instance?

Inglis # 13

Thank God it is not blouse

Short and Snappy dated 16th November 2011

Never the Twain shall meet

The Man from Madras Musings, like Portia, thinks that there is music in the heavens. After all December is just around the corner and the Sabhas must be limbering their muscles even as the musicians clear their throats. It was rather appropriate then that a foreign country that is celebrating a certain number of years of association with ours (MMM forgets the exact number) chose to have an orchestra from back home to perform a few Western classical pieces. Now, that is a form of music that MMM loves, though rather regretfully he understands very little of it.

The programme outdid MMM’s expectations but as the event progressed, what impressed MMM even more was the audience behaviour. Exemplary would have been an understatement. Not a single cell-phone rang, not a throat was cleared repeatedly, no rustle of newspapers, no steady chomp-chomp of food being surreptitiously eaten, no crackle of plastic covers and above all no steady drone of conversation. It was amazing. The programme was only for an hour and a half and yet nobody got up in between to shuffle off to the toilets. And when the clock struck eight, the general exodus, in answer to the call of the TV serial was also absent. What exactly had contributed to this sudden adoption of best-behavioural practices?

But that this was no permanent change was made amply clear the very next time that MMM attended an Indian music concert at the same venue, just a few days later. The same faces were in attendance, for after all, the art-loving population of the city is a small one and to quote from the newspapers, “all the usual suspects were present.” And as though to make up for what had been missed in the earlier event, the nuisance value was at its highest. The mikes, which had behaved themselves in the previous instance, chose to let out sudden shrieks. The sound-man, who was servile in the extreme to the performers from abroad was truculent in his response. And the audience resorted to all its usual misdemeanours. And yet, the artiste performed with a serene smile right through, even when half the hall upped and left rather like Cinderella, when the clock struck the happy hour. Had he been in the artiste’s place, MMM would have at least considered hurling a slipper or two at their retreating backs.

What exactly contributes to this behavioural swing? According to a senior industrialist with whom MMM discussed the matter, this is not much different from our kinsmen refraining from spitting or littering when they go abroad, only to come back and resume their usual (mal)practices.

Mega releases

Before you assume that that heading refers to something from the film world, the Man from Madras Musings would like to inform you that he rarely watches films. This has to do with an audio CD release, which was accompanied with as much fanfare as a film premiere. Star-studded is the only word. A few years ago, a CD release was a simple matter. You saw an advertisement in the paper and went and bought the recorded music from the nearest outlet. But now you need special events for each of these launches, even though this silicon disc is fast fading away, being replaced by other and better media options.

But to get back to the audio release. Taking a leaf from the cricket events where the prize cheque is blown up several times and gifted to the winner in a size more akin to a vast outdoor hoarding, the event managers evidently decided that something akin to this must be done in the present case too. And so, when the time came for the release of the CD, what should MMM see but that a huge container, at least five feet by four feet was brought on to stage by a couple of burly individuals and handed over to the Chief Guest, who being of venerable age, staggered under the load. The other guests on stage, along with the artiste whose work was being launched had to rally round to support him and the container, which threatened to topple over and flatten all of them in one shot.

Once everyone had attained some semblance of balance, the Chief Guest made ready to open the container, which was fitted with two doors rather like a cupboard. He managed to open one, and then it was held on by one of the other guests and then he went across to open the other door which was then held open by another dignitary on the “dias” (as is often pronounced in our city). By then the audience was tittering gently, for such being the size of the doors, everyone barring the Chief Guest had gone completely behind the container. The photographers were clamouring for them to come out but who could leave this huge container to stand on its own?

The Chief Guest then decided to go “back stage” so to speak, by which MMM means the container. He had no doubt wanted to lend a helping hand but the net result was that everyone had vanished behind the CD rack and all that you could detect of any human presence on the stage were a few finger tips, desperately clutching the container and hoping it would not topple over. It was almost as though a CD had decided to launch itself and was in the process of doing so, sans any human assistance. Being rather close to the stage, MMM could head embarrassed whispers among those covered by the monstrous CD case and evidently a heated debate was in progress as to who should be the first to emerge from behind. Everyone wanted to leave simultaneously but the container lurched alarmingly to one side making all the guests having to support it once more.

Matters appeared to have reached an impasse when the burly individuals who had brought the rack on to the stage decided to help and took over. Order was restored and the sheepish dignitaries emerged into the spotlight once more. The photographers became busy, those on stage beamed (no doubt with relief) and the audience duly clapped. Thunderous applause would be a better term and no doubt they were expressing their appreciation for having been provided extra entertainment.

Evidently what is right for cricket is not appropriate for Carnatic Music.

A slice of Mount Road

A part history of Mount Road -http://xsreal.com/blog/?p=43

The Sabha Culture of Chennai

Historically the word Sabha may have meant a congregation of people for various reasons but in modern parlance it stands for any organisation that supports the performing arts. It began as a uniquely Chennai phenomenon and from then on spread to first other parts of what was then Madras Presidency and later to the rest of India.

Chennai was uniquely positioned for the birth of such a concept. When Chennai or Madras first came into existence in 1639, the performing arts were dependent exclusively on the patronage of the rulers, landholders and noblemen. They held private soirees to which their intimate friends were invited or on occasion sponsored public performances in temples or open spaces where the ordinary folk could attend. Temple festivals and weddings in the houses of the rich were occasions when people could attend these performances without invitation.

As Chennai grew, it was not possible for any one person to take on the role of patron. Thus it was that from the 1850s onwards, groups of well-to-do persons got together and organised performances. These were informal gatherings where the fee for the performers were borne by the organisers and the venue being a public space was free of cost. Audiences did not buy tickets and during the performance a plate was passed around so that those who voluntarily wished to contribute could do so. Such collections were handed over to the performers in full.

A very egalitarian form of entertainment was the Harikatha which involved the telling of a moralistic or religious story to the accompaniment of music and dance. These recitals involved multiple languages and plenty of emotion of which humour was the dominant element. Not surprisingly this found great favour with the public and the first few Sabhas of Chennai were formed keeping only the Harikatha in mind. The Bhakti Marga Prasanga Sabha was formed exclusively for Harikatha performances by only one artiste – Tanjavur Krishna Bhagavatar who is considered to be the progenitor of the art form. It was only when he was not available that other artistes were considered. The Sri Krishna Gana Sabha (an earlier organisation with the same name as the present one) and the Sarada Sangeetha Sabha also operated on similar lines. An exception was the Tondaimandalam Sabha which was perhaps the first in the city, having come into existence in the 1880s. Led by C Muniswami Naidu, its energetic secretary, it operated from the Tondaimandalam School on Mint Street and organised music performances and pioneered the concept of Rama Navami and Gokulashtami festival series.

In 1887, the Tondaimandalam Sabha introduced ticketing, with disastrous results. For a concert by Maha Vaidyanatha Sivan tickets were sold and when the artiste reached the venue he found several of those who had come empty-handed to listen to him being turned away. On coming to know of the reason Sivan, highly incensed at his performance being “sold” thus, cancelled his concert and repaired to the Parthasarathy Swami temple in Tiruvallikeni and sang there for free, for three evenings in succession. Plate collections came to Rs 750, a princely sum; far exceeding what any Sabha could have given him. The ticketing experiment was temporarily shelved but soon revived and became the norm.

With the demand for Carnatic music performances on the rise, more Sabhas came into existence. Over the years some sabhas vanished. One of these was the Tondaimandalam Sabha which apparently had very well-informed and rather aggressive audiences. When the percussionist slipped on the beat, the audience booed him and made him stand and play on the mridangam for the rest of the performance by way of punishment. The Sri Parthasarathy Swami Sabha came up in Tiruvallikeni in 1900. It was established by Manni Tirumalachar, holding its performances in the MKT School and later at the Hindu High School in Triplicane. Today it is the oldest surviving Sabha in the city.

Mylapore, which is today the centre for Carnatic music was rather late in having its own Sabha. But by 1905 Luz and its environs had developed into a posh residential locality with several top-ranking lawyers and judges building their palatial residences there. The Mylai Sangeetha Sabha came up in response to this elite audience in 1919. Despite its high profile clientele, it was a rather rough and ready Sabha, operating out of the Vanniyar School on narrow Nadu Street. The thatch-roofed assembly hall of the school was the venue for concerts held every Sunday afternoon. The performances were timed to begin before the inauspicious rahukalam and lasted four-and-a-half hours. Seating for audiences was on the floor with a rope dividing the men from the women. Answering nature’s call, for musicians and audiences meant relieving themselves behind a conveniently located jackfruit tree. Tickets were an accepted practice and season tickets at the Sabha cost 25 paise. Artistes were welcomed on arrival with a bottle of soda and a packet of a mix that soothed the throat. Concerts were held in a friendly atmosphere with members of the audience shouting out requests and the musicians obliging them. By 1924 making a name at the Mylai Sangeetha Sabha was considered very important among the artiste fraternity. The venue was not without its perils for the thatch housed a family of scorpions members of which would fall on the assembled throng causing much uproar.

The arrival of the Music Academy in 1928, following a resolution passed at the All India Music Conference that was held the previous year in Chennai, saw a new type of Sabha. Supported largely by professionals in various fields, it pioneered the concept of a registered body with byelaws to foster the arts. It also pioneered the December Music Season, a unique Chennai festival of fine arts that lasts from mid-November to end January when over sixty organisations conduct over 2000 programmes. These organisations have played a key role in providing patronage for the arts in the post-independence era when state sponsored patronage began to wane. Tickets are sold for performances by senior and established artistes while juniors are provided performing slots for which there is no admission fee. This ensures that seniors as well as juniors in the field are given opportunities. The sabha is thus truly an egalitarian concept, where without any governmental help, the arts are provided sustenance entirely through private initiative.

Palani as a shrine for music

Palani is a hallowed kshetra, being one of the Arupadaiveedu- the six sacred shrines associated with Muruga/Karthikeya/Subrahmanya. This is a hill temple, located on the eponymous hillock, which stands 1500 feet over sea level. Palani is also known as Tiruavinankudi because of the town of the same name located at the foot of the hill. Here there is a vast and ancient temple dedicated to Murugan where he is seen as a child seated on a peacock.

Murugan on the hill is in the form of Andi – one who has renounced the entire world. The principal deity is two armed, clad in just a loin cloth, shaven headed and carrying a staff in one hand. Because of the last attribute, the Lord here is also known as Dhandayudhapani. Legend has it that a divine fruit was offered by Lord Shiva to whichever of his two sons went around the world in the shortest possible time. Muruga embarked on his peacock, quite confident that Ganesha with his portly form and the rat for a mount would never be able to achieve it. Even as Muruga flew around the earth, Ganesha simply circumambulated his parents, stating that they were the world to him. He consequently got the fruit. When Muruga returned, he was enraged at what he felt was Ganesha’s trickery. He promptly renounced the world and decided to meditate on a hilltop. At the same time, the sage Agastya was moving South for his meditation and asked his giant of a disciple Idumban to carry two hillocks from the North, to be placed at whichever spot the sage chose for his hermitage. Idumban slung the two hillocks from a bamboo frame suspended across his shoulder and began marching south. At a particular spot he felt tired and having set the two hillocks down he rested. Muruga appeared at that moment and settled on one of the two. When Idumban rose to leave he could not lift the hillocks. A fierce battle ensued between Muruga and Idumban in which the latter was killed and later restored to life. He requested Muruga of two boons – the first was that the Lord would be propitiated by anyone who would carry the kavadi – a symbolic representation of his act of carrying the two hillocks. The second was that he, Idumban would stay guard over the entrance to the Lord’s shrine. These were granted and even today the kavadi is a frequently adopted practice, with devotees bringing votive offerings slung on their shoulders or simple bearing a palanquin like structure. The kAvaDi chindu is a folk-music form that is therefore associated with Murugan shrines. The temple for Idumban stands halfway up the hill. Shiva and Parvati came in search of their son and appeased him by saying that to them he (ni in the second person) was the fruit (Pazham). The shrine became Palani.

The main idol of Muruga in the temple is believed to have been fashioned out of nine poisons (navapashanam) by Bhoga Siddhar. The idol is therefore said to have remarkable curative properties and great is the demand for the panchamritams and other unguents with which it is anointed. Today the idol is said to be in a fragile state consequent to repeated ritual bathing. The processional idol is that of an endearing child. Palani town and shrine are bustling centres today, ever thronged by pilgrims. Though most people prefer to climb the hill, there is also a winch service. There are festivals galore at this pilgrim town. In March/April, Panguni Uthiram is celebrated for ten days at the Tiruavinankudi shrine, when the processional deity of that temple, Muthukumaraswami, is brought out on a series of mounts in the company of his consorts. In October/November is celebrated Kanda Shashti. This is a six-day festival and the processional deity from Palani Hill, known as Chinna Kumarar is taken out in processions. Thai Poosam is observed in January/February. Kavadis are taken out on nearly all days of the year and during the festivals, the numbers go up.

Palani has been a centre for the arts from time immemorial. As a shrine to Muruga it has fostered Tamil as a classical language. In his Tirumurgatruppadai, Nakkeerar sings of Palani as being the third of the six Arupadai Veedu. Arunagirinatha, in the 15th century has sung around 95 verses on the Palani temple. This group begins with the popular nAdavindukalAdi namO nama. The verses mention either Avinankudi or Palani. shivanArmanam kuLira is a popular stanza from this set as also is apakAra nindai.

Among the Carnatic Trinity, it was Muttuswami Dikshitar who travelled to Palani. He dedicated his daNDAyudhapANim in Ananda bhairavi to the deity. This is a grand composition and in the caraNam Dikshitar performs worship using the five elements as his ingredients. His composition is in chaste Sanskrit but Murugan being essentially a Tamil deity, it is in that classical language that the bulk of songs on Palani are composed.

Perhaps the most prolific composer on Palani after Arunagirinatha is the little-known Doraiswami Kavirayar who lived in Madras in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He composed 59 kirtanais on the deity and these are known as Palani Andavar kirtanais. He also composed verses in formats such as vENba, kaliturai, pAmAlai, antAdi and padigam. These compositions came to the fore in the 1940s when the Tamil Isai Movement gained ground. The faculty of the Annamalai University had much to with compiling compositions in Tamil. A prominent contributor to this effort was the vainika VS Gomathisankara Iyer who collected all the songs of Doraiswami Kavirayar with notation. Iyer also composed songs and two of his varnams are on Palani. The one in asAvEri/Adi is featured here.

Papanasam Sivan is a name that needs no introduction. This vaggEyakAra of the 20th century has left us several wonderful compositions on Palani. Perhaps the most famous one is kA vA vA in varALi, a song that gained prominence thanks to the mellifluous rendition of Madurai Mani Iyer. The lyricist Periasami Tooran also created several songs on Palani as did the late 20th century composer D Pattammal. Another prolific composer on Palani was Kovai Subri.

Interestingly, Palani has also had a powerful performing tradition in percussion. Palani Rangappayyar was a name to contend with in percussion as were the father-son duo of Palani Muthiah Pillai and Subramania Pillai. Today, a nagaswaram college, perhaps the only one of its kind flourishes in this town.

No write-up on Palani can be complete without mention of KB Sundarambal, the theatre artiste, Carnatic singer and film personality. She was practically synonymous with her song –Pazham nI appA. She was deeply attached to this temple and was a frequent visitor.

This was written as a sleeve note for CDW’s album on Palani, sung by Prasanna Venkataraman