When master knew best ... 



That classic breed of veshti-clad paattu vadhiyars are now a thing of the past. GOWRI RAMNARAYAN recollects the days when music teachers ruled the roost. 

TODAY, YOU can't take an evening walk down any residential block in the city without being assaulted by blasts from every side. Ceaseless rhetoric overflows from the first home, croons and beats explode from another, shots and bangs proclaim action from a third, sobs and screeches spill from the soap opera round the corner...Their only common feature? The deafening volume. 

"Oh for the peace and quiet of the good ol' days!" sighed my strolling companion. But had these streets ever been mute, even when swinging Chennai was sleepy Madras? Rewind to the Fifties, and what do you get? 

The avenues and lanes of yester pakkams and purams had no idiot box, but they did have their own "boxes" of voice, string, wood and hide. "Minakshisundaramier or Muthkumarachetty Street had its original soundtrack. You first roller coastered on Mayamalavagaulai (sarigama), scampered across Malahari ("Sri gananatha"), backtracked to Mohanam in two speeds of wobbling sruti and tala (Ninnukori), tripped into Khamas (Sambasivayanave) and hit Hamsadhwani (Vinayaka) in a side alley. Naturally, the choosing of the "paattu vadiyar" was serious business. Family members nearly came to blows over candidates from the Ariyakudi or Semmangudi schools. Some preferred GNB glitz while Musiri had his devotees. The visiting 'paattu vadiyars' had their own ways of doing things. Not for them the clinical, timebound classes of present day schools or colleges, or at the homes of the musicians themselves. They never came on time, nor were the students always ready for them. Grandmother may be braiding the child's hair in intricate vanki pinnal, with flowers in between. The boy might be struggling with his homework. The teacher waited without thought of complaint, humming or strumming on the tambura, or reading Anandavikatan and Kalki till the child was ready for tuition. Classes could stretch far beyond the hour, depending on the day's mood. 

Vadhiyars had their idiosyncracies. Some chattered between songs, narrating tales old and new. "Can you imagine how Tyagaraja must have felt when, bathing in the Cauvery, he stumbled upon his lost idols of Rama and Sita! His joy burst out in this song...Now repeat after me...Kanu-kontineee..." Others had their own formulae for initiation. "Raga Bilahari is an audava sampurna bhashanga raga taking the nishada as an anya swara. Not a raga for upper sthayi sancharas. Now repeat after me...Kanu- kontineee..." A vadhiyar of advanced age found it impossible to demonstrate in the upper register. Then out came his little cylindrical metal snuffbox. Placing the box at various points on the tambura string, he would pluck it in quick succession. Hey presto! The sangati became crystal clear! With the teaching of music increasingly geared to a formal regimen, the old breed has become obsolete. However, now and then, here and there, you do find a vadhiyar or two, growling his way on two wheelers through the lanes of Chennai, to pupils as recalcitrant as in the past. 

Not that there were - and are - no willing sishyas. In fact, I'd like to end with such an exception. A young budding cricketer could not indulge in his taste for music due to his busy training schedule. Nor did his parents take his music seriously. One day, on his early return from practice, the boy was arrested by the live music from a flat close by. He walked into that class, waited till it was over, and dragged the teacher home. The stunned parents had no option but to engage the paattu vadhiyar. 

The classes differ in detail, but not the spirit of the past. The teacher is dressed in shirt and trousers, the boy sits on a chair. After hours at the nets, he can't manage padmasana on the mat. The vadhiyar is enthusiastic, who knows , he may be drilling a future Test cap! Listen to him explaining the need for regular voice training ... "Can you hold a running catch at midwicket or long on without regular fielding practice? The same way, you can't reach the upper gandhara without daily sadhakam..."