An invocation of divinity

Travelling through the Southern States for a variety of reasons led me to get to know this amazing creation and legendary artiste. Hotel after hotel, restaurant after restaurant, irrespective of the stars attached from the lowly chai stalls on handcarts, to even some five star restaurants over the breakfast service would play this in the background at varying volumes. The legendary voice associated with the invocation of divinity has graced and purified hundreds of millions of hearts , minds and souls for tens of thousands of days.

The lady who sang this, is a true inspiration and a template for anyone from modest background who can rise with sheer dedication and single minded focus and effort. In the case of M S Subbulaxmi‘s case, she came notionally from an exploited segment of society, that of Devadasis. That she rose way beyond the confines of an exploited class to become a widely and uniformly revered person is a tribute to her lifetime of pure, unwavering single minded and untiring effort. She started learning Carnatic Music under the tutelage of the legendary Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer and later went on to learn Hindustani Classical Music under Pandit Narayanrao Vyas.

Madurai Shanmukhavadivu Subbulakshmi  would have been 104 years old last Wednesday (16th September) and as the name suggests, was from Madurai, the temple town. Despite her very modest background, she rose to truly legendary and rarefied heights. She is the First Indian Musician to perform in the United Nations General Assembly way back in 1966.  She was an ardent devotee of Kanchi Mahaswamigal Mahaperiyava, Jagadguru Shri Chandrashekharendra Saraswati Swamigal and chose to sing his apt composition Maithreem Bhajatha (O World! Cultivate peace) in her concert at the UNGA.

She is the first Indian musician to be recognised for her dedication to propagation of Classical music by being conferred the Ramon Magsaysay award (in 1974) with the citation stating her as the “leading exponent of Classical and Semi Classical songs in Carnatic tradition acknowledged by exacting purists”. She was the first musician ever to be awarded the Bharat Ratna in 1998.

Her stature was praised by various luminaries in India in various terms. Chacha Nehru had this to say of her “Who am I, a mere Prime Minister before a Queen, a Queen of Music“. While Lata Mangeshkar (who again came from a childhood of extreme struggle, called her Tapaswini (the Renunciate), Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan called her Suswaralakshmi (the goddess of the perfect note), and the great Kishoritai Amonkar called her the ultimate eighth note or Aathuvaan Sur, which is above the seven notes basic to all music. The great national leader and poetess Sarojini Naidu called her “Nightingale of India“. https://youtu.be/krGYd5tZe0A

After such a beginning to the day, it isn’t any surprise that the rest of the day passes off in absolute bliss. Even this 20-minute recording of Venkatesha Suprabhatam made by her for HMV, has its royalty pledged in all perpetuity to the Veda Pathashala run by the Tirupati Tirumala Devasthanam.

I always imagine this song in the unspoilt rustic environment of rural India, this song playing in the background , sounds of the warblers singing in tune and chirping in sync, someone sweeping the courtyard and then spraying the water to make the dust settle, smell of incense burning, the enticing aroma of food being cooked, the thousands of harmonious sounds, sights and smells of village life, serene and easy paced. the invocation to worship by the sounding of bells in temples as devotees enter and announce their entry to all present by the sounding of the bell, the smoke rising lazily from a score of wood-burning stoves/ choolahs from the rooftop chimneys, the Golden yellow sun tardily and reluctantly rising and it’s rays streaming through the misty air, glistening through the dew drops, lighting up the webs that spiders have so industriously built the previous night, and in cool, misty early mornings sitting on a reclining cloth chair sipping piping hot frothy filter coffee in the thin rimmed conical stainless steel glass and smacking one’s lips to what gastronomic pleasure awaits me after that. That’s my idea of bliss, a recurring nirvana that I would like to experience in the last moments of my life.

Stay safe, stay in bliss, folks, while the song plays in my head in a continuous loop this Tuesday.

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