When
I was young, I had the great good fortune of growing up in a large complex of
three bungalows that straddled two major streets in the Alwarpet-Teynampet
area, Murrays Gate Road, and Eldams Road. There were no compound walls
separating the three houses, and the result was a vast, tree-shaded play area
for all of us kids, a dozen or so cousins occupying those houses. Two
granduncles, both sportsmen in their youth, were our match referees and
adjudicators. The older of them, Venkata Mama, was by then semi-retired, and a
sage presence in the midst of some of our frenetic games ranging from cricket
and I Spy to carrom and Monopoly. We took all our disputes to him, all our
interpretations of the laws governing our games. His word was always final,
delivered firmly but with affection and kindness.
Vidwan
RK Srikantan always reminded me of Venkata Mama, not in his physical
appearance, but in his largely involuntary role of elder statesman among
Carnatic musicians. If he had been a Chennaivasi, we would have heard his
voice—not his singing voice but his views and perspectives on the great art he
represents--more often than we actually did.
We
all know he held strong views on tradition in Carnatic music—on voice training
and sruti and laya suddham; we know his repect for the great vaggeyakaras and
vidwans of the past. Sruti magazine, and I as a rasika, have been great fans of
his music for the grandeur he brought to it—for his vast repertoire, his sense
of balance in manodharma and most of all for his wonderful voice, his fidelity
to sruti.
The
many stalwarts present here today have a much better understanding of Carnatic
music, far greater exposure to it, but I’ll rush in where angels fear to tread,
and state that there has rarely been a greater male voice in Carnatic music
than Sangita Kalanidhi RK Srikantan’s.
But
Srikantan, like MS Subbulakshmi, was more than a great voice.
Someone-
his son Ramakanth I think—once said Srikantan was a late bloomer. That one
attribute of his straightaway endeared him to me, because I too belong to such
a tribe, though my friends believe that I am a never-bloomer. BVK Sastry
writing in Sruti November 1995, actually described his early singing as robust
and impulsive. “Virtuosity seemed to overshadow artistic sensibility in expression.” He pointed out this and other shortcomings
which he said were “counterbalanced by his resonant, ringing voice, which
invested his singing with a dynamic quality and which seemed to overwhelm the
audience.”
Those
of us who never heard the young Srikantan will find it hard to believe that his
music did go through such a phase. In the same article, however, Sastry
acknowledged the transformation in Srikantan’s music, beginning with the first
noticeable changes in his mid-thirties, after he had internalized the music of
great masters like Maharajapuram, Musiri, Semmangudi and GNB.
Sastry
claims that Srikantan imitated GNB’s brigas for a while, adding his own
touches, and gradually evolved his own style.
He noticed deep introspection, greater control and thoughtful planning
in his concerts. He marvelled at Srikantan’s infinite capacity to surprise and
delight audiences by singing different compositions in the same raga by
different composers, in different concerts, even as the listeners expected the
repeat of some song he had dealt with expansively in an earlier concert. This
became a striking aspect of Srikantan’s music through the decades thanks to his
enormous repertoire across genres and vaggeyakaras. Yet keen listeners could
often guess the kriti correctly during his alapana because of his uncanny
anchoring of it in the kriti without ever singing identical phrases.
The
Sruti article came in 1995 to commemorate Srikantan’s 75th birthday,
and Sastry concluded by saying, “his voice has not lost either its resonance or
its ring. Thus the ragas sound full-blooded. They are handled now with greater
involvement and feeling. The swaraprastara too has undergone a change. There is
more spontaneity than deliberate designing, though he occasionally yields to
the temptation of mathematical permutations.”
Srikantan
only got better and better in all these respects, so that in his nineties, he
was in full possession of his faculties physical, intellectual and musical.
About the mathematical permutations, there was never any need to complain, as
his arithmetic had its own beauty; never lost its umbilical connection to the
ragas he was painting.
Returning
to the theme of Srikantan as the archetypal guru and de facto oracle, Sruti was
fortunate to hear some of his views and thoughts on matters relating to the
teaching of music. I ‘ll try to list
some of these here.
An
aspiring vocalist must sing naturally and without effort in a rich and flexible
voice. He must be bold and creative as a performer. He must be free from bad habits.
He should not be hasty and overenthusiastic to appear on the cutcheri platform.
The
teacher should ask the student to listen to the sruti or the key note for a
while and then sing sa-pa-sa.
The guru may hum two different notes and ask the
student to identify the note that is higher in pitch.
He may sing some notes in
one sruti and ask the pupil to repeat the same notes in a different sruti.
He
may test the student similarly with a tambura not quite in tune, asking him
which of the two strings is higher in pitch. He must train the better students
to tune the tambura and other string instruments.
Similarly,
he gives several examples of training in laya, stressing the value of the
age-old practice of singing at least three speeds as a learner. He cites varnam singing in three speeds as
good training. One of the exercises he conducted with students included the
guru singing simple melodies and asking the student to guess the talas.
I
found Srikantan’s methods of voice training most attractive. In an interview to
Sruti, he said a mellifluous, clear and pleasant voice was a gift of God. It is
a delicate organ, easily injured by wrong use.
He
gives hope to those not blessed with melodious voices, by assuring them that they
can train theirs into musical voices. Here he highlights the benefits of yoga
and pranayama, as well as higher and lower octave swara exercises.
Resonant
humming is another method of training he recommends. Most important, all the
voice training exercises should be practised in four tempos.
An
important disclaimer Srikantan puts forth is the distinction he makes between
loud singing by forcing the voice and a clear, ringing voice that is the
product of good training.
Here,
I will quote him verbatim: “A rich, full tone is to be aimed at rather than
mere loud singing. Proper management of the voice is the very soul of good
singing, or for that matter speaking, also.
Last
but not least, he says, “The possession of a good ear is an essential
requisite.”
Happily
for a listener like me, Srikantan emphasizes lakshya gnana, even more than
lakshana gnana, as well as good taste and aptitude for music. “Too much of
theory orientation destroys the aesthetic side of the performer, he says.”
Srikantan
was an opponent of distance learning. He
was against crash courses. According to him, an enduring student-teacher
relationship is the key to true learning.
In
his speeches and lec-dems, Srikantan expressed his views fearlessly, but with a
gentle touch, despite his stentorian speaking voice. At an interaction
organized by Sampradaya, he criticized TM Krishna for singing a varnam as the
main piece of a concert. Krishna who was the organizer of the event smilingly
quipped, “Let’s discuss this in private later?” I would have been delighted to
be a fly on the wall when that discussion took place. Just like my own Venkata
Mama, I’m sure Srikantan would have been gentle and affectionate but firm in
his pronouncement in the matter.
The
most fitting tribute to this extraordinary musician would be for musicians to follow
his sterling guidelines and emulate his values, without of course, sacrificing
originality. Let’s not forget that he was a self-made musician away from
Carnatic music’s headquarters, and he was an innovator as well, for all his
respect for tradition.
