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The bhajanai party could be heard at a distance. Cutting through the silence of Edward Elliots road, its music entered the upper storey of Srirangavilas. Rao Saheb V P Ramakrishna Ayyar, K C S I sat up in bed. In the darkness he opened his right palm and peered at it.
Years ago his grandmother, had taught him the practice and he had never wavered from it. Those were simpler times, he thought to himself. Not like now, what with the World War in progress and the city being evacuated. Food rationing!
Only the last evening he had expressed his concern to the Governor, at the Government House garden party. And now even music had not been spared. These Tamizh Isai lobbyists, demanding that concerts in Madras presidency must now be sung only in Tamizh! What was there in
Tamizh?
“Kana vendamo”, the bhajanai was coming closer. V P moved across the room to the large glass doors that opened out on to the verandah. Standing behind a curtain, he could see Mannargudi Mahadeva Bhagavatar leading the pack. The singers had all come to the massive cast iron gates that walled in
Srirangavilas.
Standing outside, they were waiting for V P’s mother to come out. Even as the song progressed, V P could see the gates being opened. His wife was leading his mother slowly down the drive. She was holding a large silver bowl which she had filled with rice and lentils. His mother was supporting herself painfully with a walking stick. It appeared to V P that the blackguard Mahadevan was singing louder than ever for his exclusive benefit.
Till the previous year, it had been the practice for the bhajanai group to walk into the compound and assemble at the large verandah where during the day, V P’s clients were wont to sit. There the musicians would sing for 10 minutes and then lady Ramakrishna Ayyar and her mother in law would offer them milk and then the customary bowl of rice would be tipped into the yellow bag that the lead singer, Mahadeva Bhagavatar would be carrying. Sir V P himself would sometimes attend the music session and lend it the tone that he did to any event, be it an inauguration of a sabha or the funeral of a colleague at the High Court.
 All that was till last year. Till last year that is, when music concerts had been a place where one could go and enjoy a few songs of Tyagaraja, Dikshitar, Syama Sastry etc all and come away. And then these justicites and a few misguided so called Nationalists (if they could be misguided any further) had launched the Tamizh Isai movement.
This Mahadeva Bhagavatar had ever since then been singing only Tamizh songs and Sir V P had taken it as a personal affront. He had ordered the watchman that this year the bhajanai group need not be let in. But he had not accounted for his mother.
The redoubtable lady had declared that if the bhajanai was not coming in she would go out and meet them. His wife was also taking her mother in law’s side. Talk about turning approver! He had managed to instruct the cook to avoid serving of milk all the same. But the rice could not be avoided.
The singing had stopped. His mother painfully lowered herself as she tried to fall at the feet of the bhajanai group. Mahadeva Bhagavatar stopped her halfway and pressed her hands to his eyes. Lady Ramakrishna Ayyar did the namaskaram, the rice changed hands and then Bhagavatar looked up. Sir V P tried to edge behind the curtain. But it was too late.
“Tell Ayyarval that we have already had milk at Sir Vepa Ramesam’s house,” said Mahadeva Bhagavatar, to lady Ramakrishna Ayyar in an unnecessarily loud voice. “This year we have somehow been missing his presence during the bhajanai whenever we come to your house. Next year we may be luckier.”
Some tittered. Sir V P could hear his mother laugh. He gritted his teeth even as the bhajanai moved on, this time singing “varaugalampo
ayya.”
His bed coffee was late. Ganapathi the cook had never delayed it before.
He stepped to the landing and bellowed “Ganapati! Where is the coffee?”
“There is no milk in the house,” came his wife’s reply even as she helped his mother up the front door steps.
“Why?”
“..”
“Why?” he thundered, just as he would do while interrogating an unfortunate witness in the stand.
“This is not a court, that you should shout so much,” came his mother’s sharp reply. “I sent away all the milk to Parthasarathy temple as I had a dream last night that he was crying without it.”
Sir V P knew when he was outwitted. His opponents had often referred to him often as a sly fox. But his mother was always a step ahead. He decided to get ready for the day. He was looking forward to it coffee or no coffee. For that evening Semmangudi R Srinivasa Iyer was scheduled to sing at the RR sabha under the auspices of the Music Academy.
Later that morning, having had his bath, completed his sandhyavandanam and performed the morning pooja, he came to the central courtyard of the house. Leaves had been spread all around. For breakfast at Srirangavilas was an elaborate affair. Not less that 50 people sat down to it.
There would be Sir V P, his juniors, clerks and at times even a client or two. Numerous nephews and nieces would also join in. For the V P couple being childless kept open house as far as relatives were concerned and many of them were studying at the University and staying at Sriranga Vilas.
Sir V P sat down at his customary place with his back to a pillar. That was the signal for everyone to sit down. Ganapathy and his assistant began serving the dishes, even as Sir V P’s mother kept up a steady stream of instructions from the pooja room where she was seated, thereby commanding a full view of the goings on in the dining area.
Behind Sir V P stood his secretary, for this was the time when the day’s engagements would be read out to the great man. They had steadily progressed on the day’s programmes till 4.00p.m.
“At 4.00p.m sir, you are to await a phone call from his highness The Nawab of Bhopal on the Chamber of Princes stand as regards federation.”
Sir V P held up his hand.
“Tell sir Hamidullah when he calls that I will not be available today for consultations. I am occupied elsewhere.”
The entire assembly fell silent and looked at him in wonder. It was an open secret that sir V P had lobbied intensively and long for the plum assignment of legal advisor to the chamber and here he was avoiding a discussion with the Chancellor of the Chamber.
Sir V P looked around and smiled.
“Semmangudi sings this evening at the RR Sabha for the Music Academy,” he said. “I intend to meet him and ask him a few questions.”
To Be Continued....
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