BY R. RAMANUJA AYYANGAR

We all know that our music has its origin in the mists of antiquity. Down through the ages, it has grown from strength to strength, thanks to the toils of eminent grammarians from Bharata and Sarangadeva to Venkatamakhi, and composers from Jayadeva to the immortal trinity of the last century. It is also a fact worthy of note that Europe owes the foundations of its music to ancient India. To quote a famous orientalist, "From India and the East, where many ancient historical traces are found, music followed man in his wanderings through Persia and Egypt. Like the light of the day, musical enlightenment moved from east to west, through Hebrews. Greeks and Romans." "A regular system of notation had been worked out in India long before the age of Panini, and the seven notes designated by their initial letters. This notation passed through Persia and Arabia and was introduced into Europe by Guido-de-Arezzo in the 11th century A.D."

The antiquity of the art, however, is not its sole title to our consideration. It is the perfection it attained even in the early centuries of the Christian era that compels our admiration. One may, therefore, dismiss as a mere fib the assertion that our music gained by contact with Muslims. Mahomedans were no lovers of music before they set foot on Indian soil. Their very religion set its face against it. It were nearer the truth to say that progress of the art was arrested by Muslim dominance. From aversion and apathy to patronage was a long, long way. And it is a glorious testimony to the enduring vitality of our ancient culture that music not only survived the onslaught on its existence, but captivated the hearts of men like Malik Kafur who found the art in such a flourishing condition in South India that on his return he took with him a whole army of Carnatic musicians to far-away Delhi. Nevertheless, the impact of an alien and un-friendly culture was so pronounced that North India lost its moorings for good so far as music was concerned, and developed a mongrel type of art which not even a Titan like the late Bhatkande could place on a definite, tangible, scientific basis. And this leads us direct into what to my mind is an urgent problem. It is almost a fashion nowadays to plead for a fusion of North and South Indian music. Fortunately for the art, this harangue comes only from those who, thanks to their status in public life rather than to their acquaintance with music per se, open music conferences or preside over prize distributions. The richness and sonorousness of the North Indian voice, made very familiar to us in recent times through the gramophone and the Radio, have so overpowered us that the less informed and more enthusiastic among us have been carried off their feet. They cannot see that they in the north are assiduously helping themselves, the while we are thoughtlessly overturning the balance in a sort of wild goose chase. In fact, in Europe there has been a swing in favour of South Indian melodies of late. Hindustani ustads of the last generation were so indifferent to our music that they referred to solfaing extempore as playing the harmonium with the mouth. But the tide has long since turned. Frantic efforts are now made to sing kalpana swara, though the success achieved thus for does not appear to be considerable. The South Indian Gotu Vadyam has won an honoured place there, and has been rechristened the Vichitra Veena. The Suddha Maddalam used in our temples sails under the name of Pakwaj. Quite recently the violin, the shanai and the dolak have been forging ahead. Let us hope that before long the north will learn all the varied aspects of our music, take up all our instruments, and give us something more than the half a line of obscure words lengthening out into interminable acrobatics of the voice. Let us hope that it will bestow increasing attention on accompaniments so that the tabla and other instruments may come to enjoy some status and individuality, rather than figure as adjuncts to ensure an even tempo. Let us hope that our Melakartha Scheme with its Raganga and Janya Ragas in all their purity and subtlety will be studied in the north, so that order may evolve out of the chaos that prevails there today. And lastly let us hope that the various types of compositions like the Varnam, the Kriti, the Padam, the Swarajati and the Laya epitomes of Tirupugazh will be diligently studied by musicians in the north. Whereas we may copy the marvelous voice culture of the north, they have everything else to learn from us. Only on these lines can there be fusion between north and south, if there is to be a renascence of Indian Music as a whole.

Obversely it is our duty to set our house in order and keep it in good trim. But what do we see about us? The best in our hallowed tradition is challenged by disruptive forces from within and without. When music enjoyed the patronage of ruling princes and noble families, genius and originality had a congenial soil for growth and unfolding. Not only was the wolf kept off the door, but musical knowledge was freely and efficiently imparted under the Gurukula Sampradaya. In course of time this support vanished, and the musician who had hitherto cultivated art for art’s own sake had to find a market for his wares if he was not to starve. Even a healthy social reform in the conduct of weddings indirectly hit the musician. Temples and kindred institutions, that provided a scanty meed of bread and board to a few, sank into a moribund condition hardly conducive to the vigorous, dynamic growth of art. The Gurukula system toppled down, since the teacher had been obliged to market his produce. Just now came the music sabha, with its democracy, its hydra-headed tastes, its box-office attitude, its intolerance of what is beyond its ken, and the perennial, disconcerting trek of paper bits to the musician on the dais. Anyone who tossed a few chips at the counter pushed himself in and claimed his right to call the tune. Consequently, there was a lowering of the standard. The creative artists, never prolific in number, found their occupation gone, in the face of the premium set upon cheap, tawdry stuff that tickled the ear for the nonce.

It was in this welter of confusion that the scale of values was upset and things like the harmonium and the Indian Orchestra, short-time summer courses and postal tuitions, came in. The general literacy of the musician went so low that it gave birth to a despicable practice which, perhaps, has no parallel anywhere else in the world. Telugu songs came to be written in Tamil, with absolutely no idea of the phonetics of the language, not to speak of the purport of the pieces. No condemnation is too strong for this melancholy state of affairs. A working knowledge of Telugu is easy to acquire. This has been made indispensable to all earnest students of music by Sri Thyagaraja and a host of distinguished composers who have wrought priceless gems in the language. It is said that the late Mr. Gokhale learnt Bengalee to enjoy the ‘Gitanjali’ in the original. What shall I say of a monumental work in Telugu which I have been looking through with awe and reverence for the last 16 years and yet I feel I have touched but a fringe of it? I refer to the "Sangeeta Sampradaya Pradarsini", a stupendous work of enduring art, compiled with superhuman effort and the most consummate skill, by the late Subbarama Dikshitar of Ettaiyapuram. The work is a veritable colosseum, and has also shared its fate at the hands of more than one pilferer. But it has not had the recognition it deserves, for two reasons. Firstly it is in Telugu. Secondly, the system of notation it adopts requires very good Swaragnanam, constant practice, infinite patience and above all a sound and practical knowledge of veena technique on the part of those who go to it. I cannot help in this connection, a reference to the late Dhanammal who followed the system with meticulous precision as I could verify during the twelve years I sat at her feet. The notation I have referred to is one of the most important aspects of our music. Unfortunately, however, it is not as widely prevalent as it should be. The need for popularising it is very urgent, especially after the decline of Gurukula and Karnaparampara traditions. Of the thousands of Sri Thyagaraja’s compositions not more than 600 are extant today. Kshetragna records that he composed 4200 padams. Not more than thirty of them can be rescued from oblivion, if even now diligent efforts are made in that direction. The genius of Carnatic music being what it is, there is no other way of preserving classical compositions except through notation on the lines of the great work just now referred to. With more than 25 years of incessant practice, and having learnt over 700 compositions only through our traditional notation and sight reading, I firmly believe that a great deal of fruitful activity and yeoman service to music await our Universities and academies if only they will realise the wonderful possibilities. The importance of this cannot be over-estimated, as the blessings it confers on a student of the art are manifold. For among others, it sharpens the sensitiveness of the ear makes for ready and unerring Swaragnanam, gives a sure, analytical grasp of the principles of layam, renders the task of learning new things incredibly easy, effects considerable economy in time and labour, and is a convenient vehicle for transmission of musical material through writing. The neglect of this important medium of musical expression accounts for the paucity of well edited high class literature that may be classed with "Sampradaya Pradarsini." It is a great pity that not one of the numerous institutions that profess to labour for the advancement of music has felt the urge to form a committee of experts to collect and edit what little is still left of the compositions of great masters like Sri Thyagaraja, Dikshithar, Syama Sastri, Subbaraya Sastri, Kshetragna, Pallavi Gopalier, Dharmapuri Subbarayar, Gopalakrishna Bharati, Muthu Thandavar, Ghanam Krishmier, Anantha Bharati, Arunachala Kavi, Patnam Subramanya Ayyar, Ramanathapuram Srinivasa Ayyangar, Kavi Kunjara Bharathi and Srirangam Venkatadri Swamigal.

"Sampradaya Pradarsini," which has been referred to more than once, was a publication financed at immense sacrifice by the ruling family of Ettaaryapuram. The work contains quite a large number of compositions in Sanskrit, Telugu and Tamil by members of the family. The most distinguished of them appears to be Kumara Ettendra whose thirteen pieces are of surpassing beauty. Now another royal family is out to place the music world under a deep debt of gratitude. The publication of the multi lingual compositions of Maharajah Swati Tirunal is in progress. It augurs very well indeed for the enterprise that the editing has been entrusted to the Grand Old man of Carnatic musicians, Brahmasri Harikesanallur Muthiah Bhagavathar, himself a composer of renown. We may, therefore, look forward to a publication of inestimable value, since Maharajah Swati Tirunal’s compositions have already established a reputation far and wide, thanks to the resource and zeal of the royal patrons of Travancore.

Modern mechanisation is another powerful agent that can help to conserve our heritage. It has already brought about a revolution by making music a cheap article of everyday consumption and handing it to the masses. The gramophone and the Radio may be turned to very good account if a syndicate of musicians and patrons put their shoulders to the wheel in a spirit of service and brotherhood and create a co-operative trust, free from the clogs of commercialism and conflicting allegiances. If they hitch their waggon to the star, and get the best material available for purposes of recording, the gramophone may yet redeem itself and play its part well. The Radio is fast developing into a mighty institution whose influence on society may be considerable. But its activities are not confined to music, nor is advancement of the art one of its aims. Its obvious pursuit is large-scale catering on a thousand lines. So enlightened public opinion has to make its weight felt, so that Broadcasting Stations may bring about necessary readjustments in their programmes. For instance they may easily cut down the number of artistes booked from day to day. This will save a great deal of money and labour, and improve the quality of music. They can do away with short programmes that only encourage superficiality and stifle spontaneity and originality. They can place an embargo on songs like Neeirangai, Intaparaka, manasasancharare and adumchidambaram that have been repeated beyond the limits of endurance. They can reassess the value of a twenty-five minute Veena recital at noon, a fifteen minute music lesson flashed across the ether, and the entire music of a film story brought from the silver screen to the mike. No institution under the sun is perfect. Broadcasting is no exception to this rule. As it brings music to the very door, it is a formidable rival to the music hall, and a potential force for good or evil. Hence it is incumbent on those in charge of music programmes to regard their work as a sacred mission, stand four-square against considerations of fear or favour, of reformist clamour or communal and sectional eruptions, and maintain a proper balance as between a fledgeling in art and a scholar, between talent and mediocrity. With this end in view, they can seek the co-operation of an advisory body of persons steeped in musical culture, and not of mere non-official dignitaries.

Next to the gramophone and the Radio, the talkie claims our notice. As a rival, if not a successor, to the South Indian stage, the talkie, perhaps, is on a lower level of taste and culture, so far as music is concerned. The success and popularity of a film story has largely depended on the extent to which its musical output has caught popular fancy and the number of song-hits it has sent into the street. Crude imitation of North Indian tunes, plagiarism of old pieces, and a discordant, ear-splitting outlandish jazz, known as background orchestra, have combined in a murderous assault on Carnatic music. A veritable Pandora’s Box has been opened and it does not look as if the fairy will make her appearance in the near future. Many must have noted with a bleeding heart how popular taste is being corrupted, especially by things like the incoherent orchestral preludes to the song hits of stars and satellites. It is all so un-Indian, if not unmusical, and alien to the genius, structure, delicate refinement and spiritual appeal of Carnatic music.

I have mentioned a number of factors that nave a definite influence on the progress of music. The advent of democracy in the realm of art, as I said before, has not been an unmixed blessing. The art and its exponents were held in great veneration when the former was the exclusive property of a narrow guild. But it disappeared when every mountebank passed for an artist, and every frivolous music-fan claimed to be a critic and a connoisseur. High seriousness and dignity, somnolent repose, virile suggestiveness, and spontaneous free play of imagination are elements of excellence in art that must be carefully nourished if it is to stand the stress and hustle of modern conditions. With the time limit and the set programme of the reformist, came the thin end of the wedge. An interdict descended on distinctive features of cultural music like Swaram and Pallavi. The next step was taken when beautiful instruments like the kanjira and the ghatam fell into disgrace. Even the, nagaswaram made free love to the tambura and mridangam, however ill-assorted and incongruous the alignment might look. Hurry was the prevailing key-note, and so elaborate Raga-alapana and pallavi ceased to be the forte of the nagaswaram player. He took a second to help him and both served out kritis and miscellaneous hits with a vengeance. The Veena and the Venu went to the wilderness, and so did the Harikatha, a glorious institution built up by illustrious veterans like Krishna Bhagavathar and Pandit Lakshmanachariar. Civilized life, constant travel, and other things ruined the vocalist’s voice to such an extent that the Carnatic musician of today makes a dismal picture beside his compeer in the north, in point of pitch, range, volume, melody and flexibility of voice. Came the Brindaganam and the variety entertainment, and vandalism reached its limits.

So much about the ills that afflict the world of music. How shall we find remedies for them? I have suggested a few lines on which matters may be improved. Music is a vehicle of spritual culture. From time immemorial it has been reckoned an upaveda and a sadhana for higher pursuits. The hierarchy associated with it was drawn from the class of the siddhar, the rishi, the bhakta, and the upasaka. Only when the musician fell away from his ideals and noble pursuits did he lose caste. Our land has never known such a thing as secular music. So nothing short of a sea-change in our attitude as a whole can achieve anything. To remain indifferent when a rare link with the glorious past like the late Veena Dhanammal languished in poverty and obscurity, and then to flood the press and the platform with messages and speeches when she had passed from our midst can not be of any use.

To start with, institutions connected with music should raise the standard of material either taught or purveyed. The place of honour should be assigned to ragam, madyamakalam, swarakalpana and similar items that develop creative ingenuity. To say this is not to minimise the importance of building up an extensive repertoire, especially drawn from Sri Thyagaraja, with due deference to those who exalt other composers and start unedifying controversies. Plagiarism should be ruthlessly stamped out, so that music may not pollute our ears any longer. Instruments should receive very great attention for the advantages they possess over the voice. Accompanying instruments that promote symmetry and provide scope for individual talent should be encouraged. Moreover, the music of the sounds has a wider appeal than the music of the words, and a good acquaintance with an instrument is an insurance against charlatanry. The veena should be rescued from the depths to which it has sunk. Ordinarily, it is a harmonium or a gotu-vadyam that emerges from it nowadays, and not genuine veena music. For the technique of the veena is almost a lost art. The Broadcasting Stations in South India have been according a very liberal measure of encouragement to the veena in particular. One notes it with grateful thanks. But so far, quality does not appear to have weighed with them as much as quantity, and the proportion of solo to combined veena and vocal music may be more equitably adjusted. Lastly, false prophets who plump for standardisation and regimentation in music, and those who base their claims on mere heredity or should be given short shrift.

Another unique feature of music that South India has preserved through all the vicissitudes of time and tide is Bharata Natya. Caught in the cobwebs of ignorance and prejudice, consigned to oblivion through popular indifference, and shunned by misguided reformism as an odious social excrescence, it was hanging between life and death for a long time. Now came upon the scene a frail, unobtrusive youth, the gifted scion of a long line of savants devoted to this branch of art. He waved his magic wand. At a single bound the art rose sphinx-like to the firmament. It shed the coarseness that had enmeshed it for a time, and revealed itself as a thing of immeasurable beauty and joy. He who had come as a messiah saw that his life’s mission had been fulfilled, and art had come into its own. Just then the gods called him, and he went, though yet in the prime of life. May his soul rest in peace! This revival of dance has been greeted with great enthusiasm all over the country. Even our children have caught this new spirit so much that almost every child that attends a girls’ school is a danseuse. The culture, refinement, and world-wide influence of Adyar should be sufficient to ensure the future of dance as a national expression of art. May this new-born enthusiasm bear fruit in sustained creative activity all round, so that we may yet hold our heads up as children of the home of art, our beloved Mother India!

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