S G Bindu Rao (

S G Bindu Rao (Part 1)

[[S G Bindu Rao (Part 1) Source: prekshaa]]

One day, at about three in the afternoon, Bindu Rao visited my house. I asked him, “When did you arrive?”

He said, “I left Chitradurga this morning and came here at around eleven, freshened up and had lunch at my younger brother’s place, then I came to see you. I’m now ninety-two years old. I felt like sharing that with you!”

Me: “How did you come here? In a vehicle ¹?”

BR: (pointing towards his legs) “What’s the need for a vehicle when I have these?”

We talked about a few personal matters for some time. When he took leave, I asked him,“Where are you headed to now?”

BR: “I’ve to meet a few old friends in Chamarajpet.”

Me: “Oh it’s so hot outside; shall I arrange for a vehicle?”

BR: “What’s the need for a vehicle to Chamarajpet? It’s quite close by.”

That was the last time I saw him. Anyone who saw the radiance on his face and the fitness of his body that day would have never thought that his demise would be so near.

The General Stores Group

My acquaintance with Bindu Rao pre-dates his acquaintance with me. Back then, I would see him from a distance and immensely admire him in my mind.

It was probably 1910-11. An alley on the western side of Ahmed Buildings in Chickpet, Bangalore. The first store just beside the alley belonged to Shop ² Sitaramaiah. This store sold items like glass articles, soap, salon supplies, stitching thread, knitting thread, varieties of needles, photo frames etc.. Stores like these were called ‘Chițakina Angaḑi’ (ಚಿಟಕಿನ ಅಂಗಡಿ). There were already about eight to ten such shops in Chickpet itself by then.

A group of friends would meet together at Sitaramaiah’s store every day from five thirty to six thirty in the evenings. Everyone who assembled there was employed with different government offices. A few among them are to be reminisced: i. B Venkatakrishnappa, ii. R Venkataramaiah, iii. Inspector Chowdaiah, iv. S N Hanumantha Rao, v. S N Srinivasa Rao, vi. H Nagesh Rao, vii. Shyamaiayangarya, and viii. S G Bindu Rao.

They were all connoisseurs of music and literature. Amongst them, I had close interactions with Venkatakrishnappa. It’s worth writing about him too.

B Venkatakrishnappa

Venkatakrishnappa served as an assistant commissioner in the excise department. We initially gained acquaintance at Maharaja’s College Hostel in Mysore. He was in his senior BA classes. I was in my fourth form (an equivalent of ninth standard). A person by name Madhvacharya who hailed from a place near Madanapalle, was his roommate. Their room was right next to mine. This is how we got acquainted.

Venkatakrishnappa and Madhvacharya were both short in build. Madhvacharya was stout too. He was more affectionate towards me since I too spoke Telugu.

During those days, there existed a student body in our hostel. I was its secretary. Occasionally, discourses from scholars were being organized. Appaji Rao, who was in his senior year FA class had given a lecture once. The day’s session was presided over by Warden B Dasappa. Topic of discourse was Xenophon’s Memorabilia (In memory of his preceptor, Socrates). I presented the vote of thanks after completion of this discourse. Even while the audience were still in the hall, Madhvacharya ran up to me and lifted me up with both his hands. Venkatakrishnappa was also present during this incident.

This is how Venkatakrishnappa’s affection towards me began.

Venkatakrishnappa (at the time of this narration) held a responsible position either at the Secretariat or the Revenue Commissioner’s Office in Bangalore. He made himself free amidst his schedule to practice music and study literature. He was a Saṅketi. Saṅketis proclaim that knowledge of music is their kula-vidyā, handed over to them by their ancestors. Venkatakrishnappa was well-versed in music. In addition to a couple of music collections, he had also authored and published a book called ‘Hārmoniyaṃ svayambodhinī.’

Love for Humour

He has also worked in the field of Kannada literature. He has translated Sir Walter Scott’s Black Dwarf to Kannada as Śyāma-kubja.

Venkatakrishnappa and I met at least three to four times a week in Chickpet. One evening, we were walking towards Sitaramaiah’s shop. Along the way, to our left was Rao Bahadur B K Garudacharya’s City Mart store. It was a routine for a few government officials, lawyers, and pensioners to meet there during evenings for some chit-chat. Someone from the gathering there shouted out my name loudly that day and asked, “Hey! Why hasn’t it come yet?” (ಏನಪ್ಪೋ! ಇನ್ನೂ ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲ?) lifting their hands up in the air and waving them. I couldn’t understand the meaning of that. Venkatakrishnappa immediately paused walking, lifting his arms, waving them in response, said, “Rupee hasn’t come yet, rupee hasn’t come” (ರೂಪಾಯಿ ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲಪ್ಪೋ, ರೂಪಾಯಿ ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲ). I naively asked what it was about. Venkatakrishnappa explained: “Diwan Ananda Rao has sent out copies of your Raṅgācārlu[3] to a few people in his circle. Looking at that, this man is mistaken that you’re handing out free copies to everyone. This is why I said he’ll get the book only if he shells out a rupee.”

He told this and turned to me, “Fool, don’t fall for all these and hand out free copies. You definitely should never do that.” He took a pledge from me.

Venkatakrishnappa was indeed a sāttvika, a person of humour and a benevolent man.

The aforementioned R Venkataramaiah was a relative of Venkatakrishnappa. Venkatakrishnappa was a vocalist; Venkataramaiah was a violinist. Venkataramaiah was with the Co-operative Department. He was a well-built man and dressed fashionably.

Inspector Chowdaiah was well versed in ghața-vādya. He too was a good connoisseur.

Hanumantha and Srinivasa – The two brothers served as Amaldars and then rose to the ranks of assistant commissioners. They were interested in poetry and Purāṇas.

Nagesh Rao and others were connoisseurs of good poetry too.

This is the first part of a three-part English translation of the twentieth essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale (Volume 2) – Kalopasakaru. Reviewd by Paresh Nadig and edited by G S Raghavendra.

Footnotes

S G Bindu Rao (Part 2)

[[S G Bindu Rao (Part 2) Source: prekshaa]]

Beginning of Bhārata-vācana

This group of literary and musical connoisseurs made it a routine to take turns and meet in one of the houses every day after work, once they freshened up. H Nagesh Rao was a tenant at Mirmira Rama Rao’s house on Arcot Srinivasacharya Road. I’ve been a part of this group meeting many times. Venkatakrishnappa would usually sing something. Someone else would chant a Śloka. Bindu Rao would recite the Bhārata. I still wasn’t acquainted with Bindu Rao back then.

Bindu Rao’s Bhārata-vācana began in jest amongst a group of friends. It gradually became his source of happiness. Eventually, it turned out to be his daily routine. Progressively it became his way of life and also a public-ceremony (ಲೋಕಸಮಾರಾಧನೆ) at the same time. It finally became the absolute fulfilment of his life (ಪರಮಜೀವನಸಿದ್ಧಿ). Bhārata-vāchana which started out as an entertainment, thus culminated as a spiritual contentment (ಪರಮಮಾತ್ಮಸಂತೃಪ್ತಿ).

Government Job

Bindu Rao was employed at the secretariat back then. He dressed according to the trends of the times. A flamboyant moustache, open collar coat, neck-tie, pyjamas, and other such extravagances were typical of him. He resembled a man attending a darbar (king’s court). People gossiped about the reputation as a no-nonsense guy he maintained in his office.

On a particular day, a heated argument broke out between Bindu Rao and Assistant Secretary D’Souza. Bindu Rao rolled up the sleeves of his coat and clenched his fists like he was in for a wrestling match. He was then pacified somehow by somebody.

He was transferred to Mysore’s Dasara exhibition office after a while. Impressed by his diligence, B Sitaramacharya, who was one of the secretaries there, selected him to work for offices of Krishna Rajendra Mills and other factories. In this manner, after moving to Mysore, Bindu Rao’s proficiency in Bhārata-vācana matured and eventually grew to be his way of life (ಜೀವಿತವ್ರತ).

Venkannayya ³ and Bindu Rao’s friendship grew around this point in time.

Gamaka lessons at the Parishat

During the year 1933-34, the responsibility of serving as the Vice President of Karnataka Sahitya Parishat was bestowed on me. Back then, the need for encouraging the practice of Bhārata-vācana had become evident to Venkannaiah, A R Krishna Shastri, Srinivasamurthy, and others. As a result of all of their efforts and consent, a decision was made to organize poem rendition (kāvya-vācana) or gamaka classes at the Parishat and it was also decided that Bindu Rao would conduct them.

I have loved the art of gamaka right from my childhood. I had seen Telugu vaiśyas usually practice ‘vācaka’ in towns like Mulbagal, Srinivasapura, Chintamani, etc. A vidvān would teach them Āndhra-Bhāgavata, Manu-Caritramu, etc. The selection of a suitable rāga for a particular situation of the storyline, rendering a rāga under different circumstances, levels of pronunciation, splitting of compound words, the extent of stress on the svarās – all these would be taught by the scholar. My father had earned a name for being a good ‘vācaka.’

This is how I developed enthusiasm about good poem rendition.

Bindu Rao was also fortunate to have got a good set of students under his tutelage. One of the first among those students was Smt. Shakuntalabai Panduranga Rao, who still mesmerises audience through her kāvya-vācana.

Bindu Rao had already embraced Vānaprasthāśrama (retirement) to a large extent by the time gamaka classes were organised in Parishat. One meal a day; moreover, it came from swayam-pāka (cooking by oneself; only eating food cooked by oneself); utmost dedication towards pūjā, sandhyā-vandanā, etc. He observed complete fasting during ekādaśi ⁴and other festivities.

I asked him when he was around ninety, “At least after the recital, can’t you partake some food?”

He said, “It’s one meal per day. I prepare some rice and rasam at about ten or eleven in the morning. A bit of palya or some pickle along with it will do. Some butter-milk, and a bowl of water if I’m fatigued. My ritual is as such. In case Bhārata-vācana is scheduled for the evening, if they offer me a glass of milk, I do take some. I don’t require any additional food apart from this.”

I then thought to myself: The reason why he’s physically fit even to this day is because of his frugal eating and discipline.

Resignation

I had known Bindu Rao by the time he switched from government employment to a private job. I too was one of those people who encouraged him to do so. Sitaramacharya and I had become fast friends by then. I thought that Bindu Rao would be a great asset to Sitaramacharya’s firm and that he would be pleased by the recognition and respect that he would receive there. This arrangement indeed went well for a couple of years.

Later, a tone of discontentment began to show up often in his words. It is but common to have many executives in a private organization. An employee is expected to obey the words of multiple superiors. This isn’t easy for people like Bindu Rao. Concealing facts and making entries by ignoring evidence at the behest of someoneweren’t things that his mind would agree to.

As a consequence of that he grumbled about it for a year or a year-and-a-half and finally quit the job when a dire situation came up.

When his friends asked him, “What’s your plan to earn a living henceforth?” he recited a verse that Draupadī sang in deference of Kṛṣṇa and said, “Hari is our only resort!”

Five to six years after this, it took a lot of persuasion to make him write a letter to the government, requesting for his pension, which he was due to receive for his previous service. He wrote a letter with apathy. The government did sanction a bit of pension. It was utterly meagre; it wouldn’t suffice even for his day-to-day expenses. ⁵ Bindu Rao never disclosed his financial situation to anyone under any circumstances. Neither did he hint the slightest about it even for a single instant. To anyone who saw his happiness, his smile, and his joyfulness, it appeared like he had no insufficiency. While it was true that he faced paucity, it never seemed like he was experiencing hardships.

He had lost his wife a long time ago. His daughters were married off and stayed with their families elsewhere. Bindu Rao didn’t have a son. As his younger brothers had passed away, he was running their large family. Only now, after he has left this world, I can imagine how he might have endured such intense hardships for a prolonged period of time.

To be concluded…

This is the second part of a three-part English translation of the twentieth essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale (Volume 2) – Kalopasakaru. Reviewed by Paresh Nadig and edited by G S Raghavendra.

Footnotes

S G Bindu Rao (Part 3)

[[S G Bindu Rao (Part 3) Source: prekshaa]]

One of the stories of Sri Ramakrishna

Whenever I remember Bindu Rao, a story that Bhagavān Ramakrishna Paramahamsa often narrated comes to my mind.

A scholar approached a king with request to help. The king asked him, “What is your area of scholarship?”

The scholar replied, “I expound the Śrīmad-Bhāgavata.”

“Is that so? That is good to know! I’m curious to listen to the Bhāgavata-purāṇa. But I’m not at leisure today. If you’re here next Saturday, I will be able to sit and listen.”

The scholarwas happy. He went back to the palace the following Saturday. When he went there, the king’s attendants said, “Sir! The king won’t be able to see you today because he is tired. Please come next Saturday.”

The following Saturday and also the one after that went by the same way. The king was unable to meet the scholar for one reason or the other. On the sixth Saturday, the king made time for himself and sat prepared to listen to the purāṇa. But the scholardidn’t show up! The king was confounded by this. He sent his attendants to know what the cause was. They brought back an answer that the scholarwasn’t interested in coming. The king thought of enquiring about this by meeting him in person and went to see him at his home. The scholarwas engrossed in studying the text. The king said, “O great scholar! I’ve come here today, eager to listen to your purāṇa. Please visit my home!”

The scholar said, “My lord! I’m no longer interested in seeking your help.”

“Why is that so?”

“You told me the first day that you were interested in the Bhāgavata. As a result, I read through it a few more times with special interest, wondering about the questions that you might possibly ask! I felt a need to have satisfactory answers. So I prepared for it and patiently read through the text time and again. While doing so, I discovered new insights from the text. I’m now convinced that there’s no other fortune better than the rasāyana ⁶ of Bhāgavata. Therefore, there aren’t any expectations now. I’m immensely benefited because ofthe delay. I’m blessed!”

This happened to Bindu Rao too.

Generosity of our people

I have to talk about an embarrassing fact pertaining to the generosity of our honourable citizens. People from hundreds of towns and villages appreciated Bindu Rao and welcomed him. People from cities like Hubli, Dharwad, Gadag, Belgaum, Bangalore, Mysore, Bombay, and many other places invited him over for his Bhārata-vācana. He happily agreed and spent a few weeks conducting his Bhārata-vācana in those places. What might be the accolades he was presented with? A few might have paid for his travel expenses. Others may have offered him groceries for his swayam-pāka. A cup of milk here and there. They might have showered enough praises for his ears to be filled to the brim. Our people have forgotten the fact that praises don’t substitute food (sustenance). Like musicians and dancers, why shouldn’t a gamaki be rewarded with cash?

In this, there’s also a component of Bindu Rao’s fault. He was born a downright worldly man who saw ascendancy through government employment. He wasn’t the type who would pass the hat around ⁷ expecting generosity and donations. Thus his earning towards the end was almost zero. Yet this wasn’t known to any outsider.

ವಿನಾ ದೈನ್ಯೇನ ಜೀವನಂ

His vowed to live without dependence and he never strayed from it

It doesn’t seem like the government is well-informed about him even after the formation of unified Karnataka state. It looks like he was presented something called the Rajyotsava Award near the fag end of his life. I heard that he came to Bangalore to receive the award. I hope the government has taken care of his travel expenses. I’m not aware of anything else that was conferred upon him by the government. I also don’t know if the award contained any monetary component.

Government’s Patronage of Art

I feel I’ve to bring another fact to the notice of the general public. One of the ministers from the government that was formed after India’s independence had come to Bangalore. He also dropped by my humble home. I had then appealed to him: “Sir, the nation is now free. Karnataka will possibly be unified. I’m now considering putting forth a request before you regarding an essential work that must be undertaken for the development of our state’s culture. You must give it a thought. Two venerable individuals, each an embodiment of Kannada culture, have grown old. Vidvān [Mysore] K Vasudevacharya is ninety years old. S G Bindu Rao is now eighty. Both their voices have now waned.

“Be it music or kāvya-vācana – they’re alluring because of the richness in their voice. To this day, despite the waning voices, the elegance in singing and kāvya-vācana of these two stalwarts hasn’t lost its aura. It might not remain the same for long. Therefore, if we can document the singing methods and styles of Vasudevacharya even to a small extent, it may remain a benchmark to the future practitioners. The same goes with Bindu Rao’s kāvya-vācana. If we can record at least a few poems that he sings, it’ll remain a benchmark for kāvya-vācakas henceforth. In order for this to happen, if the government can grant a tape recorder machine to each of them, it’ll be convenient for them to record their voices into the instrument.

“Be it musicians or kāvya-vācakas – they cannot invoke their best disposition at will. Their voices aren’t rendered impeccable whenever they want it to. Therefore, if they have a tape-recorder handy, it’ll be possible for them to record their singing when they reach a conducive state of mind, i.e. whenever the fervour of a rāga attains the right temperament and at a time when their voice is rendered pure.

“Many a time when a musician sits alone in isolation, he’s engulfed with emotional intensity (ಭಾವಾವೇಶ). At ten in the night or at three in the morning, intensity of the rāga pervades them subconsciously. I have known such things happening to superlative vidvāns. Speeches occur to people like us—in politics—whenever we wish and as lengthy as we like. But that isn’t the case in matters of art. A paradigm of art must propitiate on its own. A person who cognizes it as it happens, is fortunate one.

“From what I’ve heard, a tape recorder is available for two-and-a-half to three thousand rupees. Expenses for two of those might add up to six thousand. Even if we assume miscellaneous expenses to be at four thousand; if the government can grant about ten thousand rupees, we’ll be able to eternally preserve the vocal beauty of Vasudevacharya and the charm of kāvya-vācana by Bindu Rao to the benefit of our people.”

The distinguished minister listened to this request and assured on giving it a thought.

A few days after this, he wrote a letter to me from Delhi saying that he has informed the chief minister of Mysore about my suggestion and also authorized the Chief Minister of Mysore to take this matter forward.

My request never saw fruition. The government is a colossal business. Ministers might be facing a lot of hardships, hurdles, entanglements and hindrances. Since I’m not the one to have seen governance first-hand, I shouldn’t pass strictures without knowing its difficulties.

My regret is that an unparalleled and talented artist like Bindu Rao had to depart without leaving behind even the slightest imprint of his artistic ability. The government may now grant money, honourable citizens may now raise funds. Can Bindu Rao be brought back? Can that abundantly radiant voice and grandeur of gamaka be revived? Let’s introspect.

Concluded.

This is the third part of a three-part English translation of the twentieth essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale (Volume 2) – Kalopasakaru. Reviewed by Paresh Nadig and edited by G S Raghavendra.

Footnotes