A childhood soaked in music

As a child in a family of musical legends, my earliest and most vivid memories are of my father and guru Chitravina Narasimhan grooming my elder brother Ravikiran, younger sister Kiranavali, cousin Ganesh and me, and Ravikiran practising to sing in -- not three or four -- but six speeds! 

Music was in our lives every minute of every day, so much so that it was our first language -- we learnt to sing before we learnt to talk! 

Role reversal 

My father was an expert at making music child’s play, quite literally! The grille gate of our house, which conveniently had 36 vertical bars, became our lesson in melakarta ragas; a little stream of water that flowed as my father gardened became our introduction to srotovaaha yati; a line of ants became pipilika yati and so on. Even when we were children, he had dedicated his life to teaching and grooming us. That meant that my mother was the breadwinner, working as she did in a bank, and my grandmother took care of us at home. My mother was multi-faceted and would teach us Sanskrit and shlokas.

Spirituality 

Spirituality was also an integral part of my childhood, even though I did not realise its importance then. The stories of Prahlada and Dhruva, which we listened to as children, left an indelible impression on us. Like Prahlada, my brother and I once decided that we would go to ‘the forest’, and so walked all the way from Adyar to the Kapaleeshwar temple tank in Mylapore to take a holy dip! Taking after my grandparents, I would write pages after pages of ‘Shri Rama Jayam’ and also chant Lord Rama’s name – even though I did not realise its significance as a child. During Navarathri, my mother would take me along on all her golu visits. I had a loud voice, so when I sang (which I happily did!) people would come to listen, and I loved all the clapping and sundal that followed! (On a side note, I also loved mangoes and kanji (porridge) and was nicknamed ‘kanji raja’!) 

Radio concerts and childhood heroes 

Every day, for as long as I can remember, we would practise from 5 am to 8 am, and again in the evenings. But listening to legends was as important as practising. So we grew up on a staple of radio concerts, listening to great masters every day. I remember listening to 78 RPMs in a programme titled Isai Amudam, a mere 15 minutes in the mornings, but it is etched in my memory to this day as a source of immense inspiration. I will never forget Mysore Raja Iyengar’s Jagadodharana, Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar’s Anupama Gunambudhi and Raattiname Gandhi Kai Baanam, D.K. Pattammal’s Valli Kanavan Perai, N.C. Vasanthakokilam’s En Palli Kondeer Aiya, G.N. Balasubramaniam’s Radha Sametha Krishna and Dikku Theriyadha Kaatil, Madurai Mani Iyer’s Eppo Varuvaaro and Sarasasamadana…I could go on and on! 

Between 9.30 and 11 pm, Season concerts would be broadcast – I have heard immortal concerts and combinations: Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer with Prof. T.N. Krishnan, Trichy Sankaran and Umayalpuram Sivaraman, Lalgudi Jayaraman with Umayalpuram Sivaraman, etc. At the age of 8-9 I remember listening to recordings of GNB and live concerts of Semmangudi, and being completely awed by everything they sang! It was around the time T.N. Seshagopalan took the Carnatic scene by storm: like my father, he could sing in any shruti; he had an expansive repertoire, inimitable laya skills, immense classical value – he was the whole package! I was inspired by the legend Lalgudi Jayaraman; I also loved M.S. Gopalakrishnan for the rich tone of his violin (and would go to all his concerts). I was awed by the combination of M.D. Ramanathan and Prof. T.N. Krishnan – they sounded like two voices instead of one voice and one violin! 

Travel and performances 

Live performances were equally important. My father would take us to concerts and morning sessions at the Music Academy; we were regulars even when I was 2.5-3 years old! We also travelled regularly. As a child, I also went to Jamshedpur, Tata Nagar, Allahabad, Mumbai, Hyderabad, Bengaluru and many other places across the country. In fact just before one particular trip to Jamshedpur, I had had a cycle accident, so my father had to take care of all my needs during the train journey! 

I remember staying with my cousins in Hyderabad at the age of three. I would ‘perform’ at home every day, end each concert diligently with ‘pavamana’ and offer tickets to ‘moksham’ to anyone who wanted to listen to my on-stage performances! 

I also remember sitting on a wall at Fort High School, amidst huge crowds, listening to Madurai Somu. It would feel like a stadium of sorts! A plate would be sent around to collect donations from the audience. My father would have given me some money for that purpose before the concert, so I would drop it in the plate with excitement! 

Inspired by all the yesteryear musicians we heard, my brother and I would play games that involved us ‘travelling’ to meet them as well as our grandfather (Gottuvadyam Narayana Iyengar), whom we had never met. 

                                                                                                                                       …to be continued