Celebrated as the most authoritative reference on South Indian classical music, the Companion provides an overview of the historical and cultural contexts of the music, its forms, instrument, composers, leading practitioners, and schools.
Fully cross-referenced, the Companion describes and assesses the musical conventions, instrumental music, intonation, embellishment, and tala and rhythm among a host of other topics, and includes detailed biographical notes on composers and musicians. The highly accessible and insightful Preface provides a broad outline of the subject and sensitizes readers to the intricacies of Carnatic music.
The rich artwork-comprising more than 100 photographs, colour plates and drawings by S. Rajam, illustrations by V.C. Arun, and staves-add to the appeal of the volume. In addition to staff notation for all the 72 scales (melakarta ragas), this volume carries a special guide to pronunciation and transliteration. Additionally, the Companion comes equipped with a comprehensive bibliography an further reading section, detailed indices of ragas and scales’ and ‘names’, and a glossary-cum-index.
An indispensable and enriching reference for the connoisseur, practicing musician and dancer, interested amateur, impresario, teacher, and student, this completely revised, updated, and enlarged edition will also inform and engage anybody keen on learning more about Indian culture.
Ludwig Pesch is regarded as an authority on South Indian classical music. Trained at Kalakshetra College of Fine Arts, Chennai, he has performed both with his guru, the late H. Ramachandra Shastry, and solo. He is the author of Ragadhana: An Alpha-Numerical Directory of Ragas (1992) and Eloquent Percussion: A Guide to South Indian Rhythm (with T.R. Sundaresan, 1996).
Sangita Kalasikhamani S. Rajam renowned vocalist and musicologist, is credited with giving Carnatic music its distinct visual identity.
V.C. Arun studied classical Carnatic music at Kalakshetra College of Fine Arts, Chennai, and is the illustrator of Eloquent Percussion: A Guide to South Indian Rhythm (1996).
T.R. Sundaresan, the resource person for all sections pertaining to South Indian rhythm and percussion, is a Carnatic drummer (mridanga vidvan) and teacher of international repute.
Preface
If there is any music capable of reaching people beyond its own cultural boundaries and even beyond music, thereby enriching every sphere of life, it must be Carnatic music. It is with this idea that The Illustrated Companion to South Indian Classical Music was first published a decade ago. This approach was cherished by lay and expert readers alike. C.V. Narasimhan (1905-2003) described the companion as ‘something to sing about’ and that it ‘should figure in the library of every rasika’ (The Hindu, 20 February 1999). For the former Under Secretary-General of the United Nations, his family and circle of friends, having a good time meant to take vocal classes from Carnatic singers and to listen to their concerts. The same can be said about other personalities with diverse backgrounds for whom the pursuit of Indian classical music is more than a mere pastime. It is gratifying to know that as a result of their efforts, South India has assumed its rightful place on the world map of music. For this reason, I have retained the intercultural angle while updating several chapters in accordance with recent developments. The enlarged Bibliography reflects the renewed interest in all aspects of Carnatic music. At the same time, the discography has become redundant in view of the rapid growth of the Indian music industry: all the relevant information is now available on the internet and in major libraries.
During my preparations for the revised edition of this book, a senior musicologist raised an interesting point: is the cover image that adorned the first edition-a dancing Krishna playing the pungi ‘snake-pipe’, depicted in a glass painting-an appropriate choice for a book dealing with ‘classical’ music? After all, the pungi plays no role in Carnatic music or any other type of Indian classical music. And indeed, the word ‘classical’ in the title of a companion to South Indian music is justified by the definition found in The Oxford Companion to Music:
Although the above definition was written with Western music in mind, a similar field of meanings emerged from Indian musicians and listeners whom I asked about their understanding of the Sanskrit and Tamil words for Carnatic music, Karnataka sangita and (Karnataka) sangidam respectively. This would make the depiction of a playful scene on the cover debatable but for the fact that it never failed to evoke a smile. At the same time, this image exuded the very spirit in which the music and dance repertories of South India evolved in tandem. To me, it expressed the openmindedness, warmth, and sense of humour I have found among Indian musicians and scholars. Their ranks include the late L.S. Rajagopalan who had raised the question about this image in the first place. Looking at it, I was reminded of their openmindedness, the diversity of India’s arts, and the subtle undercurrents of all civilization discussed by E.T. Hall in Beyond Culture. His ideas have never lost their relevance although his book does not deal with Indian culture in particular. The proverbial 64 arts mentioned in Tamil and Sanskrit literature, leave no room for doubt concerning ‘man’s relationship to all the art forms’. This relationship, whenever it is most intensely felt by an individual and also finds congenial conditions to manifest itself in the public sphere, rarely favours the pursuit of music in isolation. It is for this reason that music has formed an integral part of ‘total theatre’, the ‘complete and compelling live experience’ as modern theatre makers call it, for the greater part of known history. This concept is, of course, firmly established in India’s performing arts traditions, beginning with the dance drama described in Bharata Muni’s Natya sastra. Apart from the inner circle that attends regular stage performances, there is the common experience of music, not seldom of a high caliber, amidst the visual and other delights accompanying the festivals of India today just as in the remote past.
The boundaries between devotional art, ‘high art’ or ‘classical music’, and popular entertainment can hardly be drawn in a rigid manner. In Carnatic music, this fact has been underlined by Balamurali Krishna, the versatile singer and instrumentalist who is also known as a prolific composer in his own right. Although many of his songs are based on classical models, he refers to the Sangita Ratnakara and declares that ‘there is nothing called “Karnatic” music. It is south Indian music… Karnaha Atati, Iti Karnaataha goes the saying, which means, any music that pleases the ear is Karnatic music. So, every music sung with passion and devotion is mellifluous, and so is Karnatic!’ (The Hindu, 13 October 2006).
If similar considerations apply to the living music of most other cultures, it is rarely as evident as in Carnatic music. My partiality to the cheerful picture seen on the front cover of the first edition is therefore justified by the freedom all Carnatic musicians enjoy within the framework of their respective traditions. What I see in this picture and also hear in any successful Carnatic concert or recording has been expressed by the noted art historian and dancer Stella Kramrisch (1896-1993), an associate of Rabindranath Tagore at Santiniketan, in a single sentence worth pondering.
Indian music has never been much removed from the other arts and the emotions that bind them together. This unity, underpinned by the theoretical frameworks concerning sound, colour, form, proportion, and movement, could well explain why India’s performing arts have come to play a major role around the world today: it demonstrates the scope for integrating traditional motifs, themes, and techniques within the sophisticated experimentation that appeals to creative artists generation after generation. If their outlook characterizes the history of Indian performing arts over a long period of time, the same can be said about the beginnings of modernism in the West when artists first challenged the attitudes prevailing in the ‘academic’ art world in the early 20th cent. Looking beyond their own cultural roots, members of the Blue Rider group of artists sought to reach out to other manifestations of art and music. In India, it was Rabindranath Tagore who, in the same period of modern history, pointed to the importance of an intercultural dialogue on equal terms in the domains of the arts, science, social reform, and education. He succeeded in putting his ideals into practice against all odds at a time when the rest of the world descended into chaos. Several forward looking movements in East and West have since benefited from Tagore’s achievements and those of several other pioneers whose institutions are guided by similar ideals.
Carnatic music has more to offer than lilting tunes combined with exciting rhythms, the feats for which its exponents were first noted internationally as they became ‘frequent flyers’ in the last quarter of the 20th cent. Wherever they choose to perform and teach, Indian musicians and dancer have been welcomed and increasingly receive the recognition they deserve. They have seized every opportunity to collaborate with openminded colleagues on equal terms. If mutual understanding is to be fostered and sustained in the long run, a modicum of knowledge about the ‘other’ culture is needed on both sides of the cultural divide. Such a dialogue requires forward looking participants rather than nostalgia or exotic stereotypes. The essays by Nobel Laureate Amartya Sen are worth discussing whenever mutual appreciation of cultural achievements is placed on the agenda of a festival, school project, or conference:
Musically minded scientists, educators, and cultural ambassadors from India have seen to it that Carnatic music has indeed become part of a global migration of people and ideas. This development facilitates both the pursuit of Carnatic music on traditional lines and a quest for musical knowledge that can be described as ‘universal’. In other words, it is increasingly regarded as being suitable for the needs of our ‘digital age’. At this stage the question arises whether conforming with the demands made by the world music industry-the catering to real and imagined audience expectations might turn out to be self-defeating.
Against this background, the characteristics that distinguish each musical tradition (sampradaya, gharana, or bani) have become premium assets again. This development is significant considering the demands made by music of a high caliber, be it on its practitioners, their pupils or listeners. The distractions associated with urban lifestyles do not, after all, favour untiring practice at any day or night time (sadhana or Hindustani riaz) as a traditional preceptor (guru) would demand; and, depending on a master musician’s temperament and outlook, obedience if not outright servitude while living within one’s teacher’s household over a period of many years (gurukulavasa). The latter has, for obvious reasons, become a rare exception in the present generation of aspiring musicians. Discerning appreciation of classical music, on the other hand, requires a commensurate commitment to concentrated listening over a long period of time. Yet a rapidly growing community of performers and listeners is prepared to make every effort to live up to these expectations again. Theirs is a lifetime quest for good music.
Innovation is now cherished rather than seen as a threat to the continuity and integrity of classical Indian music. This also means that there are opportunities for musicians and tutors to play a greater role in society. Good music fosters a sense of empathy, self-confidence, and dignity in those who can afford taking lessons from a competent teacher. Carnatic music readily lends itself to active participation y individuals as well as groups of people from any age group. The distinction between ‘professional’ and ‘amateur’ musicians has rarely been rigid. The popularity of congregational singing (bhajana) is a case in point. It is for these reasons that Carnatic musicians enjoy a place of honour wherever they live, travel, or migrate. This is important considering that many among them spend a greater part of their adult lives on the move before settling down to teach their younger relatives and other pupils and prepare some of them to become their worthy successors. I have often been amazed and inspired by the youthful energy of senior Carnatic teachers, and also moved by their eagerness to go on learning and creating themselves, undeterred by advancing age.
Heinrich Zimmer (1890-1943) ends his Myths and Symbols in Indian Art and Civilization with a Jewish parable and confides to his readers that it had led him to an unexpected revelation as regards his own work and personal life:
The beauty of this approach is expressed in the lyrics of a krti by Muttusvami Diksitar (Mayetvam yahi) that was taught to me by my Carnatic flute teacher, H. Ramachandra Sastri:
So many years later, I continue to marvel at the fact that Carnatic music beckons us to enquire into the very nature of music; and I derive inspiration from the ways it can be transmitted and experienced by different individuals.
If there is anything like an essential quality shared by all the arts, anywhere in the world and since the very beginnings of civilized life, it must be that-a real sense of wonder such as conveyed through the above lyrics by Muttusvami Diksitar and, of course, the majestic music to which they belong. The same applies to the thoughts and feelings conveyed in another song:
This composition, so delightfully sung by Aruna Sairam and appreciated by countless listeners in and outside India, has a message for our times. A hymn in praise of the greater reality we are part of, it makes us aware of the beauty of the ‘one world’ we all inhabit and should care more about. Like other song lyrics bequeathed by Tyagaraja, Paramatmudu points to the lofty heights where Carnatic music transcends the limits imposed by outdated modes of thinking and superstitions. The vast and varied repertory of South India offers plenty of food for thought irrespective of our religious background or humanistic outlook. Several wonderful teachers and generous guides have taught me that good music is there to be shared as widely as possible, and unconditionally.
The opening statement by E.T. Hall is as bold as it is verifiable. It holds true in the brightest moments of civilization and illuminates the darkest of times. Our relationship to the arts should therefore not be limited by the culture in which we happen to have been brought up. Otherwise this book would neither have been written nor published. I hope that the second edition of The Oxford Illustrated Companion to South Indian Classical Music conveys this spirit in a manner that readers find thought provoking and enjoyable.
Back of the Book
‘Something to sing about: a most informative, thorough, and scientifically accurate companion to our classical music…should figure in the library of every rasika.’
-The Hindu
-Music and Letters: A Quarterly Publication
-Frontline
-Britannica.com
-Sruti
-The Music Magazine
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