More tales
 Rajam rises and asks me to accompany him to the room in the rear, which is where he rests in the afternoon. Mrs Rajam walks by slowly and I chat with her for a few minutes. As is always the case, during such visits, we exchange some pleasantries.
Rajam then resumes the tale of Ambi
Dikshitar.
“He was of a dark complexion and was short in stature. He would wear his
dhoti in the panchakacham style and invariably his upper body would remain uncovered. He wore no
rudraksha beads, but applied plenty of vibhuti on himself. His voice was deep and of a low
sruti and could easily touch the pancama in the lower octave.
"Do you know that most Muttuswami Dikshitar kritis have at least one line, which require you to traverse to the pancama in the lower octave? That is what gave them that rock-like stability. Ambi Dikshitar could easily manage to sing such lines without any loss of clarity.” (Here Rajam demonstrated Surya Murte as Ambi Dikshitar would sing it).
“He was very much an adherent of Acaram (avoiding physical contact) and anuShTAnam (rituals). He would not even have a glass of water in our house. The only thing he ever took from here was a vessel with some vaDAms (fritters). He began giving me lessons. The first rAga he took up was shuddha dhanyAsi. Can you guess which was the song?”
 “Must have been subrahmaNyEna or shrI
pArtasArathi,” I said.
“Ha! That is where you are mistaken. He took up enta nErcina! I was privileged to learn a
Tyagaraja kriti from a descendant of the Muttuswami Dikshitar lineage. Can you guess why he took up such a rAga? My own feeling is that he felt that a rAga with simple straight notes would help a beginner. Later, of course, he taught me many Muttuswami Dikshitar kritis, most notable being the navagraha
kritis.”
“In candram bhaja mAnasa, did he teach you the line kamanIya vara kaTaka rAshyAdhipam, which is sung by the Calcutta school founded by his disciple A Anantakrishna
Iyer,” I ask.
 “No. He did not. It was not in his pAThAntaram. He patiently noted down the songs for me in a book. I had it with me for many years. Then when we shifted residence from Pammal to Mylapore, I lost it. At that time I did not know that he had composed kritis on his own. I, therefore, did not have an opportunity to learn them. However, personally I feel he need not have used the
'guruguha' mudra. Look at the endless confusion this has caused.”
The conversation drifts to Papanasam
Sivan.
“He lived in a lane off Mattala Narayanan
Street. Do you know several others also lived in the same lane? There was Maruttuvakkudi Rajagopala Iyer and the son of Umayalpuram Swaminatha Iyer. Also if I
remember right, Turaiyur Rajagopala Sarma. Sivan would come every day and teach me songs. It was next to impossible to identify what he was singing for the first half-an- hour. Then his brilliance would shine forth. I
learnt so many songs from him. Poor man, he was ever in want. He would occasionally ask my father for a loan of Rs 10. Those were days when with ten rupees you could manage the household for a month.
 "On certain days at lunch time, while I would hurry home I would come across Mylapore Gowri, in her
pyjamas and other dance accoutrements, accompanied by a small team of musicians, walking across to the temple. How beautiful she looked! Just like a bronze icon. Dark in complexion, but with lovely features. She would be proceeding to the temple for her murai dance at the time of the
ucci kAla (mid-day) puja. There she would wave the lamp and do a small dance and return.
"My father sent me to her for learning some songs. Her house was in Kutchery Lane, just at the point where the lane bends. She would do abhinayam even while sitting and singing. It came to her naturally and was not in the least put
on." (Here Rajam sang Ettanai shOnnAlum and moved his arms the way she used to while singing.)
"When the anti-Devadasi bill was passed, Gowri was thrown out of her home. Later, she lived in Mundakanni Amman
Street. Her son worked in the AIR. He was an alcoholic. So she would come to AIR every
month in a rickshaw and collect his salary a day earlier than payday. Her last years were very unhappy. Her spirit though, remained unbroken.
 "Adam Street Venkatarama Iyer was a violinist who lived, as his name suggests, in Adam Street. He was quite mediocre in his playing, but he had any number of students and largely survived by that. He used to organise Tyagaraja Aradhana in his house. The house itself was so tiny that only so many people could be inside it at any time. So we used to take turns and sing and come away. But look at the man’s generosity. Somehow he used to feed everyone who came to sing. Such kindness is hard to come by today.
"In Chittoor Subramanya Pillai’s house, in Appu Mudali Street, on the ground floor lived Madurai Subramanya Ayya, the violinist and
guru of
G N Balasubramaniam. Ariyakkudi lived in Nadu Street. Sometimes, I would also get to see
Prof Sambamoorthy, on a rickshaw. His sole possession would be a briefcase, inside which would be reams and reams of paper. He would always be taking notes and but for that habit of his, so much of valuable information would have got lost by now. Ariyakkudi and several others felt that he was dwelling too much on theory and would derisively refer to him as
'Sumbamoorthy'.
 "Talking about Ariyakkudi, he liked to have tiffin varieties for breakfast. But that was never the practice in our house and my father told him so. Ariyakkudi had great respect for my father and therefore made his own arrangements. He would get three idlis for himself from a neighbouring hotel and having kept aside two-and-a-half, would offer me the remaining half! Such was his majesty that I always felt that it was an honour to share that
idli.”
The sun is setting and the bells of
Kapaleeswarar temple are ringing out, calling to the faithful to come and attend the evening service. Rajam’s paintings have long dried out and are ready to be put away. I rise and checking a powerful impulse to hug this wonderful human being, politely wish him a good evening and step out. As I climb down the narrow staircase, I can hear Rajam moving his chair and sitting once again at his workplace. The chime of the bells is becoming louder and louder as I step into the street, as though calling the attention of one and all to the proud heritage of
Mylapore.
Do you wish to buy Rajam’s sketch pads? Buy them now from
http://www.sangeetham.com/others/srajam_sketch.php3
Part
- I
Powered by
Sangeetham.com
|
An afternoon with S Rajam - Part II
