15th century sculptor’s scale found

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15th century sculptor’s scale found S. Ganesan

It has been carved on the lower part of the basement of the vimana of Kallazhagar temple

A TRIBUTE: A sculpture of Uranga Villi Dasan, who had renovated the main vimana of the Kallazhagar temple.

TIRUCHI: A 15th century sculptor’s scale has been found in the main vimana of the Kallazhagar temple at Azhagarkoil, near Madurai.

The scale was found by research scholars of the Dr. M. Rajamanikkanar Centre for Historical Research, Tiruchi, during an explorative study.

According to R. Kalaikkovan, director of the centre, a close study of the main vimana revealed the scale, carved on the lower part of the basement. Two plus marks, separated by 76 centimetres, are noted on the southern part of the ‘upana’ (base).

An inscription copied from the temple in 1930 says Thirumaliruncholai Ninran Mavali Vanadarayan Uranga Villi Dasan, a feudal lord who had ruled the region in 1469 AD, had renovated the main vimana from the ‘upana’ to the ‘stupi.’ Thiruvalan Somayaji, an official who had executed the work to the satisfaction of the king, was gifted with a village, Kulamangalam, as a tax-free property. Another inscription copied from the basement of the west wall of the ‘Thayar’ shrine mentions the name of a measure carved below as ‘Thirumalirucholai Ninran Mavali Vanadarayan Mathrankulam.’

Based on the two inscriptions, one may conclude that the sculptor’s scale discovered at the basement of the main vimana was used by sculptors of the 15th century to build the unique and ornamental vimana, says Dr. Kalaikkovan.

One of the embellished stone windows is depicted with a sculpture of an individual in a seated posture, with two attendants on either side. V. Vedachalam, an archaeologist of Madurai who accompanied the scholars, identified him as Uranga Villi Dasan, who renovated the vimana.

A mirror to human nature

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A mirror to human nature

SUGANTHY KRISHNAMACHARI

Five of Devan’s titles were released at the 95th birth anniversary celebration.

Photo: K. V. Srinivasan

PRINTED AGAIN: Devan’s books were released recently. At the function (Top, from left) Ashokamitran, columnist Vannanilavan, Badri Seshadri of Kizhakku Pathippagam and Viswanathan of Devan Trust.

A function was recently organised by Devan Trust and Kizhakku Pathippagam at Smt. Sivagamy Pethachi Auditorium to mark the 95th birth anniversary of Tamil author Devan. New editions of five of Devan’s titles were released on the occasion by writer Ashokamitran. Vannanilavan, who has written extensively on Devan in the Tamil magazine Tuglaq, received the copies.

Ashokamitran said that Devan tried his hand at every kind of writing — short story, novel, travelogue and reporting and analysis of news. During the Second World War, Devan wrote Yudha Diary, which gave a brilliant analysis of the war, making Ananda Vikatan one of the best sources for war news.

Devan’s books always ended on a positive note. He would put his characters in all kinds of difficult situations, but in the end he would untie all the knots and end the story on an optimistic note. Badri Seshadri of Kizhakku Pathippagam proposed a vote of thanks.

Devan’s ‘Parvathiyin Sankalpam,’ was read by the members of Gurukulam Boys Company, which transported the audience back to the 1950s.

Although it was only a play reading, the excellent voice modulation of the artists made the story come alive.

A quick glance at the titles:

Justice Jagannathan

Devan wrote this when the jury system was still in vogue in India. We are first introduced to the jurors, who are themselves colourful characters. Varadaraja Pillai is in the dock for the murder of his father in law. Devan, who served as editor of Ananda Vikatan for many years, must have had experience in legal reporting, and this is evident in the trial scenes. The book is taut with suspense, and one is left guessing till the end about the innocence or otherwise of Varadaraja Pillai.

Lakshmi Kataksham

Kantamani, the beautiful daughter of Pasupathi Pillai, is ill-treated by her step mother, who wants her to marry a rich, old philanderer. Kantamani gets a reprieve as childhood friend Duraisami marries her. But her troubles are far from over. Lakshmi Kataksham is about the trials and tribulations Kantamani faces in life. A touching story, evocative of an innocent era, in which, family ties and even loyalty to the company one worked for, guided one’s decisions in life.

Kalyani

For Sundaram, it is love at first sight, when he sees Kalyani. He follows her to Kumbakonam. Kalyani’s grandfather had married young Alamelu, shortly before his death. Everyone in the household tries to lay their hands on the jewels that rightfully belong to Kalyani. Sundaram, who cannot stand by and watch his beloved’s jewels being stolen, jumps into the fray. The story is reminiscent of the sort of hilarious mix up one finds in PGW’s Blandings Castle stories.

Mr. Vedantham

His father’s death comes as a jolt for Vedantham, who has been frittering away money and neglecting his studies. Now it is a mountain of debts he faces. Without wealth or a college degree he lands in Madras, which teaches him lessons. The beauty of the book is that it holds a mirror to human selfishness and envy, without being preachy or soppy.

C.I.D.Chandru

Chandru, a confirmed bachelor, is a man whose keen observation makes him a kind of local Sherlock Holmes. His deductive abilities help him solve the case of the stolen bag. What does the bag contain? Why was it stolen? And why do different characters in the story have different stories about the bag? Chandru solves all these puzzles. A racy read, with Devan’s characteristic humour.

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Man of few words

Photo: K. V. Srinivasan

Vannanilavan.

He should be given an award for refusing awards. But then he would probably turn that down too. He craves anonymity, has stage fright, and is a man of few words. How few I realise, as he answers in monosyllables.

Vannanilavan, whose real name is Ramachandran, however, sheds his diffidence and gentleness when he writes. His column in the magazine Tuglaq, which he writes under the name Durvasar, is famous for its zing and sting. Why did he choose the pseudonym Durvasar? “Cho gave me the name, because I get very angry when I see any injustice.”

His film reviews in Tuglaq in the 70s and 80s under the title ‘Post Mortem,’ were just as harsh as his Duravasar column. Did his reviews lead to trouble for him? “Not always. I must mention Sp. Muthuraman’s sporting spirit. He once asked me why I had been mild in my criticism of one of his films. He said he liked the pungent tone of my reviews.”

Popular novels

Vannanilavan has written five novels and 90 short stories. His most popular novels are “Kadalpurathil” and “Rhenius’ Iyer Theru.” “Kadalpurathil” was inspired by the riots that broke out at Kulasekarapatnam, near Thoothukudi, when motor launches began to be used by some fishermen. Those who until a few days earlier had been friends, suddenly became divided into two camps — those with catamarans and the others with motor boats. “I was in Thoothukudi at the time, and these riots saddened me.” Kadalpurathil was the expression of that anguish.

“Rhenius’ Iyer Theru” is the story of the Christian families that live in Rhenius’ Street in Palayamkottai. “In Tirunelveli district, Christians refer to pastors as Iyer. In this novel, there is no dialogue. I have used only narration. It was well received.”

Vannanilavan happens to be one of the three dialogue writers for the film ‘Aval Appadithan,’ starring Kamalahasan and Sripriya.

Coming back to awards, has he ever accepted any? “Yes,” he says apologetically. “I was given the Tamil Nadu Government Award for my short story collection “Dharmam.” “Kadalpurathil” was given the Ilakkiya Chintanai Award. In 1997, I was conferred the Ramakrishna Dayal Award for Tamil literature, given by the Birlas.”

The awards he has turned down are more in number than the ones he’s accepted. But why this aversion? “Well, I feel, once a person has got an award or two, he should be content with that. Why should the same person get many awards? Young writers must be encouraged.”

And what does his family have to say? Vannanilavan recollects with a smile: “Once my wife received an award on my behalf. I was away at the time. When I learnt later that my wife had accepted the award, which I had refused, I was very angry, and fought with her. My children ask me if I am crazy to shun awards.”

“I never speak before an audience,” says Vannanilavan. And true to form he did not make a speech at the Devan Trust’s function.

‘Call me GNB’

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ENCORE

‘Call me GNB’

SRIRAM VENKATKRISHNAN

Most of his knowledge had been acquired by listening intently to music, assimilating it and later making it his own.

Star: G.N. Balasubramaniam

It was said of him that letters simply addressed as “GNB, Madras” would make their way to his residence, such being his star status. And considering that he frequently shifted home, this was no mean task.

The Prince Charming of Carnatic Music, G.N. Balasubramaniam, GNB to fans and friends, both of which were legion, presided over the annual conference of the Music Academy in 1958, exactly fifty years ago.

On January 1, 1959, the birudu and insignia of Sangita Kalanidhi was conferred on him and as befitting his stature “a large and distinguished gathering of musicians and music lovers was present at the P.S. High School pandal, where the function was held and cheered GNB” (The Hindu, January 2, 1959). It must be remembered here that the Academys’s present auditorium was still being built.

Guru-sishya relationship

The Governor of Kerala, Dr. B Ramakrishna Rao presided over the event and in his speech “stressed the value of guru-sishya relationship and said that the lack of that personal relationship between the teacher and the taught was responsible for the calamitous things that that had happened in the field of general education.”

It was rather ironic that the Governor chose guru-sishya relationship as the theme of his talk, for GNB was rather unique in that respect.

Barring his initial learning under his father G.V. Narayanaswami Iyer, some further training under Madurai Subramania Iyer and still later a couple years under Tiger Varadachariar, GNB hardly had any guru to speak of. Most of his knowledge had been acquired by listening intently to music, assimilating it and later making it his own, giving it his unique stamp by means of his great intellect.

New phenomenon

His briga based music was a new phenomenon in the world of Carnatic Music. In fact, the citation mentioned that with “a unique style of his own and a speedy virtuosity of voice he gained a large popularity and a school of followers and pupils.” Of course, not everyone felt comfortable with his music and some detractors even went to extent of calling it ‘English Sangeetham,’ owing to GNB possessing a BA (Hons) degree in English literature.

It is interesting to read that the Academy’s sadas began on that day with a prayer sung by KV Narayanaswami, then a rising star. It must have made up somewhat for the absence of KVN’s guru, Ariyakkudi Ramanuja Iyengar who was in those years not accepting any concert opportunities at the Music Academy. GNB must have missed Ariyakkudi keenly, for to him Ariyakkudi was the very embodiment of music.

Among the vidwans assembled on the occasion, mention must be made of GNB’s close friends, T Chowdiah and Palani Subramania Pillai. Both spoke on the occasion and Palani in his speech complimented GNB for the way in which he conducted the Academy’s annual conference that year. Madurai Mani Iyer too was present and said “that he was very happy that his friend GNB was honoured on the occasion. Whenever GNB and he met, they would be speaking for hours on the intricacies of music. The music of GNB was noted for its verve.” GNB was still a relative youngster and there were seniors present as well. Among them, Tiruvizhimizhalai Subramania Pillai (the first nagaswaram artist to be conferred the title of Sangita Kalanidhi) and Annasami Bhagavatar, the Harikatha exponent, spoke.

In his acceptance speech, GNB said that he owed his present position to “his father, Tiger Varadachariar and Sri Ramanuja Iyengar.” He must have remembered the early days when Ariyakkudi was a frequent visitor at home. That was a period when GNB’s speed of singing had worried his father no end and he had consulted Ariyakkudi about it. The latter had said that a natural voice should never be tampered with and had encouraged GNB to sing the way he felt best.

GNB had always prided himself on being an “Academy boy” for he had performed along with Tiger Varadachariar as early as 1932 when the Teachers College of Music was begun by the Academy. His speech therefore also paid tributes to the institution. He said that “The Expert Committee of the Music Academy was an august body and he had not had the courage to reject the offer of Presidentship of the conference.” He said that “art was big and an artist was a mere dwarf before a giant”.

Unknowingly or perhaps otherwise, GNB had also sparked off another revolution in Carnatic music, albeit a minor one. With him, the trend of referring to musicians by initials and not by village name began and his were perhaps the most famous initials among them all. And so he wound his speech up with the request that “the musically minded public would continue to call him “GNB””!

(The author can be contacted at srirambts@gmail.com)

‘Jagadaanandakaaraka’ — the invocation

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‘Jagadaanandakaaraka’ — the invocation

LAKSHMI DEVNATH

Containing 108 epithets of Rama, this kriti is of special significance. Bagula Panchami falls on January 15.

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Tyagaraja decides to reiterate that Rama is the creator, protector and destroyer of the Universe. He, of unparalleled form, shines as the hero of the Ramayana — a story marked by melody and compassion.

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Photo.R. Shivaji Rao

NADOPASANA: This painting adorns a wall of the Tyagaraja’s samadi at Tiruvaiyaru.

‘Jagadaanandakaaraka’ — one who makes the entire world happy. That is the opening phrase of a composition — a gem that sings the glories of Rama. Tyagaraja, the composer, chose to embed this jewel in Sanskrit and in the majestic raga Nattai. That Ghana raga was capable of projecting shades, brilliant and subtle. Tyagaraja further shaped the scale of the raga to discard the vivadi note — dhaivata. The other vivadi note Rishaba was handled with great sensitivity. The raga continued to retain its identity.

The song moves on — ‘Jaya Janaki Praana Naayaka.’ The auspicious word “Jaya” finds a place in the pallavi. Rama’s fame had been heightened by his marital association with Janaki. Not surprising. Wasn’t she the daughter of Janaka, reputed for his spiritual wisdom?

Ancestry of Rama

‘Gaganaadhipa Satkulaja…’ The anupallavi firmly establishes the distinguished ancestry of Rama. Just as the radiant sun presides over the skies, the brilliant kings of the Solar dynasty dazzled the earth. Adding to this effulgence was Rama, God in human form. An overwhelmed Tyagaraja sings that He is a “bhavya daayaka” — bestowing his devotees with all that is auspicious. Tyagaraja seals his claim and the anupallavi with the words “sada” (always) and “sakala” (everything).

The third segment of the composition begins. Ten charanams vie with each other to portray several aspects, mystic and musical. Raga nuances, swaras that caper, crisscross and group themselves in increasing and decreasing formations, effective use of octaves, mridangam jatis, quaint Sanskrit usages… all these communicate that Tyagaraja, the devotee, was also a consummate composer. For the opening notes of these charanams, the composer confines his options to Sa or Pa.

‘Amara Taaraka Nichaya Kumudahita …’ The musical phrase, in the first charanam, glides downwards from ‘Sa’ to briefly linger on ‘Pa’ of the lower octave. The poet in Tyagaraja seems to look up and perceive Rama as a moon amongst devas, shimmering like a cluster of stars. Rama is the wish-giving Kalpa tree, fulfilling their desires; he is the sum total of everything in the universe. And therefore, it seems natural for Tyagaraja to see Govinda in Rama and sing of him as, ‘Dadhi Payodhivaasa Harana’ — one who steals pots filled with milk and curds.

‘Nigama Neeraja Amrtaja…’ Rama, the Supreme is the One who nourishes the lotus-like Vedas, a part of which is the nectarine Samaveda, from which is born Nada — musical sound. The very next phrase is, ‘Animishavairi Vaarida Sameerana.’ Like wind effortlessly scattering away clouds, Rama whiffs away the demons.

The reverential rhapsody now shifts to describing Rama’s beautiful form. ‘Indraneelamani Sannibha Apaghana…’ His blue-hued body is like the Indraneelamani gem. The sun and the moon are his eyes and he lies on the fair serpent, Adisesha.

‘Paada Vijita Mauni Shaapa…’ The verse unfurls to provide a visual imagery of random events from the Baalakaanda of the Ramayana. A redeemed Akalya bows down to Rama. Rama accords Visvamitra the enviable status of his guru and learns from him a mantras that include the powerful Bala and Atibala. Tyagaraja slips further into his reverie. The primordial Lord, at the request of Brahma, had taken on a human form and along with that, innumerable trials and tribulations. In the face of them all, he had displayed exemplary grace and amazing stoicism.

‘Srishti Sthithi Antakaara…’ Tyagaraja decides to reiterate that Rama is the creator, protector and destroyer of the Universe. He, of unparalleled form, shines as the hero of the Ramayana — a story marked by melody and compassion.

In the next verse beginning, ‘Sajjana Maanasa…’ Tyagaraja decides to honour Hanuman, the peerless devotee of Rama. ‘Surasaaripu Karaabja Laalitacharana…’ Hanuman, the enemy of the gory demon, Surasa, caresses the feet of Rama with his lotus-like palms. In one masterful flourish, Tyagaraja showcases the contrasting attributes of Hanuman — strength and tenderness. Alongside shines the composer’s laudable talent for clarity in brevity.

Potent mantra

The composition nears its conclusion. Tyagaraja provides the world a clue to attain Rama. ‘Omkaara Panjarakeera…’ Like a parrot in a cage, Rama is trapped in the potent mantra, Omkaara. Thereafter, a set of lovely phrases follows that gives one glimpses of the Lord. Highlighting all these is the concept of Saranagati — unconditional surrender to the Lord.

It is now time for Tyagaraja to bring in Vaalmeeki, the author of the Ramayana. This Aadikavi, in Tyagaraja’s words is, “Kaveena” — king amongst poets. Tyagaraja further describes the poet as “Bilajamauni.” Found in a state of meditation in a Valmeeka, ant hill, the poet came to be called Vaalmeeki. Since, in Sanskrit, the anthill is also described as Sarpabila — the home of serpents, the poet in Tyagaraja may have used the phrase “Bilajamauni.”

“Purana Purusha… ” These mark the opening words of the penultimate charana. The Sanskrit word Puraana translates as, old yet new. The verse expands to describe that the eternal Lord, in his birth as Rama, had rid the world of Ravana and his clan. Ravana means one who makes everyone cry. Tyagaraja sings, “Khara, Viradha, Ravana Viravana…” Here, Tyagaraja’s usage of the word “Viravana” is uncanny. Rama had driven the entire Rakshasa clan including the mighty Ravana to tears.

Hailing the innumerable qualities of Rama, the composition draws to a close. In the last three charanams, Tyagaraja reiterates his devotion to Rama by bringing in the word, “Tyagarajanuta” in each of them.

‘Jagadaanandakaaraka,’ along with ‘Dudukugala,’ ‘Sadhinchene,’ ‘Kana kana ruchira’ and ‘Endaro Mahanubhavulu’ stands labelled, in a unique category, as Pancharatna — five gems. ‘Jagadaanandakaaraka’ is entirely invocatory containing 108 epithets of Rama. There are other sets of ‘five compositions.’ The late scholar, T.S. Parthasarathy opined that those be described as Panchakas and not Pancharatna-s. Pancharatna-s are sung as swara-sahitya (swara and lyrics). From the 1940s, these continue to be regularly sung at the Aradhana.

It is recorded that, in Tyagaraja’s time, there was a criticism that he lacked “swarajnaana” (knowledge of swaras) and that his compositions, devotional as they were, lacked musical value. The Pancharatna-s, imposing examples of musical and poetic architecture, belie any criticism. All five are veritable “Jagadaanandakaaraka—s”

Nottuswara Sahityam- Dikshitar and the English connection

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Dikshitar and the English connection

‘Vismaya’ features the composer’s songs inspired by the West

More to Dikshitar Kanniks Kannikeswaran and his daughter Vidita at the launch

You could call it ‘colonial fusion’. Nearly 200 years ago, a collection of Celtic folk songs, English waltzes, marches, jigs, and reels were set to Sanskrit verses by the well-known composer Muthuswami Dikshitar (1775-1835). Now this fascinating but virtually-unknown part of our cultural heritage has been brought to the fore by U.S.-based Kanniks Kannikeswaran with his new CD, Vismaya — Nottusvara Sahityas of Dikshitar.

Recently released in India, the CD is the first complete recording of Dikshitar’s songs, collectively known as the Nottusvara Sahityas. Kannikeswaran spent three years researching these old compositions, putting together 39 of them for this CD.

“While growing up in Georgetown in Madras, I heard the temple bands playing these songs, and was charmed by them,” says Kannikeswaran. “I even learnt five of them when I learnt Carnatic music as a child.”

Delightful

But it wasn’t until he began teaching these songs to his own daughter and other children in his neighbourhood in the U.S. that he realised just how delightful they were.

“I found that regardless of their mother tongue, all children enjoyed these lively waltzes and jigs,” he recalls. “I realised they needed to be recorded, so I began to research them.”

What he found was that Dikshitar had written Sanskrit lyrics to 39 Western tunes that had arrived on Indian soil (‘God Save the King’ for example, became ‘Santatam Pahimam’), a handful apparently at the behest of a British collector. “It’s not clear why he wrote the rest, but when you look at his lyrics for these compositions, they’re in no way inferior to what he wrote for heavier kritis,” comments Kannikeswaran.

Fittingly, the songs have been recorded by his 12-year-old daughter Vidita in the U.S. with Celtic orchestration. “It was a great learning experience,” he says. “The Celtic musicians especially were fascinated — they were like, how did these tunes get to India?”

That, indeed, is the most interesting aspect of it all, says Kannikeswaran: “‘Kamalasana Vandita’, for example, was originally a European tune that migrated to the U.K. before travelling to India and also to the U.S., where it became part of the Apalachian music tradition. The whole thing is a study in inclusion and globalisation.”

These are themes this alumnus of IIT-Madras has long been interested in. A business intelligence consultant and the founder of The American School of Indian Art in Cincinnati, he’s worked on other cultural projects such as ‘Shanti’, a raga-based choral work performed by the community choir of 150 voices, and temple.net, a website that provides information on some 2,000 Indian temples he’s researched on.

But Vismaya is particularly close to his heart. “The question I keep asking is how did I not know about these songs all along? I lived right there in Parry’s Corner where temple bands played them all the time,” he says.

“They are a chunk of our cultural history that’s simply not thought about.”

Vismaya is available at various retail outlets. Kannikeswaran can be reached at 98404-59225 or at kanniks@yahoo.com.

DIVYA KUMAR

The ghungroo spoke Birju Maharaj

SRI KRISHNA GANA SABHA

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The ghungroo spoke

RUPA SRIKANTH

MAESTRO Birju Maharaj demonstrated how every nuance in creation can be captured in rhythm.

Photo: S.R. Raghunathan

Electrifying presence : Birju Maharaj.

The aged and rather diminutive man, dressed in a white and gold churidar-kurta with a broad red belt, appeared silently on stage. His bright, twinkling eyes were the only give away as he struck a pose of Krishna with the flute. Yes, it was the legen dary dancer, Pandit Birju Maharaj, whose very presence seemed to electrify the atmosphere.

‘Krishna Vandana’ done, Birju greeted the audience and introduced the concept of rhythm. “The first rhythm that God made was in the heart... in man, bird, deer… In every rhythm, there is bhava. And everything has a beat — a bird flying, lighting a fire, sleeping...” He demonstrated examples of how every nuance in creation can be captured in rhythm. The improvisations in teen taal (16 beats) were translated into different expressions of ‘sparkling stars in the sky’ followed by rhythmic sequences visualised as a romantic jugalbandi between a man and a woman with the tabla representing the male and the ghungroos or ankle bells representing the female.

Spellbound rasikas

Pandit Birju brought a novel way of looking at a slow vilambit and a fast drut taal through a conversation between two friends, one lazy and the other active. He already had his rasikas in raptures, and when he enacted a tihai as the dialling of a number on the telephone with the ‘hello’ on the sam, he simply brought the roof down. And there was more to come.

Being a representative or rather an inheritor of the Lucknow Gharana’s abhinaya expertise, the legendary dancer took one line of a tumri, ‘Ja main tho se nahi bolungi,’ in which a gopi tells Krishna that she will not speak to him and gave it many-hued interpretations of annoyance, anger and flirtation. A gat bhav of Krishna’s butter stealing or Makhan Chori enacted to rhythm was also sensitively portrayed, it was a treat to see a mature 71-year-old turn into a mischievous child with one flick of the wrist that held the flute.

Saswati Sen, senior most disciple of Pandit Birju, held court for the next segment. Her exposition of the Ashta Mangal taal (11 beats) shone with virtuosity as she performed the tihais and paramelu sequences with chakkar or pirouette and precise footwork.

The Ahalya Udhar from the Ramayana was extra special because of Guru Birju’s participation as vocalist. The Guru played out the final beats of the two-hour programme in a drut laya tatkar (footwork) in teen taal.

The wonderful musical support was provided by Utpal Ghoshal (tabla), Ramen Deka (harmonium, vocal) and Chandrachud Bhattacharjee (sitar). The evening was dedicated to the memory of Yagnaraman, secretary, Sri Krishna Gana Sabha.

A Cultured Voicemusic

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Cultured voice

Photo: M. Karunakaran

Suchit Narang.

Recipient of the prestigious ‘Man of theYear’ Award in 2001 from ABI for achievement and dedication towards exemplary goals and also recipient of the national award from the then Vice-President Krishan Kant carrying a citation and a cash award is no mean achievement for Suchit Narang who has fought his infirmity boldly and met high standards in Hindustani music.

His visually challenged condition has hardly been an impediment and it is really amazing that in his repertoire and rendition, he could be compared with any front ranking artiste in the country.

Visiting Chennai with a mission to speak and instruct on the use of Brail for Carnatic musicians, he also presented a concert. Belonging to the Kirana Gharana of Ghazi Khan and Kale Khan fame, Suchit who is now under the tutelage of Vidhushi Mattoo, presented his gurubhai Taresh Sharma the delineation of raga Puriya Dhanashree in ek taal madhya laya, ‘Shankar Shiv Mahadev.’

Tonal variations

Suchit began his recital in raga Miyan ki Malhar ‘Kari main kaise’ in ek taal vilambit, slowly improvising in his deep guttural voice employing the ‘been ang gayaki’ of Ustad Bande Ali Khan taking the swaras in ‘kharaj’ so well, delineating each swara distinctively providing tonal variations showcasing a highly cultured voice. The dhrut piece, ‘umard gumard ghanwa chamkat,’ was accompanied by a characteristic throw in the voice taking sargams with a great finish. On request Suchit sang the Multani ‘Sundar surjhanuma saaniee’ followed by a short bandish in Kedar. Munish on the tabla and Viresh Madri on the violin provided excellent support.

JYOTI NAIR BELLIAPPA

AIR Early Days

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AIR’s early days

S. MUTHIAH

maiden home Of All India Radio, Madras

For long I’ve been trying to trace the house on Marshall’s Road that housed the first All India Radio station.

A note a reader has sent tells me it was called East Nook and was next to the house of Dr. George Zachariah, a leading ophthalmic surgeon of the time.

The note also tells me that the first Editor of Vanoli, the popular bi-monthly featuring the Station’s programmes, was T.C. Theetharappan, better known as Deepan, who was the son of Rasikamani T.K. Chidambaranatha Mudaliar.

And a third item in the note states that the first permanent artists of AIR Madras were advocate Sundaram Iyer’s children, S. Rajam, a nonagenarian now, whose paintings of the Trinity are still considered the best representations of the trio, his two sisters, Jayalakshmi and Sarasa, and their younger brother S. Balachander.

I don’t know whether the other two siblings were also involved with AIR, but is there any other radio station anywhere in the world that owed so much to four members of one family?