2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

19,000 people fit into the new Barclays Center to see Jay-Z perform. This blog was viewed about 110,000 times in 2012. If it were a concert at the Barclays Center, it would take about 6 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

I just want to thank everyone who has encouraged me with their visits, comments, likes and private emails. I have learnt from everyone and I appreciate that it is all done out of a love for the heritage of Chennai/Madras and Carnatic music.

For the love of cricket…

This morning The Hindu carried a nice write-up on my friend VV Sankapani.

I was delighted at this, for it is high time that someone like him was recognised in some way. For Sanku, as we all refer to him, is a lover of cricket, and that is understating it a bit. Cricket is Sanku’s lifeblood, his breath of life and his very being. And he has always been amazingly good at it.

I have known Sanku practically from the cradle, we both joined in the LKG at Vidya Mandir in 1969. As the years went by, our characters crystallised. There were some fantastic all-rounders in our class, who excelled in everything. Then there were one track minds in which category you could put Sanku and me. The only difference was that I was wholly and solely into the arts, language and history, while Sanku was entirely into sports.

Even today, give me a ball and I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I assume Sanku reacts the same way with a paint brush. But he was outstanding in sports, particularly cricket. And when we grew up, he followed his passion. He never played for the state or went national and I dont know what goes into the selection of people for such things (I bet Sanku has no clue as to how Sabhas select musicians either). But he enjoyed his time playing for Alwarpet and such like and indulged in his love for cricket to the hilt. He may not be the kind that is besieged for autographs but when a tally is made of those to whom cricket meant everything to the exclusion of all else, his name will be there. It is people like him as much as the stars who make a game. Now Sanku acts as a liaison man for visiting teams and continues his love for the game.

Even today it is possible to see Sanku jogging or cycling around Nageswara Rao Park. At a time when his compatriots such as me are thinking about hypertension, jelly in the belly and other such problems, Sanku remains fit as a fiddle. We meet once in a while and each has a vague idea about the other’s area of specialisation. But our affection for each other has remained undiminished. Long may Sanku remain fit and keep the flame of true cricket burning.

One of the V’s in Sanku’s name stands for Vembaukkam, the village that gave a number of legal luminaries to Madras – Sir V Bhashyam Iyengar, VV Srinivasa Iyengar, Sir VC Desikachari, VC Seshachari, VC Gopalarathnam and so on. All of them were pillars of Mylapore as well. Sanku may have propped the village up with a pair (or is it a trio) of stumps but he is one of the pillars of Mylapore anyway.

Manna, My Friend

In the passing of Manna Srinivasan, the world of Carnatic Music has lost a friend. I think it was Nagarathnamma who once said that just as everyone cannot get into a palanquin for it needs bearers, music too needs rasikas, everyone cannot be a performer. Manna was a rasika and more importantly, a person who did service for music.

When I say service, it was the kind that Appar did –without expecting anything in return. Manna was the man who kept in touch with all artistes. He counted among his close friends numerous nagaswaram and tavil artistes in particular and of course several dance masters and nattuvanars who had long languished in obscurity. And as I often teased him, he was pally with numerous dancers too! But in all these friendships, Manna’s was the hand that gave, for he spent his time usefully in Delhi, ensuring that the powers-that-be got to know of deserving and hitherto unrecognised talents in the far south. Manna remained single and his home in Delhi was where every artiste was welcome – to stay, raid his well-stocked fridge and rehearse. The door was never locked.

In physical form, Manna was an ever-smiling presence. Clad in white kurta, trousers, with several rudraksha malas hanging from his neck and a jolna bag well stocked with eats on the shoulder, he could bring joy even to a conference of undertakers. A high-pitched voice, often breaking into laughs, a rapid-fire way of speaking and an energy-packed tiny form was his ensemble. He had a joke for every occasion. His way of greeting was to slap you on the back. He did that once to me when I was having a severe lumbar problem and was greeted in return with characteristic rudeness. But he did not mind. After that he would merely hover his hand over my back with a slapping gesture and if I said OK, his hand would formally descend. It was a joke between us.

I would know when Mannna was in town for the Sruti office phones would be eternally busy. As I often pulled his leg, all the dancers were looking for Manna in the wilderness! There would be a big smile on the faces of Janaki, Sudha and others at the Sruti office whenever he was around. He had the distinct designation of Roving Editor!

Each Season, Manna was a face I would look forward to. He would be at the Academy lecdems, at the SKGS Natya Kala Conference and several other places, encouraging the young and keeping the fading ones in good cheer. When he got to know last year that TR Navaneetham was receiving the TTK Award at the Music Academy, his joy was as though someone in his family had received it. The last few years had not been kind to his health but a positive thinker like he made light of it. And now he has gone. Adieu sweet friend and may flights of angels sing thee to thine rest.

The Tree Lady

I ran into Shobha Menon at a wedding sometime in November. We were meeting after quite a while. Last heard she was off to the Institute of Mental Health in Kilpauk. Upon my asking her what she was up to now, she replied brightly that she was leaving the next day for the Cuddalore Prison.

Before you run away with the idea that this friend of mine is a psychopath who after a stint at an asylum is being finally brought to justice, let me assure you that she is anything but that. In fact she is as normal as several of my other friends, though that is not saying much according to Sarada.

But let us get back to the Shobha story. We were first introduced when I was writing Carnatic Summer. Paddu the publisher pronounced that she would be the editor and so from then on we became close friends. I was flooded as time went to with calls that went something like this: “Ayyo Sriram, why should this Ariyakkudi do like this illa?” or “This Papa Venkataramiah looks such as paavam character” or “Ayyo Sriram, this Mali was really mad” etc. Shobha was very pally in real life with MS and DKP, being neighbour to the former in Kotturpuram and therefore living not far from DKP either. MS by then was too far gone but DKP was all game for trying all kinds of Mallu snacks that Shobha would take across.

Post Carnatic Summer, Shobha bade goodbye to the world of editing. Her first love was always Nature. Her husband was (and is) a pillar of the Madras Naturalists Society and daughter Sneha decided to major in something do with forests which I forget and is now well on her way to a PhD. Son Nishant wanted to be cricketer and wound up in hotel management. In short, a rather different family, not the conventional “My son is an engineer, my daughter is a CA etc.”

In September 2005, Shobha launched Nizhal, an NGO for saving trees and promoting greenery. Hers is not a Chipko kind of movement. She believes in educating (!!!!!) Government servants and public officials on saving tree cover. For a while Shobha had been helping Muthiah on some of his work and in this connection she had become very close to everyone in the Corporation, and in true Shobha style this was from chaprasi to top boss, in that order. Everyone knew Shobha, the rather strange lady who wanted to save trees. But such being her gentle nature, they all gave her a patient hearing. Not that it changed them a wee bit. Even as they smiled at her and gave her government regulation tea, they would cut down trees by the dozen, for road widening or by the hundreds for Assembly (sorry Hospital, sorry expunge that, it is all sub judice) construction. But somewhere it began to have some effect. The Corporation began calling her for advice on parks and the one near the Madras Club, on the banks of the Adyar, definitely owes its existence to her, though she wont claim any credit.

The public also began to know Shobha when she began doing tree walks. She would get experts on the subject to conduct guided tours in well-wooded areas such as My Ladye’s Garden, the Government Estate (before the sub judice nameless structure gobbled everything up) and the Museum Compound. These have had an effect too. Last month, a couple of residents of Adyar noticed that Corporation workers were preparing to uproot two trees in their neighbourhood. Protests were of limited use and then Shobha was called in. The drainage for which the trees had to go, were re-routed and laid around them and so some foliage was saved. Shobha is the person to call when you need advice on trees. Or when you need to mourn the passing of one. When the 45 year old mango tree in my garden keeled over one morning for no reason and died, it was Shobha to whom I turned, to weep over its passing.

Now what does Shobha do in prison? Plenty. She has been consulting with several of our state prisons to get them to put their vast acreage to good effect. Ditto with the Kilpauk Institute of Mental Health. Now, thanks to her efforts, these spaces are going green. Kitchen gardens are booming in the prisons and one of them has sold over Rs 4.00 lakh worth of vegetables, all organic mind you. In another prison, Nizhal has taught prisoners how to make bio-pesticides and they are supplying these to other prisons. Shobha hopes that some day the prisons will be allowed to market their surplus produce.

Nizhal is of course not Shobha alone. She now has several experts who help her when needed and several volunteers as well. How does she manage I ask. To discuss this I invited her over to the Madras Club where she spent most of the time talking about the trees in the place. Her fondest memory she told me is of a sarakkonrai tree near her childhood home in Chintadripet. I finally bring her round to the subject of finance. And that finally is when she says that Nizhal could do with a lot more money, most of its rather small budget now being financed by the members themselves and a few donors. “We need a full-time coordinator,” she says. And travelling to all these places, from loony bins to jugs, everything costs money. I have promised to do my bit. If you too feel like doing something, please see what Nizhal has to offer and then decide.

For more on Shobha and Nizhal read -http://www.theweekendleader.com/Nature/686/Tree-lover.html

Adieu to Balu

In the passing of KV Balu, or Hindu Balu as he was better known, the world has firstly lost a wonderful human being. That is the most irreplaceable loss. Among the many who will feel his absence will be the Music Academy of which he was Committee Member for years. He will be missed by his family and of course friends like me.

I got to know Balu as the man who would wear a Mysore Maharajah-like turban on the inaugural day of the Music Academy season each year. I was introduced by someone to him and we became friends. But that was the way it was with Balu, everybody who made his acquaintance became his friend. He kept in touch, got to know your family members and bound himself to your heart with hoops of steel as I believe the expression is. He was a man of limitless cheer and that kept getting him more friends. You never caught Balu grumbling about money, power failures, traffic jams, garbage, corruption or even health problems. He remained smiling through it all and preferred to look at the positive.

As I got to know more of him, I came to realise that he was a legend by himself in the world of advertising. Everyone knew Balu. It was said of him that when he was in service, the advertising department in The Hindu had to just whisper to him that a certain space would be empty weeks from now and he would ensure that it was filled with an ad. A phone call from Balu to some top industrialist would do they would say. It was no wonder that he was sent to Bombay by the newspaper and he spent several years there, making it known that it paid to advertise in it. And when colour was introduced in the paper, he brought in many advertisements as well. Balu for his part, never spoke of all this. He attributed everything that he had learnt in the business to G Narasimhan, father of N Ram, N Murali and N Ravi. Each year, on GN’s date of passing, Balu would at his own expense, publish a photo of the former in the paper, by way of his tribute. Balu cherished his Hindu years and kept with him an album that contained all his precious memories of his time with the paper. This included his appointment letter as well.

In the Music Academy, Balu was to fulfill a similar role. He was responsible for getting the souvenir filled up with advertisements, year after year. And once again he would use his contacts for it, in his gracious, non-pushy way. But my favourite memories of him at the MA are two- Firstly, he was the prime-mover in getting the MA to perform a Ganapathy Homam each year before the season. This was after the MA emerged from its court cases in 2005. He would organise the homam and be there much before everyone on the morning in which it was conducted. Secondly, he would ensure that right through the Season, all the volunteers had had their food and several times feed them at his own expense. The same affection extended to the boy scouts and the staff who took care of the services – the toilets, the back stage, the corridors – matters that the usual concert-goer takes for granted. He believed that keeping the staff and volunteers happy made the MA a happy place. There was another aspect to Balu – he never lobbied for getting his relatives concert slots at the MA. And there was never any dearth of talented people in his family.

Navaratri at Balu’s house was always special. With wife Vijaya taking pains to put up a spectacular display of dolls, some several years old. When he asked me to attend it one year, I was most reluctant and said that it was a ladies function. “Nee vaayya,” he said. “The snacks will be good. Anyway your wife is invited and so what does it cost you to also come?” I went and found that kolus in his house were some kind of high point in the social calendar. I can never forget one year when Vijay Siva had also come. At Balu’s request he agreed to sing and I then made bold to ask him to sing Dikshitar’s paradEvata. It was a wonderful experience. Immediately after Vijay left, we had Balu’s sister and brother-in-law, Charumati and Trichur V Ramachandran singing viruttams from Narayaneeyam, followed by a song on Krishna.

For me, the 2011 Season at the MA did not have its usual gaiety because Balu was absent, fighting his last battle valiantly. The end came on the 18th of January. Adieu Balu! I know you will expect us to keep smiling, but it is not all that easy as you made it appear my friend.