MS

My earliest memories of M S Subbulaksmi are of concerts at RR Sabha back in the late fifties, when I, Carnatic music ignoramus though I was, could not help being mesmerised by her glorious voice, especially her tremendous reach in the higher registers. She was relatively young, and her voice was still evolving into the majestic form it achieved in her mature years.
The first time I saw her at close quarters was some ten years later at Vasant Vihar, the Greenways Road home of the Krishnamurti Foundation. It was at a mellow, meditative concert for the benefit of Jiddu Krishnamurti, and the fortunate few who had gathered there were able to catch a glimpse of greatness up close. Like everyone who has come into contact with MS, I was struck by her simplicity. Equally striking was the beauty, vivacity and humour of her brilliant vocal accompanist, Radha Viswanathan.

My next memory of MS is from a cutcheri at the University Centenary auditorium in 1969. I was seated next to the girl who was to become my wife soon afterwards and her mother, though none of us knew it then. By sheer fluke, I guessed a raga right—it was a close shave, because I debated between two choices, and mentally tossed a coin before stumbling on the right answer—and that must have impressed my companions.

Gowri and I were married not long afterwards, and that is what brought me into the privileged circle of those fortunate enough to know MS on a personal level. It was a fantastic experience to listen to her music in a private ambience, without instrumental accompaniment or amplification. Amazingly, during home visits or at the oonjal at weddings, she would happily sing alone or lead a chorus with no concern for the level of accomplishment of her accompanists. On rare occasions, I heard both MS and Semmangudi in such intimate gatherings. This is a blessing that I have enjoyed, along with other members of my family, as long as they both lived..

One unforgettable experience was listening to MS at the grihapravesam of our present home in 1993, when she sang sitting on the rough floor of a house still-under construction. She was in magnificent voice and the whole room was surcharged with emotion as her sonorous tones filled the place with an aura of sheer devotion. My thoughts were full of my father who had passed away months earlier, and it was a rare moment of sublimation such as I had never experienced before.

In the early days of our marriage, Gowri frequently nudged me to compliment ‘Kunjakka’ at the end of her concerts. Naturally, it took me a long time to gather the courage to do that—imagine walking up to a legend of our times and appreciating her performance. When I actually did it the first time, her acceptance of the compliment was so spontaneous and genuine that it was difficult to believe I was talking to someone of her eminence.

In the last decade of her concert career, when poor health prevented the peerless Radha from providing her vocal accompaniment, Gowri had the honour of assisting her. While both of us considered it a proud privilege, as anyone in our position would have, MS never failed to thank me whenever I met her, for “allowing Gowri to help her”. Though we found it extremely embarrassing, we were also touched by her concern for us and her extraordinary humility. To seek and receive blessings from MS and Thatha (Mr Sadasivam) on those occasions was to pause from the frenetic pace of our lives and experience a great sense of peace and calm.