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Memories of flute Mali & mama |
By
T.M. Anantharaman
tmaraman@yahoo.com
How time flies! And springs surprises!
I knew him as an erudite music lover.
Above all, I came to know him as a die-hard fan
of flute Mali (flautist T.R. Mahalingam).
It’s been quite a while since I had met him.
Now I hear Mama is no more! Sad, very sad, indeed!
Bangalore music circles will surely miss Mama ( Shri
K.S. Ramnath ). Actually, the |
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patrons of The Sree
Ramakrishna Bhajana Sabha. And, of course, the regulars
at the Odukathur Mutt hall in the picturesque Ulsoor
Lake area where he used to be a conspicuous, towering
presence!
The void left by Mama is difficult
to fill. I, too, miss him a lot.
For, he used to regale me with many stories on Mali.
He was not just a fanatical fan of Mali but also
his very close friend.
There are many vintage anecdotes. Mama would shed
tears at the very mention of Mali’s name.
He would reminisce closing his eyes and go into
something of a trance.
After a brief pause, he would recapitulate the wonderful
days spent with Mali—the kind of eccentric
genius that Mali was, his style of playing, and
his attitude to music and people.
As one who has been quite a fan, I had also followed
Mali’s life and times over the years. I recall
some interesting anecdotes with Mali as the main
persona, some from what Mama had said, some from
our uncles’ comments and some as told to me
by friends.
My brother Sivaraman has already given an excellent
account of our family’s interaction with Mali
during our Lakshmipuram days in Chennai. The agility
with which Mali countered my uncle’s comment
“adhey Bhairavi” with a poser “adhey
Bhairaviya?” revealed how quick he was on
the uptake. Being branded or perceived as ‘static
musician for over two decades’ was the last
thing he wanted! Even if the remark “adhey
Bhairavi” was wholly unintended in that sense!
I recall what Mama had told me in Bangalore about
how he came into contact with Mali in 1965 and got
bowled over by his mesmerising music. Playing flute
became a passion with Mama and he studied it for
eight years, first under Gnanasekara Rao in Palghat
and later under Mali’s disciple Dindugal Natarajan.
It was not long before Mama became a personal friend
of Mali and over the years attended scores of Mali’s
concerts all over the country.
“There
is no one who can ever be a patch on Mali, both
as a musician and as a person.” he once observed
going into a sort of reverie. "Above all Mali
was a good soul," I remember him saying. And
adding: “you could always notice him being
pre-occupied with something or the other, be it
music, politics, sports or other subjects. He was
an excellent conversationalist with a select few
with whom he had developed kinship."
How different was Mali from others in playing the
flute? Mama had explained: "Before Mali came
on the scene, flute was being played by many. There
was the famous Palladam Sanjeeva Rao and earlier
his guru Saraba Sastri. But with them, flute playing
was similar to playing on harmonium keys -- flat
and jumping from one swara to another without the
gamaka which can be imparted to a swara.”
“It was Mali on his own who transformed
flute playing with effective gamakas - he had the
uncanny ability to play madyamam (the note Ma) without
actually touching Ma directly. This he did by oscillating
from Gandhara (note Ga) in a smooth, melodic way
and stretching it to touch Ma, with telling effect.
The gamaka playing of the notes was the closest
to one that can be achieved by the human voice,
best suited to do this with clarity. Mali is the
only musician those days to have achieved that clarity."
Mama had also recalled another peculiarity of the
enigmatic Mali who wanted to psyche himself into
playing the flute in a free-flowing manner before
a concert. It was typical of Mali's eccentric nature
to go for the difficult way to get into the mood.
To motivate him to do well, he used to keep a thick
and heavy bamboo stick (of 4” to 5 "
diameter) which he had cut and drilled holes giving
it the appearance of a flute. He kept the big bamboo
shaft by his side while playing his "anju kattai
shruti flute" and that apparently gave a boost
to his morale. Just seeing the heavy bamboo punched
with holes lying by his side would give him the
confidence that he too could blow properly into
the heavy-toned flute he was playing for the concert.
Mali, according to Mama, had an original approach
to playing the compositions. While vocalists would
start the anu-pallavi of a kriti at a higher pitch,
say with the panchamam of the upper octave, Mali
would start the anu-pallavi at the lower panchamam.
For example in the kriti “Manavi nalakimcha”
of Thyagaraja in raga Nalinakanti, vocalists or
violinists generally would begin the anu-pallavi
"Ganudaina Ramachandru nee" at the upper
panchamam while Mali would start the phrase at a
lower Pa, giving it a distinct and ethereal beauty
as he felt playing the phrase at the upper Pa in
the flute would be unmusical.
The entire concept of playing the flute, Mama had
noted, was revolutionised by Mali. In those days,
it was generally said no one could play the Bhairavi
raga gamaka-laden varnam Viriboni in three speeds.
In fact, a Vijayawada-based uncle of Mali had pooh-poohed
the idea when talking with Mali one day. But Mali
liked challenges and said he could easily do it
with full justice to the gamakas as well.
He demonstrated it without a single flaw to his
uncle. Believe it or not, Mali had won a one-anna
bet for doing it. That was Mali. He was eccentric,
yes. But he was also a genius!
Mama also often spoke about Mali's mental makeup.
"Generally Mali liked to be a recluse and didn't
bond easily with people. But with those whom he
became friendly, he used to gently tap the shoulder
to draw attention to a point he was making or touch
and hold hands while talking.
“When
introduced to someone, he would just nod and often
raise both of his clasped hands across his face
in an awkward angle and look askance at the person
being introduced. Only if he knew the person well
would his face light up with an infectious smile.”
One unforgettable anecdote which Mama had narrated
related to an incident which happened sometime during
1967 when a well-known veena vidwan who was on his
honeymoon had come to stay with Mama as his guest
in Bangalore.
The vidwan was to give a concert at the Town Hall
and on the day of the concert, he urged Mama to
bring along Mali to attend the concert. This was
a difficult job as Mali hated attending someone
else's music concert.
Somehow Mama had persuaded Mali to attend the concert
that evening and with great reluctance, Mali had
come along. But he was not the type to make any
grand entrance and so he covered his head with a
shawl as he entered. Someone had spotted him entering
the hall and soon the word got around that it was
indeed Mali.
To recall Mama’s words:" It was a dramatic
moment, for as soon as Mali entered the hall, the
entire audience stood up and gave him a standing
ovation. Mali was embarrassed but I was thrilled
to find that my "maanaseeka guru" get
such a wonderful reception. The Veena vidwan stopped
playing, stood up and bowed with a namaste. to Mali
who acknowledged the greeting in his usual fashion
by clasping his hand together in a twisted angle
in front of his face and making a small gesture
of namaste.
“The vidwan resumed his
concert and soon Mali got fidgety and kept on nudging
me and saying “let's go!”
"We
had hardly sat at the concert for 15 minutes or
so but Mali was insistent that we should leave.
Finally, I had no option but to go out with him
and Mali was silent during the drive back to his
residence at Devanahalli. But as soon as he got
out of the car he remarked, 'Ananda Bhairavi, Ramnath,
is like a mid-ocean wave!"
Mama had immediately understood the real import
of what Mali was trying to convey. He also knew
then the reason why Mali wanted to leave the concert.
It was clear that Mali didn't like the way the vidwan
had handled raga Ananda Bhairavi.
Mali's comment made it evident that in his book
the raga Ananda Bhairavi had to be handled delicately
with proper gamakas and cadence and poise and dignity
just as the mid-ocean wave bobbed along in grace
in a cadence of its own without creating any turbulence
or rippling effect.
Mama had noted: "I at once knew what Mali meant.
And, also the reason why he detested attending anyone
else's music concert. He had his own ideas of how
to play a raga or a kriti and didn't want to be
influenced by someone else's style of singing or
playing. Mali was an original and he wanted to remain
an original, a creator of unique music!"
But Mama is no more. While this is as much a tribute
to Mali as to Mama, I move on to recounting another
funny anecdote narrated by my uncle.
Apparently once when Mali was playing in a Madras
sabha, the accompanying violinist was playing rather
loudly. My uncles who were sitting together whispered
about the violinist, commenting to the effect “konjam
adakki vasicha nanna irukkum” (Translated
it would mean “it would be nice if he played
in a little subdued tone!”).
No sooner was this said than they were horrified
to see one of their elderly relatives standing up
and saying openly to the violinist: “Oyi,
konjum adakki vassiyum. Naanga flute Mali kekka
vandirukkom!” (Hey! Play in a subdued fashion.
We have come to listen to flute Mali”.)
For my uncles it was without a doubt one of the
most embarrassing moments in a Mali concert.
Another incident I recall relates to the concert
Mali was giving in the famous Shanmukhananda Sabha
of Bombay. In the midst of the concert, there was
a remark by Mali to the violinist: “No! That
is not right!” The violinist played again
and again Mali pointed out it was not correct.
Miffed, the violinist said: “Each instrument
has a range. What I can play on the violin you cannot
reproduce on the flute.” Then he played on
the violin the highest note in the upper octave,
the sharpest pitch you possibly could hear.
Mali put down his flute and joined the audience
in applauding the violinist and said: “you
are right!”
But the sequel is even more fascinating. Mali, it
is said, continued the concert playing another raga
but started it at the highest possible pitch, winning
a round of applause from all present. That was Mali’s
genius!
Over the years I had heard many Mali concerts. While
his flute playing technique has been enshrined for
ever, the melodies he used to conjure up and his
unique sound quality remains afresh.
Not many may be aware that Mali was an excellent
violin player as well. Once I had seen him essaying
a beautiful Sankarabharanam raga at his Chennai
residence when I had gone there with my uncle early
one morning. He smiled and welcomed us but continued
to play for some more time till he was satisfied
with his effort. We were naturally thrilled to the
core to discover a new facet to this musical wizard.
Sometimes I wonder what sort of a violinist he would
have turned out to be had he taken to playing it
full time? Accomplished, most certainly! But would
he have been as brilliant as he was on the flute?
A moot point best left to the realms of one’s
own imagination, isn’t it?
I have also witnessed the violinist and mridangam
vidwans squirm and sweat it out with effort. when
accompanying Mali. He used to put super-fast sangathis
or swara-prayogas in double-quick beats. He would
set a frenetic pace and they were made to work hard
and do overtime.
Like a mischievous little boy, he would often move
his cupped fingers over the thick lock of hair falling
on his forehead in an attempt to push them back
in place. He would look at the listeners and smile
and sometimes even wink. The audience simply loved
seeing him do this!
Mali everyone knew had an astounding grasp of laya
and its intricacies. I recall two melodies: one
an astonishingly original conception of Kapi raga.
This tape I preserve for the sheer pleasure it gives
me every time I hear the raga.
Another favourite of mine is the “magudi”
piece he used to play towards the end of the concert
on public demand. That he revered tradition is also
reflected in the exquisite rendition of the Tirupugazh
‘naada bindu kaladi namo namo’in raga
Chenchurutti and unbelievably moving portrayals
of ragas like Bhairavi, Pantuvarali, Kamboji, Kedara
Gowla, Anandha Bhairavi, Khamas, Todi, Kalyani and
Sankarabaranam, to name some.
Occasionally he would also essay an exquisite but
crisp Kanada, Sahana, Saraswathi or a delectably
racy “Raghuvamsasudha” in the raga Kathanakuthoohalam,
bringing indescribable but copious joy to listeners
in keeping with the mood of the raga.
To this day, I recall the joyous “Nalinakanti”
raga which was one of his favourites. To me, they
all epitomise the inventiveness of this genius who
was truly and emphatically much ahead of his times.
The innovations of the sangathis that he used to
produce in flute playing in general were simply
astonishing and one must listen to his music attentively
to know the dynamics and interplay of notes he managed
to cull out.
There will be many flautists, no doubt. Many indeed
play very well. But for me and scores of other music
lovers, there can be one and only one Mali, a living
legend...
For he brought rich listening pleasure with his
heavy but slow-paced and steady delineation of the
ragas - what in Tamil one could say “ghanamana,
saukya nadam” and “nidaanam”,
two of Mali’s qualities unmatched by any contemporary
flautist!
Mali was the rare combination of a traditionalist
endowed with pure inspiration. In short, he was
a boon to carnatic music with his unmatched melody,
texture and tonal quality. His music will ring for
ever with joy in our memory!
Flute
Mali – A trail-blazer
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