The
Music of Hindostan
By
A.
H. Fox Stragways
Of
Thyagayyar or Thyagaraja of Tanjore (early 19th century) more is
known. He was revered by his
contemporaries as a perfectly sincere and selfless man; he was an ascetic in
the original sense of the word, one who ‘prepared’ his heart for the reception
of truth. In Mudaliar Chinnaswami’s
Oriental Music sixty of his songs (kritis) are printed in staff notation, accompanied
by adequate indications of scale, time, and tempo. There is also a list of eight hundred more
and this is probably not exhaustive.
They are all in Telugu, the most musical language of the South, as
Bengali is to the North. They exhibit
considerable sense of balance, as may be seen from the structure of the
songs. They refrain from abusing the ear
with excessive compass and eschew cheap contrasts, both of which are to be
found in the compositions of less able musicians. He signs his songs; that is to say he ends
them with words such as “This is the last counsel of Thyagaraja” or “You who
are the treasure of Thygagaraja’s heart.”
This is
common practice in the mediaeval songs of
But the
practice does not appear to have attractions for Thyagaraja; he resists
them. Neither does he seem to be
particularly in love with Swaras. Swara,
in the South, Sargam in the North means a rapid passage in which the notes are
sung to the sol-fa names instead of the words as an amazing feat of skill. It takes the place of our cadenza and like
thalt, was occasionally added by another hand.
Swaras occur in only four of his sixty songs.
There is
a pretty story about Thyagaraja’s meeting with ‘Shatkala’ Govinda Marar, a fine
musician of Travancore. Shatkala means
six-time and time is here used in the sense of ‘diminutions’ i.e. that a piece
that had been in crotchets was now sung in quavars; and the point is that he
could diminish six times over, i.e. begin with his theme in semibreves and end
with it in semi-demi-semi-quavers. He
used to sing to a Tambura with seven strings – the ordinary Tambura has only
four; and this instrument seems to have been a sort of bow of Ulysses to
inferior singers; in token of which apparently, it was adorned with a
flag. They met at Thyagaraja’s house at
Thiruvayaru in 1843, where the greet man was sitting with his disciples. Marar after listening to the disciples
expressed a wish to hear Thyagaraja himself.
“Who is the man, asked Thyagaraja in Telugu “that can ask me to
sing?” Apparently the audience were to
hear him only when he sang of his own record.
One of his disciples pointed to Marar, sitting with a flagged Tampura in
his hand, and was told that Marar could sing a little. A Pallavi was then sung around and when it
came to Govinda Marar’s turn, the other instruments had to be laid aside and
his Tampura only used, so high was the pitch of the music. He sang it in Shatkala and Thyagaraja
recognized the caliber of Marar.
Immediately, Thyagaraja improvised on the spot a song in the Sri Ragam
which is the Ragam sung at the close of performance of which the burden was,
“There are many great men in the world and I respect them all.” This contrast well with the many stories
there are of professional jealousy which are too unlovely to repeat here.