Sunday, December 23, 2012

U Ve Saa

Musical side of ‘Tamil Thathaa’

U. Ve. Swaminatha Iyer. Photo: M.Srinath

As a teacher, U.V. Swaminatha Iyer would sing Tamil verses in one raaga or other
For Tamil lovers, he was the grand old man — ‘Tamil Thathaa’ — who rescued palm leaf manuscripts containing ancient Tamil literature from the marauding army of hungry termites and published them. U.V. Swaminatha Iyer had another face. Formally trained in classical music, a family vocation, he even had the privilege of learning directly from Gopalakrishna Bharathiar, the author of Nandan Charithiram. He, however, had to quit learning music because his Tamil teacher Meenakshi Sundaram Pillai was against it.
As a Tamil teacher, he would sing verses in one raaga or other, before explaining them to students.
In fact, the first part of En Charithiram, his autobiography, Swaminatha Iyer talks more about music than Tamil. Besides, giving a lot of details of outstanding musicians of his time, he penned biographies of Ganam Krishna Iyer, his grandmother’s uncle, and Gopalakrishna Bharathiar. In his book, he eloquently describes the popularity of Nandan Charithiram.
His father Venkatasubramania Iyer and his younger brother Chinnasamy Iyer were accomplished musicians, eking out a livelihood by giving kathakalakshebam on the Ramayana across the State. Chinnasamy Iyer was a veena player.
Both Swaminatha Iyer and his father had learnt from Gopalakrishna Bharathiar and his father made it a point to sing Nandan Charithira Keerthanas in his kalakshebam. He had a copy of the book presented to him by Gopalakrishna Bharathiar and Swaminatha Iyer kept the book till his last days.
Incidentally, Ganam Krishna Iyer, famous for singing “ganam” and was the asthana vidwan of Thanjavur, Tiruvidai Maruthur and Udayarpalayam, had taught Gopalakrishna Bharathiar. Krishna Iyer composed a keerthana in atanaraga “summa summa varumo sugam” on the advice of Saint Thiyagaraja.
Swaminatha Iyer’s father actually wanted him to pursue a career in music and was satisfied with his talent when he had a chance to listen to him singing a Nanda Charithira keerthana, “theeyil moozhginar thirunalay povar” in kaanada.
He also wanted him to learn Sanskrit and Telugu, a prerequisite of all musicians of his period. Iyer turned his back on Telugu.
Swaminatha Iyer’s first encounter with Gopalakrishna Bharathiar, who he saw walking with a bamboo stick for support, on the streets of Mayiladuthurai was vividly described in his autobiography.
“I was surprised by his unkempt figure. I wondered whether it was this man who penned Nandan Charithiram? Though his work was high in my estimation, his body structure did not appeal to me,” recalled Swaminatha Iyer, who was angry with Bharathiyar, for criticising Meenakshi Sundaram Pillai for not having an ear for music.
But his estimation of Bharathiar changed after he started learning under him.
“As I moved closer with him, I realised he was a genius. Since his voice was not good, he learnt the violin and used to play it when he was alone. I learnt many songs from him,” said Iyer.
Swaminatha Iyer also had the opportunity of listening to Mahavaidhyanatha Iyer and his brother Ramasamy Iyer.
His autobiography is a delight not just to a lover of Tamil, but also to music buffs. His love for Tamil music comes out clearly in the book.
“There are a lot of Tamil keerthanas penned by those whose expertise in music was matched by their talent for composing. But they disappeared for lack of patronage. Thousands of Tamil keerthanas existed in the county. They perfectly suited the Carnatic ragas. Now, people do not hesitate to say there are no keerthanas in Tamil. All this happened in a period of sixty years,” apparently referring to the trend created by the popularity of the songs of Carnatic Trinity.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Virtual Gurukulam


Logging on to the virtual gurukulam

ROHAN KRISHNAMURTHY




To briefly rehash a standard historical narrative, Carnatic music is one of the world’s oldest and most complex musical traditions, its provenance dating back nearly 4,000-years. This divine, unbroken tradition has been passed down, for generations, from teacherto student in a traditional apprentice system calledgurukulavasaGurukulavasa students live with their teachers for years and perform household chores in exchange for intensive and holistic musical training. Instilling the essential feeling of guru bhakti or devotion towards the teacher, gurukulavasa training has produced hallowed guru-shishya paramparaor musical lineages over the centuries.
Almost all Carnatic music aficionados would have come across this concise history of the musical form at some point. Yet, even a cursory examination of Carnatic music as it is practised today reveals how much the tradition has changed from its venerated past. Perhaps there is no better example of the changing landscape of Carnatic music than the phenomenon of online training, where teachers and students, often separated by thousands of miles, exchange complex musical information through audio and video-conferencing programmes such as Skype and Google Talk.
Virtual gurukulavasa, as I dub the new online pedagogical system, might appear to be a hard sell for an ancient, guru-centred tradition. Yet, online teaching has become so widespread today — lessons are offered for everything from Carnatic vocal to morsing — that virtually anyone who can teach online does teach online. I became fascinated with this radically new system of techno-pedagogy and chose to pursue it as the topic of my PhD dissertation, focusing on the realm of Carnatic percussion (mridangam, ghatam, kanjira, and konnakol vocal percussion). I arrived in Chennai in August to conduct ethnographic fieldwork to study the musical, social, and cultural impact of virtual music lessons in Carnatic percussion.
My research collaborators include some of the most distinguished performer-teachers in Chennai who have endorsed online teaching. I will share a few interesting points from my research that are of general interest to anyone interested in online education and, especially, online music education.
The main demand for online teaching, as of now, comes from the Indian diaspora — Indian immigrants in America who settled thousands of miles from their homeland for professional advancement. The appeal of online teaching for this diasporic community is apparent. Parents can encourage their second-generation Indian-American children to receive musical training from popular performers in Chennai and, in turn, stay connected to their cultural heritage from the comfort of their own homes.
In spite of the serious challenges in virtual music education, such as audio/video lag (which prevents teacher and student from performing tasks simultaneously), substandard audio and video quality, call drops, and limited musical and social interaction between teacher and student, virtual lessons are undeniably convenient for both parties. And after all, the technology, when fully operational, appears to simulate face-to-face training.
But why would online performer-teachers in Chennai take time out of their hectic, international performance schedules to teach beginner-and-intermediate-level students over the Internet? The primary incentive, many of my collaborators admit, is economic. One of my collaborators put it succinctly: “Teaching online is the easiest way to earn in American dollars and spend in rupees.” Thanks to the dollar-rupee conversion rate, Chennai teachers are able to get five times or more as fees than what local students can afford to pay. Economic gain is certainly not the only motivation for teaching online. Just as online teaching allows the Indian diaspora to stay connected to Indian teachers, so too does it allow Indian teachers to stay connected to their students by offering regular, weekly training.
The immigrant appeal
In this technology-driven, global cultural and economic exchange, I speculate that immigrant parents are the essential cultural and economic link that actively connects Indian-American students (who represent “western culture”) with Chennai teachers (who represent authentic “Indian culture”). There is, thus, no mystery as to why online teaching in Carnatic music is as popular as it is: the technology is available, there is a clear cultural demand from the Indian immigrant population and Chennai teachers are ready to supply their artistic expertise, so long as the price is right.
Many Indian immigrant parents that I have spoken to are concerned that online teaching might simply be a profitable business venture for teachers based in Chennai. Hesitant to log on to the virtual bandwagon, they ask me whether online training is “as effective” or “as good” as in-person training. It appears that the two systems of pedagogy are so different that teachers do not even compare one with the other; to do so is “like comparing apples and oranges” or, more aptly, “like comparing virtual and real-life experiences.”
There is no denying that virtual lessons can be an effective way to transmit knowledge, as the rise of distance learning in all walks of education suggests. And for the majority of Indian-American students of Carnatic music who are pre-college music hobbyists, online lessons can provide a reasonable quality of musical education as they pursue their goal of gaining admission to top U.S. colleges to pursue “serious”, non-music-related degrees.
Nevertheless, some important questions remain as this techno-pedagogy reaches its ten-year anniversary. What does the popularity of virtual music lessons today mean for the Carnatic music tradition? Is online education merely a new, transnational tool for disseminating an ancient tradition or is this the beginning of a new, virtual tradition of virtual performers and audiences, virtual instruments, and virtual payment? Just as virtual lessons simulate real-life teaching, does a virtual tradition only simulate a real-life tradition? How far can a student progress online without face-to-face training? Can a shishya ever become a guru having only undergone virtual gurukulavasa?
These are serious questions to ponder this month as Chennai celebrates one of the largest (and, as of yet, live and real-life) music festivals in the world.
(The author is an international percussion performer, researcher, and entrepreneur and a PhD candidate in musicology at the Eastman School of Music, University of Rochester, New York, as a Provost’s Fellow.)

Monday, August 13, 2012

It takes shraddhA to succeed!


Facebook, a curse or boon?


Vikatan is great fun!










A loving second home!

 Young boys pick drumstick at the garden they look after at the AIM for Seva student home in Anaikatti
Computer lab at the girls' home


Chhatralayas for tribal children across the country aim to give them a better chance in life.
Eight-year-old Krishnadas no longer needs to travel 14 km through dense jungle to get to school every day.
Savithri, who used to study by the light of dim oil lamps, now has access to electricity from solar power.
Nandakumar, the son of a railway porter, dreams of becoming an IAS officer.
It is late evening. Several girls are busy studying in a typical South Indian style courtyard surrounded by rooms. The walls are decorated with colourful paintings done by them, and their mattresses and personal effects are neatly stacked inside the rooms. There is a sense of cleanliness and discipline.
This is the scene in a chhatralaya, or student’s home, for tribal children in Anaikatti near Coimbatore, run by AIM for Seva, an initiative of Swami Dayananda Saraswati of Arsha Vidya Gurukulam. The first chhatralaya was started in 2000. Today, there are 90 chhatralayas in 14 States across the country, from Karnaprayag to Kanyakumari. They are supervised by well-trained people with a passion for serving the needy.
With a twinkle in his eye, Swami Dayananda Saraswati recalls the incident that sparked off the project: “We were constructing a water pipeline from the forests to the plains for the local people when a tribal woman mentioned that it was impossible for their children to come to school as they had to travel a long distance through the jungle, which swarmed with elephants. This was the trigger which made us start the All India Movement for Seva.”
The very first chhatralaya was, in fact, set up in Anaikatti. It was a single-storeyed student’s home, accommodating 100 boys studying from second to twelfth standard. Another one was soon built for girls.
“Most of our young ones are first-generation school goers,” says Velumani, the warden of the boy’s home, “and required some guidance. In spite of my NGO background, it took me a while to learn how to work with them. Now I am enjoying the work.”
Typically, the children’s day starts at 5 a.m., and in an hour they are ready for prayer, followed by breakfast and study time. They are off to school by 9 a.m., and return around 5 p.m. After evening prayers, they sit for studies and go to bed at 9 after a healthy and sumptuous dinner.
Who takes care of the daily maintenance of these chhatralayas? The children themselves. As Bhagyam, the warden of the girl’s home, explains, “They do the cleaning, wash their own clothes and vessels, and help in the kitchen to cut vegetables. This helps them become more responsible and independent. There is a group leader for every standard who helps the other students.”
“All the akkas take good care of me,” says little Sindhu Bharati, 8, the youngest in the Anaikatti girl’s home. “They help me in washing my clothes, and doing my hair. I am learning a lot from them.” She has been here for three years.
Clarifying this arrangement, one parent explained, “My daughter seldom falls sick and likes engaging herself in all the activities.”
Surrounded by hills, both the chhatralayas offer a scenic view, and have enough open space to grow vegetables. As all the children are trained in gardening as a part of vocational training, the garden is a busy place. Fourteen-year-old Nandakumar proudly points out, “We have grown and maintained jackfruit trees, gooseberry trees and onions.” The girls grow tomato and lady’s finger in their garden. The girls get tailoring lessons as well.
Equipped with 14 computers, the home ensures that the children also acquire a basic knowledge of computers. “Twelfth standard students who have taken computer science in school teach the others about its use in our computer lab,” says Velumani. “A few volunteers from outside also come and help them,” adds Bhagyam.
There are plenty of other activities on offer. While there are classical dance, music and sloka classes, the air also reverberates with the sound of foot-thumping tribal dances accompanied by tabla, drums and harmonium, all played by the children. “Every year we have a cultural programme where the girls and boys showcase their talent in music and dance,” says Bhagyam.
The AIM for Seva movement receives financial support from the NRI community, and some individuals within India, but more aid will make it possible to implement the larger vision they have. Swami Dayananda Saraswati says he would like to establish chhatralayas in every district of the country, as children in many parts of the country do not have access to education. The need is very high, he says and is hopeful of making it a reality.
“We have approached government departments, private entities and corporate sectors for funds,” says Sheela Balaji, secretary of the AIM for Seva movement. “We hope they will come forward and support us.”
With dedicated members and more likeminded individuals contributing to the cause, the long-term vision of the programme appears promising.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Transcendental experience


Transcendental experience


Ideas, influences, artistry and study combine ingeniously in Sudharani Raghupathy, who talks about her artistic journey.

If her eyes convey fluid emotion when she demonstrates a padam, her graceful illustrations have dignity. Small wonder then that celebrated Bharatanatyam artist Sudharani Raghupathy’s winning combination of sheer artistry, diligence and study have brought her many awards. This month she completes 65 years in the Bharatanatyam field.
In a chat, she muses about her early years of learning Bharatanatyam and voices her philosophies:
My earliest recollections of learning natyam are of the time when I was three years old at Uthukudi in Pollachi district. Our neighbour and friend, Saraswati, a most cultured lady, would perform Tulsi puja for which she would sing Purandara Dasa Devarnamas. I can recall the sublime way she emoted during the song. It was at her urging that I began basic training in the art under her. The tales of Puranas that I learnt and the Harikathas performed in the village frame these tender moments.
My father moved to Bangalore, when I was around five. It was then that I came under the tutelage of U.S. Krishna Rao, an associate of my father. Following the advent of the legendary Guru Kittappa Pillai to Bangalore, I began training under him where I could I continue in the same bani.
My arangetram was presided over by the then mayor, where specifics such as the make-up and costume were kept to the essentials. The main piece I performed was the Khamas varnam, ‘Saminee Ramanave,’ a composition that is a litmus test for the dancer’s abilities.
Talking about this varnam brings to mind Vadhyar’s (Guru Kittappa Pillai) way of instructing me: the process of delineation and enlarging upon the poetic term. He would teach seated and after instructing me about the principal idea, he would then employ the method of suggestions and questions to help me expand on the idea.
When it came to technique, he was famed for his emphasis on the precise way of holding the spine. Learning in this style, one gained the knowledge of drawing vitality from the straight-backed stance.
Another association I cherish is that of the late Kamala Devi Chattopadyay, cultural ambassador. As I accompanied her on her tours to meet artisans, I imbibed a lot about textiles and handicraft. Rukmini Devi‘s positive guidance was another blessing I am proud of.
Precious memory
Among the concerts that I cherish, during the years that my literary and dance education progressed, was the one witnessed by Jawaharlal Nehru and the young Indira Gandhi in Bangalore during my school days. Years later when she became Prime Minister, she recalled this performance in a conversation with me in New Delhi. Another warm memory is my explaining the fine points of Bharatanatyam to a group of Russian artists in English. With Vadhyar by my side reassuring and guiding me, I demonstrated to them the niceties of Bharatanatyam - a trend setter for such sessions in those days.
After I had completed my Bachelor’s degree in Philosophy and Sociology, this experience helped me become the first Indian at the Randolph Macon’s Women’s College, Virginia, U.S. I majored in world history of dance and learnt the Martha Graham technique in modern dance, as well as western music from Elaine St Vincent.
How did I relate the stimuli of modern dance with my performance and choreography of Bharatanatyam? If control was drilled in, in Martha Graham’s system, the same concept of restraint was emphasised by Vadhyar - to depict themes not explicitly but in a refined way.
The engaging of the elongated bearing of the torso, the flow of grace from the back and the breathing skills in modern dance were useful pointers in my own art.
After coming to Chennai and my marriage, I had the good fortune to meet and develop further the art of abhinaya from doyennes such as Mylapore Gowri Ammal and Balasaraswati. I soon found that learning under them was anything but formal. After commencing with the primary piece, be it ‘Aasai Mukham Marandu Poche,’ or ‘Velavare,’ Gowri Ammal would launch into an hour-long elucidation of the same kirtanam or padam. I would watch astounded as her creativity took flight and she embarked on these fascinating descriptions.
To enhance my knowledge, I began to bring together jatis from gifted artists in the field. Such interactions with renowned elders and colleagues have sustained and strengthened me on the long road of my performing and teaching career.
As a teacher of the art, certain key areas that I stress on are sharpening the inner awareness that there is as much bhava in nritta as in abhinaya (though it is channeled differently), the moulding of the expression of the idea that arises within oneself and the training of the dynamics of the natyam. Yet, while the teacher can instruct, much depends on the urge that drives the learner. It is this passion that will take the art further than what is taught; otherwise the lesson will remain a pale imitation of the substance. I have carried forward these ideals through my institution Sree Bharatalaya, established in 1970.
The electronic media is a boon to the art. I have recorded for Doordarshan, both in the black and white era and later in colour in the 1980s, a series titled ‘A guided understanding of Bharatanatyam,’ which featured my students as well as sessions by prominent artists. My DVDs also shed light on the intricacies of the subject.
The book, ‘Laghu Bharatham,’ in three volumes, is a veritable encyclopaedia on the art. It is the result of years of my research and consultations with scholars and experts and the inputs of my students. The documentation of Arayar Sevai of Srivilliputtur was done with the same intensity.
My generation holds as a repository all that was imbibed from the great masters of the art, the fruits of our own experience and a convergence of corresponding fonts of art and culture. Now, we wish to communicate and transfer these as precious legacies to the successive set of artists and students.
In recent years the internet has been gaining momentum as another medium of instruction. It transcends boundaries where classes of dance and music on skype are quite popular. The thirst for knowledge and learning capacity of the young generation is amazing and is a heartening sign for the art. One may ask, what is the place of the Teacher/performer and of Bharatanatyam in this environment?
I hold that while the computer is virtual reality, Bharatanatyam is the perceptible reality. One can replicate and communicate through the net, but when one actually performs ‘Krishna Nee Begane’ live, it ‘brings’ Krishna to the rasikas. This transcendental experience is what genuine art is all about. With these words, she underlines the essence of a great artist.
Recognition
A few of the prestigious awards given to her are Padma Sri, Central Sangeet Natak Akademi Award and Kalaimamani (Tamil Nadu State award). She will also be conferred with Natyacharya Award by The Music Academy at their annual festival later this year.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Italians and samskritam


Italians turn Sanskrit students



Sanskrit scholar A. Raja Sastrigal performs Kalasa Theertha on Italian couple Flavio and his wife who underwent training in Sanskrit hymns and mantras at a Veda Patashala in Karuvadikuppam in Puducherry on Saturday. —DC

Influenced by the spirituality and Hindu way of life, 23 Italians, including a couple from the Vatican, underwent a crash course in learning Sanskrit hymns and mantras at the Veda Patashala in Karuvadikuppam on Sunday. Amid vedic chants, A. Raja Sastrigal gave diksha to the Italians.
Raja Sastrigal, who conducted the coaching lasting three hours, said the team had come to Puducherry after undergoing basic coaching at the Vatican during his visit in 2009. Italians Flavio and his wife Spanio came to me several years ago after visiting my website, Raja Sastrigal told Deccan Chronicle, adding that the couple was eager to learn Sanskrit hymns and the Vedas. They felt that India is a karmabhoomi where alone they could have the efficacy of learning ancient Sanskrit hymns and mantras.
Inclined towards Hindu tradition and beliefs, the couple underwent a crash course in Puducherry after undergoing basic coaching in Italy during his visit. The team, comprising doctors, engineers and teachers, came to Puducherry referred by Flavio. Today, the team underwent practices in reciting Sri Rudra Chamakam, Rudrajapam, Srisuktham and the Upanishads. The team would visit Puducherry again a few months later for more intensive practices.
Raja Sastrigal said he was impressed by the correct pronunciation, phonetics and ebb and flow of the trainees in uttering the mantras like an Indian scholar would, adding that all of them also got sacred Hindu names. The training today lasted three hours and was imparted to the team eager to learn the deva basha (God’s language).
He also performed kalasa theertha ritual (sprinkling of holy water) on the trainees as per the rituals of Hindu religion at the end of the practice. The Veda Patashala was charged with spiritual ambience and the participation of the foreigners drew the attention of everyone.