Carnatic prayer in Hindustani shrine

AHMEDABAD: On Sunday, Pandit L Subramaniam — one of the greatest music vidwans who is also a medical doctor — prescribed a safeguard against fatigue in the human desire to rise. On Saturday, the maestro had performed at the Times of India Lakshminarayana Global Music Festival in Delhi. The concert series pays homage to his father and guru who was himself a legendary violinist.
Speaking to TOI on Sunday, a few hours before his recital on Day 11 of Saptak, Pandit Subramaniam said: “I am exhausted.” Then he played well past 2 am.“When I am on stage, sound takes over,” Panditji told TOI after the recital. “For me, sound is prayer.” His programme began with Kalyani varnam. In Carnatic music, ‘varnam’ refers to expositions that present the features of a raga.
Classical exponents like Pandit Subramaniam occupy a plane much higher than expertise. So purists acclaimed his command of metres, orchestration of mystical loops, and glowing fibrillations of tones. But Pandit Subramaniam’s art does not exclude fledgling rasikas; they are welcomed at the level of their own ‘bhava’ or emotion. So for those who are, say, inclined to make literary connections, Panditji’s opening of Kalyani would have recalled the hushed and delicate joy of a poet finding the right word after a long starless struggle with doubt. The climax was made of thunders speaking in verse.
And so the programme went, with rasikas becoming more indifferent to the clock with every arc of Panditji’s hand over his violin. After 1 am, he played a composition by his father “Shiva Shiva Shiva” set to Karaharapriya. “It is my father’s birthday today,” Panditji told the audience. The sustained applause was a mark of respect for the legacy. In fact, Panditji was accompanied by his poised son, Ambi. The young musician often had his eyes closed as if to focus on his inner voice, honed by his father. When asked how it was to perform with an icon, Ambi said: “It is awesome. I have the best seat in the house!”
As for Pandit Subramaniam, his mountain of genius is capped by humility. “I played Kalyani because this boy said he wanted to hear it,” Panditji said, pointing to a Saptak student. Day 11 ended with a rare standing ovation. Earlier, Panditji had set up another uncommon moment at Saptak by staging a duet of his accompanists — Venkata Ramanamurthy (mridangam) and G Satya Sai (morsing). When Panditji and Ambi joined the tremendous duel of the accompanists, individual brilliance resolved into the illumination of great art.