Vol 3 Issue 7 52 pages
Spark Word.World.Wisdom JULY 2012
Musical Musings
Featured People
Fiction
Non-fiction
Poetry
Art
The Lounge
Celebrity of the Month | Prasanna Voices of the Month | Harish Sivaramakrishnan Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings Krish Ashok, Namita Devidayal, RJ Prithvi, Vidya & Vandana Iyer
05 July 2012
Vol 3 Issue 7| JULY 2012
Dear Reader, It’s raining music in Spark this month. We have a lovely and interesting line-up of contributions from our team members for the July 2012 theme, ‘Musical Musings’. We hope you enjoy the selection of fiction, non-fiction, poetry and art focusing on the musical theme. Don’t miss our interview with Prasanna, internationally renowned guitarist, composer and Founder President of Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music. He is our Celebrity of the Month. We also have a lovely special feature where six people, related to the field of music in their own ways, talk about what music means to them. For lovers of non-fiction, The Lounge this month has write-ups in the spirituality, movies and slice of life sections. Sit back, read Spark and enjoy!- Editors
Contributors Amrita Sarkar Anupama Krishnakumar Bhairavi Vaidyanathan Deepa Venkatraghvan Gauri Trivedi Jenani Srikanth Nandeenee Parth Pandya Priya Gopal Priya Mahadevan Ramya Shankar Vani Viswanathan Viswanathan Subramanian Yayaati Joshi
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Celebrity of the Month Prasanna
Special Feature Harish Sivaramakrishnan
Spark July 2012 © Spark 2012
Namita Devidayal
Individual contributions © Author
Krish Ashok
CC licensed pictures attribution available at www.sparkthemagazine.com
RJ Prithvi
Published by Viswanathan
Anupama
Krishnakumar/Vani
editors@sparkthemagazine.com Powered by Pothi.com Coverpage Photograph : Maheswaran Sathiamoorthy 2
Vidya & Vandana Iyer
Concept, Editing & Design Anupama Krishnakumar Vani Viswanathan Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Inside this Issue NON-FICTION Can You Hear the Notes of My Heartstrings? by Priya Mahadevan What Does a Jealous Sky Look Like? by Nandeenee Unchained Melodies by Deepa Venkatraghvan/Priya Gopal Forgotten ’Hits’ by Vani Viswanathan Curtailed Melodies by Gauri Trivedi FICTION An Unfinished Melody by Parth Pandya Interludes by Anupama Krishnakumar POETRY My World of Music by Anupama Krishnakumar CELEBRITY OF THE MONTH Strumming Away to Glory | Interview with Prasanna SPECIAL FEATURE |Musical Notes—What Music Means to Us! Harish Sivaramakrishnan, Lead Vocalist, Agam Namita Devidayal, Journalist & Author Krish Ashok, Blogger RJ Prithvi, Radio Jockey Vidya & Vandana Iyer, Singers VIEW POINT |Perspectives on Carnatic Music by Ramya Shankar, Bhairavi Vaidyanathan & Jenani Srikanth THE LOUNGE THE INNER JOURNEY| Forgotten Memory by Viswanathan Subramanian STORYBOARD|FILM FREAK On Action Films and Genre Tolerance by Yayaati Joshi SLICE OF LIFE | Jai Ho! by Gauri Trivedi ART | Persephone’s Melody by Amrita Sarkar 3
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Non-Fiction Can You Hear the Notes of My Heartstrings? by Priya Mahadevan
In a heartfelt piece, Priya Mahadevan grows nostalgic about the music of her growing-up years, and also talks about how music has pervaded her life today, particularly with respect to her three children who enjoy music too and have their own musical tastes. Read it. This is sure to make you smile.
I think I am not alone when I say that I cannot remember a single day when I haven’t heard at least a single note of music. Seriously! As a child I remember waking up to the beeping of the Akashvani news on my dad’s old Grundig radio and after the news was over, my dad would switch over to the Carnatic music singer du jour and that was how my day began. With my mom, we curled up with the transistor on summer afternoons listening to Vividh Bharati’s old English and Hindi songs. The Srilankan (Yazhpanam) radio station was the best – they were clear and they also played a lot of our favourite music. On the many days of festivities that India boasts of, the early morning blaring of religious music, L R Eshwari’s ‘Mariamma, yengal Mariamma’ or Seergazhi Govindarajan’s soulful rendition of ‘MarudaMalai Mamaniye Murugaiya’ were positively annoying – positive because it reminded us that it was a holiday from school, and annoying because it disturbed
us on the one day we could actually sleep in! My dad himself was a Carnatic music singer and sang at the AIR – although the songs were familiar from hearing him sing often, that genre of music was not “appealing” at that time of ignorance. Wednesday evenings were spent crowded around our Dyanora TV waiting for ‘Chitrahar’, the Hindi music show, praying to not see white rain or have power cuts during that measly half hour of our favourite TV show. On Thursdays – if my memory serves me right – we watched the highly anticipated ‘Oliyum Oliyum’, the music show that gave us the first peek into new songs from upcoming or just released Tamil movies. And let me not forget to mention the two mega Sunday radio shows, of ‘Thiraiganam’ and ‘Neengal Ketavai’! I remember we were one of the first in our neighbourhood to acquire a colour TV and before we knew it we had a massive gathering of 4
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unknown people, neighbours and household help in our verandah, eyes peering through the grills on the window of the living room where the TV was. Many of them just let themselves in to our home and snuck out before the big lights were turned back on. But most of the shows on radio and TV almost always centered on music. My sister went abroad and brought on her first visit back home a tape recorder with many Billboard hits and American Top 40 songs on tapes that got worn out from being played. I was graduating into the new age pop music world. I was 16 when I got my first Walkman – a rather large and heavy device that I was so attached to that I slept with it, walked around with it and studied with it, much to the chagrin of my parents and siblings. But anyone who has passed teenage knows how wrapped up one can get with music and lyrics that we take so much to heart, as if each word is being sung for us personally!
ried with children and music has come to mean so much more to me than ever before. I stir at a feather-light kiss that my 16-year-old son plants on my forehead. He’s woken me up thus since he was about seven or eight years old – I am happy about the kiss, a half smile forming on my dry lips, but a bit grumpy that it’s another morning already and time to wake up and get the day going. I hear the fridge door open and the rustle of the bread bag. Footsteps head towards the toaster and I hear its spring pressed down. My ears follow the footsteps to the piano room and momentarily, the minute waltz streams through the house. I smile fully now. Meet my son, the piano maestro. It was not so long ago that I took him to his first lesson with his music teacher at school. She was strict without being mean, but laid a good foundation by teaching him sight-reading of notes. It is a long course to take in piano when you compare it to the Suzuki method of teaching that is based on rote memory. I still recall the shy young seven-year-old second grader and his large black eyes as he waited for his turn to do his first piano recital. I was a bundle of nerves for him. But he went to his seat and played without missing a note … I was SO proud, beaming from ear to ear at how confident and at ease he was with this big percussion instrument. Now, nine years since that first recital, I am still mesmerized by his piano playing. The piano keys wait in anticipation of his fingers’ caress. The music lilts into my room and I open my eyes much happier with the day. The music lasts for a minute or two exactly. He has timed it to coincide with the popping of the toast from the toaster. He is back at the dining table slathering
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Flash forward here with me today, 20 odd years later, to my life in the U.S. There is no noise to be heard except the whirring of the AC or the fridge, unless you leave your windows open to hear the sounds of traffic and nature. I am mar5
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peanut butter on to his toast, sprinkling some human until she came into my life. She loved spicy idli powder over it, a patented combo in learning and just the word ‘school’ would bring our home. a huge smile to her face. She was eager to join school and every time I dropped my son off at pre-school she would want to linger, join in their circle time when they sang songs and danced along. In the blink of an eye, she has become a teenager, as musical as her brother, auditioning for musicals and playing the violin and piano. She amazes me with her talent to pick up any song or music and play it on the piano, just like that. Her voice carries down the stairs to the family room as she croons in the bath anything ranging from Bhajans to Jason Mraz to Sinatra to soul and jazz singers from the 40s whose names she and her dad alone know. But I enjoy it and revel in it, breathing a sigh of happiness that these tunes will fill my home and heart for another three years before she takes wings and flies away to college. My heart would lose another note.
He is now flipping through The Economist as I hear his father join him in the kitchen. I hear the water kettle being switched on and my stomach gurgles happily – soon my husband will be bringing me a steaming cup of coffee, the ultimate “get up, now” message. How I will miss this routine when my son goes off to college next year – tears well up in my eyes as I think about that eventuality, exciting in many ways for him and me, but saddening in that life as I know it with my three children will never quite be the That would leave me with my toddler who was same. But the piano will be here for whenever born with Broadway in her blood. At three years of age, she has heard pop, country, funk, folk, he visits home and will sound even sweeter. jazz and blues, some clean rap too on Sesame My daughter is upstairs, slowly stirring. The Street –at her teeny tiny age, she has been exbathroom door shuts and soon I hear her burst posed to all of it thanks to her older siblings. into a song – she is my singer. She knows all the And she has been exposed to Sufi, Carnatic, lyrics to all the ‘in’ songs, just like I did when I north Indian classical, Bhajans, Bollywood was her age, and has recently taken to singing songs, Ghazals and every other kind of Indian jazzy, blues-y songs from the 50s and 60s. She music. Beethoven, Bach, Mozart and Vivaldi for does not miss a beat or a note. Her voice has kids? Yes she has heard those too! She is a learnt to do all kinds of cool things like vibrato. sponge, eagerly soaking up languages and music, When she was a wee little infant of eight so much so that her head is abuzz with notes months, her ears would prick up to the tune of and tunes. She is bursting with tunes and has the mobile phone. It used to play “It’s a small even memorised the interval music that comes world after all.” I hadn’t met a more enthusiastic in between songs and classical pieces. I remem6
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ber our recent visit to India when she was so fascinated by the Bollywood tunes that played as taxis backed up – wonder why this wonderful idea has not occurred to the Americans yet – there would be less accidents, wouldn’t you say?
Now I catch a few American Idol episodes in place of Chitrahar (since I don’t subscribe nor have the time to watch the Indian shows); a multitude of XM stations on car stereo in place of the little portable transistor, and the portable device called the iPhone/ipod, an outstanding invention to store all the wonderful songs of my childhood and those from my present life. Change is inevitable. But my life is still a sweet song and I enjoy hearing every note of it.
She was late coming into my life, but happy she will be there for a lot longer than her siblings. She will fill up some of the musical void that my older two would leave when they go off to pursue their college degrees. Just like I did when I left my parents’ home to embrace my future.
Priya Mahadevan is a writer and food blogger with a background in Journalism. She was a political and feature correspondent for a prominent Indian newspaper in the 90s before moving to the U.S. She lives in Virginia with her husband and three beautiful children. She now dabbles in poetry writing, travelogues and is currently working on a series of children’s picture books. You can find her world of vegetarian recipes at http://priyasnowserving.blogspot.com.
Prasanna, world renowned guitarist, composer and the Founder President of the Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music, is our Celebrity of the Month. Anupama Krishnakumar speaks to him on his musical journey. Harish Sivaramakrishnan, Lead Vocalist, Agam, Namita Devidayal, Journalist & Author of ‘The Music Room’ and ‘Aftertaste’, Krish Ashok, Popular Blogger, RJ Prithvi, Radio Jockey, Radio One 94.3 FM and Vidya and Vandana Iyer, Singers, share their thoughts on music. All lined up for you in this issue. Don’t miss them!
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Fiction An Unfinished Melody by Parth Pandya
An affair with music – and a musician – that goes through the flow of a raag. Parth Pandya pens a story about Vishruti and Pranay.
“We’ll always have Bhairavi,” he wryly remarked, tilting his head ever so slightly on the makeshift pillow that his arm had made. They were discovering that as the months wore on, melancholy was the aftermath of sex. The space between their bodies was minimal but a strange discomfort had crept in. Vishruti and Pranay were rebels fighting the good fight, but the signs of impending doom had begun to creep in. Vishruti got up and gathered her sari that she had meticulously draped over the tanpura. She had resolved not to cry, but the odd sniffle and a solitary tear betrayed her. She put on her clothes, picked up her tanpura and slid out of the room. She knew that her heart had betrayed her mind all along – it was never meant to be.
clarity, with the gentle notes of the Raag Khamaj. The words of ‘Vaishnav Jan To’ were applying a soothing balm to the hurt morning. She was drawn to the voice like a magnet. She didn’t remember how long she waited in the shadows, unseen, hearing the singer make his surroundings his own, by the sheer dent of his voice. Music had always been a passion for her, but she never could bring herself to give in the same way, neither was she as proficient as this singer clearly was. When the music suddenly stopped, she woke out of her reverie. Pakad (Flow) “Was it Raag Hameer?” she asked the surprised Pranay.
He smirked and said, “Is that what you think? There isn’t any hope for music in this country if Vishruti vividly remembered the day it all starteven people in Benaras can’t understand their ed. It was the 31st of January, 1948. She strolled music.” about the ghats of Benaras with a deep sense of despair and sorrow, the shock of Mahatma He followed his insult by walking away, thinking Gandhi’s assassination the previous day still ran- not one bit about the insult he had heaped or kling her. Silence reigned – within her and out- the person he had insulted. Music was his arroside. Just then, a voice broke through with deft gance. A fuming Vishruti followed Pranay that day, as he strolled leisurely through the streets Aaroha (Ascent)
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on the way to his home. She was unable to contain the unnatural rage she was feeling – she was not used to being spoken to like this. She followed him, keen to avenge his insult. His abject poverty gave her hope of an opportunity. She knew that even the most carefree folks have mouths to feed. Slyly, Vishruti arranged to have Pranay as her teacher.
music. What they were doing was wrong for the world, but it felt right. The end was never going to be pleasant.
“Here, listen to this. This is Raag Kafi”.
brought her hand lovingly to her belly and called to it softly, “Nishad.”
Avaroha (Descent)
“We’ll always have Bhairavi,” he wryly remarked, as he saw Vishruti get up and walk out the door. He knew it had to end. Never mind that he was a married man. Never mind that Vaadi (Most important note) their worlds were quite apart. His music was “You know,” Pranay started, “there is a saying prime to him, his future as a musician hinging in Sanskrit – ‘Ranjayati iti Ragah’ – which upon societal acceptance and an unrelenting means, ‘that which colours the mind is a raga.’ pursuit of greatness. Present the emotion of the raga to have an efVishruti walked out of that room, never to see fect on the listener.” Pranay again. Vishruti looked outside the window, determined Months later, she sat on the ledge of her winto make today different. Each time, she made up dow, watching the rains drip. She hummed a her mind to ignore him, spite him, in their les- few notes of Raag Malkauns. She was lifted out sons, but each time she found herself falling of her reverie by a terse reminder. A new life short in her efforts. drummed a different beat inside her. She As he launched into the song, she didn’t need to be told that the gentle strains of this raag related to the Shringar rasa. She didn’t need to be told that there was no stopping how the music seeped into her being and stirred a passion she had not yet known.
Parth Pandya is a passionate Tendulkar fan, diligent minion of the ‘evil empire’, persistent writer at http:// parthp.blogspot.com, self-confessed Hindi movie geek, avid quizzer, awesome husband (for lack of a humbler adjective) and a thrilled father of two. He grew up in Mumbai and spent the last eleven years really growing up in the U.S. and is always looking to brighten up his day through good coffee and great puns.
The music had got through to her first. The man got to her later. Samvaadi (second most important note) What is it that compels people to self-destruct? Go against their greatest impulses? Work against their better judgment? Vishruti wouldn’t know. Neither would Pranay. They surrendered to love. They surrendered to 9
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Picture Courtesy : Prasanna
Strumming Away to Glory An Interview with Prasanna, internationally renowned guitarist, music composer and the Founder President of Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music
Interview by Anupama Krishnakumar In an interview to Spark, Prasanna talks about his fascinating musical journey of being a guitarist, composer and the President of Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music. Anupama Krishnakumar listens in.
Celebrity of the Month 10
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Interview Prasanna, the popular guitarist, the music composer and the Founder President of Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music - that's your musical journey in a nutshell. But tell us about how this journey began. How did you get interested in music, particularly playing the guitar and when did you start learning? My journey in music and life has always been a fascinating one since my childhood and when I look back, I certainly feel blessed. I was born and raised in a traditional, middle-class South Indian Hindu family in Tamil Nadu. While most musically inclined children growing up in my community at least in the mid-70's were usually exposed to traditional Carnatic music instruments such as the veena or the mridangam, I stumbled upon the guitar at the age of four because a neighbour played guitar in a church in the small town of Ranipet. I was hooked to the guitar even before I knew anything about the instrument. I started playing the guitar at the age of 10 after we moved to Chennai. I was also listening to Carnatic music, Illayaraja and Western pop bands like Beatles, Abba and Toto then. I took guitar lessons from a family friend called Shanmugaraj and later from Samuel Thangadurai but for the most part, I was self-taught as far as the guitar and western popular music goes.
Prasanna is an internationally renowned guitarist, music composer and the Founder President of Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music, the largest music college in South Asia. A pioneer in performing Carnatic music on the guitar, Prasanna has more than 11 Carnatic albums to his credit, as well as recordings of original music such as ‘Be the Change’, ‘Electric Ganesha Land’ and more. He has performed and recorded with artistes such as Esperanza Spalding, Victor Wooten, AR Rahman, Joe Lovano, Omar Hakim, Illayaraja, Hariprasad Chaurasia, Dafnis Prieto, Alphonso Johnson and others. In addition, Prasanna tours and records with two collaborative trio projects - The 'Raga Bop Trio' with drummer Steve Smith and saxophonist George Brooks and 'Tirtha' with pianist Vijay Iyer and tabla player Nitin Mitta. Prasanna has composed the original music score for the 2009 Oscar Award winning documentary ‘Smile Pinki’. He has also scored music for the criticallyacclaimed Tamil feature film, ‘Vazhakku Enn 18/9’ that is currently running in theaters. To know more about Prasanna, visit www.guitarprasanna.com. To know more about Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music (SAM), visit www.sam.org.in. Carnatic music on the electric guitar? Did you face any particular challenges when you began experimenting with this unique idea? I started playing Carnatic music on the guitar on my own, by intently listening to my sister’s vocal and veena lessons. Seeing my commitment and ability to play some kritis and ragas on the guitar, my sister’s veena teacher,
How did you run into the idea of playing 11
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Tiruvarur Balasubramaniam, offered to be my Guru. In the beginning, he was a bit skeptical because he had not seen anyone play Carnatic music on the guitar. It was my mom's belief in my abilities and persistence that finally led him to agree to give me formal lessons. When my Guru and I started seeing results, he was happy. I was so fortunate that leading Carnatic 'vidwans' like Dr. Balamuralikrishna, Lalgudi Jayaraman and young masters like U. Shrinivas and many others were vocal in their praise for my playing and so were the Press, by and large. While my first guru definitely paved the way, the biggest credit for my development into a mature Carnatic performer must go to my guru, Kanyakumari, the incredible violinist and my teacher for 23 years. She completely revolutionized my playing with her dedicated and uncompromising teaching methods and professional insights as a top level performer in the Carnatic world. What do you feel are some of the difficult and challenging ragas to play on a guitar? Why?
tions. I am so glad I not only worked with both of them but also developed a friendship with each of them. Illayaraja is specific about what he wants from a performer since he has got 'everything' about the music figured out in his head. Rahman is specific too in a different way but keeps himself open to ideas from the performers in a more obvious way and then puts together things by taking the best of his and the performer's inputs. I can relate to both approaches since I am someone who is right in the middle of all that in my own work as composer and bandleader. Congratulations on the success of 'Vazhakku Enn...’. How was the experience of composing music for your first Tamil feature film? Thanks. I am glad that my first score for a Tamil film happens to be for a film like ‘Vazhakku Enn 18/9’, which has unanimously been acclaimed as one of the greatest films in Tamil that has been made. Its commercial success outside of the critical acclaim is quite staggering. Balaji Sakthivel is a pioneering director in Tamil Cinema and with a producer like the risk-taking Lingusamy on his side, the output is for all to see.
For me, the difficult and challenging ragas to play on the guitar are pretty much the same as the ones which are challenging in general. Ragas like Yadhukula kambodhi, Dhanyasi, Reetigowlai, Kedaragaula, Sahana, Bhairavi, Thodi are I had a great time composing the music since Balaji invested so much faith in me. He knew he some of them. was going to get something that was not only You have worked with both Illayaraja and different from what his erstwhile choice for the AR Rahman. Tell us a about the experience last two films - Joshua Sridhar would deliver, but of working with the two of them. also different from what any music director in the industry would deliver. Unlike other film Both Illayaraja and A.R. Rahman have trans- composers in composing sessions armed with formed the scope of Indian film music in their keyboards, samplers and keyboard/rhythm proown ways and have made immense contribu- grammers, I was like someone from the dino12
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saur age, just sitting with the director in a composing session with an acoustic guitar, my voice, manuscript paper and a pencil. When I told Balaji that I would do the songs and the BG score all live with live instruments and players performing in the studio, as much as possible as a live band like how it was 30 years ago, he just smiled and said that it was entirely upto me. Balaji was kind enough to come to my college Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music several times and I wrote many sections of the BG score in music notation and then played to him in parts. As for the songs, I even had a full band of faculty from my college read the music, rehearse and show different interpretations for him to see how it will sound like, instead of showing him stuff programmed on keyboards. I am truly grateful to Balaji for letting me be who I am. Of course, it turned out in the end that the only song in the film 'Oru kural ketkuthu penne' not only didn't have any 'electronic programmed machine stuff’, it didn't have any instruments at all! Maybe Balaji took my 'acousticism' even further than me! Just kidding! But I am glad that the song has been highly acclaimed - a song with just voice and no instruments and it was entirely Balaji’s idea.
mission from some Indian classical artistes for using their existing music. At the end of an engaging phone conversation, she decided in favour of having me do an original score for the film. However, the time was short and the composing, recording, mixing and mastering, all had to be done in two days flat in Boston, for her to meet the final edit deadlines. This was challenging for me to do, but then when you are given such a beautiful film about such a wonderful cause, you just say ‘yes’ and somehow find a way. Megan wasn’t present at the recording. In fact, Megan and I haven’t met each other yet, almost five years since the score was done. Little did one know that this film will win an Oscar and more importantly, change the lives of so many children born with cleft lip in India and other countries. I am quite pleased that my first documentary film as music composer won an Oscar! I am also thrilled to be in the company of Pandit Ravishankar and A.R. Rahman as the only two other Indian composers who have scored for Oscar winning films.
How does your approach change when scoring music for a documentary film, a comYou also composed the music for the Oscar mercial movie and a theatrical performance? winning short film, 'Smile Pinki'. How did It is the same in some ways and different in the opportunity come to you? some other ways. To me, I think music in very A Brazilian guitar player and admirer of my mu- visual terms anyway and so the idea of connectsic – Lucio Rebello recommended me to Megan ing it to moving images – be it a feature film, Mylan when she asked him to suggest someone documentary, dance or theater performance, is a she could work with for the music for ‘Smile natural process. As a composer, I am inspired by Pinki’, given its India-centric theme. Megan what I see everyday and not just what I hear evecalled me after the entire film was fully done and ryday. So, it’s a logical process. Having said that, initially asked me for ideas on how to get per- each medium that you mentioned has different 13
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sensibilities and performance values. So it’s important for me as a composer to be in sync with the narrative as is appropriate for each of these mediums.
Pic : Gerard Richter
U.S., Mexico, Democratic Republic of Congo, Tunisia, Chile, Argentina, Malaysia, Bangladesh and of course from all over India. We also have an exchange student partnership with McNally Smith College of Music, one of the larger music We would like to know more about colleges in the U.S. Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music (SAM). I believe it is a key milestone in your career as How did you exactly go about building the a musician. What motivated you to start an course curriculum of SAM? How much of institution like this? your personal experience went into structuring the curriculum? If I have to pick any one thing that I have done in my life that gives me the most satisfaction, it My personal musical journey has been a combihas to be the founding of Swarnabhoomi Acade- nation of some beautiful accidents and some my of Music. I have always been passionate instinctive decisions. My personal experience in about education and I myself consider education performing and composing across many styles to be the single biggest factor in moulding my of music like Carnatic music, Jazz, Rock, Heavy own personality and character. I have been for- Metal, Brazilian and other Latin American musitunate to get a B.Tech degree from Indian Insti- cal styles, African musical styles, Reggae and of tute of Technology, Madras and a B.M.(Hons.) course European Classical music, has helped me degree from Berklee College of Music – two of design a curriculum of global contemporary muthe most prestigious institutions in their respec- sic that also draws significantly from the Indian tive worlds—and intense one-on guru-sishya roots. style education in Carnatic music from my gurus for a combined period of 30 years. I wanted to bring the best of all that I gained from both my western style education and the traditional gurusishya style education in an Indian classical art and develop an approach in music education that blends all these into a powerful learning experience. Hence the concept of SAM was born. Of course, SAM wouldn’t have been possible without the patronage of Mr. G.R.K. Reddy and his Marg Group of Companies who gave us this awe-inspiring place and continue to sup- Over the years, I have also taught guitar players, bass players, drummers, trombone players, voport us. calists, pianists, and others privately. I have Two years since its inception, we have grown so taught residencies, workshops and classes at much with students enrolling at SAM from the MIT, Berklee, and the Banff Center for the Arts. 14
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I have always wanted to give back something to the country that made me who I am and through SAM I am fortunate to share the gift of music education. In less than two years, we have had 46 faculty members from over 20 countries come and teach at SAM. It’s a statement that we have made reminding each one of us about the glorious multi-cultural age that we live in and how it has to be an essential part of knowledge transfer to the young, inquisitive music student.
pet, Rudresh Mahanthappa and David Binney on saxophones, Vijay Iyer on piano, Shalini and Natalie John on vocals, Mike Pope on acoustic and electric bass, Bill Urmson on electric bass, and Rodney Holmes and Mauricio Zottarelli on drums. On this record, I wanted to retain the rock abandon of ‘Electric Ganesha Land’ but blend it with the more jazz compositional approach of ‘Be the Change’. I am also experimenting with drum and bass, electronica and other interesting grooves on it. The new record also features a lot of vocal tracks, which bring a different quality to the aesthetic of the record. All the musicians brought in their incredible playing and energy to this.
Further, one can see that quite some importance has been given to Carnatic music concepts as part of the course. For the uninitiated, could you explain why this is important even in the context of western music? Aside from this, I just finished the score for a documentary film called ‘Algorithms’ by British As I mentioned, SAM is a place of deep connec- sports filmmaker Ian McDonald and also have a tion between the modern Euro-American west- few other film projects in Tamil that I am conern sensibilities of pedagogy and the Indian cul- sidering post Vazhakku Enn 18/9’s success. tural aspects of teaching methodology. Carnatic And of course, there are some amazing things music represents both a science and a philoso- happening in SAM. In the Fall term, we have phy and I believe it’s essential for musicians to Jordan Rudess, keyboardist of one of the world’s get acquainted with this music along with many biggest Rock acts, Dream Theater, coming to other forms of western music that they get ex- teach at SAM and I will be working on some posure to in SAM. exciting teaching stuff with him too, so lots to look forward to! Lastly, tell us a bit about your forthcoming music projects. I have a long overdue album project that I finished recording in late 2009. Between SAM and my CDs and tours in Europe and the U.S. with the two other collaborative projects that I am part of – Ragabop Trio and Tirtha, I just couldn’t find time to put this album out. This is my most ambitious project with a stellar line-up of musicians that include Dave Douglas on trum15
Celebrity of the Month
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Non-Fiction What Does a Jealous Sky Look Like? by Nandeenee
“Fields of Gold” by Sting is one of Nandeenee’s favourite songs since the time she was a kid. The melody no doubt is one of the reasons for her love for the song. But what strikes her too is the visual appeal of the song, particularly the lyrics that prompts her to dream up vivid images. The phrase ‘jealous sky’ fascinates her in particular. She tells us just why so in poetic prose.
Will you stay with me, Will you be my love
golden fields swaying to the breeze, as if dancing to a love song; warm sunrays teasingly sending Among the fields of barley tingles down to the toes; long hair cascading We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky down in abandonment; a gorgeous sunset carrying with it a tinge of nostalgia; children running As we lie in the fields of gold with carefree innocence. Pure and simple poetry - Sting "Fields of Gold" set to music. The song was indeed a beautiful, I've always loved Sting's Fields of Gold. I was spiritual expression of love through nature. just a kid when I first heard the song, and did I couldn't help but become particularly fond of not get the whole lovey-dovey feeling that Sting Sting's "Jealous Sky". Jealous of what - the love was striving for in this particular song. Until the sky was witnessing? High up with the sun as later that is! As a child though, the song always its companion, surely the sky felt jealous of the used to make me feel extremely happy and nos- closeness shared by the lovers in the fields? Or talgic at the same time. It must definitely have did he use "jealous sky" as a way to celebrate life been the melody, because I could hardly under- on earth? Maybe the “jealous sky” was actually stand what he was saying. Bless the power of Heaven, waiting for the time to claim this beaumusical notes on our emotional states! tiful love expressed on earth as his. Endless Nonetheless, once I grew up, I realised that this were the interpretations. was one of those rare songs whose lyrics could But I was still haunted. The bittersweet nature actually bombard me with crystal clear images: 16
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Google Images
of the song kept nagging me to delve deeper "What would a jealous sky look like?" into the phrase, “jealous sky”. Dark clouds looming, gorgeous raindrops dancI believe that Earth and Sky are perfect lovers. ing? Wrath of lightning shooting down like a Think about it. They are total extremes but are majestic limelight? Beautiful mosaic of colours unable to live without each other. Well, don’t as the sun bids farewell? Flock of birds twirling opposites attract? And how well they comple- in sync against a velvety background? ment each other! Hard and grounded; elusively A jealous sky? Well, it would look like any of the abstract. However much apart, forever together. above. Just like lovers everywhere, how could they exist Anything to remind beloved Earth that beauty is without a dash of jealousy? but a reflection of love. And so I thought to myself:
Passionate about her work in the field of mental health, Nandeenee regularly visits the world of music and stories to recharge and reboot. She has a weakness for nature, chocolate, Krishna, tea, AR Rahman and so many other things!
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Non-Fiction Unchained Melodies by Deepa Venkatraghvan Creative inputs : Priya Gopal
The learning environment for classical music and dance has traditionally been rigid and conditional, forcing students to feel a lot of pressure rather than joy when they enroll for such classes. Deepa Venkatraghvan discusses her perspective on this tradition and tries to figure out where it’s all going wrong, taking instances from her own life. Creative inputs from Priya Gopal.
My day begins with the melodious Venkataswara Suprabhatam rendered by the magical M.S. Subbulakshmi. It ends with the lovely Hindi film music of the 70s or the 80s. I listen to music while driving, while cooking, while cleaning and even sing while bathing. But I’d be exaggerating if I said I love music. I like music. I like listening to songs, I like to shake a leg or two at parties and my Sunday mornings are best spent listening to Hindi film songs. Although they do not feature high up on my priority list, I would be happy to learn dance and maybe sing in a troupe, because I enjoy music. But my feelings towards music weren’t similar when I was a child. Let me explain. Having grown up in a Tambrahm household, music has always been a part of my life. My mom is a trained classical singer. All my older cousins learnt some form of classical music or
the other; the girls typically learnt to sing, to play the violin or to do the Bharatnatyam and the boys learnt to play the mridangam. Summer vacations with cousins were not complete without a daily session of ‘practice’. Family get-togethers and festivals were not complete without the mothers and grandmothers egging their daughters to sing. I would be lying if I said I enjoyed all this. Music came into my life, conditional and purposeless. As a child of around six or seven years, I too was inducted into this system of learning classical music and dance. Music lessons were treated on par with academics and hence came with the same kind of pressure and stress. The classical music teachers were strict. Students were expected to learn the ‘Geethams’ and ‘Varanams’ by heart. The Bharatnatyam lessons were also rigid. We had to practice the squat, the mudras, and facial expressions and do innumerable repe-
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tition, surprisingly, without a hint of music. All we heard was a beat our teacher sounded out by hitting a wooden stick on a wooden plank. Only after you perfected these basics did you move on to learning dance with music. Yes, practice probably made one perfect, but for me, it destroyed the magic in music and dance. Even if one was trained in classical music formally for many years, he or she was allowed to perform only at family functions or temple festivals. Making a career of music was not an option. Public performances were a strict ‘no-no.’ Having trained in classical music, your voice obviously grew stronger. But to sing ‘light music’ at school or college festivals was not favoured much. So the much needed drive for any pursuit – a purpose, one that we could define ourselves for our art – was taken away. I have many friends and cousins who spent many hours a day practising singing or playing the violin and today, the songbooks and violin cases lie under layers of dust. The hours of practice would have indeed been worth it if they had translated to something more in the long term. But for them it never did. There were professional classical singers during that time, but my guess is that they may have been a minority. Not many middle class families were open to the idea. Knowing a classical art form was an indicator of your value system and your upbringing as well. So these sessions were also like a contest between mothers to see who among their children was brought up the best. Even if you sang like a pig, you had to sing to prove you were a cultured one. Girls were and are still probably asked to display their singing or instrumental
talent when ‘boys’ come to see them during marriage proposals. At this point, I must say that this perception of music being a measure of your upbringing was the general case in a Tambrahm environment and not so much in our house. My parents, though keen that my sister and I should learn music, did not oppose when both of us opted out of classical music and Bharatnatyam classes after a few years of experimenting. I went on to join the school choir while my sister chose to learn the piano. The piano was a compromise because her first choice was the guitar. Our parents had reservations about the guitar as visions of their daughter turning into Zeenat Amaan from “Hare Rama Hare Krishna” flashed before their eyes. The piano was still ok and 'respectable', according to them. As for me, the school choir was something lighter, with friends and fun, and most importantly, a decision of my choice with no pressure. But it did serve the same purpose – taught me how to sing. And my sister’s piano classes too didn’t come with the pressure that so defined classical music training. Much later, when we were mature enough to understand the importance of classical music, we both, out of interest, started taking classical music lessons. Now, I am a mother and my daughter just turned five. Like all mothers, I am keen that she explores her talents and pursues some art or sport that she will grow to love. So I enrolled her for a classical singing class and decided that I would only introduce her to it and it was completely up to her to decide if she wanted to continue. But after the first few classes, she refused to continue and I stopped sending her to the
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class and this was her explanation, “Indian music is very slow and very boring. I do not like it. I like to sing the songs they teach me in school because they are fun.” Since music was out, I went to the next on the list: I decided to enroll her in dance classes. I picked a ‘Bollywood dance class’ as against a traditional Bharatnatyam class. It’s been three months now and she loves her class and her teacher. And what makes it interesting for her is that the class is lot of fun. Of course, a Bollywood song itself is peppy and fun. But the teacher makes it all the more enjoyable. It was then that I realised how important method was to any lesson. The fun and magic in dance as well as music was what my teachers never handed down to me. They had lost me as a student because of the rigidity of technique. My daughter may have enjoyed a classical music class if it had been as much fun.
music and dance are not career options. Why is our art form, the embodiment of the goddess of learning so conditional? If music is the language of the heart, why does classical music tie us down? Why does it not allow kids to explore themselves? Why do we look outside schools to get our kids to learn it? If classical music and dance are such strict disciplines, why don’t we trust enough to value it? Why, if music including classical music is the expression of human emotions, doesn’t it teach us to express? Why is it so conditional? The answer probably lies in the methods of teaching these art forms. In trying to keep tradition alive, the strict and rigid methodology is suffocating classical music. The education space vis-a-vis school learning environments is changing. New teaching methods are permeating the classroom and making learning fun. Only if music is unchained from the shackles of rigidity will it be able to lure the future towards it.
Traditional mindsets about the art forms are very strong. Even today many still believe that Can we unchain the melodies?
Deepa Venkatraghvan, a chartered accountant, loves to write. She works in the media and when she is not writing about smart investing, she pens her thoughts about life's experiences. You can check out her personal finance blog at
siddhi
http:// blogs.economictimes.indiatimes .com/moneyhappyreturns/
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Special Feature Musical Notes—What Music Means to Us! compiled by Anupama Krishnakumar Music is an ocean. Many of us plunge into it for various reasons at different points in our lives. Music soothes, entertains, puts the spirit back into our souls, calms us down, lets us reflect and at other times, lets us get the sheer kick out of life. It means something for those who create it, something for those who receive it. Whatever be the genre, whoever you are – the creator or the listener, there’s one point that is undeniable – music is indispensable in human life; it adds meaning and a dash of colour to our existence. From nature to the most technologically advanced gadgets, music seeps its way into our beings.
‘Aftertaste’, Krish Ashok, popular blogger known for the humour that permeates his writing, RJ Prithvi, the highly popular Radio Jockey at Radio One 94.3 FM Bangalore and Vidya & Vandana Iyer, the music sisters whose rendition of ‘Munbe Vaa’, ‘Ashai Mugam’ and ‘Nee Nenaindal' with clarinetist and composer, Shankar Tucker, went viral on YouTube.
These six people talk about what music means to them and provide a glimpse of how this beautiful art form has become a part of their lives. Diverse that their fields are, it is interesting to note how music can be learnt, savoured and shared in such different ways. We hope you enWhile it is indeed tough to get the complete pic- joy the feature! ture of what music means to each and every one, given that music is such a nuanced experience, we at Spark, decided to talk to six very interesting people who are linked to the world of music in some way, to get an idea. Spark is proud to feature Harish Sivaramakrishnan, Lead vocalist at Agam, a Bangalore-based music band that has been around since 2003, Namita Devidayal, Journalist and Author of the acclaimed books ‘The Music Room’ and 21
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Harish Sivaramakrishnan, Lead Vocalist, Agam Harish Sivaramakrishnan is the lead vocalist of Agam, a contemporary carnatic rock act from Bangalore, India. Agam’s music combines the myriad hues of melodic scales and intricate rhythm structures offered by Carnatic music with the aesthetic principles and tonal elegance from western world. The band recently recorded for MTV Coke Studio Season 2 due to be aired soon. Harish shares his thoughts on music, his band, Agam, and their MTV Coke Studio experience.
My earliest memories of music as a child are of my dad making me practice three hours every evening when most of my friends would be out playing cricket! I can also recall my grandfather playing the harmonium. He was so good that I would always wonder why I couldn't play harmonium instead of practising singing! As far as my formal training goes, I underwent 16 years of training in Carnatic vocal. Most of my violin playing is derived from my vocal training and I am mostly self-taught when it comes to playing the violin. My technique would be found wanting at times, but I have evolved a way that suits the music that I play with Agam, my musical band. Agam wasn't entirely my idea. Ganesh, the drummer of Agam and I started jamming and writing original music. I think, we wrote Brahma's Dance, one of our popular compositions, back in 2004. Later on, Swamy, keyboardist of Agam came in, and started writing some amazingly beautiful Tamil poetry that we went on to compose. It was Swamy who named the band Agam. Then, Vignesh and Praveen came in, and our sound took a dramatic turn, which came to define the sound of Agam as you hear today. The wish and passion to play original music is what keeps us going. Also, we are all friends even outside Agam. We share a wonderful cama-
raderie which reflects in the music that we make together. It is hard to keep count of the shows we have played, but I guess we would have done about 100 in the last two to two-and-a-half years. A milestone in Agam’s journey is our recording for MTV Coke Studio. The experience was mind blowing. We spent almost 60 continuous hours making music and collaborated with couple of the most amazing musicians we have ever met (Butto on the flute and Arshad Khan on the Esraj). We worked on the arrangement of one of our tracks and the interpretation that we arrived at was awesome. We hope it strikes a chord with the audience as well, when it goes on air. Riad Saha, the man behind the show MTV Roots, heard us at the Storm Festival at Coorg and instantly liked our sound. It was through him that we met Chandrashekhar L, the head of music programming at MTV, who signed us up for Coke Studio. What I strive to achieve through music is simple - stay happy. Music is more than a hobby or a passion for me. It is a part of me that is hard to define or express in words. If I am not playing music, I doubt if I'd be able to maintain my sanity. Playing music is a way of life for me and I will keep doing it till the end.
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Namita Devidayal, Journalist & Author Namita Devidayal is a journalist with the Times of India and is also the author of the books, ‘The Music Room’ and ‘Aftertaste’. Her first book, ‘The Music Room’ is a memoir which reveals to the reader, the world of Indian classical music, and is a tribute to Namita’s music teacher, the legendary Dhondutai, who again is the disciple of the great singer Alladiya Khan. The book received rave reviews and also won the Crossword Popular Book Award in 2008. Namita talks about her music-learning years, her teacher, Dhondutai and their student-teacher relationship, her book, ‘The Music Room’ and what music means to her.
I started out as a reluctant student who was being forced to go for music lessons by her mother. I think it was a combination of two things that changed my outlook towards music—the first was the incredible love and patience of my teacher, Dhondutai; the second was the music itself which is so powerful and takes over, enters our being, without us even knowing it...I am in awe of Dhondutai's tenacity and unconditional devotion to music. There were so many points where it would have been so easy for her to give up, take the easy way out, but she didn't. She treated music like tapasya. The interesting thing is she was equally devoted to her singing as she was to her teaching. There is also an air of wisdom and insight about her that never ceases to amaze me. Finally, she has a great sense of humour! Like, the other day, we were learning Raga Malhar and she said to me, "If you keep singing like this, the rain will definitely not come!" I have shared so many memorable moments with Dhondutai. They are peppered all over my book, ‘The Music Room’. Like, going with her to the Mahalaxmi temple in Kolhapur and singing in the same spot where Alladiya Khan used to sing; or her teaching me the secret two note taan which I didn't even know was such a fundamental feature in the Jaipur gharana and so on.
The idea of 'The Music Room' came to me very organically. I was taking a literary writing course at Columbia University in New York and the final assignment was to write the first chapter of a book. The one that flowed out was the story of a little girl and her music teacher. I later decided to develop this narrative and it came to me quite seamlessly, through a combination of memory and research. Clearly it was a story that was overflowing inside me. I also wanted to make the wonderful world of Indian classical music more accessible to people. When I came back from Princeton, I actually spent a year almost living with Dhondutai as I wanted to do music professionally. However, I realised soon enough that I didn't have the guts or stamina to do something where the outcome is so unpredictable, where you aren't sure of your income. So I fell into my second love -writing. I loved journalism; it was like a paid adventure. And gradually, I moved on to books. Now both writing and music are equally beloved to me. Music has become a parallel track for me, as imperative as breathing. I sing almost every day. It has saved me, restored me, sustained me. I am so grateful to have it in my life. I am now working on another music book, a musical pilgrimage of sorts.
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Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Krish Ashok, Blogger Krish Ashok is a popular blogger who blogs at ‘Doing Jalsa and Showing Jilpa’ where humour is one thing that cannot be missed! Among many things that he does, including starting and managing the highly popular project, ‘TamBrahm Rage’ on Tumblr, he also plays the violin. In a conversation that reveals his typical humour, Krish Ashok shares his views on music and how he fell into the music pool as a child. Laugh away!
Music has always played a huge role in my life. I love instruments and I collect them. I am eternally fascinated by the most abstract of art forms, namely instrumental music’s ability to so profoundly affect our minds. My earliest memories of music involve the random combination of Abba and BoneyM and Illayaraja. When my parents were young, they were bold enough to resist the social pressure of only listening to Carnatic music at home given the fact that many of our relatives are serious Carnatic musicians. My father’s exposure abroad meant that he bought home tapes that were either unavailable here or were too expensive.
bly tone and rhythm sensitive and also that I was curious, my mom enrolled me right away with the oppressive violin teacher who banned English and film music from my repertoire. Thus began an almost decade long exercise in making me hate music of all kinds. I even wrote a blogpost about it sometime back! But what I have learnt of those years does help me come up with offbeat musical ideas. To say I compose would be a bit too much. A good friend, Harish, does all the arrangement and sequencing and I play three or four instruments. In short I am more a spark generator and performer. Harish does the formal "composing". You can listen to the compositions at http://www.soundcloud.com/ Once I made the mistake of expressing some parodesynoise. semi-curiosity at my mom’s office picnic where the daughter of an oppressive violin teacher played the violin. Seeing that I appeared reasona-
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Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Vidya & Vandana Iyer, Singers Vidya and Vandana, the music sisters, shot to fame when three of their music videos, ‘Munbe Vaa’, ‘Ashai Mugam’ and ‘Nee Nenaindal' that they recorded with clarinetist and composer, Shankar Tucker, went viral on YouTube. The sisters share their thoughts on music, the experience of working with Shankar Tucker and the success of their music videos.
We started learning Carnatic music from a very young age and we have been formally trained for over 13 years. We learnt from D.K. Nagarajan, brother of late D.K. Pattamal. Coming from a whole family of music, it was just one of the many fine arts classes our mom enrolled us in. Eventually, we started focusing solely on music because we realised that we had a strong passion for it. When we practise together, we make sure we have the exact melodies for each line of a song. We work out any differences that we can hear and make sure our swaras are correct. We have been singing together for a while, so this has become a habit and not something we consciously work on.
ody in our songs, to name a few. Also, our songs are different in the sense that we are trying to bring a traditional element back to today's music.
Shankar and we became friends after meeting at a youth service tour. We decided to perform together during one of the final stops of the tour and that's when Shankar got the idea that we should make a YouTube video together. A year later, we actually got together and recorded it! Shankar is one of the most humble, hardworking and talented people we have ever met. Working with him is such a pleasure and an honour, because he's so patient and truly a genius. It's always amazing to observe the process of transformation of a song after we record it. When we recorded ‘Munbe Vaa’, ‘Ashai Mugam’ Shankar always manages to surprise us with the and ‘Nee Nenaindal' with Shankar Tucker, to be beauty of the final product, which he weaves honest, we really didn't think it would garner so together eloquently. much attention or interest. We recorded the As for our forthcoming projects, we do have a songs because we loved the melodies, and we few things outlined. We just want to make a were overwhelmed by all the support and ensmall difference in the world of music and touch couragement we received. We think there are so people's lives through music in a positive way. many reasons our videos became popular: ShanFacebook, alongside YouTube, has been a platkar's style of creating a fusion of western and form that has bridged us with our supporters out Indian classical music, the videography, the melthere. 25
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
RJ Prithvi, Radio Jockey If you live in Bangalore, you are sure to have heard Prithvi in the mornings on Radio One 94.3FM. Highly popular for the fun element and pranks in his shows, RJ Prithvi became a radio jockey by chance! He talks about how he landed up becoming an RJ, what he likes about his job and then some more about the music he enjoys.
My becoming a Radio Jockey was definitely not a dream of many years. It was like a bolt from the blue. My profession as a Radio Jockey was preceded by a 12-year-stint as a lawn tennis professional with a state and a national ranking - No. 6 in the state and No. 42 in the country, and in fact, I came really close to being ranked in the world. I was part of the 1997 US Open (as a ball -boy though…giggles). My friends strongly believed that I must consider being an anchor while my mom helped me in my first audition at the All India Radio and there has been no looking back since then. RJ-ing is like a big release every morning. I like pulling pranks, flirting, singing my own version of the songs, bringing in fun, wit, humour and sarcasm into the show. I also like the fact that all of what I do on my show is immediately measured through the responses from my listeners. I like the fact that it gives me a lot of free time to pursue my other passions. Flying is my new found passion and I could not have done it if not for my free time. I fly my two-seater para-motored glider aircraft!
Indipop. What I listen to is usually subjective and mood dependent. I generally prefer melody in the songs that I listen to but at the same time, I also like songs like Subah hone na de from Desi boyz, Mitti mitti bol from Aisha. I also like fusion music - compositions that have a classical touch in commercial music or the influence of technology/electronics in devotional songs or Ghazals. Hariharan, Kailash kher, Mohit Chauhan, Tressy Chapman and Bob Marley are some of my favourite singers. I strongly believe that music can do so much. Listening to good music can be really enriching. It can touch your heart and soul. I feel that good music has to be objective. Here’s one of my favourite playlists with the songs in no particular order: Saiyaan by Kailash Kher, Dil toh baccha hai ji from Ishqiya, Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho from Arth, Redemption song by Bob Marley and Let the music play by Shamur.
I like listening to music of all kinds as long as they don’t offend my ears! Metal DOES! I love Indian music including Bollywood, Ghazals and 26
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Poetry My World of Music by Anupama Krishnakumar
When she listens to a favourite playlist on her iPod, Anupama Krishnakumar travels to a different world created by music—far away from the one we exist in. In this world, music sparks memories and ignites imagination. She shares the experience through a poem.
In a world cut off From screaming door bells Or a knock on the door Or the wail of a restless child Or a ringing phone Or a beeping mobile Or a tense whistle of The haughty pressure cooker All I hear is a deep throated voice A bunch of laughing violins Cheering her on A male voice jutting in Compounding the magic A beat that makes me Drum my long fingers And tap my aching toes Excitedly, semi-consciously. After a brief pause… When the flute weaves in
In beautiful soliloquy And the violins join in To rise mesmerizingly steep To reach a scintillating crescendo Giving just enough way For the voice to trickle in And knock gently At the chambers of my Cackling heart. After a brief pause… I fall prey to the magic Of a spellbinding humming That flows, bounces along Turns smoothly sometimes And wildly at others and churns 27
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The insides of this hapless listener
When music is the flint
Lost like a clueless child in the threatening
That lights up imagination
Yet captivating wilderness -
Of a creative soul
Only that this is a thickening jungle
It brings to life, stories
Of a myriad emotions in all its
Fragments of musings
Nuanced shades.
Silly, serious and contemplative
After a brief pause…
Of human nature and people’s
Longing, dreams, hope
Sane, insane or bland lives.
Linger in the dripping sweetness
I am tied, I know
Of her voice and I shiver
I don’t wish to leave
With delight and musical frenzy
This world that I have
When I am drawn
Come to inhabit
Into this emotional cave
In a matter of few minutes
That the voice, the beats
Away from the worldly cacophony
The brilliant strum of a guitar
Amidst which I almost always
And the tinkling sounds off giant
Sit like a nearly invisible dot.
Piano keys and a sweeping sound That moves from one ear to another Come together to build. When music unleashes Memories of times Long gone, never to come back The faces that filled those times Pop incessantly, those faces Some that I never ever saw again A few that still linger but have Google Images
Changed nonetheless. 28
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This gripping world that my Anupama Krishnakumar loves Physics and English and sort of managed to get degrees in both – studying Engineering and then Journalism. Yet, as she discovered a few years ago, it is the written word that delights her soul and so here she is, doing what she loves to do – spinning tales for her small audience and for her little son, bringing together a lovely team of creative people and spearheading Spark. She loves books, music, notebooks and colour pens and truly admires simplicity in anything!
IPod creates when I sit with Earphones on, eyes closed The mind wide open To embrace the minutiae Of soul stirring music As the black beauty Slides from one song To another, of a playlist Created with childish delight An impish smile and twinkling eyes. Ah, the joys, hear my dear friend, Of dwelling in a music-soaked World. It’s Pure, innate, unparalleled. It’s a find and oh, What a worthy find indeed! What a worthy find indeed!
WANT TO BE PART OF THE SPARK TEAM? GET IN TOUCH WITH US AT editors@sparkthemagazine.com VISIT www.sparkthemagazine.com FOR MORE DETAILS! 29
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Non-Fiction Forgotten ‘Hits’ by Vani Viswanathan
In your deepest of music-related memories will be songs from long ago that you are surprised you ever liked, that tickle you, or that take you down the memory lane. Vani Viswanathan recollects a few Tamil songs in her music memory that formed an indelible part of her teenage but don’t really feature in her regular playlists – the ‘crazy’ songs, she calls them.
It was during a Class 10 Board exam, I wish I could remember which one it was. As I feverishly wrote the paper, hand rhythmically sliding down those broad, ruled sheets, a song suddenly popped into my head. I paused for a couple of seconds. Here I am, writing one of the most important exams in my life so far, all crazed up about my aim to top the school, and my mind wants to sing ‘Laalaakku Dol Dappi Ma’ (for the uninitiated – and I wouldn’t blame you, for the lyrics really don’t give it away – it’s a Tamil song from the early 90s, featuring Prabhu Deva in his pre-ridiculous-movie-direction stage). For those few seconds, I wondered whether I was to be amused or disgusted with my mind’s song selection – for exams I had already written, the mind wandered naturally to songs I had listened to when studying the particular topic I was writing an answer on. I distinctly remember Roja’s ‘Pudhu Vellai Mazhai’ during the math paper.
Why ‘Laalaakku…’ though? No clue. I thought I was a freakshow, but years later I heard an acquaintance talk about actor Govinda’s songs playing in his head during exams, and I didn’t feel so bad. Whenever we explore music, examine its beauty, relive memories, etc., we leave out an important segment, I feel. We so often stick to the melodies, the blues, the jazz, the rock, the general feel-good songs, that we forget the silly, mindless songs that were the rage then, those that in the cinema-hall-non-multiplex days people used to dance at the front of the hall for. You may have forgotten them, but I haven’t. Yes, I actually have some of them on my laptop, so much so that sometimes when I’m playing music out aloud (or even when it’s just me, actually) and one of these songs plays, I jump to change it. I agree they sound jarring, they are reminders of the ridiculous, musical past that we used to have
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and enjoy, but they form the past nevertheless, so now I’ll take you down my crazy-song memory lane and hope to stir some crazy songs from your memory too. I’ll talk about the 90s, which is when my TV-watching was at its peak, before high school and college overseas pretty much cut me off from television and pop Tamil songs. In Tamil, it was somehow Deva who made this genre immortal for me. As much as I hated how easily he ripped off songs from beyond the seas, he gave us some music we’ll always remember, most importantly the taan-ta-da-da-taan that plays whenever S-U-P-E-R-S-T-A-R R-A-J-N-I comes on screen, one letter at a time. Deva was the man behind the harmonium for many youwant-to-forget-but-can’t songs such as ‘Vidha vidhamaa soap seepu kannadi,’ ‘Vellarikka pinju vellarikka,’ ‘Kaathu adikkudhu kaathu adikkudhu,’ or ‘Muniyamma kovapadathey Muniyamma’ or my mother’s favourite ‘Kavalaipadadhey sagodhara,’ which she’d break into every now and then to console me. Just thinking about the lyrics of these songs makes me giggle. These songs used to haunt television programmes like nobody’s business, getting me frustrated mostly, or on rare evenings, getting me in the mood as I finished my math homework. In the pre-private-FM days, these songs were such draws to the cinema hall, and I’ll admit in a very haughty way that I haven’t watched any one of these movies in the cinema hall, but I can imagine, due to the sheer number of times they used to play on TV, that these songs would have seen audiences dance and whistle their way through. It is unfortunate that most of these songs are forgotten today, and only Rajni’s versions are still remembered – like a ‘Naan auto-
kaaran’ or ‘Vandhenda paalkaran,’ or ‘Adhaanda idhaanda.’ I’m sure though, that on the rare occasion that you come across one of these songs today, you’ll break into a smile and be transported to that phase of your life.
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But you cannot forget the SA Rajkumars or the lesser known Adhithyan of that period too. SA Rajkumar with his ‘la-la-la’ and annoying tunes, was nevertheless hailed for his heart-wrenchingdripping-of-love ‘Rosappu, chinna rosappu’ or ‘Sollamale yaar paarthathu,’ which so closely resembled Rahman’s ‘Kannalane’ from Bombay, down to the interludes. Funnily enough, both SA Rajkumar and Deva thought it was a great idea to copy Junoon’s ‘Sayonee’ around the same time – one for a Vijay movie and another for a Prashanth movie. My favourites for SA Rajkumar, though, are ‘Kotta paakum, kozhundhu vetthalaiyum,’ which had a giant beetle leaf in the background as Khushboo and Sarath Kumar danced away to glory with their background dancers, the leaf shaking slightly in the wind. and ‘Salakku salakku jarigai selai salakku salakku.’ Thinking of the lyrics and the jerky dance steps makes me laugh even as I type, and I pity Devyani – who eventually becomes a collector in the movie– for being put through such torture.
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change the channel in which the movie was playing. His verdict was ‘Thaanga mudiyala.’ Well, he might say they’re unbearable, and I’d agree most of the time, but there are those moments when they make you sit up, grin and think back about those magical days when you were younger and more carefree.
If you’re wondering why AR Rahman didn’t make this list, it’s because his songs willingly play on my iTunes no matter what genre they belong to. I’ve always felt he gives a classy twist to his most ‘local’ songs – sample ‘Nee kattum selai madippula naan kasangi ponen di,’ with its fairly western instruments belting out folk-sy tunes. I deliberately leave out going too much into Illayaraja too, because to me, his songs continue to be immortalised by his many fans across the globe, while composers like Deva or SA Rajkumar really fade from public memory except for their really popular melodies. There are many more. There’s the genius ‘Maargo, maargo’ from Sathileelavathi, ‘Aye kutti munnala nee,’ ‘Oranga Sriranga koppara thenga’ or the evergreen ‘April May ila pasumai ye illa’ or the awesome ‘Kaasumela’ that my dad recently heard because I insisted I wouldn’t 32
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As for Adhithyan, I don’t remember too many songs, but can recall two from one movie: Seevalaperi Paandi. One is the almost-forgotten but revived thanks to YouTube, ‘Kizhakku chevvakaiyile,’ which shows Napoleon and Charanya getting married. Vivid scenes from the song stay with me even today – the couple rolling a golden ball (!) to each other at a wedding ritual, Napoleon knocking off the tops of eggs and drinking/eating straight from them, making the ‘pure’ Vegetarian in me squirm then, and him biting into a carrot fresh from his farm. The other is the ‘Chinna chinna aasai’ sound-alike ‘Oyila paadum paatula,’ which shows a blouseless village belle croon her way through a typical day. Sung by Chitra, the song does stay in your mind, and I remember these two songs being played frequently on TV too.
Vani Viswanathan is often lost in her world of books and A R Rahman, churning ouat lines in her head or humming a song. Her world is one of frivolity, optimism, quietude and general chilled-ness, where there is always place for outbursts of laughter, bouts of silence, chocolate, ice cream and lots of books and endless iTunes playlists from all over the world. Vani was a Public Relations consultant in Singapore and decided to come back to homeland after seven years away. Vani blogs at http:// chennaigalwrites.blogspot.in
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Non-Fiction Curtailed Melodies by Gauri Trivedi
Ever attended lessons for something you were good at but never liked? We’re sure it rings a bell. Gauri Trivedi writes about her trials and tribulations with her mother around classical music lessons that she was enrolled in as a teenager.
My friend walked in unannounced with her daughter yesterday, both of them agitated and exhausted as a result of a lengthy argument. The mother wanted the little girl to continue with her piano lessons and the daughter wanted to quit. The mother insisted that her daughter was good at it but lacked the seriousness to pursue. She got her daughter to me hoping somebody else would knock some sense into her. “Just come and listen to her play the piano, you will see right away that she is gifted,” the mother in question implored me. How could I possibly tell her that I was probably the last person on this earth she should have come to with this pickle? Me, who had failed to appreciate her own gift, passed half a decade in denial and who never had the courage to resume from where she left. If I had the moral fiber to own up, even to myself, this was probably the moment, but it passed quickly, saving me from going down the path of regret, this once.
pink slightly from climbing the stairs that led to our apartment and partly from the excitement of what she was about to reveal. “Mrs. Chitnis, our new neighbour in the next building, comes from a musical family and is a trained classical singer herself. She has performed at various stage shows and her songs have also been played on the radio! How lucky for us that she has agreed to give music lessons for a small fee!” Now, this instant connection might have shocked some, but not us. With my mother, these kinds of occurrences were not uncommon. She would meet people anywhere, get them talking and find out things about them. Things that don’t get uncovered in the very first conversation with a person, but like I said, some people just recognise a talent when they see one!
“But doesn’t she work in a bank the whole Some people have a knack for spotting talent. day?” I asked. It was 1987 and to be very honMy mother probably fell into that category. est, back then, I didn’t know too many working mothers and that there were mothers who “I have some wonderful news,” she announced, worked and agreed to work more after coming coming home beaming with joy, face flushed 33
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home seemed a little fishy to me. I believe the form of music or an instrument.” I looked at her phrase “Multi-tasking Moms” was not so much with disbelief. This was gross violation of my in fashion then, or I would have known about it. freedom of choice; in fact, this was no less than vocal exploitation. She had gone ahead and enHow I knew that Mrs. Chitnis worked for a rolled me and my voice to chase a target that we bank and that she had a son who was in the found mildly annoying and awfully uninterestsame class as my younger sister and a daughter ing. who had just started to walk and that Mrs. Chitnis’s mother stayed with her to help out, wasn’t “But you sing so well,” she went on, as if my really a surprise either. Without cell phones and denial had gone unregistered. “You are in your Facebook, the world was better connected. school’s prayer group and with proper training your voice will improve. If you practice you will “Yes, but you know how these banking jobs are, get better at it,” she persisted, hoping flattery there’s hardly anything to do!” Mother spoke might do the trick. “Mom, singing a prayer is from her own rendezvous with the bank emdifferent from singing the same seven notes ployees who could be seen doing everything again and again,” I screamed, letting her on to a from peeling pea-pods to laughing away on the small part of the whole truth. The momentous telephone to having snack breaks any number of portion of the veracity that remained well contimes, any time of the day. (Tickles my funny cealed was that singing the “ragas” was going to bone now when I think of people who witmake me a laughing stock amongst one and all, nessed this scenario and aspired to be bank ofmy modern image was going to take a serious ficers). beating and peers would promptly label me the “We can start this Thursday, she has a holiday next “behenji” in town. This was social suicide and it’s an auspicious day,” she announced. and it was all happening because SHE had While I totally approved of learning at any age dreams that remained unfulfilled. I was getting and was utterly supportive of my mother’s crea- angry now and on the verge of tears. tive pastimes, accompanying her to a classical The thing about mothers is that they have not singing lesson was really an embarrassment I one or two but about a million secret weapons was keen to save myself from. “I really have a up their sleeves, coupled with thorough lot of homework this week,” I said, suddenly knowledge on when to use which one. Normaleager to leave the room as if hit by some kind of ly, a disciplinarian and a no-nonsense instruction a premonition. “Just plan it out so that you have -giver, her demeanour changed on my vehement an hour to spare for your classical music lessons defiance. And before I could cry, I found myself every week,” mother casually dropped the consoling her. At 12, I was rebellious but not bomb. enough to cause so much grief to my mother; “Classical music lessons? Me? Mom! I thought that stage came much later. you were talking about yourself. You love to In her first ever emotional outburst, she desing, it was always your dream to learn some scribed how certain limitations and lack of 34
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opportunity had prevented her from following her dreams of learning music, and that I would be a fool to turn down the same when it had come to stay next door. “Time flies, never to come back. Grasp this minute, learn whatever you can, as much as you can – because if you don’t, all you can do later is repent.” She said those words with the urgency of a spectator who saw something slip away faster than it could be stopped. And just like when a child is forced to gulp down the morsel of food shoved down her throat even when she has refused to eat, I swallowed my denial and agreed to trail ambitions I was supposed to have inherited. The four years that I took music lessons coincided with that difficult period of progression in human life when sweet little daughters turn from followers to protestors. Music did nothing to decrease the altercations that occurred periodically between a teenager and her mother. If anything, it became a sporadic source of conflict, an undercurrent which surfaced now and then, testing tranquil waters.
passed my written and vocal exams with flying colours year after year, but those results did not fool my teacher. She had caught my obvious disinterest long back but patiently waited for me to finally come around to realising my own worth. That, of course, didn’t happen when it should have. The fifth year of training in classical music requires the student to practice singing with a Tanpura (a stringed musical instrument). That was when I put my foot down. No way was I going to walk down every week with a Tanpura in my hand for the music lesson. My mother pleaded with me but this time around I was emotionally less vulnerable, foolishly strongheaded and adamantly blind to my capabilities. And so I let four years of training go down the drain and secretly prided myself on finally having my way.
As months and years passed, mother kept hoping for some kind of a turnaround from me. She discussed my progress in detail with the teacher whenever the opportunity came and believed someday I would appreciate the encouragement and support (which she herself was sadly deprived of) she had provided me with, to take up a creative pursuit. But I was far from grateful. To me, it felt like a forced ambition, a borrowed dream. I would of course never admit to her that my music teacher thought I had a natural flair for classical music. I 35
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The perfect proverbial ending to this saga would have been my daughter doing the same thing to me. Fortunately for us, the Gods have decided to wait on their revenge. For now, she seems to be interested in every possible activity under the sun and her motto at this tender age is “Try it and you may like it!” While she doesn’t always excel at everything she takes on, my suggestion to drop a class is immediately brushed off. “Mom, if I practise, I will get better at it,” she
says, and I feel like I have heard that line somewhere before. P.S: Last I checked, mother had bought a brand new harmonium and my music teacher, now retired from her job at the bank, has never been busier.
Gauri Trivedi is a former business law professional who makes the law at home these days. A mom to two lovely daughters, her days are filled with constant learning and non-stop fun. All of her “mommy time” goes into writing and finds itself on her blog pages http:// messyhomelovelykids.blogspot.com/ and http://pastaandparatha.blogspot.com/ and if she is not writing she is definitely reading something!
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Fiction Interludes by Anupama Krishnakumar
Music can and does so many things to our lives. It brings in change, it refreshes a tired mind, it makes one nostalgic. Music, in any form, if we actually think about it, ushers some sort of a break. Interludes, thus, is a small step in this direction—an attempt to capture how music influences the lives of people. Here are two small stories by Anupama Krishnakumar that explore how music is fused into the lives of people, how musical interludes are so needed in our fast-paced lives.
#1 Sharadh and Krishna looked at each other disbelievingly. A chance encounter at a common friend’s wedding in Delhi and some questioning, surprised sighs and a very warm hug later, Krishna was now at Sharadh’s apartment. Hostel mates, they had been, 30 years earlier during engineering days, not exactly the best of buddies yet a relationship that would qualify as ‘better than an acquaintance’. And one of the first questions that Krishna asked Sharadh was, ‘Aren’t you on Facebook?’ Sharadh shrugged, indicative of ‘Nope, doesn’t quite interest me’. Krishna then learnt that Sharadh’s wife and son were away at Kolkatta, visiting his wife’s parents. ‘In a temporary bachelor mode, then?’ he questioned
Sharadh with a spark of mischief in his voice that couldn’t be missed. And soon the conversation flowed – quite interestingly, rather backwards – from where they were at this point in their lives; professional talk, the perks and the turmoil of their jobs, the agony of tension and the thrill of authority, heart-warming milestones and sickening office politics. And then they steered towards family – they spoke of their wives, their children, and surprisingly, given the years that had elapsed since they last met, quite frankly about the typical clash of ideologies that they encountered as Martians when dealing with their Venus counterparts. They discussed, like classic dads, the dreams they nurtured for their children, the hope that was ablaze at the core of their hearts.
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Soon, as cigarette smoke wafted over their faces and glasses clanked at regular intervals, they spiralled even backwards in the calendar and began talking of the days that would never return. Greener times, as Sharadh remarked, those days that were filled with dreams, hope and aspirations, those days when nothing ever seemed impossible, those days when the heart, dangerously intoxicated, went the way it wished, those days of dreamy love affairs, those days filled with music. Music, yes. It made Krishna sit up. He spoke of his mono tape recorder and cassette player, of the innumerable tapes he stored in his little suitcase back then.
Pal Dil Ke Paas’, ‘Yeh Mera Prem Patra Padkar’, ‘Dil Doondta Hai’ and ‘Abhi Na Jao Chodkar’. They discussed singing styles, the nuances of songs close to their heart, the composing styles of S.D Burman, Madan Mohan, Shankar Jaikishan, R.D.Burman and Laxmikant Pyarelal.
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In the end, when there was just the right amount of pause, they sighed and smiled at each other. Sharadh got up, walked up to his study table, brought out his iPad and touched on the words ‘Old Hindi – Playlist’. As both of them sat and the Ipad, in its crystal clear output, played out song after favourite song, the two men reeled in nostalgia, smiled and breathed peacefully as music pervaded the space surrounding them and filled them with a beautiful completeness. Here was the music they loved, adored and worshipped, the music that took them to a world far away from the one they lived in. In a home that now seemed transformed, the three, Sharadh, Krishna and Music coexisted with utmost grace for many a soulful minutes. #2
He whirred and sank further into the memory whirlpool and the whiskey, dutifully, added to the effect. Sharadh spoke with a sudden outburst of vivacity of listening to ‘Gaata Rahe Mera Dil’, ‘Rim Jhim Gire Saawan’, ‘Chingaari Koi Badke’, ‘Jaane Mann..’, ‘Gori Tera Gaon’, ‘Dum Maro Dum’, ‘Roop Tera Mastana’ and ‘Chura Liya’. Krishna topped it up with more Mohammed Rafi, Mukesh, Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle songs. He mentioned in a trance, ‘Ab Tho Hai Tumse’, ‘Bechara Dil Kya Kare’, ‘Tum Aa Gaye Ho’, ‘Pal
He takes his violin out from the case. He loves the brown that she glows with. He thinks she is gentle, receptive and beautifully sensitive for she responds with such finesse to his fingers and the delicate bow. He wishes Gauri would hear him now. He is all set to play his own composition and quickly checks the notation. They say the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach; he thinks the way to a woman’s heart is through music. Ok, that probably is an exaggerated extrapolation and anyway, the other women do not concern him, but Gauri does. So he believes the way to Gauri’s heart is definitely music. She plays the violin too, and mind you, is a prodigy
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at that. So you see, it isn’t going to be easy to utter a word and bends again to now look deepimpress her. Gauri, the girl next door, whom he ly into his eyes. There’s a remarkable glint in has known since he was five. them and he absorbs it deeply into his spirit. There isn’t a word uttered but he knows he has He sits on the high-backed chair and begins won his love in a destiny that his beloved music slow and deep and then picks up pace. Soon, the charted for him. sound of the violin fills his ears and he plays, as if in trance, the music that he created guiding him to strange and unknown realms and suddenly, he doesn’t even see his music notation and lets his fingers move on the strings that chart a course of their own while the bow does its work. He plays and plays for as long as he can, for as long as the elixir of music in him wants to pour out, using him as the medium to get out and be heard by the world – this is the music that began the way he consciously created with a purpose, of impressing a girl, and progressed in its own way, the prepared notation be damned. His eyes are closed as he plays and Anupama Krishnakumar loves once he is done, he realises he is sweating proPhysics and English and sort of fusely. He senses that his heartbeat is faster than managed to get degrees in both usual and takes the effort to breathe deeply and – studying Engineering and calm down. And he is surprised that Gauri just then Journalism. Yet, as she disappeared from the frame of his thoughts and discovered a few years ago, it is the written word that delights imagination as he played and that he had indeed her soul and so here she is, been consumed savagely by the music that doing what she loves to do – flowed from him. Just as he is lost, he hears the door creak open. Standing there with arms crossed is Gauri. She looks straight at him and walks upto him in slow, measured steps. He can’t help admire this woman that he is so totally in love with. She looks beautiful. She bends down and picks the violin up from his hands and examines it, running her fingers over it. He imagines that the violin, if it had been a breathing creature, would by now be letting out a deep sigh. She doesn’t 39
spinning tales for her small audience and for her little son, bringing together a lovely team of creative people and spearheading Spark. She loves books, music, notebooks and colour pens and truly admires simplicity in anything!
Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
Viewpoint Perspectives on Carnatic Music When we discuss Carnatic music, there are very many experiences out there that queue up, waiting to be heard. This month, we have three people sharing their thoughts and views on this form of music. While Ramya Shankar writes about two of her favourite ragas and Bhairavi Vaidynathan talks about the lukewarm response to live concerts, particularly those performed by upcoming singers, Jenani Srikanth discusses what Carnatic music means to her.
Musical Mornings by Ramya Shankar
take a lifetime. My grandfather used to be able to identify a raga just by listening to a few notes The best investment I’ve made over the last of the aalaap. While I failed to inherit that abilcouple of months is in a pair of noise-cancelling ity, I was fortunate enough to learn and identify earphones. This has taken my music listening my favourite ragas at the very least. experience to a whole new level; a level where sometimes I can’t even hear my own thoughts. Being a Yaman Kalyani fan, I love how the raga It has proved mighty useful at work, where I soothes and calms my agitated spirits. Despite plug in my earphones and I’m transported to a being an evening raga, I enjoy it first thing in the completely different place. This has proved em- morning. Derived from Kalyani, the queen of barrassing too, but let’s save that story for an- ragas, Yaman Kalyani is nothing less than comother time, shall we? Being an obsessive list prehensive. Sung with faith and devotion, this maker by nature, I organise my music into auspicious raga is a frequent attendee in wedplaylists and I have a work-based playlist that dings. Bombay Jayashri’s soulful rendition of belts out the perfect songs that contribute great- Bhavayami Gopalabaalam and TM Krishna’s playful rendition of Krishna Nee Begane are my current ly to my productivity. favourite covers of the raga. It’s fascinating how I go to work really early and I don’t enjoy fast the same raga sung by different artistes can paced songs first thing in the morning, so I ususound so unlike. That’s the beauty of music, ally start my day with something Carnatic. You each person interprets it differently. So adaptaknow how it is with Carnatic music, each raga ble and unique, but still being cohesive in its resonates differently at different times of the entirety. If ragas had personalities, Yaman Kalyani day. Understanding and learning about ragas can 40
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would personify kindness and benevolence. Yamunai Aatrile from Maniratnam’s Dalapathy featuring the gorgeous Shobana happens to be based on the same raga as well.
ting aside regrets, I feel fortunate that I can appreciate the nuances and the intricacies of Carnatic music that manifests itself in the songs that I listen to these days. The knowledge, without any doubt, takes the joy of listening to music to A close second favourite raga would be Desh. a whole new level. And, needless to say, I love Every time I listen to Desh, it paints an imagery the experience. of a tangerine overcast sky with dark, rumbling clouds. It makes me want to burst in to a song Encourage Live Concerts! by Bhairavi and prance about in green meadows wearing Vaidyanathan flowing chiffon clothes. I also remember this Having lived in Chennai for over 20 years, I old Hindi film song composed in Desh and sung have always pondered over the reasons for the probably in the highest imaginable pitch by Lata sudden laidback attitude of people with regard Mangeshkar called Aji rooth kar ab kahan jaaiyega to fine arts. Chennai is flooded with sabhas that I’d heard on an old record and admired for (halls where fine art performances happen) that years. It is about a woman in love telling her have a series of concerts lined up throughout man that he would find her wherever he went. the year. However, while the public attends conI’d heard a friend humming this song a couple certs of established Carnatic musicians with of days ago and haven’t been able to get it out great enthusiasm, they do not display similar of my head ever since. Desh also brings back zest for upcoming artistes. In recent times, we fond memories of my childhood in Delhi when indeed have had youngsters excelling in different Vande Mataram used to be played every morngenres of music including classical music. It’s ing on the radio. It is a tune so fitting in Desh to unfortunate that people’s mindset is such that be the personification of a country as diverse as audiences throng auditoriums when established India. And then of course AR Rahman came singers perform while upcoming artistes of toand changed the face of India to the world with day sit in a practically empty auditorium and sing his version of Vande Mataram. No complaints their hearts out to the walls and chairs. I think there. Sometimes, I do find it tough to recall the the reason for this attitude could be that these original tune of Vande Mataram set in Desh. days everyone is bound by time and so, people It would be total injustice to ignore the plethora prefer to sit at home and listen to concerts when of other wonderful ragas. Despite Yaman Kalyani they are aired on television or better still, see it and Desh being very close to my heart for several online on YouTube, what with even the older reasons, there are so many ragas that have generation now becoming increasingly tech savplayed key roles in my life - from Nattai being vy. the first raga I ever learnt to Sree ragam being the I earnestly feel that live demonstration of music last raga I picked up during my music learning is more challenging and should be encouraged. years. Looking back, there are several composiLive performances are challenging in the sense tions that I would have loved to learn. Yet, setthat they call for more perfection in terms of 41
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rendition as there are no chances of retakes. It requires sincerity and dedication to perform in front of a crowd without any flaws. The art of learning Carnatic music and performing on stage is a challenging task and mastering the nuances of every song and raga is by no means a cakewalk. Talented singers, particularly those who are trying to get established in the field, no doubt, look forward to appreciation and criticism from rasikas. Any artiste would be prepared to listen to a little bit of criticism rather than sing to the tables and chairs. The reality is that people do not mind waiting in long queues, under the famed and scorching Chennai sun to buy a movie ticket, or even spend money to purchase a ticket in ‘black’. But when it comes to spending it on concerts, hesitation creeps in. I would urge everyone, particularly classical music lovers, to take the effort to go out and encourage budding performers when they perform in a live concert. The encouragement will take them places and the direct and immediate impact of a good live concert on our minds is definitely worth it. Youtube, in the meantime, can sure wait!
Why I Love Carnatic Music by Jenani
Srikanth I was so glad when I noticed the topic for this month, 'Musical musings'. I wanted to share my love for Carnatic music and how it became an integral part of my life. In my family, it was a tradition to send kids to music classes to learn Carnatic music. As a child, I didn't realise the value of music and hated going to the music class. In due course of time though, I picked up some lessons and started singing. I noticed that everybody appreciated my
skill. I don't know if I really sang that well or they just encouraged me because I was a kid. But I do know that I enjoyed the appreciation that I wanted more of it. During my high school, I was put under Late Vairamangalam Sri Lakshmi Narayanan, who was a well-respected and a known personality in the Carnatic music circle. I was old enough to understand things and started to show some real interest and respect to this form of music. Learning music, according to me, is never towards a set goal. The learning itself, is the reward. As the teacher guides you, and tries to bring out the best in you, your voice begins to open up, feebly at first and then strongly, resonating with the perfection of the master's. And then he lets you go. You pick it up and to your surprise, surprise yourself with a good rendition. Ah, that joy. Years later, Carnatic music continues to play an important role in my life. When I get bored or feel low, I listen to a rejuvenating raga. It gives me the energy to carry on with life and gently lifts my spirits. Let me explain how it is like. Picture this. You have a hard day at work, come back home tired after an hour's travel. Your head is filled with blaring horns, blinking monitors and some random film song that was playing on your iPod. As you slump down on the sofa, you listen to a Carnatic song. As you start to hear the deep, resonating sound emanating from the strings of a Tanpura (the instrument that is usually employed to give the supportive Sruthi for a musician), you are half refreshed. Then begins the song, Narahari Deva composed by Sri Bhadrachala Ramdass, in the
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raga Yamuna Kalyani. Flowing like a river, the raga takes you along with all its force, freshness and little gurgles. Just as the Pallavi ends, you can't wait for more. The Anupallavi enthrals you even more. Slowly, the raga flows out, first gently as a stream, and then gets stronger and stronger. She waters fields, crosses mountains, breaks banks. Then you begin to see the little golden fish jumping up and down, the kingfisher waiting for the right moment to strike, the buffaloes lazing about taking a bath, the deer that have come down to have a drink. And finally you take the turn and get back to the first few lines. The song then ends with a simple yet pleasing note like a glass of cool water on a scorching hot summer day.
Haven't you by now forgotten everything else in the world except the amazing beauty that music makes you see? That little something that comes out of musical notes, those random images that it paints and that lovely emotion that finds a place in your voice? Doesn’t it make you light? Believe me, it does. That which ushers this change in me, my friend, is the music I love. The music that bestows on me immense satisfaction every time I listen to it or practise it. Put simply, Carnatic music is an integral part of me. I say so because it fills me with a beautiful sense of peace – one that is pure and priceless.
Ramya Shankar has completed her Masters in Computer & Information Sciences. She has undergone training in classical music & dance in her earlier years. An adventurous person by nature, she loves to try new food, work-out, bake and express her thoughts through her honest words. Always effervescent, she is sure to light up a room with her big smile. Bhairavi Vaidyanathan completed her MBA in finance and pursued her career in Accenture as a financial analyst. After tying the knot, she is now settled in the U.S. and enjoys travelling and spending time with new found friends and acquaintances. A bubbly and cheerful person, her hobbies range from classical dancing to reading and appreciating various genres of music. Jenani Srikanth is a classical singer and a homemaker residing in Nashville, U.S.
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The Lounge
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The Inner Journey Forgotten Memory by Viswanathan Subramanian A newspaper article that talks about how cultivating one’s memory is neglected these days and how the virtues of memory are now entrusted to gadgets, prompts Viswanathan Subramanian to look within and explore a valid question – “Have we misplaced the role of memory in our lives?”
Recently, I read a central page article in a Tamil newspaper on forgotten memory. It went on to highlight the importance of cultivating one’s memory and how this faculty is criminally neglected these days. Digital communication technology, according to the article, has diverted people away from the virtues of memory, and has shifted the responsibility of recording something in our human memory to a whole array of gadgets. Computers, for instance, have freed the brain of the strains of memory. It talked about how evergreen memory, elephantine memory, or memory feats are slowly becoming forgotten culture today. Further, the article expatiated on the merits of memory – how classic Tamil texts, for example, were first committed to memory and then later pondered over, and how utmost scholarship was attained, built on such memory.
When I read this article, I agreed with the writer on certain practical advantages related to the impersonal use of the technique of memory. What I call virtues of memory here, if you can term it as virtue, is the use of memory as a tool for objective knowledge. Such objective knowledge has been responsible for all that we see around us continuously, in terms of material advancement and technological capability. But the problem occurs when these so called virtues of memory spill over to the area of how we relate to the world – I mean inter-personal relationships; it doesn’t take long to realise that it is a disaster. Advantages of memory, can, at best, be termed so, only in the materialistic sense. When I read the very title of the newspaper article, ‘Forgotten Memory’, I was prompted to highlight whatever I have learnt of the misplace-
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ment of memory in our life. Let’s consider an example. If I extol Shelley for Ozymandias, there are two possibilities. Is it primarily because I committed the poem to my memory in my school days? Or, is it because of my qualitative self-captured beauty of theme and expression in this poem? Shelley’s poem is committed to memory mechanically. But when I appreciate the class and intangibles of the poem, memory becomes subservient to my qualitative perception and therefore clearly, memory is not the master here. The point is that we need to properly perceive the limited role of memory in our life and not allow memory or thought process to dictate our personal relationships. Yes, I need memory to go to office by road or do an office job or study a book or subject, but not for how I move with others. Memory flows out of the human physiological make-up. The human brain machinery builds mechanically on what it experiences as happenings in the world around us. It is a known fact that there are scientific in-roads that have been made into the mechanics of brain. Techniques have been and continue to be established on nurturing the right methods to sharpen memory skills. Memory is lauded, extraordinary memory eulogised. There are parades of memory performance in contests, where the best is respected and applauded.
‘16’ at least) is too painful a demand on students today. It’s quite obvious that memory is too much with us today. The human brain continues to be alltoo-mechanical and this has affected human mind so much that we think that all human relationships are mechanical and formulated. Such a mechanised mind is the starting point of all the conflicts and confusions prevailing around us. This brings up the all-important question: How does memory affect human relationships? Is love a function of memory? As the great thinker Jiddu Krishnamurthy put it, love is not memory. Memory – the more impersonal it is, the better. But brains mechanically churn out memories, be it impersonal or personal. Memory destroys human relationships. Pride, prejudices are all memories that restrain smooth flow of relationships. Even when one reads all this about memory, our brain again makes an intellectual concept of whatever is told or written and creates a memory-based formula. After all, your memory is not understanding, it is not intelligence. Love or intelligence falls into place, only when memory is shown its place. Love is not the opposite of hatred, as memory in an inter-personal relationship goes into judgement mode and clogs ever-expanding love.
Coming to think of it, typical school curriculum these days pays a premium on memory, rather than understanding. Such ruthless pursuit of memory forces young brains into despondency. Young guys go after digital gadgetry to relieve brains of the monotony of memory cultivation. Reciting fundamental mathematical tables (up to 46
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Love and relationships – can they be a function of the mechanical brain? The answer is no. Let thoughts be understood. Thought, by its very nature, divides; it divides by creating ‘me’ and ‘you’. They do have their rightful place in impersonal matters like learning how to drive a car, scientific pursuits etc. By our perception of nature of memory, thought, and giving its rightful place, we are thus out of the constraining limitation of memory. We have all-embracing, expanding awareness – a mind without measure. But do remember: Do not create a technique of
what is conveyed here. What is needed is the perception of the truth. Or else, you are into another vicious circle! Let us possibly continue our exploration with the concise ULLADU NARPADU (Forty Verses on Reality) by Bhagawan Ramana Maharishi, with specific reference to Memory. – to be continued in the next issue.
Viswanathan Subramanian was a banker for over 35 years. In his new retired life, he loves poring over business newspapers and journals and making notes. Spirituality also interests him, and so a good number of Sri Ramana Maharishi’s and Jiddu Krishnamurthy’s books find space in his bookshelf. He is extremely passionate about movies and music too. You are sure to find some good old English movie DVDs and an enormous collection of old mp3 Hindi and Tamil songs at his place!
This month’s Spark features a lovely artwork too. See the back cover of this edition.
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Storyboard| Film Freak
On Action Films and Genre Tolerance by Yayaati Joshi
In his monthly column, Film Freak, Yayaati Joshi, this month, picks two films to illustrate how movies in the ‘action’ genre need not be all about gore and violence but could also be about nuanced and subtle filmmaking. He insists that people who do not tolerate ‘action’ as a genre and dismiss many good movies that broadly fall under this category, indeed miss a lot by not watching such films. Catch him discussing Bronson and Violent Cop.
Some people find violence in movies so repulsive that when asked to pick their favourite film, their mind immediately blocks off all films in the ‘action’ genre. But filmmaking is such a complex task, and has so many different variables involved that the final product, at times, can hardly be labelled as an ‘action film’, the violence notwithstanding. Now, this is only a serious film watcher’s lament, because for most people, films are fillers—distractions that provide their minds some relief from the regular humdrum of their lives.
amples of how nuanced and subtle filmmaking can become—even when dealing with gruesome protagonists. I found the task of drawing parallels between these two films very entertaining— not only because the “action” is a mere incidental “prop” in both these films, but also because their protagonists are somewhat mangled in their ideologies themselves. One is on the wrong side of the law, and yet manages to win our sympathies, while the other on the right side of the law (in fact a cop) might not appeal to the previously described people who take genres at face value, not wanting to look beyond them at This time around, I’d like to pick two films— a film, on its own terms. broadly falling in the action genre, but great ex48
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Google Images
Bronson, made to depict the life of Charles Bronson, facilely known as the “most violent prisoner in Britain”, is almost aptly named: any tagline might have given away the charm that emanates from a single-worded film, that too when it is named after a notorious character. Directed by Nicholas Winding Refn, the Danish director who shot to fame later with Drive, the film is presented with many abstractions—sometimes in the linear narrative, sometimes as a soliloquy, and amidst the back and forth lapses of time, one finds Tom Hardy at his best (at the time of writing this, The Dark Knight Rises was not released, and Hardy’s much anticipated role in the film has not been taken into account). Raw, violent, maniacal, and even child-like in some shots, Hardy gives the loathsome character a streak of weakness— making him more appealing. The “most violent prisoner in Britain” has a soft side to him too. Here’s an instance. When a woman who he had been fornicating, tells him that she’s about to get married, the look on Hardy’s face shows dismay and embarrassment—an acknowledgement that he might be strong, but is not capable (“You’ve no ambition,” says the woman.)
nist of the Japanese film, Violent Cop, who in the very first shot of the film, chases a feisty teenager down to his room and manhandles him like a regular criminal (the teenager was troubling a handicapped person). For someone steeped in action films, this scene is important—it establishes the ruthlessness of the character without the unnecessary gore that some Indian films have lately indulged in. Very soon we find out that like Bronson, Azuma too is a misfit— because both Brosnon and Azuma do not fit completely into the definitions of an ideal prisoner and an ideal cop, respectively. Another similarity between both the characters is that people do respect them, but because of their violent ways, they keep their distance.
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As for the movies, action films often have very high ratings on IMDB (and Rotten Tomatoes), but the “act” always suffers when priority is given to action. But both these films are exceptions to the rule—compare the dramatic performance on stage in Bronson and Detective Azuma’s serious gaze and terse dialogue delivery in Violent Cop to any high-brow award winning film, and you Belonging to the same subset of ideologies, but have a winner. Both films show protagonists in on the other side of the fence is Detective positions of power, yet trapped by circumstance; Azuma(played by Takeshi Kitano), the protago- they make strong handed, but feeble-hearted Spark—July 2012 | Musical Musings
attempts to escape their own mental prisons. While motives for Bronson are not clear, Azuma obviously wants to be a man of the law—and in doing so, wants to leave no stone unturned to get the right thing done. His bane is that like Bronson, he is never clearly understood—most viewers see him as a man on an unnamed mission with uncalled for violent activity. The threads between them are etched deeper than it seems on the surface.
that is served to the film-watcher with guns blazing and curses echoing in chaotic situations. For some kind of films, the only publicity is through word-of-mouth. Watching these films will make you realise that Oscars never truly represent filmmaking as an art on a holistic basis—and make you understand what people who are not genre tolerant miss—to them, an action film embodies the violence that they personally dislike—and in this strict selection of movies, gems like these get left out, and are written and Take my advice: watch both these films in sucspoken about only by real film freaks. cession—to free your mind of the usual action
Yayaati Joshi is a man with simple tastes and intense beliefs. Contrary to the bling associated with the capital city, he prefers the company of close friends, an engaging book or an Alfred Hitchcock movie. His placid demeanour is often mistaken for reticence; Yayaati is a self-proclaimed loner, whose recent pursuits include his foray as a budding writer. Yayaati blogs at http://rantingsofadelusionalmind.wordpress.com.
Do you own a copy of our anthology, ‘Sparkling Thoughts’? Order it now at http://pothi.com/pothi/book/anupamakrishnakumar-sparkling-thoughts
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Slice of Life Jai Ho! by Gauri Trivedi Songs can do wonders: Gauri Trivedi tells us how one song made her feel more accepted in her foreign land.
Music transcends boundaries. It took me three years and four months and a hip-hop performance from a small dance school tucked away in a quiet suburb of the ‘Beaver’ State to be convinced.
do considering that it had so much of ‘India’ in it – but not before I read Vikas Swarup’s ‘Q & A’ (being more of a reader then a movie watcher). I was also curious to know if this movie that revolved around a game show and a romantic lead was as “Oscar-worthy” as it was made out 22nd February, 2009 was no ordinary day for to be. In my modest opinion, the movie was as Indians. A shy music composer with a divinely gimmicky as the book! extraordinary talent went on to win the Oscar for his song ‘Jai Ho’ from the movie ‘Slumdog During that year and in a different State/place, I Millionaire.’ The audience stood up in applause volunteered at the local library, the only person as an Indian music composer walked away with at that point of time who hailed from the land the highest recognition in the world of cinema. of Slumdog Millionaire. Over the next couple of The less privileged applauded in front of their weeks, post the broadcast of the Academy television sets. Awards on television, I became a reasonably sought-after source of information at my workI shared the pride and triumph with millions of place. Co-workers wanted to know if there were Indians at home and abroad. Slumdog Millionany houses with decent toilets in India. They aire got India into the limelight (not necessarily also asked if India was as terribly crowded as for the right reasons), but overnight everybody shown in the movie and if people danced on the was talking about the movie and the song which road every day. Many of these questions smelled got an Academy award. I watched the movie of a tiny bit of disdain mixed with inquisitivesoon enough – it seemed like the least I could 51
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ness. I enjoyed the attention but hated being quizzed on the stereotype of a developing nation that the movie had created with all its visuals of poverty and grime. It was an outsider’s view of my country and I did not fully agree with it, and I made that part very clear whenever an opportunity came by. Fortunately for me, I did get a chance to showcase nice things about India too as some of the people I worked with were genuinely impressed by the film and Google Images its music. The volunteer manager at the library wanted information on the book on which the movie was based and she also had a long chat with me on how humble she thought the brilliant music composer looked as he accepted the award for that immensely catchy song. She read the book, then watched the movie and one day as I left the library, she handed me a handwritten piece of paper on which she had jotted down a list of words for me to decipher for her. The list contained ‘Bhel Puri,’ ‘Holi’ and many such other words native to the Indian culture and lifestyle. And yet, apart from the initial euphoria, I never felt that the achievement by an Indian made any difference to my life. The cultural tolerance and acceptance theory felt like an allegory to me. I was different, a non-native, an outsider and (though legal), a possible immigrant. Not until today.
The lights go dim and the stage glimmers in soft lights. A familiar music starts playing and a group of pretty girls dressed in colourful outfits start to occupy the stage one after the other. The song picks momentum and with it the stage comes alive, musical and vibrant. The lyrics flow in waves as the young artistes swing to the beat, their costumes adding even more colour and shine to the recital. I am mesmerized by the long skirts and embellished tops, modified to resemble the traditional Indian outfit of Ghaghra-Choli, the plaited hair-dos and prominent Bindis making colorful circles on their foreheads. The dance itself is trendy and fast paced, choreographed beautifully, keeping in mind the energy and skill levels of the eight-year-old participants. The girls smile as they swirl and jump and do their number on the stage. They do not understand a word of what the song speaks to them and yet every one of them is singing it in bits and parts as they dance to its tune. They carry themselves with utter grace, not showing any sign of awkwardness in the alien attire. The bindis gleam even from a distance, as these young artistes enthrall the audience. Looking around, I see the rest of the spectators enjoying this performance as much as the previous one, unfazed by the words they cannot comprehend. If anything, there is a faint recognition of the song on many of their faces, and it is perhaps not as for-
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eign to them as I presumed it to be. I find it hard to concentrate, caught between the dance and the song. It isn’t the piece of music alone or the dance by itself, it is the mélange that it repre-
sents; the acceptance it conveys, which stirs something deep inside, a feeling of assimilation that gathers as a lump in my throat and refuses to subside.
Gauri Trivedi is a former business law professional who makes the law at home these days. A mom to two lovely daughters, her days are filled with constant learning and non - stop fun. All of her “mommy time” goes into writing and finds itself on her blog pa ge s h t t p: / / m e s sy h o me l o ve ly k id s. b l o g s p ot .c o m/ a nd h tt p :/ / pastaandparatha.blogspot.com/ and if she is not writing she is definitely reading something!
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Art Persephone’s Melody by Amrita Sarkar
Amrita Sarkar is an English literature graduate from Kolkata. She has also completed her Post graduation Diploma from the Asian College of Journalism, Chennai. As for her interests, her love for cartoons, drawing, painting and stories began from childhood and continues till date. When her imagination could not be held any longer within the scarce recesses, she decided to cast them in moving shapes. This led to her completing a graduate diploma in animation and film making.
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