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Learning and Listening -- Not Mutually Exclusive
"The ideal of absolute music is reached only through manodharma Ten year old Vani is dressed up and ready to get into the car. Today is Aradhana celebrations at the temple and Vani is going to sing two compositions of Saint Thyagaraja. Durga, Vani’s mother, is visibly excited about Vani giving her first public performance. At about ten thirty in the morning, Vani arrives at the temple, flanked by her father and mother on either side. Vani and her parents enter the auditorium, walk towards the front row and seat themselves. Around 11 A.M., one of the organizers announces Vani’s name as the next performer. Vani walks briskly to the stage, carrying her sruthi box in her right hand, and confidently sits in front of the microphone. After checking her voice alignment with the sruthi with all the decorum of a professional, she starts to sing her first song, Marukelara in Jayantha Sri. She follows it with a second composition, Thelisi Rama Chinthanatho in Poorna Chandrika. Vani, having learnt music for only three years, performs flawlessly and renders the songs exactly as taught by her teacher. After her performance, Vani gets down from the stage and walks towards her parents. They are already standing up, waiting to escort her out of the auditorium. Vani turns to her mother and says, “Mom, my friend Jayanthi is going to sing around noon. Can we stay and listen?” Durga responds, “Vani. I don’t want to waste another hour sitting here. We have things to do. And besides, most of your friends don’t sing like you anyway. You’re a pro and these other kids are just pretending to sing.” Vani persists,” Mom! Jayanthi is really good. She won first prize in the Cleveland competition, two years in a row.” Durga ignores her daughter’s pleas and walks towards the door. Sometimes, listening to music is as much of an art as the performance itself. Carnatic music is a life-long experience and it must be experienced both consciously and sub-consciously through learning, listening, and meditating. To Durga, listening to her daughter sing is an act of love, but listening to others sing is a waste of time. What Durga must recognize is how to sustain her daughter’s interest in music beyond her temporary sense of accomplishment. If Vani’s musical training is to translate into true learning, it must be through a lifetime of listening to music. Listening and learning are compliments to each other. If Vani learns without having the experience of listening and enjoying, she cannot explore her own creativeness. What makes a student into an artist is taking a song and infusing creativity into it and making it one’s own - not just mimicking the teacher’s lessons. Creativity or manodharma can only be self-learnt through listening to others and through reflection. It is the ability of a performer to extemporaneously produce ideas and generate emotions. Indian music is sustained on the emotional content of a raga, and the raga is the soul of a composition. A performer must be capable of bringing out the character and personality of a raga; otherwise, neither the raga nor the composition would be worth listening to. Manodharma is the pre-eminent aspect of Carnatic music. Attributes such as raga alapana, swara kalpana, gamaka evolve out of manodharma. A performer can develop manodharma only when he or she feels within himself or herself the bhava (emotions) that each raga and composition generates – through subjective experience.
Every year, Sadguru Sangeetha Samajam, Purasawalkam organized a Thyagaraja Aradhana. The Aradhana was celebrated as Akandaghana (48 hours of non-stop singing). My father made certain that I was there by his side during the entire 48 hours and that I listened to every performer, regardless of their age or stature. During one of these Akandams, the father of a teenager approached the organizer and asked whether his son could be allowed to participate. It was already late, around 11:30 p.m. There were only a handful of people in the audience, most of whom professional musicians and very well-known in their field. Looking around at the titans present in the audience, as a fellow-teenager, my heart went out to the meek-looking young man. “I hope he doesn’t get nervous and forget the lines.” But, seeming impervious to the august audience, the thin shy boy of thirteen approached the stage and sat in front of the microphone. He then closed his eyes and began to sing Saint Thyagaraja’s composition in Sahana, “Ema Nadhi Chevo’. His singing was so sincere and so divinely inspired that it brought Thyagaraja’s words from the composition ”Swararaga Sudharasa” to life - only music that evolves from deep within the soul will lead to blissful heaven. (“Mooladharaja Nadha Merungutaye Mudamagu Mokshamura”). The senior musicians were spell bound by the devotion coming out of the small body in front of them. I turned to look at my father and saw tears streaming down his face. The young man, with his sincerity, devotion, and bhakthi (attributes that Thyagaraja says is essential for Nadhopasana or musical Sadhana) had touched the soul of everyone in the room. Nearly five decades had passed since I heard that young man sing, but I can still feel the emotions that I felt that night. That was the night that I fell in love with Carnatic music; and I will always thank my father for making me experience it. Ram S. Sriram serves as Distinguished Professor at College of Business, Georgia State University, Atlanta. He is also a Mridangis and writes on music philosophy. His articles on music and other topics are available at the website www.vidyarthi.org. He can be reached at sriramgsu@gmail.com
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Comments on this Article
Arunima Menon
[Portland, OR.
Jul 4, 2009 3:35:47 PM]
Shantu Shah
[Portland, OR.
Jul 4, 2009 11:39:20 AM]
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