Years after the death of MD Ramanathan, fondly
known as MDR, there is still no musician able to live up to the grandeur
and grace that characterized the life and music of this eminent Carnatic
vocalist. Even the bass voice and distinctive musical style, specializing
in the slow tempo, have not been bestowed on anyone else. MDR's rendering
of the sahitya (lyrics) of a kriti was always with a view towards preserving
the meaning.
He would never take a pause or go into an elaborate
sangati (musical variation) at an inappropriate syllable. This habit
is so common that it goes unnoticed among many Carnatic vocalists. Since
the compositions of the great vaggeyakaras are in Telugu, Sanskrit,
Kannada, Tamil and Malayalam, only a very careful singer or one versed
in all these languages, can avoid unintentionally distorting the meaning.
Sometimes a single breath or an elongation of the syllable 'a' taken
at the wrong time can bring about ludicrous changes in the spiritual
meaning of the text.
However, a strong criticism made of his treatment
of the lyrics was that he would add words, extempore. For example, in
a Tyagaraja kriti if the word to be sung was Rama, he would prefix Sri
or Ananda to the name. This was felt to be taking liberties with the
composers, whose literary gifts were undoubtedly above editing. The
quality of voice is of course Nature's gift, but some musicologists
consider it a failing that MDR who taught for decades could not produce
a single disciple in the likeness of himself. But those who have had
the opportunity of seeing him and hearing his recitals would agree that
MDR's music was not a baani or mould, but rather a totally distinctive
personal expression, and it would have been impossible for such a learned
musician to encourage clones devoid of the essential spirit. MDR's emphasis
on the slow kaala pramaanam (tempo) gave his renditions profundity.
Raga bhava, laya, the meaning of the song, all fused into one seamless,
uplifting experience. Mathematics was not the challenge here. There
was no scope for wizardry either in melody or percussion accompaniment.
The challenge lay in maintaining the tempo and evoking the quiet rhythms
of inner thought, rediscovering the essence of each raga, and its relationship
with a kriti. Listening to his concerts brought on a feeling of peace.
If one understood the sahitya of the compositions, the Puranas from
which they were drawn stood vividly before the eyes, and the effect
was akin to having participated in a religious ceremony.
All these qualities MDR was able to bring out in
his music seemingly without any conscious effort. His was music for
the soul. Technically, MDR inherited the musical parampara of the saint
composer Tyagaraja. MDR's guru Tiger Varadachariar was a disciple of
Pattanam Subrahmanya Iyer, who was a direct disciple of Tyagaraja. MDR's
devotion to his guru was a celebrated example of the best in Indian
tradition. As a young physics graduate in 1944, MD Ramanathan came to
Madras from Kerala and joined Rukmini Devi's Kalakshetra, where the
legendary Tiger Varadachariar was part of the galaxy of eminent artists
she had invited to her institution. Both Rukmini Devi and his guru loved
him like a son and recognized his immense artistic capabilities. With
their blessings, MDR's arangetram (debut) was organized in 1949. Venkatarama
Shastri presided over the occasion. MDR spent the rest of his life at
Kalakshetra, helping it to grow over the years and adding stature to
its reputation.
In his later years he was the Principal, and the
post acquired dignity thanks to his personal qualities and his inner
light. The fact that he was learned took nothing away from MDR's capacity
to make people laugh. His nature was welcoming and never intimidating.
As a teacher he had certain strict policies, such as never allowing
his students to take written notes in class. This was of course in the
ancient tradition of the classical arts, which must be absorbed into
the disciple's experience and cannot be bound in a notebook. But if
this seemed difficult, his entertaining way of teaching ensured that
the student had plenty of tricks to remember the lesson by. Sometimes
he would sing the musical phrases in such a way as to give them a meaning
in Tamil. 'Ni dha pa ma' became 'nee thappammaa' ('You are wrong my
dear'), and 'ga ma, ga pa, ga ni' with an innocuous nasal prefix (unga
amma, unga appa, unga anni) turned out to be a list of relatives. Rather
than giving his students a charted course to follow, he taught them
to observe and perform sadhana and equipped them with the means to find
their own path. Surely this is the greatest gift a guru can bestow.
On the flip side, however, MDR's refraining from
giving his students a definite course, and the fact that he never presented
anyone publicly as his disciple, led to a sort of vagueness after his
death, which could be taken advantage of. Today many musicians claim
to be his disciples and it would be extremely difficult to challenge
them. MDR did receive national recognition such as the Sangeet Natak
Akademi Award, the Padmashri and the Kerala Sangeetha Nataka Academy
Award, but being essentially innocent of the cut throat ways of competitive
artists, and content to be a devout gentleman, he did not become a jet
setting globe trotter whom it should have been India's pride to present
before the world. The Music Academy hid inside its regional strait jacket
when the suggestion to honour MDR with the Sangeeta Kalanidhi award
was rejected on the grounds that it should not be given to a musician
from Kerala that year. (This about a man who made Chennai his home and
graced its music scene for forty years.) The loss of course was entirely
the Academy's, but the distorted logic rankles. Chennai is considered
the Mecca of Carnatic musicians, but if its apex institutions are free
to adopt such blatantly biased attitudes, sad is the cause of our music
with its spiritual heritage. MDR died the following year and the Music
Academy lost its chance to honour the most luminous star in its firmament.
Today real rasikas of Carnatic music evoke his grandeur through the
few available commercial recordings and AIR archives, nostalgically
reliving some inspired moments of an inspired soul.