Rising like the Thanjavur gopuram
GOWRI RAMNARAYAN
|
Her dream to become a dancer cut short, Nirmala Parthasarathy took up veena that opened the door to a world of magic.
|
Photo: S.R.Raghunathan
EXPERIENCE TO CHERISH: Nirmala Parthasarathy.
Mother and aunt sang as Chittoor Amateurs, while grandmother Kanakavalli played the violin. Taught the rudiments of veena playing by neighbour Sita, the child developed an interest in the ancient instrument. But the stage knew Baby Nirmala as a dancer trained by Vazhuvoor guru Dhanamanikkam Ammal.
All dancing ended abruptly with marriage at the age of 17. Railway Accounts Officer-husband Parthasarathy's frequent transfers turned Bharatanatyam into a fading dream. "It was hard to accept that I couldn't even go to see others dance," says Nirmala Parthasarathy, her eyes still reflecting disappointment.
"You can play the veena for many more years than you can dance," the husband said, and encouraged his wife to resume what she had learnt in childhood from V. Raghavan.
In Bombay, he insisted that she join K.S.Narayanaswami's class at the Shanmukhananda School. Seeing that she was reluctant to travel for two hours for a one-hour lesson, he picked her up after office and drove her to class, eating his packed tiffin as he waited in a nearby park. "I cried when I left Bombay after three years, he was such a marvellous teacher."
KSN was a man of few words. He taught few compositions, unhurriedly, playing every line with the disciples tirelessly, until they got it just right. "Bhesh!" was a rare and only sound of approval. No notation was allowed but the guru did correct songs notated by the students after they learnt the piece.
Music has to rise high like the Thanjavur gopuram, he would say, not sink in compromises. That is what he had learnt from his guru Ponniah Pillai, and veterans such as Sabesa Iyer. He emphasised kalapramana as much as swarasthana accuracy. Tanam could not race ahead, but should maintain the same tempo as the preceding alapana. "Who can play tanam like him?" exclaims Nirmala. "It was like flowers offered in archanai."
Aural treat
Nirmala was lucky to get back into his orbit when she returned to Madras. KSN made long visits to the M.S.Subbulakshmi household. What a treat to hear him play in the music room before a gathering of veterans! Or to hear M.S. playing with KSN! What joy when Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer sang with those two veenas! Nirmala was to have something even more valuable to cherish.
Hearing her play ghanaraga tanam with KSN on the radio, M.S. gave Nirmala her own veena saying, "I will pray to God that you should keep on playing like this." Eventually Nirmala returned that veena to M.S. as it had belonged to the singer's mother Shanmukhavadivu.
Madras also enabled her to learn from M.A.Kalyanakrishna Bhagavatar. "His swara patterns danced like jatis!" she recalls appreciatively. If KSN stressed sphuritam, MAK underlined gamakam. "Both were unbending stalwarts."
Nirmala was spellbound by the Dhanammal school, but did not dare approach any practitioner until a family friend introduced her to T. Mukta. Pleased with Nirmala's ability to play what she taught vocally, Muktamma taught her a generous range of compositions, and made Nirmala her concert accompanist for over eight years. "I came to know what the veena could actually do when I played in this unique style. I can't explain its magic, but magic it is. It refuses to leave your heart."
Nirmala was never to know T.Balaraswati, but did get to play with T.Viswanathan on the flute for Lakshmi Knight's dance.
In the musical feature, `Muvva Gopala,' she played with three generations of the Brinda-Mukta family. One day, when she was late for rehearsal, Brindamma played the veena and admitted how tough it was to manage the high sruti as Nirmala had been doing all along. "High praise considering how formidable she was!" Muktamma spoke unceasingly of her sister's genius, and took care of her tenderly during bouts of illness.
A regular at AIR for 15 years, Nirmala has given solo recitals in many cities and performed with her gurus — often with KSN, and once with MAK. "I play padam and javali in every recital... for myself. I enjoy them so much!"
She never got beyond the noon slot at the Academy, except for morning lec-dems; Sri Krishna Gana Sabha called her in 1974. "There's a curse on the instrument. Very few vainikas achieved fame. Even the masters didn't get recognition. So why complain?" she asks gently. But she is saddened by the fact that no audio CDs are available of those masters. "Ask for KSN or MAK and the man at the record shop will stammer - who're they?"
Regrets? Her 25 years of dedicated teaching have been "a waste really. No student persevered, even the talented ones. They get married or take up a bank job and drop out of class." But there is the joy of being encouraged by son Arvind and daughter Ranjani to continue her own music. "Office and family leave little time for Ranjani to pursue music, but she accompanies me when I visit her and perform in the U.S."
As the talk ends, the alert little grand daughter, patiently waiting to reclaim her grandmother, dances in with a beaming smile. Perhaps one day...
(A fortnightly spotlight on music gurus, musicologists and representatives of different schools, who have enriched Carnatic music.)
Printer friendly
page
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Friday Review
Bangalore
Chennai and Tamil Nadu
Delhi
Hyderabad
Thiruvananthapuram
