Crossing Boundaries

A newly released three-CD set by Saregama is a welcome tribute to Rajam’s journey. The worlds of Hindustani and Carnatic continue to be divided by prejudice rather than the Godavari. Only a musician certain of her craft would have the confidence to take that leap. The collection contains archival recordings of Rajam and the pieces reflect her versatility. The CDs reveal how her style combines an internalisation of Thakur’s gayaki and her variations on it. What may not be evident is the starting point of her lessons in music: her renditions,in their scope are pure khayal,with no whiff of her Carnatic roots. But the technical rigor enforced by training in the Carnatic tradition,perhaps,eased her transition.

Rajam began her training in Carnatic violin under her father,A Narayana Iyer,at the age of three. By nine,she had qualified as an artiste of the All India Radio. By 12,she had completed a national tour with MS Subbulakshmi as her violin accompanist. It seemed that,like her brother TN Krishnan,she was on her way to becoming a violin virtuoso in the Carnatic tradition. “But my father wanted one of his children to play the violin in the Hindustani style. In the 1920s,he had spent a lot of time in Bombay. Because of his proximity to Pandit Vishnu Digambar Paluskar,he had developed a great love for Hindustani music. And I found myself in Varanasi,where it was possible to realise my father’s desire,” says Rajam,speaking from Hubli,Karnataka where she teaches at the Gangubai Hangal Gurukul. 

As a child,she had heard the 78 RPM recordings of Thakur. “I didn’t even know the ABC of Hindustani music,but there was a magic in his voice that attracted me,” she says. When it came to choosing a guru in Varanasi,therefore,the choice was obvious. She went with her father to Thakur with an introductory letter from violinist M S Gopalakrishnan’s father (who was an aide of Pandit Vishnu Digambar Paluskar,Thakur’s guru). The letter got her an audience with the maestro,but she had to perform for him before she was accepted. Her training in Carnatic had ensured that she had perfect technical command,but she was apprehensive about playing a raga in the Hindustani style before him. “Even though I had studied Hindustani music for my intermediate examinations,I wasn’t sure if that preparation was going to be enough,” she says. 

She need not have lost sleep. It did not take long for the otherwise short-tempered maestro to develop a soft corner for her. Within a few years of talim,he dropped a “thunderbolt,” says Rajam,“he asked me to accompany him in a concert in Bombay. Whatever I played,he reacted aloud with ‘vah beti’ and ‘chalo beti’.” From that recital onwards,she accompanied him in almost all his concerts till his death in 1967. Thakur had developed a distinctive singing style,in casual reference,it even came to be known as the ‘Omkarnath style’ of singing. “I had been reproducing vocal patterns on the violin ever since I started playing. Yet,I would have to spend weeks,sometime months,before I could perfect just one of his phrases. His music was charged with emotion. Getting the notes was easy,but successfully conveying the same emotion on the violin was very challenging,” says Rajam. 

Before her,there had been no Hindustani music tradition of a violin style based solely on the gayaki ang. In Carnatic,there is no separate grammar for instrumental music; all instruments replicate vocal patterns. In Hindustani,though,instruments largely follow the tenets of tantrakari — aspects that are specific to instrumental music. “When the violin was beginning to find a place as a solo instrument alongside the sarod and the sitar,the natural tendency of violinists was to also follow the tantrakari style in order to match up to those older instruments,” says Rajam. Violin legend,the late Pandit VG Jog,for example,was a disciple of Baba Allauddin Khan and played in the Maihar gharana style that is specific to instrumental music. Shishir Kana Dhar Choudhury,arguably the finest exponent of the tantrakari style on the violin today,also plays in the Maihar style. The predominance of the Maihar gharana can probably be attributed to Khan. He was the fountainhead of the gharana and,apart from being the sarod legend that he is known to be,was also a violin maestro. 

“It was not a bed of roses,” says Rajam,about finding acceptance with the new style that she introduced. “For some reason,people assumed my music sounded different because I was from south India. But the truth is that I have never fused Carnatic and Hindustani. I always kept them distinct.”

Audiences soon realised the logic behind adapting the gayaki style onto the violin: being a bowed instrument,like the sarangi,it could sustain a note for much longer than plucked instruments like the sarod or the sitar and was suited to mirror what the voice could produce. Given that Rajam has been a strong advocate of this style on the violin,it is believed that she is opposed to the aesthetics of tantrakari on the violin. “But that is not correct,” she responds. “My recitals do have elements of instrumental music towards the end,especially when I am performing a tarana or playing jhala.”

In the new CD set,the two taranas (Malkauns,Bageshree) and the two short drut pieces (Hamir,Kalavati) contain flashes of her tantrakari. The bhajans,chaitis and kajris bring out her versatility in traversing both khayal and the lighter genres. Pandit Omkarnath Thakur fans will enjoy the short rendition of Nilambari,that captures the maestro’s nuances to perfection,and Thumak chalat evokes Pandit DV Paluskar’s celebrated rendition. In spite of these more popular inclusions,though,the Bageshri,Malkauns and Darbari are the treasures. The extended renditions are classic Rajam: evocative vistaars interspersed with trademark Omkarnath Thakur gamaks. Above all,her accuracy makes her music piercing. In the Darbari,when she first hits the vital komal gandhar,it is difficult to ignore the tug deep inside. Like her guru,she has achieved what eludes most musicians: to rise above grammar and gharana and evoke those emotions that make you reach for your handkerchief before it gets embarrassing.

(Arunabha Deb is a Kolkata-based freelance journalist)