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The
magic of Murali – A tribute to a maestro
By T.M.Anantharaman |
For over four decades, I am captive to his music.
“Music follows me wherever I go,” he
smiled mischievously recently while in Bangalore.
Quite like him to be assertive, at times even cryptic!
Branded as a maverick by “purists”,
a word to which he takes strong objections, he revels
in twisting their tails and springing surprises.
His creative juices seem to be flowing in full vigour
even after more than six decades as a performing
musician. |
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There is no denying that he has carved
a special niche in Carnatic music by dint of sheer
hard work.
Yes, even creativity demands focused work even though,
as he claims, “I never touch the tampura to
practice. Without music, I am nowhere, I am nothing!”
Elsewhere he had noted that “music just follows
me.” True, because he not only sings but also
plays the viola, violin, mridangam, kanjira and
veena, besides composing and directing music for
films. He has done all, including playback singing
and acting in some films, with equal enthusiasm
and facility.
He continues to be popular as a performing musician
and is a living paradigm, a legend who has taken
Carnatic music to new heights of awareness and creativity.
He loves to demolish established viewpoints. When
an interviewer asked his reaction to criticism that
he flouted tradition, he retorted that people who
talk about tradition don’t know what it really
means.
He affirmed: “Tradition is only the base,
the foundation—i.e. sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, dha,
ni. Based on this, each singer builds his or her
own structure. Each builds a house according to
one’s tastes. Each singer has a style of his/her
own. So those who talk about preserving tradition
don’t know what they are talking about!”
He has a point because music is constantly evolving.
There is continuity but the same idioms, phrases,
swaras et al. are imbued with a fresh approach by
each singer.
By creativity, I am, of course, talking about the
magic of Balamurali’s music. I have been an
unabashed admirer of his music for decades. This
tribute I pen in his honour on the day when he is
reaching another milestone in his illustrious, colourful
career.
He will turn 78 on July 6. Perhaps ‘old’
is not quite right. It should be ‘young’
because even now he is quite agile and lively!
Not long ago, he proved it by giving a concert to
a legion of his admirers at the Tirumala temple
precincts—a place where he had vowed earlier
he would never sing.
It took him over 17 years to relent because at long
last the Andhra Government had agreed to restore
links with him by recognising his contribution to
classical music art form. It also appointed him
once again as the “Aasthana Vidwan”
of Tirupati Devastanam for two years.
Balamurali had been vociferously pointing out that
the Andhra Government had done little all these
years to recognise classical musicians and their
contributions for the cultural resurgence witnessed
in recent times.
Where Andhra lagged, Karnataka has stolen a march
as it were. He was awarded the title “Musician
of the Century” by one of the religious institutions
in the state. That brings my focus once again on
this musician extraordinaire and why I admire him
so much.
Mangalampalli Balamuralikrishna is an iconoclast
in Carnatic classical music, no doubt about it.
He has ventured into composing own kritis in all
72-mela karta ragas and many of them are quite beautiful.
Just as if to rub it in to those diehard-old-timers,
he sings with nonchalance many of his own kritis
on concert platforms.
I particularly like the Naganandini (melakarta raga)
piece played by him on the violo; his kriti “Dakshayini
rakshamam dritam” arresting in its sweep and
hauntingly melodious.
And he takes puckish delight by singing entirely
new ragas, many of which are his own creations:
ragas like Mahati, Sumukam, Lavangi, Manorama, Vallabhi,
Trisakthi, Rohini, Sushama etc.
Many of these new genre ragas transgress the traditional
theory of having a minimum of five notes in the
arohana and avarohana (ascending and descending
scales). Ragas like “Mahati” and “Sumukam”
have become popular despite having four notes only
and are very captivating when he enunciates them.
He surprised the Chembur (Bombay) audience in 1966
by singing a captivating “Mahati” and
his composition “mahinya madhura murthey”
beautifully surprising the pundits no end. I still
have the audio tape of this concert where he also
sings captivating swaras for raga “Mohanangi”
in the ragamalika phase for the exhilarating ragam-tanam-pallavi
in raga “Thodi”.
I also have a London Kentington Town Hall concert
where he has sung a brilliant “Subhapanthuvarali”
raga with Thyagaraja composition “Ne pogda
kunte”; a Bahrain concert where he sings a
hauntingly evocative Dasar kriti “ Ye paria
sobagu ennava devadali kaane” in raga Hamsanandi
and the awe-inspiring “Omkara karini”
in raga Lavangi, his own creation.
Who can forget the melodic beauty that he etched,
carved and embellished with when singing rare ragas
like Sunadhavionodhini (devadi deva of Mysore Vasudeva
Char) and Hamsavinodhini (his own composition guruni
smarimbo) in the sixties or early seventies?
Many of his compositions, numbering over 400 mostly
in Telugu but in many other languages as well including
Tamil, stand testimony to the high creative muse
he brings to musical modes and poetry.
More importantly, most of these are imbued with
not only lyrical content but a grand structural
design, outlining the intrinsic characteristics
of the notes on which the ragas are based.
Many examples can be given. His ability to play
with notes and its corresponding sounds are matchless,
witness the superb phrasings in the kriti “sada
thava pada sannithim” in raga Shanmukhapriya.
Or, the inimitably classic melakarta Sarasangi and
his original composition “Hanuma, hanuma O
numama” where as he says “the ‘note
ma’ comes spontaneously in all places where
the sound ‘ma’comes!”?
Or, again the many awe-inspiring yet musically-rich
varnams, notably the brilliant “amma ananda
dayini” in raga Gambira Nattai (its ending
is compared with the “thunderstorm in the
sixth symphony of Beethoven” by his disciple
Prince Rama Varma). I have heard it sung with facility
and flair by the popular Aruna Sairam in one concert
at the RR Sabha in Mylapore, Chennai, some years
ago.
Last but not least, the cascading, titillating,
multi-hued tillanas (described aptly by one ardent
fan as “thrillanas”) that he has composed
and rendered to the joy of the connoisseurs and
laymen alike!
These are some of magical moments from Murali that
I will preserve and cherish for as long as I live.
Many may not be aware that in some respects he reveres
tradition as much as anybody else. Even his traditional
singing has a creative spark. The “utsava
sampradya” compositions of Thyagaraja or the
Ashtapathis of Jayadeva get a new lease of life
as it were when Murali imparts his magic to them.
Or take for example the songs of Narayana Theerthar
or Sadashiva Brimhendrar or Badrachala Ramadas.
They are soaked in bhava and become effulgent entities
with bakhti rasa when he embellishes them with his
inimitable soulful music!
A “narayanethe namo namo” in raga Behag
or a “pibare rama rasam” in tugging
Ahir Bhairavi or a “ paluke bangarumayina”
in melodious Anandabhairavi are veritable examples
of his intuitive skills in making music appeal to
one and all.
I have one tape of his concert given way back in
the seventies in Bangalore where he has sung the
Saveri composition of Thyagaraja “ Chalu chalu
Nee Vuntulu” and Dikshitar’s memorable
Bhairavi kriti “Bala gopala” in a truly
devotional mood and yet enchanting style.
And another sung at about the same time I think
where he tugs at your heart with a brilliantly moving
Kambodhi raga with a masterful “Evari mata
vinna” of Thyagaraja and a highly original
Mandari raga with the kriti “Sagala kellaku
neene” ( composer unknown but the kriti is
in praise of Lord Shiva).
I must not forget to mention two of the most enchanting
film songs rendered by him: “thanga radam
vandadu” in the melodious raga Abhogi from
the film Kalai Kovil; and the classical ragamalika
“orunal poduma” from the film Tiruvilayadal.
These are timeless, memorable melodies, and quite
popular even today many decades after they were
first sung.
This tribute, however, is not to talk about his
creative abilities as a singer but as a perceptive
musician full of wit and humour.
Back in the late sixties when he had swept Bombay
off its feet with such beautiful ditties like “brihadeeswara
mahadeva” in lilting Kanada or “nagumomu
ganaleni”in a pleasing Abheri , he was participating
in a lec-dem at the Anushakti Nagar Sabha near Chembur.
Somebody asked him why “some talas have ‘edupu’
after the start of a beat, while others have it
with the start of the tala beat. In his inimitable
spunky style, he said: “We all know how we
are born but do we know why we are born? Singing
to a tala is like this!”
Somebody else wanted to know how to distinguish
between a minor and a major raga? His reply: “There
are no major or minor ragas, only major or minor
musicians!” A ripple of laughter coasted through
the audience, many smiling and nodding their heads
in agreement.
His amazing sense of humour has been revealed at
other times too. His disciple Prince RamaVarma once
gave a list asking him to sing many rare ragas,
including some of his own creations. Looking at
the long list, Balamurali remarked: “Usually
it is the guru who gives a test to his disciple,
but here he is putting me to test!.” And,
the audience tittered and was won over easily!
I was witness to his unique brand of humour in other
places too. In Chembur, Bombay, he once sang raga
Latangi in a concert at the Shell colony with a
rare panache, including in one place touching even
a foreign note, followed by his beautiful composition
“tamra lochani latangi”. When one local
musician after the concert asked him how come he
had used a foreign note while singing the raga,
Balamurali replied: “ You see I tried it and
liked it and kept it that way.” I was present
and was dumbfounded by the sheer cheekiness of his
comment.
At the Shastri Hall Sabha in Luz area of Mylapore,
Chennai, there was a discussion on the topic “Carnatic
music today” and participants on the dais
included, among others, mridangist Umayalpuram Sivaraman,
violin maestro Lalgudi Jayaraman and Balamuralikrishna.
When his turn came to speak, Balamurali began with
the preamble how only Sivaraman knew the exact moment
to start playing the mridangam when he was singing
a song like “brihadeeswara mahadeva”
and pointed out that Sivaraman first keenly observed
where the beats should begin for a song and then
accordingly joined in.
Next, he turned to Lalgudi Jayaraman as if to say
‘what do I say about you’ and then facing
the audience said: “We all know what an excellent
violinist Lalgudi Jayraman is. But I also know one
more thing about him.” There, typically Balamurali
paused!
The audience was hooked, curiosity roused and waiting
eagerly to find out what he would add further. After
a brief pause and a smile, Balamurali continued:
“Few of you know that Lalgudi Sir is an excellent
singer too. We singers thank the Lord that he has
confined himself to playing the violin. If he had
chosen to give vocal concerts, we all would have
to look for other professions to make our living!”
There was a thunderous applause and Lalgudi was
clean bowled and all smiles enjoying the open admiration
of his talents by Balamurali.
Once Balamurali in his concert had seen some in
the audience leaving their seats immediately after
the mridangist began the“thani avartanam”.
Balamurali stooped before his mike and announced:
“There will be a 15 minutes interval after
the ‘thani avartanam’. Please remain
seated. After that we will all go out. I will also
come with you for coffee!”
On another occasion when he was singing at the Music
Academy after a gap of 10 years or so, the then
Academy president T.T.Vasu said how much he was
an admirer of Balamurali’s music and he was
grateful that the singer had come to perform in
the Academy after a long gap. “In appreciation
of his gesture we present Balamurali with a cheque
for Rs one lakh,” he said and presented the
cheque.
Balamurali bowed and accepted the honour and said:
“I thank the Academy for this fine gesture
but I would like to donate this amount back to the
Academy so that they can start a fund to help indigent
musicians.”
In those days Rs.1 lakh was big money and Balamurali
had once again pointed out the flaw in the system
by this gesture—many deserving musicians were
eking out a hand-to- mouth living and such a fund
was the crying need of the hour.
To a question once whether one could sing swaras
at great speed, Balamurali replied: “You know
there is a laya when you speak. If not, I cannot
follow what you say. It is the same when you sing
swaras in speed. If there is a laya, there will
be a natural flow. Speed must come with a natural
flow, not just to create an effect!”
I could go on about innovations Balamurali had brought
into the concert platforms when at the peak of his
career. He was the first to introduce an “interval”
in Carnatic music concert, an action which invited
much criticism then from “purists “
but later found acceptance by the public because
they wanted a break for tea or coffee or refreshments.
He was also first to participate in jugalbandi concerts
with renowned Hindustani classical musicians and
get respect for Carnatic music by exhibiting not
only his superior voice quality but also sheer exuberance
of the Carnatic melody, especially in the ‘kalpana
swara’ prasthara phase of the concerts.
The opposition was simply no match for his genius
in raga elaboration, singing of kritis, manodharma
swaras or simply devotional numbers, including in
Hindustani ragas like Ahir Bhairav or Darbari or
Chandrakauns.
Truly, he is a creative artist who has stamped his
own style of singing. In the process, he has opened
up new vistas to take the grammar and beauty of
Carnatic music forward and has brought immense listening
pleasure to thousands like me!
Balamurali was once speaking in a TV interview with
lady ghazal singer Penaz Masani. She asked: “So
how would you describe your music?” To which
Balamurali jokingly replied: “Three Ms means
music – Masani (referring to Penaz Masani),
Murali and Money.” That should sum it up.
Except I would say three Ms should stand for music,
maestro and memorable when one speaks of Balamurali.
Here is wishing more creative punch to his endeavours
in music on his 78th birthday and wishing him many
happy returns of the day!
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