1. Tyagaraja Life And Lyrics - William J Jackson 1991 OUP

Tyāgarāja

Life and Lyrics

Tyāgarāja

Life and Lyrics

WILLIAM J. JACKSON

MADRAS

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

DELHI BOMBAY CALCUTTA

1991

Oxford University Press, Walton Street, Oxford OX2 6DP

New York Toronto

Delhi Bombay Calcutta Madras Karachi

Petaling Jaya Singapore Hong Kong Tokyo

Nairobi Dar es Salaam

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and associates in

Berlin Ibadan

Oxford University Press 1991

SBN 0 19 562812 8

Typeset and printed by

All India Press, Kennedy Nagar, Pondicherry 605 001

and published by S.K. Mookerjee, Oxford University Press,

219 Anna Salai, Madras 600 006

For Marcia

without whose love, energy and insight

I could never be a specialist in wondering

Your pain shall be a music in your string

And fill the mouths of heaven with your tongue.

Your pain shall not unmilk you of the food

That drops to make a music in your blood.

Dylan Thomas

PREFACE

To discern the homes of the seven notes in the midst of the chaotic uproar is liberation.

Tyāgarāja, Svara rāga sudhārāsa

‘Wherever I go in South India I hear the songs of Saint Tyāgarāja being sung,’ Mahatma Gandhi noted during one of his tours. ‘There is little doubt that this devotee of Rām has captured the religious imagination of Madrasis* with his sweet song.’ Today, Tyāgarāja is still a prominent presence, his works enjoy great popularity and his name is often mentioned in the company of such earlier singers on the path of bhakti or loving devotion as Jayadeva, Pōtana, Purandaradāsa, Bhadrācala Rāmadās, Caitanya, Tulsīdās, Sūrdās and Mīrābai. This book is an attempt to suggest how and why Tyāgarāja rose to a position of such importance.

Tyāgarāja, literally ‘the king of renunciation’ or ‘relinquishment’s ruler,’ a namesake of the Hindu deity Śiva, is South India’s most celebrated musician-saint and has dominated the Karnātaka music system for well over a century His masterpieces, ranging from simple songs to elaborate works which only professional musicians can perform, are ubiquitous in the south. His songs are especially well-loved in Tamil Nadu, the seat of classical South Indian music scholarship and performance, even though the lyrics are in Telugu, the language of Andhra Pradesh which is to the north of Tamil country. At weddings, in temples, in concerts, at festivals, over the radio, in the streets as well as in ‘every home south of the Vindhyas,’ where his songs are sung, Tyāgarāja’s voice lives on. His portrait is often displayed in places where devotion is offered and music perforined. Usually, he is pictured as a bare-chested white-bearded old man wearing a red turban and bandāsa clothing, sitting on the floor, either singing or lost in a trance of loving devotion to Lord Rāma. (For an

• In this context the term ‘Madrasi’ refers to the inhabitants of the then Madras Presidency, which in Gandhi’s time covered much of South India

VIII

PREFACE

introduction to the Hindu tradition of bhakti see the Afterword to

A.K. Ramanujan's Hymns for the Drowning ) Tyāgarāja's life is told by

the older generation to the younger, and it has been written in many

forms and languages—in Tamil, Telugu, Sanskrit, and English; it has

been enacted in plays, full-length films, and in harikathā perfor-

mances, which are live one-actor dramatic monologues of religious

stories spiced with snatches of songs. His life is remembered as

exemplary, and hearing about it is one way successive generations of

Hindus become attuned to traditional values.

As a historian of religion conducting research in Madras and

Thanjavur District, I grew to appreciate the many meanings to be

found in Tyāgarāja's saintly life and began to glimpse what he has

come to represent in the South Indian consciousness. Hearing a

variety of versions of his story, one also begins to ask questions about

historical evidence, and to wonder what a comparison with other

musician-saints' lives would reveal While Indian scholars such as V.

Raghavan, P. Sambamoorthy, and S.Y. Krishnaswamy have made

valuable studies of Tyāgarāja's life, their work has not drawn on

scholarship done in the past twenty years, nor have they considered

Tyāgarāja's biography in terms of comparative patterns.

In the first chapter of this book I have tried to further our

understanding of Tyāgarāja's life and show how a study of the

development of stories about him throws light on the 'canonization'

process in India, illustrating hory a singer-saint's life comes to be

celebrated in archetypal forms.

In the second chapter I have sought to locate Tyāgarāja in his time

and geographical region, in his community and cultural continuum.

During Tyāgarāja's lifetime, Maratha kings ruled Thanjavur and the

Kaveri delta was convulsed by war, with Muslims and the British

contending for territory. With this background in mind, I seek to

understand Tyāgarāja's culturally creative role in this transitional

period and to appreciate his genius by examining his roots and

exploring his works in part as responses to the times.

Historical information about Tyāgarāja's region and community is

not easy to gather. The best historians of South India—scholars such

as Nilakanta Sastri and Burton Stein—do not cover the Maratha rule

of Thanjavur. Gazetteers, District Manuals, and historical essays by

turn-of-the-century Indian writers such as Lakshmana Pillai offer

patches of information and interpretations which, taken together, may

form a 'crazy quilt' rather than a unified mosaic. Books, such as The

Maratha Rajas of Tanjore by K.R. Subramanian, Maratha Rule in the

Carnatic by C.K. Srinivasan, The Culture and History of the Tamils by

K.A. Nilakanta Sastri, and David Ludden's Peasant History in South

India, are useful general sources, but offer little by way of information

about a life such as Tyāgarāja's. Hyder Ali, the Muslim general-

turned-ruler, and his son Tipu Sultan, who were both active in

South India during Tyāgarāja's lifetime, cause further bewilder-

ment to one reconstructing the era. How did the clashes among

Muslim, Hindu, and European forces affect Tyāgarāja, a brahmin

who spent his lifetime composing sacred songs? Some historians of

the present century have painted simplistic pictures of Hindu,

Muslim and European forces in complete antagonism to each other.

Other historians have challenged this view, stressing areas of

contact, interplay and co-operation. I have used all sources of

evidence which I could locate from the entire spectrum, and have

tried to reflect in a balanced way this complex period during which

Tyāgarāja lived.

Tyāgarāja, in a sense, is an 'inside secret' of South India. North

Indian music played by Ali Akbar Khan and Ravi Shankar has been

exported to the West and become popular there and sitar has become

a household word Tyāgarāja's music is the pride and joy of South

India, but it is much less known beyond the Karnataka music region.

(South Indian music is known as Karnataka-style music. Sometimes

spelled 'Carnatic,' this term is derived from the region designated as

Karnataka, 'the lofty land' - the area south of the Krishna river; some

say it is derived from Karanatu-the coastal land-as opposed to

continental Hindustani regional music.) Although Tyāgarāja's bio-

logical offspring died without issue, his disciples spread hundreds of

his songs-songs which are not merely his brain-children, but his

heart-and-soul children as well-and they live on today throughout

this region. As M.S. Ramaswami Aiyar observed in 1927: 'From the

erudite expert down to the veriest tyro [rawest beginner] and from the

ruling prince down to the lowliest beggar, Thiagaraja has been in-

variably an entertaining philosopher, friend and guide' to South

Indians.

x

PREFACE

While the lyrics may be read, interpreted, translated, and quoted, it

is the music—the life-blood of Tyāgarāja’s work, which weaves the

deeper unstated background to this book. These silent pages will, I

hope, lead listeners to the original songs which still live in the

performances of South India’s master musicians, such as M.S

Subbulakshmi, Dr. Balamuralikrishna, and M.D. Ramanathan.

In Tyāgarāja's world-view, sacred song is man's saving grace.

Through song the devotee in artistic reverie mingles with the divine,

knows the highest reality, and experiences release. Without this,

according to Tyāgarāja, a person is dead weight, excess baggage

burdening the earth It is through spiritual geniuses such as Tyāgarāja

that humbler people come to realize that they too have music in their

souls.

The rāgas which are so delightful

(What mellow things melodies do)

Assuming fine shapes so enchanting

They dance with ringing tones

And their anklets go jingle-jangle

The Lord adored by the knowing

Tyāgarāja loves this music's glory

So mind be intent upon music

Dear to the Consort of Laksmī

Tyāgarāja, Śrīpaṛtya saṅgītopāsana

While the lyrics presented in this book are a fraction of Tyāgarāja’s

total output (which oral tradition insists is 24,000 songs, or kritis and

kīrtanas, to match the Vālmīki Rāmāyana's 24,000 ślokas), I am

confident that they are characteristic enough of his work to allow us to

enter his 'poetisphere,' to use a term suggested by Gaston Bachelard.

Many of Tyāgarāja's works have been translated by C. Ramanuj-

achari, though not the Naukā Caritram nor quite a few of the

divyanāma and utsava sampradāya kīrtanas. Ramanujachari's trans-

lations, published by the Ramakrishna Math with an excellent intro-

ductory thesis by V. Raghavan, are probably the most widely known,

though they are often abbreviated paraphrases giving the general gist

of the songs, at times omitting entire sections and in no way

indicating which lines are the refrain. In Tyāgarāja scholarship, as in the study of Kaverī delta nāmasiddhānta (the path of devotion to the holy names) generally, V. Raghavan was the pioneer and most thorough researcher writing in English I often cite his and C. Ramanujachari’s book because it is the one most easily available in the West and East. In it, the original texts are given in devanāgari script. Dr. C. Narayana Rao’s English translations of seventy-seven kriti lyrics are fuller renderings, although they are in a dated and regional English and have long since gone out of print. The efforts of E.N. Purushothaman and A.V.S Sarma are also appreciated by Tyāgarāja devotees, but most admit no translation can rival the simple beauty of Tyāgarāja’s original Telugu lyrics.

The most reliable texts of the lyrics in original Telugu are to be found in Narasimha T. Bhāgavatar’s collection Sadguru Tyāgarāja-svāmi Kīrtanalu, published in 1908, and Kallurī Veerabhadra Sastri’s Tyāgarāja Keertanalu, with the pundit’s commentary, published in 1948 (revised edition 1975) We can say this with certainty because the versions on palm-leaf and in notebooks kept by Tyāgarāja’s immediate disciples Venkaṭarāmana Bhāgavatar and Krishnasvāmi Bhāgavatar are available at the Saurashtra Sabha in Madurai, and they attest to the 1908 and 1948 publications’ accuracy. (It is hoped that the Sabha will one day publish its holdings and make them available to those unable to visit Madurai ) T S Parthasarathy, with whom I studied in Madras, devoted his scholarly energies to a Tamil script collection and translations into Tamil and this excellent and reliable work is used by many Tamilians.

Except for a few Sanskrit pieces, all of Tyāgarāja’s lyrics are in Telugu, a language with inherent musicality. Soft, smooth, flowing vowel word-endings give this language a feminine sweetness. Imagine a melodious language with very few abrupt endings, composed of sounds like bangāru (golden one), puvvulu (flowers), tsāla bagundi (it is very good), and nēnu saṅgītam vinnānu (I heard the music) The very word Telugu has often been traced to tene and agu, meaning ‘sweet like honey,’ though some linguists argue that the origin is from words meaning ‘land situated amidst three lingams’ or ‘language of the south’. Listening in 1971 to Śrī Sathya Sai Baba, a great speaker of Telugu, inspired me to study this mellisonant tongue. Just as Italian has been favoured for librettos and is used for musical terminology by composers, Telugu, of all the South Indian languages, has been chosen

by lyricists and musicologists of the south. Tyāgarāja wrote in a spoken

form of Telugu which had already been used in the art of pada song

composers, such as Kṣetrayya (seventeenth century), and kīrtana

praise lyricists, such as Annamācārya (fifteenth century) and

Bhadrācala Rāmadās (seventeenth century).

Tyāgarāja was a vāggeyakāra, a ‘poet-composer’, blending words

and music inseparably together into song. To render into English a

fixed (yet fluid when performed) Telugu configuration, seizing

graceful parallels largely true to the original using very few words in

English is challenging. The rhythm of poetry must be pleasing; the

words must have some resonance in the imagination, some asso-

ciational energies and evocative power. In short, translated lyrics must

have some music. I have tried to strike a balanced note, both faithful

and alive, in these translations. I tend to like the freedom of drawing

from the entire range of the English language in all its polyglottal

richness—English written, sung, spoken, and whispered.

Translating a text is like building a new home for a family of ideas to

inhabit. One must not underestimate their needs or cramp them, nor

extend their habitation unnecessarily. One must know well their

previous dwelling and build a suitable new one with materials from

the new environment so they may live comfortably and entertain new

guests. Working with Tyāgarāja’s lyrics has taught me this.

O Dāśarathi how could I ever

pay off my debt to you?

Lord of the all-purifying Name!

Tyāgarāja, Dāśaratbi nī rnamu

A guide such as T.S. Parthasarathy, the vidvān who was my living

reference library and guide to South Indian traditions, and trail-blazers

such as T. Sankaran and Savitri Rajan—it is humbling to know such

people who have sung the songs of Tyāgarāja all their lives, and it is

heartening to receive their blessings. C.V. Narasimhan, ‘Roji Auntie,’

T.S.P. and T. Sankaran, as well as Dr. S. Seetha and Dr. Prema Latha,

opened the doors to high culture for me in Madras and parts south.

Professors V. Narayana Rao, Jon GoldbergBelle, and J.L. Mehta

have shared valuable insights with me, Indira Peterson, John B.

Carman, Diana Eck and Gary Tubb helped me find my way in

research and in the search for meaning. Professors Jon Higgins, David

Ludden and Henry Haifetz—all gave me helpful perspectives while I

was struggling for orientation and accuracy. Translations of kritis

appeared in Bharavi, Bansuri, and Centre for the Study of World

Religions Bulletin Parts of the section on music and Rama bhakti were

included in a talk on the kriti which I gave at the 1986 Beloit South

Asia Festival and were published in Vivekananda Kendra Patrika, and

the Journal of the Madras Music Academy I appreciate these forums

and thank them for permission to publish here in a more finished form

my explorations. A grant from Harvard University, and a summer

stipend from Indiana University-Purdue University at Indianapolis

have contributed to my ability to spend the necessary time for this

study.

My spiritual guide, Śrī Sathya Sai Baba, a great singer who has a

unique far-reaching voice and who is the real rāja of tyāga—exemplar

of renunciation—helped me find the confidence to reach for new

possibilities and the patience to work until reaching completion.

When I first encountered him in 1970, I knew nothing of India; he

taught my wife and me many bhajans, and showed us the way to

silence.

Rose, my daughter, was born in the midst of my Tyāgarāja

studies—because of her, I got a little behind in my work, but also

because of her, I returned to it refreshed. Perhaps she taught me

tyāga’s real meaning: the music of letting go.

To my wife Marcia, I dedicate this book. Thanks to your help, I was

able to learn to live in another world. I remain indebted and forever

grateful.

CONTENTS

PREFACE

vii

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAP

xviii

PART ONE

Tyāgarāja—His Region and Era

CHAPTER ONE

The Making of a Legend: Tyāgarāja as Exemplar

The Significance of Life Stories

1

Biographies by Disciples

2

Life Stories from the Mid-Nineteenth

to the Early Twentieth Century

7

Comparison with Other Saints’ Lives

12

Concluding Considerations

of the Hagiographical Patterns

20

NOTES

25

CHAPTER TWO

Tyāgarāja's Roots in Regional History and the Cultural Continuum

The Telugu Smārta Brahmin:

Family and Community Background

30

The Cultural Background—Nayaks and Marathas

36

Regional Background—The Kaveri Delta

39

Tiruvarur—Tyāgarāja's Birthplace

41

Tiruvaiyaru—Sacred to Śiva

and the Home of Brahmins

42

xvi

CONTENTS

Influences in the Kaverı Air

47

Lowly Slaves and the Highly Cultured

50

The Place of Brahmıns in Earlier Times

52

The Changing Plight of Peasants in Thanjavur

53

Alliances and Dependencies

54

Locating Tyāgarāja in His Society

55

Caste Relationships in the Hindu Social Order

56

Tyāgarāja's Response

59

NOTES

61

CHAPTER THREE

Tyāgarāja's Thanjavur in a Global Perspective

History, Mythistory and Ahistoricism

69

South India Becomes Part of the World Trade Picture

73

The Origins and Fortunes of

Maratha Rule in Thanjavur and British Entrenchment

76

The Ascent of Hyder Ali and the Tensions of the Time

82

Schwartz—A Westerner's View of Thanjavur in Tyāgarāja's Time

83

Tyāgarāja's Response—Saboteur of Time's Tyranny

90

From Naked Yogi to Musical Genius

93

History as Kali Yuga's Dance of Death

96

Touching Home—Sources of Renewal

102

NOTES

109

CHAPTER FOUR

The Musician as Mystic: Tyāgarāja's Vision of Sacred Song

and the Features of the Kṛti

The Divine as the Embodiment of Music

117

Music and Devotion

120

Songs in Praise of Bhakti Music

123

Songs in Praise of Holy Musicians

125

Music as the Meeting Place

of the Human and the Divine

126

Features of the Kṛti Form

129

The Kṛti Structure

133

CONTENTS

xvii

Rāga—Dimensions of the Kṛti

138

Tāla—The Cycles of Rhythm

139

Sāhitya—Accompanying Lyrics

142

Other Dimensions of Sāhitya

145

Sangatis—New Variations

146

Rasa—An aesthetic experience

149

Reliability of the Kṛti Texts

152

NOTES

154

PART TWO

Tyāgarāja's Kṛtis and Kīrtanas

The Lyrics in Translation

165

KRITI NOTES

363

BIBLIOGRAPHY

377

INDEX TO KRITI TRANSLATIONS

385

ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAP

Map. South India Places Associated with Tyāgarāja's life xx

(following page 161)

1. Śrī Tyāgarāja. From an oil painting.

2. Tyāgarāja's horoscope from the palm-leaf manuscript of his life written by Thanjavur Sadaśiva Rao and Venkatasuri

3. The idol of Rāma worshipped by Tyāgarāja.

4. Manuscript of Pōtana Bhāgavata used by Tyāgarāja.

5. Paper notebook of Tyāgarāja's kṛtis in the Saurashtra Sabha collection, Madurai.

6. Palm-leaf manuscript of Tyāgarāja's kṛtis made by Veṅkaṭaramaṇa Bhāgavatar, now kept in the Saurashtra Sabha collection, Madurai.

7. The river Kaveri at Tiruvaiyaru.

8. Vidvāns singing the pañcaratna kīrtanas at the annual Tyāgarāja arādhana festival in Tiruvaiyaru.

PART ONE

Tyāgarāja

His Region and Era

PLACES ASSOCIATED WITH TYĀGARĀJA'S LIFE

INDIA

CHAPTER ONE

The Making of a Legend: Tyāgarāja as Exemplar

The bright imagery of the dreams we are entrusted with actualizing has been encoded in the phantasmagoria of the ancient myths we absorbed early in life.1

The Significance of Life Stories

THE perennial popularity of stories of saints’ lives in traditional societies testifies to the fact that people feel a natural fascination for holy biography, and that this provides an opportunity to instruct, call to action, inspire and arouse wonder. Hindu hagiography attests that stories of a life well lived are not soon forgotten. The third chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā contains a classical mention of this idea: ‘Whatever the best person does, exactly that do other people do; people follow the pramāṇam he sets’. Pramāṇam means example, standard, measure, sample or symbol. In Vedānta philosophy, pramāṇam also carries the sense of a recognized means to sure knowledge. People know of the example of this ‘best person’ whose life becomes a means to others, especially through stories

Sometimes a life story is chosen by a community to exemplify its values and embody its hopes and to assert its traditional identity to initiates and outsiders. In the case of Śrī Tyāgarāja, the still much-celebrated smārta brahmin singer of songs of bhakti (devotion), who lived in Tiruvaiyaru in the Thanjavur region of South India from AD 1767 to 1847, we have a unique opportunity to consider the history of such

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

an exemplary holy man's life story, and to trace the development of his

story over nearly a century and a half.

Tyāgarāja was born in 1767 during South India's early modern

period When Tyāgarāja was born the Vijayanagar empire's Telugu

Nayak viceroys' rule of scattered provinces such as Thanjavur had

given way to the reign of Maratha rajas, and European traders had

made inroads into and established settlements in South India. By the

time Tyāgarāja died in 1847, the Muslim forces of Tipu Sultan had

long since been defeated and the British had become a powerful

colonial power, controlling much of the political sphere and letting

Hindu kings sit on the Thanjavur throne for ceremonial purposes. A

number of Tyāgarāja's disciples lived to see the later modern period

get underway. Their written records offer evidence for speculation as

to how this saint's life story grew I believe an exploration of this

evidence can yield a better understanding of the lives of religious

figures and of hagiography and may offer clues about the cultural

needs such stories seem to satisfy.

We may consider the growth of narrative in Tyāgarāja's case in three

stages:

1. Tyāgarāja was revered by his disciples and students as a

great bhakta and composer, two of them recorded the major events in

his life story, and these are the earliest extant versions.

2. Subsequent renditions by the colourful harikathā (musical

discourse) performers of popular culture from the mid-nineteenth

century onward included events not found in the earliest texts.

3. A comparison of Tyāgarāja's hagiography with that of other

well-known South Indian saints reveals that his life stories took on the

archetypal patterns of events associated with previous musician-saints'

lives.

Biographies by Disciples

The first two biographies of Tyāgarāja were written by two

disciples—a father and son of Saurashtran descent—Veṅkaṭaramaṇa

Bhāgavatar and Krishnasvāmi Bhāgavatar.2 Veṅkaṭaramaṇa was born

in 1781, spent many years with Tyāgarāja, and then moved to

Walajapet, west of Madras. He died in 1874. When his son

Krishnasvāmī, born in 1824, grew into young adulthood, he studied with Tyāgarāja during the last two years of the saint's life. Both father and son wrote biographical texts in Telugu, the language which they learned while studying Tyāgarāja's songs. I will combine and summarize these two brief biographies which together constitute a family tradition. Though not dated, they would seem to have been written not long after Tyāgarāja's death in 1847. Veṅkaṭaramaṇa writes of Tyāgarāja's earlier years, having spent time with the master in the earlier part of his career. Krishnasvāmī writes of the later years and traditions current at the time of the saint's death, having studied with Tyāgarāja during the last few years of the master's life.

Tyāgarāja was born in a Telugu-speaking Vaidiki brahmin family which had migrated from (what is now) Andhra Pradesh to Tamil Nadu sometime during the Nayak reign, possibly as early as 1600. His father, Rāma Brahmam, was known for his discourses on the Rāmāyaṇa and was patronized by Tulajājī II, king of Thanjavur. Rāma Brahmam had been initiated in the Rāma tāraka mantra, a sacred sound-based formula in which Rāma's name 'enables the crossing' of the sea of births. Rāma Brahmam was initiated by the head of a Śaiva monastery in Marudanallur, near Kumbakonam. His first two sons were deficient in character; the third, Tyāgarāja, was different from the very start.

Before Tyāgarāja was born (according to Krishnasvāmī) the deity of the temple in Tīruvarur, Tyāgarājasvāmī (Śiva as the dancing yogi-ascetic), appeared in a dream to the parents, telling them that a son would be born to them, and that he would be an avatar of Nārada, and that they should name him 'Tyāgarāja'. So they called him Tyāga Brahmam when he was born, at noon in the year 4868 of the Kali era (May 4, 1767). Even when their son was a baby, the parents noticed that he stopped breast-feeding whenever he heard music being played.

Rāma Brahmam undertook a pilgrimage to Banaras (Kāśīyatra or journey to Kasi, i.e. the ancient holy city of Banaras one thousand miles to the north) with his sons (according to Veṅkaṭaramaṇa). But then in a dream, Śiva as Tyāgarājasvāmī told him to go to Tiruvaiyaru (a village on the Kaveri river, which had many brahmin inhabitants, and was known for its great Śiva temple, twenty miles away from Tiruvarur). Rāma Brahmam told the Śaiva king, Tulajājī II, of his

dream, and the king gave him a house in that village and six acres of

land.

As a youth Tyāgarāja studied in the king's Sanskrit school in

Tiruvaiyaru, and learned the Rāma tāraka mantra from his father.

Even in his childhood Tyāgarāja is supposed to have 'dreamt' (kāṇavu)

of Rāma while playing with other boys in the street, and to have given

his belongings away, true to his name Tyāgarāja became seriously ill

while still a child, but when he was visited by a saint, his health was

restored.

Tyāgarāja's father taught him to worship Rāma daily, and the boy

used to compose songs as part of that worship Tyāgarāja was initiated

into the recitation of the 'six syllable' Rāma mantra (and later into the

Nārada upāsana chant) by a sannyāsin or wandering renunciate named

Rāmakrishnānanda Svāmi (according to Krishnasvāmi Bhāgavatar).

After Tyāgarāja displayed promise as a lyricist, his father took him to

Śoṇṭi Veṅkaṭaramaṇayya, the famed Thanjavur court musician, to

study music. Tyāgarāja learned conventional Karnātaka music, but to

learn the deeper secrets, he developed devotion to Nārada, the

mythical wandering Vaiṣṇava bhakti singer, and studied his own

maternal grandfather's musicological manuscripts. Nārada appeared

to Tyāgarāja and gave him the musical treatise Svarārṇavam, 'Ocean of

Musical Tones'.4 Tyāgarāja also continued to repeat the Rāma tāraka

mantra for twenty years. When he had recited it ten million times, he

had a momentary but momentous darśan (vision) of Rāma and burst

into song. In all he repeated the mantra 960 million times in twenty

years, and had other visions which also inspired songs.

Tyāgarāja soon became known for his singing. In time, his music

teacher, Śoṇṭi Veṅkaṭaramaṇayya, asked him to sing some of his own

compositions for the leading court musicians of the day. Tyāgarāja

sang so well that his teacher publicly praised him as a greater musician

than himself and gave him a gold medal and chain which he had

received as an award at court. (Tyāgarāja later returned this medal at

the wedding of his teacher's daughter.) The king wanted to honour

Tyāgarāja but he refused to go to court even though his brothers

pressured him. When Tyāgarāja was twenty, his father Rāma

Brahmam died, the family house was partitioned, and Tyāgarāja spent

his time in his own section of the house immersed in devotion and

music. (This dispute and division of the estate is reflected in

Tyāgarāja's song Nādupai palikēru, the refrain of which is: 'People are

THE MAKING OF A LEGEND

talking about me, O Lord praised by the Vedas, saying I caused the family home's partition'. He implies that he himself strove for the unity of the household, while his avaricious brother sought division.)5

One of Tyāgarāja's brothers, Pañcanada, settled down as a house-holder. The other, Pañcapakeśa, became ill and, though Tyāgarāja sang and prayed for him, he died. When Tyāgarāja was twenty-three years old his wife Pārvati, whom he had married at eighteen, died, and he married her sister, Kamalāmbā. Tyāgarāja had one daughter, Sītāmahālakṣmī, and he arranged to have her married to Subbarāmayya; they had a son who died without issue.

King Sarabhojī's son-in-law, Moti Rao, frequented Tyāgarāja's home, listening to his music A very wealthy man in Madras, Kōvūri Sundara Modaliāru, invited Tyāgarāja to visit him; Tyāgarāja refused. The rich man went to Upaniṣad Brahmam, the saintly scholar and composer who was then head of the Kanchipuram math (a monastery southwest of Madras). Upaniṣad Brahmam wrote to Tyāgarāja, saying that as a former friend of Tyāgarāja's father he wanted to see the composer whose fame was growing. He asked Tyāgarāja to make a pilgrimage and to come and see him on the way. So Tyāgarāja went on a pilgrimage to Tirupati (a holy hilltop temple to the north of Kanchipuram), and arranged to visit Upaniṣad Brahmam en route Tyāgarāja composed new songs when he stopped at temples along the way.6 Krishnasvāmi notes that besides composing kīrtanas (devotional songs of praise), Tyāgarāja wrote the Naukā Caritram and Prahlāda Bhakti Vijayam ('Boat Story' and 'The Victory of Prahlāda's Devotion')—poetic narratives interspersed with songs.

Near the end of his life, Tyāgarāja entered the order of sannyāsins, the last stage of life for twice-born Hindus. He made offerings to brahmins and the poor (as is the Hindu custom at the time of death), and while devotional songs (bhajans) were being sung, in the presence of a 'great sound or exclamation' (samakṣamuna ghōsaka), he 'joined Brahman'—merged with the ultimate reality. His gravesite memorial (samādhi) was built on the bank of the river Kaveri, near the sites of previous sannyāsins' graves

The two biographers thus include in their narratives significant information which historically-minded moderns recognize as

‘historical’—for example, they include the names of ancestors and

descendants, date of birth, geographical locations, and so on. They

also include some religious concepts, images, and interpretations—for

instance, the appearance of Nārada, visions of Rāma after twenty years

of reciting the Rāma tāraka mantra7, merging with Brahman at death,

and so on. Already, Tyāgarāja is proclaimed by Śiva in a dream to be

an incarnation of Nārada. (Later, he is also called an incarnation of

Tyāgarāja (Lord Śiva) himself; but, finally the folk memory settles on

Vālmīki, the Rāmāyaṇa poet, as his most fitting previous identity.8)

One thing the dream shows is that brahmins keep a higher spiritual

reference point, even as they accept worldly gifts. It is as if Tyāgarāja’s

father is asserting: ‘I received the house and land from the king

because I had a vision of Śiva who revealed his will to me, not just

because the king is great’. The king gives not out of sheer selfless

generosity, but to purify himself from the results of his actions (pāpa),

and the brahmin accepts but can be effective as a recipient only

because he holds a higher reference point, not just his own self-

interest.

The conversion experience for which most male saints seem to be

remembered9 is not found in Tyāgarāja’s life. Instead, there is a near-

death and rebirth experience in Tyāgarāja’s childhood: he is very sick,

and it is feared he will die; a holy man (yati) visits him, and Tyāgarāja

is revived. He is also pictured as refusing the king’s invitations,

anticipating his own death and passing away in the presence of ‘a great

sound,’ appropriate to a master of holy vibrations in music and

mantra.

The authors of the two biographies had not yet been born in 1781

when Hyder Ali’s army ravaged the Thanjavur area and Tyāgarāja was

in his teens. The Kaveri delta at that time suffered famine, and farmers

abandoned their fields. But even if the disciples had been alive then,

since they were writing hagiography or sacred biography of their

saintly music master and not history, they might not have included

samsāric (that is, change-prone, time-bound, and ultimately illusory)

elements of the Kali Yuga—the present strife-ridden age—such as the

presence of foreigners and famine in their accounts. Tyāgarāja himself

never directly mentions the wars in his songs. Perhaps, as some

scholars suggest, this is a typically Indian religious response to history:

for Hindus, history does not really exist, being māyā (enchantment and

illusion) and asat (non-eternal and unreal). Therefore, it is unworthy of

too much attention and far better to seek the timeless reality.

The death of one brother, who died despite Tyāgarāja's petitionary

prayers and songs to Rāma, is carefully recorded, but there is no

mention of certain incidents which loom so importantly in later

tellings: the theft by his brother of Tyāgarāja's worship-images of

Rāma with his bow, standing with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa, and Hanumān

kneeling; the revival of a dead brahmin with songs; the opening of the

Tirupati temple curtain or inner sanctum door by song, Tyāgarāja's

rescue by Rāma when robbers attack him in a forest, on his way home

from pilgrimage.

Veṅkaṭaramaṇa Bhāgavatar wrote more effusive and extravagant

descriptions of his master Tyāgarāja in Sanskrit poems, as Telugu poet

Toomu Narasimhadasa did in his own mother tongue. In these forms,

the genre dictates more hyperbolic rhapsody. The two Telugu prose

biographies summarized above are more straightforward and re-

strained in their enthusiasm, as if knowledge of the biographical genre

dictated their limits.

Life Stories from the

Mid-Nineteenth to the Early Twentieth Century

One tradition which became common in later life stories is that

Tyāgarāja predicted his work would begin to be better known sixty

years after his death, which occurred in 1847. In the early twentieth

century, two important books were published. First, in 1904,

Subbarama Dīkṣitar, descendant of Muttusvāmi Dīkṣitar who was a

member of the 'trinity' of great composers of Karnātaka music,

published Saṅgīta Sampradāya Pradarśini (Exposition of the Tradition

of Music), a Telugu script collection which gathered songs and

sketches of composers' lives. He added incidents which had become

popular in intervening years-for example, the hiding of Tyāgarāja's

images in a well (not in the Kaverī river, as most other tellings have it),

and he mentions that Tyāgarāja is called an avatār of the god Tyāgarāja

of Tiruvarur. This famous image of Śiva the yogi-dancer is revered as

the divine patron and inspiration of musicians in the south.

Second, Narasimha Bhāgavatar, a musical discourse performer

(harikathā artists expound bhakti stories, illustrating them with songs;

harikathā literally means 'stories of the Lord'), collected in one

volume hundreds of Tyāgarāja's lyrics and introduced them with his

life story in Telugu. This book was entitled Sadguru Tyāgarājasvāmi

Kīrtanalu, and was published in Madras in 1908.13 In the life story told

here, Rāma Brahman has only two sons;14 the bad one throws

Tyāgarāja's images into the river Kaveri; when Tyāgarāja refuses the

king's invitations, the king grows angry, threatens the saint with force,

and then suffers from a stomach ache which only the saint can cure.

Arriving at Tirupati, a disappointed Tyāgarāja finds the inner sanctum

closed. According to the story, he spontaneously composes Tera tīyaga

rāda: 'Won't you draw back the curtain of arrogance within me?' and

this causes the curtain to open in order to enable him to have the sight

and blessing of the deity. Narasimha Bhāgavatar also tells the story of

robbers attacking the saint's disciple-borne palanquin in an attempt to

take the gold gifted by a rich man of Madras; he also relates the tale of

the reviving of a drowned brahmin by Tyāgarāja singing Nā jivādhāra,

literally 'My life's support,' or 'Staff of my life'.

Staff of my life, Fruit of my fervour,

Blue lotus eyes, Crest-gem of dynasties,

Staff of my life, Fruit of my fervour,

My vision's brilliance, Perfume of my breathing,

Shape of the Name I pray, my Flower for worship,

Aren't you all these to me, Staff of my life

Fruit of my fervour, Tyāgarāja praises you.

These stories and other later versions of this century reflect trends

of the South Indian oral tradition in the growth of sacred biographies.

The fully developed life story told in concert performances, books,

and picture books reflects the culmination of fifty years of people's

accumulated attempts to remember the saint and to remind others of

his life.

The time after Tyāgarāja's death was a transitional period in South

India. Contact with the British stimulated Indians to begin developing

a new self-consciousness. Between 1847 and 1900 South India

underwent great change:

...the annexation in 1856 by the British... began the

decline in [royal] patronage to arts and letters [in

Thanjavur]. In gradual stages, the royal court ceased to be

THE MAKING OF A LEGEND

musically active. This led to the migration of composers

and scholars to other states which offered them shelter and

cultural opportunities... The old gurukula system of

musical education had to slowly give way in the new

society that had evolved. Music which was the monopoly

of the gifted and chosen few disciples of the great gurus,

became slowly democratised... The patronage of the court

was replaced by the Government and local bodies like the

sabhas.15

Madras grew into a rich and vital city, and Thanjavur, a hinterland.

The rich Madrasi, Kōvūrī Sundara Modalāru, who pulled strings

more sophisticatedly than the Thanjavur king had done, was like the

twentieth century beckoning to Tyāgarāja. The restructuring of society

and religion was underway by the mid-nineteenth century. Ram

Mohan Roy (d. 1833) had already launched the Brahmo Samaj, a

movement promoting Hindu reform and revival, and others too felt

the urge to update Hinduism, to release people from the rigid caste

system, ritualism and overly emotional piety, to attempt to recover a

pristine Vedic vision, and make Hindu concerns more humanistic.

The Arya Samaj (founded in 1875), led by Swami Dayananda

Saraswati, agitated against child marriage and for widow remarriage.

Nationalist sentiments were growing in response to the colonial

experience, leading the way to progress for the Indian National

Congress whose spokesman Tilak said, 'Our motto is self-reliance—

not mendicancy'.

India's new spirit demanded both material and spiritual welfare.

Aurobindo spoke of the goal of swarāj or self-rule not as mere political

and economic independence—which he supported—but as a spiritual

movement towards emancipation, in the fullest sense, of the Indian

people. Leaders such as Dadabhai Naoroji, who spoke at the 1906

Indian National Congress, voiced new hopes for unity so that India

could regain her previous strength and greatness and overcome her

great social problems.

In seeking the resources which would represent the greatness of

India's past and, perhaps, of its future, people seized on the indi-

genous genius of Tyāgarāja's appealing works, which were full of

time-tested Indian values and moods. The rather low-key life of a

10 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Telugu musician in Tamil Nadu was fleshed out with more nourishing images of dramatic action and self-reliance-the saintly hero resuscitating a brahmin, winning thieves over, proving his mettle through confrontations-in an age when mendicancy and emotionalism were perceived as insufficient. Tyāgarāja's life could be told in a manner which would show a way to swarāj through Rāmarāj. His work could serve as a kind of holding pattern for religious sentiment and grass-roots values, and for the social order of family, village, and sectarian life in a quickly-changing world.

Harikathā performers, religious entertainers singing and retelling bhakti stories, participated in this process. They were mediators who spread the stories of Tyāgarāja and others, bringing them alive with verse and song. As performers well known for establishing a lively rapport with their audiences, these harikathā artists were aware of people's modes of understanding and were familiar with the traditional stock of situations and responses which would convey the greatness of Tyāgarāja. Also, the harikathā performers, in an efficient simplification, used Tyāgarāja's songs to reinforce the stories of his life. The accounts of the origins of certain songs prepare the mood and reinforce associated ideas and thus are helpful in the dramatizing process in which harikathā performers engage daily: namely, driving home bhakti teachings. Being dramatists, these performers have found ways to perform skills on the theme of Tyāgarāja's bhakti, so that the stories about Tyāgarāja and the lines he himself uttered in exquisite masterpieces complemented and reified each other and became all the stronger in the folk memory.

The folk memory, the collective popular oral tradition which generates stories, cherishes sayings and passes songs from generation to generation. Parts of the folk memory are sometimes written out but it cannot be captured by print or limited to published accounts, since at any given time, many more people have heard, know, and can tell more traditions than those which are published in books or read by readers.

The folk memory tends to elaborate the great singer's story in archetypal directions. The growth often seems to be toward dramatic incidents associated with previous great saints' lives, as we shall see. The legends of earlier saints are regarded as models of fully realized potential; in order to join them, Tyāgarāja must be seen in terms of their lives. Instrumental in this 'canonization,' or acceptance into the

ranks of other great singer-saints through the development of

legends, were the harikathā performers who used Tyāgarāja's songs

and life as vehicles to instruct in values and to inspire religious

feelings.

During the second half of the nineteenth century, Thanjavur

Krishna Bhāgavatar (1847–1903) developed harikathā performances

about Tyāgarāja's life. Besides Narāsimha Bhāgavatar, who wrote an

influential biography of the saint-composer, other harikathā performers

were also part of this process. In fact, K.K. Rāmaswāmi Bhāgavatar,

son of Krishnasvāmi Bhāgavatar and grandson of Veṅkataramaṇa

Bhāgavatar, wrote a biography in Tamil which included the rescue

from robbers incident, the opening of the Tirupati curtain incident,

and the story about the revival of a drowned man through song

16 L. Muthia Bhāgavatar's Sanskrit biography of Tyāgarāja,17 published in

1941, is a narrative in classical form (śloka or epic poetry verses),

consciously told as a postscript to the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa This is but

one more example of a harikathā performer gathering oral traditions

and presenting them in narrative form. Banni Bai and T.S. Balakrishna

Sastrigal are harikathā performers in present-day Tamil Nadu who still

sing of Tyāgarāja's life, now using microphones and cassettes to help

spread his deeds of devotion.

Other full-scale written versions of the life include P. Samba-

moorthy’s Great Composers, Vol. II. Tyāgarāja, 1954, S.Y. Krishna-

swamy’s Thyagaraja Saint and Singer, 1968, the Sanskrit work Śrī

Tyāgarājacarita by T.S. Sundaresa Sarma, 1937, and the Telugu Śrī

Tyāgarāja Caritra by Viñjamuri Varaha Narasimhācāryulu, 1934.18 Not

all of these are harikathā performers, but they all include episodes

from harikathā-related versions.

Thus, the harikathā performers have been influential mediators in

the spread of Tyāgarāja stories. Those mentioned above, and other

celebrated sacred storytellers, in their traditional costumes, following

ritual-like customs of discourse, wandered throughout the south with

a wealth of dramatic stories, retelling them with lyrical flair. In their

peregrinations, they transmitted a great store of religious lore in-

cluding accounts of Tyāgarāja's life. Westernized intellectuals of

modern India may dismiss these stories and their colourful unscientific

tellers, but the majority of the general public delights in them and

honours them still.

12 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Comparison with Other Saints’ Lives

While working with material concerning Tyāgarāja’s life and stories

of other South Indian musician-saints, I found twelve or more

recurrent motifs. Though each of these motifs is not invariably a part

of all saints’ lives, many are often found in one form or another.

I do not want to imply that the process of associating Tyāgarāja with

legends which are archetypal was the root cause of his subsequent

veneration or apotheosis This form of sacralization did impress on

South Indian minds his importance, but it should also be considered

an extension and an emphasizing of reverence already being offered to

this important religious figure while he was still alive. Household

stories such as the one about Tyāgarāja’s anger when a neighbour’s

boy stepped on drying sesame seeds show the man’s human side, and

are far less common. The archetypal–mythic episodes, as we shall see,

attempt to convey the saint’s spiritual power. The idiom of this

language seems made up, in part, of the odds and ends of previous

holy musicians’ stories—illustrative perhaps of Lévi-Strauss’s discus-

sion of the mythic bricoleur as a handyman fashioning new myths from

the remnants of old ones.

In the following twelve motifs, there seems to be a growth of

hagiographical material associated with Tyāgarāja developing towards

and fulfilling the larger archetypes often already known to South

Indians at the time of Tyāgarāja’s birth. The saints whose lives I am

comparing with Tyāgarāja’s are well known in South India, and are

part of the common heritage of the folk memory.

1. A miracle of origins A god appears, often in a dream, and

commands the parents to undertake an action, and/or announces the

imminent birth of a great soul or an incarnation before the destined

great one is born. The other members of the ‘trinity’ of Karnataka

composers—Muttusvāmi Dīkṣitar and Śyāma Śāstri—are also remem-

bered as being announced in this way, as are the Vaiṣṇava saint

Vedānta Deśikar, Telugu composer Kṣetrayya and others. The belief

in dreams as highly valued divine messages leads to the retention of

memories of them, especially the ones which are believed to have

come true. In sacred biographies, the birth-announcement dream

signals the spiritual greatness of the one about to be born.

Even as a child, the saint-to-be may be distinguished by his diet.

Nammālvār refuses breastmilk, intent on meditation; Tyāgarāja

stops nursing when he hears music. This depiction is a sign of nurture

from a spiritual source beyond this world.

2. Initiation and aid from a sannyāsin, intervention by a long-dead

saint or mythical figure. A holy man, specifically described as a sannyāsin

in some stories, helped Tyāgarāja revive when he was deathly ill as a

child, a sannyāsin initiated him in the Rāma tāraka mantra and the

Nārada mantra. The sannyāsin figure may be factual, as Tyāgarāja's

guru Rāmakrishnānanda was, or mythical, or a transcendent being in

disguise—Nārada, or even Rāma. The helper reveals secret knowl-

edge, shows the way when the seeker is still in ordinary circumstances,

and so is a harbinger of and initiater to a new life. The other 'trinity'

members, the Kaveri delta nāmasiddhānta leader Sadguru Svāmī, and

many other saints also have similar stories told of them. Kabīr initiated

Bhadrācala Rāmadās in a dream, Nāmadev appeared to Tukārām,

Vyāsa appeared to Vadīrāja, and so on, in other stories. In Karnataka,

dāsakūṭa lore has it that Purandaradāsa (d. 1564) appeared to

Tyāgarāja and gave him direction.19

3. Learning from an extraordinary 'guru ' Tyāgarāja was remem-

bered as, at first, being critical of devotees of the Goddess Dharma-

samvardhanī in his village. It is said that he learned broadmindedness

and appreciation for the Goddess, who is Śiva's consort, from his wife.

He eventually wrote songs on the Goddess Dharmasamvardhanī for

festive occasions.20 The pattern points to a humbling of pride with a

lesson of worldly relativism and divine absolutism. The great haridāsa

guru Vyāsarāya, as well as Purandaradāsa, the Śaiva bhakta Sundara-

mūrti, and others are depicted in this way. A classic example is

Śaṅkara. Despite his monist philosophy, he was unconsciously at-

tached to his brahmin status and the duality it implies. He encoun-

tered an untouchable, who, as if to underscore the point of his

polluting presence, was carrying liquor and had a dog romping by his

side. After reacting with revulsion like a typical dualist, Śaṅkara

learned to see all as one. Perhaps other guru stories, such as surpassing

one's guru (as the Vaiṣṇava philosopher Rāmānuja did in his secret-

revealing expansiveness, and as Tyāgarāja did in learning the esoteric

music his music guru did not know), should also be included in this

category in which destined greatness surpasses convention. Tyāgarāja,

like Krishna and other divine heroes, is said to have learned all his

guru could teach in a single year.21

4. Trial and vision For twenty-one years, Tyāgarāja strove in his

purifying tapas, sacrificing the pleasures of the normal householder,

repeating his six syllable mantra 960 million times; he also endured

strife with his brother and was comforted by Rāma who appeared to

him at important points along the way. Persecution or hardship

brought on by a family member is also found in other saints' lives,

including Tukārām, Mīrābai, and the Kannada poetess Mahādēviyakka.

Śaiva saints, such as Appar and Māṇikkavācakar, and Vaiṣṇavas,

such as Purandaradāsa, Bhadrācala Rāmadās, Annamācārya and

Nārāyaṇa Tīrtha, are all recalled as having visions or oneiric ex-

periences of their deities, usually as a climax to fervent devotion.

5 Contempt of court Tyāgarāja, according to many tellings, from

the earliest onward, was invited to sing for the king of Thanjavur, and

was promised great rewards if he would do so. Tyāgarāja is always

pictured as rejecting the invitation. Numerous bhakti saints are famous

for refusing to praise or musically entertain the king whose court is

symbolic of the worldly order of society, as opposed to the timeless

inner world of bhakti and the communitas-governed camaraderie of

bhaktas. At least one purāṇic tale depicts the fate of a king who was

born as an owl because he demanded that a Vaiṣṇava sing his

praises.22

Bhadrācala Rāmadās, Pōṭana, and Tyāgarāja are considered to be

three Telugu bhaktas who made crucial conscientious choices against

panegyrics and for devotional lyrics. 'These three are the real kings

who have held sway over the kingdom of devotion in Andhra

literature, as distinct from the rust kings, moth kings and robber kings

whose pomp is ephemeral.'23 Besides being remembered as part of this

trio of resisters, Tyāgarāja is also part of the 'trinity' of Karnataka

music composers who had all refused courtly advances at various

times.

Apart from religious reasons, there may have also been historical

causes for this aloofness. Tyāgarāja saw the powerlessness of the king

when the British and Muslims played havoc with Thanjavur; perhaps

this strengthened the single-minded bhakti in his stance. Tyāgarāja,

according to oral tradition, preferred to live off offerings of rice given

to him while he strolled and sang, and on disciples' offerings, rather

than depend on the court. He fulfilled his tendencies toward renun-

ciation by formally taking the vow of sannyāsa shortly before his death.

The Tamil poet Nammālvār sang to Viṣṇu: 'I cannot praise anyone

else'. The Telugu lyricist Annamācārya, as well as the Kannada singer

Purandaradāsa, and the Maratha poet Tukārām are also among the numerous other saints who felt unable to entertain and sing in praise of others, and refused kings' prestigious commands. In Thanjavur District a number of saints and musicians spurned the court.24 Some North Indian saints are also depicted thus—Sūrdās, for example, refused Akbar.

The situation found in these anecdotes illustrates the French Indologist Madeleine Biardeau's thesis that bhakti 'englobes' sannyāsin values, and sannyāsin values 'englobe' worldly dharma. The saint, though active in the world, may be a sannyāsin in spirit, as is encouraged by the Bhagavad Gītā (vi 1). Refusal of the king is a vivid object lesson etched repeatedly into the folk mind as the ideal value and the mark of the admirable saint-sannyāsin who follows a higher authority than the etiquette he breaches. For instance, Gandhi's authenticity is recognizable because he refused to be co-opted by the British Raj. The saint is usually compassionate to authority, commiserating with the king as a fellow creature, but adamant in asserting independence. We might say Tyāgarāja refused to play the clown in the king's self-centred drama, though he gladly played the clown to King Rāma in a number of humour-laced songs.

6. The endangered musician sings and is rescued by the Lord. According to legend, Tyāgarāja, returning from Madras, had gold with him, though he did not know it—his disciples had received it from a rich man. Thieves attacked them at night in a forest; Tyāgarāja sang out to Rāma and was saved. The assailants serve as symbols of any menace to well-being, and the Lord's rescue offers the hope of merciful protection to the sincere. Śaiva saints, such as Appar, Sundaramūrti and Jñānasambandar, the musicologist Veṅkaṭamakhi, as well as Vaiṣṇava saints such as Rāmānuja, Kūrattaḷvān, Vadirāja, and Purandaradāsa, and North Indian saints such as Tulsidās, Kabīr and Nānak are some of the other holy people remembered as similarly rescued. In some stories, the saint is rescued from a difficult situation, such as a debate—the Lord gives knowledge and eloquence, and the opponent is won over When the rescue is from thieves, there is often a character transformation. The robbers repent in the saint's presence, for he is a conduit for the grace that leads outlaws to reform. The danger which gold brings is pointed out, as is the character-alchemy of rehabilitation. On the historical level, robber and thug tales have appeared in waves in the south and all across India at certain times. In

16 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

1829, 'thuggism was prevalent all over India and strong measures were taken for its suppression'.25

7. A loss, for example, of divine images Legends of Tyāgarāja's brother stealing his images of worship and throwing them in the river Kaveri bring to mind the Tamil saint Vallabha who, as a child, had his stone representation of Pillaiyār (Gaṇeśa) stolen from him Annamācārya, a Telugu bhakta who lived two centuries before Tyāgarāja, composed a song about his lost images, which are thought to have been stolen during an invasion by Oriyas. The story is also reminiscent of the historical event of the Rañganātha image being removed from the Srirangam temple not far from Tyāgarāja's village during Muslim invasions.

In Tyāgarāja's case, the story is associated with the song Nēnendu vetakudurā, 'Where might I search for you, O Lord?' This episode depicts a time when ordinary worship becomes impossible, the favourite focus of devotion being dislocated, bringing a dry time to be traversed with patience and yearning.

8 Miraculous recovery or auspicious discovery—a boon received in a body of water. Tyāgarāja finds his images in the Kaveri sand after receiving the inspiration to search there. His contemporary, Dīkṣitar, is recalled as having received a vīṇā while standing in the Ganges. The nāmasiddhānta saints of the Kaveri delta are also known for religious experiences at rivers.

Rivers in India are goddesses; but in sacred biographies, they are also sites for revival. The waters symbolize primal chaos, hence a return to origins which can purify and refresh. Rivers are magical sites of mediation between the material and spiritual realms; they are tīrthas, access points for receiving divine energy, discoveries, and restorations; the boon received signals renewal.26

9. The power of music is made manifest in a number of ways:

(a) Through the prolific number of the inspired singers' songs. Tyāgarāja is said to have composed 24,000 songs, Purandaradāsa 475,000, and so on. (In some cases, the large number is winnowed by a trial of fire and/ or water, as in the case of Bhadrācala Rāmadās—the songs which survived were the ones Rāma chose as best.)27

(b) The power of music to bring down rain is depicted in the Mahābhārata and Rāmāyaṇa28. Many South Indian musicians are said to have performed this magico-religious feat. Nāṭanagopāla Nāyakī and Dīkṣitar are examples. It is easy to imagine the synchronicity of

people praying for rain during a drought and holy musicians playing

immediately before a change in the weather.

(c) The bhakti singer's ability to force open temple doors with

intensity of song is also celebrated in the lives of Kanakadās, Appar,

Annamācārya, Tukārām, and Tyāgarāja. Tyāgarāja's Tera tīyaga rādā

('Won't you draw back the curtain of arrogance within me...') is a cri

de coeur associated with his pilgrimage to Tirupati. In the lyrics, the

curtain is the alienating arrogance or envy, screening out God's

presence. The folk memory pays no attention to the literal meaning,

but pictures Tyāgarāja singing this song and thaumaturgically effecting

darśan The idea expressed is that there are no barriers to intense

spiritual presence. (There is a folk tradition in Christianity that when

Jesus approached Jerusalem on a donkey, one of the doors of the

Golden Gate 'opened by itself'.)

(d) The power of raising the dead with song is celebrated in many

stories. Tyāgarāja is commonly thought to have revived a drowned

brahmin with the song Nā jīvādhāra ('Support (or staff) of my life').

Tirujñāna Sambandhar, Appar, Tirumūlar, Madhvācārya, and Vadurāja

were also remembered thus This motif is in evidence from ancient

times. As early as the time of the Jaiminīya Brāhmana (II.94.5), written

between 800 and 500 bc, we hear of a king in his chariot accidentally

killing a brahmin boy. His priest, Vriṣa Jāna, as the king's purohit

(household priest), must take responsibility. By employing the vāṛśa

('rain') melody, he restores the boy to life.

(e) The power of music is manifest through spontaneous kindling of

flames. It is said that the fourteenth century musician Gōpala Nāyaka

was asked by the sultan to sing the Rāga Dīpak ('light') while neck deep

in the Jumna River. Doing so, he was consumed by flames. In some

cases, this motif of spontaneous combustion by vibration is a symbol

of spiritual music's power to keep the harmony of the entire kingdom

in order. One example is the story in which holy musicians Bhaktisāra

and Kanikannan refuse to sing for the king of Kanchipuram. When they

leave the kingdom, the ruler seeks them out and asks for their help

because the temple light has been extinguished and only they can light it

with song and, in so doing, reinstate dharma, the rightful order The

symbolism of hymn-kindled harmony, light, and fire is found in the Sāma

Veda (for instance, vv. 1532, 1777). It would seem that the idea expressed

in these stories is of music's ability to heal, to illuminate the kingdom and

harmonize people's lives, inspiring prosperous dharmic rule.

18 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

The messianic mission of the musician who re-lights the flame of dharma to restore order in the kingdom is found in both North and South Indian legends. A good example is the following story collected by A.B. Fyzee-Rahamin in 1925 (my italics):

In the innermost sanctuary of an old temple, there burned a sacred light for ages, and through the forgetfulness of the priest to fill it with fresh oil, the light became extinguished. The whole country was at once thrown in disturbance and despair. They attributed the incident to some evil spirit hovering round them, and thought all ills would now befall the country.

A famous musician hearing of this offered to burn the light with the magic power of his song. The Raja of the land escorted him with great honour to the shrine.

At the hour congenial to the Raga, he began his song and sang it with such effect that there gleamed a tiny light in the innermost gloom of the sanctuary. Then, one by one, all the lamps were mysteriously lighted.

He had averted the calamity 29

A Manual of the Pudukkottai State, Volume II, a compendium of information about the South Indian kingdom which is now part of Tiruchirapalli District, includes a traditional account in which Tyāgarāja is said to have visited Pudukottai at a time when the king assembled musicians and placed an unlit lamp amidst them. When Tyāgarāja sang, encouraged by his guru, the Rāga Jyotisvarūpini, (meaning ‘the very form or essence of light’), the wick is said to have caught fire. Further, Tyāgarāja is pictured as having controlled the brightness of the flame by varying the gradations of the rāga 31 Why Tyāgarāja was in Pudukottai and consented to show his thaumaturgic ability through music is not stated.

10. The Lord responds to song. In these stories, the image worshipped by the devotee comes to life, dances, keeps time, presents a gift and so on. Examples include episodes in the lives of Jayadeva, Nāmadev, Nārāyaṇa Tīrtha, Dīkṣitar, and many others. Rāma is said to have appeared to Tyāgarāja on numerous occasions to give comfort

and to show his approval of the saint's songs. In some stories, the Lord

saves the devotee from embarrassment or disgrace.

11. The musician is an amśa, incarnating a 'portion or aspect' of a

divine being Sometimes the mention of a saint being identical to a

corresponding divine figure is metaphorical, a kind of associational

thinking, described by hyperbole. Veṅkaṭaramaṇa Bhāgavatar's des-

cription of Tyāgarāja in Sanskrit verse as a 'Brahma of literature,' a

'Śiva in drinking the nectar of Rāma's name,' a 'Nārada of music,' and

so on, seems to be praise by exaggeration. But in other accounts,

Tyāgarāja is literally called an incarnation of Vālmīki, Nārada-or Śiva.

'Though he was born in recent times,' such accounts seem to warn, 'do

not regard him as an original, but as his own glorious predecessor with

a different name, yet playing a role of similar magnitude.'

Nammālvār, Madhvācārya, Purandaradāsa, Annamācārya, and

countless other saints are considered to have been incarnations of

specific previous sages or of deities. Great Indians' lives are often

understood in terms of the past because of the belief in transmigration

and avatārs—they are conditioned by the past identity, but address a

changing present. It would seem that there is a limited number of

missions of great magnitude and special character (for example, the

role of revitalizing dharma, or spreading Rāma bhakti), and that people

interpret saintly lives according to these known patterns, thus org-

anizing their knowledge and perceptions in ways recognizable to

others in the culture in terms of those preconceptions. For example, in

harikathā performances on Gandhi's life, he 'is treated as an in-

carnation (avatār) of God who has come to deliver India from foreign

domination'.31 Likewise, in the folk literature of Maharashtra, B.R.

Ambedkar, leader of the untouchable movement, is an avatār of

Viṣṇu. In the case of Tyāgarāja, to call him Vālmīki is to make a case

for his works being comparable to the Rāmāyaṇa—his utterance was

an ancient yet fresh scripture—the same voice inspiring new words

and melodies of praise.

12. Foreknowledge of death. In most tellings Tyāgarāja, knowing his

death was near, became a saṁnyāsin—that is, he took vows of

renunciation which signal the fourth and final stage of an orthodox

Hindu life.32 Then he announced a great event, inviting, as it were,

guests to attend his passing. In fact, all three of the trinity of

Karnataka music are said to have known of their own deaths before-

hand. Some point to their knowledge of astrology, others to the

20

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

mention of this power in the Yoga Sūtras (III.21). A sign of being in harmony with the divine plan, almost in control of one's lifespan, this ability to foretell one's coming demise is fairly common among South Indian saints. Nāṭanagopāla Nāyaki, for example, who died in 1914, was born and died in the same month and day of the week. He announced in advance that he would 'go to heaven' in six months, and told followers to arrange to bury him in a certain location. Tyāgarāja's moment of death is remembered in connection with a musical sound, as we have seen This is most fitting for one whose long life was spent as a bhakti musician and for one whose name became Nāda Brahmānanda when he took sannyāsin vows. (Advaitins take one of the tollowing final names when making vows of renunciation: Ānanda, Indra Sarasvatī, Pūrī, Bhāratī.)

Some of these thaumaturgic stories—the lighting of the lamp with song, the raising of the dead, the rescue from robbers—are wonder tales meant to inspire awe or speak illuminatingly about powerful spiritual possibilities. Others are calls to action, encouraging listeners to prefer the presence of one's Lord to the presents of the worldly, to endure ordeals with patience, and to attain through diligence the longed-for vision. Perhaps each one is meant to give access to the kind of world-view for which Tyāgarāja was thought to have lived.

Concluding Considerations

of the Hagiographical Patterns

We have seen how a life story can expand. But we have not discussed possible reasons for its expansion in specific ways.

The French Indologist, Charlotte Vaudeville, and also J.C. Archer, citing Mohan Singh,33 note somewhat different patterns in the lives of North Indian saints. Vaudeville cites as one source of the episodes the listeners' taking the saint's lyrical imagery literally, reading in a double meaning where none was intended. We saw that this might be applicable to Tyāgarāja's curtain episode (Terā tīyaga rāda) and a number of the others—the robber episode (Munduvenaka), perhaps the revival of the drowned brahmin (Nā jīvādhāra), and the loss of the Rāma image (Nēnendu vetakudurā). But misinterpreted or over-determined songs are only a partial explanation for the form taken by later additions to Tyāgarāja's life. More than chance double meanings

would seem to be involved here. What motivating values might lie

behind the added episodes in the stories and songs?

The Sinologist Herbert Fingarette offers a potentially applicable

suggestion of overarching or foundational elements orienting the

process of telling life stories. Fingarette studied the narratives with

which Confucius consciously sought to orchestrate the guiding

paradigms for a selected and consolidated Chinese tradition. Fing-

arette distinguishes between the 'memory narrative,' which is histo-

rical-minded, and the 'meaning narrative,' which is mythological.

Confucius used Chinese memory-narratives with legendary heroic

figures to serve as models. In Confucian imagery, the axe handle

should be used as a pattern to carve a new axe handle; similarly, men's

lives should be modelled on those of exemplary leaders. 'In Con-

fucius's thought, the formal mode (narrative of a meaning-generating

'past') fused with the content of his teaching (the crucial role of

tradition), he could talk in a way that was perfectly suited to arouse

that deep reverence and loyalty to the tradition which was the content

of his ideal.'34

In the case at hand, though there are differences between the

Chinese and Indian situations, it would seem that the earliest written

records of Tyāgarāja's life correspond generally to the 'memory nar-

rative,' and the later tellings, as expressed in harikathā performers'

versions, are more along the lines of mythological 'meaning narratives'.

Harikathā performers, who used the oral tradition to retell purāṇic

stories and sing songs, were called upon by the situation in per-

formances to provide dramatic and edifying stories linking Tyāgarāja's

life with his songs; also, their challenge was to show exemplary

responses to given crises. Elements serving these purposes tended to

serve as crystallization points for episodes.

The anthropologist Victor Turner further focuses on the element of

transmitting traditional values in his thinking about 'root-paradigms'.

These are 'cultural models in the heads' of active leaders who are

carriers of traditions. These root paradigms shape goals, ideas, and

relationships. They 'reach down to irreducible life-stances of in-

dividuals, passing beneath-conscious prehension to a fiduciary hold on

what they sense to be axiomatic values, matters literally of life or

death. Root-paradigms emerge in life-crises…'35 Tyāgarāja's parents-

to-be seeking a sign for the future, Tyāgarāja's illness and the

intervention of a saint, the choice between submitting to the king's will

or surrendering only to Rāma, the loss of the sacred images, and the

crisis of impending death are pertinent examples of life crises

It would seem that leaders' actual lives are often shaped and

determined by root-paradigms, and that their remembered lives in

stories may become further stylized expressions of those same root-

paradigms. Turner examines the life of the twelfth century bishop,

Thomas à Becket, who, like Tyāgarāja, rejected a king's overtures. In

the case of Tyāgarāja, root-paradigms of bhakti found in the Rāmāyana,

the purānas and other narratives seem to have been active throughout

his life. His lyrics often conjure up the pan-Indian heroes of bhakti.

And his life, which seems to have adhered to these models in

dedication, became, the inore it was told, a further illustration of the

root-paradigms in more recent garb and local habitation. By imitating

the high standard, the leader becomes a good model for further

imitation in traditional societies.36

Turner believes 'such paradigms affect the form, timing, and style of

the behaviour of those who bear them. Actors who are thus guided

produce in their interaction behaviour and generate social events

which are not random, but, on the contrary, structured ..'

It is best to think of this as a heuristic insight rather than

oversimplify it into a dogma, but Turner hypothesizes that '...in

man...genotypical goals prevail over phenotypical interests, the

general good over the individual welfare'. Using metaphors drawn

from the microbiological level of life to imagine the ways traditional

cultures transmit these values and encode people with common goals,

Turner conjectures that

Root-paradigms are the cultural transliterations of genetic

codes-they represent that in the human individual as a

cultural entity which the DNA and RNA codes represent

in him as a biological entity, the species-life raised to the

more complex and symbolic organizational level of cul-

ture. Furthermore, in so far as the root-paradigms are

religious in type, they entail some aspect of self-sacrifice as

an evident sign of the ultimate predominance of group

survival over individual survival.37

An image from the life of Tyāgarāja which illustrates this altruistic

prioritization is the often recited choice Tyāgarāja made between the

heaps of jewels offered by the king and the religious tradition of

dedicated bhakti Renouncing the favours of the court and the king's

presents and entrenching himself more deeply in songs to Rāma,

praying for Rāma's immediate presence, Tyāgarāja gave up personal

gain, preferring dependence upon his Lord and the company of other

bhaktas. Of all the stories associated with Tyāgarāja's life, this one is

the most celebrated. It enacts humble but stubborn adherence to

tradition in the face of materialistic temptations; hence it serves as a

model for Hindus in the distractingly complicated modern age

We will never know Tyāgarāja's motives at the moment he rejected

King Sarabhojī's invitation. We cannnot say if the reason was bhakti

exclusiveness, pride, shyness, previous commitments, or none of these.

But we do know South India's response to the gesture. Generations

have valued it as a sign of supreme allegiance to Rāma, a stance for

freedom declaring independence from worldly reward.

The many expressions of 'meaning narrative' employing these 'root-

paradigms' are evidently a means the religious imagination employs to

reflect its regard for a noteworthy life and to infuse significance where

there is fertile ground to render it memorable and recognizable.

Sacred biography is a dramatic remembering of character in tales

evoking wonder, and echoing the lives of other saints. While outsiders

are curious as to just how conscious this tacit reference to similar

episodes in predecessors' lives may be, members of the tradition do

not seem concerned about it. Possibly ranking a great man such as

Tyāgarāja among his predecessors is an unacknowledged means of

assigning a relative weight to such a leader, and is a way of conveying

his musical genius and spiritual irridescence in brief, bold, recog-

nizable strokes Hagiography is part spiritual entertainment and part

ethics, enacted in recallable anecdote.

Some anthropologists and ethnopoeticists believe that for tradi-

tional peoples, the story is not a symbol standing for or labouring to

explain something else but a celebrating which directly enacts in order

to satisfy the human desire to experience They feel that 'to experience

is to know (histor). That is, to tell about it, and to tell about it as others

have told it, is one act, simply, that the reality itself is one, now and

then'.38 That is, life stories are ways directly to occasion an experience,

to manifest it spontaneously, making it present in present lives.

One technique bartkatbā performers use to express this oneness is

to enact the idea, for example, that Tyāgarāja's life is his song, to

pretend that, literally, his story is perfectly coincidental with his songs. They suggest that devoted listeners and participants (a root meaning of bhakta) should take his songs, literally so that they may have his story. For example, if he sang 'Where can I find you?,' his life must literally have lost the focus for worship, that is, the Rāma image. The abstract metaphysical mystery of divine omnipresence is not as dramatic as a terrifying man-lion springing from a kicked pillar, or a beloved image of Rāma recovered at long last from river sands.

Later, once Tyāgarāja's life had been lived and his songs were proving their appeal and longevity, it was recognized more and more that the memory of Tyāgarāja's life could serve people as a hierophany. 'A hierophany... will tend in the religious consciousness of those who perceive it as such, to be expressed as totally, as fully as possible,' as Mircea Eliade has observed. This tendency shows 'the ability of every religious form to rise, to be purified, to become nobler'.39 Thus, as we have seen, the expansion of a holy life is not random, but intentional and teleologically determined according to the preconceived notions of what constitutes signs of a holy life. Tyāgarāja's dedicated life, with its secret perfections and flaws, matured even as it was being told into public excellences and perfections which could be sung, adored, remembered, and passed on The song-generated stories are etiological, telling how the song supposedly originated. In a sense, they also imply why Tyāgarāja was so extraordinary and, therefore, form a tacit background to bhajana enthusiasm—enacting or re-actualizing the reason participants gather even now to listen in memory of the saint.

Saints' lives have often been thematic vehicles for the promotion of spirituality; as media and messages, they have constituted a dynamic element in cultural evolution. Tyāgarāja's vīṇā and Gandhi's spinning wheel, for example, are powerful symbols for ways of peace. Picturing the creative and courageous as avatārs impresses their importance on reverent minds, enabling the fullest veneration possible. Gandhi himself spoke approvingly of the legendizing process: 'In Hinduism, incarnation is ascribed to one who has performed some extraordinary service of mankind. All embodied life is, in reality, an incarnation of God, but it is not usual to consider every living being an incarnation. Future generations pay this homage to one who, in his own generation, has been extraordinarily religious in his conduct. I can see nothing wrong in this procedure...'40 The elaboration of Tyāgarāja's legendary life, which occurred concurrently with the transmission of

his popular yet highly sophisticated songs, helped his music attain the

hegemonic stature it now enjoys in the Karnataka music arena. The

enactment in tales of the values for which he lived helped his music get

the hearing it deserved.

Tyāgarāja lived a quiet, committed life, producing more than seven

hundred exquisite songs. He seemingly lived up to the high standards

held before him by bhakti root-paradigms and taught many devoted

musicians. The people of his region remembered his life and were

touched by his songs. They took his life to heart and transmitted

traditions told by disciples and storytellers for half a century, re-

capitulating the greatness remembered in terms of the events in

previous musician-saints' lives. As time passed, the story became all

the more compelling to South Indians in this century. Indeed,

Tyāgarāja festivals are now celebrated all over the world. Three films

about his life have been made-in the past forty years, and a picture

book of his story for children is for sale in India.41 Narratives of

Tyāgarāja's life seek to characterize him, to engender character in

listeners' lives, and to satisfy a craving to imagine how an inspired sage

almost of the stature of the Vedic seers would appear in the world of

the day before yesterday, the beginning-to-be-modern world. His is

one of the lives of self-sacrifice which the living keep alive to feed and

keep in circulation the life-blood of tradition.

NOTES

(Publication details not available here may be found in the bibliography)

1. Louis S.R. Vas, 'History and Celebration,' the Indian Express, 12 July, 1981,

magazine section, p 3 Lives, when told, can become heroic symbols which

potentially empattern outlooks and actions Existentally, the human being's

involvement in the telling of life stories may be deeper than we ordinarly realize

Perhaps, as Sartre suggested, 'To comprehend Adam is to become Adam Our

comprehension of the Other is never simply contemplative it is but a moment of

our praxis, a way of living, in struggle or connivance, the concrete and human

relation that unites us to him'. Jean Paul Sartre, cited in Douglas Collins, Sartre as

Biographer (Cambridge Harvard University Press, 1980)

2. Venkataramana Bhāgavatar's palm-leaf manuscript and Krishnasvāmi Bhāgavatar's

notebook manuscript are kept at the Saurashtra Sabha in Madurai, where I had a

chance to study them. Copies were made by musicologist T S. Parthasarathy of

Madras, with whom I studied from 1980 to 1982.

3 The breast-feeding story foreshadows Tyāgarāja's later destiny; it is an early sign of

his special genius and all-consuming passion This kind of characteristic sign displayed at an early age is a fairly common feature in the lives of religious figures

At twelve, Jesus was so entranced by the discussion of law with the temple priests that he forgot to join his fellow travellers at the appointed time Confucius was so engrossed in study that he forgot to eat. Siddhārtha showed compassion for a swan

In Plato's Phaedrus, there is a story of people so enamoured of music that they do not eat; they become born as singers who need no food: cicadas

4 A manuscript purported to be the Svarānavam was published by V. Raghavan in The Music Academy Journal 'The So-Called Svarānavam', vol XXIV, 1953, pp 1–12 It seems to be largely composed of verses from other manuscripts

5. The Nādupai text is published in C. Ramanujachari and V. Raghavan, The Spiritual Heritage of Tyāgarāja, p 6

6 Tyāgarāja's pilgrimage songs are discussed by P Sambamoorthy, Great Composers, vol II Tyāgarāja, pp 74–85

7 The practice of sacred name repetition, known to Christians, Sufis, Buddhists and so on is perhaps rather foreign to modern sensibilities, which prefer the constantly new to repetition 'This practice, a feature of the Kaveri delta nāmasiddhānta tradition, holds that the constant repetition precipitates a breakthrough to 'something new' on a different scale. a vision of the divine

8. Subbarama Dīkṣitar, Sangīta Sampradāya Pradarśinī

9 A.K Ramanujan's article, 'On Women Saints in South India' contrasts patterns found with those of male saints' lives It appears in The Divine Consort Rādhā and the Goddesses of India, eds. by John S. Hawley and Donna M Wulf, pp. 316–24

10 R. Puligandla, Fundamentals of Indian Philosophy (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1975), pp 243 ff

11 Venkaṭaramaṇa Bhāgavatar may have been familiar with books which presented brief biographies of composers and selections of their works (for example, texts about and lyrics by Bhadrācala Rāmadās, Annamācārya, and Purandaradāsa) The practice of having hagiography as introductory matter to texts seems ancient Frauwallner, the Buddhist scholar, hypothesized that the earliest biography of the Buddha was in an introduction to Skandhaka, a text of monastic discipline, composed a hundred years after the Buddha's death

12. Subbarama Dīkṣitar, op. cit

13 Narasimha T Bhāgavatar, Sadguru Tyāgarājasvāmi Kīrtalanalu

14 The two brothers motif is ancient in mythology and folklore: Cain and Abel, Osiris and Seth, etc Heinrich Zimmer, Philosophies of India, Bollingen Series XXVI (Princeton: Princeton University Press, reprinted, New York. Meridian, 1956), pp 185–6. The 'good brother' and 'bad brother' motif is further developed in later tellings of the Tyāgarāja story.

15 S. Seetha, Tanjore as a Seat of Music, pp 22–3.

16. K.K. Rāmaswāmy Bhāgavatar, Śri Tyāgabrah mopaniṣat Tamil biography with some lyrics and notation.

17 L Muthia Bhāgavatar, Śrīmat Tyāgarājavijaya Kāvya. Sanskrit verse biography.

18 P. Sambamoorthy, op. cit.; S.Y. Krishnaswamy, Thyāgarāja Saint and Singer,

T S Sundaresa Sarma, Śrī Tyāgarājacarita, Viñjamurı Varaha Narasimhacaryulu, Śrī Tyāgarājaswāmı carıtra Telugu renderings generally seem to follow patterns found in Sambamoorthy’s version

19. Vidyaratna Raghavendrācārya Pañcamukhı, Śrī Purandaradāsara Jīvana Chartre

20 Goddess songs are found in C Ramanujachar1, op cit., pp 55–71

21. Sambamoorthy, op. cit , p 242

22 Liṅga Purāna, II. 1–3

23 V K Gokak, ed., A Value Orientation to our System of Education, (New Delh1 Gulab Singh and Sons, 1973), p 377 On the theme of king and brahmin relationships, interesting studies include those by A K. Coomaraswamy, Jan Heesterman, and David Shulman The king, burdened by pāpa, needś the pure brahmin, whose authority is derived from renunciation, to transfer the demerit in exchange for gifts The king buys innocence, as it were. Tyāgarāja opted out of the exchange, and is critical of those who used bhakti as a bargaining chip, and he mocks vairāgya or non-attachment which is practised for ‘the belly’s sake’ See also Narayana Rao’s article ‘Telugu Intellectuals’ Role in the Process of Social Change’ in South Asian Intellectuals and Social Change A Study of the Role of Vernacular-speaking Intelligentsia, ed Yogendra K. Malik (New Delh1 Heritage Publishers, 1982), pp 310–12 The Telugu poet Pōṭana pictures poets dedicating works to kings as panderers turning their daughters to prostitutes

24 Seetha, op cit , p 125

25 Mircea Eliade, Patterns in Comparative Religion, tr Rosemary Sheed (New York Sheed and Ward, 1958, New World Library edition, 1974), p. 188 The Sacred and the Profane The Nature of Religion, tr Willard Trask (New York Harcourt Brace, 1959), p. 129. Zarathustra and Guru Nānak, Jacob and Jesus are among the religious figures whose life stories include river episodes W H Mcleod, Guru Nānak and the Sikh Religion (Oxford Clarendon Press, 1968), pp 37, 57. For a discussion of Śaṅkara’s river episodes, see Frank Reynolds and Donald Capps, eds Biographical Process, David N Lorenzen’s ‘The Life of Śaṅkarācārya’, pp 100 ff

26 Variations on this theme are also found in other traditions emblems of righteousness exonerate the leader Consider the slick brochure published in Chile after military dictator Augusto Pinochet was nearly assassinated in 1986 It describes assassins’ bullets tattooing an impression of the protectress Virgin Mary on the windshield Miracles as propaganda—signs from God that the leader is divinely empowered—still figure in public opinion

27 This theme is found in other cultures as well. St Patrick and the Druids had a contest, each throwing their books into a river. Patrick cursed the river, and his books were spared St Columba is similarly remembered Karl Christ, The Handbook of Medieval Library History (Metuchen Scarecrow Press, 1984)

28 Rāmāyana, I 9–11, as well as the Mahābbārata, 3(33)113 10, tell of the ascetic Risya Śṛiṅga’s magico-religious power to bring down rain, associated with his seduction by a woman

29 Atiya Begum Fyzee-Rahamin, The Music of India (London Luzac & Co , 1925), pp 88–9.

30 Sambamoorthy, op cit The perpetual light of divine order, dharma, depends upon

the spiritual leader who dedicates his all to the Lord and renews the religion Like a

cakravartin in Buddhism, or like the messiah who is to restore order to Israel, the

musician restores the lost well-being through the magical power of his song Light

symbolism is also found in Sufism in the concept of Muhammad's pre-existent light,

nūr mubammadī, and in mystical Christianity. See also A.K. Coomaraswamy,

Selected Papers, vol 2, p 154.

31 Milton Singer, Traditional India Structure and Change, pp.99–105 In societies in

which people do not commonly believe in transmigration and divine incarnations,

associations with previous leaders may remain unconscious or in metaphor form.

For example, in America, a senator may remark that Lincoln was 'born as humbly as

the Son of God, in a hovel, and reared in poverty, finally elevated to supreme

command' and that he saved the system of government based on freedom, 'and, like

the Son of God, was crucified for his service to humanity,' as Senator C Wayland

Brooks did in 1942 Tradition-minded societies are concerned with recognitions

continuous with the past, not a search for the new. Americans may think of

Washington chopping down his cherry tree with his hatchet and not being able to

lie, and then of 'Honest Abe' the railsplitter with his axe, but do not really link their

likenesses.

32 Tyāgarāja's taking samnyāsin vows is quite significant. It is seen by some as decisive

for his becoming a saint There is a logical conclusion and symmetry to this. in

childhood he was saved by a renunciate, as a fully matured man he becomes a

renunciate saint able to save others-the spiritually ill and the immature. It shows

that the bhakti path he followed included not only samnyāsin values but also the

samnyāsa āśrama Raghavan criticizes the 'crude mythologists' who tried to fabricate

reasons for his vows in the introduction to Spiritual Heritage of Tyāgarāja

33 Charlotte Vaudeville, Kabīr, vol I (Oxford. Clarendon Press, 1974), pp. 46–7

John Clark Archer, Nānak Factual and Formless. (Princeton. Princeton University

Press, 1946) Vaudeville shows how Kabīr's legendary life is of a piece with the long

established patterns of Indian hagiography, including a saint's prediction and

blessing of his birth, a parthogenous birth (he is found at a lake), refusal to bow to

the sultan, a miraculous survival despite attacks, temptations resisted, and a

mysterious death. Archer cites Mohan Singh's discussion of the process by which a

bhagat, or saint's life story, is deified. In A K Ramanujan's essay in The Divine

Consort (p 323) a scheme of usual episodes includes an early life of ease, loss and

awakening, conversion or initiation by a guru, defiance of social norms, defeating

other religions, founding a sect, and merging with God—a number of which

overlap with Tyāgarāja's life patterns

34. Herbert Fingarette, Confucius The Secular as Sacred (New York: Harper and Row,

1972. Communists have eliminated the Confucian system of models, but not the

method of value inculcation In modern China, children learn roles by imitating

'Uncle' Lei Fang, the ideal revolutionary youth, through imitative narratives, as was

recently illustrated in the PBS series on China entitled 'Heart of the Dragon'. On

the other hand, hearing of others' antisocial deeds can also spur tragic imitation:

news stories of teenage suicides and tamperings such as the Tylenal poisonings seem

to produce a 'copycat' effect The transmission of mimetic ideas through narrative

deserves more study.

35 Reynolds and Capps, op. cit. Victor Turner, ‘Religious paradigms and political action...’ p 156. In the introduction to this book, the editors discuss issues concerning sacred biography, myth and history, the relations of individuals’ lives, and psychological and cultural patterns, citing important scholarly work done in these areas.

36 Steven T Katz, ed. Mysticism and Religious Traditions (New York. Oxford University Press, 1983), has written about ‘The “Conservative” Character of Mystical Experience,’ arguing that mystical movements often have a model of an ideal practitioner whose life provides an ‘instantiation’ of the proper attitude and practice to be imitated, is an existential representation of the tradition, demonstrates the lived reality of the doctrinal truth, is proof of the continuing presence of the truth of the tradition, is a critique of attitudes and practices and sets a standard of perfection, is a bridge between the above and below, is a moral paradigm, etc., pp 43–6 Tyāgarāja fits a number of these patterns

37 Reynolds and Capps, op.cit., p 158–9.

38 Jerome and Diane Rothenberg, eds., Symposium of the Whole (Berkeley University of California Press, 1983) Charles Olson cited

39. Mircea Eliade, Myths, Dreams and Mysteries, tr. P. Mairet, (New York. Harper & Row, 1960) Eliade speaks of ‘ ... a very general human tendency. to hold up one life-history as a paradigm and turn a historical personage into an archetype’, p. 32.

40. Mahadev Desai, ed. tr. The Gospel of Selfless Action, or the Gita According to Gandhi (Ahmedabad: Navajivan Publishers, 1970), p 128

41. Anant Pai, ed. Tyagaraja The Saint Who Sung [sic] His Way to the Feet of the Lord (Bombay India Book House Education Trust, 1981). This children’s picture book is in the Amar Chitra Katha Series

CHAPTER TWO

Tyāgarāja’s Roots in Regional History and the Cultural Continuum

“The more a poet sings in his genealogical tree the truer his accent will be; the more he concentrates the more useful he

The Telugu Smārta Brahmin: Family and Community Background

YĀGARĀJA, according to all the stories of his life, was born in Tiruvarur, a village in Thanjavur District. Though the date of his birth was disputed for some time,2 scholars now generally agree that he was born on May 4, 1767. It is also generally agreed that his family had migrated to Thanjavur from Kakarla village in what became the Cumbum Taluk of Kurnool District in Andhra Pradesh, sometime during the Nayak rule, which ended in 1673. During the seventeenth century, when the Nayaks were regional viceroys in the southern provinces of the waning Vijayanagar empire, many culturally creative Telugu-speaking people—pundits, poets, and musicians—were migrating to Thanjavur where there was an abundance of rice and support from the Telugu-speaking Nayaks.3

Telugu brahmins are divided into two classes: the more secular niyogis, often the authors of Telugu poetry and known to be as enterprising in business as the proverbially astute Tamil businessman;

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

31

and the vaidikīs, of whom Tyāgarāja was one, knowledgeable in Sanskrit literature, the ecclesiastical class which usually earns its livelihood through priestly work. Telugu brahmins living in Thanjavur have generally had a reputation for being conservative, quiet, and respectable.4

Telugu brahmins also have 'house names' (intipēerulu), and Tyāgarāja mentions his—Kakarla—in the introductory verses of his Naukā Caritram. The migration of the murikināḍu brahmins, of which Tyāgarāja's ancestors were a part, took place, as mentioned above, during the Nayak reign in South India.5

It is significant that Tyāgarāja was born into a family of smārta brahmins. Unlike the territorial divisions of brahmins (such as murikināḍu), smārta is a designation which characterizes certain brahmins from various parts of India. There are Telugu smārta brahmins, Gujarāti smārta brahmins, and Tamil smārta brahmins, for example. In South India, 'Ayyar' is added to smārta personal and family names; and, accordingly, Tyāgarāja is sometimes called 'Tyāga Ayyar'. (Tamil Vaiṣṇavas often add 'Ayyangār' to their names. It is said that the Tamil Ayyangārs, by and large, converted from the vadama subcaste of smārta brahmins. There is evidence that there was bitter rivalry between Ayyars and Ayyangārs in Tamil Nadu during the nineteenth century and before.) Present-day descendants of the family of which Tyāgarāja was a part continue to follow smārta traditions, including the wearing of three horizontal lines of sacred ash across their foreheads.6

The smārtas are not part of the sectarian groupings in which many non-Indians have come to conceive of and classify Hindus; they are neither sectarian Vaiṣṇavas nor Śaivas and they are not affiliated with tantric sects. They perform rites and follow customs enjoined by smṛti scriptures, traditional 'remembered' texts such as the Law Book of Manu, and the Gṛhyasūtras. They do not keep all the śrauta rites of Vedic sacrifice.7 Their metaphysical view is that the individual soul is ultimately not separate from Brahman, the infinite reality of pure consciousness into which the soul is ultimately reabsorbed after illusory experiences are transcended through mokṣa, or release. As a group following Śaṅkara's teachings, the smārtas recognize the five deities (pañcāyatana): Viṣṇu, Śiva, the Goddess (Śakti), Gaṇeśa, and Surya (plus a sixth, Kumāra) as manifestations of the Supreme Being. These

32

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

divine forms are helpful to the worshipper though they are also considered to be periodically absorbed into the formless ultimate reality. Thus, the smārtas differ from members of sects who do not conceive of the different forms as equally adorable manifestations, and who believe ultimate reality is personal and that souls are never fully absorbed but exist eternally in relation to the divine. While some smārtas chose to worship a form of Viṣṇu, such as Rāma or Krishna, as their iṣṭadevatā (favourite form of the Supreme Being), others worship Śiva, the Goddess, Gaṇeśa, or Surya. From ancient times smārta brahmins, as the derivation of their name suggests, have been known as carriers of smṛti, the law codes and customs handed down since time immemorial. They seem to have played the role of creative synthesizers who, in classical times, assimilated non-brahmin devotional practices and added them to their own traditional rituals, ultimately developing bhakti practices which spread thoughout India. For example, they are thought to have been the pre-Gupta preservers of purāṇic legends, who served in temples and who recast the old stories in Sanskrit to glorify their deities.8 They were active in the process of bhakti's Sanskritization, giving local and folk traditions an orthodox aura through association with high caste activities and the classical sacred language, and they were also mediators of an exchange which gave non-brahmins more religious access to Hindu traditions. They are thought of as stable tradition-bearers, yet were innovators who popularized brahminic teachings and ideals among lower twice-born* castes, women and śūdras, and promoted Vedic ideas among Vaiṣṇava and Śaiva worshippers. It is said that they shaped and reshaped purāṇic texts, responding to change—the heterodox challenges, tantra movements, and societal disintegration—and that their ancient-rooted yet forward-looking philosophy had a harmonizing effect in that it 'toned down the sectarian bitterness which Pañcarātra and Āgamic [Vaiṣṇava and Śaiva] conflict tended to produce'.9

Although the smārta tradition is advaitin or monistic in its outlook, following the great advaitin Śaṅkara (c. eighth century AD), lay smārtas have long been associated with bhakti culture. The Vedāntist teacher Rāmānuja (eleventh century) and his earliest

• 'Twice-born' means those initiated through the upanayana rite, for which brahmins, kṣatriyas and vaiśyas were eligible 'Lower twice-born' are vaiśyas, for example, since brahmins are of a higher caste.

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

33

followers began as smārtas, though they converted and made a great

impact on sectarian Vaiṣṇavism.10 Acalānandadāsa (c. fifteenth cen-

tury) was a smārta, though he is associated with the founding of the

dāsakūṭa sampradāya of Vaiṣṇavism. Annamācārya, (sixteenth century)

the prolific poet-composer of Telugu lyrical praise, was a smārta who

was formally initiated into Vaiṣṇavism. The smārtas are anomalous—

though they may be seen as a sect like other sects, they have a certain

freedom which offers leeway for change, and can choose to either

become strict and fervently committed Vaiṣṇavas, or to open liber-

ating horizons for the devotions of a variety of others. Perhaps the

advaita concept of the supreme reality beyond form gives more ample

philosophical space for creative movement than narrower, more

exclusive doctrines. Smārtas follow the pattern set by Śaṅkara which

seems to have been intended to maximize the potential for an all-India

Hinduism, as opposed to a Hinduism fragmented by sects and

regions. That is, Śaṅkara, sensing the need to define Hindu identity,

asserted some common beliefs and practices which Hindus could

agree they shared, despite regional and communal diversity. Nev-

ertheless, in Tamil Nadu during Tyāgarāja's time, it was usual for

Tamil smārtas and Telugu smārtas to live in separate communities,

often clustering together in different villages. This fact suggests that

the two groups did not co-operate with each other but depended on

different sources of patronage. In Thanjavur during the eighteenth

and nineteenth centuries, Telugu smārtas were often employed as

household priests by non-brahmins, and their status was lower than

that of Tamil brahmins.11

A number of well-known smārta brahmins of South India have been

associated with nāmasiddhānta (literally, 'the doctrine of, or, per-

fection in, the divine Name'), a bhakti tradition in which devotees

practise the repetition of the Lord's name12 with the singing of musical

praise. Tyāgarāja's father, Rāma Brahmam, a pundit who is said to

have recited the Rāmāyaṇa at the Thanjavur court, and Tyāgarāja's

guru, the wandering sannyāsin Rāmakrishnānanda, were devotees of

the Name. A number of the earlier composers in whose footsteps

Tyāgarāja followed were Telugu smārta brahmins who promoted the

praise of holy names. Nārāyaṇa Tīrtha, author of the Krishna-

līlātaranginī, Sadāśiva Brahmendra, the mysterious Jīvanmukta

('liberated while alive'), the saintly poet-composer who roamed naked

during Śāhajī's reign, Bodhendra Sadguru Svāmi, the great promoter

of nāmasiddhānta, and Melaṭṭūr Veṅkaṭaramaṇa Śāstri, composer of

dance-dramas, (including one on Prahlāda) were all South Indian

advaitins who practised bhakti through mantra and japa (repetition of

sacred formula syllables and prayerful utterance of the divine names)

and enthusiastically encouraged music devoted to various names of the

divine. Tyāgarāja's contemporary, Śrī Sadguru Svāmi, organized the

bhajana sampradāya programme of devotional singing and founded a

'lay math' to initiate householders into the practice of nāmasiddhānta's

repetition of the divine name. Some of these bhaktas especially

worshipped Vaiṣṇava avatārs; Bodhendra and Sadāśiva Brahmendra

were smārta brahmin nāmasiddhānta leaders devoted to the name of

Śiva. But all of them also composed some works in praise of deities

other than their iṣṭadevatās or encouraged such praise. From this

attitude, which is more than mere tolerance of variety but rather a

celebration of different possible names for the ultimately ineffable

formless reality, it would seem that in nāmasiddhānta some of the

usual sect distinctions, which make for convenient categorization,

such as devotion to either Viṣṇu or Śiva, do not apply so strictly. It is

significant that Tyāgarāja was a Telugu smārta in Tamil country His

language was a limited medium but his expansive outlook and musical

genius, with expressions of bhakti to a variety of divine forms (though

the majority of his songs are to Rāma), proved in the long run

appealing to many Tamilians. Through such smārtas as Tyāgarāja,

cultural strands intersect and sects 'share' each other's cultures; in the

philosophical space provided by smārta monism, separate communi-

ties find common ground, and there is a development of conditions

and rationales for holding together an expansive spirit which gives

permission and encouragement for new creative possibilities. For

example, dynamic developments in tantra were not shunned, but were

adapted to bhakti faith and philosophy. The conservative South Indian

in need of change is assured that this 'new' contemporaneous

movement is continuous with orthopraxy as it has always been

known—the gatekeepers of tradition, the smārta brahmins, vouch for

it.

As previously mentioned, Telugu smārta brahmins usually wear

three horizontal streaks of sacred ash (as Śaṅkara is pictured wearing

in paintings) or one streak of sandalwood paste on their foreheads.

Tyāgarāja and some others associated with the bhajana tradition in

South India (for instance, Sadguru Svāmi, the exponent of bhajana

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

35

sampradāya) departed from their families' custom and did not wear

horizontal lines. Instead they are usually pictured with the markings of

the haridāsas—vertical Vaiṣṇava lines or nāmam—because of their

participation in the bhāgavatar practices of leading group singing and

promoting congregational devotion. Though brahmins, they have

become associated with bhāgavatars, who in earlier centuries were

Vaiṣṇavas of a lower caste than the brahmins. Tyāgarāja and Sadguru

Svāmi did not, however, make the title 'bhāgavatar' an official part of

their names Usually Tyāgarāja is not called a dāsa or bhāgavatar by the

learned, because formally he was neither, though he admired and

praised haridāsa saints and bhāgavatars for their intense bhakti 13

Tyāgarāja derives his authority and prestige in large part from his

ardent piety, not because he was a member of a certain caste or

sectarian grouping. One form this life of commutation took is well

symbolized by the traditional portraits of Tyāgarāja in haridāsa

markings and costume. One scholar described Tyāgarāja in one of

these portraits as having eyes full of mystic longing and wearing 'the

meagre attire of a baribhakta vowed to mendicancy'. 14 This baribhakta

mendicancy is also sometimes called the way of an uñchavrtti

bhāgavatar—a 'gleaner-preacher' or strolling singer of praise and

conscience who lives on alms. P. Sambamoorthy draws attention to

this aspect of Tyāgarāja's life, noting that Tyāgarāja 'maintained his

family and the large number of his disciples and visitors through

uñchavrtti'. Sambamoorthy writes that Tyāgarāja went out each week,

singing and receiving alms, and sometimes was 'invited to perform

uñchavrtti bhajanas in neighbouring places like Kalyanapuram,

Karuntattangudi, and Manambuchavadi'. Further, he says that the

career of uñchavrtti is one of austerity, rigour, hardship, and dis-

cipline and that it is one of the holiest means of livelihood, or vrttis.

Uñchavrtti bhāgavatars, known for both learning and piety, are said to

spend their afternoons and nights giving religious discourses. 'They

were satpātras (deserving and virtuous persons who sang in the

streets), to whom grhasthas (householders) voluntarily gave rice, dhāl,

and other food In his song Ennālīu tirigedī, Tyāgarāja asks, "How long

must I wander like this in samsāra, worried about tomorrow's meals? I

must get all my necessities, from camphor to salt, posing as a big man

to others". 15 This particular song may indicate Tyāgarāja's conflicts in

making a living as a professional bhakta. Nevertheless, from the overall

story of his life, it would seem that Tyāgarāja, through the practice of

36 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

uñchavṛitti, opted out of the syndrome which kept other brahmins allied to the king to eke out a living.

The Cultural Background—Nayaks and Marathas

A sketch of the historical background will help us place Tyāgarāja further in his time and region. In 1565 the Andhra-based Vijayanagar empire broke into fragments. The Vijayanagar rulers (whose policies had been influenced by advaita and smārta scholar advisors), had recovered most of South India from the Muslims who had conquered the earlier Hindu Chola dynasty. When the Vijayanagar empire fragmented, the Telugu-speaking generals, who had been commanding at Thanjavur and Madurai as viceroys, became independent rulers of those regions. Asserting their new autonomous power, they engaged in cultural activities such as the building of temples and expanding their patronage of Telugu and Kannada artists. As Telugu speakers in Tamil country, they understandably supported familiar cultural expressions and religious activities which would lend them more prestige and legitimacy. In Thanjavur, where Tamil was the mother tongue of most, the Nayaks fostered Telugu learning and supported writers of what has been called the ‘Southern School of Telugu Literature’.16 Thus, Telugu became a popular lyrical medium as a growing number of musicians, pundits, and poets migrating from Andhra looked to these rulers of the smaller southern states for support. During the next three centuries, Thanjavur would grow and gain recognition as the most musically rich region in South India.

Achyutappa Nayak ruled Thanjavur from 1565 to 1614, and then his son, Raghunatha Nayak, assumed power. In Raghunatha Nayak’s time, Thanjavur is said to have become a great centre of culture and learning, flourishing as the capital of Karnataka music at this time. (It was also at this time, incidentally, that Hindustani music and Karnataka music became more and more divergent.) Despite his duties as a general waging battles against Muslims, Portuguese, and rebellious Hindus, Raghunatha is credited with composing a Telugu prabandha, a musical work entitled Pārijātâpaharaṇa (‘Robbery of the Tree of Paradise’) and other literary works, including an entire Telugu Rāmāyaṇa, the authorship of which is in dispute. The Nayaks of Thanjavur wrote and promoted the writing of high-quality yakṣagānas

or narratives in song.17 The Nayaks' policies were in part formed in

consultation with smārta and other advaitin advisers; in the lists of

officials and scholars associated with and patronized by the court,

many Ayyars and Dīkṣitars (who are advaitic in philosophy) are

found.18

The Maratha rulers, who defeated the Nayaks, began their reign of

Thanjavur in 1684. They also sponsored musicians and musicologists

and composed musical works themselves. Śāhajī II (ruling from 1684

to 1710), it is said, was encouraged by smārta saints such as Sadāśiva

Brahmendra, Śrīdhara Ayyāvāl, and Śrī Bodhendra to tolerate diver-

sity and to use music to uphold and strengthen Hindu religious

culture.19 Śāhajī II is credited with composing more than a thousand

padas (songs) himself, five hundred in Telugu and many in Marathi.

These songs are in simple language, invoking divine names, with

purāṇic references and depicting dramatic bhakti situations. V.

Raghavan and P. Sambamoorthy have said that Tyāgarāja's grand-

father was Giriāaja Kavi, a composer of Telugu musical pieces in the

courts of Śāhajī II and his successor Sarabhojī I.20 However, other

scholars, such as S. Seetha, have presented substantial evidence that

the Telugu brahmin Girirāja Kavi, whose father was Aubalanna, is not

the same as Giriāaja Brahmam, whose father was Pañcanada Brah-

mam21 and one of whose sons was Rāma Brahmam, Tyāgarāja's father

That Giriāaja Brahmam was a Sanskrit pundit, musicologist, and

possibly a composer in his own right,22 and the fact that Tyāgarāja's

father was a pundit and reciter of the Rāmāyaṇa at the Thanjavur

court is significant. As Daniel H.H. Ingalls has said,

Where we have the particulars of a Sanskrit author's life

we almost always find that he came from a family of

authors. This holds true of poets... just as it does of

critics... and philosophers...One infers that it was rare for

a man from an unlearned family to move into the charmed

circle of literature. The legends of sudden divine ins-

piration... may well have been invented to explain the rare

exceptions...23

There is evidence to show that in Tyāgarāja's time the music

profession was not as highly respected by the highly orthodox as some

of the other professions which brahmins might enter, probably

38

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

because of its association with the praise of mortals and secular eroticism, as well as its association with musicians and dancers of śūdra (lower caste) status. Tyāgarāja was in a position to inherit Sanskritic learning and musicology from within his own family but unlike his father and music guru, he rejected patronage from the court of Sarabhojī II, ruler of Thanjavur at the time. It is said that Tyāgarāja's efforts and purity of motivation led to increased respect for professional musicians in South India.

The Thanjavur court in Tyāgarāja's time kept more than three hundred music pundits busy performing, teaching, and writing. A large number of these professional musicians are listed with the name 'Ayyar', indicating that they were smārtas.24 Evidence suggests that Thanjavur had been the site of intense activity in music and dance from ancient times during the Chera, Chola, and Pandya rules.

Vijayanagar, Nayak, and Maratha patrons were continuing an age-old system of supporting performers, reciters of Sanskrit classics, and pundits who taught and wrote treatises on musical and other branches of knowledge. Individual professional musicians who specialized in certain instruments and musical forms competed, and some, with highly developed specialized skills in certain forms, such as pallavi singing, won fame in the courts. Simultaneously, indigenous folk music flourished in homes, fields, and the lanes which linked them, where Tyāgarāja would have passed workers whose burdens were made more bearable with melodies. There were celebrations of many annual religious festivals with song, dance and spectacle. Women and peasants sang their perennial folk songs, marking significant events such as marriage and planting and harvest, reflecting a deep, age-old agricultural knowledge of nature, and reciting information about the cyclic patterns of life.25 Bhakti music's fervent strains also filled the air, including songs by Āndāl and Māṇikkavācakar and by Bhadrācala Rāmadās and Annamācārya. Since the fifteenth century when the haridāsas initiated a wave of bhakti from Kannada country, songs of Purandaradāsa and others were carried to Thanjavur by itinerant musicians and holy men. Bhāgavatars sang and expounded bhakti, nāmasiddhānta enthusiasts spread their practices by way of music, and maths were established for the dissemination of bhakti practices and teachings. With a wealth of artistic forms and modes of performance, including padas, yakṣagānas, dance dramas and ballads, and with both instrumental court music and ecstatic bhakti bhajans sung by devotees

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

39

in groups, Thanjavur was a vibrantly creative cultural centre until around the time of Tyāgarāja's death, and the decline and end of royal patronage.26 Tyāgarāja and the other two members of the 'trinity' of Karnataka music signal the peak of musical creativity in Thanjavur.

From that time onward, the concert musician depended upon public support, and though cultural centres such as Madras city, with its rich merchants, grew in importance as time went on, Thanjavur remained a stronghold preserving and transmitting traditional Karnātaka music.

Regional Background—The Kaveri Delta

Of these territories, the Rajaship of Tanjore is the most fertile—it is watered by a multiplicity of streams, which, by means of embankments and reservoirs are diverted into every field;—it annually affords two or three luxuriant crops of rice;—the forests abound with valuable trees;—the country is overstocked with sheep and cattle;—and formerly teemed with an industrious race, who were expert in agriculture, and habituated to manufacture;—while such are the natural benefits it enjoys that no spot upon the globe is superior in productions for the use of man.27

In India, 'when and where there was reliable moisture for irrigated agriculture, the largest concentrations of population were found, the greatest wealth, the most social and cultural elaborations. There too, were the settlements of Brahmins'.28 These settlements were the source of transmission of the orthodox Hindu way of life, providing societal cohesion and status rationale. For ages the brahmins have been the religious guardians of access to community status and authority, providing a metaphysical framework for the Hindu order of society as laid down in the books of dharma, the smrti In South India, the Kaverī delta and the Kṛṣṇa-Godavari delta, and the Coromandel plain between, from the seventh century onward, have together constituted a region that has been the South's 'greatest variant of Aryan civilization…' as Burton Stein has noted. 'Here in the Coromandel rural setting of the Pallava period [AD 800–1300], Sanskrit and

minical knowledge were firmly established, [here] the bulk of the Brahmin custodians of this knowledge lived... and a large population of peasants lent their support to the maintenance of this culture.'29

Brahmin land-grant settlements were called brahmadeyas. A good portion of the income generated by brahmadeyas was gifted by written agreement to the brahmin inhabitants. Brahmins who were temple custodians, teachers, culturally creative scholars and artists inhabited and sometimes rented out plots of land which they had been granted. The temples of the region were centres for bhakti activities but functioned in the social and agrarian systems as well, and hence brahmins often had not only ritual authority but also some secular authority They recognized the local chiefs, who in turn honoured them.

In the medieval Chola dynasty, 'local South Indian society's keystone was the alliance between Brahmins with secular authority and dominant peasants,' or vellālars. These two poles of power were unchallenged for a long time by the kṣatriya (warrior caste) institution which was so strong in the north. Very many inscriptions on temple walls testify to this 'voluntary and mutually beneficial alliance between Brahmin and peasants' which existed for many generations.30 These symbiotic caste relationships continued on to a certain extent even when the British came and some of the more readily educable brahmins whose families had already been administrators for generations became the colonizers' dependable civil servants, mediating the imposed foreign rule. In fact, what is now the Thanjavur District, an area of 3,205 square miles, including the Kaveri delta, was historically defenceless against invaders precisely because it lacked an indigenous warrior caste's military might to preserve the region's independence. Again and again, Thanjavur lost her autonomy to outsiders—to Vijayanagar rulers and Nayaks from Andhra Pradesh in the north-east, to Maratha rulers from the area to the north-west, to Muslims from Mysore, and to the British from beyond the sea, centred at Fort St George. A recent study shows that from AD 1350 to 1700, sectarian Vaiṣṇava temples played a part in forming a pan-regional network uniting religious and political concerns, mediating between kings from outside the region and the local people; sectarian leaders were instrumental in giving ritual honours and power to the rulers, and redistributing material resources.31 In the period following, during Tyāgarāja's time and after, the British made use of already

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

41

existing administrative networks, and employed literate brahmins who

were familiar with administration, apportionment, and record-keep-

ing. Among Telugu brahmins it was the niyogis, who had been village

accountants for generations, who often played these intermediary

roles.

Besides being mediators between the segments of the state and the

absentee landlord rulers, and beyond their roles as the spiritual leaders

of peasants and advisers and legal representatives of kings, some

brahmins (often smārta vaidıkıs, rather than nıyogıs), played important

parts as carriers of culture, as teachers, scholars, poets, and artists The

rice-rich Kaveri basin area therefore became a cultural core to which

people in outlying areas looked for their centre. Sacred towns pepper

the landscape of the Kaveri delta region. Kumbakonam, the old Chola

capital, home of temples and a math (monastery-seminary) estab-

lished by Saṅkara, is a smārta stronghold where many brahmins live;

the city of Thanjavur is the capital, where Bṛhadīśvara, one of the

greatest temples in the south was buılt. Srirangam is the holy island in

the Kaveri with an immense temple, which was for many years the

centre of activity for the reformer of Vaiṣṇavism, Rāmānuja (d. 1137).

Thanjavur District is strewn with holy temple towns, where god-

studded man-made mountainlike temples rise from the green sheaves

of rice and palm and plaintain trees. These towns are known for

sanctity, learning and culture. Not least among them is Tiruvaiyaru, a

village where the Kaveri spreads out 'like a peacock's tail' and invites

pilgrims to bathe in purifying waters and Tiruvarur, a town with a

mystique centuries old.

Tiruvarur—Tyāgarāja's Birthplace

In a sense, the name ‘Tyāgarāja’ is a reference to Tiruvarur, where

Tyāgarāja the bhakti poet and composer was born. The great Śaiva

temple there, famous throughout South India, is dedicated to the

worship of Śiva as Tyāgesá or Tyāgarāja, an ascetic yogi figure. The

town has been associated with music and musicians for centuries.

Around the time that Tyāgarāja the musician was born there, in the

eighteenth century, the two other members of the famous trinity of

South Indian music were also born in Tiruvarur.

The sacredness of Tiruvarur is recognizable in the Tamil proverb

42

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

which asserts that to be born in Tiruvarur, also known as Kamala ('the lotus'), is liberation, and to die in Kailasa (Siva's celestial realm and an epithet of the Andhra temple town of Kalahasti) is to achieve complete liberation. The Siva image in the temple at Tiruvarur is said to be the divine talisman originally obtained from Visnu by Indra as a numinous boon to ensure victory in his cosmic war with the demons.32 This sacred image is considered to be especially powerful and has been associated for centuries with musical inspiration. Sāhaji I, the Maratha king of Thanjavur from 1684 to 1712, would never eat his midday meal until a message had been relayed by bells signalling that noon worship in the temple had been completed.

Tiruvaiyaru—Sacred to Siva

and the Home of Brahmins

Tyāgarāja's family moved from Tiruvarur to Tiruvaiyaru, a centre of Vedic and Tamil culture twenty miles away, when Tyāgarāja was still a child. One geographical feature of the village of Tiruvaiyaru, for which it is well-known, is that all of the five branches of the Kaveri river flow within five miles of its precincts.

There are seven shrines (Saptasthānam) within three miles of Tiruvaiyaru, the chief of which is the Tiruvaiyaru temple dedicated to Ālkondār ('He who protects men'), known as the Pañcanadīsvara ('Lord of the five rivers') temple. The Tamil saints Appar (seventh century), Sambandhar, and Sundaramūrti (eighth century) wrote hymns dedicated to the deity there. Tiruvaiyaru was also famous as a centre of Sanskrit learning and as the resort of Thanjavur rajas.33 Some scholars, such as M.S. Ramaswamy Ayyar, have hypothesized that Tyāgarāja's father moved the family to Tiruvaiyaru to provide Tyāgarāja with better Sanskrit schooling. They suggest that it was at the Raja's Sanskrit school there in Tiruvaiyaru that Tyāgarāja first studied the Rāmāyana, a text which played a large part in shaping his devotion and art.34

As we have seen, Tyāgarāja's father was honoured with the gift of a home and land there by King Tulajāji II, who ruled from 1763 to 1787. This modest but comfortable home where Tyāgarāja is said to have lived still stands there on Tirumanjana Street, and is open to visitors during the annual Tyāgarāja arādhana festival. As the building was partitioned with half given to Tyāgarāja'a brother, the half preserved

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

43

as a memorial to Tyāgarāja is long and narrow in shape. The house is

on a quiet street quite close to the Kaveri river where people still often

go to bathe and pray.

This village, and the sub-region in which it is located, was a

prestigious and auspicious place for a bhakta to live. A passage in the

Bhāgavata Purāṇa states that 'in the Kali Age there will be devotees of

Nārāyaṇa... in great numbers everywhere in Tamil country' where

three rivers—one of them the 'holy Kaveri'—flow, the waters of which

'are drunk by the people, devotees of pure heart generally to the

Blessed Lord Vāsudeva'.35 The Kaveri, also known as Ponni, 'the Lady

of Gold,' is venerated as the source of brilliance in learned brahmins

here; villagers say her waters 'smoothen stones and hone minds'. On

the material level, the delta region is rich because of plentiful water for

irrigation; some canals are at least a millenium old. Brahminic

literature asserts that there were innumerable expressions of high

culture here from ancient times onward because of the sacred waters

of the Kaveri. For Hindus, the Kaveri is not only a river, but also a

goddess, whose form is 'liquid śakti,' divine energy which gives and

refines life. Hence, the delta region has long been known in terms of

religio loci, the numinous sanctity of the place. Songs in the epic

Cilappadikāram praise the Kaveri as nurturer and beautiful protector

of the people, a goddess who in turn is empowered by the king.36 A

Chola inscription in Kanyakumari, at India's southernmost tip,

celebrates the Kaveri as flowing on the earth with the same nectar of

immortality as the gods won when they and the demons churned the

ocean of milk.37 A Tamil saying joins music, the river and bliss in a

fitting association: 'To be on the banks of the river Kaveri while

drinking in tunes of the Rāga Sāveri—is to taste eternal bliss'.

Tyāgarāja spent his long and productive life in this location renowned

for its natural charm.

Charlotte Vaudeville wrote that 'all Indian saints [including Kabīr,

about whom she was writing], were supposed to have travelled far and

wide'38 While South Indian saints such as Nammālvār (ninth century),

Kṣētrayya (seventeenth century), and Muttusvāmī Dīkṣitār, Tyāgarāja's

contemporary, are known for their travels, Tyāgarāja is the one Indian

saint who is probably more remembered for not having travelled

much, and for being rather unenthusiastic about pilgrimages: 'When

ten million rivers shimmer on Rāma's bow tip, why wander and

roam, O mind?' he asks in Koṭinadulu (It is true that this name

'Rāma's bow tip' may refer to a sacred shrine at the southern tip of

India, but I think the song is not meant to be ironical as much as it is

intended to celebrate the presence of Rāma wherever one already is.

Perhaps it was written in the same spirit as the Manusmrti text which

states that if one is not at odds with the divine dwelling in the heart,

one need not visit holy sites such as the Ganges or Kurukshetra )39

Many other poets, including the North Indian Kabīr and the Saiva

saint Basavaṇṇa, wrote verses critical of external travels and in favour

of undistracted praise and contentment. Tyāgarāja seems to have

followed his own advice. Unlike Purandaradāsa, the bardāsa saint of

Kannada country who is often pictured strolling, and unlike the

legendary Nārada, the archetypal ambulatory musician who forever

roams around the cosmos singing Viṣṇu's praise, Tyāgarāja is usually

pictured as sitting with his eyes closed, attention turned inward in

meditation, rapt in devotion to Rāma's name, with his tambūra on his

lap. He is pictured in his own shrine room, overwhelmed by visions of

Rāma. He is known for celebrating in song his village and the Kaveri

river which flowed nearby:

O Rāma, isn't this joy!

To have found a town so beautiful,

One fit for Śiva to wish to see?

Isn't this joy, that you have found a temple,

Where uniquely gentle fragrant breezes blow,

On the Kaveri river bank

With skylines of handsome rooftops,

Pleasing to the eyes, and with plenty

of Vedic chanting in the air,

and agnihotras being performed by brahmins —

Isn't this joy?40

Though it is true that Tyāgarāja undertook a journey to Tirupati in

Andhra Pradesh when he was very old, even this was done reluctantly

and at the specific behest of the aged religious leader, Upaniṣad

Brahmam, who had been a schoolmate of his father. This head of the

Kanchipuram math, a composer in his own right, and a scholar who

earned his first name by writing learned commentaries to all one

hundred and eight major Upaniṣads, through his insistence did induce

Tyāgarāja to travel. But even so Tyāgarāja’s tour of parts north seems

to have been rather brief.

As we shall see, the Thanjavur region, including Tīruvayaru, was

disturbed by political convulsions and war during Tyāgarāja’s early

life, yet the overall impression conveyed by Tyāgarāja’s songs and

biography is one of contentment and love for the village in which he

lived for seven decades. In normal times, Tīruvayaru, situated on the

fertile Kaverī, has been a place renowned for its natural beauty and

quiet serenity. Tyāgarāja wrote this song in praise of the Kaverī River’s

beauty:

Take a good long look at this Goddess Kaverī,

Flowing right along…

She fulfills wishes abundantly —

Regardless of who you are.

Take a good long look…

With a massive rush she gushes at one spot;

At another place she flows with perfect gracefulness;

Eagerly at another bend she dances along,

This noble jewel of a woman, Kaverī…

Take a good long look…

On both her banks clusters of pious priests

Revere her, praising her as the one called

‘Rājarājeśvarī,’ offering her the jāḷī buds

They toss; she is praised by Tyāgarāja!

Take a good long look…41

Beyond this reputation for charm, Tiruvaiyaru is considered to

possess 'a peculiar sanctity and is for that reason largely inhabited by

Brahmins, who make up over one third of the population'.42 In the

latter part of the eighteenth century, the missionary Schwartz wrote

that it would have been easy to gather 100,000 young brahmins in

Thanjavur city,43 and earlier this century, it was noted that there were

as many as three times the number of brahmins in this area as there

were in most other parts of India

Because they possessed the productivity to maintain a

large leisure class and were the centres of government, the

heartlands were believed to have had the steepest social

stratification in terms of the highest percentages of tenant

serfs and agricultural slaves rather than of peasant owners

at the base of the society, and the highest percentage of

non-cultivating land managers at the top. Because of the

division of functions, bureaucratization and ceremonialism

have historically been more pronounced in the heartlands,

they were hypothesized to have more Brahmins than other

regions. And because they had more agricultural slaves

historically, they were hypothesized to have a higher

percentage of members of the scheduled castes.44

The alluvial fertility of this well-watered delta region has made it one

of the most important rice-growing areas in India and accounts in part

for its ability to support one of the largest populations in Tamil Nadu.

Much of the labour was done by the untouchables, who made up forty

per cent of the population, while the five to ten per cent who were

brahmins had a highly valued ritual role in the production system. The

social order and the agrarian system were unified by the Hindu world-

view articulated by the brahmins. Devotion to Śiva, Viṣṇu, Murugan

and the Goddess, expressed in songs and dramas, pūjās and gifts,

mythology and metaphysics, flourished under the brahmins' auspices

and served to unify organically the bonded labourers, veḷḷālars,

artisans and royalty.

According to a brahmin saying, Tiruvaiyaru is more sacred and

auspicious than Banaras by one-sixteenth, and this saying acts as an

enticement to pilgrims.45 The rationale for this saying is expressed in

legends and myths. In one legend it is said that a brahmin once

stopped there en route to Banaras. He was carrying his father's bones

with him, to place them in the Ganges, a time-honoured custom

requiring a journey of one thousand miles as the crow flies. When the

brahmin awoke after spending the night in Tiruvaiyaru, the bones had

miraculously been rearranged into the shape of a lingam, the symbolic

form sacred to Śiva. The brahmin took this marvel as a sign and

immersed the bones in the Kaveri, instead of proceeding to Banaras.

Just as Banaras is believed to be an auspicious place to die, so is

Tiruvaiyaru, and many brahmins have retired there, though statisti-

cally it cannot be said to rival Banaras in this respect. There is a Kaveri

River origin myth which seems to echo the origin myth of the Ganges.

Sage Agastya, sent south by Śiva, carried the river Ponni in his pot.

Gaṇeśa, as a crow, caused it to spill out, and it flowed and revived

Indra's garden.46 Brahmin purāṇa writers united pan-Indian concepts

with local traditions, glorifying regional sites The bhakti movement

'tends toward the preservation of the social order through the

sanctification of the present,' as the Indologist David Shulman has

remarked.47 His study of Tamil shrines shows many examples of the

localizing of transcendent sacrality. The vision of the Tamil region as a

consecrated playground was promoted by the dramatic and celebra-

tory poetry of the Vaiṣṇava ālvār poets. A large percentage of the Śaiva

nāyanmār saints were from the Kaveri sub-region, and they too sang

about their experiences at specific shrines For pilgrim-devotees,

sacred shrines transcend the worldly order and provide another order,

localizing and domesticating the holy and offering energizing access to

purity. Tyāgarāja celebrated the local sacred geography in some of his

songs, singing of the charms of the river and the magnificence and

allure of the deities in nearby temples. In his works, as in those of

other bhakti poets, the deity of the local shrine and the transcendent

infinite are merged.48

Influences in the Kaveri Air

Though there was no Rāma temple in Tiruvaiyaru, Tyāgarāja's

father worshipped images of Rāma, Sītā and Laksmana in his home,

and, according to earlier biographies, initiated his son into these bhakti

practices. As smārta brahmins the family's concurrent reverence for Śiva

did not contradict devotion to Rāma. In many stories, including

one in the Adhyātma Rāmāyana, an advaitin Sanskrit scripture

Tyāgarāja is said to have read, Śiva himself repeats the name of Rāma

Rāma, for his part, is pictured worshipping the Śivalingam at

Rameshwaram, at the tip of the continent. The name Rāma is

sometimes said to be composed of one syllable from a Viṣṇu mantra

and one from a Śaiva mantra.⁴⁹ In the lives of smārtas such as

Tyāgarāja's family we can see a harmonization of reverence for both

Vaiṣṇava and Śaiva names and forms of the divine. Tyāgarāja often

frequented the Śiva temple in Tiruvaiyaru.

In this region the living legacy of temple music generated by the

patronage of Nayak and Maratha courts in Thanjavur, which Tyāgarāja

heard while growing up, complemented the simpler, more popular

bhajan music, such as Purandaradāsa's songs in Kannada which

Tyāgarāja drank in cum lacte as his mother sang them at home,

according to oral tradition.

The Vaiṣṇava songs of the haridāsas were spread throughout South

India by wandering dāsa musicians who popularized the image of the

uñchavr̥tti bhāgavataʳ Walking and alms-gathering while singing in

the streets, the uñchavr̥tti bhāgavataʳ was a colourful sight. Strum-

ming his tambūra, keeping time with clappers and tinkling anklets, the

alms-dependent singer had a pot tied to a sash dangling from his

turban, in which villagers would place rice. The image of the haridāsa,

living from hand to mouth, in the fluid margins beyond settled

householder life, ecstatically singing praise, seems to have deeply

impressed Tyāgarāja, as his songs attest. As we know, the itinerant

singer etched an evocative ideal in the folk mind, a 'root-paradigm'

standing for values of voluntary poverty, full reliance on one's deity,

and freedom from wordly bonds and cares. His enthusiastic style of

singing was an inseparable part of his identity, and it touched

Tyāgarāja in his formative years.

In various forms, Tyāgarāja heard the often-re counted purāṇic story

of Prahlāda's unwavering devotion as he faced opposition from those

around him, and the story of the rescue of Gajendra, the elephant who

called Viṣṇu's name when attacked by a crocodile. He heard over and

over the stories of village milkmaids at play with Krishna, and of

Hanumān's faithful service to the righteous Rāma in songs, dance

dramas and public recitations, in Sanskrit, Tamil, Marathi and Telugu.

In these and other sources mentioned earlier, Tiruvaiyaru in Thanjavur

District was a rich and fertile cultural–religious milieu in Tyāgarāja's

time50 Even illiterates knew Tamil proverbs from the classics such as

Tirukkural, Cilappadikāram and Tevāram, as well as oral forms of the

great myths and holy devotees’ lives In this atmosphere Tyāgarāja

matured, producing in his prime, delicate but enduring spiritual

fantasies of song able to lift the nerves above the tropical heat and

transport the mind beyond worldly cares.

Without the treasury of musical culture which had accumulated

here, and without his unique discipline and inspiration, these

masterpieces are unthinkable. As philosopher A. N Whitehead

remarked, ‘Standardized size can do almost anything, except foster the

growth of genius. That is the privilege of the tiny oasis. Goethe

surveyed the world, but it was from Weimar; Shakespeare is universal,

but he lived in Elizabethan England We cannot think of Socrates

outside Athens’.51 It is hard to picture Tyāgarāja anywhere but in

Tiruvaiyaru. His creativity took place in that regional ‘oasis,’ oc-

casioned by the outlook and conditions there. As a poet musician,

Tyāgarāja stood for and spoke for the people of his region in a

profound way. The hermeneuticist Paul Ricoeur discusses the idea

that in poetry ‘language speaks’ in such a way that a deeper and fuller

mode of dwelling on earth is made possible

Heidegger comments on Holderlin’s poem which contains

the line ‘dichterisch wohnt der Mensch’ (‘poetically...

dwells Man on this earth’) suggesting that ‘man dwells on

earth insofar as a tension is maintained between his

concern for the heavens, for the divine, and for the

rootedness of his own existence in the earth. This tension

confers a certain dimensionality and assigns a locus to the

act of dwelling. In terms of its total extension and radical

comprehension, poetry is what locates the act of dwelling

between heaven and earth, under the sky, but on the earth,

within the domain of the word. Poetry is more than the art

of making poems. It is poiesis, or creation in the largest

sense of the word. It is in this sense that poetry is

equivalent to primordial dwelling; man dwells only when

poets exist in the world’.52

Real living, in this view, is fuller understanding, and it is in intuitive

and lyrical wisdom and delight that such life is expressed by the

‘poetisphere’ of Tyāgarāja, consisting of melodies and lyrics rooted

and grounded in everyday sounds, language, expectations, musical

possibilities, emotional associations, rhythmic patterns and reveries

accumulated for centuries in his region in South India. His music is

thus a constant homecoming for the people of Tamil Nadu. Not only

the religious lyrics, but the musical sounds which synthesize the

cultural experiences of South India from preceding centuries, have a

centring, deepening, grounding effect on listeners, besides concep-

tually relating them to the transcendent.51

Lowly Slaves and the Highly Cultured

Now, as in the past, roughly three quarters of India's population are

engaged in agriculture-related labour. We must assume, therefore,

that conventional historians, centring their stories on kings and

brahmins, have been most concerned with the prominent crest of the

towering śikhara (the peak or temple spire) of society. The labourers

in the paddy fields and pastures are often ignored. The fingers

transplanting rice and winnowing it, the backs bending to keep

irrigation ditches clear, the calloused feet of those harvesting and

processing the grain, gaunt figures performing a multitude of other

labours, are hidden from view by the imposing stone temples and

other edifices which the kings had built. Tourists see these edifices,

distant readers easily learn of them, pilgrims worship at them, and

important exchanges continue to occur in them even today. But the

'sons of the soil' also exist, and without their foundational exertions

those who are associated with the high palaces and temples—the kings

and brahmins who are specialists in protection and purity respec-

tively—would lack glory and existence itself. Yet, in most histories,

only the wealthy and articulate ones enjoy the advantage of pro-

minence. Their lives are vocal, while labourers' lives are silent, with

only a few folk-songs to their names.

There is some truth in this verse written by a poet from another part

of Asia:

Backwater rice fields

which echo planting songs, gave

birth to high culture.54

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

51

In the generative area between the back fields dotted with huts of

peasants and slaves at one end of the social spectrum, and noble

structures housing the arts of high refinement at the other, there

stretched a stratified network of intermediaries, a complex production

and distribution system. The production of rice, chillies and other

spices, plantains, coconuts, and other important food items in

Thanjavur requires a labour-intensive irrigation system. In Chola

times (AD 850–1290) during which the 'theocratic irrigation state'

took its shape, 'slaves (adimai ālukaḷ) produced most of Thanjavur's

rice'.55 In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, slaves could be

bought along the Coromandel coast, especially during times of famine

and distress. The European companies became slave-traders' steady

customers, buying workers for their ports and settlements. The

distressed 1690s and the droughts and crop failures of the first half of

the eighteenth century made the slave trade brisker. The Maratha and

Mughal rulers frowned on the growth of a large-scale slave trade in the

Coromandel area, and therefore the British were cautious in allowing

limited slave trading in Madras. In the eighteenth century the decline

of political authority and central control of ports caused the growth of

slave markets, especially in European settlements. European private

traders made unscrupulous use of these conditions to develop the

slave trade further. 'Even in a surplus rice-producing area such as

Thanjavur a failure of crops for a season resulted in the purchase of

slaves at low prices'. In the year Tyāgarāja died (1847), twenty per cent

of the population was made up of slaves.56 Probably there was a

greater percentage before 1781, when Hyder Ali invaded the region

and workers fled and starved.57 Tribespeople conquered and captured

in wars, and indigenous low caste parayars (tanners, drummers,

workers who drink and dance communally, wearing the fifth estate

[pañcama] marks such as black iron bracelets), as well as artisans and

cultivators who were forced by circumstances to sell themselves and

their descendants during famines to members of the state class, made

up much of the agricultural slave segment of the population.58

Also significant as members of the production system in the wet

zone were such low caste menial labourers as paḷḍas, and vanniyars,

who did not own the land they worked on, but often served as

indentured bondservants, or subsisted as poor sharecroppers, in

conditions somewhat like those of serfs in feudal Europe. The women of

these communities planted seeds, weeded, harvested, processed the grain

and other produce, and their men ploughed, threshed, worked with

earth and stone, receiving subsistence in exchange. ‘The physical

lowness (pallam) of fields and channels (pallakkal) embodied the

lowliness of fieldworkers, known as pallakkudi—low people—

pallas’.59 While the lowly śūdras and caṇḍālas or outcastes were

forbidden literacy, the brahmins were forbidden by their caste rules to

engage in manual labour. Among upper-caste members, the desire for

ritual purity and the wish to avoid the pollution associated with lowly

‘dirty work’ helped shape and reify the value system which became the

accepted status quo. These general social conditions were in place for

centuries before Tyāgarāja’s family migrated to the region.

Above the lowly workers were vellālars, the locally dominant

peasants who owned lands. Vellālars played important parts as

managers and ‘were the dominant secular aristocratic caste under the

Chola kings, providing the courtiers, most of the army officers, the

lowest ranks of the kingdom’s bureaucracy, and the upper layer of the

peasantry’ 60 Important alliances were formed among the economically

privileged and socially mobile vellālars, and the gift-giving king with

his army, and the gift-receiving brahmin pundit with his holy texts and

authoritative religious traditions sanctioning and sanctifying the

network of society.

The Place of Brahmins in Earlier Times

The bulk of the Madurai-based Pandyan civilization, which co-

existed with the Chola empire, running concurrently with much of it

(AD 800–1300), rested on water—the essential wetness of irrigated

food-producing lands. The brahmadeȳas, brahmin land grants, which

were a central institution ‘at the heart of the Tamil agrarian system

during the Pandyan era, were founded by land grants to learned, non-

cultivating elites, so they depended upon existing substantial agri-

cultural output’.61 By supporting brahmadeȳas and funding temples,

vellalars demonstrated their authority and raised and cemented their

status. Loyalties to and rationales for the social circumstances of the

caste system were given stability by the brahmins. Standing for purity

and divine praise, morality and spiritual authority, the brahmins

interwove the strands of society into a single fabric, with knowledge of

holy rites, the holy past, the sacred places, and religious philosophy.

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

53

Religious traditions often provide dimensions of nobility in the poor man's life, and dimensions of spirit-humbling in the rich man's life.

They require loyalty across the social spectrum and so are forces which hold diverse communities together. They infuse the dharmas (root meaning: 'to hold') of obligation and reverence. Through a common religious piety, traders and artisans, fishermen and bricklayers, goldsmiths and musicians, all shared some common aspirations with rice pounders and brahmins.

The brahmins' creativity, synthesizing local traditions with high culture, gave legitimacy and rationale to a social and economic system by elaborating and providing spiritual reference points. By the time of the early Pandyan kings, gift-giving was the means of choice for gaining religious merit—this redistribution of goods had replaced Vedic sacrifice.62 By sponsoring religious activities and by wars, the vellālars built the medieval order of Hindu society in the Pandyan land. In Pandyan times local authorities donated gifts to temples in the name of kings to publicly affirm their alliance and ritually invest in the local economy. 'Giving to god and to kings, then, also meant supporting a moral order that provided security for people on the land, both physically and spiritually.'63 Such transactions were celebrated in impressive rites and were considered important enough to be commemorated in stone inscriptions which endure to this day.

The Changing Plight of Peasants in Thanjavur

Before Pandyan times, in the pre-medieval era, it is likely that peasant families worked on their own ancestral lands. From Pandyan times onward it is likely that there were significant numbers of landless peasants who worked for others. This view counters some historians' assumptions that only with the British were peasant land owners and village craftsmen impoverished and displaced and forced to till land for others.64 Instead, it would seem there was a millenium-long phase of peasants building the regions which 'would spatially order social change during the 19th century,' according to historian David Ludden.65 The irrigated land system which the vellālar–brahmin alliance developed 'through which high-caste landowners brought under their control land, labour, and water, established their status in the agrarian system as a whole, and developed technical skills to

54 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

expand the irrigation economy all at the same time. The local order of

wet-zone life does not seem to have undergone major structural

change after the fall of the Pandyas'. Once in place, the relationships,

customary obligations and transaction patterns may give a surface

impression of continuity . An extreme interpretation of the stagnant

changelessness of village and peasant world however, is just what

Ludden denies. He argues convincingly that the peasant world had its

own dynamic life and self-development without depending on changes

coming from other spheres, such as from dynamic cities or foreign

invasions.

Alliances and Dependencies

In status and power, prestige and high culture, the caste system's

upper echelons and the materially strong land-owning peasants, like

ornamental facets of a śikhara or temple spire, towered above the

sweat-soiled lowly ones beneath. The kings skimmed the melivāram,

the 'upper share' tribute of thirty to forty per cent of the wetlands

produce, to run the government and armies, maintain temples, maths,

schools, hospitals, officials, officers and cultural programmes. Yet we

must recognize the lowest strata of workers as the underground

material foundation on which the whole structure stands. Thanjavur's

splendid accomplishments as the 'rice bowl of South India' are not

only a reflection of natural bounty, like the magical inexhaustible food

vessel in the tales of old. The delta as a cornucopia of lush green life

was made possible by its rich wet soil, but also by the great exertions

of slaves and the poor. The brahmin minds and eyes which dreamed

and envisioned, ears which discerned perfect pitch and tongues which

retold the stories of old, were fed by the lower limbs of society which

produced the rice. The elite vellālars with mirāsdār high culture could

enjoy intellectual expansiveness because of the intense concentration

on mundane chores by the labourers under them. The vellālar

managerial caste, by specializing in supervising the peasant work, in

collecting revenues and in distributing shares among the workers,

artisans and craftsmen, could enjoy the luxury of being the 'country

folk with wide horizons'. There were some non-vegetarian vellālärs,

though they were not the majority. Partly because upper-caste Hindus

in South India were vegetarians, it is thought that the non-vegetarian

vellālärs originated in the lower rank peasant communities. 'Kallar,

Maṟavar and Agambaḍiyar, becoming fat, turn to Veḷḷāḷar,' an old

Tamil saying goes. This suggests that there was some mobility of

position and wealth at certain levels of the South Indian system of

social stratification.

Locating Tyāgarāja in His Society

The task of the historian is to explore and understand the totality of

evidence in the case at hand, and to discern whole patterns which

enable comprehension. This task ideally transcends bias. It is desirable

neither to allow fascınation and enthusiasm for the high culture of the

brahmins to blind one to the rest of the social system nor to

demonstrate one's empathy with the peasants by developing animosity

towards the upper castes. The world historian, as William McNeill

wrote, can balance the emphasis on conflicts, by cultivating 'a sense of

individual identification with the triumphs and tribulations of

humanity as a whole,' and thus develop a more global or ecumenical

history which better understands humanity's commonality and has

'room for human diversity in all its complexity'.69

There are some aspects of life shared by all in a traditional society,

and these offer a kind of unity of outlook. For example, in traditional

India, most women wore the same form of dress, the sari, though some

wore cotton and others silk. Similarly, concepts of dharma and karma

provided a cohesive view for many in-society. In the Kamba Rāmāyaṇa

it is said that the king governs and protects the larger world just 'as a

peasant nourishes his patch of land'.70 The peasant is the little man

who gives to the king the fruits of his labours on that land-patch. The

king is the 'big man' who pays his revenues to the Cosmic Person or

Supreme Being, by distributing the fruits of his realm's 'patch' to

brahmins, who worship and specialize in relating to the absolute,

promoting culture and prosperity, and enhancing royal honour Both

king and peasant are beholden to the giver of life, their common

divine reference point beyond this world of limits and changes

For bhaktas of South India, it is significant that Tyāgarāja's father

had a divine dream directing him to live in Tiruvaiyaru, and that he

communicated this dream to the king governing that area, who is also

said to have had a complementary dream. This shows that the family's

establishment of a home in that village was not to be thought of as the

result of a king's will but was part of a divine plan which people wish

to recall as ultimate It shows that the king acted not on his own

initiative, but was subservient to the deity. The king wanted to be

recognized as a patron of respected artists and holy men, and as a

humble devotee himself. Tyāgarāja turned his back on this patronage

which had fed his father and music guru, and he returned to the

original deepest source of brahminic authority: renunciation—the

ideal of being in the world but not of it, living beyond self-interest and

attachment He signals this by dedicating his works to Rāma, and to

bhakti saints such as Purandaradāsa and Rāmadās, not to kings. He

did not want to appear as one more indebted dependant or amuse-

ment for the king—in this we might say he felt called by a higher sense

of mission than his father and music guru. He longed for divine

patronage, and sang innumerable songs to King Rāma, pleading in

most of them 'protect me, govern me, accept me as subject, O divine

guardian and ruler' Tyāgarāja's way of life and work were tactics of

preserving links with a sense of the holy and, hence, meant to him

survival of the heritage he valued most in a chaotic world.

Caste Relationships in the Hindu Social Order

Various theories and ideas of justice stand behind the organizational

logic of enduring societies. The rationale for the system which

perpetuated the inequality of different castes in India is often found

reflected in popular religion. For example, a recent study shows how

ancestral spirit veneration served to reproduce at the level of religious

imagination the social hierarchy in Bengal. Such practices which

ritually enact or narratively elaborate on hereditary status and its

continuation in the invisible world of spirits, reveal how unequal

relations are reproduced generation after generation over long periods

of time.71

In Thanjavur it is noteworthy that in the popular annual procession

which is part of the Seven Shrines festival, a parayar with a parasol (an

emblem of royalty) leads the procession line, reminding all of the myth

depicting the Vedic god Indra becoming a parayar This practice

affirms and helps reproduce the hierarchical system of inequality by

giving the representative parayar great honour one day of the year. It is

a recognition of the large part played by the low castes of society in the

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY 57

delta economy. The parayar remains a parayar, though his lineage or

connection with the god Indra is ritually celebrated. In outward

display even the lowly receive their due.

The orthodox explanation of the rank and relations among castes in

India is ancient and widespread In the fountainhead of brahminic

ideology, the Ṛig Veda, the myth of the sacrifice of the Cosmic Person,

purusa, tells us how the different segments of society came into being.

First the Cosmic Person, purusa, is said to be all creatures and all

existence:

The Person has a thousand eyes, a thousand heads, a

thousand feet. Encompassing earth on every side, he rules

firmly established in the heart. (1)

The person, too, is all this, both what has been and what is

to come ... (2)

One-fourth of him is all-existences, three-fourths in the

empyrean undying. (3)

[When the gods sacrificed purusa to generate the universe

and all beings] when they divided the Person, how many-

fold did they arrange him? (11)

The Priest (brāhmaṇa) was born from mouth; of his arms

was made the Ruler; (rājanya)

His thighs were the Merchant-folk (vaiśya); from his feet

was born the Servant (śūdra) (12)

The rest of creation—moon and sun, fire, sky, and so on, also came

from appropriate portions of the original Cosmic Person.72 All come

from the primordial sacrifice of puruṣa, and generation after gen-

eration is bound by the dharma of birth, karma and rebirth. Bad deeds

bring low status, and doing one's own birth-determined work leads to

perfection, Krishna declares in the Bhagavad Gītā Of course the lower

castes often are not persuaded to this view.73

It is sometimes said that brahmin ideology formed the 'glue' for the

social system. But a living society is more like an organism than like a

collage or patched pottery. The ideology was therefore more like

unifying life-blood and a co-ordinating nervous system, made up of

fibres of ritual, symbol and rationale derived from the religious order.

In this view, because of the law of karma, each member of society was

born at his or her level of dharma The priest, the ruler, the merchant

and the servant played complementary roles in this ideal scheme, with

the law of just deserts ordering the body politic.

The Western world held and developed a remarkably similar

rationale for aristocratic and feudalistic social organizations. In Plato's

Republic the mixing up of work—one member of society performing

another's function—is injustice, while each person performing in and

for the community the function which best suits his or her nature, is

deemed justice.74 Gnostic concepts of the human community envision

a fall from a higher realm, by which an originally undivided 'Human

Form Divine' becomes divided into conflicting functions, each an

incomplete part of humanity, and each with a dominant tendency or

talent—'intellect,' 'desire,' 'craftsmanship' and so on. This organic

model of society is also found in Roman thought, and in medieval

conceptualizations, such as those found in John of Salisbury's

Policratius.75 Society is like a body; let the eye be an eye and the hand

be a hand, these arguments insist.

In India the social order was traced to the Vedic origin myth of the

Cosmic Person. In Europe the body analogy was the rhetorical device

or reasoning means most commonly used to persuasively convey a

rational understanding of society as organism-like—a living hierarchy

of interrelated parts, each with his place in the total scheme, each a

link in the great chain of being. Especially from the twelfth to the

sixteenth centuries in many European works, society is analogized in

body imagery—'invoked in every economic crisis to rebuke extortion

and dissension with a high doctrine of social solidarity'. The analogy of

the human body provided an acceptable rationale. Bitter realities of

the social order were thus made palatable by:

the whole edifice of feudal society—class privilege, class

oppression, exploitation, serfdom. But these things can-

not, it is thought, be treated as simply alien to religion, for

religion is all-comprehensive. They must be given some

ethical meaning, must be shown to be the expression of

some larger plan... [hence] a functional theory of society

[emerged; namely,] Society, like the human body, is an

organism composed of different members. Each member

has its own function; prayer, or defence, or merchandise,

or tilling the soil. Each must receive the means suited to its

station, and must claim no more. Within classes there must

be equality...76

The idea that society is like the human body on a larger scale is thus a pervasive archetypal idea, a primary vision of humanity's wholeness. Inherited injustices, whether within India's caste system, European feudalism, free-trade capitalism or Marxist socialism are all subject to correction by the human conscience seeking justice. The world in which Tyāgarāja strove saw new merchant classes rising, both in Europe and in India; it saw war with the Muslims and the ascendancy of British power, and the decline of the rajas Hence, it saw the gradual disintegration of the Hindu social order according to brahminic ideology.

Tyāgarāja's Response

From the distance of two centuries we can imaginatively stand at the gopuram or gateway to that situation and suggest what seems to have been involved in Tyāgarāja's response

Tyāgarāja refused to acknowledge the British in his songs, but he resolutely preserved important indigenous musical elements which had been accumulating in Thanjavur for centuries. His way was an insistence that the fact of foreign political rule did not mean that loyalty to Rāma rule or bhakti was now a thing of the past. His songs reaffirm the way and response of Purandaradāsa, Rāmadās and other saint-singers whom he echoes, quotes, celebrates and re-enacts.

Tyāgarāja is always pictured in the dress of the singer-beggar, which he is supposed to have commonly worn. Tyāgarāja the renunciate-householder, the other-worldly music yogi, shared a sense of outsiderhood with the poor and slaves and he offered communitas in his works, first in the music itself, which is a world-dissolving flow of bhakti, and secondly in nāmasiddhānta's free access to the divine and to ultimate liberation through praise and repetition of the holy name. This sādhana or discipline was open to all, ‘regardless of caste, sex or status’.77

Tyāgarāja's appearance in the pictures which depict him offers a clue. He is always shown in simple haridāsa clothes. Victor Turner has suggested that a simple mode of dress ‘signalizes that one wishes to approximate the basically or merely human, as against the structurally specific by way of status or class’. Tyāgarāja voluntarily chose the dress of the haridāsa, literally the ‘slave of God,’ rather than that of the

60 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

king's companion, developing the 'powers of the weak' to use Turner's term.78

Another brahmin, whose songs are sung by all classes in India, Rabindranath Tagore, wrote of 'the tiller, the weaver, the fisherman, [who] all sustain the world with labour,' saying that he desired to enter their 'intimate precincts'. 'I know that the song basket is empty / if filled with trinkets when links/ are gone between life and life. / And I know my failure, whenever/ my song has been incomplete,/ whenever it has missed the all'.79 Tyāgarāja's songs succeed in catching 'the all' with their life-linking power. As one South Indian earlier this century put it, Tyāgarāja was singular in the wideness of his appeal:

His music is a synthesis of South Indian culture and is as great as any form of Indian culture. Its Telugu is as simple almost as the Telugu of the girl that goes home in the evening, singing, with her bundle of fresh cut grass. But from such slim footing Tyāgarāja's music rises tall as the world Its tradition is Tamil, the tradition of Alwars and Nayanmars. Its grammar is Carnatic, that is to say, South Indian. Its culture is Indian in its vision. Its spirit is human, the spirit of man, the top of creation, communing with his creator. Everyone in South India can understand it, can feel its rhythm, can follow its spirit and feel at home in it. Tyāgarāja, more perhaps than any other single musician, has preserved for us our one great live art with an appeal both deep and wide.80

The language of religious music sometimes manifests an indefinable power to reach deeply into individuals and bring out the best human qualities, fostering understanding and feelings of kindredness in people otherwise estranged. While Leibniz thought of music as 'unconscious counting,' this view leaves out the song's potency to educe refinement. A European composer and theorist of music wrote in 1739: 'It is the true purpose of music to be above all else a moral lesson'.81 Perhaps we should think of Tyāgarāja as an illustration of this--he was a persuasive master expressing through mandalas of exquisite sound and conscience a sense of unity and justice, making life more bearable and meaningful regardless of the brutal realities of the times. Tyāgarāja could wield the old rāgas and discover new rāgas

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

61

able to displace fearful events in the memory of his listeners. His music

is an intangible but nevertheless real and important power, something

sheltering and shared, an artful exercise of specialized smārta con-

science anchoring standards of creativity and religion at a time when

intense changes inundated the region in wave after wave.

Temple complexes have walls which at times might be used as

protective fortifications from hostile forces. The Maratha kings kept

armies to repel danger, defend the community and to remain supreme.

To be fair we must add that these rulers also tried to patronize Hindu

saints and singer-scholars, and to promote culture in many forms.

Maratha rulers recognized that defence and force alone could not

provide viable relationships to a society, or bring out co-operative

goodwill, altruism and creative spirituality. King Sarabhojī knew

artistic creations praising the ruler could bring a king auspicious fame.

But he found that Tyāgarāja's vision was not an item available for

exchange. Tyāgarāja, for his part, should be judged as a singer. A

singer should not be expected to recruit armies or confront social

problems in the way people of other regions at later times think

proper. A singer should sing.

Figuratively speaking, in the temple of the Hindu community the

central sanctum sanctorum or garbhagṛha ('womb-house') is tended by

inspired saintly geniuses, too popular and mainstream to be called

esoteric mystics. Living turned towards the holy, these saints comprise

the creative inner heart of Hinduism, the part which helps vivify the

whole; they are the conscience, keeping the powerful concerned with

justice, and giving the lowly the strength for joy.

NOTES

1 Jean Cocteau, Professional Secrets An Autobiography, tr Richard Howard (New

York Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1970) p 136

2 The most complete discussion of the dispute about the date of Tyāgarāja's death is

found in M S Ramaswami Aiyar's book, Thiagaraja (A Great Musician Saint), pp

26–31. Yet Aiyar gives the wrong date for Tyāgarāja's birth, not having access to

the palm-leaf horoscope which was discovered later. See P. Sambamoorthy, Great

Composers vol II Tyāgarāja, p 233

3 Khandavalli Balendusekharam, Nayaks of Tanjore, pp 15–16. See also Samba-

moorthy, op. cit , p 238, for note on Rayalaseema dialect words in Tyāgarāja's lyrics.

4 Among the vaidiki there are ten territorial-differentiation names Tyāgarāja's family

belonged to the murikinadu (or mulakanadu) branch This branch is known for

having generated other composers as well, including Muvvānallūr Sabhapati Ayyar

and Pallavi Sesha Ayyar

5 Manual of Tanjore District, pp 170, 357, 365 Tyāgarāja's Nowka Charıtram,

Sambamoorthy, ed , p 1, v 5.

6 For instance, S Ramamurthi and the other descendants of Tyāgarāja's brother, who

inherited the images worshipped by Tyāgarāja, were living in Thanjavur city, on

Varahaprier Lane, South Main Street in 1982 when I was there See also pictures of

Rāmuḍu Bhāgavataṛ, the great grandson of Tyāgarāja's brother, Japesh, in Samba-

moorthy, Great Composers, facing p 297 Smārtas also often daub stripes on their

wrists, biceps and shoulders Telugu smārta women had a distinctive way of wearing

their saṛis, and Tamil smārta women were marked with a tattoo on their left cheeks.

7 Milton Singer, ed , Krıshna Myths, Rıtes, and Attıtudes, p. 145 T.K Venkates-

waran lists smārta sources for orientation as. 1. śrauta sūtras, 2. grhya sūtras, 3

dharma sūtras Thus Vedic rites, household pūṛās and institutional duties in the

Dharmaśastras. In the same book, Hans van Buitenen gives a definition of smārtas,

p. 217. Yoshitsugu Sawai has made a study of the smārta centre in Sringeri, and he

further differentiates between lay smārtas with their ritual (for instance sandhya-

vandana) and bhakti, guru veneration and mantra, and the sannỵāsıns, with their

philosophy of mokṣa and their meditation and yoga. Among lay smārtas, women's

mantras and practices differ from the men's; they include worship of Śrī Vidyā or

Śrī Śāradā in what Sawai calls 'a kind of Tantric Advaita' In Fath of Ascetics and

Lay Smārtas, Kathleen Gough (Rural Society in Southeast India) considers Ayyars

sectarian Śaivites, glossing over their anomalous qualities, including devotion to

non-Śaiva deities pp. 72, 78, 248. J.N. Farquhar in An Outline of the Religious

Literature of India discusses smārta as a designation used from Gupta times onward

to distinguish the orthodox twice-born who worship according to the sūtras,

especially the Grhya Sūtra, rather than keeping up the śrauta rites, pp 141,

179–80, 293

8. Cornelia Dimmitt and J.A.B. van Buitenen, eds and trs Classical Hindu Mythology,

p 8.

9. Cultural Hertage of India, vol. IV, p 5 See also Singer on reasons for smārta

leadership and creativity in this century in Madras bhajans, op. cit , p. 117–20.

10. Smārtas are followers of Śankara in South India and some other parts of India, but

not everywhere in the subcontinent. According to John B. Carman, in recent

centuries the majority of South Indian smārtas have been devotees of Śiva or

Pārvatī, but a continuing minority have been Rāma or Krṣṇa bhaktas. Carman

writes in Theology of Rāmānuja: 'At the present time all Smārta Brahmins in South

India are in principle followers of the Advaita philosophy of Śankara, according to

which the true Brahmin lies beyond the conception of any personal Lord. The

majority of them are devotees of Śiva, but they are not sectarian Śaivites, they are

not initiated into a special sectarian community To this day a significant minority of

Tamil Smārta Brahmins are devotees of Viṣṇu. It seems likely that this group of

Smārta Brahmins with Vaiṣṇava leanings was relatively even larger before

Rāmānuja, for he himself and many of his early 'converts' to exclusive loyalty to

Lord Viṣṇu and his devotees seemed to have belonged to the group of Vaiṣṇava

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

63

Smārtas', p 28. Tallapakka Annamācārya (d 1503), the great Telugu lyricist-composer was a smārta who converted to Vaiṣnavism. A full history of this important group's contributions to Indian culture is needed

11 Smārta brahmins are well known for their expansive eclectic beliefs and practices As proof of their broad-mindedness, smārtas point to their own names, they are likely to have a name associated with Vaiṣnavism as well as Śaivism, while Vaiṣnavas do not have names associated with Śaivism I am indebted to David Ludden for statistics showing percentages of Tamil and Telugu smārta brahmins in villages in 1823. Private correspondence, July 7, 1987

To illustrate further the complexities of smārta practice, consider the following example from a Gujarāti smārta 'Between 10 and 18 I wore the three horizontal lines of sacred ash across the forehead, at the time of the morning sandhya I also remember that, not being sectarian, I also used to add a sandal-wood paste mark on top and sometimes also a red kumkum round dot, meant to signify devotion to Viṣṇu and Śrī, respectively The ash itself, I believe, had a double meaning homage to Śiva as well as the sacrificial ritual of the Śrautas. The Pañcāyatana pūjā was, of course, there, and in general, the non-exclusion principle was operative, so far as all the other deities were concerned The istadevatā in the family which raised me was Hanumān In my parental family it was Narasimha, but in my own case, for me, it was Bhairava at first, then Ganeśa On Guru Pūrṇima day, once every year, my uncle used to take me with him to a nearby matha to make offerings to the Swāmi, representing Śaṅkarācārya, as acknowledging Advaitic mokṣa as the ultimate value, or so I interpret it now I suppose there must be local variations in Smārta practice from one cultural region to another In our case (the Nāgara Brāhmaṇas) the matter was further complicated by the fact that Śiva was our tutelary deity, though in everyday life we functioned as Vaiṣṇavas, at least since the time of Narasī Mehtā, our patron saint, whom however we refused to follow in respect of his egalitarian ideas of abandoning caste rules Narasī was a Śaiva who one day prayed effectively to Śiva to grant him Viṣṇu's bhakti. Janmāṣṭamī (Kṛṣṇa's birthday) was the most festive day for us in the year, Śivarātri of austere and strict fasting, and the Ṛṣi tarpana or Śrāvanī day one of elaborate ritual purification and offerings to the Ṛṣis from whom we are supposed to be descended—a Vedic ritual obligatory on all Brahmanas'. J L. Mehta, personal correspondence from Jabalpur, July 23, 1987 Kathleen Gough op. cit , cites the rivalry on pp 28–9

12 For a discussion of nāmasiddhānta and its followers, including Tyāgarāja, see the introductory thesis in C Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit , pp 109–37

13 Milton Singer, op. cit., pp. 26–30 Bhāgavatas are also discussed in Singer's Traditional India Structure and Change, pp 138, 147 ff., 155 ff. Kathleen Gough, (op. cit.), studying Thanjavur agricultural history, uses the term 'Tyāgarāja Bhāgavadar,' which she must have heard from unlettered Tamilians. J.N. Farquhar, in An Outline of the Religious Literature of India writes: 'The word Bhāgavata has two meanings in modern Hinduism It is first an epithet used of Vaiṣṇavas generally, as those who use the Bhagavat-śāstra, or body of works which revere Vishnu as Bhagavān. It is used, in the second place, of a special community of Vaishnavas, found today in most parts of South India, who worship Viṣṇu, but recognize the equality of the two gods and keep up the use of Vedic rites They

are therefore recognized as Smārtas. It is of great importance to distinguish this

community of Vaishnava Smārtas from the sectarian Vaishṇavas called Pāncharātras', p 142 Tyāgarāja calls himself a bhāgavata, meaning devotee, in Idē

bbāgyamu

14 Introduction to Viñjamurı Varaha Narasimhācāryulu's Tyāgarājaswāmıcarıtra

15 Sambamoorthy, op. cit., pp. 245–6.

16 K Balendusekharam, op. cit , pp 15–17 Tyāgarāja belonged to Bharadvāja gotra

and Āpastamba sūtra, and to the Cherukkuruvāllu group Sambamoorthy, op cit.,

p 17

17 Nilakanta Sastri, A History of South India, p. 351. Chapters XI-XII provide the

historical background on the Vijayanagar Empire and Nayaks See also Balendu-sekharam, op cit., pp 9–37.

18 Dīkṣitars are mentioned by Singer, and listed by S Seetha in Tanfure as a Seat of

Music

19 Ibid, pp. 190–99. Some South Indian musicologists question this atribution and

believe some were ghostwritten in the king's name.

20 V. Raghavan, op cit., pp 9–10 P. Sambamoorthy, op. cit , p 17 Pañcanada

literally means 'five rivers'--in Tamil, 'Aiyaru' as in Tiruvaiyaru--suggesting a

namesake of the Kaveri delta, or the five holy rivers of North India (Punjab).

21. Seetha, op cit., pp. 136–47.

22. Krishnasvāmı Bhāgavatar's biography of Tyāgarāja depicts Tyāgarāja as obtaining

music manuscripts from his grandfather. Seetha, op. cit., p. 143, discusses the

possibility of Girirāja Brahmam being the author of an advaita kırtana found in the

Sangīta Sampradāya Pradarśinī.

23. Daniel H.H. Ingalls, Sanskrit Poetry (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1965,

1968), p 26.

24. Ayyars are listed by Sambamoorthy op. cit., p 225, for example, Choukham

Vīrabhadrayya, Pachchimıriyam Ādıappayya, Soṇṭı Veṅkaṭa Subbayya; Toḍi Sı̄tā-rāmayya, Aṭhānā Appayya, Saṅkarābharṇam Narasayya, Darbar Sı̄tāramayya, etc.

Seetha also lists many: Kṣetrayya; Melaṭṭūr Vīrabhadrayya, Kavi Maṭrıbhutayya,

Viṇā Tirumalai Iyer, Viṇā Kālasth Iyer; Ghanam Kṛshṇa Iyer, Gopāla Kṛshṇa

Bhāratiyār; Pallavi Gopālayya, and many others, op. cit., p. 105, 116, 131, 246, 247,

249, etc.

25. Some women's songs have been collected in Strīlā Pātālu (Rajahmundry Golla-pudīvirasvami Son, 1980). A 1960 Madras University thesis (M. Litt.) by M. Shyamala

Folk Music and Dance of Tamıl Nad, also contains a good selection and discussion

26. M.S. Ramaswamy Aiyar, op. cit.; S.Y. Krishnaswamy, op. cit., and interview,

Bangalore, 1981. T.S. Parthasarathy, interview, Madras, 1981. For Thanjavur's

musical richness in Tyāgarāja's time, see Seetha, op. cit., pp 1–23, Sambamoorthy,

op. cit., pp 225–31.

27. Fullarton, View of English Interests in India, p. 83, cited by C.K. Srinivasan in

Maratha Rule in the Carnatic, p 360.

28. Burton Stein, Peasant State and Society in Medieval South India (New Delhi: Oxford

University Press, 1980; 1985), p. 9 .

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

65

29 Ibid., p. 69.

30. Ibid., p. 53, 157.

31 Arjun Appadurai, 'Kings, Sects and Temples in South India, 1350–1700 AD,' The

Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. XIV, no. 1, pp. 47–73

32. A myth relating the origin of Tiruvarur depicts Indra, the Vedic sky god, battling

his foes, the rākṣasas (titans), finding himself in need of aid from Viṣṇu the

preserver. Viṣṇu provided help in the form of a talisman—an image of Śiva as

Tyāgarājasvāmi—which gave victory to anyone possessing it. Indra was told that he

was being given the talisman on the condition that he would under no circum-

stances part with it. He readily agreed, and at first was able to comply with the

caveat. Then, in another fight with rākṣasas, he enlisted the help of the king of

Tiruvarur, whose name was Muchukunda Indra, heedless of his vow, gave the

Tyāgarājasvāmi image to the king, who promptly defeated the titans, and then

installed the powerful icon in Tiruvarur. Indra, king of the gods, having disregarded

the stipulation of the gifting, paid for his fault by falling in status and being born as

an outcaste. A representative outcaste claiming descent from this incarnation of

Indra precedes an annual procession with a white umbrella (Indra's royal symbol)

on festival days in Tiruvarur.

33. The Śaiva saint Appar (seventh century AD) is associated with Tiruvaiyaru, and

mentions it in several verses, e.g., in Tirunāvukkarasu IV.8 and IV.5.2 cited in

V. Raghavan, The Great Integrators The Saint Singers of India, pp. 85–6. See also

V. Raghavan, Spiritual Heritage of Tyāgarāja, p 11, and S.Y. Krishnaswamy, op cit.,

p. 3. M.S. Ramaswami Aiyar, op. cit., p. 15 See also David Shulman, Tamil Temple

Myths, pp. 18 ff. F.R. Hemingway, Tanjore Madras District Gazetteer vol. I pp.

277–8. Mythology has it that the bull Nandi, Śiva's emblem and vehicle, was

married under the auspices of Lord Śiva, enshrined in Tirumalavadi, and then was

taken in a grand procession to each of the seven shrines, ending in Tiruvaiyaru This

procession is annually re-enacted by villagers in April. Also, every year the god's

emblem, a 'large javelin-headed implement called aṣṭidevar (the essential god)' is

bathed in the Kaveri; great masses bathe there at the same time, believing the water

to be charged with especially sacred power then. This ritual is said to be a memorial

to the Śaiva saint Appar, who is said to have stayed at the Tiruvaiyaru temple, where

he had a vision. The symbolic spear as focus of veneration in South India is

discussed by Henry Whitehead in The Village Gods of South India (New Delhi:

Asian Educational Services, 1983 reprint)

34. M.S. Ramaswami Aiyar, op cit., p. 19

35. Bhāgavata Purāṇa XI. 5.38–40 See also II. 5.39–41 Cited by van Buitenen in

Singer, op. cit., p 26.

36. Cilappadikāram cited in M. Varadarajan, Ilango Adigal (Delhi: Sahitya Akademi,

1981), pp. 57–8.

37 David Shulman, The King and the Clown in South Indian Myth and Poetry, p 26.

38. Charlotte Vaudeville, op. cit., p 44

39. Manusmrti, VIII. 92.

40. This is my translation of Muripemu galige gadā See V. Raghavan, op cit., p. 42–3

for original text in Devanāgarī script See Kallurı Veerabhadra Sastri, Tyāgarāja-kīrtanalu, vol II, pp 87 for Telugu script

41 Sāri vedalina, in V Raghavan, op cit, p 41–2 There are a number of nāyanmār and ālvār hymns praising sites on the Kaverı also.

42 Hemingway, op cit , p 276.

43 C F Schwartz, Remains of the Rev C F Schwartz See also The Imperial Gazetteer of India (London Oxford University Press, 1908), vol XXIII, p 231

44 Gough, op cit , pp 68, 99

45 Hemingway, op cit , p 276–8 A story is told regarding the special feature in the temple in Tiruvaiyaru—the smoking incense pit which is situated near the main entrance It is said that while worshipping Śiva as Pañcanadīśa, the Lord of the Five Rivers, a boy was taken by Yama, the god of death Pañcanadīśa retaliated by taking the life of Yama Pañcanadīśa would only restore Yama's life on the condition that in the future, Yama would not bother those who died in Tiruvaiyaru in sight of the incense smoke of the temple, emanating from a pit in which incense is continuously kept burning by pilgrims and worshippers The image of Ālkondār installed in the temple shows Pañcanadīśa with Yama underfoot In this millenia-old temple Tyāgarāja is said to have repeated the Rāma tāraka mantra for twenty years

46 Ibid See also David Shulman, Tamil Temple Myths, p 18 M N Srinivas, Religion und Society Among the Coorgs (New York Asia Publishing., 1965), p 244–7.

47 Shulman, op cit , p 21 Ludden, Peasant History in South India, p 32 ff.

48 Shulman, op cit , pp 18, 66, ff.

49 Lakṣmīdhara speaking of the oneness of Śiva and Viṣṇu is cited in T M P Mahadevan, ed , Seminar on Saints, p 140.

50 Seetha, op cit , pp 171, 186 Dr Seetha provides a range of likely influences by enumerating Thanjavur's composers and poets.

51 A N Whitehead, Religion in the Making (New York Macmillan, 1957), p 135

52 Paul Ricoeur, The Conflict of Interpretations Essays in Hermeneutics, ed Don Inde (Evanston Northwestern University Press, 1974), pp 466–7

53 I am aware that some may interpret Tyāgarāja's life as that of an 'escapist,' as if he was lost in self-centred delusion But, if so, was Beethoven an escapist? Cannot artistic vision inspire advance, and cannot 'practical' realpolitik activism be an escape from the inward side of life, from coming to terms with oneself? Yoga, such as Gandhi's, is not without social consequences Can all retreat and recreation be considered as mere escape? Is Sabbath rest, meditation, and nightly sleep escape? Perhaps this is a Western patriarchal presupposition—that aggressive, serious outgoing confrontative energy is real, while replenishment, receptivity, relaxation and artistic creation is escape Is this a facet of the same sensibility that sees art and humanities as folly, and science and politics as serious and real? In any case it would seem to be a rather one-sided view I would say that numbing and not sensitivity is escapist, and that Tyāgarāja was a Gandhi of music, a genius gaining ground in an Indian artistic domain which impelled peoples' lives inspiringly Great art from the depths can refresh, prepare, rebalance, and tune life, making it more livable Hence, to reduce it to 'escape' seems unjust

TYĀGARĀJA'S ROOTS IN REGIONAL HISTORY

54 The Japanese poet Bashō wrote this haiku I based my rendering on a translation by

Harold Stewart (Rutland Tuttle, 1969).

Refinement from these backward fields has sprung

Where still the old rice-planting songs are sung.

55 Gough, op cit, p 106

56 Ibid, p 105; Sinnappah Arasaratnam, Merchants and Companies on the Coro-

mandel Coast, p 211 Though slavery was legally abolished in 1843, the conditions

of Harijan labourers' lives changed little during British rule Gough, op cit, p 131

57 Ibid, p 116

58 Ibid, p 109

59 Ludden, op cit, p 91

60 Gough, op cit, p 29

61 Ludden, op cit, p 24

62 Ibid, p 27

63 Ibid, p 26, 28

64 Dharma Kumar, Land and Caste in South India, p 193

65 Ludden, op cit, p 11

66 Ibid, p 85

67 Gough, op cit, p 106

68 Ibid, p 106

69 William H McNiel, 'Mythistory, or Truth, Myth, History and Historians,'

American Historical Review, 91,1, February 1986 pp 37–65

70 Kamba Rāmāyana, I 180 Cited by Shulman, The King and the Clown in South

Indian History

71 Gyan Prakash, 'Reproducing Inequality Spirit Cult and Labour Relations in

Colonial Eastern India,' Modern Asian Studies, 20, 2, 1986, p 209–30

72. Ṛg Veda, X 90 I base this translation on A K Coomaraswamy's in A New

Approach to the Vedas (London, 1933) For more information on the logic of the

caste system see Richard Lannoy, The Speaking Tree (New York. Oxford University

Press, 1975), pp 137–156 For a further elaboration on caste in Thanjavur, see

Gough, op. cit The Vedic four-caste system was an ideal, in reality in South India

the strata in between the brahmins and the śūdras were not so strictly distinguished.

73 Bhagavad Gītā, XVIII, 45, 47 See Gough p 27.

74 F M. Cornford, tr Plato's Republic, (New York Oxford University Press, 1945;

1963, 23rd reprint), sections 427–34, pp 119, ff

75 R.H. Tawney, Religion and the Rise of Capitalism, p 239. See also such uses of this

body-member imagery as that found in stoic thinkers, in Paul in the New

Testament, Romans 12 3–7, and the opening scene in Shakespeare's Coriolanus. At

present, ecologists and other scientists use the 'Gaia concept,' envisioning the world

as one living organism with interdependent parts—oceans, forests, creatures, etc

76. Ibid., p 27

77. Victor Turner, Dramas, Fields and Metaphors, p. 244

68 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

78. Ibid , p 269.

79 A. Chakravarty, ed. Tagore Reader, (Boston Beacon, 1966), p 366

80 S.V. Ramamurti, The Hindu, Oct 4, 1941 ‘Medium of Music—Mr. S V Ramamurti's Advice’

81 Cited by J. Peter Burkholder, ‘On Interpreting Music in an Historical Framework’ quoting Johannes Mattheson, 1739, in Soundings LXX no. 1/2, Spring-Summer 1987, p. 215.

CHAPTER THREE

Tyāgarāja’s Thanjavur in

a Global Perspective

The ‘historical sense’ that you seem to value, is by no means static The idea of ‘fact’ has a history of its own. Even the

‘miraculous’ biographies have their own sense of ‘fact’ and we can’t dismiss them as ‘unhistorical’…1 A K Ramanujan

History, Mythistory and Ahistoricism

THE fully detailed story of global enterprise, colonization and trade in the time before and during Tyāgarāja’s life is beyond

the scope of this study. Yet the Thanjavur of Tyāgarāja’s days cannot be severed from the story of Westerners in India, any more than

that story can be cut off from Westerners’ other activities elsewhere in the world at that time—they are pieces of a whole, parts of a larger

dynamic. There are globally interrelated non-linear dimensions of the story which are elusive, and interfaces which seem to defy attempts at

reconstruction, for colonialism is a shared culture, despite such attitudes as British isolationism and brahmin elitism.

European colonists arriving in the subcontinent, struggling with each other for control of trade, becoming entrenched in Indian soil,

fighting with rajas and sultans for political power, and finally dominating the scene—these activities form an essential element in the

situation of the Thanjavur principality during the time in which Tyāgarāja lived. The counterpart is the story of the Indians whose lives

were changed by such incursions and clashes, how they responded to

the new situations and reshaped their traditions It is not always easy

to trace the intertwinings of these stories; often we get depictions of

only one side at a time. The versions from the colonizers' view are part

of the discourse of 'Orientalism'—literature, knowledge and inter-

pretations useful in dominating the sub-continent The histories by

Indians of this century are often biased by nationalist notions of the

times in which they are written. 'Mythistories' (to use William

McNiell's term) which seem true to the writer and those he represents,

but false to those writing from the other perspectives, when jig-saw-

puzzled together with other mythistories, still do not add up to a

global picture, unless there are further syntheses and interpretations

drawn. The following historical sketch is composed of elements

gathered from various reports, mythistories and other evidence. As

McNeill does, I hope the ever-evolving mythistories become truer and

more adequate to the realities of peoples' lives, and seek to arrive at

more truths in the endeavour.2

One factor of our limited understanding of the period has to do

with the slippery concept known as Indian 'ahistoricism.' A number of

scholars have argued that traditionally most Hindus have not shared

the historical perspectives and concerns which have oriented Western

scholars especially since the nineteenth century. (Jacques Elull has

called history and science the dominant myths of modernity.) Records

of men's lives and written evidence of noteworthy events are often

lacking when Indologists seek historical documentation in the study of

pre-modern eras in India. There may be reflections and hints of

historical occurrences embedded in folklore but no systematic

recording. For example, over two thousand years ago, Alexander the

Great led a military campaign which changed the historical destiny of

India, but he seems to have made very little impression on Indian

literature; a few tales of yogis outwitting him are all that remain. India

is known as a place in which history is 'sabotaged,' ignored or

transcended.3 This is a very different attitude from that of the British,

for example. The British arrived with a faith in keeping detailed

records as a means of management and as an aspect of rule of law.

Their motto could have been 'define and conquer'. In 1860 a British

Financial Commissioner of the Punjab State wrote that 'the annual

papers are meant to be a photograph of the actual state of the

community'.4 Rule by record is rationally historical, a human-centred

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

71

aspiration to factual clarity; Hindu rule by myth, ritual, oral traditions

and administrative custom aspires to timelessness and cosmic appeal,

including karmic justice which no photo can capture.

Ashis Nandy, an Indian scholar, puts the question this way: ‘Are

some cultures primarily organized around historical time intersecting

with life-histories, and others around the timeless time of myths and

texts?’5 Mircea Eliade wrote a well-known book on cyclic and linear

time, The Myth of the Eternal Return, but the issue at hand concerns a

bent toward personal experience of the timeless—through myth,

mantra, music, ecstasy, and the cultivation of longing in bhakti, which

culminates in mystical experience. (One thinks of Kulaśekhara, the

king who, on hearing the Rāma story, urged his men to join him on

horseback to help Rāma though historically they lived many centuries

later ) Bhakti arts, when resorted to, take the individual out of the

historic world even for longer periods of time than the duration of a

festival. The observation of an American Buddhist travelling in India

in 1962 is perhaps typical: ‘For the Indian, all reality is outside the

social fabric, which exists at best as a kind of disciplinary religious

system for laymen, so that if you follow it properly, ultimately you’ll be

born into the Brahmin caste and from there can be reborn into non-

human higher realms’.6

Yet it would be incorrect to say that India has no historical memory

whatsoever. India’s historical sense sometimes is revealed in the works

and remembered lives of pivotal figures and spokespersons. Stories of

the past do exist, claiming to narrate what happened, especially to

kings, but this is not history as scholars of this century know it. Instead

of records there are memorials, digested, personalized history as

remembered by the poet or folk mind which orders chaos and chance,

simplifies and contrasts with symmetries, vivifies through poetic

justices in its narratives. Purāṇic myths, epics of great families, itihāsas

(‘thus it happened’) and legends do reflect moments of social change

and clues to Indian political history. Historian Romila Thapar, for

example, traced the movement from lineage-based society to a state

system legitimized by brahmin ideology in the first millennium BC

through deductive reasoning about evidence found in myths and

legends of the past Information about the lineage system was

preserved in purāṇas and itihāsas, and this tradition served as a

precedent for other forms such as historical biography and regional

histories which developed later.7

Thus, it is an oversimplification to say that the Indian bent is toward ahistoricism pure and simple. There are king's names recorded in the Atharva Veda, brāhmanas and purāṇas. There are inscriptions recording deeds associated with certain names and specific dates; many gifts to temples in South India are documented in this way, for example. But much tends toward the archetypal. Inscriptions and representations usually feature stock images of 'the king' in a timeless folk mentality rather than attempting to convey a completely individualistic person in a unique moment. Historical memory is transformed into chantable verse epics and is endlessly repeated in religious acts, its form tending more toward the timeless than toward exact chronologies. Historical events are likely to be interpreted as instances of timeless patterns; for instance, Tyāgarāja the great musician of recent times was a latter-day embodiment of the Vālmīki of old. The human vessels who are carriers of tradition are remembering voices speaking into the future from, ideally, a timeless present. Many Hindus would agree with the American Henry Ford: 'History is bunk,' or māyā (illusion, enchantment), hence they rely ultimately on something else.

J.L. Mehta speaks of the Hindu stance in this way:

Proverbially without the historical sense, Indians did not, it is true, seek to objectify their past by recording it (and this includes selective processing and interpretation, both [of which are often] dependent on un-examined presuppositions) in the form of chronologically ordered narratives. But does this imply that they retained no awareness of that past in so far as it continued to be effective in the present, and wrestled with it, or that that past was not itself constituted by remembrance of what was and by acts of free human choice?

The particularities of historical chance are glanced at, sometimes betrayed, but never dwelt on or insisted on. Yet, there was a history: a community of shared vision on the march, with memory of an inauguration, awareness of present crisis, and a voice that spoke into the future.

An inner logic governs the three millennia of religious change in India... This thread running unbroken from Vedic times to the present, is constituted by the single-

minded, unshaken will to the preservation of the dimension of the Holy in human living at all costs, leaving it to 'history' to reckon these costs as it will.8

When we attempt to reconstruct the historical background of Tyāgarāja's era in South India, we find more historical records and accounts by Europeans and other non-Hindus than by Hindus9 because of this choice or predisposition. I have used all the texts accessible to me, regardless of origin. If we remain aware that each perspective is partial, we may nevertheless improve our understanding through a study of these sources describing conditions contemporaneous with Tyāgarāja. A sketch of some occasions in this chapter of the story of 'East meets West' will contextualize Tyāgarāja's lifetime and highlight his life's work, and help us imagine the social experiences in his background. But before we examine Tyāgarāja's times, we must backtrack to earlier times when traders were already harnessing the wind and sailing the Indian Ocean to seek their fortunes and to shape others' futures.

South India Becomes

Part of the World Trade Picture

What causes people of distant regions to contact each other? Are the human motives involved simple and soon understandable? Why didn't India reach out to the West and colonize, rather than be subjugated by a small country with impressive sea power? (In fact, India knew what it was to colonize. The Cholas, at their most expansive in the tenth and eleventh centuries, extended their realm into Sri Lanka, Burma, Indo China [the Spice Islands], Malaya and Indonesia. 'Greater India,' as historians called this colonial empire, cohered, in part, thanks to brahmin ideology. The versions of the Rāma epic were woven into the lives of people in Bali, Thailand and elsewhere, and were indigenized so that Vālmīki would probably only have dimly recognized the story as his. Some aspects of the caste system and laws of dharma likewise were adapted to the colonies.) Explorers and adventurers, when able, have always gambled in the hope of being richly rewarded for taking risks, their grasps being limited only by their reach. Similarly, merchants have always stood to prosper by keeping trade secrets and furnishing rare desirables, such as spices which enhance the taste and preserve the life of food,

74

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

precious metals and gems, raw goods and fine luxuries which make life

seem enviably enhanced. What are the reasons for success? What

advantages enjoyed by successful venturers of the Atlantic seaboard

gave them the upper hand? '(1) A deep-rooted pugnacity and

recklessness operating by means of (2) a complex military technology

most notably in naval matters and (3) a population inured to a variety

of diseases.'10 This last weapon allowed conquest by epidemic. It is

easy to imagine discoveries and decisive gains by Westerners altering

old Eastern trade patterns.

The ancient origins of East-West interaction are lost Southern

Arabia was the spice trade centre for many centuries BC, then

Alexandria in Egypt grew as a major exchange point in this commerce,

until the Romans expanded their sway to the East. There was a Roman

factory in Kaveripatnam in ancient times, as archaeology has shown,

and other evidence gives proof of many interactions among traders

from the Middle East, China, India and Europe.11

By the fifteenth century, 'the most serene republic' of Venice, the

'Queen of the Adriatic' crowned with riches looted from Constan-

tinople, had become the pepper crossroads of the West. Venice was

the centre of commerce, trading with Turks and Arabs, selling to

Germans and other mainlanders, and inspiring other European

powers to expand their own enterprises.

The two Iberian nations, Portugal and Spain, had great success in

overseas ventures. Portugal's King Henry the Navigator (d. 1460),

jealous of the Venetian gold income, developed his people's ship-

building capacity, and secretly accumulated systematic data about

oceanic winds and currents, leading to a new period in the global

history of humanity. Henry sent out voyagers who explored the

African coast, a venture which brought back gold from Guinea and

increased the importance of two port towns, Lisbon and Antwerp, as

financial centres. The Portuguese also attempted to send ships to India

to take the pepper trade away from the thriving Arab merchants and

to break the Venetian monopoly. An 'ocean frontier' lured fortune

seekers toward distant horizons.

The Spanish were also showing enterprise and energy. Christopher

Columbus, inspired by Joachim of Flores' religious ideas of a new age

dawning, sought a shorter route to the precious spice markets and the

unconverted souls of the East Indies. He failed, finding a 'new world'.

The explorer Cortez, overtaking the Aztec empire, and Pizarro, the

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

75

Incan empire, in the first half of the sixteenth century, found sources

of gold and silver to bring back to Europe, and promoted a great

expansion of the Christian Church. With idealism to lead the energies

of the imagination, and greed to heap up gold to pay for materials and

military force, European explorers and conquistadors took giant steps

into new realms 'The race between the West's growing power to

molest the rest of the world and the increasingly desperate efforts to

stave Westerners off' was underway.12

Over thirty years after Henry the Navigator's death, Vasco da

Gama, in a voyage from 1497 to 1499, sailed to India and reached

Calicut on the western Malabar coast of India. Asked by an Indian

prince about his purpose, he said he had come for Christ's sake and

for spices (The British too would soon mix noble sentiments and

desire for commercial gain in rationalizing their presence in far-flung

lands.) The prince asked da Gama for gold in return for the spices and

the Portuguese, who had expected easy pickings, left in bitter dis-

appointment. A few years later they returned with gold to trade for

spices and with arms to sink the rival Arab spice trade vessels. They

commandeered the pepper trade and returned to Portugal with a

cargo of pepper and other spices, goods with a market value of sixty

times the cost of the voyage. They captured Goa in 1510 and Malacca

in 1511 and Ormuz on the Persian Gulf as well. They soon had

settlements in China, Japan, Brazil and Africa as their empire grew.

The rivalry over trade rights intensified as the English, French and

Dutch grew more concerned with distant lands. Besides pepper, there

were the 'luxury spices'—cloves, mace and nutmeg from the eastern

Indonesian islands, and cinnamon from Sri Lanka. These exotic spices

could not be grown by Europeans Pepper, for example, only grows

near the Equator. Magellan, a Portuguese voyager in the early

sixteenth century, sailed west and reached the Spice Islands, the only

land at that time where cloves grew. Cloves were used as an antiseptic,

and were thought to be a defence against the deadly plague; they

stopped the pain of toothaches, and were also considered an aph-

rodisiac. Cloves were one of those exotic items, multipurpose stimu-

lants for which some would travel months and others would pay

dearly.13 In the early 1600s Dutch power to trade in the Indian ocean

increased. The Dutch became involved in contract disputes in the

spice trade and with guns and ships established a monopoly on cloves.

They took Malacca from the Portuguese in 1641 and for a while

dominated the Indian Ocean. The English East India Company was

formed and chartered in 1600 to exploit the new sources of wealth and

power which were opening, including the spice trade in Asia then

dominated by the Dutch, the Spanish and the Portuguese. In South

India the English were interested in profiting from cloth production.

The Dutch and Portuguese established plantations in the Caribbean to

produce sugar and spices, and the English and French developed com-

mercial agriculture in settlements based on Negro slavery. The

transactions went on in circles: taking raw goods from India to

Europe, taking cheap textiles from Europe to trade in Africa for

slaves, taking slaves to sell in the Caribbean, returning to Europe with

sugar and rum made by slaves…

The English East India Company founded factories in India at

Masulipatam, Surat and Pettapoli in 1610 and 1611 and began

dealing in spices, gaining a monopoly in the pepper trade, and

doing business in calicoes, indigo, raw cotton and silk. The

Company defeated the Portuguese in India in 1612. In 1639 it

received permission from a local ruler to establish a trading post at

Madraspatnam, a fishing village which was to become Madras, an

important centre in Tamil Nadu. The English East India Company

expanded its enterprise as British shareholders funded more trad-

ing. Pepper traders of London and Amsterdam borrowed a French

word to characterize their ventures, and what Marx was to call

'capitalism' was born, and these European 'trade diasporas' con-

tinued to change the world.

The Origins and Fortunes of

Maratha Rule in Thanjavur, and British Entrenchment

The eastern seaboard or Coromandel coast port towns provided the

most promising sites for the Dutch, British, Danish and Portuguese

traders to develop settlements from the early seventeenth century

onward. The Thanjavur hinterland was described by a European at

this time as prosperous, with the Nayak ruler's troops in evidence, but

without a single cannon to be seen. During this time, the Mughal

empire, whose conquest of India spanned the years 1526 to 1688,

pushed south into Karnataka and along the Coromandel coast. While

the Mughals had a unifying effect in the north, they were a disruptive

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

77

force in the south, where complete hegemony was beyond them. The

Thanjavur rulers-first, the Nayak provincial viceregents of the

waning Vijayanagar empire, then after 1675 the Maratha kings-faced

political threats from all sides-Muslim, European and Hindu-as

well as natural destabilizing forces such as famine. By the time of

Tyāgarāja, the British, who were taking over the reins of power,

inherited and built upon a system already long in place, a mode of

organization which the historian Burton Stein has characterized as the

'patrimonial' system.

The roots of the development of this patrimonial society would

seem to go back to the Vijayanagar era (1500–1675). This patrimonial

system consisted of a political economy, social relations in the forms of

wealth, advantage and property among certain groups and seems to

have been the preferred form of government of Nayak representatives

of Vijayanagar, Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan, as well as the Peshwa's

Maratha regime. In Weber's terms, patrimonial authority forms a

transitional bridge from communal patriarchal polities and properties

to more modern bureaucratic governments. Stein describes the

patrimonial system of political economy as ruled by a military

commander and organizer of resources to sustain military forces. This

form was one of relatively, not absolutely, dominant rule and the ruler

relied on alliances with other persons of power. The operating style of

the patrimonial administration was as an extension of the ruler's

household and kinsmen (hence the term 'patrimonial').14

The early Maratha rulers of Thanjavur (c. 1675–1833) found

elements of this governing style necessary to the situation there-al-

liances and administration by extension of the household; later

Maratha rulers became powerless puppets. Their story reveals much

about the conditions leading up to and during Tyāgarāja's time.

The rise of the Marathas in Thanjavur must be traced from the

Maratha soldiers and administrators who worked for Hoysala and

Vijayanagar kings, as well as for Ahmadnagar and Bijapur sultans.

Śāhajī I was a Hindu soldier of fortune whose leadership made him the

hope of Hinduism in the south. He was employed as a general by the

Mughal Sultan of Bijapur who reigned from 1636 to 1661. Śāhajī, the

founder of the Maratha dynasty, was rewarded for his military

leadership and prowess by being given the governorship of newly

acquired areas in the southern Bijapur province, in the Karnataka

region. In 1680 Śahajī's son Śivajī received from his employer and ally

all the territories he had conquered in the Karnataka region as well as

the Thanjavur kingdom. In time, growing more independent, Śivajī

became the enemy of the sultan. Śivajī, championing resurgent

Hinduism, led Maratha warriors from the hills southeast of Bombay in

guerilla strikes which the forces of Emperor Aurangzeb could not

curtail, conquering and setting up an administration of the Karnataka

region to strengthen his military and political position. The Marathas

thus began to establish a loose but viable hegemony over central India.

In 1667 Aurangzeb confirmed Śivajī’s title of raja, and in 1669 Śivajī

compelled both Bijapur and Golkonda to pay tribute to him. In 1670

Aurangzeb announced his plan to stamp out the Hindu faith from his

realms, and many great temples were demolished.

On 25 January 1668 the king of England wrote to Śivajī, as the

Maratha prince was planning to extend a southern base for his family’s

rule, and asked him to grant facilities to the East India Company for

trading. Śivajī, who was crowned maharaja in 1674, granted the British

permission to conduct trade, but not to land armed personnel. In 1673

the Nayak throne in Thanjavur city was seized in a southward thrust

by Śivajī’s brother, Ekojī. The Maratha dynasty in Thanjavur would

last for one hundred and fifty years.

From 1676 to 1683 Ekojī ruled in Thanjavur and Maratha in-

fluences began to colour music and the arts. Ekojī fought the

encroaching Muslims pushing down from Mysore to the north and the

threatening forces of Hindu Madurai to the south. Venkaǰī died in

early 1686, and Śāhajī II became maharaja. Śāhajī II is considered by

most historians to have been the ablest Maratha ruler of Thanjavur. It

is said he kept forty-six scholars active, (including the renowned Rāma-

bhadra Dīkṣitar,) working in Sanskrit, Tamil and Telugu. Śāhajī

introduced Maratha brahmins to the south to establish a new system

of revenue administration. In 1688 Śāhajī submitted to Aurangzeb,

continuing to rule, but becoming a tributary of the Mughal empire.

Śāhajī’s brothers, first Sarabhojī and then Tulajaǰī succeeded him and

benefitted from the order Śāhajī had established. Tulajajī I, also known as

Tukkojī and Tukājī (1727–1735), promoted music and other arts, and is

credited with writing a musical drama in Telugu, which had become a

favoured language for lyrical expression during the Nayak reign.

In 1730 Thanjavur was the site of famine, with starvation leading to

pestilence, and destitution increasing the slave trade, evident in the

port town of Nagapattinam.

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

79

Tulajājī I had five sons, two legitimate, and three illegitimate. One of the latter, Pratāp Singh, born to a 'sword wife,' ascended the throne in 1739 after deposing the weak Saiyajī A historian has referred to Pratāp Singh as 'the wily Tanjorean'. Pratāp Singh's son was Tulajājī II, who ruled for over two decades, during which time Hyder Ali invaded twice. During his reign the kingship grew weak, and he became a melancholic recluse, seeking escape in intoxicicants. Tulajājī II was the king who granted Tyāgarāja's father a house and a piece of land in Tiruvaiyaru.

In 1749 the English, who had begun with the stated interest of merely conducting trade without employing armed personnel, sided with Kattu Raja, a rival trying to usurp the Thanjavur throne. He promised to cede land in Devakottai to them in exchange for their help. So they fought against Pratāp Singh, attacking Devakottai but failing to take the fort (surrounded by a mile long and eighteen-foot high wall) on the first try Their shame drove them to return and prove their manhood and at last they acquired it.

The European trading companies' local officials responded to strife between Marathas and Mughal forces by building forts of their own and recruiting armed forces of 'sepoy's—Indians trained in European military fashion. The home bases in Europe were reluctant to finance distant armies, but the British and French officials found that by conquering territories and collecting taxes, the armies could be self-sufficient.

The English next found it necessary to join with the Muslim forces of Muhammad Ali Walajah, who became Nawab (Muslim governor) of Karnataka in 1752, and with the Thanjavur raja also, to fight the French in South India. In 1749 and 1758 the capital was besieged and parts of Thanjavur State were occasionally ravaged, in the power struggles among these vying forces.15

Although Thanjavur had witnessed Muslim, Andhra, Maratha and European 'outsiders' occupying the delta area for generations, the clashes of intruders must have been increasingly threatening to the most conservative of Hindus.

The British at first adopted some Indian customs of dress, and supported temples, even if they did represent a foreign presence, with different values, authorities and language. Elite South Indian brahmins are thought to have generally experienced little challenge to their way of life at the time, but seeing Hindu royal power with its system of caste dharma decline cannot have made those with interest in either status or

Hindu sacred traditions feel comfortable. The Company is said to have had a rather limited impact in the face of local powers before 1850. While much of the 1700s in South India seems disturbed by sporadic political chaos and anarchy, village life went on, preserving traditional order as well as possible. Conquest in India preceded East India Company policy, according to many historians, because it was driven by alliances among and initiatives by merchants and petty rulers outside East India Company control.

By the 1700s, there were over a dozen European East India Companies jostling for trade in the East. Arriving not long after these harbingers of change were religious men, whose mission was to convert the natives into good Christians. Some, like Roberto de Nobili, the Italian Jesuit who had lived in Tamil Nadu (in Madurai) during the first half of the seventeenth century, experimented with public relations ploys—floating different images to try communicating the 'news' of Christianity. He first presented himself as a noble raja from the West, then later he tried living as a Christian sannyāsin. Others skipped the indirect approach and converted the poverty-stricken low-caste, who had more to gain, but whose low status would hinder prestige-conscious upper-caste members from conversion.16

During Śāhaji's reign (1684–1712) there was a persecution of Christians. They were made subject to a special poll tax, their churches were pulled down, and some were imprisoned. Missionaries implored Muslim authorities to restrain Śāhāji, a tactic which seems to have succeeded. The reason for the anti-Christian attitude is said to have been the communal discord they sowed among Hindus, and the trickery practised by them in their appearance and claim to be 'Roman Brahmins,' as well as their denigration of Hindu deities and customs.17

Into this world of battles for men's souls and cloth, spices and gold, among contending Companies from Europe and opposing Hindu and Muslim rulers who were often more skilful at taxing than defending the people, in 1767, Tyāgarāja was born in Tiruvarur, just a few miles from the town of Thanjavur. At this time, suspicious signs regarding the British East India Company's designs and tactics in India began to trouble people such as Adam Smith in England and even distant observers in America: 'It is said that the great riches acquired in the East Indies are not obtained by mere trade, but chiefly by rapine, and plundering of the poor innocent natives,' a report published in the colony of Virginia suggested.18 The French leader Dupleix signed

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

81

exclusive contracts of trade with Indian princes, and the British followed suit, bringing on a trade war. During the 1760s and 1770s in Europe, America and in India, the British and French intensified their rivalry, reaching for the same promising territories. Excited adventurers rushed off to seek distant niches of glory—some disappeared, some returned crippled or diseased, some reappeared after years in 'the colonies', crowned with success, 'surrounded by Oriental wealth and Oriental luxury, which dimmed even the splendour of the most wealthy of British nobility.'19 The fortunes of future empires were at stake. Individual adventurers' lives show something of the tenor of the times.

For example, the British commander Lord Cornwallis in one fateful fight in America lost Yorktown in 1781, was disgraced, and as a demotion was reassigned to India, where he systematically violated the Pitts Act forbidding acts of war, ultimately provoking Indians to fight England and England to conquer India Another example was French Commander Thomas Lally. Disliked by officers and soldiers for his ferocity and pride, Lally trampled on Indian traditions, thus ruining French alliances with the rajas His attack on Thanjavur failed, and he was defeated by the British and besieged in 1761 in Pondicherry on the Bay of Bengal and then was taken to London as a prisoner. Accused by his own nation of treachery, he insisted on returning to France where he was ignominiously beheaded.20 The French signed a treaty in 1763 ending the Seven Years War, signalling their defeat in Europe, America and India.

The British occupied Thanjavur as allies of the nawab, or Muslim governor, of Arcot, when, in 1773, the Hindu raja did not pay the entire tribute due to the nawab. At that time, the raja, Tulajājī II, was suspected of intriguing with Hyder Alī of Mysore and with fellow Marathas trying to get military aid. The nawab usurped the throne and held it until 1776, when the British restored Tulajājī, and he placed himself trustingly in their helping hands.

The European settlements on the Coromandel coast continued to develop over the years into 'civilized' enclaves; after the 1780s Madras was said to be virtually an Indian replica of an English provincial town Thanjavur, on the other hand, was a 'native' capital in the hinterlands, long important to Indians but without all the comforts foreigners were accustomed to. From 1780 to 1800, British influence increased in Thanjavur state. The weak Maratha raja was king mostly in name, and he needed the British to survive. English was being taught in the 1780s by Schwartz and other European teachers to

82 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

brahmins and vellālars preparing for positions in the fast-growing Company administration. By 1818 the East India Company functioned as the unchallenged authority in India, a nucleus form of the British Raj empire to come, and the Thanjavur Maratha raja, like many others, was kept in place as an instrument of Company rule.

The Ascent of Hyder Ali and the Tensions of the Time

Hyder Ali has been called brilliant, and also cruel; he seems to have had the subtle wiles of a crafty strategist and the ruthless harshness of a severe punisher. Hyder began his astonishing rise to power as a Muslim soldier-adventurer who opportunistically gained control of the previously unconsolidated Mysore uplands. His appetite for power grew with his success and he soon troubled both the Nizam and Maratha realms to his south and east. From his Mysore stronghold he attempted to gain more territory in southern India. He succeeded in dominating the Malabar coast and occupying Calicut. He fought with the British in Madras from 1767 to 1769, and then again, siding with the French, from 1780 until his death in 1782. Hyder's son Tipu then carried on, waging a series of four Mysore Wars.21

With these hostile forces in interaction, a continual supply of European personnel was needed. To meet the growing demand for reinforcements of troops to fight Hyder Ali and the French and the local people, the general practice of the British became 'kidnapping, or crimping [recruits] as it is technically called... whether for the colonies or even for the king's troops, and as the agents employed in such transactions must be of course entirely unscrupulous, there was not only much villainy committed in the direct prosecution of the trade, but it gave rise incidentally to remarkable cases of robbery and even murder.'22

Not limiting its ruthlessness to shanghaiing soldiers, the 'Honour-able' East India Company is said to have profited financially from such tragedies as the severe famine in Bengal during 1770–1, when over three million men perished. The East India Company's policies in India, and the Company's favoured position in the 1772 Tea Act sanctioning privileged direct selling of tea from India, a policy which injured American colonial importers, angered many anxious and resentful Americans. They began to voice concern that they somehow

must avoid the fate of destruction which India was suffering at the

Company's hands. Arguably the single most significant symbolic act

of defiance and independence in America's history, the Boston Tea

Party, featured men dressed as Red Indians dumping tea in the sea,

with the slogan 'No taxation without representation'. This event was

part of a larger story in which Asia, Africa and Caribbean countries all

played a part, one of colonial power struggles and 'native' losses and

demands.

The East India Company and the Muslim nawab ruled Thanjavur

from 1773 to 1776, during which time the nawab's creditors are said to

have 'peeled the country to the bone'. The East India Company then

found it convenient to re-position the Hindu king Tulajāji II on the

throne and to sign a treaty making Thanjavur a protected state. In this

year (1776) when Tyāgarāja was nine, there was a famine in Thanjavur;

rice production was down twenty-five per cent. But this was only

the beginning of greater disasters for the people of the Thanjavur

principality. According to some, Thanjavur takes its name from tanjam,

meaning 'refuge,' and thus is the 'City of Refuge'. Others say Tanjan

was a local rākṣasa or demon slain in time immemorial by Viṣṇu.

While Thanjavur was a refuge for migrating artists, pundits and

musicians in peaceful times, during Tyāgarāja's youth the titanic

spectre of war disturbed the sanctuary and there was much less shelter

to be found there.

Schwartz—A Westerner's View

of Thanjavur in Tyāgarāja's Time

A chronicle of these disastrous times was written by Christian

Frederick Schwartz, a missionary who lived through the events. His

works give us some useful perspectives on these times. He lived for a

number of years in the city of Thanjavur and wrote memoirs. He knew

both Hindu and Muslim rulers. Schwartz was born in Sonnenburg, in

the electorate of Brandenburg, Prussia, on 26 October 1726. He was a

Lutheran who studied Tamil for a Bible-translating project and then

decided to become a missionary. After being ordained in Copenhagen

in 1749 and studying English in England for a time, Schwartz

embarked for India, arriving in Tiruchirapalli in 1750. He was

stationed first in Tranquebar, then in Tiruchirapalli His initial visit to

Thanjavur was in 1762 when he met Dutch and Danish clergymen.25

The admirable character of Frederick Schwartz is attested to by his

contemporaries of various nationalities, including the wily Muslim

ruler Hyder Ali, who called him a 'holy man'26 Writing from

Thanjavur during his tour of South India in 1826, Bishop Reginald

Heber, after surveying the fruits of Schwartz's labours, was so

impressed with his accomplishments that he shed his scepticism and

called him 'really one of the most active and fearless, as he was one of

the most successful missionaries who have appeared since the

Apostles'.27 Schwartz was so respected by such a variety of people that

we may be reasonably sure of the trustworthiness and reliability of his

eyewitness accounts.

In 1772 Tulajājī, the king of Thanjavur, asked Schwartz to officiate

at a wedding between a European officer in his army, Captain Berg,

and the daughter of another officer. At that time he preached a

sermon which was said to have impressed 'all classes in Tanjore, native

as well as European'.28 His steady work over the years also earned him

abiding respect from many.

In 1779 General Munro, the British officer in Madras, sent for

Frederick Schwartz, asking him to take a message to Hyder Ali, who

was suspected of planning war. Schwartz was asked to perform this

mission because of his reputed trustworthiness and impartiality, his

lack of susceptibility to bribery and his ability to speak without inter-

preters.29

In Thanjavur from 1780 to 1783, 'there was famine in the district

owing to the devastation of the surrounding country by Hyder Ali's

troops. The irrigation works were destroyed; the cultivators forsook

their fields and fled to the towns; and scarcity of food was as if there

had been a failure of the monsoons'.30 Tyāgarāja was thirteen to

sixteen years old at this time, living in the Thanjavur kingdom, and

composing his first songs, according to some traditions. Namo namo

Raghavāya is said to be one of his first. In it, Tyāgarāja employs a

simple folk tune and rhythm, and praises Rāma as 'friend of the poor,'

'the multitude's saviour,' 'the demon's slayer' and 'the divine' pro-

tector'. None of Tyāgarāja's songs have been conclusively linked to

exact composition dates, though musicologists and oral traditions

draw such links. It would seem that a sensitive perceptive person

seeing such suffering of 'the poorest, and lowliest, and lost,' and facing

repeated disturbances would sympathize and seek traditional ways to

keep alive a way of life with its link to the holy. Would Tyāgarāja have

considered the distress as a generalized threat to the status quo posed

by any warfare at any time, and intrusion by any kind of foreign

presence as dangerous to the equilibrium of one’s small community?

What outlook did Tyāgarāja have, as a brahmin in a village which had

more advantages than some others? Did the chaos of invaders,

burning, raping, looting, converting and taking captives seem like the

usual confused world of war and change in the Kali Yuga? On the

material level, some Hindus would adapt and survive first, and ask

questions later But would not a dedicated brahmin like Tyāgarāja

have cared not just about the physical survival of his community but

also of its traditions? The tenor of his work, much of which was

produced in the peaceful times of his maturity after the political

calamities of his younger days were over, suggests this was the case, as

we shall see.

Schwartz described the conditions in 1781, when Hyder’s forces

were in the vicinity, and many people lived on scant provisions inside

the fort of Thanjavur. He explained that local villagers would not

allow their bullocks to be used for transporting available grain in

adjacent areas, because previously, in bringing their paddy to the fort,

‘the rapacious dubashes deprived them of their due pay. Hence all

confidence was lost.’ Tulajājī II, the king, could not, by way of his

managers, persuade the villagers to help. He asked Schwartz to

intervene in this crisis in which ‘the seapoys [native troops] fell down

as dead people being emaciated with hunger...’ and the ‘streets were

lined with dead corpses every morning’. Personally promising to pay

anyone whose bullock was taken by the enemy, Schwartz was able to

get together over a thousand bullocks in a day or two, and the fort was

saved from starvation. For six months Hyder was the master of the

Thanjavur kingdom, though he never took the fort. His men destroyed

villages, cut reservoir banks, threw bodies in wells. With economical

logic, Hyder converted thousands of Hindu boys between the ages of

eight and ten, old enough to be ripe for initiation. These filled out the

ranks of the ‘disciple battalions’ in the future reign of Tipu Sultan,

Hyder’s son, who, reputedly, was even more enterprising than his

father.

The next year, with Major Alcock commanding the fort, the crisis

recurred, and the people trusted Schwartz enough to come forward

with their cattle again. Again, Schwartz had his followers conduct the

inhabitants to their destination at the risk of their own lives, for no monetary reward.34

Hence, regardless of the fact that previous Telugu poet-saints, including Pōtana (fifteenth century) and Rāmadās (seventeenth century), had set a precedent in refusing to entertain the court, it is no wonder that Tyāgarāja chose to take an independent stance and depend on the community of believers for his daily rice. In this crisis Tulajājī II could not command enough respect to obtain bullocks from his subjects to get grain for his own capital and fort. Tulajājī was helpless in the face of destruction of channels and embankments, pillage, and the decimation of his population. (Two million lived in the realm before Hyder's arrival; perhaps five hundred thousand lived there twenty years later.35) The king's powerlessness was made all the more apparent by the series of crises which beset the throne—being forced to pay tribute to the nawab, being dethroned, facing invasion by Hyder Ali, being reduced to 'pecuniary distress' and other indignities He is described by Schwartz as a slave to the brahmins, unable to leave the palace at will, and as having 'retired in hopeless despondency to the recesses of his palace,' becoming remote from the people.36 With this in mind, it can be said that at the formative age of fourteen or fifteen, Tyāgarāja would not have been an unusual inhabitant of Thanjavur if he had little faith in the ability of the king to be his protector and supporter; we may conjecture that this experience was one which entered into the formation of his later stance of refusing invitations to perform for the king, and instead relying on the way to be opened by bhakti.

When Hyder Ali invaded the Karnataka area, it was said that 'the Tanjore kingdom suffered perhaps more cruelly than any other tract'.37 During 1781–3 the production of rice was one-tenth the usual amount; the entire country, except for the capital, was occupied by Hyder's troops from May until November 1781, and nearby British garrisons were captured. In February 1782, nearly 2,000 men fighting under Colonel Braithwaite attempted to defend Thanjavur from Tipu Sultan. According to British sources, Tipu surrounded them with 20,000 horse and foot soldiers and 400 French soldiers and wreaked 'horrid carnage'.38 When 65,000 of the people fled—flight being the last resort for defenceless peasants—and the king could not entice them to return, Schwartz was asked to intervene, and at his behest, thousands were found where they hid and persuaded to return

and to begin cultivating rice again. Schwartz was also instrumental in

forming a court of justice for the king; while Schwartz was trusted as fair

and impartial, the king's ministers were known for their corruption.39

It would seem that for the Thanjavur region these were years of

sorrow and anxiety. 'As the famine was so great, and of so long

continuance, those have been affected by it who seemed to be beyond

its reach. A vigorous and strong man is scarcely to be met with: in

outward appearance men are like wandering skeletons,'40 noted

Schwartz. Having had the foresight to buy large quantities of rice

before the war, he often fed one hundred and twenty people a day

from his granary; sometimes the number grew to eight hundred.

When it is considered that Hyder Ali has carried off so

many thousands of people, and that many thousands have

died of want, it is not at all surprising to find not only

empty houses, but desolate villages—a mournful spectacle

indeed… We have suffered exceedingly in this fortress

from hunger and misery. When passing through the streets

early in the morning, the dead were lying in heaps on the

dunghills… such distress I never before witnessed, and

God grant I never may again.41

Schwartz noted that his congregation was increased by one hundred

new members during this time, but admitted that the people were

driven to his church by hunger; with their mental powers diminished

by the famine, it was difficult to teach them even the rudiments of a

foreign faith.42

Schwartz was instrumental in the rescue of Tulajājī II's son

Sarabhojī II (often spelled 'Serfoji') from the self-serving plots of

Amara Simha, Tulajājī's regent, who took power when Tulajājī died in

1787, and Schwartz served as tutor and protector of the prince.

(Sarabhojī II was a good student, mastering several languages and

showing an interest in western sciences. In 1798 Sarabhojī was made

raja. In 1799, the same year that Schwartz died, Sarabhojī surrendered

his kingdom to the English East India Company, receiving a good

pension in return, to spend on projects such as book collecting. The

manuscripts he gathered at his palace formed the basis of the

Saraswati Mahal Library's extensive collection in Thanjavur City

Enthusiasts of Thanjavur culture glorify Sarabhojī as an archetypal

ruler, 'every inch a prince'.)43

88

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Schwartz, after personally visiting Hyder Ali and observing his mode of government, described in writing what he had seen. He noted that fear seemed to motivate the people under Hyder Ali and that he employed two hundred underlings who carried scourges. The king would order public whippings of men who managed entire districts. He punished officers, his son-in-law, and even his two sons in a similar fashion. Schwartz described one of these punishments:

The poor man was bound; two persons approached with whips, and mangled him shockingly. His flesh was then torn with pointed nails, and after this he was flogged again. His shrieks were awful.44

Evidence abounds of Hyder's aggressive energy and Draconian rule. The bulk of the narratives seem sensationalist, and may not be as trustworthy as Schwartz's account. In memoir after memoir we glimpse a ruler strict in discipline, with great faith in punitive means to effect behaviour modification. Yet the controversy surrounding Hyder Ali and his son Tipu Sultan obscures their characters. The British had reason to paint a negative image of Tipu, whom they supplanted, but no definitive account exists, only many passionate 'mythistories' 45

Hussein, Hyder's biographer, believed that the secret of Hyder's success in war was his awareness of 'the advantages of European discipline' and the European weaponry and techniques of military organization; he employed French, Portuguese and German officers. Hyder also used war rockets, ingeniously devising improvements in them to make them more effective than the European originals. Tipu, trained by his father in these matters, also employed the most advanced technology of warfare in his time, developing war rockets further and increasing the rocket troops from one thousand to five thousand. (The 'rockets' were iron tubes a foot long and an inch in diameter filled with gunpowder and attached to bamboo rods ten or more feet long. The tubes were aimed, lit and propelled to distances of up to a thousand yards like fiery arrows. These noisy missiles are said to have skittered and snaked along the ground, some bursting like bombshells; causing panic among the opponents' cavalry.) Tipu is said to have used rockets with considerable impact on the British army (especially the Indian troops) in battles at Seringapatam.46

Tipu Sultan's ferocity is evident in the orders he issued. For example, in a letter written during the siege of Nargund, he wrote to

his officers that at the time of assault, 'every living creature in it,

whether man or woman, old or young, child, dog, cat, or anything else,

must be put to the sword...'47 Although Schwartz wrote that Hyder

Ali was 'quite unconcerned about religion. He himself has none, and

[he] leaves everyone to his choice,'48 it would seem that Tipu Sultan

perceived himself as a religious warrior; one of his official titles was

the 'Scourge of God'. Tipu tried under duress in the 1790s to use

Muslim loyalties for military discipline, but failed Hyder's strategy of

incorporating non-Muslim warrior chiefs was the successful one.

All this background information is provided to recreate the atmos-

phere of war, to indicate signs of the gruesome harshness of the times

in which Tyāgarāja was born and grew to maturity. Regardless of who

might have been responsible for any particular catastrophe, the fact is

that South India was then in terrible turmoil and the poor and pious

had little defence. The Hindus also record plunderings among

themselves In a comment in the Telugu chronicles which C.P. Brown

translated in Wars of The Rajas, after describing a Hindu warrior's

plundering, Brown writes: 'This story shows how the peaceable

innocent Hindus beheaded to each other. Such outrages were ended by

the Musulman rule, and the cruelties of the Musulmans lasted until it

pleased God that the English rule began'.49 Unfortunately, the British

were also guilty of horrible actions. One British soldier described the

following scene during the war with Tipu Sultan:

400 beautiful women, all bleeding with wounds from the

bayonet, and either dead or expiring in each others'

arms... common [British] soldiers casting off all obedience

to their officers were stripping them of their jewels and

committing every outrage on their bodies. Many of these

women rather than be torn from their relatives threw

themselves into a large tank and were drowned...50

Such depressing examples could be multiplied. Memories of this

kind of suffering are generally not preserved in historical records by

Hindus of the time; seeking release from the nightmare of historical

time's terror is their more characteristic response. Nevertheless, the

world remembers Hyder Ali, who died on 9 November 1782, after

asking Tipu to make peace with the British. Tipu sought French help,

Napoleon (1769–1821) felt the appeal of India, but decided to play no

part in Tipu's story. Napoleon had a textual handle in Egypt, by way

of orientalists' descriptive and interpretative texts; no clear intelligence reports of South India were available such as the well-ordered literature and maps he had of Egypt, only reports of chaos and conflict. The world remembers Tipu—some picturing him as a sadist, others as an idealistic hero.51 In any case, after repeatedly trying but failing to form a strong alliance with the French (as George Washington successfully had done), Tipu died fighting the British on 4 May, 1799.

Thinking about the rulers and political wrenchings of the times may not help us much to explain the genius of Tyāgarāja, though these rulers' existence and activities shaped essential elements of the time in which he lived. In response to famine and violence from the Muslim presence and the East India Company, and in reply to different times generally, a new answer was needed by Hindus. Thanjavur was changing drastically: 'No spot on the globe is superior in productions for the use of man,' wrote Colonel Fullarton in 1785. But he sadly observed that after Hyder's invasion every part of Thanjavur was 'marked with the distinguishing features of a desert'.52 Hindus needed to revive their strength, needed a stance affirming autochthonous vitality, a hopeful way in continuity with the tradition which gave enduring identity, and attitude flexible enough to appeal to a variety of people, yet faithful to orthodox ideals of the past. Tyāgarāja successfully lived out this way of living, thinking and feeling, his philosophy finding full expression in his musical compositions.53

Tyāgarāja's Response—Saboteur of Time's Tyranny

The time of famine and insecurity during Tyāgarāja's youth probably drove him to take refuge in his deity and would certainly not have given him much confidence in the king as a power on which to rely for anything. It is difficult to imagine Tulajājī II as capable of supporting a large number of musicians and artists with his patronage during every year of his reign, especially 1780 to 1783. During that time it is unlikely that daily performances by different musicians went on uninterruptedly, since even those thought to be 'beyond the reach' of the famine were said to be stricken by it, and it became a rarity to see a healthy person, according to Schwartz. Material success at that time was unattainable and unimaginable.

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91

Yet Tyāgarāja would seem to have done as Purandaradāsa and other composers before him, transforming historical and biographical experiences into devotional expressions of timeless longing, pleading, and prayer. Exclamations such as ‘Where are You? Why don’t You come to me? This is the time when You are needed!’ form the gist of many of Tyāgarāja's songs. Perhaps the growing presence of aliens made Tyāgarāja more aware of the traditional way of life. A good number of historians feel ‘modernity’ began with England's nationalism and colonialist thrust, and contact with this change-freighted mode made the colonized people, whether in India or elsewhere, more self-aware, eventually prouder of their unique indigenous heritage and desirous of independence The historian R.H. Tawney, for example, remarked that

modern social theory, like modern political theory, develops only when society is given a naturalistic instead of a religious explanation... the crucial period is the 16th and 17th centuries The most important arena (apart from Holland) is England, because it is in England, with its new geographical position as entrepot between Europe and America, its achievement of internal economic unity two centuries before France and two and a half centuries before Germany, its constitutional revolution, and its powerful bourgeoisie of bankers, ship owners, and merchants, and the transformation of the structure of society is earliest, swiftest, and most complete Its essence is the secularization of social and economic philosophy.54

The all-embracing hierarchy of human life and values is replaced by a division of realms--religion is disconnected from the state, though the state may be ‘idealized as the dispenser of prosperity and the guardian of civilization’.55 The secular hierarchies were of an order ultimately incompatible with much of the traditional order, and were sensed by some brahmins as the beginning of ruin, while others in the society welcomed the change as a first step toward possible justice and equality. The British pushers of colonialism after the mid-nineteenth century generally seem to have cultivated a self-image as agents facilitating a necessary stage en route to a brighter future for the subject societies. They were envisioning a future for the benighted natives which was to be much like the ‘present of the colonizing,

industrially advanced West,' without much concern for the 'inferior'

indigenous background which was to be expunged or superseded.

Ashis Nandy, in his exploration of the colonial mentality, shows how

such an attitude takes for granted 'the absolute superiority of the

human over the nonhuman and subhuman, the masculine over the

feminine, the adult over the child, the historical over the ahistorical

and the modern or progressive over the traditional or savage'.56

In abysmal crises which threaten communities' survival, leading

members reach not for straws but for roots, as more than one

anthropologist and historian have noted. During the famine.in Bengal

(1769–71) in which over three million men died, a European witness

commented. 'Religious ideas were the only sentiment which towered

over this abyss, where all that characterizes men had disappeared'.57

The tyranny and ravages of time seemed so overwhelming, only taking

refuge in the timeless transcendent as an ultimate solution seemed

possible. Whether one judges this to be escape, genius, or salvation

depends on one's presuppositions Judging is a luxury of the un-

threatened and well-fed, just as writing history has often been the

privilege of the victorious seeking meaning in retrospect.

In the hundreds of songs Tyāgarāja composed, we do not find very

many specific mentions reflecting those historical times. He does

incorporate English band tunes into a handful of his songs, such as

Varalīla gānalōla, Śaraśara samaraikaśūra, Gıṛṛājāsutā, Ramıñcuvāre

varurā, and Kalinarulaku, but he 'naturalizes' them, rendering them

within the strict confines of the rāga system. The historian searches for

signs, implications, hints in the cultural debris, the preserved texts and

folk memory. Some finds are tantalizingly fragmentary. For example, a

disciple of Tyāgarāja was called 'Sojiri' Sītārāmayya, whose nickname

was adapted from the English word 'soldier' Why was he so called?

It is said because he had a sturdy physique and so looked like a

robust fighter. The English presence is here associated with an

adapted word for strong men. Similarly, Tyāgarāja in hundreds of

lyrics uses only one Telugu-transformed English word: landaru,

from the word 'lantern'.58 The kerosene lantern was an invention

which was news to the region, and so the new term was incor-

porated into the language. But generally in his lyrics there are no

direct references to the wars and few signs of foreign presence in his

times. Yet it is probable that the threats and disruptions of alien

powers produced soul-searching and reconnoitring among the

religious-minded. Just as Vedic-age Aryans defined themselves in part

by self-contrast with others (the idolatrous, deceitful dasyus), so in the

face of Islamic and European threats, leaders like Tyāgarāja responded

and reaffirmed certain values and practices. The new time demanded

strong expressions of faith, and, in the face of foreign onslaughts and

militant Islam, the Hindu faith had to struggle to survive intact.

Partially in response to this challenge, the will of Tyāgarāja seized

upon, or was seized by, a style of music and a musical form which

would serve in the emerging situation and in the future, the kriti. The

kriti has been recognized as 'an integrative cultural form' which

popularized classical music and classicized popular music. It is an

'intergrading cultural form' synthesizing extremes of 'greater refine-

ment and strict codification' and 'maximum popularity and practi-

cality'.59 Through hundreds of compact and evocative kritis, Tyāgarāja

could help preserve the art, refined feeling and hope of bhakti as a new

time emerged.

From Naked Yogi to Musical Genius

Just how the English presence during Tyāgarāja's time was ex-

perienced by Hindus is a matter of speculation. Some Hindus co-

operated, loaning the Company and the Muslim rulers much of their

working capital. Districts were divided into tālūks, and each tālūk

contained a number of villages. In such a segmented society, the

central government interfered only occasionally at the village level,

where the mass of the population lived. Not too much direct social

interaction in the form of fraternization seems to have occurred at

first. 'We have no intercourse with them in society,' wrote C.P.

Brown, 'we live among them, as oil upon water, without mingling'.60

C.P. Brown, a Telugu scholar, and other European writers in South

India at Tyāgarāja's time such as Abbé J.A. Dubois, did not write of

Tyāgarāja, or collect his lyrics, indicating that he was probably not well

known outside devout Hindu circles until much later. A conservative

Telugu brahmin villager would not come to the attention of the

foreign powers. In Universal History of Music, a book by Sourendra

Mohan Tagore published in Calcutta in 1896, Tyāgarāja was men-

tioned as one of ten notables: 'Among the renowned musicians of the

present century in Southern India might be named Tigya Raj, who

94

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

was a native of Tiruvadi [i e , Tiruvaiyaru] 61 But books by non-

Indians of that time seldom mention him

Even in the early twentieth century, before Tyāgarāja became as

fully known and as popular as he is now among Hindus, the British

Tanjore District Gazetteer of 1906 devoted only part of a sentence to

him, calling him a well-known musician, not a saint ‘Tiruvadi is the

home of a good many persons well-known among natives Of these the

songwriters and singers Tyaga Aiyar and Patnam Subramanya Aiyar

and the singer Maha Vaidyanatha Aiyar were known thoughout the

Tamil country’

The same publication next devoted an entire paragraph to a ‘local

saint’ of Tiruvaiyaru, the eccentric yogi Ālkondār Paradeśi, who seems

to have been very well known in the area at the time, but is now largely

forgotten It is said that this yogi would sit across from the Ālkondār

image of Śiva at the temple’s southern gate and pass the time in yogic

pastimes He was often jailed for nakedness He entered any home or

shop he desired, and was allowed to sample any food or take anything

he wanted Though he was not easy to approach, throwing stones and

shouting abuse at the faithful who would venerate him, people

believed he was an accurate predictor of the future, and some claimed

to have seen him cause a clear sky to rain. It was said that he could sit

in the incense pit, take his limbs from his body and then reassemble

them again (This is a feat often ascribed to shamans and yogis 62) People with ailments would approach, the holy mad man would

invariably prescribe plantain as a cure for all their illnesses

When this popular saint whose life exemplified the idea that the

holy is beyond human conception and convention died in 1875, he is

said to have sat near the incense pit outside the temple, and to have

gathered an audience to watch him, his skull, according to legend,

burst asunder spontaneously 63 The Gazetteer notes that this story was

believed even by educated Hindus

Curiously, Tyāgarāja at the time of his own death is also said to have

called witnesses, and his head was said to have emitted a sound or a

light when he passed away 64 Ālkondār Paradeśi and Tyāgarāja

probably lived in Tiruvaiyaru at the same time, when Tyāgarāja was in

the latter part of his life, since Tyāgarāja died in 1847 and Ālkondār

died twenty-eight years later Today, Tyāgarāja is remembered as the

composer with extraordinary powers, and Ālkondār has largely faded

from the folk mind I suspect Ālkondār became an inexplicable

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

95

embarrassment and liability to Hindus becoming self-aware in the

context of a larger world. What was known of Ālkondār was

unbelievable and unpresentable, he represented an unusable past.

Tyāgarāja became a 'native son' all could be proud of—within the

nation-to-be of India with its regional singer-saints of times past (like

Mīrā Bāī, Purandaradāsa, and so on), and within the international

context of present and future: Tyāgarāja the creative genius who

brought the old traditions to a new fruition was celebrated as 'the

Beethoven of South India,' respectable, and exemplary. Thus, na-

tionalists of the Indian risorgimento gravitated towards him as sym-

bolic of essential Indian values.

We have seen that one of the images of Tyāgarāja which is most

vivid in the memory of South Indians is the defiance of King Sarabhojī

in favour of exclusive devotion to Rāma. Sometimes this is dramatized

by saying Sarabhojī offered him a treasure chest of jewels or an entire

village in exchange for a song in praise of the king. It is significant that

no stories were told, or no proof exists of his defiance of Muslim

powers or rebellion against British powers, though he lived in the time

of their warring presence. Though an outsider might say Tyāgarāja

defied only the weak king, this strategy of some brahmins was one of

survival rather than confrontation—if one endures, one can develop

new tactics for the future (unlike uncompromising Aztec priests, for

example, who died at the hands of conquistadors). It would seem that

Tyāgarāja confined his attention to the faithful Hindu community, and

stood in everyday life as an exemplary force for commitment to bhakti.

Twenty years of constant mantra repetition was Tyāgarāja's massive

act of will. After that, the musical possibilities stored in his creative

memory would release inspired songs. His heroism was expressed

through a life of concentration and resolve to attain vision, a life of

inspiration and the creation of a body of prayer-songs which he

taught to select pupils, many of whom, though not all, were

brahmins.

In his life, and in his lyrics, he did not take a stand against foreign

invaders or their values explicitly; instead he adhered to the perennial

values of Hinduism as he understood them, as a smārta able to offer a

way to those with religious stirrings. Devoting himself to these

values he created a body of work which helped make him a hero to

Indian nationalists of this century. South Indians in the nationalist

movement looked up to him as one of their own, a loyal brahmin

96

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

faithful to the traditions, steadfastly ignoring the immense changes going on around him—the multiplying aliens, the secular influx.

Perhaps a tradition's final prerogative in dealing with a threatening, unassimilable condition is to ignore it, to act as if it does not exist or is illusory, hoping that, in thus screening it out by non-recognition, it will go away. Ashis Nandy has written on other characteristic brahmin responses, including 'go along to get along' strategies of acting Westernized and co-operating, which allowed survival though did not win much admiration.65 If Indians could not out-strong-arm the colonizer, they could out 'weak-arm' him—satyagraha emphasizes 'perfect weakness'; if they could not outsmart him, they could out-defer him in passive-agressive agreeableness and secret reservations.

History as Kali Yuga's Dance of Death

The horror of war was interpreted by the orthodox Hindu as an inevitable aspect of karma (fate's law of action and reaction) and the Kali Yuga. For Tyāgarāja the answer was always the intervention of Rāma, who offered the only hope and so was the only attention-worthy subject for song. Another reason for bhakti's urge toward the timeless is the teaching, found in the Bhagavad Gītā and other authoritative scriptures, that one becomes whatever one thinks about. In this view, attachments—whether of affection or revulsion—limit, bind and distort the soul. Vāsanas, the impressions left by such experiences, condition future lives. With this rationale, cultivating positive bhakti feelings toward the transcendent frees one. Put another way, history hurts; love's longing transcends in triumph. Possibly as an effect of the strong Hindu tendency to value the timeless, many accounts of Tyāgarāja's life focus on the appearance of Rāma, on stories with perennial themes of personal and family situations, miracle tales and legends of musical power, ignoring the horrifying historical context of the times. One exception is S.Y. Krishnaswamy, who briefly attempts to contextualize the saint's life within worldwide political trends and cultural developments including the European Romantic Movement, and the 'accidental' rise of Britain as a world power.66 P. Samba-moorthy does not include Hyder Ali's invasion of Thanjavur in his chronology of Tyāgarāja's life.67 Most other accounts do not mention foreign invasions. It is perhaps typical of the non-historical perspective

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

97

on this topic to state that 'from the political point of view, the reign of

Tulaja was not eventful'.68 Writing in the 1920s, M.S. Ramaswami

Aiyar did make a partial note of the historic forces impinging on the

area after Tyāgarāja had attained manhood, but, curiously, he speaks

only of the British presence, as if to cast all blame on the East India

Company:

Within twenty years of Tyāgarāja's stay at Thīruvaiyaru he

felt a mighty change had been taking place in the condition

of the town and its surroundings. The people were rudely

disturbed by the political convulsions of the East India

Company. Faith in God and the spirit of self-sacrifice were

giving way to materialism.69

M.S. Ramaswami Aiyar points to complaints in Tyāgarāja's songs such

as Teliyaleru Rāma:

O Rāma, the people do not know the right path to faith,

but would rather go about the earth and create confusion.

Though they get up early in the morning, bathe in water,

besmear their bodies with sacred ashes and rose [water] as

praiseworthy men, they manifest inordinate lust for money

rather than, O Rāma, desire for your grace.70

These criticisms of hypocrisy and materialism, however, are also found

in the lyrics of Purandaradāsa, who lived several centuries before

Tyāgarāja, and they are charges levelled against brahmins of Thanjavur

by Frederick Schwartz with no reference to the East India Company

whatever. They are found also in the Buddhist Dhammapada (chs. 19,

22). Aiyar also points to Tyāgarāja's complaint that he lived in

Tīruvaiyaru, a place where 'wealth grew and men decayed'. In Tolinē

jēsina ('I have come to know the fruits'), Tyāgarāja complains that he

is experiencing the fruits of his evidently imperfect worship from

previous times:

...Belittling me among my equals,

Giving me neighbours who seek but to fill their bellies,

Flinging me into a town bereft of haridāsas,

You do not show me the way!...71

Here the haridāsa is the image of Tyāgarāja's ideal devotee, a servant

of God, not a self-seeking worldling. There are many songs with biting

criticism of people's irreligiosity, as well as self-critical songs. But none of these mention a foreign presence directly, though some veiled references may possibly be found. For example, in a song to the village goddess, Paraśaktī manupa rāda,72 Tyāgarāja pleads, 'Make the wretches who despise the innocent stay far away, O Giver of the good'. In Enduku daya rādu ('Why does your pity not flow?') he mentions that his 'body has become half of what it had been, but this reference to weight loss may be a dramatic bhakti suggestion of wasting away brought on by lovesick pining,73 rather than a literal description of famine's effects.

Tyāgarāja's most stringent invective is directed not at the violence of outsiders, but against Hindus who praise the ritual sacrifice of animals 'Are there any bigger fools than these?' he asks in the song Yajñādulu. He also criticizes those who wander like stray cattle, praising misers in order to fill their own bellies—perhaps forgivable during a famine, but inexcusable as a routine way of life for anyone who seriously claims to be a bhakta, or dependent of the Lord.

Several songs refer to the ills of the Kali age. For example in Kaligi yuntēgadā he sings regretfully: 'In this Kali age, without knowing Your mind, I reproached You,' and in Kalinarulaku he complains that in this age, it is useless to speak of God to the worldly—they have no taste for the spiritual, and only use religion for personal gain. In Sādhuñcenē he speaks of the Lord's elusiveness: 'When I was expecting him to free me from troubles of the Kali age he evaded me, without protecting me, speaking words suited to the occasion,' and in Endukō bāga he wonders 'Why is it that people of this Kali age do not realize that this body is perishable?' going on to mention the obsession with belongings, attachments and distractions common to the age.74 But it is in Idi samayamurā ('This is the time'), considered by critics to be a rather unusual and eerie-sounding song, that Tyāgarāja conjures up a haunting mood and atmosphere which reflect more anxious times:

Isn't this the time, Star of the Solar Line

Elephant-gaited one, Lord who puts down the madness

Of the Kali Yuga,—to make what you said come true...

The spirit of Kali Yuga came in person,

he figured he would stage a drama,

using humans as goats in a sacrifice of

perverse cults (Isn't this the time.. )

75

This reference to 'perverse cults' or 'evil religions' (khalamatamulu)

involved in a sacrifice of humans may indirectly refer to the casualties

inflicted by the presence of Muslim and European armies. The rare

rāga in which it is composed is called Chāyānāta which literally means

'shadow dance,' a reflection of gloomy destruction. The threatening

horrors and upheavals of the time may be fleetingly suggested in this

kriti in mythological terms drawn from the Kalki Purāna. Kalki, the

avatar of Viṣṇu who rides a white horse and conquers the demonic

forces of the Kali age, first appears in the Mahābhārata, when the earth

is overrun with barbarians and heretics at the end of the evil age. At

this time, according to the Kalki Purāṇa, 'Brahma created from his

back an evil one known as Adharma. From him Kali was descended,

foul-smelling and lustful, with gaping mouth and lolling tongue. He

begat Fear and a daughter named Death; thus were born the many

descendants of Kali, revilers of dharma who usher in decline'. Kalki is

born, makes war on heretics and barbarians, and defeats the Kali age

incarnate, though Kali escapes to another age in the future when the

cycle will all come around again.

76

Tyāgarāja seemingly has this prediction

in mind in his song about Kali incarnate, and also the promise in the

Bhagavad Gītā (ch. 5, v. 7), that when unrighteousness prospers, an avatar

will rescue the upright. Since there were no major Buddhist or Jain

heterodox movements very active at the time, the 'perverse cults' referred

to may suggest Muslims, or more probably, to the English from whom

deliverance was needed, rather than other Hindus.

In Daṇdamu bettedanurā ('I offer obeisance'), Tyāgarāja complains

that 'all the people of the village and street are not of one caste and

temperament' and pleads that Rāma take his hand and lead him on the

right path. In a good number of other songs, the prowess and

protective capacities of the Lord are praised. For example, Tyāga-

rāja sometimes praises Rāma as the 'Lion who can tear apart the

elephant-like demon hordes'.

77

Rāma conquered the unholy in

Lanka and he might do so again, in Tyāgarāja's time and place. Of

course these interpretations do not exhaust the potential meanings in the

lines: a plea to destroy the forces of evil in any form is the more

timeless gist. Tyāgarāja sacrificed specifics to speak for generations of

Hindus who would presumably experience precariousness in ever new

ways. In Tyāgarāja's view, for humans caught in the flux of birth and

death, in history, all times are times of crisis.

In an age of Muslim invasion, foreign mercenaries, puppet gov-

ernments set up by the East India Company personnel, Tyāgarāja

chose to direct attention to another, more inward, option. Sometimes

he valorized soldier imagery, transforming it into signs of the bhakti

relationship. In Baṇṭu rīṭi, for example, he asks King Rāma for a

position as guardsman, saying he'll fight the human passions, wear

divine ecstacy as armour, and wield the sword of Rāma's name as a

weapon. In another lyric in this mode, Śrī Rāmadāsa dāsobam, he

insists he is the servant of his Lord's servants. Rāma is praised as the

possessor of all powers, and Tyāgarāja rejoices that 'all communities

have joined together and with love have learned the glory of your holy

name,' for saṃsāra, the world of change and pain, is terrible, and

ultimately all depend on the timeless divine source of strength.78

Perhaps the closest Tyāgarāja comes to specific historical reference

is an image in one song which mentions the Muslim presence: a

pānaka pūjā performed on a Muhammadan street is useless.79 This pūjā

consists of the offering of flowers, which must be done by brahmins

with orthodox purity, and would be inappropriate on a street polluted

by contact with mleccha or ritually impure barbarian outsiders. But the

reference is only a brief example mentioned in passing.

But in most cases, the songs of Tyāgarāja transmute anguish and

longing into art; though they exude the highly personal human feeling

which has been contained and refined in musical and lyrical patterns,

they are ahistorical in content. Disciplines in the fine arts often result

in the creation of patterns which transcend the limits of time and

present a meaning valid beyond the dated moment in which they are

born. Tyāgarāja sang in Tiruvaiyaru in the 1800s but his songs please

many today in Madras and elsewhere. The artist experiences incidents

and then transforms impressions of those experiences into a more

abstract form in art and so he or she is able to speak to people of later

times who also experience incidents of a similar sort. A study of the

historical events which partially shaped the times in which the artist

lives can deepen our understanding of the artist's life and works,

even if the artist himself has not 'carefully cherished... bitter

memories' of specific historical realities undergone, such as disruption, famine and war in verbal records and uttered them directly in his works of art.80 But such a study may not reach a final or complete understanding of the artist's true significance. The characteristic of ahistoricism, of deliberately ignoring and not referring to historical events in works of art and literature, is, according to J.L. Mehta, 'pervasive in the Indian tradition, from the Ṛg Veda on, and is its supreme glory'. Mehta considers the most striking example of this to be the Vaiṣṇava writing of the sixteenth century—poems of Vallabhācārya, Surdās, Tulsidās and Caitanya, for example.

From our present historical and sociological perspective we can see that they were responding to a historical crisis, though the latter finds no direct mention in their work. The point [of ahistoricism among Indian saints] has been made repeatedly by Western scholars since the 19th century (when both historical and sociological outlooks were born) and judged negatively as a typically Oriental lack—from the Biblical religious perspective...81

Mehta further believes that this 'ahistoricism' is significant.

...unless we give a positive meaning to this 'lack' and understand it as a deliberate, self-conscious act of excluding the 'historical' content or context, we cannot begin to comprehend the Indian religious tradition in its essential virtue. The great saints and singers were responding religiously and creatively to an experienced crisis and thus saving their people from being engulfed in and destroyed by the immediacies of circumstance; they responded to the happening (Geschichte) in their time and were not concerned with recording this happening (history) or analyzing it. All times are times of crisis... to which the creative thinker, poet and saint respond by lifting themselves above time's ever-present immediacies, liberating themselves from them, focusing in a direction away from them—call it transcendence or inwardness—and only so saving people from being sucked up/in the morass of the historical situation's particularities.82

It is a matter of pride as well as doctrine that 'there is no history in the

Vedas' according to claims made by Hindu pundits, although Romila Thapar has shown that some kinds of historical evidence may be found there.83 The ancient aim of articulate seers has been the same as Emerson's self-professed one: 'To invite men drenched in time to recover themselves, and come out of time and taste their immortal air'.84 Some saints, such as Tukārām, incorporate more personal, more specifically autobiographical and historical references than others in their poetic works. Tyāgarāja, because of precedents and personal preference, did not emphasize historical elements in his lyrics. It is, of course, problematic to discuss the relative absence of certain topics in a writer's work; it is like the clue of 'the dog that did not bark' in the Sherlock Holmes detective case. But I can only conclude that Tyāgarāja suffered and saw his people hurt by war and famine, and he observed the disruptions of technologically advanced 'barbarians,' but he responded as an inspired artist, directing attention to bhakti resolutions which were not timebound: soaring krtiś, beautiful works of love. Despite the traumas of his times, and as Mehta suggests, in heroic defiance of them, Tyāgarāja lived to the ripe old age of eighty, and produced hundreds of these tone-poems which offer a Way to millions even today. Like the Mahābhārata story of a gift of flour shared with a wanderer in a famine–a gift so great it turned a mongoose half golden–out of suffering, Tyāgarāja created a gift which is a benediction, a gift hard to match.

Touching Home–Sources of Renewal

Tyāgarāja's era was a time of confusion in the land, of political change and cultural challenge. During this time 'the institutionalized pattern of capital increase was giving overseas merchants of the West a source of ever–renewable economic strength, ultimately inaccessible to the rivalry of any local Indic power. The Western merchants became like Antaeus to the Indian Hercules, with the sea playing the role of Mother Earth.'85 All cultures have an 'Antaean' need to touch replenishing sources for the renewal of energies.

Edward Grierson, in The Death of the Imperial Dream, pictured the British character and cultural genius in this way: 'If you live on ... an island where you cannot get more than sixty miles from the sea, the national genius is apt to be salty... The sea is a radical element which

draws men out of themselves' and the island-born British have an age-

old reputation as skilful sailors and bold adventurers. They lost battles

when fighting on land to the French and others, but at sea they lost

only to Dutch seafarers. This sea-nurtured skill carried their daring

individualism as a strong feature to the colonization of America and

India. Exulting at the British victory over Hyder Ali and at imperial

victories around the same time in Gibraltar and Sri Lanka, Horace

Walpole gloated 'we expect to be up to our ears in rubies, elephants,

cinnamon and pepper'. The world, in imperialists' fantasies, is the

victor's oyster pearly, seized from beneath the turbulent sea, a treasure

to rejoice in and enjoy. But what handful of men from a far-off home

base can rule the wide oceans for long? The colonizers built up

colonialism's self-image as an agent of progress involved in a venture of

helping disorderly 'crypto-barbarıans' who desperately needed their

stable civilization. 'Colonialism minus a civilizational mission is no

colonialism at all.'86 The tensions of hypocrisy led to pretensions of

nobility and righteousness. The colonial rulers drove the Triton sea-

chariot wielding the whips and reins of righteous discipline needed by

the creatures of the deep to accomplish the higher order otherwise

unavailable to the unruly natives. They often reminded themselves of

how nobly they shouldered this burden. The English could never have

ruled a 'continent-sized polity while believing themselves to be moral

cripples'.87 For decades they explained their noble motives.

For decades, with political power amassed by economic gain in the

colonies, by mastery of the means to sail the open seas, and by drawing

on their well-established political and economic base in England, the

British renewed their vigour repeatedly and found scope and energy to

dream of a colonially transformed future for the world. As Sidney W.

Mintz suggests in Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern

History, the popularity of tea with sugar represented the developing

freedom of the ordinary English people and it was a sign of their

expanding ability to participate in raising their living standards. The

East India Company made available Caribbean sugar and Indian tea,

raw cotton and silk to the English through an enormous machinery of

political, economic and military forces, a machinery beyond the

comprehension of ordinary people. Few could see the immense

coerced labour it took to bring tea, 'sugar and spice and everything

nice' to the cosy English home, or what it took to subjugate millions in

the tropics. It was a modern development which was beyond the

comprehension of the enslaved Africans who laboured to produce the

sugar, besides being incomprehensible to the proletarianized English

who enjoyed it.

To the Thanjavur brahmin, Tyāgarāja, whose sacred world-view was

limited to Indian traditions, how could the changes at first have been

comprehensible? The famines, when neighbours were all skeletal,

must have seemed painful signs of a decadent age, the time cycle

running down, with more and more intruding barbarians—Kali Yuga

‘personified’—driving decent souls to the only sure refuge, Lord

Rāma, the divine master who is not lost in worldly drama, but outlasts

the ages. The faith of the fathers, dharma, the faith heard, felt, sung

and recited in childhood was at stake: protected, it would protect;

abandoned, it would abandon. Tyāgarāja’s vision of Rāma was his sole

inspiring source of hope for survival and renewal for Hindu life. The

British were planting their colonies like gardens in the jungles, but not

all would grow as the British wished. A Tyāgarāja would take the

melody of the British band tune ‘In an English Garden’ and turn it

into Varalīla gānalōla—a song of praise for tradition. India became

Sītā; foreign rule was Rāvaṇa. Hindus following Tyāgarāja’s lead sang

his masterpieces dedicated to their hope: Rāma. Eventually the battles

of the colonists with the leaders of India were being fought not only

for material goods but for more—ultimately, a transformation of India

into an image of the West. Karl Marx wrote in 1853: ‘England has to

fulfill a double mission in India: one destructive and the other

regenerating—the annihilation of old Asian society and the laying of

the material foundations of Western society in Asia’.88 What began as a

drive for trade grew to a mission to transform, to make civil. Though

South India is known as slow to change, trade, schools and training

programmes, missionaries, war, rule by the British, all brought

Western knowledge and ways of thinking to the lives of many Indians.

Though familiarity with Europeans often bred contempt for their

religion, as English interests became entrenched, their influences

prevailed and real changes came. Legal reform, new concepts of

individual rights, land reform, the British ‘educational’ system—a

European value system (including secularization, the modernity of

uprootedness which has been called ‘Christianity incognito’) was

brought in by the foreigners, who employed prestigious brahmins and

puppet rulers to mediate. This system, imposed from outside, under-

cut the indigenous values, identity and self-reliance of Indians. While

it fostered peace, orderly administration and improved transportation,

it also brought servility, dependence, and internal imbalance. Tyāga-

rāja's silence about historical events in his time is a single-minded and

resolute refusal to acquiesce to the new threats or to be a stooge

humouring a materially powerful foreign ruler. The fertile vitality of

Tyāgarāja's fluid and transforming imagination shows how he dared to

be free, inviting listeners into a poetisphere of new life where forgotten

dreams are fulfilled, where shared longings are satisfied and lost

wanderers reach home, not beholden to temporary secular powers. He

worked for a revitalization of coherence in the South Indian 'maze-

way'.

'Mazeway' is a term developed by anthropologist A.F.C. Wallace89

to depict the image of time and space each human being in a culture

carries within him or her. It is an inner map which orients one's inner

sense of identity, destiny, origin, interpretation of reality and re-

lationships. Tyāgarāja's 'mazeway' is partly accessible in the words of

his songs. One must seek it also in his music. The music of Rāma

bhakti was the medium which chose him to reveal the harmony which

was absent but still seekable, a 'mazeway' away, able to resolve all

conflicts and give hope. In his music with his smārta genius Tyāgarāja

revered the infinite and eternal as Rāma, combining the stability of

rigorous discipline and the vast freedom of impulsive creativity.

Tyāgarāja in his 'mazeway' of songs filled with rasa (aesthetic mood,

essential feeling) tapped the great deep waters of his childhood in

reveries, and made an evocative Kaverī of sound available to others.

He sang songs to comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable.

Listening, others discovered 'this lake (is) within us, like a primitive

water, like the environment in which an immobile childhood con-

tinues to reside,' as Bachelard has said. Recapturing and releasing the

childhood reveries of his own life, but also the childhood of India--

reviving the Rāmāyana, the pristine time when India was new and

green, and upright Rāma ruled, Tyāgarāja sang rāga-tonalized reveries

able to calm, teach and satisfy his people by stimulating subtle

flavours, rasas, especially the moods of lōrgīng (śṛṅgāra) and com-

passion (karuṇā). He charted a soothing map, in songs which were also

the vehicle, to peace and freedom within.

To Hindus of the twentieth century, Ālkondār the eccentric yogi of

Tiruvaiyaru seemed a bit uncouth; Tyāgarāja was refinement and

culture—Hindu civilization at its best, true to itself, appealing to

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TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

South Indians seeking a viable identity. In the early twentieth century

Madras Presidency covered eastern and southern India including

Thanjavur, and almost half the population spoke Telugu. Tyāgarāja

was thus a bond between Telugu and Tamil speakers. Ālkondār's

mazeway was incoherent in the face of modern demands. His way

looked back to bewildering yogic stunts and irrational eccentricity.

Tyāgarāja's way was forward faced, making harmonious order and

peace out of chaotic dangers. In 1885 the Indian National Congress

was founded, and the seeds of independence which it planted

gradually grew. Its members could not rely on magical stories of

dismemberment which old India had loved—exploding heads and

banana-panaceas. But its members could be inspired by a master

musician who expressed the feelings of millions. So Tyāgarāja and

performances of his music became a symbol for Indian nationalism,

alongside other rallying points in the popular entertainment media

which was burgeoning. The more the British denied that India was a

single nation, the more Indians joined together to demand indepen-

dence. Strategies varied: Ram Mohan Roy, Subrahmanya Bharati, C.

Rajagopalachari, Rabindranath Tagore, Mahatma Gandhi, Sri Auro-

bindo, and Dravidian movement leaders—for the most part ration-

alistic spokesmen for a new India—indicate some of the more familiar

spectrums of responses.

Ashis Nandy in his study of the colonial mentality argues that when

psychological and cultural survival are threatened, there is a break-

down and loss of relevance of polarities such as

the universal versus the parochial, the material (or reali-

stic) versus the spiritual (or the unrealistic), the achieving

(or the performing) versus the non-achieving (or the non-

performing), and the sane versus the insane... [And] the

directness of the experience of suffering and spontaneous

resistance to it come through at all planes. When this

happens, there emerges in the victim of a system a vague

awareness of the larger whole which transcends the

system's analytic categories... the parochial could protect

some forms of universalism more successfully than does

conventional universalism; ...the spiritualism of the weak

may articulate or keep alive the values of a non-oppressive

world better than the ultra-materialism of those who live in

a visionless world.

Thus, in some circumstances, ‘escapism’ might be an ‘activism,’ while fighting for life might be self-destructive. Nandy believes these paradoxes are inevitable because the dominant idea of rationality is the first strand of consciousness to be co-opted by any successful structure of institutionalized oppression. When such co-optation has taken place, resistance as well as survival demands some access to the larger whole howsoever self-defeating that process may seem in the light of conventional reason and day-to-day politics.90

Nandy sees this as another way of restating the ancient wisdom that ‘knowledge without ethics is not so much bad ethics as inferior knowledge’. The subconscious of the ruled and its dynamics, and needs, are one side of the story. The subconscious of the ruler is the other. Critic George Steiner wrote: ‘The beasts of the deep that draw the chariots of monarchs on British colonial stamps are born of fears, of needs of mastered imagining, more radical—closer to the root—than any we can analyze or reconstruct’.91 A hope, a plan to control the forces of chaos, win in the face of terrifying risks, and to govern wildness (while living in ‘splendid isolation’) seems a theme expressed in symbols in art through the centuries, as Steiner says. ‘Yet untamed, they rise at us out of the marine trenches of nightmare’. The noble imperialist may wake up in a cold sweat, fearing he knows not what, wondering if he should call his servant’s name. The charioteer of the boundless ocean reflects the precariousness of power on the surface of turbulent change, a world ultimately beyond control. The imperialist may ride roughshod over waves of foreign lives for days, months, years, decades, but cannot escape the growing insecurities. Colonizers’ angsts include:

the reification of social bonds through formal, stereotyped, part-object relationships; an instrumental view of nature; created loneliness of the colonizers in the colony through a theory of cultural stratification and exclusivism; an unending search for masculinity and status before the colonized; the perception of the colonized as gullible children who must be impressed with conspicuous machismo... and the suppression of one’s self for the sake of an imposed imperial identity...Britannia not only ruled the

108

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

waves; for its inhabitants and for its many admirers in

Europe it also ruled the future of self-consciousness’.92

Colonists dreamed of being up to their ears in rubies in a world and

a humanity made in their own image—all a part of some divine

purpose. How long could it persist, this magical dreamlike feeling of

omnipotence and permanence, having control of the sea before the sea

would become a swamp, and the powerful ruler a Dorian Gray-like

ogre up to his ears in his own effluvium, jeered at by time and the

deeps.

For the Hindu subconscious, Tyāgarāja offered song mandalas

providing an orienting mazeway that was a restorative, a ‘tonic’.

Gaston Bachelard has written persuasively and evocatively of the

power and value of reverie, both for repose and creativity; many of his

insights about reverie can be applied to the tasting of rasas in the work

of Tyāgarāja. ‘There are reveries… which help us descend so deeply

within ourselves that they rid us of history. They liberate us from our

name… Harmonious reverie has returned us to a harmonious exis-

tence… the gentle fluency of the reverie which helps us pour ourselves

into the world, into the well-being of a world… Reverie sacralizes its

object [in Tyāgarāja’s case the loving relationship with the divine

protector Rāma]… Poets convince us that our childhood reveries are

worth starting over again’.93 As times change, and people are trans-

formed with them, often it is necessary to ‘step back to leap forward,’

and so, many South Indians, including many intellectuals and well-

educated persons in responsible positions, have found immersion in

Tyāgarāja’s sonorous religious reveries a preparation for new work

and sustenance in difficulties. The rasas they taste in his songs refresh

and fine-tune them.

Tyāgarāja’s challenge was to discover ways to reiterate the vision of

his heritage in its youth, in appealing forms which would subtly enact

a viable ‘mazeway’ for South Indians in the changing social order. As

his song Banṭu rītu shows, Tyāgarāja had faith in the holy Name as a

sword, and in divine ecstasy as a shield against all harm. Such faith was

deep in him. His years of immersion in the Name, and the climactic

visions which inspired him, empowered his curative reveries to

generate a sense of well-being. The Sanskrit saying ‘gold has acquired

fragrance’ is often applied to Tyāgarāja’s works. This is almost an

olfactory version of Western alchemy’s aurum potabile, drinkable gold

which produces everlasting youth.

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

109

Tyāgarāja's sādhana or discipline of the Name, his visions and reveries of childhood in which the Kali Yuga was alive with death and destruction, together served as the Antaean source for his songs revering the rescuer, the master, Lord Rāma. Tyāgarāja sang for all his people which in Enta rāni tanakenta he sang: ‘Come what may, go what will, I can't stop thinking of you still, Śrī Rāma!’ For the bhakta, the world's uproar is made bearable only by discovering the divine tones and can be embraced only as the intimate touch of the all-encompassing transcendent. New times are acceptable to the lover only as history which has been transformed in the heart into the new verse of an ancient song.

NOTES

1. A.K. Ramanujan, personal correspondence, August 5, 1983, Chicago, Illinois.

2 McNeill, op cit , pp 8–9 McNeill sees universal, eternal Truth as unattainable by historians But ‘truths’ are what historians achieve when they bend their minds as critically and carefully as they can to the task of making their account of public affairs credible as well as intelligible to an audience that shares enough of their particular outlook and assumptions to accept what they say. ‘Mythistory’ indicates that ‘the same words that constitute truth for some are, and always will be, myth for others, who inherit or embrace different assumptions and organizing concepts about the world ’ McNeill uses ‘myth’ to mean falsehood, whereas I use it in this book to mean a sacred metaphoric narrative with multiple meanings and uses See also Edward W Said, Orientalism

3. Mircea Eliade, No Souvenirs, tr F.H. Johnson (New York: Harper and Row, 1977) Lucian Blaga first used the term ‘sabotaged history’ p. 127

4. Richard Saumarez Smith, ‘Rule-by-records and rule-by-reports: complementary aspects of the British Imperial rule of law’. In The Word and the World, ed. Veena Das (New Delhi· Sage Publications, 1986), p. 153.

5. Ashis Nandy, Intimate Enemy. Loss and Recovery of Self Under Colonialism, p. 48

6 Gary Snyder, ‘Now, India’ in Caterpillar, No. 19, 1972.

7 Examples include Bāṇa's Harṣacarita and Bilhaṇa's Vikramānkadevacanita and Kalhaṇa's Rājataranginī See Romila Thapar, Lineage to State.

8. J.L. Mehta, ‘The Hindu Tradition: The Vedic Root,’ F Whaling, ed., The World's Religious Traditions: Current Perspectives in Religious Studies—Essays in honour of Wilfred Cantwell Smith pp.38–9.

9 C K. Srinivasan offers a good survey of major writings on the Thanjavur Maratha period—European, Muslim and Hindu—at the beginning of his book, Maratha Rule in the Carnatic

110 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

10 William H. McNeill, The Rise of the West: A History of the Human Community, p. 574

11 Philip D. Curtin, Cross-Cultural Trade in World History, pp. 109; 120–1. Nilakanta Sastri, The Culture and History of the Tamils

12. William McNeill, op. cit., p. 652

13. Sidney W. Mintz, Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History It is tempting to characterize a strand of modernity by considering the part played by a cultivation of esoteric sensations and pleasures from afar: silks, bright calicoes made for Asian eyes; sharp and racy spices, pungent, aromatic and romantic in the imagination's scheme—piquant, strong, but not bringing familiar memories, stimulants. tea, coffee, cocoa, opium, cocaine, rum, tobacco, greed‐tempting gems, gold and silver, and slaves with exotic features to be treated as objects of the owners' power and superiority. Modernity seems marked in part by the urge to forget the dissatisfactions and problems of home, and flirt with some new thing, something different for a change: addictive stimulants to give sensations of excitement, distractions promising refreshment, stops on the search for titillation. Modernity is tied to the enjoyment of strangeness, bewilderment, nostalgia for some lost wildness, a quick fix to forget a broken home, a lost rootedness and unity. Individualism's empire‐building begins and traditional communities decay at the outset of modernity.

14 Burton Stein, ‘Vijayanagara and the Transition to Patrimonial Systems,’ in Vijayanagara—City and Empire New Currents of Research, ed. A.L. Dallapiccola with S.Z Lallemant (Stuttgart: Steiner Verlag Wiesbaden GMBH, 1985), vol. I, pp. 74–5.

15. C.K. Srinivasan, op. cit., and The Imperial Gazetteer of India (London: Oxford University Press, 1908), pp. 225, ff. See also K.A. Nilakanta Sastri, The Culture and History of the Tamils, p. 40 ff.

16. Ashis Nandy, op. cit., p. 5. ‘Between 1757 and 1830…most Britons in India lived like Indians at home and in the office, wore Indian dress, and observed Indian customs and religious practices. A large number of them married Indian women, offered pūjā to Indian gods and goddesses, and lived in fear and awe of the magical power of the Brahmins… missionary activity in British India was banned, Indian laws dominated the courts and the system of education was Indian’. See also Robert Frykenberg, ‘Modern Education in South India,’ American Historical Review, 91, 1, Feb. 1986 pp. 37–65.

17. C.K. Srinivasan, op.cit., p. 230.

18. M.V. Kamath, The United States and India, Washington, D.C. The Embassy of India, 1976, p. 23. The American Tom Paine wrote in 1792, ‘The horrid scene that is now acting by the English Government in the East Indies is fit only to be told of Goths and Vandals’. Cited in V.G. Kiernan, The Lords of Human Kind Complaints of torture and squeezing the country were also made against Maratha rulers. Robert Sewell, The Historical Inscriptions of Southern India (Collected till 1923) and Outlines of Political History, pp. 286–7.

British forces were active and struggling for dominance in trade partly because of a revolution in taste and changes in trade practices. In the mid‐seventeenth century

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

111

the people of England, like many other peoples, still had a starch-based diet. Within

a century the British developed a sweet tooth The increasingly widespread use of

sugar and tea, both exotic luxury items from distant lands, was part of a

transformation exemplifying a form of modernization in which a new diet facilitated

important changes in British society and life-style Sugar-sweetened tea became a

fashionable ritual drink at one level, and a convenience food providing fast energy

to factory workers at another The booming textile mills in Manchester and other

English towns were busy turning Indian cotton into English cloth Already valued

as a preservative, sugar now became a useful item in a world growing more

concerned with controlling time by schedule work-time regulated by clocks and

bells, an idea adapted from Benedictine disciplined monastic communities to

secular production systems, demanded a change in people's eating habits. Hot tea

could be made quickly, with little fuel, even by a poor cook It was a fast food which

freed housewives from always cooking whole meals Tea became so popular that

smugglers multiplied, seeking to escape tea tax The East India Company, using

funds from the trade in opium (an export from India), had by 1766 developed a

monopoly on the tea trade in China, taking out 6 million pounds in that year alone.

This fast food revolution caused 'the creation of an entirely new economic system'

in which two exotic luxuries—tea and sugar—'swiftly became part of the crucial

centre of British daily life, the universal substances of social relationship for the

farthest flung empire in world history ' Mintz, pp 5–7, 113 Slave labour in such

places as the Canary Islands and Madeira provided the work force to make the

sugar, pp. 135–9. The word 'sugar' incidentally, is derived from the Sanskrit śarkarā,

'grit, gravel'

19 Sir Walter Scott, The Surgeon's Daughter (Boston: The C T Brainard Publishing

Co, [s.d.]) pp. 50–1.

20. Encyclopaedia Britannica 1960, vol. 13, p. 612.

21. Eliza Fay, Original Letters from India (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1925),

Letter XII, p. 114

22. Sir Walter Scott, op. cit., pp 71–2. This is a fictionalized narrative about the British,

Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan, but it depicts what was common knowledge of the day.

23 M V. Kamath, op cit., p. 23.

24. Imperial Gazetteer, pp. 225 and ff. See also Srinivasan, op. cit

25. Frank Penny, The Church in Madras (London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1904), p. 605.

For a brief life and further bibliography in German see Allgemeine Deutsche

Biographie (Leipzig: Dunker und Humbolt, 1908), vol. 54, pp 273–7.

26. Jesse Page, Schwartz of Tanjore, p. 54.

27 Reginald Heber, Narrative of a Journey Through. India, vol. II. p. 462.

28. Penny, op cit , p. 605.

29. C.F. Schwartz, Remains of the Rev C F Schwartz, p. 298. Schwartz had studied

Persian as well as Tamil.

30. Penny, op. cit., p. 609.

31. Schwartz, op. cit., p 41–2

32. Ibid.

112 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

33 Bowring L B, Haidar Ali and Tipu Sultan (London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1983), p 75.

34 Ibid, pp 42–3

35 Gough, op. cit, p 118

36 Hugh Pearson, Memoirs of the Life of the Reverend Christian Frederick Schwartz, p 264 See also Page, op. cit., p. 106

37. Hemingway, op cit., pp 50–1, ff Tiruvadi is mentioned as an area ‘most exposed’ to Hyder’s force See also L B. Bowring, op cit, pp. 99–100 ff

38. Hemingway, op cit, Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, vol 54, p. 276. See The History of the Protestant Missions in India (London: The Religious Tract Society, 1884), p 44

39. Pearson, op. cit, p 265 See also Schwartz, op cit., pp 44–5

40. Pearson, op cit, p. 223

41 Ibid., p. 224

42 Ibid., p. 223

43 Ibid, pp 54–5, 58–9 Schwartz, op cit, p 312.

When his tutor died, Sarabhojī II asked the British to provide a marble monument in memory of Schwartz, and the East India Company complied, commissioning the English sculptor John Flaxman to carve it On that monument is an inscription which mentions that ‘Hyder Ally Cawn’ had called Schwartz ‘a holy man’ who should be allowed to pass through the country freely even during war time A monument to Schwartz by Bacon was placed by the East India Co. at St. Mary’s Church, Madras While the various authorities were grateful for Schwartz’s impartial services, he himself was thankful for the relative security and comfort which he enjoyed as a missionary Schwartz is said to have had more direct success in making converts than many other Protestant missionaries in India, besides winning the respect of Muslims and Hindus alike In Cauvery From Source to Sea (New Delhi Arnold Heinemann, 1975), K. Nagarajan, using Shakespearean rhetoric, says Sarabhojī was ‘every inch a prince’. p 66

44 Schwartz, op cit., pp. 311–2, ff.

45 A typical command of Tipu. ‘You are to make a general attack on the Coorgs, and, having put them to the sword or made prisoners the whole of them, both the slain and the prisoners, with the women and children, are to be made Musalmans’. Bowring, op cit., p. 219. Tipu once deported 30,000 Christians from the coastal region of Malabar to Mysore deserts where they died of starvation, in revenge for their supposed prohibition forbidding Muslims to practise their faith at some unspecified time ‘His Majesty, the shadow of God,’ was still furious, and ‘the rage of Islam began to boil in his breast’. He sent soldiers, who, ‘after early prayers,’ seized 60,000 more people who were brought to the capital and forcibly converted, their property having been confiscated Bowring, pp. 219–21, 214–16. Hanging enemies by the hundreds, shooting them from cannons, impaling them on stakes, Ṭ’pu spread fear. His very name became a threat used by mothers in England to conjure horror in children who would not behave. Women of conquered regions refusing to become part of Tipu’s seraglio were de-nosed and placed backwards on

TYĀGARĀJA'S THANJAVUR

113

donkeys and paraded through towns as a lesson to others Elsewhere Tipu is recorded as speaking of 'women and other rubbish', it is said that aside from his mother he held women to be of little account. Bowring, pp. 126–7, 217

Not all writers have passed harsh judgments on Hyder Ali and Tipu, however. For example, the French author who wrote under the initials 'M M D L T ' was a general in charge of 10,000 men in Hyder's army, and so was also a 'court historian' of sorts He portrays Hyder as a harsh but able monarch, hospitable to European mercenaries such as himself, and the centre of the most brilliant court in India at the time Another Frenchman, Joseph Michaud, also wrote favourably of Hyder Ali and Tipu M.M.D.L.T , The History of Ayder Ali Khan (London: J Johnson, 1784), pp 29–40 Robson is critical of this book Another book sympathetic to Tipu is Mahmud Husain, The Dreams of Tipu Sultan, (Pakistan Historical Society Publications, no date, no place of publication given) See also Michaud, op cit It would seem that the British used Tipu as a scapegoat or at least that their vilification of him had political motives. See for example Marika Vicziany's 'Imperialism, Botany and Statistics' Modern Asian Studies, vol. 20, no. 4, 1986 pp 625 ff Thomas Munro summed up Tipu's career in 1799 'a restless spirit of innovation and a wish to have everything originate from himself, was the predominant feature of his character'. The Cambridge History of the British Empire, vol. 4, British India, 1497–1858, H H Dodwell, ed , (Cambridge. Cambridge University Press, 1929), p. 333

46 Meer Hussein Ali Khan Kirmani, The History of Hyder Naik (Nishan-i-Haider) tr William Miles, pp 418–20 For another Muslim perspective on Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan, see the work by Mirza Ikbal, included as a supplement to the previous work, pp. 493–512 An article in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, vol 15, p 925 discusses Tipu's use of rockets. A description is also found in Major Dirom's A Narrative of the Campaign in India... originally published in 1793 (Reprint edition New Delhi Asian Educational Services, 1985), p. 295.

47 L B. Bowring, op. cit , p. 219.

48 Schwartz, op. cit., p.308.

49. Charles Philip Brown, The Wars of the Rajas, p. 67.

50. Authentic Memories of Tipu Sultan by a British Soldier cited in Praxy Fernandes, Storm Over Serinapatam (Bombay Thackers, 1969), p.79.

51. Some recent Indian authors praise Tipu, omitting his brutality See the Author's Note prefacing Bhagwan S. Gidwani's The Sword of Tipu Sultan (New Delhi. Allied Publishers, 1978) Journalist Rumma Shyam Sundar is another example in 'Tipu Sultan—A Patriot Par Excellence' in The Hindustan Times, Nov. 16, 1985

52. Gough, op cit., p.426.

53. Tanjore Paintings A Chapter in India's Art History (Madras. Kora's Indigenous Arts and Crafts Centre, 1976), pp. vi, 2, 8. The Hindu art of Thanjavur at this time may reflect similar tendencies as well as divergent ones from Tyāgarāja's Traditionally, Thanjavur art was said to aim at gently awakening a mood of holiness, not at stunning or bewildering. 'When people feel threatened, when they lead a febrile life, glorious indeed but highly insecure, their art becomes complicated ' Feverish life would characterize the times, Tyāgarāja rose above mere reaction through the depths of his creativity.

114 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

54 R H Tawney, Religion and the Rise of Capitalism, p 15 David Ludden writes ‘The

reasons for the rise of British power at the tip of India may parallel those behind the

rise of European imperialism more generally Perhaps the foundation of Britain’s

second empire, and of others like it, rested on alliances built in the coastal,

commercialized milieus, spawned within agrarian civilizations by expanding sea-

borne enterprise On these lines we might reconceive the rise of capitalism and

imperialism together, considering both in a global context and looking for cross-

cultural intersections and alliances that brought both into being Instead of

understanding both as strictly European inventions, we might discover a global,

cross-cultural process of invention, which involved many peoples—with Europeans

as major innovators—ties by sea into one vast cultural and social system that spread

its influence from the coast inland’ op cit , p 216

55 Tawney, op, cit

56 Ashis Nandy, op cit, p x

57 Joseph Michaud, History of Mysore Under Hyder Ali and Tippoo Sultan tr V K

Raman Menon Originally published 1801-9 in French, 1826 in English (Reprint

edition New Delhi Asian Educational Services, 1985), p 53 Cf Mircea Eliade

Fragments d’un Journal, 1945–1969 (Paris [s n ], 1973), p 11, for similar statement

about World War II holocaust victims

58 landaru is found in Ēmicēstēnēmi, C Ramanujachari, op cit , p 102 Sojiri is

mentioned in P Sambamoorthy, op cit , pp 192 and 219

59 ‘The Kriti as an integrative form Aesthetic experience in the religious songs of the

South Indian classical composers,’ presented at the Association for Asian Studies in

Los Angeles, 1979, by Indira Peterson Journal of South Asian Literature, vol 19,

no 2, 1984, pp 165–79

60. Charles Philip Brown, A Grammar of the Telugu Language, p. vii.

61 Sourendra Mohan Tagore, Universal History of Music, Calcutta, 1896

62. Mircea Eliade, Shamanism (Princeton Princeton University, 1974), pp 428–9

Yoga Immortality and Freedom, pp 320, 323, 336, 347. Dismemberment and re-

integration is an important motif in stories of initiation.

63 Hemingway, op. cit., p. 278–9 A similar story is told of a more recent saint in

Penukonda in Anantapur District See Anantapur District Gazetteer, Chapter XV,

p 187.

64 Shuddhananda Bharati, for example in St Tyāgarāja, the Divine Singer, speaks of

the noise emanating from Tyāgarāja’s head, K.K. Rāmaswāmy Bhāgavatar Śri

Tyāgabrabhōpaniṣat speaks of two lights emanating from the saint’s head at his

death. Sambamoorthy, op. cit., also includes a tradition of Tyāgarāja’s spirit leaving

his body and visiting two places.

65 Ashis Nandy, op cit , pp 110–11.

66 S Y. Krishnaswamy, op. cit , pp 1, 16, 141–44.

67 P Sambamoorthy, op. cit , p. 17, does not mention the turmoil of the times in

describing Tyāgarāja’s early life M S Ramaswami Aiyar, op. cit., pp 51–52, gives a

more realistic political perspective.

68 Seetha, op cit., pp. 99–100

69 M S Ramaswami Aiyar, op cit, p 73

70 Ibid

71 Ibid This is M S Ramaswami Aiyar's translation See also ch 6 of Aiyar's book for historical background

72. Parāśakti manupa rāda, C Ramanujachari, op cit , p 51.

73 Ibid , p 358, Enduku daya rādu. See similar usage of this idea in Celimini jalajāksu, pp 479–80

74 Ibid , p 428, Sādbinīcenē Endukō bāga, p 160

75 Ibid , p 311, Idi samayamurā

76 Wendy O'Flaherty, The Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology, pp. 38–9

77 Dandamu bettedanurā, C Ramanujachari, op cit , p 465 The Lord as destroyer of the demon horde is found in many songs of Tyāgarāja, including Ēla nī daya rādu, Ibid , p 323

78 Ibid, Bantu rīti, p 467 Sri Rāmadāsa dāsobam, p 192

79 Samayamu delisi, Ibid, p 149, K V Sastri, op cit , pp. 208–9 ‘turakavidhilō viprunikı pānakapūjā’ Ramanujachari translates this as 'it is of no value if a Pānaka Pūjā for Brahmanas is done in Muhammadan quarters' Pānaka pūjā involves a mixture of jaggery, water and cloves which is distributed among brahmins

80 This phrase is from a work which describes an English woman's experiences when captured by Tipu Sultan's forces Eliza Fay, Original Letters from India (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co , 1925), Introductory Notes by E. M Forster, p 23

81 Prof J L Mehta, personal correspondence from Jabalpur, Sept 7, 1983

82 Ibid

83 It would seem to be a matter of pride for Indians to insist that 'there is no history in the Vedas' For example, Devi Chand, in notes to his translation of the Sāma Veda has repeated this statement numerous times See pages 6, 24, 30, 39, 42, 50, 128, 137, 141, 146, 187, 190, 193, 235, 255, 271 Devi Chand, The Sāma Veda (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1981) R Puligandla also writes of the ahistorical tendency in Fundamentals of Indian Philosophy (Nashville and New York. Abingdon Press, 1975) See Chapter X, 'Time and History in the Indian Tradition,' pp 243–56 See also note 2, pp 318–20, and Mircea Eliade, No Souvenirs tr. F H. Johnson (New York. Harper and Row, 1977), p. 127 On the other hand, Romila Thapar discusses historical signs in the Vedas and other early literature in From Lineage to State See, for example, pp. 10–16

84. The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson, W Gilman, A.R. Ferguson et al, eds , (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978) vol VII, p 271.

85 Marshall Hodgson, Venture of Islam, vol. III (Chicago University of Chicago, 1974), p. 149

86. Edward Grierson, The Death of the Imperial Dream (New York Doubleday, 1972), p 12 Ashis Nandy, op cit., p. 11.

87 Ibid., p 10

88 Richard Lannoy, The Speaking Tree (London, New York. Oxford University Press, 1971, 1975), p. 237

116 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

89 A F C Wallace, Culture and Personality (New York Random House, 1961, 1970),

cited by William Irwin Thompson, 'Beyond Civilization', in Quest, vol 1, no. 2,

May-June 1979, p. 69

90 Ashis Nandy, op cit, p 113

91 George Steiner, Book Review, The New Yorker Feb 2, 1987, p 95

92 Ibid, pp 40, 35

93 Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Reverie, pp 111, 99, 193, 36, 105

CHAPTER FOUR

The Musician as Mystic: Tyāgarāja’s Vision of Sacred Song and the Features of the Kriti

In this great uproar (kolāhala) of these three worlds created by the play of the Lord whom Tyāgarāja adores, Rāma-bhakti is the empire of those who attain enjoyment of it, O mind!

Tyāgarāja, Rāmabbakti samrāryamē

The Divine as the Embodiment of Music

HAKTI music is a sign of the transcendent and is an invitation to participate in larger life processes. What the English poet Robert Browning once said of the experience of the lone listener applies to bhaktas as well. ‘Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once’. With music, the bhakta’s solitude is peopled with longed-for company: the beloved of old, comforts of the future, and aspects which might be lacking in the present—peopled not by words but mood-melodies enacting an instantaneous and ongoing flight from aloneness to participation in the all-oneness. Tyāgarāja expressed his contagious bhakti moods in lyrics both precise and evocative, and in melodies which form an integral part of his articulation of devotional faith and surrender (prapatti). As all lovers of Karnataka music know, Tyāgarāja was the proponent of a

the traditional scriptures, and the Śāstras;

The nectar of beautiful musical sound

took human form in this very world, O mind!

The six plus one tones are the bells,

the noble melody, the rāga, is the bow,

the three kinds of rāgas the heavy, the delicate, the regional,18

form the bow's

triple-woven string, the rhythm of the syllables

makes up the arrows, and Lord Rāma's words,

appropriate to the theme, are delightful variations.

It is our great good fortune to worship with song

that form in this world, and Tyāgarāja worships

this nectar of beautiful musical sound which

took human form in this very world, O mind!

Music and Devotion

Tyāgarāja delighted in spreading the joy inherent in the sounds of spiritual music, and sang of it as 'nectar' in a number of his songs. For example, in Rāga sudhārasa he invites music-lovers:

Drink up the nectar called rāga

and be joyful, O mind;

It gives the fruits of rites and disciplines,

renunciation and enjoyment (Drink ...)

Those who know that the tones and the primordial Om

compose the body of Śiva, are liberated souls

—Tyāgarāja knows! (Drink ...)

And in Svarā rāga sudhārasayuta19, the saint again asserts the idea that bhakti full of sweet tones and feelings is the highest bliss. In this song we also find an idea which is voiced in Yājñavalkya Smṛti: one who

has mastered the mysteries of the vīṇā and knows well the rhythmic cycles (tāla) may easily attain liberation.20

Devotion steeped in the nectar of melodious tones and modes is supreme celestical bliss, O mind!21

To become a Wise One after many births is freedom; one who knows the rāgas and has inborn devotion is a realized soul, O mind!

The secrets of that ocean of musical tones, revealed by the Lord of the Silver Peak to Pārvatī,22

Tyāgarāja knows and has mastered; have trust and learn them, O mind! (Devotion steeped ...)

The practice and knowledge of music as rigorous spiritual practice (sādhana) is as complex a discipline as any other yoga in India. Nādayoga's roots in the ancient Vedic sense of the power inherent in sound lead one back to the eternal mantras discovered by seers; like rāgas, they are eternal, awaiting discovery and performance to manifest their sacred powers. In this view śabda or divine vibration, is the manifestation of the subtle principle of form, something like the Greek logos, the word of creation. Vibration is also the quality characteristic of ākāśa or ethereal space, the vast dimension which 'carries' sound. The anāhata śabda is the eternal and all-pervasive, mysterious ringing of infinite space, from which secondary transitory sounds come into being. Everything in existence has its own share of imperishable śabda, which is the subtle aspect of its vital principle or life-energy.

The sounds we hear are but notes caught at random, with vast spaces, as it were, between them in which beyond our hearing is their continuity. In this sense you think of existence, in terms of sound, as a tremendous, continuous pattern, of which tiny fragments are perceptible, just as the light of the sun strikes a dewdrop among leaves.23

Thus, classical Indian music is a tuning into the eternal, drawing out the essence of existence at a particular moment, harmonizing with the

deeper, unheard sound of life. The differences of the notes are usually

not emphasized through abrupt contrasts, but rather a scale of finer

intervals is employed as the tune meanders in a flow of ripples, and

extra strings on the vīṇā augment the resonance The rāga mood or

theme is varied in a multitude of cycles, not abruptly ending, just as it

did not abruptly begin, but rising into audibility from eternity, and

merging again into the mysterious infinite.

For religious Karnataka musicians such as Tyāgarāja, who aspired

so fervently to reach the Supreme, nādayoga was even more complex

and demanding than other yogas, both in strict technicalities of

performance and in the esoteric quality of conceptualization and

philosophy.

This musical knowledge would seem to be a sine qua non for

liberation, in Tyāgarāja's view. He sang, for instance, of musical

wisdom as a sure way for the ardent in Saṅgīta śāstrajñānamu:

The wisdom of music's art and science

is the bestower of the ecstasy

of sharing in the Beloved's divinity;

That wisdom, soaked in the divine bliss-ocean

of the story of Rāma, replete with

separation pangs and other emotions,

That musical wisdom bestows the ecstasy

of sharing in the Beloved's divinity.

It gives the affection of the virtuous, piety

and heartfelt love; it brings the grace

of Lakṣmī's divine consort; it will give

self-control, peace of mind, wealth of fame—

That wisdom, learned by the knowing Tyāgarāja,

and drenched in the Rāma-story Sea,

is the bestower of the ecstasy of

sharing in the Beloved's divinity…24

In Mōkṣamu galadā25 the saint asks if there can be liberation for

those who have not known release, those who have neither true

devotion nor musical wisdom. He explains that through the com-

bination of the life-force or vital breath (prāṇa) and fire (anala) the

vibration of Om manifests in the form of the seven tones of music, an

idea stated in the Saṅgīta Ratnākara.26 Then he asks: 'For those who

have not experienced the consciousness of Śiva Dakṣiṇamūrti [Śiva as

the teacher who taught by wordless silence] who is fond of playing the

vīṇā, can there be liberation--for those who have not already known

release?' In the discipline of divinely entrancing vibrations, Tyāgarāja

offered an inlet to this way of freedom.

Not all bhaktas in India's history pride themselves on expertise in

the technical knowledge of music. Basavaṇṇa, the twelfth century

Lingāyat poet, wrote, 'I don't know anything like time beats and

metre, nor the arithmetic of strings and drums... I'll sing as I love'.27

Tyāgarāja, being the link between the bhakti songsters and the

professional musicians in Thanjavur, did consider knowledge and care

in performance to be important. What is known as the 'science of

music' in South India—the intricate rules and lore, the precision of

correct performance, and the knowledge of exactly which liberties

could be taken and which could not was Tyāgarāja's forte, without

which he would not have been a master, either musically (because

the strict guardians of the discipline would have dismissed him), or

spiritually (because the beauty of the classical form preserves his vital

impulses and spiritual message). Some of his songs, such as Telisi

Rāmacintanatō and Vinayamunanu, seem perhaps too design-con-

scious to have been uttered in the abandon of a trance or passion. But

who is to say--once formal concepts and discipline have become

second nature to a composer, he may sing 'unaware' as Śrī Sathya Sai

Baba has suggested Tyāgarāja did. Ultimately it is the historian who is

'unaware' of the mental state of an artist. It is because of his musical

knowledge coupled with his inspiration that Tyāgarāja even in his own

lifetime could sing that Rāma had made his 'fame shine in far lands'.28

Songs in Praise of Bhakti Music

Most saints did not write songs about the medium of their praise.

Tyāgarāja is unique in that he wrote more than a dozen songs about

the greatness of spiritual music. These songs sum up, in a general way,

his musical mysticism.

In two songs Tyāgarāja speaks of the rāgas as beautiful celestial

maidens, and he enthusiastically exhorts his mind to attend and serve

these subtle-bodied goddesses: 'O mind be intent upon music' which

is divine, above the problems the rest of phenomenal existence is

prone to suffer. These lovely sound-shapes dance, enchanting both

Tyāgarāja and his Lord.29

In Śobbillu saptasvara ('O mind, serve...')30, Tyāgarāja further describes the seven notes and lists their residences, both internal and external:

O mind, serve and worship the beautiful shapes

of the seven tones which are shining

In the navel, in the heart, in the throat,

in the tongue, nose and other centres31 (O mind)

Shining in the world in the Ṛg, the Sāma, and

the other Vedas, in the very core

of the best of mantras—the gāyatrī,32 in

the minds of gods, brahmins, in good Tyāgarāja!

O mind serve and worship the beautiful shapes

of the seven tones which are shining, shining!

Glorifying music further, the song Nādopāsana,33 pictures music as capable of sustaining even the gods:

Meditating on musical sound

Śiva, Viṣṇu, Brahmā shine

and happily thrive, O mind!

These Veda-uplifters transcend

The Vedas, and they pervade the

Entire cosmos (Meditating... )

They are the mantras' selves,

The yantras' and tantras' selves,

And they live innumerable aeons;

They revel in melody, rhythm,

And tones, these masters of

Themselves, adored by Tyāgarāja; (Meditating ...)

THE MUSICIAN AS MYSTIC

125

Songs in Praise of Holy Musicians

In another song34 Tyāgarāja offers his homage to Brahma, Viṣṇu and

Śiva, along with others who ‘know music… know the Sāma Veda

composed by Śiva… and who know the seven tones which are made of

the divine vibration’. The other music-lovers he honours are Lakṣmī,

Pārvatī, Sarasvatī, Kāśyapa, Caṇḍikeśvara, Hanumān, Subrahmaṇya,

Gaṇeśa, Mārkandeya, Agastya, Tumburu, Someśvara, Sārṅgadeva,

Nandi and other ‘leading lights’ who know ‘the secret of the nectar-

ocean called Vast Bliss.’35 These are some of the mythological and

historical heroes of the Hindu musical tradition in India. In

Gītārthamu Tyāgarāja singles out Hanumān, the heroic simian servant

of Rāma, for praise: ‘For the sense of the song and the joy of the music,

look here, O mind! Look to the wind-god’s son

—Hanumān…’ In one line Hanumān is credited with knowing the

secrets of different religious creeds as well as being an expert at

music.36 In the Saṅgīta Ratnākara, Hanumān is mentioned as a great

musician, and in popular art he is shown with the bhajan leader’s time-

keeping clappers, dancing in ecstasy. Tyāgarāja’s songs in praise of

Nārada describe him as ‘the honey-bee in the lotus of divine sound,’37

and honour him as the master of the Vedas, of yoga, and of music.38 In

Śri Nārada muni39, Tyāgarāja sings in a mood of gratitude that he has

seen Nārada with a shining vīṇā in his hand. A number of biographies

depict Tyāgarāja’s devotion to Nārada and his receiving blessings and

esoteric knowledge from this legendary Vaiṣṇava musician. Nārada,

Hanumān, and the other exemplars of devotional music provide a

pathway for devotees to follow. Their lives have been declarations and

proof of the Lord’s existence, and have been demonstrations of how

one may reach the Lord’s presence. Since there have been musician-

bhaktas before Tyāgarāja, he can make demands of Rāma:

You are the compassionate Lord who provides protection

to devotees who faithfully, without faltering,

give up their sleep, take up the tambūra,

and, strumming it charmingly, sing with a pure mind,

melodiously, O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja—

Or will the words of the wise become lies

today—the words which harp to be believers:

‘He exists! He is!’40

10

126

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Music as the Meeting Place

of the Human and the Divine

In some songs Rāma is spoken of as the ultimate rasika, the ‘divine connoisseur’ of most excellent taste who enjoys music.41 He is said to love music42 and to be ‘full of skill in the music which is nectarful, born of the Sāma Veda,’ and Tyāgarāja speaks of him as the ‘Light on the hill of the seven notes of sound43 born of the Mother called Om, the crest of the Vedas ... [and] born in the Yādava clan,’ as Kṛṣṇa who relishes flute playing Thus, the Lord and His devotee are both musicians; both appreciate the beauties of the music, which is a powerful, invisible spiritual medium for both to share. (The root of bhakti, bhaj, ‘to share, divide, apportion’ is associated with intimate sharing and participation).

Music is the shared realm in which the Lord and the devotee meet and mingle. At its best, this kind of devotional music, for Tyāgarāja, both in doctrine and practice, offers to those who are attuned and receptive, an experience of transcendence. The power of music lies in its ability to provide an inroad to spiritual ecstasy: ‘The wisdom of music’s art and science is the bestower of the ecstasy of sharing in the Beloved’s divinity’.44

Tyāgarāja praises music as the source of many benefits. Musical knowledge when coupled with devotion, in Tyāgarāja’s view, provides a means to the ultimate goal of life, mokṣa, final release, liberation. In fact, this is Tyāgarāja’s definition of mokṣa, the ultimate goal of the Hindu tradition. ‘Knowing the musical sound born from the mūlādhāra45—that is ecstatic liberation! To distinguish the proper home of the seven notes amidst the great tumult46—listen, O mind, that is mokṣa! Devotion steeped in the nectar of melodious tones and modes, that is the final beatitude, O mind!’47 The term kolāhala is used here to mean the ‘great tumult,’ the confusion of saṃsāra or historical worldly life. It is related to similar words in Hindi and Bengali which mean fracas, riot, agitation. To discern the proper positions or, literally, the ‘homes’ of the seven musical tones amid the disconcerting uproar, is to find the music of salvation amid life’s fretful fever. The ‘homes’ of the seven tones are the mystical centres (cakras) of the body known to yoga and tantra. The higher harmony inherent in the microcosm which the person is, can be drowned out by the uproar of the physical world clamouring for attention. To overcome the mere

anarchy of noise and find the perfect and eternal order in chaos is the

creative bhakta musician’s mystical task (Like the Jewish mystics

whose mission is to redeem the sparks, to know the eternal within and

beyond the flux, the mystic musician of India seeks to reach ‘home,’

and wander no longer in exile).

Hence, singing praise is a genuine discipline, and it is natural that

Tyāgarāja should bow to music, which is also an embodiment of the

Lord, whether conceived of as Rāma or as Śiva. The divine source of

music, however named, is the goal of Tyāgarāja’s sādhana of devotion,

as he suggests in his song Nādatamanīśam, which has a Vedic chant-

like pattern in its melody:

To Him whose body is sound—Lord Śankara—

I bow again and again, mentally and physically

To the essence of the Sāma Veda, the greatest

Veda, which gives such exaltation . . . (To Him)

To Him who protects pure-hearted Tyāgarāja

Who conquered death and revels in musical wisdom

Of the seven sacred tones: sa ri ga ma pa dha ni

Which are born from his five heads

(To Him whose body is sound . . .)

In Tyāgarāja’s happiest songs the saint expresses a satisfaction and a

comfort at the thought that he has woven a garment of utterances, and

has fashioned ornaments of concordant notes, for his Lord to wear.

What joy could ever transcend the happiness of devotees in harmony,

praising together, living the life of bhakti?

Tyāgarāja considers the human being’s ability to sport in the ‘ocean

of ecstasy’ to be so important that, in his estimation, one who fails to

swim in this sea ‘which is called musical wisdom’ leads a useless life,

and wastes his human birth, becoming ‘a mere burden to the earth’.

On the contrary, his heroes fulfilled their roles through loving service

and musical praise, experiencing mystical realization in so doing

Tyāgarāja praises them and their path in his songs on the glories of

music.

Indeed, Tyāgarāja, in Intakanna ānandamēmi (‘What happiness’),

describes the highest bliss as a harmony of souls in devotion.

What happiness could ever surpass this bliss, O Rāma

128

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

When there is unanimity in the meeting of devotees...

In devotion they dance, they sing tunefully, praying

That the Lord appear before them (What happiness...)

It was this self-forgetfulness, which music and devotion sometimes

effect, that inspired Tyāgarāja's concept of satisfaction, it would seem

from his lyrics.

It is enough to merge one's mind in him ...

When one says 'I am he' forgetting the body

With its bundle of senses, singing the Lord's glories

(What happiness ...)

When I murmur over and over your name—O prince

Whose story is praised by Tyāgarāja—these worlds

Seem to shine! What happiness could ever surpass

this bliss, O Rāma?51

Tyāgarāja s words may voice doubts: 'When will you come? Where

are you? Have you forgotten me?' but his music puts them to rest with

a pattern of completion. Tyāgarāja's music projects the climactic

bhakti vision he experienced, which was precipitated by devoted

longing and repetition of the Name. His bhakti experiences are

characterized by a sense of mutuality and reciprocity. In Tyāgarāja's

visions and dreams, he looks to Rāma with joy and gratitude, and

Rāma relents and appears with amazing grace, listening to his pleas

and looking upon him with mercy and generosity. Music is Tyāgarāja's

favoured way to reach, and to express this ecstasy or ānanda.52 Taken

as a whole, his lyrics reveal a synthesis of complementary strands.

There is bhakti's cultivation of viraha feelings, longing love toward the

divine with hope of reciprocity. There is advaita philosophy, perfect

unity of 'soul' and 'God' as the ultimate goal, as well as the reality

along the way, if illusions are lost. There is tantra-like faith in the

sādhana or discipline of mantra and the drive toward the goal of vision,

the direct manifestation of the deity. 'Rāma' means for Tyāgarāja both

his beloved and the ultimate reality beyond form. Rāma is a name for

the absolute being—consciousness—bliss, Brahman, and so is pictured

in some songs as greater than deities with limited forms and roles

—Brahmā, Viṣṇu and Śiva. Tyāgarāja's stance on mantra and tantra,

bhakti and monism seems subject to change, but for him, experiencing

Rāma is the answer, not following humanly constructed systems.

Tyāgarāja's metaphysical notions about music are not the only

cosmicization of an art or profession in India. God is the author who

writes the drama of the universe, the divine warrior king who battles

evil, the cosmic smith who artifices creation, the priestly sacrificer and

chanter of the great offering which generates existence—there are

many arts and professions associated with cosmic symbol systems.'

Unique among them, this cosmic way of music was potentially more

accessible, open to all in modern South India who would sing or listen.

If we explore the form Tyāgarāja perfected to give this access, the

kriti, we will better understand his accomplishment.

Features of Kriti Form

If rāgas are like goddesses embodied in sound, as Tyāgarāja

suggests, then each of his kritis is the stunning form of a goddess

enshrined, placed on the altar of the listeners' attention, to dance and

articulate a mood (bhava) in the story of the devotee. Each kriti is

unique, yet they all share certain formal aspects. A closer look at the

forerunners, at the tripartite structure, at the rāga and tāla, and at the

verbal text, sañgatis and rasa, all of which are aspects of the kriti, will

help us to appreciate these 'goddesses' all the more.

As a general term kriti means a piece of work, 'a doing', a deed

done, a thing made, on oeuvre fashioned or composed. The Sanskrit

kriti and the English 'creation', along with Latin and German

counterparts, are cognate with the Indo-Aryan root meaning 'to

create'.54 Thus, kriti is a term like the English word 'poem', which is

derived from the Greek root poiein, meaning to make, to create. The

poet is traditionally known as the 'maker,' 'shaper,' or 'creator' in both

Greece and India in classical times. The Vedic poet is called a kāru, a

maker. The terms kriti and poem have both been used to mean an epic

composition. In Kālidāsa's Ragbuvamśa the poet Vālmīki is said to

have taught Rāma's two sons to sing his kriti.55 Kriti also can mean 'a

wonder'. We could translate kriti as 'hymn' or 'psalm' as is sometimes

done, but we must realize that these terms are not interchangeable,

though they may share the characteristic of being songs of praise.

When Annamācārya in his sixteenth century treatise,56 and Purandaradāsa in a song,57 used the term krti, they did not mean what the term has come to mean in South Indian music circles during this century, it meant a 'composition' more generally, including pada and kīrtana, two song forms popular well before Tyāgarāja's time.

There had been short songs with repeated refrains before the time of the krti. Ballads, folk songs and short songs like gītas and padas for centuries had offered singers and listeners the opportunity to dwell repetitively on a nucleus of singable experience, elaborating on it and establishing a mood. But these gītas such as Purandaradāsa's (d. 1564) were often rather simplistic and predictable, and padas such as Kṣetrayya's (seventeenth century) were more relaxed and meandering; kīrtanas such as Caitanya's (d. 1533), Bhadrācala Rāmadās' (seventeenth century) and Annamācārya's were not artistically sophisticated because of an extreme regularity. These more elementary forms were composed and preserved because simple people found it easy to remember them, unlike overly complex pieces demanding greater knowledge and discipline.

Similarly, the musically repetitive aṣṭapadis of Jayadeva's eleventh century song cycle Gītagovinda for the same reason are usually considered recitative rather than lyrical pieces,58 as are the tarangams, the songs of Nārāyaṇa Tīrtha in the Krishnalīlātaranginī, written around 1600. All of these pieces, along with older, more extensive prabhandas, forms secular and sacred—some of which were performed with dances and dramas—are held to be the forerunners of the krti.

The songs of both Gītagovinda and Krishnalīlātaranginī are in Sanskrit, though in both cases the rhythms and syllabic patterns are not Sanskritic, but Dravidian. Both of these compositions were very popular in Tyāgarāja's time.59 Other forerunners are found in the simple Telugu and Marathi songs of Sāhajī, king of Thanjavur (d. 1712), in the songs of Vīrabhadrayya and Mārgadarśi Seshāyyangār, in the songs of nāmasuddhānta-bhajana sampradāya composers Āyyāvāl and Sadāsiva Brahmendra, and in the Sanskrit pallavis sung as part of courtly art music performances

The full pattern of the three-part krti-pallavi (opening line and refrain), anupallavi (sub-refrain, elaborating on the opening) and a number of caranam(s) (stanzas), was used extensively by the Tallapakka composers beginning with Annamācārya in the sixteenth century.60

Some of the songs of Purandaradāsa also include an anupallavi but he seems to have preferred the pallavi and caranam structure of kīrtanas. Kṣetrayya also employed similar patterns to those found in kṛtis in his pada compositions. But while many of these forms begin as kṛtis do, they meander and are not so tightly 'knit into a severe build up'. The pada form in which Kṣetrayya, for example, composed is comparatively slower paced, at times almost bewilderingly elaborate in its form.

Tyāgarāja perfected the form in its most appealing expressions; Muttusvāmi Dīkṣitar and Śyāma Śāstri also achieved compelling kṛtis, each in his own way, but Tyāgarāja seems to have more fully explored the form's possibilities. Dīkṣitar, for example, extensively employed a two-part kṛti, a pallavi accompanied by a samaṣṭi caranam (a caranam sung at the same rhythmic pace as the pallavi initially and sung to a faster pace toward the end of the caranam, while maintaining the same periodicity of the tāla) without an anupallavi. Tyāgarāja achieved a clarity and balanced interdependence of parts in fine proportion in his three-part kṛtis. While earlier works meandered in a leisurely and searching manner, Tyāgarāja consistently found a more focused expression in more tightly knit songs with skilful climaxes. The kṛti form offers a scheme which allows the rāga to be appreciated through 'a gradual approach and in measured but increasing doses'.61 Tyāgarāja refined and perfected the tripartite form which had forerunners in previous centuries, creating a high art form which further popularized bhakti moods and ideas.

Even today, kṛtis are commonly called kīrtanalu and kīrtanaigal, the Telugu and Tamil plural forms, respectively, of kīrtana. Tyāgarāja's description of the kṛti, found in his song Sogasugā, could also serve to describe his kīrtanas. In kīrtanas the words are more important than the music, which is not very elaborate; also kīrtanas are simpler, more repetitive songs, meant to be sung by a leader and a group. It is true that Purandaradāsa is unique in having composed such a variety of types of compositions, from elementary padas for beginners to elaborate śūlādīs, but the majority of Purandaradāsa's as well as Bhadracāla Rāmadāsa's songs are good examples of kīrtanas. Other haridāsa composers such as Śrīpada Rāya, Vyāsarāya and Narahari Tīrtha also composed kīrtanas for group singing. These songs have little or no ornamentation and employ the more common rāgas. Thus, when Tyāgarāja asks Rāma in Sogasugā the following questions, he is not speaking of the kṛti in very technical terms.

132 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Pallavi Who is the stalwart able to melt You,

co-ordinating the ensemble

with such elegance of drum rhythm

Anupallavi With truthful words full of the gist of

the Upaniṣads

and with great purity of the notes

Pallavi And with such elegance of drum rhythm

co-ordinating this ensemble

who is the stalwart able to melt You ...

Caranam Is it possible for Tyāgarāja

to sing bhajans with kṛtis full

of the nine emotions, smacking

with sweetness of grape nectar,

Is he able to make the rhythmic pauses,

in songs of loving devotion,

with rhymes and in line with

the lyrical rules-

Pallavi Who is the stalwart able to melt You

co-ordinating the ensemble

with such elegance of drum rhythm ...62

This description of the components of a kṛti does not mention saṅgatis which have come to be thought of as the hallmark of works termed as kṛtis. The rhyme, alliteration, pauses, devotional fervour, grapejuice-like sweetness and the nine rasas mentioned could apply equally well to kīrtana components. Thus, Tyāgarāja was using the word kṛti as a general term meaning a musical work, a song, an opus.

Subbarama Dīkṣitar does not employ the term in his book Saṅgīta Sampradāya Praḍarśinī. Hence T.S. Parthasarathy has suggested that the word kīrtana, which is what Tyāgarāja calls his songs in at least two separate pieces,63 must have been a term used loosely during the nineteenth century, including popular kīrtanas of the kind known as divyanāma (songs for groups in praise of the name) and utsava sampradāya (simple songs used in festival and ritual worship), as well

as kritis—the tighter and more subtly artistic form which he

developed and perfected Kritis, as the term is used today, usually have

short texts, finely developed melodies and expressive sangatis or

variations, as we shall see

The Kriti Structure

In terms of the lyrics, a normal Tyāgarāja kriti has three major parts

the pallavi, the anupallavi, and one or three caranam(s) But in

performance, even before the kriti proper begins, there is the tam-

büra's drone establishing the background constant, representing the

eternal Nāda Brahman from which all emerges. Sometimes there is a

preliminary part of the performance called the rāga alāpana or melody

elaboration in which the singer demonstrates in syllables of his or her

choice an exploration of the range of the rāga to be sung. During this

part of the performance the tāla or rhythm is not used to mark time.

The performer sings, exploring various permutations of notes which

will bring forth the rāga in ascending and descending order, conveying

to listeners the rāga's mood and features.

Pallavi literally means 'sprout', a vegetation image associated in

Indian symbol systems with rasa (sap, juice, flavour, essential inspiring

vitality) and it carries a sense of a beginning. It suggests the idea of a

seed and shoot, or a bud, the beginning of efflorescence and the stem

resource for an expansion. Until Subbarama Diksitar's time (he

published Saṅgīta Sampradāya Pradarśinī in 1904), it was usually called

pallava. One traditional etymology breaks the word into three syllables

and derives each from a component of song: padam ('word'), layàm

('rhythm'), vinyāsam ('display').64 T.S. Parthasarathy has called this a

mere 'guess,'65 but perhaps this playful derivation could be under-

stood more as a helpful invention, a mnemonic or pedagogical device,

rather than literal linguistic etymology or erroneous speculation. It

sums up the parts of the nucleus in a nutshell. From the pallavi, the

embryonic original impulse, and so the essential spirit of the work, the

whole of the kriti develops.

Before the term pallavi came to be associated with the initial line of

Tyāgarāja's kritis it was the term for the dominant form of Karnataka

musical court performances in pre-Tyāgarāja times. Designated more

fully as rāgam-tānam-pallavi, or simply called pallavi, it was one

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expression of manodharma ('the duty of the mind', exercise of the imagination) sangīta, the improvisational art music of the times.⁶⁶ The

reason why this form, which often extended for many hours, was called pallavi probably had to do with the single line of text around

which it was musically elaborated. This form was used in lengthy competitive exhibitions of musical technique, including displays of

rhythmic and melodic virtuosity and improvisation on the theme. The text on which this display of rhythmic and melodic exhibition was

based could be either secular or religious, amorous or humorous, but usually it was resonant with multiple meanings and capable of evoking

poetic associations though even meaningless words were sometimes used as a basis for improvisations, or simply the syllables of the

Sanskrit word anantam, meaning 'infinite'.⁶⁷ (Even today the rāgam-tānam-pallavi format is extensively used in performances of Kar-

nataka music, and often the central theme of a concert may be built around the rendering of a rāgam-tānam-pallavi. Also, in concerts

today, the pallavi in rāgam-tānam-pallavi is repeated many times, each time in a different rāga forming a rāgamalika or garland of

melodies. With the exception of this format, singing a composition in any rāga other than the one it was composed in is considered improper

by Karnataka music purists.)

A common element normally found both in the court pallavi of old and the pallavi in a Tyāgarāja kriti is an appealing songworthy idea or

image, the interest of which cannot be exhausted in just one rendition. It is similar to what one musicologist has stipulated as a 'fairly certain

criteria for the singable lyric poem ... [that is] it must project one predominant feeling-image ... an image that arouses what you might

call a singable concern for the experience itself'.⁶⁸ As the opening line, the pallavi which is periodically repeated as the refrain, must be

inherently enjoyable and also capable of providing a satisfying closure when returned to after the performance of the other parts.

The pallavi of the typical Tyāgarāja song is especially important because it is the core pattern, the matrix of the rest of the song. As the

foundation for elaboration of the architecture of the kriti's melodic and rhythmic structure, the pallavi is the initial utterance which

establishes the mood of the song. It reflects the source-impulse of the creative process, the starting place and destination of the other

emerging parts. All else must be integral with the pallavi, whether in similarity or contrast, since it initiates the principle of the whole of the

song in a germinal form. The best of pallavis can be repeated with

many variations bringing out latent nuances, and new contexts can be

developed around a good pallavi to bring out further potential

meanings, and thus the pallavi again and again completes a further

thought each time it is sung.

It is generally thought that Purandaradāsa, Annamācārya, and

Bhadrācala Rāmadās were not quite as subtle as Tyāgarāja in this kind

of construction, when comparisons of lyrics are made. The sequences

of their caranam and pallavis sometimes seem almost haphazard or

disjointed in comparison with Tyāgarāja's more sophisticated seam-

lessly unified lyrics.

Tyāgarāja's kriti Sogasugā can serve as an example of the kriti's

elements. The pallavi of Sogasugā in the original Telugu is the reverse

word order of the expression in English:

elegant drum rhythm aranging an ensemble you

P sogasugā mṛidaṅga tālamu jatagūrci ninu

make melt stalwart who is

jokkajēyu dhīru devvadō

Arranged in English word order, these words mean:

P. Who is the stalwart able to melt

you, arranging an ensemble of elegant drum rhythm ...

If the nucleus of the song is the pallavi, then one theme is music's

power to unpattern formality and dissolve into formless bliss. 'To melt

you' means to dissolve into the beloved so that no distance or

boundary stands between. It also means to move the beloved to

shower grace and reveal himself, to take shape before Tyāgarāja. It is a

song about music, a sacred song about the sacredness of song.

The second part is the anupallavi or sub-refrain, which was made a

standard part of the kriti by Tyāgarāja though other composers such as

Kṣetrayya, Sāhajī, and Nārāyaṇa Tīrtha also seem to have sometimes

used it. It is basically an extension of the theme of the pallavi, both

melodically and lyrically, a further elaboration of the initial idea.

Literally anupallavi means 'following the pallavi' or an extension of the

'sprout' following the same direction.

Usually, we might say, a piece without an anupallavi but with several (often ten) caranamS is considered a kīrtana. Songs in praise of divine names, divyanāma kīrtanas, consist of vocatives or dithyrambs, holy names which call to mind the Lord's actions and features. Utsava sampradāya songs are festive pieces celebrating the deity in a series of worshipful acts: waking, making offerings of milk and so on, swinging, celebrating marriage, singing lullabies. These groups of songs are sung for hours on certain holy days, such as Vaikuṇṭha Ekadaśī, offering householders a chance to intensify their spiritual striving. Some of these bhakti celebrations last all night, in an akhaṇḍa bhajana or 'non-stop' singing. Kīrtanas of the divyanāma and utsava sampradāya variety are better suited to group singing than kṛtis, which are more demanding and are often best sung by an individual after long hours of practice. Tyāgarāja was not given to artistic snobbery, and composed great songs in both forms His pañcaratna kīrtanas—'five-gem' masterpieces—show that some of his songs are exquisitely and extensively complex yet adaptable to group singing.

With an anupallavi following the pallavi and from one to three caranamS, a piece is considered to be a kṛti. In Sogasugā, the anu-pallavi is:

Vedas meaning of full of

A. nigama śirōrthamu galgina

with true words with purity of notes

nijavākkulatō svarasuddhamutō

In English word order this means:

A. with truthful words full of the gist

of the Upaniṣads and with great purity of notes

The third part of the kṛti is the caranam. The word caranam means 'foot,' or 'the part that moves' about. Musicologist S. Y. Krishnaswamy believes that the term caranam may suggest the idea of 'settlement' of the theme.69 Usually there are from one to three caranamS in a kṛti. In the caranam(s) the theme is given concrete example or is elaborated into specific details or particular metaphors and completed. In the final caranam it is usual to find Tyāgarāja's

signature or mudrā (literally, ‘seal’) incorporated into the lyrics. The

single caranam of Sogasugā is:

rhyme repose true devotion

C. yati viśrama sadbhakti vi-

pause grape-nectar nine moods

rati drākṣārāsa navarasa

with song having to worship

yutakritice bhajiyijñcē

is able Tyāgarāja is it possible O Rāma

yukti Tyāgarājuni taramā Śrīrāma

Arranged in English word order this means:

C. Is it possible for Tyāgarāja

to sing bhajans with kritis full

of the nine emctions, smacking

with sweetness of grape nectar,

Is he able to make the rhythmic pauses

in songs of loving devotion,

with rhymes and in line with

the lyrical rules?

In many songs, the structure of a kriti's text is similar to patterns of

sequence found in Sanskrit texts: the pallavi is like a sūtra, an

aphorism giving the essential idea in nut-shell; the anupallavi is like the

vritti, the explanation in which the initial idea is furthered; the ca-

ranam is like the bhāṣya, the commentary which elucidates and gives

examples.70 Musically, if we allow the first letter of each of the three

parts to stand for them, the general sequential pattern of the kriti is

P–A–P–C–(A)–P. (Sometimes the second theme of the caranam is

similar to the anupallavi, but not always.)

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Rāga—Dimensions of the Kṛiti

Since the melody of the entire song is limited by the dictates of the specific rāga in which it is cast, with certain notes which may be used (and others which may not) in ascent and descent, the rāga provides a definite set of limits, and hence a unifying dimension. The rāga in which Sogasugā is cast is Śrīrañjanī, which is limited to the following notes.71

Ascent. CDE♭ FAB♭ c (B♭/in ascent may be omitted)

Descent: cB♭ AFE♭ DC

In this rāga the note G or pa is never used. Normally, songs in Śrīrañjanī begin with c (sa), D (ri), F (ma), or B♭ (ni).

Tyāgarāja is associated with this rāga, Śrīrañjanī, more than other composers. 'If today you hear a piece in Srīrañjanī, you may be sure it is one of Tyāgarāja's or one which is an imitation of it.'72 It is one of many rāgas in which he worked, and one of the considerable number he originally revealed for others to know and sing. There is no time of day or night associated with this rāga, because Tyāgarāja did not follow the North Indian practice of assigning strict mood-times to his songs.

A comparison of Tyāgarāja's compositions reveals that he consistently followed a melodic pattern in many of his kritis. In the first impulse of the song, the pallavi, a provocative statement is uttered as the rāga is introduced by a sequence of the lower notes in the octave. Then, in the anupallavi, major points are revealed as the range and atmosphere of the rāga are more fully presented, and the upper notes of the octave are used; there is an excitement expressed in reaching the higher tetrachord—the notes above the upper sa. Then, in the caranam, we find a new departure, 'a calm rendering of the middle notes,' with pa or ma as the centre; and then, later in the caranam, a repetition of the anupallavi notes brings a second ascent toward the upper notes. In the caranam, having already attracted the listener's attention, the composer may proceed through a calm elaboration with less intensity but more intimacy, less flash and more mature simplicity.

This pattern of lower notes, further development and higher notes, then gravitating toward the calm middle notes, and re-ascent to the higher notes and finally return to the pallavi origin is found in many of Tyāgarāja's songs.73 The pattern seems to reflect feelings sung in the

lyrics: an assertion or question, a build-up of wondering about the

question, in suspense, tension and ascent, a wandering return and re-

ascent up to a high point of release and resolution of the bhakti

dilemma being voiced, a conclusion of the distraught emotions in

sound cycles coming to rest in peace.

For, in ways not fully translatable into words, the rāga embodies

feelings. Dancing through cycles of tonal changes, the rāga exercises a

mysterious power. All melodies combine abstraction and subjectivity.

We might say they depict numbered feelings Feelings given finite

shape by the composer become enjoyable. Given a form, limit,

measure, a certain end, their energies become glidable contours

capable of shifting and surprising with delight. This numberedness or

measure of expressed feelings is the art of music and ritual enhancing

one’s freedom to imaginatively play in a special time and vitalize the

nervous system with the melody of reverie. I would agree with the

statement that ‘in the melody … the emotion of history, its lasting light

without dates or facts, takes refuge. The love and breeze of our

country are inherent in the tunes … bringing vivid life out of dead

epochs, the opposite of the stones, the bells, the people with character

or even the language, the melody, to a greater extent than the text,

defines the geographical characters and the historic lineage of a

region, and marks out, in an acute way, defined moments of a profile

which time has rubbed out’.74 Tyāgarāja has saved something of the

soul of Choladesa, the south land, in his rāgas.

Tāla — The Cycles of Rhythm

Turning to the tāla, the rhythm in cycles of beats, we could think of

it as the heart’s blood circulating in the embodied goddesses which are

rāgas, for the rhythm gives continuous life. And, considering the

playful elaborations and improvisations possible within the cycles, the

rhythm is also like the lively and delightful jingling of the anklets on

the feet of these dancers. Considering our example, we find that

Sogasugā praises the mastery of rhythm, and demonstrates the power

of rhythm in song. In a rhythmic piece ‘the pattern itself is a vast cyclic

agitation spreading all over the body, a tide of excitement pouring

through the channels of the mind’.75 The sung lyric appeals to and

resonates with the whole person The Vedas, which are chanted, and

many of the scriptures which constitute the fountanheads of later

traditions, are in verse, utilizing a rhythmic and emotive use of

language. Such works seem intended to agitate and make impressions

upon the entire person—body, mind, and emotions—to lay claim to

deeper allegiances, to imprint vividly a code of mythos, an entire

ethos, on the psyche. Music can affect breathing and heartbeats,

thoughts and feelings of listeners and singers.

In the hands of a master musician the rhythm has a driving force

and is a major source of power and unity. It is constituted of very

definite percussive patterns, repeated cycles of time measures, usually

sounded on the mridangam, a drum used to keep time in most

Karnataka music performances. The tāla is a framework within which

all the performers of an ensemble must operate, which serves to

integrate them. While the drummer may mark it out, this is usually

done by filling in the tāla units with shorter rhythmic durations. In a

kriti the tāla or rhythmic cycle is the ground in which the musical

phrasing as well as the words are set, or the time unit with which the

sung melody interplays. The tāla is counted out over and over during

the course of the song. The singer often counts with established

gestures of the right hand while performing Karnatak music. The

number of syllables per tāla cycle may vary, but they are set within and

co-ordinated by the tāla. Sometimes, as in the dhyānāma and utsava

sampradāya kīrtanas, there is a corresponding poetic metre used also, a

metric structure within which the syllables are organized, as opposed

to non-metric or loosely metric lines of verse which are found in kritis.

Tyāgarāja composed more melismatic lyrics—there is a greater free-

dom from the rigid one note to one syllable mode of earlier bhakti

composers. He also used variants in tālas. For example he composed

many kritis in Ādi tāla starting one and one-half beats off, and the

syncopation adds an unexpected charm to the tempo.

Kritis do, however, have yati (first syllable rhyme) and prāsa (second

syllable alliteration or chiming of similar sounds), and so, strictly

speaking, are not exactly prose. Yet the syllables are not all cast in

inflexibly regular metric units—some syllables may melismatically

stretch over a number of time beats when sung. These lines are freed

from metric rigidity, and are more complex and melodious than

overstrict and simple metric lyrics of most earlier South Indiar

devotional music. Hence Tyāgarāja found them more suitable to his

purpose in the composing of kritis, which are art songs (as opposed

to kīrtanas which are meant for group singing and depend on metre).

What Yeats said of the function of metre might be said of tāla: its

purpose is 'to lull the mind into a waking trance'.76 The basic tāla is the

undercurrent of rhythm within a song, it may not vary, and yet it is not

metronomic or mechanical but may be expressed by the drummer in

various ways, provided the basic count is kept while superimposing

various rhythmic patterns upon it.

Ādi tāla is thought to be the oldest of the tālas, and it is most

favoured by Tyāgarāja. It consists of eight beats: four plus two plus

two. Rūpaka, the tāla used in Sogasugā, is the second most used in

Tyāgarāja songs. It consists of three units per rhythmic cycle and is

counted with the hand by a motion of: beat, beat, wave of the hand;

beat, beat, wave of the hand, and so on. Ādi tāla (and its regional folk

variant Deśādi tāla) is so intimately pervasive in Karnataka music that

we may think of it as the typical rhythm of the reveries of South

Indians. Tyāgarāja employed in a masterly fashion various tālas in

different tempos, slow and reposeful, medium, and lively.

The tāla cycles are repeated within the parts of the song as those

parts depart from and return to the pallavi. Thus, the tāla cycle is a

constant, repeated again and again throughout the pallavi, throughout

the anupallavi, and throughout the caraṇam. Tyāgarāja favoured a

quick measure in his songs, probably an expression of his emotional

tempo and the sense of rhythmic vitality he wished to impart to

others.

One scholar has pointed out that the greatness of Tyāgarāja's music

besides discovering and exploring new rāgas, is in no small measure

dependent on his genius for rhythm and the bold inventions he made

in that field.77 As we have seen in the religious sphere, smārta

brahmins have long been noted for their innovations within the

traditional framework. Karnataka music, in which sampradāya (tradi-

tion, rigorous discipline learned from one's teacher) as well as mano-

dharma (imaginative improvisation, the 'duty to the intelligence',

invention) are both essential, proved to be a field well-suited to smārta

achievement.78

Chinnaswami Mudaliar, taking a tack different from some other

musicologists,74 understood Sogasugā primarily as a song of

homage to the mṛdaṅga... the inseparable concomitant of

all vocal music in India [which] constitutes a most pleasing

and scientific accompaniment, serving better than any

other instrument or conductor to guide and encourage the

singer in observing his intricate time-measurements.80

Sāhitya—The Accompanying Lyrics

The question as to who can blend the beautiful or elegant drum

rhythms with the rest of the ensemble and melt Tyāgarāja’s iṣṭadevatā

or favourite form of the divine, touches also on the topic of lyrics and

their rules A song is often described as having two main components:

sangīta (‘music’), and sāhitya (‘lyrics’). According to oral tradition,

sāhitya stems from the Sanskrit word sahita meaning ‘togetherness,’ or

‘harmonious communion,’ and thus suggests the interfusion of word

sound and meaning. The Sanskrit critic Kuntaka of the tenth century

spoke of the complementary roles of śabda and artha, the sound of the

word and its meaning.81 Tyāgarāja is often called a vāggeyakāra—a

lyrical master of both words (vāg) and music (geya). Tyāgarāja uses a

poetic colloquial Telugu in his lyrics, idiomatic, yet with some

elements not commonly found in the spoken tongue of today. About

fifty-one of his songs are in Sanskrit.82 Even in his Telugu songs,

Tyāgarāja employs some words of Sanskrit origin, words with a wealth

of abstract pan-Indian associations and philosophical ideas, and he

favours the more singable Sanskrit vocatives, mixing them in some

songs with lyrics otherwise in Telugu.

Annamācārya, in a treatise of which only a summary is now

available, basing his views on Sanskrit treatises,83 briefly mentioned

the three types of language in which a pada may be composed:

Sanskrit, Prākṛit, and Deśī Bhāṣā.84 Tyāgarāja’s songs, like those of

many bhakti saints, would fall chiefly in the third category. Telugu is a

regional language noted for its mellisonance. Its vowel word-endings

allow the smooth expression of ideas without harsh consonants and

abrupt endings which would grate on the ears. To achieve this flowing

quality consistently is practically an impossibility in Sanskrit. In part,

Sanskrit is responsible for the ponderous and formal impression

Mutusvāmi Dīkṣitar’s songs create, constructing an abstract distance,

unlike Telugu’s intimate personal flavour. Tyāgarāja’s distinctive

sound is in part due to his use of Telugu: ‘Words and music have a

special relationship, particularly in music which is vocal in character.

Words affect the melody line, even the rhythmic structures. The inflections of language leave their imprint on melody and rhythm, on style and phrasing'.85 Telugu, as we have seen, has been called the Orient's Italian; both are tongues suitable for coloratura flights and each has a highly developed vocabulary of technical musical terms.

As Telugu is a Sanskritized language, many of the words in the song Sogasugā were originally derived from Sanskrit, but they are ‘Teluguized,' either by being given new endings, or by a more basic transformation; for instance, sogasugā, stemming originally from the Sanskrit word sukham, meaning good, or agreeable. (From Telugu it was taken into common Tamil usage as sogasu.)86 Sogasugā is an inherently interesting sounding word, as is the echo of it in the second line of the pallavi, jokkajēyu. Some of Tyāgarāja's best lyrics use words like this which by their sounds make the mind pleasantly dizzy while simultaneously the melody satisfies with its clarity and resolutions, stimulating an interplay of the brain's two hemispheres.

It is noteworthy that this is an unusual song for a number of reasons. It consists of lists of elements, Sanskrit-based nouns. But the verbs are Telugu, with Dravidian roots gūrci, cēyu, galgina, galugu. While it is a question containing a vocative of Tyāgarāja's iṣṭadevatā ('O Śrī Rāma'), it is in a sense a self-portrait, or else a question as to Śiva's capacity as a musician. Hence it is more a song about musical praise, which at its best is able to 'melt' God, as well as a song of praise.

Tyāgarāja's songs display an ingenious use of language. the Telugu is compactly lyrical, deceptively simple, suggestively minimal, often with a flavour of urgency, yet not without a classical dignity and propriety. The sound of the words coincides with and is integral to the melody. This oneness of sound and meaning is characteristic of Tyāgarāja's unique voice. His heartbeats were in Telugu, we might say, and he voiced them faithfully and true to the laws of the ear. His Telugu contributes to the pleasurable sound of the whole melodious utterance-the association of words, their sounds, and their immediate appeal are enjoyable. Sometimes the situation enacted in the lyrics is presented quite directly, in a 'rhetoric of spontaneity'87—Tyāgarāja seems to use a technique to convey an irrepressible outburst expressed within artistic limits. In many of Tyāgarāja's pallavis, for example, we find the imperative rā, ('come here') a word used casually in spoken Telugu.88 The simulation of everyday speech in a classical music song text builds spontaneity into the lyrics, and spontaneity

11A

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possesses an excitement and sincerity which makes it an immediate attention and sympathy attracter.

Some critics and grammarians, however, are unfamiliar with bhakti poets' reasons for using the mother tongue-to give common people more access to religious devotion, expressing feelings more naturally.

(This bhakti 'democratization' of spirituality which broadened possibilities for participation is similar to Protestant developments in Christianity which resulted in translations of the Bible into spoken languages, colloquial hymns and 'the priesthood of all believers' )

Some have criticized Tyāgarāja for not being more of a classical poet. For example, Ananthakrishna Sarma writes that Tyāgarāja 'did not cultivate the art of poetry with such avowedness as he displayed in respect of Rama Bhakti and music. Hence purists find fault with his phraseology'.89 Sarma probably had C. Tirumalaya Naidu in mind, for in his 1910 publication on Tyāgarāja, Naidu wrote that 'it must be admitted that Tyagayyar is not always very happy in the choice of his language. His diction is neither varied nor copious. His phraseology is commonplace and prosaic'.90 Yet there is a subtle art in composing lyrics which are colloquial and non-metrical, an art lost on people who demand obvious poetic display and formal pomposity in verse.

It was Tyāgarāja's great art to seem artless. It is difficult to sound easy, and the best artists are often painstaking in their effort to create effortless-seeming masterpieces. They 'plan' spontaneity and take every opportunity to build fortuitous inspired works, often as offerings to man and God. Whether easy-sounding lyrics came with or without labour to Tyāgarāja, they are a rare achievement. Recent Telugu anthologies of poetry seem to appreciate this fact, and include a selection of Tyāgarāja's easily eloquent lyrics alongside works of other major poets.91 Perhaps, as some believe, Tyāgarāja foresaw the trend of secularization which was already beginning in his times, and put the gems of his religious experience into a fascinating setting which would be passed on as an heirloom, as it were, whether later generations might fully know the origins and depth of religious significance or not.

The fate of the Vedas too, has been to be repeated without being fully understood.92 A typical song of longing for Rāma requires only the recognition of a few key words to start the flow of rasa in South Indian minds and hearts, even if little Telugu is known If one knows the words' meaning, the composer may still deliberately play with sound to befuddle the left side of the brain and simul-

taneously clarify with music the right side of the brain. The dizzying

balancing act of obscurity and clarity is part of music's joy and

reinvigorating power; through it, the mind's electric energies may be

reversed and renewed.

The sāhitya is the cloth wrapped around the dancing goddesses, we

might say, the beguiling coloured veils which flow with the forms and

both conceal and reveal their charms.

Other Dimensions of Sāhitya

Yati is the term for initial syllable rhymes, or at least similarities in

sound which are found in the pallavi (i.e., soga and jokka), and in the

anupallavi (i.e., niga and nija). They are examples of a Dravidian

poetic practice dating from the Tevāram compositions (eighth cen-

tury) of placing words with similar sounds at the beginning of lines,

rather than at the end, as found in some other literatures.93 In Telugu

poetry, the traditional verse forms require the composer to write the

whole piece modulated by yati and prāsa. Prāsa in music and in

Sanskrit means alliteration. In Telugu poetic metre, it is the alliteration

pattern which chimes with similar sounds in the second syllable of

each line (soga and jokka). The metric forms with marked cycles

measuring time in sounds resemble classical tāla patterns. In the

Sogasugā text, yati and prāsa provide cohesiveness and a pattern of

cycles within the parts, for the pallavi and anupallavi are interde-

pendent in that they both have yati; the lines of the caranam also

complete each other at their beginnings with yati. The use of yati and

prāsa is a Dravidian practice: poetry in the Dravidian languages—

Telugu, Tamil, Malayalam and Kannada—commonly uses these fea-

tures. The Tevāram (sacred hymns) of Śaivism and the Divyapra-

bhandas of Vaiṣṇavism employ yati and prāsa. Necessities of prāsa and

yati limit word choice, just as end rhymes do, and in the works of some

composers these rules seem to contribute to awkward distortions.

Tyāgarāja, as a mature poet, usually shows the mastery of the language

necessary to work within this pattern without resorting to forced

rhymes. These patterns form subtle interlinkings within the lines of the

song, because they mark out beginnings of tāla cycles and are

unobtrusively built into the lyrics. Thus, they help the singer learn and

perform the songs, by providing metric patterns which guide the

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memory. These features are considered compulsory in South Indian

padas, kīrtanas, and kṛtis.94 They function as an enduring Dravidian

language solution to problems of formal literary structure, and

retention in the memory—‘learning by heart’

Sangatis—New Variations

Repetition, dwelling on an image or thought, returning to it again

and again, has a hypnotic effect, and repetitive incantation is an

ancient entrée to reverie and trance states. Not surprisingly, Tyāgarāja

developed the repetition of song refrains with different nuances to the

utmost in many of his masterpieces. The pallavi, when first sung, is the

beginning of a search for full expression of an impulse. Variations

bring this search through a series of discoveries and new combinations

to arrive at a completion. These variations on the refrain, called

saṅgatis, (not to be confused with saṅgīta, meaning ‘music’) involve

both lyrics and melody. The kṛti starts with a simple saṅgati and each

successive step is a build-up on the previous one, sprouting and

budding in new directions, opening up new vistas in the rāga, and

reaching a climax. Joyful laughter is sometimes heard at a Tyāgarāja

concert, usually in response to a surprising saṅgati. Through the

repetition of a line of musical notes and words, expectations are

aroused; when an unexpected combination of notes startles the

listener, it brings a burst of laughter. Conversely, an unpredictable

nuance brought out in a variation may sometimes move the listener to

a mood of compassion and introspection.

It is significant that the description in Sogasugā does not list saṅgatis

as an essential part of devotional song. Purandaradāsa, who also wrote

a song about the ingredients of an ideal devotional song does not

include them either. (Since Tyāgarāja specialized in saṅgatis and

developed them to the fullest, he might be expected to point them out,

yet he does not. Perhaps he did not want to call attention to his own

unique genius; perhaps he considered saṅgati-less kīrtanas which non-

musicians could sing to be songs as worthy as more artistic ones

singable by a few.) Purandaradāsa listed as essential: rhythm, suitable

accompaniment, a peaceful time, people who want to listen, first

syllable rhyme, alliteration, a steady pace, deep love of Viṣṇu, a clear

voice, knowledge of the song’s meaning, the absence of discordant

grief, a happy face, people who understand, a crescendo of ecstasy,

and the regarding of Viṭṭhala (a name of Viṣṇu, and Purandaradāsa's

mūdra or signature) as supreme.95

In the pallavi performances of pre-Tyāgarāja times, sañgatis were

improvised by singers spontaneously, somewhat as ālāpanas are sung

today.

In the works of Tyāgarāja, sañgatis were developed and fixed by the

composer, and the capacity to elaborate potential variations on the

refrain within the rāga's gamut was maximized—the pallavi was

repeated in different ways with slight changes of notes and em-

phasis to bring out different nuances of meaning and feeling. Sañ-

gatis also represent the logical unfolding of the musical theme

through methodical fulfillment of the rāga's potential. In spoken

Telugu sañgati means 'message, or news,' and indeed it is a kind of

headline for the mood-story which follows. It also means 'novelty,

variation, meeting, coming together' as well as 'arrival' and hence,

'climax'.

Usually the first sañgati is a simple melodic line, and the next is

more fully elaborated, and the next is yet more elaborate. All of these

increasingly complicated sañgatis are sung within the same time limit.

'All the sañgatis glide into one another so easily and gracefully that

they seem to be natural evolution and involutions of one another,'96 in

Tyāgarāja's songs. As they give way to each other gracefully through

subtle permutation, sañgatis develop gradually and, at their climax,

the utmost possible rhythmic excitement and melodic elaboration is

attained within the given limits. Many have called the development of

the sañgati's potential Tyāgarāja's main contribution to Karnataka

music and 'the central feature of Tyāgarāja's compositions'.97 They

manifest a joyful inventiveness. 'The gaiety of form comes from the

labour of its playfulness,' as a poet of our time once remarked.98

While it is clear that Tyāgarāja was not the first composer to use

sañgatis in his compositions, he was the first, it would seem, to fully

realize the potentials inherent in the sañgati, to perfect the deve-

lopment and logical unfolding of all the possible sañgatis in a given

musical piece and to build them to a climax and resolution within the

compact kr̥ti form. Sañgatis seem to appeal to modern sensibilities.

'Each act is virgin, even the repeated one,' as John Cage quotes René

Char as saying, pointing to the modern artist's awareness that novelty

sprouts naturally from repetition.

Tyāgarāja repeated the same mantra for twenty years, through many changes. Dance dramas which illustrated the words of songs offered visual equivalents of sañgatis. Seeing a series of gestures which in three, ten, or twenty different ways illustrate the same evocative words might have sparked some experimentation in deriving multi-nuance meanings from methodically repeated phrases. Before the loss of Hindu political autonomy in Thanjavur in Tyāgarāja's times, court music had a leisurely luxurious quality. Pundits engaged in technical exhibitions for hours. When the court lost power, they faced the possibility of becoming an endangered species. As times changed, perhaps the need to find less leisurely, more compact, memorable expressions of devotional art music moved Tyāgarāja to explore possible variations in structures. A music of the leisure class with the luxury of indulgent self-display and florid virtuosity had to be distilled into a viable form, keeping the best qualities alive. The compact kriti with set sañgatis in a thematic climax was the form which evolved.

In my translations I have sometimes simulated sañgati variations by varying the refrain when it is repeated, to bring out some of the nuances and ambiguities inherent in the original. The sung kritis, which include all repetition of sañgatis, are lengthier than the bare bones kritis I present in my English translations. Listen to a performance of a kriti such as Baṇṭu rīti with its many repetitions; the full force of the kriti, like Gertrude Stein's writing, relies on reiteration and subtle variation to release new nuances. Compare the performed text in Telugu with the English text, and you will see how I have had to reduce an expanded and more elaborate form to a simple sūtra, so to speak, keeping the bare thread of the ideas.

The compact yet intricate design of Tyāgarāja's kritis bespeaks fine poetic technique—a conscious craft, an ear for the perfect touch, the subtle balance of correspondences, the faultless matching of rāga idea and word. Tyāgarāja followed the musicologist Govindācāri's 72 rāga melakārta system of classification and this is the one used in Karnataka music today. This system and other theoretical structures outlining possible rāga varieties provided a potentially creative influence for the discovery of new rāgas. Tyāgarāja was a well-trained musician with access to a wealth of erudition in practice and theory as well as being an ecstatic mystic in touch with inspiration's source, a saintly man for whom Rāma literally meant all.

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149

In a small framework with strict limits, Tyāgarāja made every note

and syllable count to evoke a lyrical theme, intensifying each part. In

the economy of the piece, the structure builds efficiently with no

wasted activity, in order to reach the highest degree of effectiveness.

Thus in a few lines the saint suggests the whole Rāmāyana, or a

dramatic moment of bhakti which is characteristic of a long lifetime.

The typical Tyāgarāja kriti seems sharp-pointed and concise, with the

expression of feelings patterned like facets of a gem, especially when

compared with the more intellectual, rambling, discursive and ex-

ploratory style of Dīkṣitar. Tyāgarāja's sparing use of words give his

compositions room for more sangatis, whereas the scholarly Dīkṣitar's

compositions are full of words, not allowing much room for sangatis.

Each Tyāgarāja kriti celebrates the occasion of a bhakti mood

(bhava). The variety of moods Tyāgarāja was able to elicit even within

the same rāga was extraordinary. By limiting the length a more

profound examination of possibilities in rare rāgas becomes possible

for every note and syllable counts, and the artist is challenged to the

utmost. Instead of a night-long elaboration of a myriad possibilities,

the precise and best method of exploiting the potential in one line

becomes the challenge. This was an advance in specialization, a solving

of a certain kind of problem musically, a miniaturization; the pre-

paration of an ark of musical ideas designed to perpetuate them in a

new era. Whitehead has stressed the non-static existence of traditional

ideas: 'They are either fading into meaningless formulae, or gaining

power by the new lights thrown by a more delicate apprehension'.

Tyāgarāja was a force for the latter dynamic intensification, choosing

to 'preserve the life in a flux of form,' rather than 'preserve the form in

an ebb of life.'99 Tyāgarāja developed the potential in sangatis, which

are the entrancing powers, the genius-will of the dancing kriti

goddesses, holding our attention.by unfolding ever new revelations of

feeling, surprisingly subtle, mathematically inevitable, and mysteri-

ously deep.

Rasa—An aesthetic experience

In Hindu aesthetic treatises, art's function is said to be the

stimulation of the experience of rasa, 'essential juice,' or 'emotional

state, or taste of a mood'—an aesthetic mood inspired in the enjoyer

of art, the connoisseur who knows art's subtleties. It is the lyrical quality of all the components together in a kriti which give it the drākṣarasa, 'the juice of the grapes,' mentioned in Sogasugā. The taste of grapes on the tongue is an immediately enjoyable experience: the fast-acting flavours of Tyāgarāja's music are likewise intended to be directly enjoyed, rather than requiring a laborious process of decoding and puzzle-solving. Tyāgarāja's songs directly stimulate the primary emotions in a flow of rasa. As V. Raghavan wrote: 'An emotion is recognized as Rasa if it is a sufficiently permanent major instinct of man, if it is capable of being delineated and developed to its climax with its attendant and accessory feelings and if there are men of that temperament to feel imaginative emotional sympathy at the presentation of that Rasa'.100

It is said that the scholarly Muttusvāmi Dīkṣitar and the more reserved Syama Sastri achieved beauty through the cumulative build-up of repeated effects, as in discursive arguments; their works were articulated with style and careful diction and depend upon successive elaborations for their effect. In the traditional comparison, such works are said to be like coconuts which must be dehusked and cracked open and chewed rather laboriously before they release their rasa to be enjoyed and assimilated. The master lyricist Tyāgarāja composed music which has flavour and impact, like grapes smashed on the roof of the mouth, their juice or rasa swallowed immediately, stimulating thirst for more. We find ourselves quickly drawn into sympathy with the mood, rather than gradually being won over. The overall bhava, 'feeling' or 'mood' is inseparable from the musical sequences, the rhythm and words which express it. Once the mood is established by the pallavi, it is consistently dilated upon, built to a point of suspense and finally fully expressed and then resolved. A kriti such as Sogasugā or Baṇṭu rīti enacts a mood and situation of excitement and hopefulness, yet is aware of the magnitude of the dilemma; it is questioning, yet suggestive of answers, it is musing, wondering, yet resolving. The rasa of karuṇa, compassion, is also stimulated in this as in many of Tyāgarāja's other songs: sympathy with the impossibility of ever doing justice to the praise of Rāma, yet also sympathy for the valiant effort of the genius who comes closest to succeeding.

M. S. Ramaswami Aiyar suggested that Tyāgarāja contributed a five-fold service to Karnāṭaka music through the composition of kritis.

first, he comprehensively surveyed the products of musical science of

previous eras, grasped previous composers' talents and resources, and

focused on the accomplishments of their art in his new songs. Second,

'as a necessary corollary, he introduced for the first time in the history

of Indian Music the system of developing sañgatis'. Third, he freed

devotional songs from an overly-strict metric form and verbal

dominance, introducing more fluid melismatic passages. Fourth, he

demonstrated that colloquial poetic prose has a 'freedom which suits

music better than too-formal poetry'. Fifth, he explored many rare

rāgas in his kṛtis, thereby discovering and giving them actual

viability.101

Each of his songs is a self-contained artistic whole celebrating a

moment of religious, conceptual or emotional crisis or climax, by

enacting the resolution of those situations, whether neatly in words, or

subliminally in the harmonious outburst voicing the situation in

pleasing melody and rhythm. Tyāgarāja's songs re-enact various

bhavas or moods, ranging from exaltation to despondency. They stir

and fulfil emotions with the release of tension, and with closure which

brings a sense of completion and leaves the listener with a feeling of

resolution and satisfaction. The pool of reverie in which Tyāgarāja

allows listeners to bathe is subtly dynamic, offering refreshing repose.

'Very often the whole state of mind in which we are left by a poem, or

by music ... is of a kind which it is natural to describe as belief'.102 In

this capacity, devotional music can be a refresher which stirs faith.

Tyāgarāja's songs evoke ideal moods of bhakti which demonstrate

moments of his situation within the multifaceted bhakta-bhagavān

(devotee-Lord) relationship, from insistent longing through grateful

satisfaction.

The poet who becomes the conscience of his or her people is the

source of definitive responses, trail-blazing successful resolutions.

Thus, through the kṛti form, Tyāgarāja served to fulfil deep needs in a

changing South India. Crises which he underwent and resolved

through faith can be shared and recapitulated by others, and because

of his great artistry and saintliness, his work has led to the refinement

of sensibilities. The artistic cris de coeur in the midst of tribulations

kept Tyāgarāja bound to his beloved iṣṭadevatā and even today keeps

South Indians who enjoy his songs bound on a religious path through

remembrance. His songs are felt to be conducive to freedom and

fullness of life, to a spiritual liberation and a fulfilment of bhakti

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TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

potentialities As one of the West's great theologians said, 'It is not the

tongue, but our very life, that sings the new song' 103 South Indians,

through Tyāgarāja, found the needed voice for new songs in their lives,

and Tyāgarāja's life succeeded in showing them how to sing of the

timeless in the face of change and beyond For rasa in its highest form,

according to Hindu aesthetics, is ānanda, bliss

Tyāgarāja had the enjoyment of experiencing the music that in-

habited his being Just as to know the four Vedas by heart in ancient

India would make for a different kind of mentality and status, a

different life than those we can easily imagine today, similarly, to know

dozens of rāgas, intricate systems of sound and feeling, to be immersed

in rhythms, vibrations and correlative religious ideas-this would

empattern a life experience into an extraordinary existence

Reliability of the Kriti Texts

We are reasonably certain of the texts upon which the following

translations are based, for a number of reasons While there may be

some disagreement over musical renderings of some of the songs, the

textual consistency is generally fairly good South Indian music is more

conservative than music in the north; that is, traditionally, there are

fewer liberties taken by performers, and there is the Karnataka music

practice of recording the musical sequences using the syllables sa ri ga

ma pa dha ni sa for notation Many manuscripts at the Saurashtra

Sabha are notated in this manner 104 There is also the practice of

Tyāgarāja choosing disciples on the likelihood of their faithful trans-

mission of his songs clever improvisers were dissuaded from be-

coming part of the discipular lineage Those who were accepted

worked together to record the composer's works, each being res-

ponsible for a separate part 105 Hence, while some songs of Mīrābāī

and Kabīr have been radically transformed by centuries of loose oral

transmission, Tyāgarāja's lyrics and much of his music retain a good

degree of stability, because of stricter guru-śiṣya lines and more

reliable written texts.

Tyāgarāja's disciple, Venkataramana Bhāgavatar, made palm-leaf

manuscripts of his master's songs His son, Krishnasvamy Bhāgavatar,

a disciple of Tyāgarāja during the saint's last years, and heir to

Venkataramana Bhāgavatar's manuscripts, also made efforts to preserve

THE MUSICIAN AS MYSTIC

153

Tyāgarāja's songs in writing. He also assisted A.M. Chinnasvami Mudaliyar in his Oriental Music in European Notation, which is generally considered a reliable guide.

Vīṇā Kuppiar, who was born in Tiruvottiyur, and is considered by many to have been the most distinguished of Tyāgarāja's disciples, made Telugu manuscripts of Tyāgarāja's kṛtis in ink on good paper, a number of which still survive. One is in the possession of T.S. Parthasarathy. It contains other composers' works as well.

Some of Tyāgarāja's songs were printed in the nineteenth century, and many more were published in the early twentieth century, in such books as Subbarama Dīkṣitar's Saṅgīta Sampradāya Pradarśinī. The Tillaisthanam disciples' tradition was recorded in published form in 1908, as we have seen. The Tamilian editor Narasimha Bhāgavatar printed the songs as he had learned them from his guru, Rāma Ayyangār from the village of Tillaisthanam, a direct disciple of Tyāgarāja. Though he did not have the assistance of historians or linguists, he was himself nevertheless a responsible, cautious scholar. When he did not understand the text he entered footnotes. He treated the texts as sacred and did not feel called upon to 'improve' or tamper with them. He made no grammatical changes, unlike some later editors. Fortunately, this reliable book came to be used as a source by later compilers, including Kalluri Veerabhadra Sastri.106 T.S. Parthasarathy, basing his work on the best information and text, has produced a Tamil script collection of over 675 of Tyāgarāja's songs, a work held in very high esteem in Tamil Nadu. R. Rangaramanuja Ayyangār's Kṛtimanimalai contains 690 Tyāgarāja songs in Tamil script with notation. Kalluri Veerabhadra Sastri's Telugu script collection, Tyāgarāja Keertanalu, contains over 650 songs.

Tyāgarāja's disciples taught his songs to others, and these songs were later collected in written form. For example, C. Ramanujachari collected songs from Umayalpuram disciples and singers in Madras, publishing them in Sanskrit script. His book, The Spiritual Heritage of Tyāgarāja contains about 550 songs. The differences textually are not great—they do not usually affect the basic meaning of the song—though the music sometimes slightly varies, as one would expect in a tradition which is partially oral. Later singers of the Tillaisthanam school, for example, S. Parthasarathy, do not rely on written texts, and preserve variant oral traditions.

Serious discussions such as those held at the Music Academy of

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TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Madras for several decades have clarified areas of controversy and confusion in Tyāgarāja songs. Strict adherence to correct tāla and devices such as yati and prāsa have helped to keep the texts of songs intact. And now, edited by T.S. Parthasarathy, the lyrics are inscribed in marble at Tyāgarāja's samādhi, and in these ways the genuine original lyrics are further preserved for future generations Hence, there is an aesthetic, as well as a religious justification in the remark made by K.R.R. Sastry 'In every song, the saint lives'.107 Also alive in future. Tyāgarāja, as an archetypal bhakta musical genius who sabotaged time, is a significant guru in the lives of many today. His music is a way to peace, the absorbing sphere of love celebrated by being sung. His kritis are wonders, goddesses of enchanting beauty, and they speak for themselves. Fortunately, listeners do not have to take the musicologists' word for it-they can-and must-listen for themselves.

NOTES

1. Rāmabbakti samrājyame, C. Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit, p 104 While Tyāgarāja found Rāma's bliss in the uproar, many other musicians and composers have said such things as, 'I frequently hear music in the heart of noise' (George Gershwin).

2 Śabda nıstam Jagad Rıg Veda (Note I have not been able to locate this.)

3 The Logos (divine utterance or creative word) is an ancient idea in world religions. See S Langdon, 'A Sumerian Liturgy Containing an Ode to the Word,' The Museum Journal (Philadelphia March 1918), vol IX No 1, pp 156–63 The origin of religions as the sound of God in revelation, and the continuity of religions as hearing and transmitting the word of God, together form a common base of the Torah and the Vedas

4 Lamentations, III. 63 In this passage the prophet calls himself the music, the burden of the song, of the oppressed people for whom he speaks. The Book of Job, XXXVIII 7

5. Qur'ān, sūras 23, 36, 37.

6. The Sāma Veda, ed and tr Devi Chand, Aranyakanda III. 4, p 93 Bhagavad Gītā verse. vedānām sāmavedo'smi. 'Of the Vedas, I am the Sāma Veda', X 22 'I am the sound in ether' is found at VII. 8.

7. Maıtrı Upanıṣad 6 22.

8. Ṣatapatha Brāhmaṇa, VI.I.1. 15.

9. Viṣṇu Purāṇa. cited in S.Y. Krishnaswamy, op cit

10 Śarngadeva, Sangīta Ratnākara, I iii 1.

11 Raso vai saḥ is a well-known Sanskrit statement from the Taittirīya Upaniṣad interpreted by some to imply the unity of aesthetics and religion

12. Svarārnava cited by P.Sambamoorthy, op. cit., p. 247

13 The Śaiva saint Sundarar sang a Tevāram hymn in which he stated 'God is the embodiment of musical notes and the fruit of music,' according to T.S.Partha-sarathy, Madras musicologist.

14 Appar, the seventh century convert from Jainism to Śaivism asserts in a Tevāram song, 'Spiritual freedom is for those who glorify the Lord as the Being who vibrates throughout the universe and in every soul'.

15 Mānikkavācakar, Tiruvācakam, III 35 There is a tradition that Śiva first evoked music which was inherent in the vīnā.

16 Śaṅkara 'Those who sing here sing God,' cited by A.K.Coomaraswamy, The Dance of Śiva (New York: The Noonday Press, 1962, revised ed.), p.95 and Mahābhārata by Vīlmuttūrār, 10.6

17 Nāda sudhārasambilanu, C.Ramanujachari and V.Raghavan, op.cit., p.229 For Telugu script see Kalluri Veerabhadra Sastri's volume Tyāgarāja Keertanalu, p.458 Other songs praising the Lord as the embodiment of sound include Nī bhakti bhāgya, p.146, Nīdaya galgutē, p.12, and Nammi vaccana, p.81. The Lord is glorified as the embodiment of the divine bliss of the taste of sound in Nī dayacē Rama, p.230, and in Talaciṉantanē, p.491.

18 The three kinds of rāgas mentioned here are dura ('heavy', sometimes called ghāna), naya ('lighter', more delicate melodies), and deśya ('regional').

19 Rāga sudhārasa, C.Ramanujachari and V.Raghavan, op.cit., p.92–93, K.V.Sastri, op.cit., vol.II, p.117. Svararāga sudhārasa, C.Ramanujachari and V.Raghavan, op.cit., pp.92, 512; K.V.Sastri, op.cit., vol.II, p.217

20 Yājiñavalkya Smṛtti. T.S.Parthasarathy translates this verse in 'Glory of Tyāgarāja,' Saṃskṛtti (Madras: 1979–80).

He who knows the mysteries of playing the vīnā he who has mastered the knowledge of śruti and jati and he who is an adept in tāla goes the way of mokṣa without effort.

21 Literally, it is said that devotion combined with the nectar of notes and modes is the final beatitude of heaven (svargāpavargamurā) of heaven, or detachment from matter.

22 In a number of myths, Śiva teaches his consort music. Both of them are dancers, and sometimes they compete in their dancing

23 Michael Pym, The Power of India (New York: G.P.Putnam's Sons, 1930). See also Donna Wulff, 'Practising Religiously' in Sacred Sound, edited by Joyce Irwin (Chico: Scholar's Press, 1984), p.159. This is an excellent introduction to the importance of music in India. Related to this theme of primal sound, the sacred vibration of

156 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

mantras, and seers' intuitions of correspondences, see Jan Gonda, The Vision of the

Vedic Poets (The Hague Mouton, 1963)

24 Saṅgīta śāstrañānamu, C Ramanujacharı and V Raghavan, op cit , pp 91, 512

25 Mokṣamu galada, Ibid , p 509, K V Sastri, op. cit , vol II, p 101

26 Śārṅgadeva, Saṅgīta Ratnākara. I.iii 6

27. Basavanna, in A K Ramanujan, Speaking of Śiva (Baltimore Penguin Books, 1973)

Importance of aesthetic theory is stressed in works both eastern and western.

Homeric Hymn IV speaks of the necessity of art and wisdom in the making of

music, Guido d'Arezzo, the tenth century Italian originator of the European sol-fa

system, wrote that 'not just art, but wise doctrine makes for real singers' Cited by

A K Coomaraswamy, Christian and Oriental Philosophy of Art (New York· Dover,

1956. p 55

28 Dāsaraṭhi nī namamu, C Ramanujacharı and V Raghavan, op cit , p 437

29 Śrīpapriya saṅgītopāsana, Ibid , pp. 513–4; K V Sastri, op cit , vol II, p 201 The

term saṅgītopāsana means 'meditation, devotion, or practice of attending upon

music'

30. Śobhillu saptasvara, C Ramanujacharı and V Raghavan, op cit , pp 514–5; K V.

Sastri, op cit., vol. II, p 203 This song is based on ślokas from the Saṅgīta

Ratnākara I.ii 4, which discuss the relationship between sound and the centres of

the body Specifically, in III 4, many of the same words are employed

31 Ibid , see also Saṅgīta Ratnākara II. 120–47 In Tyāgarāja's song the 'beautiful

shapes' of the notes could be translated as 'beauties' or 'goddesses' This song

shows the overlapping of nādayoga ('the discipline of sacred sounds,' bhakti and

tantra traditions, physiological concepts and use of visualizations

32. The gāyatrī is said to be the essence of all the Vedas; it is taught at the time of Hindu

initiation It is a prayer for divine light to impel intelligence.

33. Nādopāsana, C. Ramanujacharı and V Raghavan, op. cit., p 510, K V Sastri, op.

cit , vol. I, p. 459. This is also similar to a śloka in the Saṅgīta Ratnākara, III 2. It is

quoted in the Svarārṇava treatise as printed by V Raghavan (verse 13) as are several

other ślokas 'The So-called Svarārṇava,' Journal of the Music Academy of Madras,

pp. 1-12. Raghavan's footnotes to this text give corresponding Saṅgīta Ratnākara

verses. The 1908 text of this song is the most correct version, it would seem, others

seem either garbled or 'corrected'

34. Vidulaku mrokkeda, C Ramanujacharı and V. Raghavan, op cit., pp 33, 511, K.V

Sastri, op. cit , vol. II, p 170

35. Musicologists and rṣikas both mythical and historical are catalogued here Laksmī,

Pārvatī and Sarasvatī are the consorts of Viṣṇu, Śiva and Brahmā, respectively;

Kāśyapa, husband of Aditi and progenitor of living beings; Candiśa or Candi-

keśvara, Hānumān, the servant-devotee of Rāma; Subrahmaṇya, the offspring of

Śiva and Pārvatī, deity of power and youth; Gaṇeśa, the elephant-headed god of

beginnings, also the offspring of Śiva and Pārvatī, Mārkaṇdeya, the sage who

wanders around the cosmos, discovering the greatness of Viṣṇu, Agastya, the

legendary sage and culture hero whose āśram was in South India; Tumburu, the

legendary singer-musician, Someśvara, musicologist, Śārṅgadeva, author of Saṅgīta

Ratnākara, a treatise on music; Nandi the bull, vehicle of Śiva

36 Gītārthamu, C. Ramanujachari and V. Raghavan, op. cit., p 230, K.V. Sastri, op cit., p. 393

37 Śrī Nārada nāda, C Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit , p 39; K V Sastri, op cit , vol. II, p. 192

38 Nārada guru sāmi, C. Ramanujachari and V. Raghavan, op cit , p 40; K.V Sastri, op cit , vol I, p 461

39. Śrī Nārada munī, C. Ramanujachari and V. Raghavan, op cit., pp. 38–39; K V Sastri, op cit , vol I, p. 200, rājullu vīne means ‘shining vīṇā’

40 Kaddanuvārıki, C Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit , pp 96, 382 Cf Psalm 107 in which the singer speaks of faithfully chanting praise, waking before dawn to play on the lyre and harp See also Isaiah 26 19 Ramakrishna and other Indian saints taught disciples to meditate before dawn, the quiet time when darkness turns to light

41 Deva rāra Rāma mahādēva, K V. Sastri, op cit , vol I, p. 434

42 Prablāda Bhakti Vijaya, 15 3, here Viṣṇu is said to love music Purandaradāsa in a song (Śrīntivāsanīne) calls the Lord gānalōla, ‘song-enamoured’ The Lord grants salvation to a singer sooner than to others, according to this song In the Lalitāsahāsranāma the Goddess’ 857th name is Gānalōlupā, ‘She who delights in music’ and the 909th is Sāmagānapriyā, ‘She who loves the chanting of the Sāma Veda’

43 Vidulaku mrokkeda, C Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit., p. 33; K V Sastri, op cit , vol II, p 170 On an article entitled ‘The Philosophy of Tyāgarāja,’ Journal of the Music Academy of Madras, vol XVIII, p 58, it is said that ‘The Seven Hills (Tirupati) represent the swaras and the Paramātma is seated at the top of the flight of seven steps . . . as a shining beacon’.

44 Ibid , Saṅgīta śāstrajñānamu, C Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit , p. 91, 512, K V Sastri, op cit., vol II p 204

45 Mūlādhāra is literally ‘holder of the origin,’ the yogic centre at the base of the spine

46 The meaning here, ‘to distinguish the proper home of the seven notes amidst the great tumult,’ is to perform the feat which an inspired composer performs, creating music from the chaos of noise, as well as to know and be established in the harmonious spiritual truth amid illusion’s discords.

47 Svarā raga sudhārasayuta, C Ramanujachari and V. Raghavan, op. cit , pp 93, 513, K V Sastri, op. cit , p 217

48 Ibid., Nādatanumanśam, C Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit , p 232; K.V. Sastri, op. cit , vol. I, p 456 Traditionally it is said (and shown iconographically) that the seven notes (sa ri ga ma pa dha ni) emanate from Śiva’s five heads The notes of the Sāma Veda are reproduced in part of the melody of this song as if to echo the ancient ‘source of music’ The opening śloka of the Saṅgīta Ratnākara refers to Śiva as Nādatanu, ‘he whose body is composed of sound’ There are mystical connections to the notes in medieval Latin monastic traditions. Meanings of the syllables given are DOminus (God the Father), SIdcra (the star systems), LActea (the milky way of our galaxy), SOL (our sun—the head of the solar system), FAta (fate, the planetary net), MIcrocosmos (the small world, man on earth), REgina de Coeli (Queen of Heaven, the moon) It is said that between FA and RE is MI,

158 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

ignorant man screening out the full light from above. Herbert Whone, 'Music, the Way of Return', Parabola issue on music, volume V, no 2, 1980 The origin of the sol-fa is also linked with a Sapphic stanza in Latin 'UT quaent laxis RE sonare fibris/MIra gestorum FA muli tuorum/ SOlve polluti LAbii reatum/ SAncte joannes ' Cited by A.M Chinnasvami Mudaliyar, Oriental Music in Staff Notation, (Pudupet, Madras. Ave Maria Press, 1893, introduction reprinted in Madras' Tamil Nadu Eyal Isai Nataka Manram, 1974)

49 Ibid , Nīdayacē Rāma, C Ramanujachari and V. Raghavan, op cit , pp 230, 492 See caranam

50. Ibid , p 512, Ānanda sāgaramīdani

51. Ibid , p 508, Intakanna ānandamēmi.

52 Ibid, It is interesting to compare the great Muslim philosopher al-Ghazzālī's Ibyā 'Ulūm ad-dīn, a treatise on music and ecstasy, with the views expressed in Tyāgarāja's songs. The Muslim philosopher was obliged to be strict in his reasoning, yet he arrived at similar conclusions about the ability of music to induce and express religious ecstasy. 'Ecstasy is truth It is what grows up out of the abundance of the love of God Most High and out of sincerity in desiring Him and in longing to meet Him . he who has a heart and experiences its natural qualities knows that verses of poetry and musical tones move it with such a moving as is not encountered through other things ... and so he imposes upon himself this method of moving his heart on Music and Ecstasy,' Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1901, pp 733, 748 Tyāgarāja was content to immerse himself in this ecstasy and sing it demonstratively, rather than philosophically explain or defend it

53 Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Reverie, discusses the cosmic destiny of the great trades, p. 211.

54 Arthur Monier-Williams, Sanskrit-English Dictionary, (Oxford Clarendon Press, 1899, 1976), p. 301

55 Kālidāsa, Raghuvaṃśa, tr. Robert Antoine (East Glastonbury India-U S Inc., 1975).

56. V. Vijayaraghavacharya and G.A Naidu, eds. The Minor Works of Tallapakkam Poets (Madras Devasthanam Press, 1935).

57. Purandaradāsa in a song mentions that he had written 475,000 kritis.

58 V V.N. Kakinada, 'Evolution of Harikathā in Telugu Nadu,' Journal of the Music Academy of Madras, vol XLIX, 1978, pp. 115–25.

59 Ibid See also, S Y Krishnaswamy, op cit , p 148-9

60. Ibid., p. 159. See also S Y Krishnaswamy, 'The Krti as Musical Form,' Forty-fourth South Indian Music Conference and Festival 1976-77 Souvenir, Indian Fine Arts Society, Madras, p 121

61 Ibid , p 123.

62 Sogasugā, C. Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op cit , pp. 90–91, K V. Sastri, op cit , p 249

63 Tyāgarāja calls his songs kīrtanas in C. Ramanujachari and V Raghavan, op. cit , Rāgaratnamālika, p. 89, and in Dāśarathi nī rnamu, p 437

THE MUSICIAN AS MYSTIC

159

64 P. Sambamoorthy, op cit., p 23.

65 T S. Parthasarathy, 'Rāgam, Tānam, Pallavi,' Indian Fine Arts Society Souvenir, 1978-79, Madras.

66. Indira Peterson, 'The krtti as an integrative cultural form. Aesthetic experience in the religious songs of two South Indian composers,' read at the Annual Meeting of the Association for Asian Studies, Los Angeles, March 31, 1979, Journal of South Asian Literature, vol. 19, no 2, 1984, pp. 165–7 See articles presented at the University of Madras 'Seminar on Musical Forms,' in Shanmukha, (Bombay) vols V and VI 1979–80.

67. T S Parthasarathy, 'The Kirtana and the Kriti,' Shanmukha, vol 4, 1979, p 15

68. Donald N Ferguson, The Why of Music, p. 206.

69 S Y Krishnasway, op cit , p 160.

70 T S Parthasarathy, in an interview, 1981. Sambamoorthy has also noted this pattern

71 Walter Kaufman, The Rāgas of South India, p 309. The small 'c' denotes the octave C, not the C note of the piano, it is equivalent to the tonic note chosen by the musician performing the piece

72 T V Subbarao, Studies in Indian Music, p. 61. Śrīrañjanī is a variation of Mela number 22, Kharaharapriya

73. S Y Krishnaswamy, 'The Krithi as a Musical Form,' pp 119 ff. See also Tyagaraja, Saint and Singer, p. 158

74 F G Lorca, The Gypsy Ballads of Garcia Lorca (Bloomington Indiana University Press, 1953), p 13

75. I A. Richards, Principles of Literary Criticism, (New York Oxford University Press), see ch 27

76 Ibid , p 143

77. R Rangaramanuja Ayyangar, 'Thyagaraja—His Contribution to Carnatic Rhythm,' Indian Fine Arts Souvenir, 1967–68, p. 49 ff.

78 Sampradāya and manodharma serve as good examples of the bipolar principles involved in the continual renewal of tradition, a topic I explored in my Harvard Ph D dissertation 'Tyāgarāja: Musician Saint of South India The exploration of a religious life and legacy,' (1984) and a theme which I discuss further in a forthcoming publication

79 Also compare T.V. Subba Rao (op cit , p. 209). 'In 'Sogasugā' he wonders whether it is possible to please the Lord with music with which the mrdaṅga is made to agree and by means of a composition whose words are true and contain the meaning of the Vedas and are rendered to harmonious notes, in easy style with all the essentials of prosodial requirements He was indeed speaking, as we know, not from his own standpoint, but from that of the ordinary man of the world for whom all his compositions are meant'. C Ramanujachari, op cit , begins his translation with the question 'Where is that great man .' giving the song yet another emphasis, p. 91.

80 A.M. Chinnasvami Mudaliar, Oriental Music in Staff Notation—see footnote on Baṇṭu rīti text page

81 Shrī Krishna Chaitanya, V. Raghavan et al , Aspects of Indian Poetics (New Delhi:

160 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1969), 'Elements of Poetic Craft,' by U Joshi, p 37

82 V Raghavan, Spiritual Heritage of Tyagaraja, p. 26, fn 1, f

83. V Vijayaraghavacharya and G.A Naidu, op. cit., v 18, p 140 This work is a condensation of the lost treatise, made by Chinna Tirumalāchāryulu, son of Peda Tirumalāchāryulu, son of Tallapakka Annamācārya.

84. Ibid., p. 142, v. 27

85 V.K. Narayana Menon, 'The Beginnings of Carnatic Music,' Sri Swati Tirunal Sangita Sabha Souvenir, 1980, Trivandrum

86 Sarma, Ramblings in Telugu Literature (Madras: Lakshminarayana Granthamala, 1978), p 20.

87 A K Ramanujan, Hymns for the Drowning (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), p 164

88 If I were asked for a single word most characteristic of the mood of Tyāgarāja's vast body of lyrics and music, one which comes to mind immediately is the Telugu word rā In many songs this word of demand, literally meaning 'Come!' is the gist of the message Bhavanuta nā bridāyamuna, Rārā mā intidāka, Daya jūcutakidi vèlarā are a few examples. Rā, called out to Lord Rāma, is the informal address, 'a familiar, even short-tempered, impatient demand, spoken as if to a member of the family or one known very well 'Come here!' Tyāgarāja's is a singing in absence, singing as a substitute for the desired union; the songs also enact an overcoming of depression caused by estrangement. However pleasing they are, their urgency reminds us that 'Singing is sweet, but remember this: lips only sing when they cannot kiss'.

89 Ananthakrishna Sarma, Journal of the Madras Music Academy, vol XVIII, p. 28.

90. C Tirumallaya Naidu, Tyagayyar, The Greatest Musical Composer of South India, p 20 of a typed copy in the possession of T.S. Parthasarathy Naidu further believed that 'apart from the sentiments, philosophical and ethical, of the songs, they possess little literary merit, and would have been long ago relegated to the limbo of oblivion, but for the music and for the profundity of his meditations and his inward struggle to unveil the great mystery of which they give evidence' In the 1920s, K.V Srinivasa Iyengar was commissioned by Adi and Company of Madras to edit collections of Tyāgarāja songs in Tamil and Telugu scripts He appears to have consulted Telugu scholars who knew nothing of music or of the bhakti composers' practice of using grāmya ('village' or colloquial) language They advised the editor to correct a number of what they considered to be grammatical improprieties These corrections did not suit the rendering of the lyrics within the musical framework, and most musicians continued to perform the songs in the original way In K. V. Srinivasa Iyengar, Tyāgarāja Hridayam, to give one such example, on p 162, song 332, the pallavi's first word is changed from cedē to the grammatically more correct Cedēdu; in the anupallavi, idē is changed to idēdu These extra syllables sound good to the grammarian's ear, but they cannot be sung within the musical framework of the song.

91. Katuri Venkateswara Rao, Telugu Kāvyamālā (New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 1957, 1976), p. 182 The songs are Entani nēe, and Sogasu jūda.

92 V. Raghavan, op cit, p. 4, uses the image of a gopuram so magnificent that one neglects the deity in the sanctum within

93 C.P Brown, A Grammar of the Telugu Language (New Delhi: Asian Educational Services, 1981 (reprint), p 344–5 Brown discusses first- and second-syllable rhymes in Welsh, Icelandic, Finnish and in Saxon poetry He cites sources for examples of this practice in Western literature In recent times, Edmund Wilson experimented with poetry rhyming at the beginning of lines. The Tamil terms for yati and prāsa are etukai and monai

94 C P Brown, English-Telugu Dictionary, p 1059 yati is defined as ‘a syllable rhyming to the initial of a line of poetry’, prāsamu is defined as ‘the second letter of each verse, the rhyming letter,’ and as ‘alliteration,’ p 853

95 Purandaradāsa’s Tāla bēku, Purandaradāsa Padagalu (Hublı S.V Shreshthı, 1959), p 67 I am indebted to T S. Parthasarathy for this and other interpretations of Kannada texts

96 M S Ramaswamy Aiyar, op cit

97 S.Y. Krishnaswamy, Thyagaraja, Saint and Singer, p 162

98 Robert Bly, line in a poem recited at Phi Beta Kappa exercises, Harvard, 4 June 1985

99 Whitehead cited by Felix Frankfurter in an essay on ‘Tradition’ in Law and Politics Occasional Papers, ed. A. MacLeish and E.F. Prichard (New York Harcourt, Brace, and Co 1939) Examples of rare rāgas included Jayantaśrı, Hamsanādam, Candra- jyoti, Dhēnuka

100 A. Sankaran, citing V. Raghavan in Some Aspects of Literary Criticism in Sanskrit, or, The Theories of Rasa and Dhvani, Madras: University of Madras, 1929, 1973. The first five chapters offer a brief history of the concept of rasa

101 M.S. Ramaswamy Aiyar, op cit, p 109

102 Richards, op. cit., p. 279

103. Augustine, Emnaratione, Psalm 32.

104 See P. Sambamoorthy, op cit , Appendix 1, pp. 6–13 See also Sambamoorthy’s article, ‘The Walajapet Manuscripts’ in Journal of the Madras Music Academy, vol. XIV, pp 86–91

105. A.M Chinnaswami Mudaliyar, op cit, (reprint), p. 68. Concluding Remarks mention the rejection of innovative disciples P Sambamoorthy, op. cit , II, pp 26–7 relates the tradition of division of labour among the disciples.

106 T.S. Parthasarathy in an interview remarked that men of the previous generation, including the author of the 1908 collection of Tyāgarāja's songs, Narasimha Bhāgavatar would not dare touch a manuscript of the saint's kṛtis without having ritually bathed and prayed This indicates Tyāgarāja's status and reputation as a composer of sacred songs To think of changing the lyrics was anathema to religious men of those times, as it would be to most South Indians today.

107 K R R Sastri, in N. Sanjiva Rao’s Theagaraja—Musician Saint, Life Works, Mission (Kumbakonam Śrī Vidyā Press, 1929), Introduction

Śrī Tyāgarāja

From an oil painting by H V Ramgopal. (Courtesy T S Parthasarathy)

Tyāgarāja's horoscope from the palm-leaf manuscript of his life written by Thanjavur Sadaśiva Rao and Venkatasuri. (Courtesy The Music Academy, Madras)

The idol of Rāma worshipped by Tyāgarāja (Courtesy The Music Academy, Madras)

సం తతము నెపుడున్ సీతమ్మ సమేతునిం దాసునే యని న

టంచు భజియించిన ధన్యజన్ముల భాగ్యమునకున్ గలుగునే -

జాలిన్ ముల్లోపలలకున్ రయు దివ్యసంపత్సర ముపల? గలద

చున్? గలద యుపల? గలద చున్? గలద సుఖమున్ గరవి యంచియ

ముదిస పలుకవ ముదమున్ గరవి యంచియ మదిన్ వరప ముదమున్

Manuscript of Pōtana Bhāgavata used by Tyāgarāja (Courtesy The Music Academy, Madras)

Paper notebook of Tyāgarāja's kritis in the Saurashtra Sabha

Collection, Madurai ( Courtesy Marcia Plant Jackson )

Palm-leaf manuscript of Tyāgarāja's kritis made by Venkataramana

Bhāgavatar, now kept in the Saurashtra Sabha Collection, Madurai

( Courtesy Marcia Plant Jackson )

The river Kaveri at Tiruvaiyāru (Courtesy Marcia Plant Jackson)

Vidvāns singing the pañcaratna Kīrtanas at the annual Tyāgarāja arādhana festival in Tiruvaiyāru (Courtesy Marcia Plant Jackson)

PART TWO

Tyāgarāja's

Kṛtis and Kīrtanas

12A

The Lyrics in Translation

Āda moḍi galadē Cārukēśi rāga Ādi tāla

P.1 Tell me why this bad mood now, dear Rāma, please speak!

A.2 I held your feet with devotion and called you my friend and my shelter, so speak

P. Tell me why this bad mood now, dear Rāma, please speak to me!

C.3 Even to the wise son of the wind, Hanumān, that fraction of Śiva, when he knelt to you You asked your brother to tell the story of your trials—so What can a nobody like Tyāgarāja expect? Tell me Why this bad mood now dear Rāma, say something to me

1 pallavi

2 anupallavi

3 caraṇam

Ādaya Śrī Raghuvara Āhiri rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. That compassion of yours,

Śrī Raghuvara,

Why does it not come today,

Ocean of Mercy,

flowing from you?

A. With gladness you taught me

The secret of true devotion

and always you protected me, before—

That compassion of yours,

Śrī Raghuvara,

Why does it not come today,

Ocean of Mercy,

flowing from you?

C. Did you not tell me you felt

all the troubles I went through,

That you were beaten and abused

when I was harmed;

Didn’t you say to forgive

countless trespasses?

Did you not brighten this body

giving rice and betel-nuts;

Did you not give courage

to Tyāgarāja, saying

‘We are your parents—’

That compassion of yours, Śrī Raghuvara,

Why does it not come today,

Ocean of Mercy, flowing from you?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

167

Alakalallalāḍaga Madhyamāvati rāga Rūpaka tāḷa

P. Seeing Rāma's long hair flowing

how the royal sage's gladness

grew and grew!

A. How exquisitely, when Mārīca's pride

was downed, Rāma's hair swayed,

And seeing Rāma's long hair flowing

how the royal sage's rapture

grew and grew!

C. And Rāma understood the sage's wink

Signalling him, that time he cracked

Śiva's great bow like a thunderbolt;

And the sage, seeing the glow on that face

of the Lord adored by Tyāgarāja,

And seeing Rāma's long hair flowing—

how that royal sage's ecstasy

grew and grew!

Ānanda sāgaramīdanı Garuḍadhvani rāga Ādi tāla

P. Anybody who does not swim

immersed in the ocean of ecstasy

is a burden to the earth, O Rāma

A. Consort of Śrī—there is a vast ocean

of ecstasy which is musical wisdom

inspired by the Vedas—and

anybody who does not swim in this

is a burden to the earth, O Rāma

C. Haven’t Śiva, Viṣṇu, Brahmā,

and great holy beings

shown their devotion to that ocean?

O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

who praises rāga and tāla

realizing this

anybody who does not swim

and play in the ocean of ecstasy

has taken birth

just to burden the earth,

O Rāma!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

169

Anāthuduḍanu gānu Jingalā rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. I am not an orphan, Rāma, no;

A. But you are an orphan, I have heard

In the ancient Vedic sages' words.

I am not an orphan, Rāma,

C. Though lowlife types may say so

In this Kali age,

Seeing me seemingly helpless this way

O ancient original Person

Adored by Śiva, Tripura's destroyer,

O Sleeper on the cosmic serpent

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja,

I am not an orphan, Rāma

You are the orphan, I have heard

In the ancient Vedic sages' words

170

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Anduḍakanē vēga vaccedanani Pantuvarāli rāga Tripuṭa tāla

P. Give your pledge to me, saying,

'I shall come quickly';

Don't remain in that place where you're staying

A. What shall I do, if you forget

getting together with your friends,

Lifter of Mandara mountain, Rāma,

Give your pledge to me, saying,

'I shall come quickly',

and don't remain in that place where you're staying

C.1. If you're not here when my eyes long so to see you

the water of my eyes will flow like streams;

Lord of the solar line, if your arrival is delayed

the only home I'll know will be my dooryard gate

So make a pledge to me, saying 'I shall come quickly';

Don't remain there in that place where you're staying

C.2. When you're not here on the bed of unique bliss,

a single moment becomes a whole yuga! O supreme Lord!

when I get confused from not seeing you, I become

their target for joking derision

So make me a promise and say 'I'll be there right away',

And don't remain there in that place where you stay

C.3. Should my full devotion and the prime of my life

be placed at the disposal of demons? Granter of wishes,

should your feet (which are worshipped by Tyāgarāja)

stay an ocean away from me?

O make me a promise and say 'I'll be there right away',

Don't remain in that place anymore where you're

staying!

172

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Anupama gunāmbudhi Aṭāna rāga Jhampa tāla

P Trusting in you fully

as the only ocean of unique virtues

I have become your follower

A But you do not guard me

descendant of Manu—

Who might I send to deliver my pleas?

Hear me! Let your mercy flow!

Trusting in you fully

as the only ocean of true values,

I've become your follower

C.1. O son-in-law of Janaka

don't be inert like mother earth;

This is much too much trickery—

you're a father to me, O Hari!

C.2. Why this hypocrisy? Look at me

you who wear clothes of gold;

Is it because you think I'm treating

this body like something very valuable?

C.3. In my dreams you are the master

of the entire universe;

Hearing how you protected your subjects

giving them needed clothing

I've become your trusting follower .

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

173

C.4 O moon who arose from the sea

of the Raghu dynasty, guardian of gods,

Rescuer of the king of elephants, Gajendra,

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

Trusting in you fully as

the only ocean of unique virtues,

I have become your follower

174 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Anurāgamu lēni Sarasvatī rāga Rūpaka tāla

P. To the mind without love, wisdom will not come

A. Only those grown great in deep understanding know but to the mind without love, wisdom will not come

C. Like the satisfaction of people enjoying a leisurely feast is the joy of those who dwell absorbed in the Lord with form and, Lord adored by Tyāgarāja, To the mind without love wisdom will not come

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

175

Badalika dīra pavvalañcavē Rītigaula rāga Ādi tāla

P. Take your rest from weariness,

lie down, O Lord

A. Severing all my sins from me

which nothing else could undo

King of kings, Ayodhya Rāma

Take your rest from weariness,

lie down here, Lord

C. Seeing Brahmā in a miserable state

you were born as the leading light

of the solar race;

going to the forest with lotus-eyed

Sītā, killing the ‘deer’,

you put down the fool Rāvaṇa's pride;

you gave golden Lanka to Vibhīṣaṇa

who had no doubts; spotless Lord,

you saved the gods! Rāma

adored by Tyāgarāja

severing all my sins from me

which nothing else could undo

King of kings, Ayodhya Rāma

Take your rest from weariness,

yes, lie down here, my Lord

176

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Balamu kulamu ēla Sāverī rāga Rūpaka tāla

P Why be concerned with strength or caste?

Having Rāmabbakti is the source

from which all the siddhis will be added

C.1. Both crows and fish may splash and dive—

are they performing their morning ablutions?

If storks have their eyes closed, does it mean

they are sitting in holy meditation?

C.2. Goats may munch on leaves but is that proof

they are engaged in stringent fasting?

Though speckled birds move through the sky

can they be compared with the sun and moon?

Why be concerned with strength or caste?

Having Rāmabbakti is the true source

from which all the siddhis will be added

C.3. If ordinary people are in caves and wear ochre

should they be considered genuine sages?

Because monkeys live away in the forest

does it follow they are hermits of holiness?

C.4. When beggars appear in Liṅgāyat dress and silence

is it proper to conclude they are truly wise men?

Should naked-limbed children ever be mistaken

for the saints who wear only the four directions?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

177

C.5. The bhakti of the best devotees of Tyāgarāja's Lord

is sufficient for all to spend as acceptable coin

So then why be concerned with strength or caste?

Having Rāmabhaktī is the true source

from which all the siddhis will be added

178

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Baṇṭu rīti Hamsanāda rāga Deśādi tāla

P. Master Rāma, have you a position

for me in your court, as a guardsman?

A. Lust, whose bow is sugar-cane, then Pride,

and all their cohorts

let me catch and dash to earth

as a guardsman of yours

Master Rāma, have you a position

for me in your court, as a guardsman?

C. Give me rapture's tingling

for my invincible armour

for my badge the insignia

'Devotee of Rāma'

I shall wield the finest sword

—the Rama nāma

Please give the full regalia to me,

make Tyāgarāja shine

Master Rāma, have you a position

for me in your court,

as a guardsman?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

179

Bhajarē Raghuvīram śara Kalyāṇi rāga Ādī tāḷa

P. Worship the Raghu hero

who carries arrows

the son of Daśaratha .

C.1. Quit blaming ‘them’

and get sick of your own faulty cravings

C.2. Think ‘the joys of the five-fold world

are poison’ and master your five senses

C.3. Perform decent acts

and drive away lust and other distractions

C.4. Is everything that pops into your head

really your business

or is some of it the stuff

of aimless wandering nowhere?

C.5. Don’t get involved in scams

don’t become some ‘tiger in a cowskin’

C.6. Cease your wayward straying,

focus on crossing life’s ocean

C.7. Offering to Hari all you do,

flow with joy to do the acts of truth

180

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

C 8. Understand the pathway of bhakti

and melt immersed in bhāgavata gatherings

C.9. Worship the one without delusions

pondering on Rāma in your heart.

C.10. Knowing the one who blessed Tyāgarāja

shining as brightly as an emperor, worship

the Raghu hero with arrows,

son of Daśaratha

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

181

Bhavanuta nā hṛdayamuna Mohana rāga Ādi tāla

P. Lord adored by Śiva

come here enjoy yourself in my heart

relax and take it easy, be refreshed

A. Lord who helps us through life's whirlpools

you had a long talk with me

to relax and take it easy, be refreshed

Lord adored by Brahmā

come here enjoy yourself in my heart

relax and take it easy, be refreshed

C.1. Lord so dear to Hanumān the wind-god's son

you wandered around just for me!

now relax and take it easy, be refreshed

you arrived at my house, surprising me,

to relax and take it easy, be refreshed

C.2. You did not accept my best offerings to you

to relax and take it easy, be refreshed

To prevent a mishap you reconciled the quarrel

to relax and take it easy, be refreshed

C.3. You told me you'd give me fame and protection

to relax and take it easy, be refreshed

You are Tyāgarāja's Lord, adored also by Brahmā

come here enjoy yourself in my heart

relax and take it easy, be refreshed

13

182

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Cakkani rājamārgamu Kharaharapriyā raga Ādi tāla

P. When there's a straight royal highway to travel,

why do you duck down the side-streets, O heart?

A. When there is nourishing thick creamy milk,

is tippling despicable toddy so smart?

C. O His very form so lovely to the eyes!

His very name, on the tongue of three-eyed Śiva!

The primal Lord himself, enshrined in the house

of Tyāgarāja! This very devotion to Rāma of Ayodhya!

When there's this straight royal highway to travel,

why do you duck down the side-streets, O heart?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

183

Cani tōḍi tēvē Harikāmbhōji rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. Go on and catch him

and fetch him

and bring him to me, O mind!

A. Kindly seek him out

and take him by the hand

So that we may taste

pleasures for a long long time

Go on and catch him

and fetch him

and bring him to me, O mind!

C. Bring the one who is called

'Uplifter-of-the-fallen'

the follower of Vasiṣṭha

on the path of summum bonum

whose splendour outshines

a legion of love-gods

and who moves within the heart

of conscientious Tyāgarāja

Go on and catch him

and fetch him

and bring him to me, O mind!

184

TYĀGARĀJA - LIFE AND LYRICS

Cēsinadella maracitvō Tōḍi rāga Ādi tāla

P. What, have you forgotten

everything you've done,

O Rāma, Rāma?

A. I'm full of passionate love for you

but you wear me out,

harrassing me —

have you forgotten

everything you've done

in the past, O Rāma, Rāma?

C.1. Knowing that your wife,

so devoted to you,

was in need, you wasted no time

in befriending Sugrīva,

the helpful monkey-prince

C 2. Keeping your word, you told your brother,

Ādiśēsa incarnate,

to protect Vibhīṣaṇa, and

you made him Lanka's king; remember?

C.3. O Rāma, avatār of the love

of Śrī Tyāgarāja

for bringing news of Sītā's whereabouts

you promoted strong Hanumān

to be the next Brahmā—

Now have you forgotten,

all these things you've done?

O Rāma, Rāma!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

185

Cinnanāṭanē ceyi Kaḷānidhi rāga Dēśādi tāḷa

P. Even in my childhood,

did you not take me by the hand?

A. Accepting my countless services,

you said you would fully protect me . . .

Even in my childhood,

did you not take me by the hand?

C. But today I can't help but wonder

if you accept me or want to dump me .

Save my honour, reservoir of excellence,

please, great Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

Even in my childhood,

did you not take me by the hand?

186

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Dācukōvalenā Tōḍi rāga Jampa tāḷa

P. Should you hide from me O Daśaratha's son

all your much needed compassion?

A. Seeing me humiliated

in the eyes of lookers on

Should you hide from me, O Daśaratha's son,

all your much needed compassion?

C.1. When once in affection

you planted a kiss

on your shining lady's face,

And she at an apt moment put in

a good word for me,

Should you hide from me now O Daśaratha's son,

all your much needed compassion?

C.2. When, melting with surrender,

Bharata fell at your feet

you blessed him most mercifully;

Now when he tells you, speaking of me

'He is every bit as much a devotee',

Should you hide from me, O Daśaratha's son,

all your much needed compassion?

C.3. When you praised the skilful service

of your brother Lakṣmaṇa

attending on you so religiously

He said a word or two about Tyāgarāja

Should you hide from me now, O Daśaratha's son,

all your much needed compassion?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

187

Daśarathī nī ṛnamu Tōḍi rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. O son of Dasaratha

how could I ever

pay off my debt to you?

O Lord whose name

is supremely pure

A. Crest-jewel of connoisseurs

you made me illustrious

in distant regions

to my great satisfaction!

O Dasarathī, how could I ever

settle my account with you?

C. You appeared in a dream

to the greatest of fanciful poets

knowing otherwise he'd be ignorant

of the feeling at poetry's heart

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

you inspired me to sing songs

which give pleasure and release

into peace without measure

O Daśarathī, how could I ever

settle my account with you?

Lord whose name is

supremely pure!

188

TYĀGARĀJA - LIFE AND LYRICS

Dayarānī dayarānī Mōhana rāga Ādi tāla

P. Show pity and shower your mercy on me

Rāma, son of king Daśaratha

C.1. Is it possible, O Raghuvīra,

to describe in detail my rapture?

C.2. At the mere thought of you my skin

just tingles all over, Rāma

C.3. My tears well up, Rāma,

with ānanda at seeing you

C.4. When I long for you with love,

the whole world becomes a straw

C.5. Whenever I embrace your feet

I totally forget myself

C.6. When you are near me—

What, me worry?

C.7. I think it's just bad karma

to be with those

ignorant of your secret

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

189

C.8. Did you take the avatār

of Rāma just for my sake?

C.9. Did you walk this earth

to save poor servants like me?

C.10. You're the original source

existing before the trinity

C.11. You are Tyāgarāja's

sole companion, Rāma,

Show pity and shower your mercy on me,

Rāma, son of King Daśaratha

190

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Daya jūcutakidi vēlarā Gānāvāridhi rāga Ādi tāla

P. Look on me with love this very instant

Come, King Daśaratha’s son!

A. Regal lion guarding my very existence

Alleviator of the creator’s pain

Lord, with your most delightful presence

Look on me with love this very instant

Come, King Daśaratha’s son!

C. Once upon a time you gave a command

And I performed those tasks

with all my joyful heart

and with a careful patient hand

O noblest, dearest friend of Tyāgarāja

Grace me with your love this very instant

Come now, King Daśaratha’s son!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION 191

Ḍaya sēyavayya sadaya Yadukulakāmbhōji rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. Please do me a favour

O merciful Rāmacandra:

A. Give me even a little bit

of Sītā’s grace

on that happy day

C. When she was thinking of you

and the other princes arrived

and she lost her cool mind;

then the nanny said to Sītā

‘He’ll be here’. What joy!

Please do me a favour

O merciful Rāmacandra:

Give me even a little taste

of Sītā’s grace on that happy day

C.2. When she said ‘Maybe there

are other girls Rāma

likes as well as me—and so

he’s not coming?’—despondent—

Then suddenly you appeared—

and at that greeting—what joy!

C.3. Thinking ‘How could this little

figure bend a bow so big?’,

she fretted, and then you

revealed your real size to her

C.4. The joy no one else could know—

the joy she felt that day

when you took her by the hand

and tied the mangalyam strands—

the joy of your bride that day

Please do me a favour

O merciful Rāmacandra:

Give me even a little taste

of Sītā's grace on that happy day

C.5. The way you made it known

to the gathering of people, saying

'I will always protect

those who seek refuge with me—'

do the same for Tyāgarāja

Please do me that favour

O merciful Rāmacandra:

Give me even a little taste

of Sītā's grace

on that happy day

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

193

Dēva Rāma Rāma Saurasṭram rāga Rūpaka tāḷa

P. Lord Rāma, Rāma,

Mahādēva Rāghava

A. Enemy of the love-god

Lord of the dance

Save me, Purifier

C Śaṅkara, Benefactor

always merciful

holding arrows

Master of bhaktas

ever the conqueror

in wars with demons

divine connoisseur

Śiva Tyāgarāja

194

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Dehi tava pada Śahāna rāga Ādi tāla

P O Vaidehī, let me always

be devoted to your feet,

Purifier of the fallen.

A. You give the fruits of life

here and in the other world,

You grant the wishes

of your children,

including Kāma and Brahmā

C. Born of the ocean of milk;

gorgeous with your

golden ornaments;

You were pleased with

the songs of Agastya;

Companion to king Kākutstha

the cosmic golden egg is your form;

your braided hair is like a bee swarm;

Queen of the protector

of Vedic sacrifices;

Source of all my blessings;

Protectress of those

who run to you for refuge;

you put down the pride of

the hundred-headed demon;

your eyes are like the lotus

dawn-sun fresh; and

you live in the heart of Tyāgarāja

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

195

Dhyānamē varamaṭna Dhanyāsi rāga Āḍi tāḷa

P. The act of immersing the mind in Śrī Rāma

is a most holy bath in the Gaṅgā

A. Will the stains of deceit and sneakiness

inside a man

come clean if he scrubs and scrubs

with just the rain

The act of immersing the mind in Śrī Rāma

is a most holy bath in the Gaṅgā

C. Tyāgarāja knows that

for those who thirst for Rāma

and who free themselves

from causing hurt to others

and who are blind

to others' wealth and women

The very act of immersing

the mind in Śrī Rāma

is a most holy bath in the Gaṅgā

196

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Dorakunā ituvant!i Bilahari rāga Ādi tāla

P. Can anyone find worship like this?

A. Can brahmins or gods who've done only a bit of tapas

have access to such a lovely service?

C.1. Tumburu and Nārada elaborately perform songs

singing the Lord's fine qualities.

Other devotees, Ambarīsa taking the lead,

chant divine names, and they make cascades

of white jasmine-like flowers flow …

Bimba-lipped divine courtesans, tresses plaited

like swarming bees, perform enchanting dances,

Brahmā and Indra and the gods on either side;

and they praise the glories of the Lord's dynasty;

The wives-of-celestials' golden bangles jingle

as they wave their chowries, gem necklaces swinging

To see the Lord seated there on the couch

of the cosmic serpent which they swing and sway—

Can anyone find such divine worship as this?

C.2. His body brilliant as a sapphire shining

in resplendent golden clothes, the toe-nails

of his feet glow like little moonlets! On his arms

blaze gleaming bracelets, jewellery made of diamonds,

and pearl necklaces adorn his chest,

and fitting ornaments adorn his ears and shoulders …

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

197

His face has a handsome smile, bangs hang on his

forehead,

His cheeks with a mirror-like glow pour forth beauty,

The mark on his forehead is bright—this is the fountain-

head

of all beauty in the whole wide world!

Ah, to see this adorable beauty! Can anyone

easily find this rare kind of worship?

C.3. Sages with no trace of blinding ignorance or dullness

stand dumbfounded unable to utter praise, seeing

the image placed with care on the holy golden swing

Seeing her beloved Sītā, fulfiller of wishes,

is overjoyed! And Tyāgarāja, son of Rāmabrahmam

keeps singing and swinging Rāma, world-uplifter

demon-doomer, form of spiritual intelligence,

beyond the strands of limited existence,

Whose desires are fulfilled, who is the reservoir

of all good qualities—to gaze to one’s heart’s content

upon him—can anyone at all have access

to such a precious worship service as this?

Can brahmins or gods who’ve done only a bit of tapas

have access to such a lovely service?

14

198

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Duḍukugala Gauḷa rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. I'm so full of folly, what prince would protect me?

A. Being strongly drawn by harmful sensuality,

All of the time, and in such plenty—

Folly so foolish, what Lord could protect me?

C.1. O Moon with rays which cause the lily

of Lakṣmī's heart to bloom

You are ineffable and unimaginable!

C.2. You are pervasive, in all the beings of creation,

and yet I did not realize it.

C.3. In the blossom of my youth, I never tasted the nectar

of well-sung prayers, and I went from bad to worse

C.4. Flattering others to melt their minds, and then

siphoning off their wealth, I roved to fill my belly;

C.5. Telling myself a this-worldly life of creature comforts

is the purpose of living, I wasted all my days

C.6. Being a fool I taught dancers and womanizers,

low life types, as well as the weaker sex,

To gain supremacy over them, and I was glad, and

gloated.

Without even having a grasp of the twenty-two tones

or rhythm cycles, my heart rock-hard, I thought:

'I'm as good as the best devotees'.

C.7. I misplaced my trust in lovelies easy on the eyes,

in a house and children, in a retinue of servants

and lots of wealth, O Lord of Lords! I became

completely oblivious to praising your lotus feet—

What prince would protect a man so full of folly?

C.8. Never calling to mind your good-looking lotus face

I sought out people whose pride made them blind

and I was pitifully caught up in entanglements;

Suffering, unable to stop doing wicked deeds, and

subject to harmful desires, I became unsteady

with an ever-wavering mind—

C.9. Forgetting how hard it is to be born a human,

instead of attaining supreme bliss

I enslaved myself to arrogance, jealousy, lust,

greed, delusion, you name it—

getting severely swindled in the process;

born to the highest of castes, I busied myself

doing the deeds of a śūdra; I kept company

with people of bad character,

and I further went astray following phoney religions.

C.10. Some days it was for women, other times for children

and property, and for amassing wealth—

whatever—

I roamed and roved, O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja!

So full of folly what prince could protect me?

200

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Dvaitamu sukhamā Rītigaula rāga Ādi tāla

P. Is divine unity supreme happiness?

Or is the soul's and the divine beloved's

togetherness?

Which reality is the happiest?

A. Listen, O pure consciousness!

Hear me, O universal witness!

Answer me in detailed fullness

Is divine unity supreme happiness?

Or is the soul's and the divine beloved's

togetherness?

Which reality is the happiest?

C. Throughout the sky, and wind

and sun and earth

And any other parts of the universe

Amongst Viṣṇu and Brahmā,

Śiva and Indra,

And all the other celestials,

Amidst the very best of

the lovers of the Lord,

You play and pervade, and prevail—

You are the one Tyāgarāja adores;

Is divine unity supreme happiness, or

The soul's and the divine beloved's togetherness?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

201

Ēdāri sañcarinturā Kāntāmaṇi rāga Dēśādi tāḷa

P. Which way shall I travel here—

will you tell me—

A. Giver of all that's auspicious

unbegun, middleless, endless

Lord with your lady, Sītā,

vast mine of virtues

Which way shall I travel here—

will you tell me—

C. If I proceed on the path

of saying 'I am the All',

You will say I've abandoned

all responsibility ...

But if I'm always saying

'Lord, please save me',

You will say 'This man

sees nothing but duality!'

Which way shall I travel here—

will you tell me,

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja?

202

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Eduta nilicitē nīdu Śaṅkarābharaṇam rāga Ādi tāḷa

P If you were to appear before me

Would any of your wealth be lost?

A. I know the fate etched at birth

on my forehead and won't try to exceed my limits;

I know my place, so I won't be set up

to get let down, but if you were to appear

before me how much of your wealth would it cost?

C.1. Look me straight in the face

and understand my needs;

I won't pester you for boons—

Listen to my prayer, king of all the gods,

Beautiful one, if you stood before me

would any of your wealth be diminished?

C.2. Sītā's consort! Divine Lord!

This is the very moment to save me!

My mind will not plead with other gods—

Don't you know this? Rāghava,

what kind of heroism is this?

If, over and over, you were to come here

standing before me, would you lose any prestige?

C.3. In days gone by I never used to find

this neglect of me, O Rāma! Now

what's the cause of this obstinacy?

If you behave this way will the devas

and devils applaud? Lord adored

by the bhakta Tyāgarāja, if you appeared

before me now, how much wealth would it cost?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

203

Ehi tryagadīśa Sāraṅga rāga Cāpu tāla

P. Come close, O Śiva, Three Worlds’ Lord,

protect me! Lord of the five rivers,

A. Praised by Agastya, the ocean-swallower,

Śiva, together with Ambā, the Mother

`Give me the support of your lotus hand;',

C.1. Ganges-bearer, steadfast one, destroyer

of the gods’ foes’ leaders,

You bring auspiciousness! O city-shatterer,

You hold the pretty deer in your hand,

you are the bumble-bee in the lotus heart

of your devotees, shapely-limbed Lord,

Come close, O Śiva, Three Worlds’ Lord

Protect me! Lord of the five rivers,

C.2. With an elephant skin wrapped around your waist

You deliver us beyond the ocean of existence,

Protector of the gods, wind dispersing clouds

of cruel men, bright white form, remover of sins

You are higher than the highest,

Come close, O Śiva, three worlds’ Lord

Protect me! Lord of the five rivers,

C.3. Supreme king! Ocean of compassion!

Delight of the mountain-king’s daughter,

Your feet are adored by Kubera, O Nandi’s master

You are Tyāgarāja’s king! Come close, O Śiva,

Three Worlds’ Lord! Protect me!

Lord of the five rivers!

204

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Ēlā nīdayarādu Athāna rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. How is it your grace hasn't come?

Seems like You've forgotten

Isn't this the right time to protect me?

A. Youth whose clothes are woven gold!

Refuge of the good! Lord fond of Lakṣmī,

You protect with that quiver of arrows

you hold, bestower of good fortune,

reservoir of compassion!

Blue cloud Lord, adorned

with a fresh wildflower garland

C.1. Come, God of gods! Come, magnanimous one!

Come, Lord whose eyes are lotus-like!

Best Offspring of the Raghus, surrounded

by those whose hearts are full of ambrosia!

O Fathomless Sea! Bringer of doom to demons!

Daśaratha's son! You sport within wise souls!

Essence of all the Vedas!

Seems as if You've forgotten, and You neglect me

Isn't this the time right now for You to protect me?

C.2. King of rulers! Your feet are worshipped

by the sages! Your eyes are the sun and moon!

Most worthy Refuge! Such great beauty!

You are worshipped by the one whose hair

Is decorated with the moon

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

205

Rider of the great bird-king!

Father of the creator! Your feet are worshipped

by Indra, your splendour is like a myriad suns!

Lion able to tear apart elephant-like demon hordes!

Your face is exquisite as a lotus flower!

C.3. Guardian of sacrifices! Praised by great bhāgavatas!

Cherished in Śiva king-of-the-yogis' heart!

Unborn and everlasting Lord! You repose

on the cosmic serpent, you fulfilled

the wish of the best elephant!

O Wearer of the snake-like punnāga flower!

Ever the cleanser of all our sins!

Your feet are held by Hanumān, son

of the restless wind!

You pervade the Upaniṣads!

Lord free from desire!

Why hasn't your grace come to me?

Seems it slipped Your mind;

Isn't this the right time to protect me?

But You neglect me

206

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Ēlāvarāramettuḵonṭivō Mukhāri rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. Why have you incarnated as Rāma?

What is the reason?

A. Is it to wage a war on the demons?

Or to protect Ayodhya, O Rāghava,

Why have you incarnated as Rāma?

What is the reason?

C. Is it to see and to bless the yogis?

Or to rescue from existential ills?

Is it to grant boons to Tyāgarāja

Who has strung you a garland of gems

Composed of one hundred rāgas?

Why have you incarnated as Rāma?

What is the reason?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

207

Ēmānaticcēvo Śahāna rāga Rūpaka tāla

P. What order did you issue,

What was your thought for me?

A. Won't you listen to my words?

Rāma, what is my fortune to be?

What order did you issue,

What was your thought for me?

C. O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja,

Shining source of a sound body,

Giver of one-pointedness, fame,

True bhakti and longevity,

What order did you issue? Rāma

What was your thought for me?

208

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Ēmani pogadudu Vīravasantam rāga Ādi tāla

P. How shall I praise you, Śrī Rāma?

A. You are the auspicious mark

on the solar dynasty's forehead!

The cosmic sleeper on the waters...

How shall I praise you, Śrī Rāma?

C. You gave the strand of darkness to Śiva

To Brahmā you gave the passionate strand

You caused Indra's heart

to puff up with pride

cosmic sleeper on the waters...

How shall I praise you, Śrī Rāma?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

209

Ēmī dōva balkumā Sāraṅga rāga Ādī tāla

P. Tell me now, which road to take,

where shall I go, Śrī Rāma?

A Were I another Rāmadās, Sītā,

your wife, would plead my case.

Tell me now, which road to take,

where shall I go, Śrī Rāma?

C. Sash girded tightly, holding bow and arrows

you struck off Rāvaṇa’s heads

and destroyed his reserve forces;

You were standing there,

and Brahmā, Viṣṇu and Śiva came

with one thing in mind: to fitly praise,

and you responded in your grace;

So when I call you ‘Little Prince’,

why should you come up

with any mercy for me?

I know this, Lord couched on

the cosmic serpent,

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja,

So you tell me, which road to take,

where to now, Śrī Rāma?

210

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Endarō mahānubhāvulandariki Śrī rāga Ādi tāḷa

P To as many great souls as there be

I bow respectfully

A. To those who knew divine ecstasy

in their lives, seeing in their lotus hearts

His beauteous form whose hue is like the moon's—

To however many there are, great souls all, I bow

C.1. O Lord, reveller in celestial music,

Beautiful as the god of love,

To all the greatest souls whom you have blessed

I bow respectfully, however many there may be

C.2. To those who put an end to the endlessly wandering

monkey-like mind, and who steadily gaze upon

your lucid form, to as many of those great souls

as there may be, I bow reverently

C.3. To those who make the offering of the lotus heart

at the Lord's holy feet, unhesitatingly

I bow in homage to them all, whatever their number

C.4. To those of the true path, virtuous souls who sing

the supreme Lord who is the Saviour

of the downtrodden; to those well-versed

in melody, tones, rhythm and all

the other mysteries of music, I bow with thanks...

C.5. To those numberless lovers of God on whose necks glisten the garlands of virtue-gems, who save with their nectar looks the whole world with wisdom, friendship and compassion— to them I give honour, no matter what their number

C.6. To those celebrated ecstatic souls, sunk in a sea of bliss, their beings tingling as they gaze directly at the Lord, who is ever easy to reach and who moves so gracefully—to all of them my heart goes out in thankful greeting

C.7. To the intense devotees, saints, moon and sun, the sages Sanaka, Sanandana and the regents of the directions, to the gods and the celestials, To Prahlāda, Nārada, Tumburu and Hanumān. To the crescent-adorned Śiva, Suka, Brahmā, To the brahmins, great men, people of everlasting worth, always established in the Great Divine Joy— those great souls—I bow to them all!

C.8. To those devoted to your form and name, glory and might, courage and calm, Your tender-loving-heartedness and your truthfulness, O Best of Raghus! To those who sing joyfully excellent kīrtanas always in tune with your will, proving the delusion of doctrines which do not inspire

real bhakti to you, Lord, to those great souls

regardless of their number I pay homage

C.9. To whose who have grasped the inner meanings

of the Bhāgavata, the Rāmāyaṇa, the Gītā,

the Vedas, śāstras and purāṇas, and the secrets

of the six faiths—Śaivism and the rest,

Who know the minds of the 33,00,00,000, gods, and

who,

winning long life with the delight of music’s moods,

tones, and tempos, find limitless bliss,

becoming Tyāgarāja’s bosom friends—

To them, however many there may be,

I bow respectfully

C.10. To those brimful and spilling love of him,

who dwell on his name, real lovers of Rāma,

true servants of the Lord whom Tyāgarāja adores,

To all of them I bow, however great their number

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

213

Endu dāginādō Tōḍi rāga Cāpu tāla

P. Where is he concealed?

He won’t reveal himself!

When will his grace come, O mind?

A. Don’t be so fickle and flighty

Listen to what I say

It is as it was in the old days

Just to save his bhaktas

Where might he be concealed?

He won’t reveal himself

When will his grace come, O mind?

C.1. Once long ago, when Hiraṇyakaśipu

flew into a fury, putting his son

through every conceivable ordeal,

The Lord could not stand the thought

—didn’t he reveal himself

from within the pillar

for unstoppable Prahlāda’s sake?

Just so, where is he concealed today?

He won’t reveal himself!

When will his grace come, O mind?

15

C.2. Once, seeing Sugrīva, the monkey-son

of the sun-god, being badly beaten

by Vāli, son of the cloud-rider Indra

Unable to bear the thought of it

didn’t the Lord conceal himself

behind a palmyra tree, to rescue him?

In the same way today

where is he secreted?

He won’t reveal himself!

When will his grace come, O mind?

C.3. To cancel our karma from misdeeds in previous births

and also to catch and pulverize

the six enemies of humans, and to save

Tyāgarāja and this world’s steadfast bhaktas

Where is he playing hide and seek today?

—He won’t reveal himself!

When will his grace come, O mind?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

215

Endu kaugilinturā Śuddhadēśi rāga Ādi tāla

P. Where may I reach to embrace you?

How may I take you and hold you?

How could I ever describe you?

A. Your teeth are like lovely white flowers

You live inside Lakṣmī’s heart

How can I hold you to me?

How could I ever describe you?

C. Your talk is the talk

Your walk is the walk

Your glow’s the real glow

True Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

How can I hold you close to me?

How could I ever describe you?

216

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Enduku daya rādu Tōḍi rāga Tripuṭa tāḷa

P. Why does your mercy not come, Rāmacandra?

A. Thinking my pleas mere noise,

have you forgotten me?

Are you not there?

C.1. Unable to bear the useless and ceaseless

ocean of existence,

I have become terrified, and I tremble

like droplets on a lotus leaf;

Seeing me like this, cloud-hued

unequalled hero, why does your mercy not come?

C.2. I cannot form friendships with people who

are endlessly whirled in this worldly sea!

My body, O Rāma, has become half what it was!

Seeing me like this, lotus-eyed immaculate form

Why does your mercy not come, Rāmacandra?

C.3. Why this delay? Do you say ‘This isn’t the time’?

If so, then please tell me which way I should go!

Without you there is no protection

You are the shelter of the poor,

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja,

Your life enables the crossing!

Why does your mercy not come,

Rāmacandra?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

217

Enta bhāgyamō Sāraṅga rāga Dēśādi tāla

P. How great is our fortune to have you among us!

In these three worlds who's as lucky as we?

A. You came so close and spoke so gently

You washed away worries and sweetly saved us

How great is our fortune...

who's as lucky as we?

C. Long ago you saved great sages living near you

Playfully granting your protection fittingly

Giving them the power to shrink

and the other powers—

Even so, now, you have saved me!

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

How great is our fortune to have you among us!

In these three worlds who's as lucky as we?

218

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Entanı nē varṇintunu Mukhāri rāga Rūpaka tāla

P. How can I describe

Śabarī's good fortune?

A. In the whole world,

filled with noble wives of sages,

How can I describe

Śabarī's good fortune?

C. She feasted her eyes on him

to her heart's content

She offered him sweet fruits—

falling at the Lord's feet

her body tingling, shivering

with divine love's raptures

she attained the realm of no rebirth

in the presence of the Lord

of the solar line!

This woman so revered by Tyāgarāja—

and her virtuous merits—

How might I describe, and

how could I depict

her incredible good fortune?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

219

Enta rāni tanakenta Harikāmbhōji rāga Deśādi tāla

P. Whatever I win, whatever I lose

How could I ever stop thinking of you,

Śrī Rāma?

A. Śiva, who's known as Death's deadly foe

Became Hanumān so he could serve you,

didn't he?

C.1. The cosmic serpent, Śiva's fine jewel

Became Lakṣmaṇa to shine with you,

didn't he?

Whatever may come or go I know

I can't stop thinking of you still

Śrī Rāma

C.2. O best of men, to serve you only

The gods became a monkey army,

didn't they?

Whatever may come, whatever may go

I'll think of you, that's all I know

Śrī Rāma

C.3. At the Vedas' peak your splendours are sung

And they're always on Tyāgarāja's tongue

Śrī Rāma

Whatever may come or go I know

I can't stop thinking of you still

Śrī Rāma

220 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Ē panikō Asāvēri rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. For what purpose was I born?

You shouldn’t have to wonder

about that, Śrī Rāma

A. O Lakṣmī’s Lord, Śrī Rāmacandra

Don’t you know your own mind,

That you have to ask the purpose

I was born, Śrī Rāma

You shouldn’t have to wonder about that

C. Vālmīki and various sages and people

have tried to describe you

But will that ever satisfy my yearning?

True bhaktas will catch what I mean

and be glad, O Lord adored

by Tyāgarāja—I was born for this

For what purpose was I born?

You shouldn’t have to wonder

about that, Śrī Rāma

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

221

Eṭula brōtuvō telıya Cakravākam rāga Tṛpụṭa tāḷa

P. How are you going to save me?

I do not know, my only one,

my dear Rāma...

A. Unfortunately my story

Is harsh to the ear, dear Rāma

C. Like a stray beast eating,

wandering around,

Praising for my belly's sake

every certified miser,

Doing things I shouldn't do,

companioning rogues—

How are you going to save

a Tyāgarāja like that

who has earned disrepute—

I do not know, my only one,

my dear Rāma...

222

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Ētāvuna nērcitvō Yadukulakāmbhoji rāga Deśādi tāla

P. Just where did you learn this,

O Rāma, and why go to such a bother?

A. With Sītā, Lakṣmaṇa, Bharata

Śatrughna, Hanumān and others,

playing out this big drama

Just where did you pick up this knack,

O Rāma, and why go to such a bother?

C. Did women ask for diamonds and jewellery?

Did your brothers and parents ask for food?

Did excellent bhaktas call and call you?

Where did you learn to stage this long drama,

O Rāma, why go to such a bother?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

223

Ētāvunarā nilakada nīku Kalyāṇi rāga Dēśādi tāla

P. Where do you reside?

your abode is located

—where?

When I stop to look

and come to think of it

I can’t seem to find you

You don’t seem to appear

Where do you reside?

your abode is located

—where?

A. Are you in the forms

of women, such as Sītā

Pārvatī, or Sarasvatī, Lord?

C. In earth water sun wind sky

or in the megagalaxies...

In Brahmā, Śiva, Viṣṇu...

Tyāgarāja gently tosses

flower offerings

O bestower of bounty

But where do you reside?

your abode is located

—where?

I can’t seem to find you

You don’t seem to appear

224

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Ēvaramadugudurā Kalyāṇī rāga Rūpaka tāḷa

P. What boon

should I ask you for, Śrī Rāma

A. Except for the worship of your holy feet—

what's left for me to ask for?

The way is now left bare—

Lord, come here!

C.1. O Raghuvara! The world is in your hand!

Doing whatever tasks your heart desires,

Vowing not to quit, come what may,

Holding your feet in his heart,

Without attachments—this way

has become Hanumān's personal thing

C.2 Deep cloud-blue Lord! The beauty and pleasure

of looking after Thy comforts

and seeing to the needs of all your devotees

—this now comes under the jurisdiction

of your youthful brother, Śatrughna

What's left for me to ask you for? Śrī Rāma

C.3. Remembering the Name, listening to your glories

seeking after and never forgetting

your holy footprints on the earth—

Lotus-eyed Lord, good and great—

this heart-melting love-elixir

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

225

has become your brother Bharata's property

C.4. Following the way of your will all the time

giving up sleeping, and eating faultlessly,

Laksmaṇa, the companion who adorns you,

has won as his right, the good fortune

of serving you—so what can I ask for?

C.5. O Hari! Holder of arrows! Seeing you

always in the shelter of her heart,

forgetting delusions, and losing desires

through love of you, Lord, rider of Garuḍa,

Sītā now has the privilege and joy

of realizing 'I am one with him';

What boon is there left for me?

C.6. I will not ask, in this birth,

for the many pleasures to be found

in this world, nor for the post of Indra,

O moonface God ever on the mind

of Tyāgarāja, devotion's royal road

is indeed the greatest gain,

So what boon should I ask for

Except worship of your holy feet

Otherwise, the way is left bare—

Lord, come here

226

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Evarimāṭa vinnāvō Kāmbhojī rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. To whose advice have you turned your ear?

Won't you come to me here?

Aren't you there? Well, well, well ...

A. Having studied the revelations

and inspired books of this earth,

I'm still stumped by one puzzle

my dear sir: to whose advice

have you turned your ear?

Won't you come to me here?

Aren't you there? Well, well, well ...

C. ‘I am dependent on my devotees—'

or so you said to great bhāgavatas

when you took your incarnations.

And I believed these words were true.

“The omnipotent Supreme Being—

That's you!' I sighed

with jubilation ... O Lord

adored by Tyāgarāja; as a good man,

a man who told the truth here,

that's how I thought of you;

Just whose words then, have you heard?

Won't you come to me here? or

aren't you there? Well, well, well ...

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

227

Gatamohā śrntapālādbhuta Śaṅkarābharaṇam rāga Rūpaka tāla

P. O Lord free from delusion

Shelter of the surrendered

Wonderful lover of Sītā!

A. You live in the hearts of

the lotus-born Brahmā, and Śiva

You are worshipped by deathless

celestials

C. You enable us to cross

the ocean of existence

You are the guardian of sacrifices

You wipe out the rebirth demon

Garuda is your vehicle, O Rāghava

Your feet are worshipped by sages

Millions of stories about you

are told with praise;

O destroyer of the differences

of creed among people!

You, with the arrows shining

in your hand! Sun who vanquishes

the darkness of evil! Virtuous Lord

your face is like a lotus!

Ocean of mercy! Rescuer of the

great elephant who took refuge,

Doer of good to those who bow to you,

protector of Tyāgarāja!

O Lord free from delusion, shelter of

the surrendered, wonderful lover of Sītā!

228

TYĀGARĀJA - LIFE AND LYRICS

Giripai nelakonna Śahāna rāga Ādi tāla

P. On the hilltop sat Lord Rāma

there is no mistaking this

A. His entourage waved blossom-whisks

making their prayer-offerings

On the hilltop sat Lord Rāma

there is no mistaking this

C. I was thrilled with ecstasy

tears of bliss welling up

He could see I wished to speak,

but knew my inner turmoil

So he said: ‘In ten days

I’ll take care of you’.

The very Lord whom Tyāgarāja adores

On the hilltop sat—

Lord Rāma—I saw this wonder—

There is no mistaking this!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

229

GītārthamU Suraṭi rāga Dēśādi tāla

P. For the sense of the song and the joy

of the music, look here, O my mind!

A. Look to the wind-god's son—Hanumān

holding the lotus feet of Rāma

Knowing well the song's meaning

and the music's ānanda

C He knows the secrets of religious creeds

and he knows Viṣṇu, Śiva, Sun and Time

as well as the karma caused by former deeds;

This finest form of a monkey

whom Indra worships

Gives boons to Tyāgarāja, and is

always in a state of bliss;

So, for a deep understanding of song

and the taste of music's ānanda

look, O my mind, to him!

230 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Grababalamēmi Śrī Rāmānugraha Rēvagupti rāga Dēśādi tāla

P. What power do planets have?

the strength of Śrī Rāma's blessing

—that's the real force!

A. For people meditating

on the form of the Lord full of splendour

what is the nine planets' power?

C. The ill-starred pains, the quadruple sins,

ego, desire, and the other foes

are destroyed by the Lord

Whom Tyāgarāja and other nectar-drinkers adore

so what can planets do?

Being blessed by Śrī Rāma

—that alone is the real force!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

231

Gurulēka yeṭuvaṇṭi Gaurimanōhari rāga Jhampa tāla

P. Without a guru

—no matter how virtuous

a person may be—

it is impossible to know

A. How to cut through the wilderness

thick with harsh heartsickness—

Without a guru

—no matter how virtuous

a person may be—

it is impossible to know how

C. Body, sons, wealth, wives, first cousins

and other kin, having come into existence

scatter grief;

The protector giving guidance

full of divine wisdom

is the medicine mercifully keeping

the mind from becoming attached—

Without that guru, (who is the well-wisher

of Tyāgarāja,) no matter how virtuous

a person may be—

it is impossible to know how

to cut through the wilderness

thick with harsh heartsickness—

232

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Heccarikagā rārā Yadukulakāmbhōji rāga Jhampa tāḷa

P Announcing his majesty! King

Rāmacandra, ocean of excellences!

Welcome to your court, Lord Rāma, welcome!

A. Father of the love god who bends

a sugar-cane bow, Indra's protector

Hail! Rāmacandra, ocean of excellences

Welcome to your court, Lord Rāma, welcome!

C.1. Seeing you in your dazzling crown of gold

dangling earrings sparkling enchantingly

your jingling pair of lovely anklets

Sanaka and other seers stand lost in ecstasy

Greetings, Rāmacandra, ocean of excellences;

welcome to your adoring court!

C.2. Ropes of pearls shine on your chest,

Brahmā on one side of you, and Indra

on the other, singing praise ... Slowly

on the jewel-studded steps, listening

to the singing strings of the vīṇā

moving in festive delight, you arrive

O Lord Rāmacandra, ocean of excellences;

C.3. Coming to see you, your sister holds a parrot

which sings your glories so delightful to the mind;

the celestials shower plenty of flowers

so that Tyāgarāja sees you beauty-drenched

Announcing Lord Rāmacandra, ocean of excellences;

Hail, King Rāma, welcome to your court!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION 233

Idē bhāgyamu Kānnaḍa rāga Tripuṭa tāḷa

P This is good fortune—the best

What else could compare with this?

A. To always serve harmoniously

at your lotus feet

C.1. Cutting completely desire and attachment

Pacifying the mind, leaving off ritualism

Worshipping you as the ocean of mercy

The body has no grief from bad company

Lakṣmī’s Lord, God of gods, adored by Śiva;

To have the kind of bhakti felt by your monkeys

This is good fortune—the best

What else could compare with this?

C.2 Beautiful son of Daśaratha, after placing you

Inside one’s lotus heart, experiencing

for oneself the vast divine ānanda, realizing

whoever one sees: moonwearer Śiva, the gods

and brahmins—all are you! Tasting this bliss

This is good fortune—the best

What else could compare with this?

C.3. Considering you, Lord reclining on the cosmic serpent

as the only refuge to help one cross the sea

of existence with all its desires, vigilant Lord

protector of sacrifices, Hanumān’s benefactor,

Lord adored by yogis, praised by the scriptures,

For the bhāgavata Tyāgarāja

This is good fortune—the best

What else could ever compare with this?

Idi samayamura Chāyānāta rāga Ādi tāla

P. Isn't this the time, O star of the solar line

A. Elephant-gaited one, Lord who puts down the madness

of the Kali age—to make what you said come true—

Isn't this the time, O star of the solar line?

C. The spirit of the Kali Yuga came in person;

He figured he would stage a drama—

O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja—

using humans as goats in a sacrifice of perverse cults

Now isn't this the time to show your mercy

Brightest star of the solar line?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

235

Inta saukyamani Kāpi rāga Ādi tāla

P. Such great happiness—I cannot describe!

So much of it! And just what it is—

who can know?

A. Master, beloved of Sītā, those who love you know

Such great happiness—I cannot describe!

So much of it! And just what it is—

who else can know?

C. Mixing a recipe for sugar candy

Made of Rāma's sacred name, and the juice

of the nectar notes, melody and rhythms,

Śiva relishing this sweetness knows

Such great happiness—I cannot describe!

So much of it! And just what it is—

who else can know,

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja?

236 TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Intakanna ānandamemi Bilahari rāga Rūpaka tāla

P. What joy could there be beyond this ecstasy, O Rāma,

Rāma

A. When there is unanimity in the meeting of devotees—

Could there be any bliss greater than this, O Rāma, Rāma

C.1. In devotion they dance, they sing tunefully

Praying that the Lord will appear before them!

It is enough to merge one's mind in him—

What joy could there be beyond this ecstasy, O Rāma,

Rāma

C.2. When one says 'I’m He!'-forgetting the body

With its cluster of senses, singing God's glories

What happiness could surpass this bliss, Rāma, Rāma

C.3. Whenever I murmur again and again your name

These worlds seem to shine with your presence

O prince whose story is praised by Tyāgarāja

Whay joy could there be beyond this ecstasy, O Rāma,

Rāma

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

237

Jagadānandakāraka Nāṭa rāga Ādi tāla

P. O Cause of the cosmos' rejoicing, we cheer your victory—

Jai! O Life-breath of Sītā!

A. Noble son of the solar race, Lord of emperors,

Ocean of virtues, worshipped by the celestial beings,

Bestower of auspicious fruits,

Always and everywhere the cause of the cosmos' bliss

We cheer your victory, Life-breath of Sītā—Jai!

C.1. You are like the single moon among the deathless stars

Completely faultless Lord, celestial wish-fulfilling tree;

Thief of milkpots full of curd, dazzling-faced Lord,

your voice is made of nectar! Cowherd of the multitude,

You are the one of perfect ānanda! Consort of Lakṣmī,

ever youthful one, you're the doer of good to your people

O Cause of the cosmos' rejoicing, we cheer your victory—

Jai! O Life-breath of Sītā!

C.2. You nourish with the nectar of the lotus of the Veda

You are the wind dispersing clouds of the unblinking gods' foes

Your mount is the sky-goer Garuḍa, the heart of true poets

is your home

Monkey chiefs without number bow and serve at your feet

O Cause of all the cosmos' bliss, we acclaim your triumph!

Jai! O Sītā's very Life-breath!

C.3. Your body glows like a sapphire-blue jewel, moon and sun

Are your eyes, Immeasurable Father of the creator who is

The king of speech; Lord of the whole cosmos, Radiant One

Reclining on the cosmic serpent Ādiśēṣa, truly praised

By Śiva who slew death—O Cause of the cosmos' bliss

We acclaim your triumph, Jai! O Sītā's Life-breath!

C.4. You are the Lord of Ahalyā—your foot dispelled

the ṛṣi's curse;

Protector of sacrifices, you received noble mantras

From Viśvamitra joyfully, your supreme mind is serene;

Lord of Sītā, Lord Brahmā's boon-bestower—all the worlds

Are blessed out by your presence! We cheer your mastery!

Jai! O Sītā's Life-breath!

C.5. You are the Cause of creation, preservation, annihilation,

You fulfill countless desires, your form is unique;

Indra ever praises you, you put down the ocean's pride

Noble hero, essence of the epic, shining with music

And divine love, you are the cause of cosmic bliss!

We exult in your mastery! Jai! Life-breath of Sītā!

C.6. You are the moon ascending from the sea of good peoples'

minds; you drive the flower-chariot through the skies;

Hanumān the demoness-slayer, with lotus hands caresses

Your feet; you destroyed the pride of the crowd of titans

Who had vicious natures, Immortal One, the creator praises you

Cause of cosmic bliss, we rejoice in your Victory:

Jai! Sītā's Soul!

C.7. O Parrot in the cage of OM: Śiva, Brahmā, Viṣṇu incarnate;

You put an end to Rāvaṇa, father of Indrajit;

You are the friend of Śiva who wears the crescent moon;

Compassionate Refuge protecting the people, dwelling

In the hearts of the good, Lord never changing

Truly the Essence of the Vedas,

you are the cause of cosmic joy, Jai!

C.8. A quiver of arrows in your hand, you quelled the titans' pride

You protect the gods and are the priestly caste's delight

Your life-story was composed by the art-hill sage, Vālmīki,

That sun among poets, and it is rightly praised

O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja, cause of cosmic bliss

Jai! Hail to you, Janakī's Life-breath!

C.9. Primordial Person, Prince, approachable by those who love you

Destroyer of demons—Khara, Virādha and Rāvaṇa

The pure sage Parasurama was bewildered by your glory

O Lord without a change, adored by Tyāgarāja

Cause of the cosmos' bliss! Jai! Sītā's Life-breath!

C.10. O Man of many qualities, wearing golden clothes,

one of your arrows pierced seven trees;

Your feet are as red as the driver of the sun's chariot;

Your glory cannot be fathomed, you live in the hearts

of real poets, O Friend wishing well the many gods

and sages, Consort of Lakṣmī the ocean-born! Lion

to the elephant of sin! Adored by Tyāgarāja

and others, Bliss-giver to the worlds, we cheer, Jai!

For your victory, Jai! Life-breath of Janakī!

240

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Kaddanuvārki Tōḍi rāga Ādi tāla

P. Today have the words of the wise

which harp to believers ‘God exists! He is!’

Have those words become lies?

A. Why don’t you come near me, illumine my mind’s eye

with your kissable mirror-smooth cheeks—why

Today have the words of the wise

which harp to believers ‘God exists! He is!’

Have those words become lies?

C. You are the compassionate Lord who provides

protection to votaries who ever faithfully

give up their sleep, take up the tambūra,

and, strumming it charmingly, sing with a pure mind

melodiously, O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja—or

Today have the words of the wise

which harp to believers ‘God exists! He is!’

Have those words become lies?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

241

Kaḷala nērcina minu Dīpaka rāga Deśādi tāḷa

P. What does it really matter if a person

learns all the sixty-four arts,

when whatever is going to be is determined

by the fruits of past acts?

A. You are the only cause of poverty

and wealth—have mercy on me!

If for the sake of the belly

one learns all the sixty-four arts

still, whatever is going to be

is governed by the fruits of past acts!

C. The sage Singari took greedily

the gifted mound of sesame—

but was he able to eat it in peace?

Could Rāvaṇa's brother Vibhīṣana

take home the golden image of Raṅganātha

O amiable Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

What does it really matter if a person

learns all the sixty-four arts,

when whatever is going to be is determined

by the fruits of past acts!

242

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Kanakana rucirā Varāḷi rāga Ādi tāḷa

P The more I gaze on you in your golden clothes

The more your magnificent glory grows!

A. Day after day in my mind with love I gaze upon you

And the more I gaze at you, in your golden clothes

Thi⁂ more magnificent your glory grows!

C.1. The milky softness in your face—the endless

glory of Lakṣmī—glows

And looking and looking, seeing ever more splendour

I stare at you in your golden clothes ...

C.2. Sītā with her bright face smiling

Flashes a sidelong glance at you shyly

And the more she looks at you in your golden clothes

The more your magnificent glory grows and grows ...

C.3. You are attired in the golden brightness

of the young sun rising;

Your neck is decorated with jewel-necklaces,

Your eyes are shaped like lotus petals, you have fine cheeks

And you wear a refulgent crown ... all the time

with my whole heart gazing on you in your golden clothes

the more I gaze, the greater your glory grows ...

C.4. Did Dhruva, meditating on the Lord when he was unable to bear the arrow-like words of his step-mother Suruci which pierced his ears, did that Dhruva not find joy? Even so do I: the more I gaze on you in your golden clothes the more your magnificent glory grows!

C.5. O Lord with your musk-mark adorning your forehead You gave the fruit of liberation to noble Jaṭāyu— When the wind's son, Hanumān, described your glory to Sītā Knowing it well, she was dazed with love's deep longing, wasn't she? In the same way, the more I gaze on you in your golden clothes the more your magnificent glory seems to grow ...

C.6. O Source of happiness! Wind scattering clouds of those Who've turned from the divine, Resident in the minds Of liberated beings, Wish-fulfilling Tree of your devotees Your qualities are all exemplary, bliss is your form, Garuḍa is your vehicle, O Lord who holds the cakra, Supreme ocean of mercy, Ocean of karuṇa rasa, Dispeller of fright, Śrī Raghupati, the more I gaze on you in your golden clothes the more your glory grows!

C.7. Your votary who clasps your lotus feet in his hands,

Filled with ardent love, is witness—

He whose abode is Kailāsa, who relishes the name Rāma—

He is witness; and Nārada, Parāśara, Śuka, Saunaka,

Indra, Pārvatī, Sītā, the other great ones—

aren't they witnesses too? O Lord of beauty,

You dwell in the ocean of joy, and to these devotees

gazing and gazing on you in your golden clothes

the more your magnificent glory grows

C.8. Forever Tyāgarāja worships you, full of love for you;

Your face far surpasses the moon in its splendour—

O boon-bestower, the more I gaze and gaze

on you in your golden clothes

the greater indeed your glory grows!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

245

Kanugontini Śrī Rāmuni Bilahari rāga Dēśādi tāla

P. I gazed upon Śrī Rāma today

A. Who was happily born to the solar race—

Sita's beloved, on earth, today

I gazed upon Śrī Rāma today

C His brothers, Bharata, Lakṣmaṇa

And Śatrughna and other kin

Were all present, serving him ...

Hanumān, the wind-god's son

Held the Lord's feet in his hands ...

The brave Sugrīva and other great leaders

Were worshipping the Lord

Whom Tyāgarāja adores—today!

I found Śrī Rāma, held him in my gaze

17

246

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Kaṭṭu jēsināvō Athāna rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. You've tied me up

with the rope of Rāma's name

A. Should I ever want

to join other gods' faiths

which so boundlessly abound

You've already got me bound up

with the 'Rāma'-bond

C. If I say 'The Grand Father,

the creator Brahmā

Has not written our faiths

on our foreheads, so we're free

to choose for ourselves,

You will say 'Those other faiths

foster lust and arrogance,'

Or so it seems to the desireless

Tyāgarāja—because you've bound me

with the name-of-Rāma bond ...

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

247

Koluvamaregadā Tōḍi rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. Aren't you well-enshrined

holding court here

Archer-king divine

A. Are you any more accessible

to four-headed Brahmā

To the Goddess of speech,

to Rukmiṇī, Krishna's queen,

To Pārvatī, to Sītā

or to Lakṣmaṇa? Holding court here

divine archer-king,

aren't you well enshrined?

C.1. In the pre-dawn hours

taking up the golden tambūra

Singing harmoniously your glories,

I would feed you milk

till you are filled! O good Lord—

Tree by which the sheltered's

wishes are fulfilled ...

aren't you well-enshrined?

C.2. Do you hear how at noontide

having lovingly bathed my Lord

in rosewater, and

having served sacred dishes

to my great Lord, offering

sweet-scented pan leaves

betel nut and lime, I would worship

you Lord unswervingly all the time

... aren't you well-enshrined?

C.3. The bhāgavatars, having assembled,

after offering

great elaborate melodies,

and simpler delicate ones

along with the waving of the flame

Quickly lay Lord Hari

on a petal-bed to sleep

with lulling lullabies

Then Tyāgarāja would sing

the song of awakening

to the sweet-faced Lord

Aren't you well-enshrined,

holding court here,

Archer-king divine?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

249

Kōṭinadulu dhanuśkōṭilō Tōḍi rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. When ten million rivers

shiver on the tip

Of Rāma’s bow, why O mind,

do you wander and roam?

A. To great souls always gazing

on the cloud-blue beautiful Lord

with unswerving aim, seeing

The ten million rivers

shivering on the mere tip

Of Rāma’s bow, why O my mind,

do you wander and roam?

C. Since the Gaṅgā was born

from his jingling anklets

And the Kāverī glistens

upon seeing Śrī Raṅga

—please hear this request

of Tyāgarāja

who praises Rāma—

Since ten million rivers

quiver on Rāma’s bow tip

Why O my mind,

are you wandering and roving?

to my great Lord, offering

sweet-scented pan leaves

betel nut and lime, I would worship

250

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Ksīrasāgara śayana Devagāndhārī rāga Ādi tāla

P. O Lord in repose on your milky sea

Why should you bring worries to me, O Rāma

A. I've heard all about the time you hurried

To save Gajendra the elephant from his enemy

O Lord in repose on your milky sea

Why should you make me worry? O Rāma!

C. I've heard that long ago you gave

A sari to a jewel of a lady;

I've heard of brave Rāmadās being imprisoned

And of how you set him free;

I've heard you celebrated for crossing

The ocean for Sītā whose eyes are so lovely

—O Lord whose name enables souls to cross

Life's sea—Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

With your mercy, please master me, O Rāma,

O Lord in repose on your milky sea

Why should you make me worry? O Rāma!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

251

Mahitapravṛddha Kāmbhōji rāga Cāpu tāla

P. O honoured and powerful

beautiful–auspicious

Mother of Skanda and Gaṇeśa

A. Your face outshines

that holder of nectar—

the moon! Good-fortune giver

be my protector! Treasury

of every virtue

please protect me

O honoured and powerful

beautiful–auspicious

Mother of Skanda and Gaṇeśa

C.1. The universe is your body,

grant me loving devotion

to your holy feet;

giver of auspicious fruits,

daughter of Himālaya,

natural sister of Rāma

O honoured and powerful

beautiful–auspicious

Mother of Skanda and Ganeśa

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TYĀGARĀJA - LIFE AND LYRICS

C.2 Varuṇa bows to you

most beloved of the Lord

adored with strange snakes

O peacock who is the foe

of the serpent of worldly life;

C.3 Beloved of Śiva—to whom

Arjuna bowed to win

paśupatāstra, the magic weapon

Bestower of the fruits

of the objects most desired

You abide in the city

where Pārvatī performed tapas

C.4 All three—Śiva, Brahmā

and Viṣṇu bow to you

with your eyes like lotus petals

you give great gladness

to Tyāgarāja!

O honoured and powerful

beautiful-auspicious

Mother of Skanda and Gaṇeśa

Please be our protector!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

253

Mā Jānakī Kāmabhōji rāga Dēśādi tāla

P. Because you took hold of Jānakī’s hand

you became a Maharaja!

A. O king of kings, most excellent

lotus-eyed Lord, listen!

Your fame is radiant, and you’re known,

as the one who killed Rāvaṇa—

Because you took hold of Jānakī’s hand

you became a Maharaja!

C. She, when along with you in the forest

not overstepping your command

Took an illusory form, while remaining

herself in the fire, the illusory form

went along with the demon ...

Seated under the Aśoka tree, growing enraged

at his words, didn’t she kill him

with her piercing stare, O great hero?

So, didn’t she bring you fame?

O saviour of Tyāgarāja,

Because you took hold of Jānakī’s hand

you became a Maharaja!

254

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Māmava satatam Jaganmohinī rāga Ādī tāla

P. Lord of the Raghus, always protect me!

A. Glorious moon of the solar race ocean

Giver of auspicious fruit to the devoted

Fullness of all that is most excellent

Lord of the Raghus, always protect me!

C. You are quite distant from the professors

of the śāstras if they have no bhakti!

Your eyes, O prince, are like the lotus petals

Your abode is the heart of the son of Śakti

Hero of the Raghus, changeless tranquillity

Lord whose words are ever fitting, you are firm

as Meru, mountain of gold, your couch is

the cosmic serpent! Attended by a retinue

of sages, profound one, you transcend delusion

and desires and lust! You are the breeze

scattering the foe-clouds of Tyāgarāja

Lord of the Raghus, always protect me!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

255

Manasā manasāmarthyamēmi Vardhanī rāga Rūpaka tāḷa

P. O mind, what's the use of our cleverness?

A. Listen! The Lord of Ayodhya,

mounting the chariot which this universe is

Guides it himself, with his real cleverness

O mind, what's the use of our cleverness?

C. In days gone by, casting his net of illusion

on Kaikeyī, he caused her to give her jewels

quickly hearing the words announcing Vasiṣṭha

and others were going to crown Rāma

and he cast his net of illusion on Sugrīva

who often said: 'These worlds are false'.

Didn't the Lord, Tyāgarāja's boon-giver,

proceed in his own way?

O mind, what's the use of our cleverness?

256

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Manasā Śrī RāmacandrunI ĪśamanoharI rāga ĀdI tāla

P O mind, never forget Śrī Rāmacandra—

Do not be negligent!

A. Take a look at the third and sixth chapters

of the book of Rāma's boyhood

Composed long ago by the anthill-born sage

O mind, never forget Śrī Rāmacandra

Do not be negligent!

C. He considered the tasks of creating, maintaining

and doing away with the universe

beneath him, so he delegated them to the trinity,

but he enjoys the satisfaction

he gets from giving his true bhakta

what his heart desires, so, mind of Tyāgarāja

never forget Śrī Rāmacandra! Do not be neglectful!

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

257

Manasu svādhīnamaina Śaṅkarābharaṇam rāga Rūpaka tāḷa

P. For the glorious soul who has mind control

Where is the need for mantric and tantric lore?

A. For one who knows full well the body is not oneself

What's the use of doing tapas, son of Daśaratha?

For the glorious soul who has mind control

Where is the need for mantric and tantric lore?

C.1. For the one aware that all is really you

What's the point of differentiation

into life's quadruple stations?

C.2. How can one with insight into the blindfold of māyā

Be dazzled by women, O son of Daśaratha

C.3. For one who from birth was not swayed by sensations

Will there be a danger of reincarnations?

O Lord of emperors, immaculate, peerless one,

With your moonlike countenance,

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

For the glorious soul who has mind-control

Where is the need for mantric and tantric lore?

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TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Manasu viṣaya Nāṭakurañji rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. If the mind is thrown away on pleasures,

dancing women and carousers

Will it have a way to find

our Rāma's mercy, O my mind?

A It's like unhinging your front door

so you can loan it to your neighbour

Then having to stay in to drive

the dogs away—isn't it? If the mind

is thrown away on pleasures,

dancing women and carousers

Will it have a way to find

our Rāma's mercy, O my mind?

C. It is like an adulteress

who turns her tricks for husks of rice

While some sly monkey lugs

off her solid brass jug, isn't it?

It's like giving good advice

to a deaf person, isn't it?

Instead of reflecting on the Lord

adored by Tyāgarāja,

if the mind is thrown away on pleasures,

dancing women and carousers

Will it have a way to find

our Rāma's mercy, O my mind?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

259

Mari mari ninnē Kāmbhōji rāga Ādi tāla

P. Over and over I cry to you

but your heart feelsno mercy for me—

A. You went fast enough when the threatened elephant’s

pleas reached your ears—O inner soul

of each and all—please tell me your reason—

Over and over I cry to you

but your mind shows no pity toward me—

C. I heard the story, sir, of how you appeared

`with compassion before Dhruva;

What was the idea behind your becoming the man-lion

for the son of Hiraṇyakāṣipu?

Sir, won’t you reveal to me your glory?

the way you saved the forgetful Sugrīva?

Lord adored by Tyāgarāja in this world!

This is unbearable now—I won’t listen

to any excuses—over and over I cry

to you only, but your heart’s pity

won’t budge toward me

260

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Mōksamu galadā Sāramati rāga Dēśādi tāḷa

P. On this earth can there be mokṣa

for those who are not jīvanmuktas?

A. To those with no genuine bhakti

or wisdom of the depths of music

O Lord who appears before me

On this earth can there be mokṣa

for those who are not jīvanmuktas?

C. The Life force prāṇa and fire in combination

manifest the vibration of OM

in the form of the seven tones;

O Lord adored by Tyāgarāja

for those who don't know

The consciousness of Śiva Dakṣiṇamūrti,

fond of playing on the vīṇā

On this earth can there be liberation

for those who have not found realization?

THE LYRICS IN TRANSLATION

261

Nadaci nadaci Kharaharapriya rāga Ādi tāḷa

P. Walking and walking,

they looked for the city of Ayodhya

but they could not find it

A. To meet the companion of the Earth's daughter,

the shining, complete being

Rāma, the delight of the soul

They trudged along...

Walking and walking... they looked

for the city of Ayodhya

but they could not find it

C Closing their eyes

in seeming meditation

and opening them,

they clasped the sacred thread

as a disguise for appearance sake

Without knowing the mystical kingdom

beyond birth and death

they praised the Lord

adored by Tyāgarāja

Trudging forever, walking on, they sought

the kingdom of Ayodhya

but they could not find it

18

262

TYĀGARĀJA-LIFE AND LYRICS

Nāda sudhārasambilanu Ārabhi rāga Rūpaka tāla

P. The nectar flavour of musical sound

took shape as a person on this earth

O mind!

A. The basis of the Vedas,

the purāṇas, traditional scriptures

and the śāstras

The nectar flavour of musical sound

took shape as a person on this earth

O mind!

C. The six-plus-one tones are his bow's bells;

the noble melody—the rāga—is his bow;

The three kinds of rāgas: heavy, delicate,

and regional, are his bow's three-strand string;

the rhythm of the syllables

make up his arrows

And all the delectable variations on the theme

are his words, just right for each situation

It is our great good fortune

to worship with song itself

that form of the Lord adored

by Tyāgarāja in this world

That nectar flavour of musical sound

which took shape as a person on earth

O mind!