G.N. BALASUBRAMANIAM (1910-1965)
A genius and a pathbreaker - V. RAMNARAYAN
He was among the most imitated vocalists in Carnatic music. Not only did
some of his students start out, understandably, as carbon copies, many young
musicians to this day try to mimic his inimitable style. India’s midnight’s
children and younger citizens are unfortunately too young to have heard
him live extensively, but some retain a few vivid images from childhood,
and remember being exhilarated by his wonderful voice. Much of what we present
here of Gudalur Narayanaswami Balasubramaniam, we owe Sruti’s articles and
the GNB workshop, a brilliantly original effort in late 1992. Lalitha Ram,
a die-hard fan and biographer of GNB, and a commemorative volume being brought
out by the GNB family (with important contributions from several musicians,
critics and rasika-s) have been other valuable sources.
Issue 7 of Sruti (1 May 1984) profiled GNB, carrying the following articles:
GNB and his Great New Bani by P.N. Venkatraman; GNB: A Garland of Anecdotes
by K.S. Muthuraman; and GNB: His Mind and Art by T.S. Vedagiri.
Born to G.V. Narayanaswami Iyer and Visalakshi on 6 January 1910, Balasubramaniam,
called Mani at home, studied at the Hindu High School, Triplicane, Madras,
Madras Christian College (where he completed his B.A. Honours in English),
and briefly at Annamalai University. (A detailed biography is being serialised
in Sruti, this issue carrying the fourth instalment of the story). GNB was
eager to pursue a career in music, while his schoolmaster and music enthusiast
father wanted him to take up a proper job. Mani had a natural flair for
music and did not undergo rigorous gurukulavasam, though he did have lessons
from Madurai Subramania Iyer and Karur Chinnaswami Iyer. Both his parents
were musically talented and had many opportunities of listening to giants
like Fiddle Tirukkodikaval Krishna Iyer, Flute Sarabha Sastri, Nagaswaram
Tirumarugal Natesa Pillai and Harikatha expert Tiruppayanam Panchapakesa
Sastrigal. When GVN, as Narayanaswami Iyer was often called, became a maths
teacher at the Hindu High School, and became involved in the Sri Parthasarathi
Swami Sabha, he came into close contact with great musicians. GNB recalled
in a 1967 article, “Violinist Karur Chinnaswami Iyer lived next door to
us in Triplicane. I lived in an atmosphere drenched in music and this helped
me to nurture, develop and sustain my ardour for music.” His kelvi gnanam
was sharp and inspired, enabling him to learn the more advanced aspects
of music without the help of a guru. In his own words, “Without so much
as any basic training, I acquired swara gnana which I humbly feel was due
to the benediction of elders and savants. Whenever I listened to good music,
I had an inner feeling that I could visualise it in the imagery of swara-s.
What my ears would be hearing would be picturised in my mind’s eye in swara
forms.”
Dharini telusukonti Tripurasundari. Mani’s voice
was racing at lightning speed, filling the house.
"Mani! Haven’t I told you not to sing at breakneck speed?" Narayanaswami
Iyer launched his invariable lament. "Every new sangati for 'sundari'
should create a mind picture of the goddess bedecked in a different
new way and taken in procession. Your singing speed is akin to redecorating
Ambal before we have had the time to appreciate the beauty of her ornamentation
the first time around.”
"Didn't the nagaswaram vidwan play at the same speed last night?"
"The instrument has its own tempo. It can't suit the voice. Never mind.
Come straight from school to the sabha to attend Iyengar’s concert."
This conversation took place in 1926. Ariyakudi had come to Triplicane
to sing at a wedding at the residence of Ranganatham Chettiar, the proprietor
of Sri Venkateswara Printing Press. Narayanaswami Iyer had used the
opportunity to arrange a concert at his sabha.
Recalling the concert years later, GNB said, "I had seen Iyengarval
several times in the past, but this was his first concert I was listening
to. I heard him many times later, but that first concert left a lasting,
indelible impression on me." This was reported in the Tamil magazine
Amuda Surabhi in 1965.
The Season - 75 years ago
The December Music Season of 1934
- SRIRAM. V
The Season of 1934 was relatively uneventful, barring a couple of minor
episodes. The two principal players were the Music Academy and the Indian
Fine Arts Society (IFAS) (see box titled The Sabhas in 1934) and the
music festival of the sabha-s began within a day of each other. Both
followed the same pattern, with a ceremonial inauguration by a prominent
personality and a person deeply involved with music presiding over the
annual conference. There were concerts every afternoon and evening.
The Academy released a series of advertisements in the press from as
early as October 1934, giving details of its programmes. A small but
significant change had taken place in the way the Academy saw its annual
festival. Till 1933, the morning sessions or deliberations were of prime
importance and the evening concerts were merely to showcase how music
could be presented, keeping in mind the various ‘improvements’ that
the Academy desired (read – no upapakkavadyam-s, no nagaswaram, no long
drawn pallavi and concert duration not to exceed two-and-a-half hours).
These were therefore called ‘model concerts’. But the IFAS had no such
pretensions and organised concerts in the time-tested fashion, often
with senior and popular artists and larger audience attendance. The
Academy then decided to modify its approach and the advertisement released
on 20th December in The Hindu said, “A Grand Carnival of Music” in much
larger type than “Music Conference 1934”. Instrumental music was given
importance and there were concerts featuring the flute, the violin,
the veena, the gotuvadyam, the gettuvadyam, the jalatarangam, the sitar
and the nagaswaram. The nagaswaram in particular had been a strict no-no
on the Academy stage and was now making a triumphant comeback (see The
Return of the Nagaswaram).
A series of interviews with musicians
and dancers
"I am a rasika first, then a musician"
is passion for music is over-whelming; his simplicity, heartwarming.
His face lights up as he speaks about his guru-s and the people who
have inspired him. An endearing smile spreads across his cheerful countenance
as he talks about what makes him one of the most sought-after khanjira
players today. Spotting his talent years ago, The Sruti Foundation presented
the second Vellore Gopalachariar Prize instituted by vidwan Vellore
Ramabhadran to this talented percussionist in 2001. In September this
year, he was awarded the Ustad Bismillah Khan Yuva Puraskar by the Sangeet
Natak Akademi. B.S. PURUSHOTHAM, popular khanjira artist, relives memories
of his career and shares his views on current issues, in a tête-à-tête
with NIVEDITA NARAYANAN.
You have just won a prestigious award. How does it feel?
Great! This award is special for two reasons. First, I was chosen in
the ‘classical instruments’ category. So the competition was not restricted
to percussionists. Second, the awardees are chosen by previous years’
awardees in the same category. To be recognised by fellow musicians
is a great feeling.
Among the awardees were artists from diverse fields and from different,
even remote, parts of the country. The award ceremony, the rehearsal,
the media attention and the group photographs all gave me goose bumps.
Every student, every listener of Hindustani classical
music is repeatedly told that every note, every phrase we hear on
stage during performances is extempore. Nothing is written down,
therefore nothing is produced from memory. Nothing is "memorised".
We hear this thought, assuming several different forms, across many
venues and forums. Maestros who have spent their lives in hard,
unremitting riyaz, explain to audiences, “Everything is improvised.
As you can see, there is no book, there are no notes of any kind
before me. Hindustani musicians can go on forever without feeling
the need to consult a book.”
At the other end of the spectrum, there are beginners and students
who echo the same sentiment. Some find this “extemporaneity” difficult
to incorporate into their performances, and soon slip away to different
genres, where it is permissible to have a book as an aid to memory.
Over the years, this concept has come to be viewed as a given, too
obvious to be argued about. But is it really true? To frame the
question differently: How extempore is a classical recital, whether
vocal or instrumental?
SUNDARI SANTHANAM
She fought cancer to pursue her passion - DR. SHOBHA SHASHIKUMAR
Sundari Santhanam passed away on 24th August 2009 in Bangalore at the
age of 60 after battling cancer for many years, but she continues to
live through her contributions to dance. Sundari was an ‘iron lady’
who designed and determined her own lifestyle. She embellished her life
with simple and meaningful values. She remained an undiscovered jewel
for a major part of her life. She was moulded in the true gurukula sampradaya
by her legendary guru Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam. Sundari and her sister
Uma were the two major disciples on whom Padma worked in order to arrive
at the karana-s – a very time consuming, physically taxing and meticulous
process. Padma publicly praised Sundari’s “patience, perseverance and
dedication during the reconstruction of the marga karana-s of the Natya
Sastra”, saying she had taken to task every limb of Sundari. Not every
student could be as loyal and dedicated as Sundari who, till her last
breath, attributed her work in the field of dance to the blessings of
her guru.
She was very affectionate towards her students, but a tough taskmaster
as a teacher. She was a perfectionist who was not easily pleased. However,
she had all the patience in the world to correct her students till they
got it right. As she was strict and uncompromising, she did not attract
a large number of students. Initially she even faced hostility and contempt.
In later years, many celebrity dancers sought her guidance, but she
was not overwhelmed by their status. If today the technique of karana
has found application in Karnataka, the credit goes to Sundari Santhanam,
as everyone interested in the karana-s cannot go to Chennai to learn
from the pioneer Padma Subrahmanyam.
BHASKAR CHANDAVARKAR
Creative musician with concern for regional traditions - MANNA SRINIVASAN
In the midst of the obituary tributes to the ‘celebrity’ musicians who
passed away in quick succession, the demise in July, of a remarkably
versatile musician and expert resource person, Bhaskar Chandavarkar,
has gone practically unnoticed. He was immobilized for more than a year.
Born in 1936 in Pune, Chandavarkar learnt sitar from Pandit Ravi Shankar
and his disciple, Umashankar Misra. He also equipped himself in the
Hindustani vocal discipline and studied Western music.
Chandavarkar served the Film and Television Institute of India, Pune,
from 1965 to 1980, as a resident composer and teacher of applied music.
He composed music for a number of plays such as Vamsa Vriksha,
Ghashiram Kotwal, and Sakuntala, and scores of films in several Indian
languages, including Mrinal Sen’s Khandahar, Aparna Sen’s Paroma, and
Vijaya Mehta’s Rao Saheb, creating a special niche for himself in the
genre.
L. KRISHNAN
Composer par excellence - A SRUTI
CORRESPONDENT
Rarely do we come across people combining genius with humility. Music
composer L. Krishnan was such a person. Born on 18th February 1933
at Tiruchi, he spent his early years in Delhi, as his father Rao Saheb
R.K. Lakshmanan was working as an administrative officer in the Central
Public Works Department, in the capital. Evincing keen interest in Carnatic
music, Krishnan learnt vocal music from B.V. Raman, Pudukode Krishnamurthy
and O.V. Subramaniam in Delhi.
He moved to Chennai to enrol in the music college, while also learning
from vidwan G.N. Balasubramaniam. In 1956, he joined film music director
S. Rajeswara Rao as his associate. After working with him for almost
20 years, he joined AIR-Chennai as a composer in 1976. In 1980 he started
composing music for cassettes and later on for CDs. He composed songs
for eminent Carnatic musicians like M. Balamuralikrishna, R. Vedavalli,
Bombay Sisters, Sudha Ragunathan, Bombay Jayashri, S. Sowmya, Nithyashree
Mahadevan, P. Unnikrishnan as well as for film singers like Vani Jairam,
S. Janaki, P. Suseela, and S.P. Balasubramaniam. His oeuvre included
more than 2000 cassettes and CDs. He also composed music for several
dance-dramas. For many CD recordings, he composed and recorded even
12 songs a day, including the complete background score. The end result
would seem as if the songs were composed, orchestrated and recorded in
not less than three months. In spite of his fast working style, he never
compromised on quality.
sruti.com
He was among the most imitated vocalists in Carnatic music. Not only did
some of his students start out, understandably, as carbon copies, many young
musicians to this day try to mimic his inimitable style. India’s midnight’s
children and younger citizens are unfortunately too young to have heard
him live extensively, but some retain a few vivid images from childhood,
and remember being exhilarated by his wonderful voice. Much of what we present
here of Gudalur Narayanaswami Balasubramaniam, we owe Sruti’s articles and
the GNB workshop, a brilliantly original effort in late 1992. Lalitha Ram,
a die-hard fan and biographer of GNB, and a commemorative volume being brought
out by the GNB family (with important contributions from several musicians,
critics and rasika-s) have been other valuable sources. 
from Madurai Subramania Iyer and Karur Chinnaswami Iyer. Both his parents
were musically talented and had many opportunities of listening to giants
like Fiddle Tirukkodikaval Krishna Iyer, Flute Sarabha Sastri, Nagaswaram
Tirumarugal Natesa Pillai and Harikatha expert Tiruppayanam Panchapakesa
Sastrigal. When GVN, as Narayanaswami Iyer was often called, became a maths
teacher at the Hindu High School, and became involved in the Sri Parthasarathi
Swami Sabha, he came into close contact with great musicians. GNB recalled
in a 1967 article, “Violinist Karur Chinnaswami Iyer lived next door to
us in Triplicane. I lived in an atmosphere drenched in music and this helped
me to nurture, develop and sustain my ardour for music.” His kelvi gnanam
was sharp and inspired, enabling him to learn the more advanced aspects
of music without the help of a guru. In his own words, “Without so much
as any basic training, I acquired swara gnana which I humbly feel was due
to the benediction of elders and savants. Whenever I listened to good music,
I had an inner feeling that I could visualise it in the imagery of swara-s.
What my ears would be hearing would be picturised in my mind’s eye in swara
forms.” 
The Season of 1934 was relatively uneventful, barring a couple of minor
episodes. The two principal players were the Music Academy and the Indian
Fine Arts Society (IFAS) (see box titled The Sabhas in 1934) and the
music festival of the sabha-s began within a day of each other. Both
followed the same pattern, with a ceremonial inauguration by a prominent
personality and a person deeply involved with music presiding over the
annual conference. There were concerts every afternoon and evening.
is passion for music is over-whelming; his simplicity, heartwarming.
His face lights up as he speaks about his guru-s and the people who
have inspired him. An endearing smile spreads across his cheerful countenance
as he talks about what makes him one of the most sought-after khanjira
players today. Spotting his talent years ago, The Sruti Foundation presented
the second Vellore Gopalachariar Prize instituted by vidwan Vellore
Ramabhadran to this talented percussionist in 2001. In September this
year, he was awarded the Ustad Bismillah Khan Yuva Puraskar by the Sangeet
Natak Akademi. B.S. PURUSHOTHAM, popular khanjira artist, relives memories
of his career and shares his views on current issues, in a tête-à-tête
with NIVEDITA NARAYANAN. 
Sundari Santhanam passed away on 24th August 2009 in Bangalore at the
age of 60 after battling cancer for many years, but she continues to
live through her contributions to dance. Sundari was an ‘iron lady’
who designed and determined her own lifestyle. She embellished her life
with simple and meaningful values. She remained an undiscovered jewel
for a major part of her life. She was moulded in the true gurukula sampradaya
by her legendary guru Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam. Sundari and her sister
Uma were the two major disciples on whom Padma worked in order to arrive
at the karana-s – a very time consuming, physically taxing and meticulous
process. Padma publicly praised Sundari’s “patience, perseverance and
dedication during the reconstruction of the marga karana-s of the Natya
Sastra”, saying she had taken to task every limb of Sundari. Not every
student could be as loyal and dedicated as Sundari who, till her last
breath, attributed her work in the field of dance to the blessings of
her guru. 
In the midst of the obituary tributes to the ‘celebrity’ musicians who
passed away in quick succession, the demise in July, of a remarkably
versatile musician and expert resource person, Bhaskar Chandavarkar,
has gone practically unnoticed. He was immobilized for more than a year.
Rarely do we come across people combining genius with humility. Music
composer L. Krishnan was such a person. Born on 18th February 1933
at Tiruchi, he spent his early years in Delhi, as his father Rao Saheb
R.K. Lakshmanan was working as an administrative officer in the Central
Public Works Department, in the capital. Evincing keen interest in Carnatic
music, Krishnan learnt vocal music from B.V. Raman, Pudukode Krishnamurthy
and O.V. Subramaniam in Delhi.