Tireless Striving and Innate Genius (

Tireless Striving and Innate Genius (Part 1)

[[Tireless Striving and Innate Genius (Part 1) Source: prekshaa]]

Vīṇā Sheshanna (1852–1926) and Tirukkodikaval Krishna Iyer (1857–1913) were great sādhakas (hard-workers, musicians who practiced a great deal), but sādhanā (diligent practice) is not the ultimate in music. It is neither the mother of music, not even in part. 1 Music—just like poetry—has its origins in pratibhā (talent, creativity, genius) and kalpanā pratibhā (creative imagination). This is akin to Tvaṣṭṛ, the creator, who gives shape and characteristics to all objects of the world, as described in the Vedas. Similarly, pratibhā is the power that gives shape and characteristics to the musical ingredients, i.e. musical notes. This good fortune is obtained with the blessings of the divine or as a result of the good deeds done in the previous birth or by a combination of both. Of course, sādhanā (rigorous practice) should be undertaken as a tapas (penance, meditation, vow) in order to obtain the fruit of this good fortune.

The movement of the ladle in the vessel is the prerequisite penance a cook has to undertake in order to savour the good fortune of the pāyasa 2.

Pratibhā is the mental power that creates a heart-touching sanniveśa (experience; lit. ‘circumstance’ or ‘situation’). A poet, sculptor, artist, or a singer would first establish in his mind a strong emotional sandarbha (situation, circumstance, context). This should evoke a feeling of enjoyment, discomfort, enthusiasm, or fear in the hearts of the common man. Art is that which presents how a man behaves in such emotionally rich situations and thereby revealing the individual’s inner world. A great epic, or a great sculpture, or a great piece of music will be like a mirror to our inner soul. There we experience both extremes of our behaviour.

Svānubhava (Personal Experience)

We earlier said that sādhanā and pratibhā always go hand in hand. But there is another aspect above these that supports them both. This third aspect is svānubhava, one’s personal experience. Once the singer feels this personal experience, only then can he further create the same experience for others through his music. All arts comprise a transfer of a heart-felt experience to others. 3 To recreate that special experience felt by one’s heart for the sake of others is Art of Poetry. To make another individual experience the beauty seen in one’s mind is Art of Painting. To make another individual feel the beauty experienced by one’s heart is the Art of Singing.

For all real art, this is the touchstone. First, we should experience in our heart something that we love and desire. Then that experience should be transferred to another’s heart. In this process, the singer should realize the standard of his own singing within himself, in the depths of his heart. If his music is pleasing to himself, then it can please others. This holds good for every student of art. Whoever the artist may be – author, sculptor, actor, or singer – an honest critique of his creation lies within him. Thus, his own heart is the origin for realizing the most interesting aspects of his work. Poetry takes birth in the heart’s desires and Art comes from its emotional conflict and turmoil.

Music should create a sense of positive disruption in our mind. Else it is not music, just sound. It should evoke a feeling of sorrow, compassion, love, happiness, anger, or vigour in the hearts of connoisseurs, creating lovely chaos. Music is the name given to that melodic flood, which can create this emotional turbulence. Hence we can say that music originates from the heart. Both the singer and the connoisseur are witnesses to this.

Tapassādhanā (Determined Toil)

It is through years of rigorous effort and sustained hard work that an artist attains creative imagination. It is like the day, after waiting for a long period of time, when a raw mango ripens fully, with the bitterness transformed into mature sweetness, resulting in a fruit with a rich taste. In the same way, hidden behind the most interesting aspects of music will be years of practice leading to maturity. Sheshanna’s musical talent had attained such maturity – this has been observed many a time by those who were close to him.

In one of his concerts in Mysore at the Vasanta Mahal, Sheshanna was playing Rāga Kalyani. After playing the rāga [ālāpanā] for a while, he lifted the fingerboard of the vīṇā, placed his ears in close proximity to the strings, and said to himself with a soft smile on his face, “It comes whenever it wants, and not when invoked!” Because it was a small gathering, we could easily hear his words.

On another occasion, a similar thing happened in Bangalore Ananta Shastri’s room. I’m aware of many such instances. What does it mean? That Art only gets better (with sādhanā). Sheshanna’s artistic talent kept growing every day until the very end. It never became stagnant with the thought ‘that’s enough!’ and never lost enthusiasm.

Characteristics of a Living Art

This sort of constant development is the characteristic of a living art. It can be compared to the growth of a tree. The tree is aged but its buds and tendrils are young. Day after day one sees new buds blossoming out of this old tree. It is only when this happens will it be established that there is life essence in the tree. The same has been described by the poet [Māgha]:

kṣaṇe kṣaṇe yannavatāmupaiti
tadeva bhāvaṃ ramaṇīyatāyāḥ 4

This is lāvaṇya (elegance). Every second it is new. This should take a fresh form every time – just like the glitter of the diamond earring of a beautiful girl. Every time a maiden closes and opens her eyes, a different beauty is seen. Such a thing is talent. It is the essence of music.

As I’ve said earlier, it is assumed that sādhanā—rigorous practice—is essential for this. Sādhanā is indeed tapas. This is crystal clear when we see the life of Tirukkodikaval Krishna Iyer. For the sādhaka, while he is undergoing sādhanā, as a result of his tireless efforts, new heartfelt feelings will blossom. Attuned to the new feelings, new rāgas and passages will emerge.

To be concluded…

This is the first part of a two-part English translation of the twenty-third essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale (Volume 2) – Kalopasakaru. Thanks to Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh for his review. Edited by Hari Ravikumar.

Footnotes

Tireless Striving and Innate Genius (Part 2)

[[Tireless Striving and Innate Genius (Part 2) Source: prekshaa]]

As I’ve said earlier, it is assumed that sādhanā—rigorous practice—is essential for this. Sādhanā is indeed tapas. This is crystal clear when we see the life of Tirukkodikaval Krishna Iyer. For the sādhaka, while he is undergoing sādhanā, as a result of his tireless efforts, new heartfelt feelings will blossom. Attuned to the new feelings, new rāgas and passages will emerge.

Imitation and Creation

Now, what does this prove? Our elders had a strong faith in sādhanā. There are two aspects to this sādhanā: one is imitation and the other is original creation. 5 What we see these days is that more and more effort is going towards imitation. Attempts towards original creation have reduced. 6 Without original creation, music will become stale. It becomes like a broken record, playing the same thing time and again. When one has a rich voice and an ensemble of capable accompanists, a music that leans towards imitation will [also] sound good. Indeed, this form of imitation music is not to be degraded. If one has to consciously enjoy the svārasya (essence, richly emotional aspect) of the superior form of music 7, this secondary form of music 8 prepares one for it. It is only when the ears attain refinement upon listening to this [imitative] form of music that they will develop a taste for the essence of kalpanā saṅgītā (creative music, improvised music).

The Specialty of the Music of Yore

These days, we see the emergence of a type of music that is of a lower degree compared to the aforementioned two types [i.e. imitation and original]. Much of the music that plays on gramophones 9 these days lacks any sort of sādhanā; and what to say of creative imagination, which is completely missing! One can say that a distorted imagination is in excess.

Nāda-mādhurya (melodic beauty) was the essential aspect of the music of the olden days. These days, cleverness in manipulating tāḻa (rhythmic cycle) has become the mainstay of music. The artist of yesteryears gave prominence to rāga ālāpanā 10. They would take up majestic rāgas like Todi, Bhairavi, or Shankarabharana and sing them elaborately, with a detailed ālāpanā. It was common to present a rāga in the viḻamba-laya (slow tempo) and madhya-laya (medium tempo). After a detailed ālāpanā in a certain rāga, they would sing the kṛti 11 in two or three minutes and finish their rendition of it. It was not the tradition then to sing kalpana-svaras 12 after each line. The rāga’s flirtatious movement, its delightful play, and its myriad aspects of beauty should fill the ears of the connoisseur completely and then engulf his mind, drowning him in the rāga. It should possess one’s ear for a week or ten days and irrespective of where one goes, it should haunt him.

Of late, ālāpanā is fading away while svara-kalpanā is increasing. In addition, counting the beats of the tāḻa is getting louder. 13 And as for the musical ensembles that come from the Southern part of the country, music has become synonymous with the garish beats of the ḍhol 14. If the nāgasvara 15 artist plays for a couple of minutes, the percussionist continues beating the ḍhol for ten minutes. And once this percussionist is overcome by fatigue owing to continuous beating of the drum, another drummer takes over and starts showing his hammering skills and rhythmifies the environment completely! Doubtless, the art of percussion is great. It has a strong base in śāstra (traditional treatises) and in minute calculations. 16 The art of percussion also requires several years of study and rigorous practice. Those who wish to independently enjoy the beauty of rhythm will find a lot of opportunity in the art of percussion. But for the typical connoisseur and music lover, it holds little attraction. Among the six tastes, salt is also important:

ṣaṇṇāṃ rasānāṃ lavaṇaṃ pradhānam

But who enjoys drinking salt water? And how much of it can they drink?

To delineate the beauty of music and describe it is next to impossible. A particular song gets value because of two elements: i. The refinement and competence of the singer and ii. The sensitivity and connoisseurship of the listener. 17 Both these skills must be constantly improving. I have already suggested that growth and development (in music, or any classical art) is the never-fading freshness (kept new by creativity). Just like the musician, if the listener too develops greater sensitivity by constantly sharpening his skills, it is my belief that good music will survive. The music thereby spontaneously gives rise to new buds, new blossoms, and constantly grows, thus giving immense comfort to the people’s souls – this is my firm belief.

nakhamukha mukharita vīṇā-
nādarasāsvāda navanavollāsam॥
…
vīṇāvādana velā
kampitaśirasaṃ namāmi mātaṅgīm॥ 18

Concluded

This is the second part of a two-part English translation of the twenty-third essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale (Volume 2) – Kalopasakaru. Thanks to Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh for his review. Edited by Hari Ravikumar.

Footnotes

  1. The original has ‘mātṛkā,’ which can mean ‘mother,’ ‘divine mother’, ‘maternal,’ ‘origin,’ etc. and ‘mātṛkāṃśa’ is a part or aspect (aṃśa) of it. DVG suggests that the source of great music lies not in tremendous practice. ↩︎

  2. A type of dessert prepared by mixing rice with sweetened milk. ↩︎

  3. In other words, any art requires the artiste to convey a certain emotion to the consumer of the art. ↩︎

  4. Another version of this line is ‘tadeva rūpam ramaṇīyatāyāḥ.’ ↩︎

  5. Singing a well-known song without any variations and remaining true to the original is here referred to as ‘imitation’ music. Singing a well-known song by introducing melodic and/or rhythmic variations in addition to creating new musical phrases spontaneously as a complementary addition to the song is here referred to as ‘original creation.’ Much of Indian classical music is of the latter type, at least in its ideal conception. ↩︎

  6. Indian classical music, particularly Carnatic music, has a lot of compositions; even while singing the pre-composed songs, one can bring in variations and spontaneous embellishments. In addition, sections such as rāga ālāpanā, tānam, svara-kalpanā, and neraval are entirely improvised on the spot. These require great creativity. DVG speaks about the trend of younger musicians moving away from improvised music. ↩︎

  7. The creative type. ↩︎

  8. The imitative type. ↩︎

  9. Possibly a reference to film music or semi-classical music. ↩︎

  10. Free-style improvisation of the melodic idea without any rhythmic restrictions. ↩︎

  11. A type of musical form in Carnatic music; typically it has three sections – Pallavi, Anupallavi, and Caraṇa. ↩︎

  12. Improvisation using notes, but within the rhythmic framework of the tāḻa. ↩︎

  13. In Carnatic music, the singer typically counts the rhythmic cycle of the composition using his hands – by means of finger counts, clapping the hand, etc. It helps him stay on the beat. DVG says that this act of counting the beats had become more pronounced and ostentatious in the younger singers of his time. ↩︎

  14. Also called tavil; it a form of drum where one side has a soft skin and is played with a drum-stick; the other side has a thick skin and is played with the fingers. ↩︎

  15. Also called nādasvaram; it is a double reed wind instrument. ↩︎

  16. In other words, it is rooted in theory and practice. ↩︎

  17. In both cases, DVG uses the term ‘saṃskāra-yogyate’ – saṃskāra means ‘refinement,’ ‘culture,’ etc. and yogyate means ‘competence,’ ‘skill,’ etc. ↩︎

  18. Lines in praise of the delight of listening to the vīṇā; from Mysore Vasudevacharya’s rāgamālikā kṛti ‘Oṃkāra pañjara.’ ↩︎