She repeatedly advocated the primacy of the musical sound, the swara, vast expanse that inhabits it and which the musician must appropriate. It was disruptive. It shattered the remarkable silence and enchanting sounds of nature.Traditional music has taken a beating. The music of nature is without parallel and I have often written about it. Noise for the neighbours? Perhaps a school or a hospital around? I see several schools and hospitals sanctioned in places where they ought not to be and functioning in dismal conditions. I will reserve my opinion on this particular board of ban and the conditions that govern it.The nadaswaram is a fascinating instrument. Its richness of sound is without compare, and it seems to be made for Carnatic music, revelling in its gamakas, its inflections, with the nuances embedded in this music. Then only the primal sound would prevail. Leaving the unknown variables apart, I found the board in itself a bit saddening. She can be contacted on vasu@vasumathi. The entire neighbourhood needs to tremble and that is the sign that we are celebrating.I have grown up watching and listening to the nadaswaram, it signified many things — temple rituals, celebrations, concerts. How the nadaswaram artiste’s cheeks would puff up with air and how the wind would travel into the pipe and come out in the form of beautiful music! This visual appeal was priceless.
Televisions with anchors and participants all screeching one over the other, compete with ear-piercing film music on loudspeakers and heart-stopping beats well beyond the no-noise hour. In larger events, noise even has the sanction of public sentiment.A fellow musician shared a picture of the following hoarding — “Live Nadaswaram not allowed”.I would love to put up a thousand such boards around the city where I live, where most do not realise the difference between noise, silence and intrusion or have sadly resigned themselves to the irreversible fate of living with it. And often force our gods to listen to frivolous numbers with pedestrian lyrics. True, the volume of the tavil drum that accompanies live nadaswaram can be enormous for small spaces. Why do we not put up boards saying “drums not allowed on this street”, “loudspeakers banned here”, “only silent Ganpati immersions permitted here”, “no neta victory marches here with music”.Recently, one such wonderful experience was rudely snipped by the repulsive phenomenon called “rain dance”, a form of urban celebration usually in non-urban surroundings. It perhaps might have been well justified for several reasons. However, a board is a law and it sends home a point.net.When you enter temples in South India, or even weddings and other auspicious events, the sound of the nadaswaram envelops the entire atmosphere.
Going by such a yardstick, there are a lot of things that need to go and with immediate effect. I find such vital spaces in the heart of nature. I wish nature could put up its own ban.One can achieve such an affinity in spaces that enchant, sounds that speak even in silence. But, there could have been negotiations on this. I would remain perplexed as a child, watching with wonder how the pipe brought out such deep, august sound. It is displayed in a street in the heart of Chennai. Such intimacy requires a profound communion with music like the one Amonkar enjoyed. When we celebrate festivals, we anchor bolts need loudspeakers to convince ourselves of our collective religious fervour. Vehicles honk in frenzy in all the mayhem.How blissful would the world be!Dr Vasumath Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. How do you define the nadam or the musical sound of this grand instrument? Grandiose, awe-inspiring, rooted.I live with noise all day long. So fine were the nuances of the instrument that singers craved to emulate them.The late Kishori Amonkar leaves behind indelible music and many precious thoughts.Now, coming to the above-mentioned board, the obvious question that arises is “but why”?Various interpretations and deductions can be proposed. That is the way modern India portrays itself vis-à-vis celebration. It is an old adage in Carnatic music circles that the voice must imitate the inflections of the nadaswaram. And if that were to happen, the loud, noisy, unaesthetic would be banished in one sweep. I would also admire the mobility of the nadaswaram artistes, as they led the temple processions, along with their tavil counterparts, who, their instrument hung around the neck, were the very epitome of grace and confidence. So do many other Indians
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