The date was 27 October 2013. Though three years have elapsed, my memory of that day is fresh. This was the last day of Navotsavam – a music festival of nine days, which the Organization I was a part of was sponsoring.
The festival had several luminaries like Sivamani, Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt , violinist Dr L Subramaniam and gana gandharva Dr Mangalampalli Balamuralikrishna performing,
From our Organization, we were taking turns to felicitate these musical geniuses and I was lucky that my tryst was with a legend.
The first performance was that of Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt. The man who is credited with inventing the Mohan Veena, he belongs to the rarefied field of Grammy Award winners from India.
On that day, in Chennai, this man chose to play his Grammy Composition, enthralling the audience with pristine, soul stirring music. On any other day, in any other venue, this would have been the show stopper, the piece de resistance but, it was not to be.
When Pandit Bhatt’s performance ended, the applause was thunderous. No one will ever know whether it was in appreciation of his dexterity with the Veena or with the impending arrival of Dr Mangalampalli Balamuralikrishna - Dr MBM.
Longevity is relative. Greatness could be a decade of success in sports, a few decades of success in movies, a generation for a product.
But, what would you call a longevity that spans 80 years? A miracle?
Dr MBM had started singing at the age of 6, performed in public at the age of eight and was known as a prodigy at the age of 15. .
On that day, at a venerable age of 83, there he was – doing what he was best at. Bridging the gap between the audience and its divinity through the medium of music.
Whoever has ever heard Dr MBM sing Thyagaraja Krithis like Jagadananda Karaka or Endaro Mahanibhavulu would have experienced a journey towards the cosmos, a journey into a world of spiritual bliss.
But, on that day, Dr MBM as is his wont, demonstrated his repertoire. No, he did not sing his favourites. Instead he chose to sing relatively unknown songs.
It was like Federer eschewing the “whip of the maestro” his forehand and playing mostly with his backhand and still playing unbelievable tennis.
Similar was the beauty of Dr MBM’s greatness. The songs were not recognisable, but the genius, iridescent.
Sadly, the strain of 77 years of non stop singing seemed to be showing up. Where, a few years back, he would have sung effortlessly for hours together, on that day, the same vocal chords, possibly tired, forbid him from singing more.
The audience was left feeling empty, a sense of incompleteness pervaded the music hall. Possibly, it was a sign of the times to some.
When I got my chance to felicitate this legend, I thanked my stars.
As I honoured him with a shawl, sought his blessings and conveyed to him how happy I was to meet him, I felt privileged.
I could proudly say, I saw divinity from close. In flesh and blood.
In Dr MBM’s death, India has lost one of its great sons. A man who helped showcase the beauty of our Carnatic music culture, a man who played a pivotal role in passing on the baton of our culture across three generations.
As the world mourned his passing away, I felt grateful that I had met him at least once.
The festival had several luminaries like Sivamani, Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt , violinist Dr L Subramaniam and gana gandharva Dr Mangalampalli Balamuralikrishna performing,
From our Organization, we were taking turns to felicitate these musical geniuses and I was lucky that my tryst was with a legend.
The first performance was that of Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt. The man who is credited with inventing the Mohan Veena, he belongs to the rarefied field of Grammy Award winners from India.
On that day, in Chennai, this man chose to play his Grammy Composition, enthralling the audience with pristine, soul stirring music. On any other day, in any other venue, this would have been the show stopper, the piece de resistance but, it was not to be.
When Pandit Bhatt’s performance ended, the applause was thunderous. No one will ever know whether it was in appreciation of his dexterity with the Veena or with the impending arrival of Dr Mangalampalli Balamuralikrishna - Dr MBM.
Longevity is relative. Greatness could be a decade of success in sports, a few decades of success in movies, a generation for a product.
But, what would you call a longevity that spans 80 years? A miracle?
Dr MBM had started singing at the age of 6, performed in public at the age of eight and was known as a prodigy at the age of 15. .
On that day, at a venerable age of 83, there he was – doing what he was best at. Bridging the gap between the audience and its divinity through the medium of music.
Whoever has ever heard Dr MBM sing Thyagaraja Krithis like Jagadananda Karaka or Endaro Mahanibhavulu would have experienced a journey towards the cosmos, a journey into a world of spiritual bliss.
But, on that day, Dr MBM as is his wont, demonstrated his repertoire. No, he did not sing his favourites. Instead he chose to sing relatively unknown songs.
It was like Federer eschewing the “whip of the maestro” his forehand and playing mostly with his backhand and still playing unbelievable tennis.
Similar was the beauty of Dr MBM’s greatness. The songs were not recognisable, but the genius, iridescent.
Sadly, the strain of 77 years of non stop singing seemed to be showing up. Where, a few years back, he would have sung effortlessly for hours together, on that day, the same vocal chords, possibly tired, forbid him from singing more.
The audience was left feeling empty, a sense of incompleteness pervaded the music hall. Possibly, it was a sign of the times to some.
When I got my chance to felicitate this legend, I thanked my stars.
As I honoured him with a shawl, sought his blessings and conveyed to him how happy I was to meet him, I felt privileged.
I could proudly say, I saw divinity from close. In flesh and blood.
In Dr MBM’s death, India has lost one of its great sons. A man who helped showcase the beauty of our Carnatic music culture, a man who played a pivotal role in passing on the baton of our culture across three generations.
As the world mourned his passing away, I felt grateful that I had met him at least once.
