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 Counting the trees, missing the forest
The Internet has
given voice to a swarm of new critics of Carnatic
music. With ready access to a myriad of forums, people voice their opinions
about the shortcomings in the Carnatic music
concerts that they have recently attended. They express opinions on
everything from inadequate elaboration of a raga to incorrect swara prastharas. While these
self-appointed critics score well on their technical knowledge of Carnatic music, they seem to lose out on the listening
experience.
We enhance our
knowledge of music through learning, listening and reasoning. Knowledge
eventually helps us differentiate a good performance from a poor
performance. We begin to appreciate the nuances – well-rendered gamakas and swara kalpanas that illustrate the beauty of a raga to
mathematical computations that demonstrate the complexity of a tala. During this process of learning, we also become
skilled in identifying the deficiencies in performance.
But, we cannot claim
knowledge merely because we are good at preparing a laundry list of
mistakes made by a musician during a performance. We acquire knowledge only
when we recognise that regardless of who the performer is or how good the performance is, the
true purpose of Carnatic music is pursuit of bhakthi and devotion. We become truly learned only when
the swaras uplift us mentally and spiritually and
when we relate to the swaras as “mooladharaja nadah” or as
sounds that originate from within our souls. But these days, as we become
better critics, we also seem to be moving farther away from the spiritual
satisfaction that evolves from listening to our music. That is, we are
getting better at counting the trees while missing the forest entirely.
One of the reasons we
are better at criticism than appreciation is because Carnatic
music is complex and it easily lends itself to critical analysis and to
subjective perceptions and interpretations. It is easier to pick holes in a
performance than in contemplating on the meaning and messages contained in
a kriti. With less effort, we can comment on
everything from the appropriateness of the use of sudha
rishabam in a certain raga to violation of kala pramanam
during a thani to a musician’s poor fashion
choices. As in a review I recently read in an online Carnatic
music forum, we can even take the liberty of offering unsolicited advice to
the youngsters of this world on why they should never take music lessons
from a particular artiste. In a three-hour concert, as critics, we are not
obligated to point to even a couple of things that the artiste did well.
And, most importantly, we are not required to sign our true names and we
can conveniently hide behind monikers such as: Carnatic
Einstein, Sangeetha Goonda,
or Music Mafia.
I am not opposed to
criticism or critics and I am certainly not defending professional
musicians. When a professional musician does a half-hearted job, critics
have a right to point out why the audiences were not satisfied. But we must
engage in such criticisms by balancing the good with the bad. Our criticism
must be constructive and valuable - ideally an artiste should use it to
improve future performances. A diatribe on an artiste or his fashion sense
adds little value other than boosting our own egos as critics. Perhaps,
this is the reason that someone once wrote that Carnatic
music must be listened to and not read or analysed
– I could not agree more.
The principal reason
we listen to Carnatic music is because it is a
path that leads to inner peace. But, we can walk through this path only when
we identify ourselves with the swaras and the
emotions that they convey. As Saint Tyagaraja
says in the Sankarabharanam kriti
Swara Raga Sudharasa, “Mooladaraja NAada Merungute Mudamagu Mokshamura.”. By listening to the seven swaras and by identifying ourselves with the swaras, we obtain consonance with our inner spirits.
When we travel in the chariot of swaras or “Sapthaswara Chaari” (See: Sri
Tyagaraja’s Sribapriya Sangeethopasana in Atana), we
become content and everything else, including an artiste’s appearance and
performance shortcomings, fades into oblivion.
Perhaps, we should
reflect on the message of Saint Tyagaraja to both
our performers and critics. To the performers, he says that music should be
rendered with humility, vinaya and, most importantly,
devotion. In the Sankarabharanam kriti, ‘Bhakthi Bhiksha Meeyavayya’, Tyagaraja Swami provides the analogy that the most well
rendered song - if sung without devotion - is like brocades and diamonds on
a dead man; it will neither please the performer nor the audience.
As for us, the
critics, Swami emphasises that the benefit of Sangeetha Sastra Gnana is not just the ability to recognise
mistakes but improving our own inner qualities. True knowledge of music
must make us humble and modest. We must place bhakti
above analysis and discussion. In the Kalyani kriti ‘Bhajana Seyave’, Tyagaraja Swami asks
us to refrain from endless debate and discussion and instead to immerse
ourselves in Nama Sankeerthana.
We acquire scholarliness only when we receive benefits such as “Prema, Bhakthi, Sujana, Vathsalyamu, Nema Nishta
Yesodhanamu”: love, devotion, blessings of
elders, grace of God, pure thought, and valuable recognition as a good
human being (Sangeetha Sastra
Gnanamu - Mukhari).
If we forget this
supreme message from our great composer-saint, we are doomed to fail not
only as musical scholars but also as ordinary listeners. As Tyagaraja Swami illustrates, we will be like a donkey
carrying a load of books. The donkey does not understand the value of those
books and does not derive any benefit from its load. When we attend the
next concert, let us travel in the chariot of swaras
and towards harmony and inner peace.
Dr Ram S. Sriram
Atlanta
sriramgsu@gmail.com
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