Each time I went to Chennai, I would visit T.S.Parthasarathy. I would lose my way each time and call him for directions. “Just come upto the Nandi Statue”, he would say. Then on, it was easy to reach his home.

His familiar face would peer from the window side and the open doors of his home would beckon one in. T.S. Parthasarathy’s living room was literally the room he lived in for most of the day.
It was a cove of books. One could hardly see the wall, as there were only books on all sides. He would deftly manoeuvre himself on his wheel chair and pull out the desired tome wherever it was. TSP Mama as he was popularly known to everyone lived, within and amidst his books.
When I came in contact with TSP years back, he was already past his prime. However, he retained his youthful vigour in mind and thought. His profound knowledge coupled with his humanistic outlook made him dear to many a musician and a dancer. TSP served as a high level government servant while being a scholar and a musicologist parallelly. He served as secretary for long years in the Chennai fortress of music and dance, the Music Academy.
He authored many books and scholarly articles and was involved with universities and academic bodies. He was polyglot and was fluent in all languages of the South, Hindi, Bengali and Sanskrit. What was astounding with TSP was his erudition. He seemed to know everything. One just had to ask about a vaggeyakara, a kriti, a raga and TSP had the answer ready. He
would whip it up with written proof — a book from his fond home library. It took him just seconds to do this.
In his large collection of books, he knew exactly which book was placed where.
“Just reach up, it’s the third one on the row behind,” he would say. The directions were perfect and once the book was in his hand, he knew exactly which page he was looking for. I never ceased to be swept off my feet by TSP’s prowess. Even magazines, little booklets carrying precious information were carefully stored by him for use.
He had a steady stream of disciples, which is a small wonder. They came to him for all sorts of information and TSP conjured it up like a magician within minutes. I was no exception to this. I have called him up umpteen times, knowing he would tell me the right reference, put me on the right track, provide me some searching thoughts.
When I was working on women composers and their contribution, TSP was thrilled with the idea. I would spend hours discussing with him and always came away richer. All the while, obliging artistes of different calibre, TSP never lost the freshness in his approach to knowledge nor his patience.
He would answer the silliest of questions with the gentlest of smiles. He would painstakingly take notes in his small rounded hand that ran smoothly over the pages without an error. He worked hard for others. He worked diligently with the good old typewriter on his desk that served him faithfully till the end.
Some years back, during one of my visits, I found him typing. It’s for the introduction of a student’s PhD, he told me. I was annoyed that he should be doing what was the student’s work, but being the generous guru that he was, he confided that the student could not progress beyond a point, that her writing skills were far from perfect. I do not know how many pages TSP wrote out for her, but they must surely have been in stark difference against the rest!
He would also type and send me reading material whenever he felt like sharing some research work. Whether it was anything as popular as the Ramanatakam or obscure as the ancient Kuruntokai, TSP knew it all.
How he acquired so much knowledge and how he read and maintained all this in his mind’s library is baffling. He defied age at 90 to be ever active and following a strong regimen, which included preparing the nebulizer for his wife.
October 13 is TSP Mama’s fourth death anniversary. Everyone knows no one lives forever. TSP was 92 when he passed away, yet his demise saddened many, left so many with a
sense of void, lovers of knowledge and art deprived of a patron saint. His old style house is no more I am told.
What befell his beloved library, I do not know. In any case, I know that if ever I ring up that number again, I will never again hear TSP Mama’s warm voice that unfailingly recognised my tone and the enthusiastic ‘Sollu ma !’. The music and dance world needs more TSPs, but they do not happen everyday and unfortunately the sun sets on them too. That’s the way of the world.
Dr Vasumathi Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. She can be contacted on vasu@vasumathi.net