Another Diwali has come to pass. With lights, colour and the rest, although a bit subdued in some parts with the American President’s visit! It’s a wonderful festival to be around, with a warm ambience that lights you up with inner radiance, despite the noise. Many other things also remind me of this festival. It is this entire collection of music notations that I have, that were born out of many Diwalis of the past. They rest in my personal music library, wizened and yellowed with time, with the smell of bygone days. I simply love looking through them, even if merely to relish their touch. These are songs of great composers of Carnatic music. They used to appear in the Diwali special editions of Tamil magazines, which my mother Padma, zealously collected, safeguarded and bound into volumes. Thus I have some precious kritis of Mysore
Vasudevachar, several volumes of Swati Tirunal, Dikshitar and others as well as a Ramanatakam. Many of these have been notated by the legendary Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer. And then there are those songs that have appeared in non-Diwali editions too. What a great way to reach homes indeed and to keep Carnatic music alive and close to everyday life! My grandmother never really learnt music but enjoyed it and would take pleasure in deciphering these notations and singing them. I am sure there were many such enchanted music loving readers. I wonder if these magazines still carry Carnatic songs with notation et al. I wouldn’t be surprised if they stopped since long. It would be but a reflection of inevitable change in society.
I wasn’t home this Navaratri and Vijayadasami, as I was away travelling in faraway Europe. The special flavour of this day came to my mind more than strongly. It signified one more year of art, one more year of aesthetic perception, another year of learning. Memories of earlier years were rich. The flowers, the fruits, the traditional vettala pakku , the guru dakshina. The gaiety was infectious. The joy resided in this simple exercice that brought guru and shishya together in a common inexplicably beautiful synergy.
On this occasion, I feel urged to pay homage to my gurus who crafted my artistic instincts. First and foremost my mother Padma. Since I was little I have been listening to her lovely voice singing while doing her daily chores, and taking time to sit down for practise in the middle of chaotic, busy days. I remember her Brovabarama, her moving Rama Ikanannu, Tyagesam, Kanta Tava and many other melodious gems. While she gently and deftly held the reins to guide me on, she also took on my stupid stubborn ways and adolescent foolishness with overwhelming kindness. When I forgot the lyrics during a concert, I blamed her. When I did not get the complexities right, it was her fault. When the concert clothes were crushed, she was responsible. When the tambura strings needed to be changed, I sought her help. When I did well, I never thanked her.
But she conquered my world in her own soft way. She did for me what she could not and did not do for herself. She had faith in me when others didn’t. When she disappeared twenty odd years back, I felt I would never be able to sing again. Her reassuring presence behind me on stage would never be felt again. How would I ever manage? But life does not give you much option; I carried on. The manuscripts she worked with, which bear the lovely handwriting of her guru Yagneshwara Bhagavatar still hold good for me. My mother never forgot her maverick guru and his beautiful music. She handed over the legacy to me.
Many rare songs, hidden treasures lie within, which I discover and rediscover with the fondest memories and utmost wonder for a man who spun off those notations while just humming away the songs.
Balamani whom I know since childhood is a genre apart as a teacher. The music is rich, unpolluted and uncompromising. Groomed by veterans like Musiri and Govinda Rao, Balamani’s virtuosity as a teacher has held ground for decades. Since her days as a young teacher in the Bharatiya music school, to her transformation into a celebrated guru, Balamani has remain unchanged.
I owe to her the complexities of pallavi singing, the nuances of ‘close cousin’ ragas and paathanthara purity. Her teaching capacities overshadowed her concert potential and Balamani tirelessly worked towards perfecting the art of transmitting Carnatic music.
Keeping pace with time, evolving from handwritten copies of notations, to photocopies to printed songs, to notations in English script, Balamani has a way of her own, from the confines of her home. To these gurus and their painstaking labour, I owe my art, entirely.

Dr Vasumathi Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. She can be contacted on vasu@vasumathi.net