Raama Bhakti Samrajyam..

I do believe things happen in a certain way to make you act in a particular one too. Like everything is already said and done with. Maktub!!

So when I was listening to "Manjal Veyyil Maalaiile.." from Vettaiyadu vilayadu, why should I be prompted to search for sudha raghunathan(whom i incidentally Hate).. I was reading a clip about her and then suddenly thought of O.S.Arun. and there I was suddenly browzing through MIO's collection of OSA. Nothing very interesting caught my until.."Raama Bhakti." Could this be the song that I grew up listening too?

Now piqued and full of interest I clicked the link to be appointed and disappointed but transported to my childhood.

As a kid of 7, I used to go to my thatha's house at 17 North Tank square street, Triplicane to spend my vacations at. My house being 3 streets away. The setting would be awesome. Backdrop of Parthasarathy Perumal Kovil, Beach and in front of the house Theppa Kolam!!!

I used to love sitting on the doorstep with my chithis(both incidentally unmarried at that time) and listening to their talks. Mornings used to be typically at 5:00 AM. Thatha would have got up and started to sing.

He had this voice that could stun his listeners to tears. "Raama Bhakti Samrajyam.." He used to melt in the lines and decorate it with so many embellishments that used to spell bind everyone listening.

As for me. Being a kid of 7 qualifies you to be petulant to be rudely shaken out of your sleep by his stentorian voice. I used to roll and toss and turn till I finally could not sleep and run upstairs and sit quietly.

After half an hour and coffee, I would run home without telling anybody and complain to mom of the torture!! Amma used to scold me and drop me off.

But as I grew up, Bharatanatyam and patti's singing showed me the magic of the bhakti and devotion in Thyagaiar's songs. As time passed, I found myself spending less and less time at my thatha's place and he moved to korattur. Chithi married off. He wanted some peace away from the heat of the city. Patti mortally sick sometimes to make miraculous sojourns into the land of the dead and be back again smiling and caring.

At one point of time, I decided to do justice to my childhood intolerance. I wound my steps back to my maternal home. As I stood at the courtyard, a gangling teenager of 15, I was doubtful of my welcome there.

All I remembered of my thatha was the fact that he drew a knife through the carrom board when we dared to play at 10:00 PM. I had been pretty foul mouthed(for a 10 year old). After five years...

Patti literally ran out. "Hamsa, va va va va...".

Next day dawn. I was up by 4:30 am. Waiting for Thatha to start. But he did not get up till 6:00 and did not sing till I expressly asked him to. Smiled and said," Unga amma solli eruka. Nee epdi athukku poi kathuvennu"..

Blushed and bent down. He cleared his throat ans started, "Raama Bhakti Samrajyam.." Aha! The next 15 minutes were mesmerical. I was singing with him at times. At others wondering.

This went over an hour with he singing his favorite Thyagarajar krithis. One after the other.

Mama, Mami, Chinna mama, Sriman and patti all gathered around us and stood listening to thatha. It had been so long since he sang for so long. We were in tears by the time he ended.

"Throat not allright. shall continue in the evening."..

Evening 4:00... We resumed. Me just shaking my head. Thatha in his elemental music.

This ritual continued for the seven days. It was like living under the same roof under Thyagarajar, AKV, MSD, and Swati Thirunal.

I was lucky to revisit this atleast once in a trimester. I can only speak about it now for he no longer sings. Since patti's passing away, his voice and morale went down drastically. He clears his throat to sing but no longer the life in his music, his voice falters and dies down to a feeble remonstration about the cold these days.

I close my eyes and cry. I remember those golden days I had listening to him clearing his throat and wondering which raaga it was.

Once my mama thatha, his brother, a good singer himself, told of the expedition these two had made. They lived in karaikudi and took the bus to where SSI was living to ask him if he would teach music to them. SSI surprised (and a bit shocked at their guts) at their interest had referred them to another musician and advised them to start off with him and join him in Madras after their initial training was over.

Family poverty and duty again stood in the way of progress and their dreams were shunted. Their sister, my father's mother was around 6 at that time. When she started singing, people used to think that it was MSS singing.

I am NOT being proud or speaking in overly terms. If they had been my next door neighbours, I would have stood in awe before them.

Today I stand with my head bowed down. For I did not inherit the musical legacy of my thatha and patti. I can only listen. I dont sing for the fear of abusing the feeling and pathos in the song.

As I go to a kutcheri in madras or elsewhere, listen to some awesome bit of music, I cry. Languages or meanings mean nothing to me. It is the underlying devotion and the bhakti, the love, the feeling in the voice that gets to me.

Not the popularity of the singer, the perfectness of the swaras and handling : But the bhavam the depth that is exhibited. I listen for God. Whom I dont discern elsewhere.

Raama.. Needayaradha? Will not deign to be merciful to me? You who saved the elephant and granted him moksha..

Raama. Raama..Raama..