Legacy It was her goal — sangitam and not kutcheri — that kept Suguna Varadachari going through the lean years. Gowri Ramnarayan
Photo: R.Shivaji Rao
RISING AGAINST ODDS: Suguna Varadachari.
Despite her Music Academy debut in 1971 and a diploma with honours at the Music Academy’s Teachers’ College, her next chance at the venue came in 1994, where she won awards for best concert, best niraval, best alapana and vivadi raga exposition.
Though not so consistently ignored by other sabhas, Suguna Varadachari admits her drawbacks _ reticence, ignorance about procedures, and lack of family support. Was she frustrated? “Y-e-s, but regular AIR recitals kept me going.”
Thirst kindled
Suguna’s first music lessons were part of the routine training for girls of her generation. But guru P.K.Rajagopala Iyer, a disciple of Tiger Varadachariar, kindled a thirst. His handwriting filled a still treasured notebook with sarali-jantai varisai, alankarams in janaka-janya ragas, and voice training exercises in the three octaves for akara sadhakam.
Losing her father was an irrecoverable blow to the only child. Grandparents helped out. The mother rented out a part of the house, and started tailoring classes. She had no taste for classical music, but did not hinder Suguna’s choice of music as a special subject at Lady Sivaswami School, and more systematic training at the Rasika Ranjani Sabha’s school with eminent teachers Srinivasa Iyengar, Rajam Iyer, Kumbakonam Sankaran, A.S.Panchapakesa Iyer and Kalpakam Swaminathan. “I fell in love with the grand tradition. Nothing light or frilly attracted me.”
Her lack of means distressed her only when she joined the Central College of Carnatic Music. “I could not take tuitions as the others did.” The campus trees heard her tireless practice. “Had to find my way out of the kanakku-vyavaharam maze on my own.” Imagine her joy when she found herself among the few students invariably asked to do the swara rounds in class!
The faculty had a galaxy of musicians to instruct and inspire — Kalyanakrishna Bhagavatar, Budalur Krishnamurti Sastrigal, T. Brinda, Musiri Subramania Iyer, as well as the younger trio — T.M.Thiagarajan, T.R.Subramaniam and K.V.Narayanaswami. It was at age 22 that Suguna, until then trained only at institutions, had her dream, of individual coaching, fulfilled. Winning a two-and-a-half year scholarship to study with Musiri meant joining the last batch of his sishyas such as Suguna Purushotthaman, Padma Narayanaswami, Prema Sukumar and Mani Krishnaswami. “We’d go to his house at 2 p.m. everyday, for classes of over 3-4 hours. Sometimes M.S.Subbulakshmi’s daughter Radha would join us. We’d begin with a small song and move to something expansive like ‘O Rangasayi’ (Khambodi), ‘Anjaneya’ (Saveri) or ‘Ramarama Gunaseema’ (Simhendramadhyamam). Then came the new lesson. Nothing piecemeal, the longest song was taught at a single sitting. Initially, it was an uphill struggle for me. But that kind of training left nothing flimsy or doubtful. Years later, Mani, Suguna and I could sing together without any difficulty or change in the pathantara.”
Suguna had known such scrupulousness in Brindamma’s class too.
Unique niraval
Musiri’s emotion-soaked style went straight to her heart. “If he sang a song like ‘Sitapate,’ even those who didn’t know the language could grasp the mood and the meaning. His unique niraval taught us the essence and the nuances of every raga for alapana.”
Musiri did not merely introduce the swara rounds, but sang before every student’s turn. “Each time we had to stay within 3 or 4 swaras. If we went ahead, he would direct a glance so sharp that we felt disgraced. He widened his eye at small mistakes, cleared his throat for bigger ones! He said nothing, but made us realise just where we went wrong. This awareness made us correct ourselves at once.”
With gurus like Mudicondan Venkatrama Iyer, the Music Academy’s Teachers Training College proved fertile ground. Suguna recalls Jayammal pounding betelnut as she taught the most astonishing gamakas. “I remember every glance, gesture and expression, which accompanied those sangatis. How effortless was the Purvikalyani swirl in ‘Ni Matale!’ You forgot her age.”
The December season spelt all day listening. It also meant intense preparations for the diverse music competitions at various sabhas. “In those days the hall was packed for competitions. Once, after a tie, I had to sing again to win the first prize, a tambura.” A boon, as she could not afford to buy one. Sadly, her family was not interested in the art, to celebrate such achievements.
Marriage brought no better support. Her shipping company executive husband and his family were no more aficionados of Carnatic music than members of her natal family. “They didn’t object to my singing in free time, only to prioritising music. Concert tours couldn’t be thought of. Now they’re interested because my son Bharatkumar has begun to sing,” she says matter-of-factly. “However, I vowed never to give up. Once lost, I knew I could never recover my music, a God-given gift.”
Finally, after moving to her own house, Suguna resumed lessons in 1982, this time with Calcutta Krishnamurti. “A fine teacher and a fine human being.” Her own teaching had begun early, kept her fine-tuned, and continued at the University of Madras (1984-2004). “Some of my students sing very well, though all seem to have my luck with performance.”
There are cherished memories too. Didn’t Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer once tell her that he attended a function just to hear her sing? Didn’t Mudicondan laugh affectionately at her and Suguna Purushotthaman saying, “Do girls named Suguna always sing well?”
Just what kept her going through the lean years? “In my time, with the kind of teachers I had, the goal was sangitam, not kutcheri. All my life, I have had the good fortune of following that track.”
(A fortnightly spotlight on music gurus, musicologists and representatives of different schools, who have enriched Carnatic music.)
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