Melody of the duck instrument

SUGANTHY KRISHNAMACHARI

Having learnt the oboe, Martina Leopoldt is keen on mastering the nagaswaram.

Photo: S.R. Raghunathan

unusual: Martina Leopoldt.

Ever since I dipped into our collection of records, to listen to the New York Philharmonic playing Prokofiev’s ‘Peter and the Wolf,’ conducted by Leonard Bernstein, the oboe has been, to me, synonymous with the duck. That’s be cause, it is the oboe that represents the duck in this piece. When I tell oboe player Martina Leopoldt this, she laughs, and says, “It’s not just you. Many of my friends in Germany call it the duck instrument too.’”

Martina is in Chennai to give finishing touches to her thesis for a post-graduate degree in Musicology. She is a student at the University of Leipzig, and the topic of her research is ‘Nagaswaram — ritual and religious connections in music — especially in connection with the Tiruvaiyaru Tyagaraja festival.’ She took the help of Prof B.M. Sundaram and Injikkudi E.M. Subramaniam for her thesis.

Curiosity kindled

When she was eleven, Martina decided to learn how to play the oboe. “An oboe teacher had just arrived in Ilmeneau, the small town in which I lived. Just out of curiosity, I enrolled for oboe lessons. My face would turn red when I played the oboe. My friends would tease me and say, “You are not only playing the duck instrument, you even look like a sick duck!”

How did she get interested in the nagaswaram? “When my grandfather visited Chennai in 2005, he bought a nagaswaram for me. I didn’t know a thing about it, until 2007, when I visited India, and learnt how to play it.”

She filmed the nagaswaram players at Tiruvaiyaru this year, and at the Tiruvannamalai and Chidambaram temples. “I even went trekking up to the Sorimuthu Ayyanarappan temple in the Mundanthurai sanctuary in Tirunelveli. This temple in a forest has a nagaswaram and thavil player, while many temples in more accessible places don’t have ritual nagaswaram playing. They say they lack funds. I also wanted to visit the Agastya temple, but the permission from the Forest Department didn’t come in time. So I couldn’t visit that temple.”

“In the West, we usually don’t use microphones for classical music concerts. But you have microphones in your sabhas, and that spoils the quality of your traditional music. Why aren’t your auditoriums designed keeping acoustics in mind?” she wonders. She’s a girl with very strong views on adhering to the traditions of music. Surprising in one so young. Martina is only 22.

In the 17th century the oboe made its way into concert halls. Today the nagaswaram too is heard in sabhas, a development Martina is not happy about. “The nagaswaram is the loudest wind instrument in the world. And your sabhas provide amplification for the nagaswaram too! Indians seem to have such a fascination for technology. I even heard an electronic veena. I didn’t like it one bit,” complains Martina.

She laments that in Europe, Hindustani music is known more widely than Carnatic music. “I couldn’t find many books on Carnatic music in our libraries, but there were many on Hindustani music.”

“Bollywood music is popular in India, and A.R. Rahman has used the oboe in a song in the film Jodha Akbar. That might make the oboe popular here!”

Martina plans to continue nagaswaram lessons under Balamurali, who studied in Annamalai University, and now lives in Germany. Once she submits her thesis, she’s going to come back to India, to train under Injikkudi Subramanian. And of course, there’s also that trek to the Agastya temple that she missed this trip, but is determined to do soon.

Comparative study

In a lecture recently organised by the Centre for Ethnomusicology, Martina spoke of the role of the oboe in every period in the history of Western music, and then of the similarities and differences between the oboe and the nagaswaram. Some highlig hts:

Like the nagaswaram, the oboe is a double reed instrument of the woodwind family. It’s made of a wood called grenadilla, which comes from Africa. “Of ten pieces of the wood, roughly one will be suitable for making an oboe. That’s why the oboe is expensive. An oboe costs 8000 Euros!” Martina explained. “Reeds have to be changed every week, and each reed costs 20 Euros, but I make my own reeds.”

The oboe too has a conical bore, but the reeds of the nagaswaram are thicker, which makes the latter more difficult to play.

Amazing ability

“No oboe player will be able to play for more than two hours at a stretch. And I am amazed at the ability of nagaswaram players who play continuously for more than six hours in temples,” Martina observed.

The modern oboe has 45 keys, and therefore one cannot produce gamakas on it. But the baroque oboe has only three keys, and is more like the nagaswaram, because you can produce microtones on it.

In the baroque oboe too sound is produced mainly with the oral cavity, as in the case of the nagaswaram. Both the nagaswaram and the oboe originated as outdoor instruments, although the nagaswaram was used in religious processions and the baroque oboe in military processions.

S.K.

Notes of triumph - B. Ramadasappa

Source

Notes of triumph

RANJANI GOVIND

Life was not a bed of roses for nagaswaram artist B. Ramadasappa. But it was his passion for the art that spurred him on to succeed.

If your breath and blow are under control to deal with variations, any kind of kriti can be played on the nagaswaram

PHOTO: K.Murali Kumar

HIS LIFE’S BREATH: Ramadasappa with his silver nagaswaram adorned with a gold chain.

As a young boy, nagaswaram artist B. Ramadasappa would hope he got at least one meal a day. This past month, after a concert in Mumbai, the septuagenarian asked the organisers why he was being given so much money! “How can I forget my childhood?” he says as his eyes turn moist. “I am fortunate that God gave me the strength not only to wade through tough times of penury, but bestowed me with the strength to hold on to my nagaswaram to this day. To think that my hands which were denied a morsel during my growing years, are proudly receiving gold coins as awards and honours now…” says the emotional artist.

Ramdas, as he is affectionately known, lives in Bangalore. The 108-year-old house where he was born has seen a century of music, from the days of his father. One can’t miss his 10-ft long showcase that is packed with citations and awards along with his photographs with star musicians and dignitaries.

“Several newspapers have covered my concerts and have written quite a bit about me. What more are you going to write?” Ramdas wonders. Often referred to as ‘Karnataka’s Bismillah Khan,’ his unassuming nature is a virtue one instantly notices even as he expresses his gratitude to his father who was instrumental in his foraying into the world of nagaswaram. “My father used to say every musical instrument is a vadhya, but only a nagaswaram is a mangala vadhya. It is this instrument which is played at auspicious occasion, be it a wedding or a kutcheri.”

Rigorous practice

A well-known nagaswaram artist of his time, Ramdas’ father, Chikka Muniswamappa, insisted on very early morning practice. Much before sunrise, Ramdas would begin his practice, the air resonating with varnams, ragas and kritis. What did the neighbourhood have to say about the decibel levels? “This is where my father’s guidance helped me gain control over tone and volume. His lessons on subdued blowing and soft stylised touches on the swaras helped me in becoming a restrained performer. Today, when people appreciate the difference in approach while playing for temple processions, on concert platforms or at weddings, I remember my father. The control over the instrument speaks for itself.”

Varied presentation

It was more or less an unwritten law that he would continue the family profession, says Ramdas. “It isn’t easy to handle the instrument as it calls for a good deal of lung power. If I have stuck to playing my instrument, it’s only because of my passion and adoration for the sacred notes that the instrument is associated with.”

Ramdas recollects how he used to listen to recordings of Rajarathinam Pillai and Karaikuruchi Arunachalam and improve his style, even as his presentations later saw stalwarts such as Lalgudi Jayaraman and Balamuralikrishna appreciate the merge of violin, veena and mridangam in some of his concerts. His English notes and Veda inclusions in concerts have become a hit with his fans.

Stress on sahitya

Nagaswaram is made from rudrakshi tree that grows mainly in the humid Thanjavur region of Tamil Nadu. That it isn’t suited for gamaka-laden presentation is a myth that the maestro broke with his style and knowledge. He made history with his briga-oriented alapanas in rare ragas, took up kritis that laid stress on sahitya and brought in long vilamba kala sangati stretches in his pallavi.

“If your breath and blow are under control to deal with variations, any kind of kriti can be played on the nagaswaram,” says the musician, who would practise for 18 hours.

“Veena Doraiswamy Iyengar, a producer at AIR, gave me my first break when I was 22 and from then on, I have tasted success year after year.” Ramdas has received numerous awards that include the Karnataka Rajyothsava Award, Chowdiah Award, Sangeetha Nrithya Academy Award and the TTK Award that won him a silver nagaswaram. He is the asthana vidwan of the Venugopalaswamy Temple in Malleswaram, Bangalore. All his five sons play the nagaswaram.

Serious presentations for an appreciative audience apart, Ramdas feels at home at wedding concerts as the instrument is considered a mangala vadhya. “Can you imagine a wedding without a nagaswaram producing a soft Bowli, a soothing Nadanamakriya, a bubbly Manirang, an exhilarating Bilahari or a comforting Suddha Dhanyasi?” he says even as his son Govindraj points out that he is booked for two years.

Wearing his celebrity status with humility, the nagaswaram vidwan hopes more government encouragement would help in preserving a fast dwindling art form.

Ananthapadmanabhan Veenai

Source

Chat Corner

A natural talent Ananthapadmanabhan

The name is synonymous with the veena. He was recently conferred ‘A Top Grade’ by All India Radio (AIR), the only veena artiste from Kerala in this category. The self-groomed Ananthapadmanabhan is the only veena staff artiste of the AIR in Kerala. Born in Thiruvananthapuram in 1951, he migrated to Thrissur in 1975 with an appointment order of the AIR in pocket. A beaming Ananthapadmanabhan introspects.

Initiation into classical music...

My father, the late T.S. Ananthakrishnan, who was Professor of Civil Engineering at the College of Engineering, Thiruvananthapuram, was a good veena artiste. He always used to play the veena at home. My father’s niece Gomathi Chidambaram was also an accomplished veena player. So the ambience at home was very musical. By the time I was 15, I had learnt the basics of the veena, both formally and informally from my father; by informal, I mean listening to him practising. In 1966, I happened to hear S. Balachander’s magical mellifluousness on the veena and was besotted by it. That concert helped me make the decision that the veena would be my forte.

Training…

After learning the basics from my father, I trained myself through practice that lasted for about six to seven hours a day. This practice was my main entertainment. During the last five years of college life, I used to spend all my evenings either practising or listening to concerts. I was very lucky to enjoy many live concerts of S. Balachander, Chitti Babu, K.S. Narayanaswamy, Mysore Doraiswamy Iyengar, M.D. Ramanathan, Semmangudi, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and Ravi Shankar, to name a few. Those days, I used to play all the compositions I had heard at a concert when I got back home. Sometimes, I would select a raga and practise it for about six hours, trying to highlight its special features.

The break…

After graduating in Mathematics from M.G. College, Thiruvananthapuram, I wandered around for some time. Maths was never a choice. Music is and was always in my head and heart. During that time, I used to play the veena and the sitar for Thunder Birds Orchestra. I have performed with almost all the top playback singers in Malayalam. Although I also learnt to play the sitar, I realised that playing both the veena and the sitar would not take me anywhere. So, I decided to focus on the veena. In 1975, I was appointed as a veena staff artiste in All India Radio, Thrissur.

Style of playing…

I do not belong to any particular school of playing. Moreover, I have not been trained in any music college. So, with equal ease, I play both Carnatic and Hindustani ragas on the veena. That provokes orthodox rasikas. Even now there are pundits who feel that that ragas such as Nalinakanthi, Kalyana Vasantham, Bageswari, Desh, Syamkalyan and Shudhasarang should not be played on the veena. I do play these ragas, some of which are among my favourites. My work in AIR has given me the experience and confidence as I got to tune light music compositions too.

‘Triveni Sangamam’ ‘Triveni Sangaman’ was a confluence of Carnatic, Hindustani and Western music. The audience loved it. I did it in 1976, long before the people of Kerala even started discussing about fusion music.

Favourite ragas….

All the ragas are my favourite. Nevertheless, I think I perform more compositions in Carnatic ragas such as Todi and Reetigowla and in Hindustani ragas such as Bagesri, Syamkalyan, Sindhu Bhairavi, Jaijaivanthi and so on. The moods evoked by those ragas… such as romance, devotion, melancholy and so on captivate me.

Teaching music…

I do teach. But I believe that music cannot be taught. One needs an inborn flair; constant practice can set that spark aflame. A guru is only a guide to channel such divine sparks. Being the ward of a great musician does not necessarily make one the the torch bearer of that tradition. So, usually, in my classes I perform and allow my students to pick it up and improvise according to their calibre.

K.K. GOPALAKRISHNAN

S. Balachander Veenai

,sSource

Balachandar revisited

V.BALASUBRAMANIAN

MASTERY Incredible visuals and veena recordings of the maestro left the audience pining for more.

Genius: S. Balachandar.

As part of their Veena Navarathri celebrations, Veena Foundation organised a multimedia presentation of maestro S. Balachandar (SB) at the Narada Gana Sabha Mini Hall on Monday last. S.B.S. Raman, son of the veena genius , was the presenter, and he made it crisp and interesting. Like father like son.

What S. Balachandar was not can be easily listed. The multi faceted personality looked for perfection in anything he did. He was a good chess player and one of his original problems was published in the sports column of this newspaper in 1937, which hailed him as a prodigy. SB was just 10 then. The paper cutting projected on screen was an eye opener for many.

Taken in by SB’s skill on the ganjira, legendary film director V. Shantharam presented him with a tabla and the boy mastered it no time. He travelled to Sri Lanka and Pakistan (where his chess tournaments were also scheduled then) as tabla accompanist to his elder brother, vocalist S. Rajam . During a concert at Karachi, a lady in the audience rushed home midway , brought a sitar which she had bought for her son, and gifted it to SB. He mastered the instrument within a year and started playing Carnatic music concerts on the sitar.

Multi-faceted mastery

In 1941 he decided to switch over to the veena and vowed never to play any other instrument again. But for the veena, with which he was seen in the photographs shown, the young SB with his sharp nose and wavy hair looked more like a Hollywood hero! Even at the age of 13 he began working for All India Radio. Raman recalled with a smile that as Balachandar was a minor then, his father had to go to AIR to sign for his son and receive his monthly salary.

The first audio clipping played was a fast paced swaraprastara for ‘Sarasa Sama Dhana’ (Kannadagowlai - Adi - Tyagaraja). The definition was perfect despite the jet-like speed with which swaras fell in place, throwing challenges to the mridangam and ganjira accompanists. That the crowd was in an exalted state could be gleaned from the constant ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of elation heard in the background.

The audio clipping that followed was the penultimate line of the first charanam of the song ‘Maayamma’ (Syama Sastri) in Aahiri — ‘Karunajudaway Kaatyaayani Kaalika Bhavaani.’ More than 30 variations of the line, each distinctly different from the other, bore testimony to the fertile imagination combined with impeccable swarasthanams.

SB was a genius indeed! The next was an excerpt from a Subhapantuvarali raga alapana he had played at Tiruvaiyaru with the perfection of a funambulist. Practice sessions running to several hours had made him scale dizzy heights.

After an audio clip of ‘Bantureethi’ played rapidly, came the toast of the evening — a 40-minute video clipping from a live concert in which SB played ragas Hamir Kalyani, Behag and Kapi. It was like a simham playing the veena. Spuritams, soft tapping, heavy pulls and deft touches created magic and the result was sheer ecstasy. Many in the crowd were in tears — this writer included. The master’s playing of the raga in the pit (the open space near the yali) where there are no frets was absolutely breathtaking! Traversing the octaves with ease, he showed his firm belief in manodharma.

Then came Suratti as icing on the cake, typically SB. And it ended leaving one yearning for more.