My father-in-law's sudden demise a few weeks back in Chennai led to a series of unexpected events. Having grown up in a traditional Hindu family that diligently followed the lunar calendar, the slew of funeral rites wasn't a complete surprise. But for the first time I was house bound with several females ranging from 84 years to 8 years with my husband being the sole male in the house. And when a couple of sharp tongued women like my sisters-in-law, experts of the madisar sari, were thrown into the mix, it became a testing ground of sorts for me.

“Don't let go of the leg on the sari ...” My husband's aunt muttered under her breath as she tied the nine-yards sari for me for the first time. It appeared to be a complex procedure of gymnastic steps as I followed her instructions. A tuck here and there, legs akimbo, and twirls every now and then. By the third day, I got the hang of it and was ready to face the music even as the women kept up the drill in other activities. “Don't walk too fast, take small steps!” everyone chorused as I flitted around in my new avatar. Whenever I slipped up, my husband's sisters were only too happy to pull me up!

My friends were curious to know how I had pulled this off. For someone who barely knew how to tie a six-yards sari with finesse as a young bride, I had come a looong way. Do I dare mention that the internet can be a marvelous resource for those who have no 84 year old aunts helping you go the whole nine yards?

As I quickly run through the ideas listed on page 3, the phone rings. It's my father who begins a long-winded explanation on why he needs the driver. “Cut to the chase, Dad” the words slip out inadvertently. For a moment he's too befuddled to respond. After all, he's still not come to the reason of the phone call! I assure him that I would return his call in a few minutes and race back to my desk. The ideas are now jumping at me and I'm raring to go. For the next few minutes the sound of furious typing echoes in the living room. Only the quiet chime of the clock can be heard in the background. As I'm halfway through the piece, a sneaky thought appears . Is the writing a tad dull? Does it need a bit of pizazz? Soon enough, alarm bells start ringing in my head. But no, it's the doorbell - who could it be now?

My sister-in-law breezes in behind the maid announcing, "I need to see my brother!". There's a light of battle in her eyes. "Close your ears, I'm going to talk to him!" Easier said than done. I'm out of cotton balls at the moment.

Mentally wishing everyone to perdition, I head back to my cozy little corner. The piece is shaping up well. It's time for that punchline. One that will make or break the article. I run through several scenarios in my head, laugh out loud even as the spouse looks askance at me. When I write the last word of the article, I expect to hear the roll of drums. Or better still the strains of some soft music. Instead I get the jarring sounds of vessels being dropped in the kitchen sink.

Sarali varisaigal are sequential swara patterns sung in Ragam Mayamalavagowla. They help students get a good grip of shruthi or pitch, talam or rhythm and a good foundation of the different notes. Janta varisaigal are patterns of two notes while the Dhaatu swaras are zigzag patterns that give students greater control over the notes. Later when students attempt kalpana swaras using their imagination, these initial exercises come in handy. So even if you're grumbling and moaning while your teacher is relentless in making you practise these exercises, you'll certainly thank her later! Students of Hindustani music learn these swara patterns in raag Bilawal, which corresponds to raga Shakarabaranam in the Carnatic scale.

Beginning with sarali varisaigal, students learn to sing 14 different patterns in three different speeds. Once they master sarali, they move on to the janta. My teacher often asked me to practise singing the same sarali and janta varisagal in different ragas (sampoorna ragas which had all seven notes) to break the monotony! Practising the dhaatu varisaigal, whether as a vocal or an instrumental exercise, helps students get a firm grip on the placing of the notes at any point. The melstayi and mantra stayi patterns exercises the vocal chords in higher and lower octaves.

Alankaras, the next stage in abhyasagaanam introduces students to the tala scheme of Carnatic music. There are 7 different tala families in the system, each tala having 5 varieties, thereby allowing 35 possible talas in the system. The three kinds of beats in a tala are anudhritam (one beat), dhrutham (two beats) and laghu (3/4/5/7/9 beats).

Geetams and Swarajathis are the next stepping stones on the path of learning Carnatic music. Geethams are basic songs with simple swara patterns and lyrics. I remember the day I Iearnt my first geetam, Shri Gananadha in ragam Malahari. Finally after several weeks of hearing me sing swaras, swaras and more swaras my teacher got tired of seeing my mournful face in class. When he began teaching the song - one which had lyrics I felt I had stepped into the big league-:)There was a renewed surge of energy in my music classes as I waded my way through the geethams, each captivating me with a magic of its own. As you listen to the podcast, please remember to comment on the blog (the good, the bad and the ugly). Happy listening!

In case you missed our first podcast on Gamakas, you can catch it here

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Poetry of the vernacular poets being set to music has been attempted by several composers. Whether it is the vachanas of the Kannada composers such as Basavanna,  the Divya Prabandhangal of the Alwar saints in Tamil, Kabir's dohas, Sangam literature such as verses from Silappadikaram (MS singing Vadavaraya mathaki at her UN concert in 1966), musicians have tried to bring life to several exquisite forms of poetry with their creativity and acumen. My recent album Saranagathi was one such attempt - original music score by a friend/musician in the US who composed the music for 30 verses from Kulasekhara Alwar's Perumal Tirumozhi.

When poetry is being transliterated to musical form, it adds a new dimension to it. The same verses now reach a wider audience. It's like adding that zing to your favourite dish. Many of us have listened to MS rendering Bhaja Govindam - can you now imagine reciting the same verses in staccato fashion? It doesn't matter if you sing off-key, but you're in your comfort zone singing the tune of your childhood. If you try reciting the same verses, you know there's something missing.

I believe the composer has a huge responsibility here. He needs to understand the poetry, the mood of the poet before selecting the raga. One cannot choose a raga like Shuba Pantuvarali when the poet talks about a rainy day, neither can we listen to Sama when Rama goes to war with the lord of Lanka!

Years back, a dancer in the SF Bay Area had asked me to set the music for a few verses penned by a Sanskrit professor in DC. The whole piece was about an immigrant's dilemma in the US. The poem began with the the immigrant pondering as to why he was drawn to the land of opportunity. The questions haunt his mind day and night. I chose raga Mohanam for the introductory verse. The next verse talked about why he continued to live in a land where he was treated as a secondary citizen (Bhagesri as there was an element of despair). As this was a dance program there was a visual element in the mix and was a big hit at the Asian Performing arts festival.

Poetry is all about emotion as is music. When the two meet, there’s magic in the air.

Beginning with the varnam in Hamsadhvani Jalajakshi sung in all three speeds, he moved on to a sprightly Vasantha piece by Purandaradasar Kodubega divya mathi. The evergreen Tyagaraja favourite Oru joopu raa in raga Kannada Gowla (sung in a slower tempo than the norm with emphasis on sahitya) followed by Entharo mahanubhavulu set the pace for the concert. An unusual alapana in Kaanada in a taanam format that portrayed the raga beautifully for Purandaradasa kriti "Dhaasanthe" was followed by Vadiraja's composition in Hamsadhvani. Vadirajaswamy is RKPadmanabha's revered deity. The main item of the concert was Subramanya Namaste. The sancharas in Raga Kambodhi were vivid, dynamic and sung with a lot of feeling.
The accompanists were CNChandrashekhar (violin), C.Cheluvaraju (mridangam).

Last week a friend forwarded a review of her recent article in the Statesman. It was a scathing review and took her completely by surprise. I commiserated with her, having been in the same situation with music critics. When an unflattering review of my concert appeared in the paper, with the critic sparing no words, I had cringed with shame. The accompanying photo only added insult to injury. That’s when I remembered my aunt’s sage advice, “Any criticism, however unwelcome, is better than no feedback at all!”

What is the worst that could happen in such a scenario? My friends and family would recall the offending review for a day, at best a week and then move on. But I still hadn‘t. I had also conveniently forgotten the good reviews that had appeared in the same press. In my naiveté, I’d assumed that the world revolved around me. Luckily it didn’t.

No one likes to be criticized. Why do we find it difficult to accept criticism? In my opinion, how criticism is delivered makes all the difference. A soft tone of voice, a pleasant expression, and relaxed body language while communicating, is the key. It’s non-trivial especially when we’re frothing at the mouth and have worked ourselves up to face our unsuspecting quarry. Like a well-made sandwich, criticism has to be layered. Start with a compliment, then go for the jugular with your constructive criticism and finish with another compliment. When criticism is warranted, don’t hesitate. It takes grace to accept criticism, and courage to dole it out. Winston Churchill’s quote comes to mind. “Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfils the same functions as pain in the human body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things.”

“We’ll stop at the temple on the way out!“ My father is emphatic. Whenever I have a concert he insists on breaking the proverbial coconut at the corner Ganesha temple. While I have last minute jitters of getting to the concert venue on time, my father nonchalantly goes about the business of propitiating the elephant God. As another Vinayaka Chaturthi festival passes by, I find myself wondering why Ganesha seems to figure in our lives only when we need something to happen.

To test my hypothesis I began quizzing my friends and neighbours. Rita, my neighbour's daughter was my first interviewee. I asked her about her temple routine. “When my exam results are due, I do several rounds of the temple with multiple offerings of flowers and fruits.” “What happens between exams?” I asked. "Oh, just one round, sometimes a coconut thrown in!" Last week when another friend underwent a battery of tests with her doctor, the "modaka" preparations at her home gained astronomical importance. As always my husband had his own take on matters. “Ganesha is probably the most overworked God among the Hindu pantheon today” he declared pompously - ensuring he was out of my father's earshot.

Having grown up in a traditional family bound to the lunar calendar and every Hindu festival on it I never did question my beliefs. Today as the mother of two girls who question everything and want to know why we are doing something, I feel the picture of Swami Vivekananda in my living room mocks my passive acceptance.

My friend who lives in the US scoffs at my "silly spiritual struggles" as he terms it. “I don’t believe in visiting temples or undertaking pujas. God resides in every human being!” Strangely enough when he comes visiting, a trip to Tirupati with his parents always features in his itinerary. I’m sure he doesn't go there for just the scenic beauty!

This post is about the song, Sri Chakra Raja Simhasaneshwari praising the mother Goddess. It is a ragamalika composed by Agastyar and the words are in Sanskrit and Tamil. The ragas include Senchurutti, Punnagavarali, Nadanamakriya and Sindhubhairavi. All four ragas are highly emotive in nature and used in light classical compositions. The practice of Sri Chakra involves the worship of the deity in the form of a diagram (nine inter-locking triangles) that represents both Shiva and Shakthi, the yin and yang of human nature.

Here are the lyrics of the song.

Raga-Senchurutti
P: shrI cakrarAja simhAsanEshvari shrI lalitAmbikE bhuvanEshvari
A: Agama vEda kalAmaya rUpiNi akhila carAcara janani nArAyaNi
nAga kankaNa naTarAja manOhari jnAna vidyEshvari rAjarAjEshvari

Raga-Nadanamakriya
C1: palavidamAi unnai pADavum Adavum pADi koNDADum anbar padamalar shUDavum
ulagam muzhudum ena tagamurakkANavum oru nilai taruvAi kanchi kAmEshvari

Raga-Punnagavarali
2: uzhanru tirinda ennai uttamanAgi vaittAi uyariya periyOruDan onriDakkUTTi vaittAi
nizhalenat toDarnda munnUzhk koDumaiyai nInga sheidAi nityakalyANi bhavAni padmEshvari

Raga-Sindhubhairavi
3: tunbappuDatiiliTTut tuyavanAkki vaittAi toDarnda mun mAyam nIkki piranda payanai tandAi
anbai pugaTTi undan Adalaik kANa sheidAi aDaikkalam nIyE amma akhilANDEshvari

Listen to Maharajapuram Santhanam and his sons sing Sri Chakra Raja

If you plan on visiting your old uncle or aunt in the evening, think twice. Chances are their favourite serial is playing on television at that time and your visit may not be that welcome. I'm not sure if these serials are a boon or a curse. Some of them are so bad with hackneyed plots and terrible acting I wonder why our seniors settle for such dismal viewing fare. Whenever I talk to them, each would insist that their favourite serial is a cut above the rest!

My mother vehemently argues that it's good entertainment for people like her as she can't go out on her own in the evenings. Failing eyesight means that those books have to be put away. 'Listening to music 24/7 isn't enough', she declares. When I make an attempt to understand the storyline behind some of these serials, I get confused. Either that or my comprehension level is that of a first grader. In most cases, the heroine turns out to be a hard nut to crack after undergoing the worst traumas, or there are a lot of evil people out there in the world. Some of the scenarios are X-rated with extra-marital affairs galore and actors wearing costumes showing less cloth and more sizzle. When I listen to an aunt empathize with the pathetic heroine or villify the wicked sister-in-law, it's hard to distinguish reality from fiction. There is so much passion in her narration, I'm ready to give her an Oscar. But your wicked sister-in-law or mother-in-law would never identify themselves with the characters on screen even if its their story being played out. And that's the reason for the long innings of serials like Kyon Ki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi.

So the next time you want to visit your octogenarian uncle, remember to call first.

Recently I had been to a Diwali party where a renowned dancer did an impromptu session of abhinaya for the song "Himagiri Tanaye", composition of Muthiah Bhagavathar in Ragam Shudha Dhanyasi. As I sang and watched her execute the dance steps all the while explaining the mudras I was amazed at the ease with which she related to the kids. There was magic in the air that night and the children couldn't stop smiling.

The incident reminded me of my own music teachers and how their patience and guidance motivated me through my learning years. Teaching fine arts to children is non-trivial. A teacher has to encourage and inspire the child to scale new heights.

In an age where Bollywood culture is part of our lives, pervasive in almost every corner, training in the classical arts requires a lot of discipline, both mental and physical. I believe that kids have it tougher now than before. When I watch my older child juggle her dance and music classes with a ton of school homework, projects and what-have-you, I realize that time management is critical in her case.

The social milieu makes a big difference too. In Chennai learning Carnatic music and/or Bharata natyam is more common and children there are exposed to a high quality of performances all the year around in almost every neighbourhood. They have role models who seem to be getting younger day by day. But I see a change in the newer breed of classical performers today as they use modern technology and tools to make the classical arts more accessible to the youth. Podcasts, lec-dems, workshops, seminars, learning on skype, and fusion programs help to draw more of the "Pappu can't dance/sing" crowd to the classical halls.