D.K. Pattammal: The Meeting that Never Was

Early every morning for a month last year, I pushed open a stubbornly creaky gate and walked passed her home. My steps slowed, stopped for a moment, and my eyes quickly scanned the verandah. Nothing stirred. The only sounds were the raucous caws of squabbling crows high on their treetops, and the muted hum of traffic from nearby Gandhi Mandapam Road. I walked on, up a narrow, curving flight of steps, rang the bell and entered a home that bustled with life and activity. 

Here lived a family, whose lineage seems almost too fantastic, too sublime, to be true. The gods of music could not have dreamed up a more exalted, distinguished, or glorious musical pedigree. The grande-dame of the family was D.K. Pattammal, one of Carnatic music’s most beloved icons. She lived downstairs, with her husband.  It was she whom I fervently hoped to glimpse every morning, on my way to my music lesson upstairs. The patriarch was Palghat Mani Iyer, a legendarily brilliant mridangist, whose name, more than a quarter of a century after his death, still inspires reverential awe. Pattammal’s son, Sivakumar, married Mani Iyer’s daughter, Lalitha. Lalitha and Sivakumar held their palms outstretched and received the priceless musical bounty that poured down from Pattammal and Mani Iyer. In a glorious alchemic act, their daughter, Nithyasree, was born with all her grandparents’ musical brilliance coursing through her veins.

Every morning, I studied music with Lalitha Sivakumar. It was a wonderful experience, made so much more special because of the precious weight of musical history that buttressed it. Lalitha was an excellent teacher, patient and thorough, and one of the few people in this world whom I instinctively appraised as a really good person. I know that that sounds vague and possibly even corny, but it was just what I felt, a gut instinct. She was genuinely fond of her mother-in-law who had warmly encouraged her musical efforts and career, and they enjoyed a relationship that would be the envy of most mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law.  Lalitha was simple and humble, and I mean it in a laudatory, good way, not in the disparaging way these words are sometimes used. How apt, that she should have been the daughter-in-law of Pattammal. Because whoever knew Pattammal would say this about her: she was a good person. She was simple, humble, sincere, gracious and dignified. And her music….ohhh, her music!

I grew up listening regularly to the great Trinity of lady singers: M.S. Subbulakshmi (MS), M.L. Vasantakumari (MLV) and D.K. Pattammal (DKP).  They were trailblazers, and I loved them all, equally but differently. MS, whose every concert was an unlikely but brilliant mix of glamour and devotion. MLV, who thrilled with her lightning-fast brigas and gamakas and incomparable renditions of Purandaradasar kritis. And DKP – to listen to her singing was to be caressed by charm and grace, to float on an ocean of mellow sound, to be cocooned in a warm blanket of serenity and repose, to be in a place where all the elements of music blended together into something utterly precious and unique. To experience a DKP concert was to feel the warm love of a grandmother’s lap, where all was beautiful and right with the world. But behind that sweet smile lay a steely resolve – to aim for the sky, to cut no corners, to meet and conquer any musical challenge. She sang thrillingly intricate ragam-tanam-pallavis that once and for all put to rest the idiotic notion that somehow this form was beyond the ken of women, that they were not strong enough, or intelligent enough, to do it justice.

Looking at her smiling face, who would think that this gentle lady was a groundbreaker, a trendsetter, a pioneer? Remember, she grew up during the nineteen twenties and thirties, when all a good Brahmin girl from a good family was supposed to aspire to was a good match with a good boy from another good Brahmin family. Good – in the case of the Brahmin girl – meant: obedient, docile, pious, modest – and invisible. She did not expose herself unnecessarily to the outside world, lest unwelcome, lascivious eyes fell on her. Her place was in the home, where her husband’s family provided for her while she cooked and took care of the family. And any girl who stepped out of this rigidly controlled world would most likely be sentenced with the worst punishment of all – the life of a spinster.

Luckily for us, Pattammal did not meekly accept this state of affairs.  She was too talented, for one.  Besides, trailblazers cannot blaze trails by themselves. They also need the right people around them, to push and stimulate, to help break down barriers, to give comfort when the going is rough, to never waver in their belief. Pattammal had these in good measure, from Ammukutty Ammal,  her school’s headmistress, who recognized the extraordinary talent of the little girl and pushed her to perform on the school’s stage (to the appalled horror of her family),  to Vai Mu Ko (Kothainayaki), a novelist and trailblazer herself, who fervently pushed the emancipation of Brahmin women, from Naina Pillai, whose musical influence shone throughout Pattamal’s career to Ambi Dikshithar (descendent of Muthuswami Dikshithar) whose stint at teaching her was cut short by his untimely death, to the great Tamil composer Papanasam Sivan, who looked upon her as a daughter, and taught her many of his lovely songs right as he composed them.

I learned some of those Papanasam Sivan songs from Lalitha, who had learned them from Pattammal.  Just a hop and a skip from where it originated – this awes me.

I never did see Pattammal on my visits to my music lessons. A few times, I almost gathered up the courage to ask, can I see Pattammal, seek her blessings? But I knew she was old and tired by then, and it did not feel right to barge in and break the peace of her morning. And now she is no more.  Pattammal passed away on July 16, at the age of 90. This meeting will never happen now.

I never met you in person, Pattammal, but every time I listen to your music, I see your tender, smiling face before me, almost as if I were sitting by your side. To me you will live for ever.  I will cherish those songs I learned, just a few feet away from you, like a precious treasure. May your soul rest in peace.

Kamini Dandapani

Some of the facts for this came from Sriram V.'s lovely book Carnatic Summer

Comments

[Raji Muthukrishnan]

A perfect tribute to the grande dame.

[Vidya]

What a lovely tribute! I remember one of my friends telling me that he would ask Dikshitar to wait his turn after Pattammal if the composer himself offered to sing the song. When I listen to her ShrI subrahmanyaya namaste accompanied by Mani Iyer it is sheer magic. And true there is a grandmotherly warmth in her music.

[gooddaysunshine]

Came here from Ra's blog. This was a beautiful tribute..

[flowergirl]

Lovely, Kamini. You're right , there was something affectionate and warm about her countenance and music.

[Shyam]

A lovely tribute.

[ra]

wow, that was so lovely and such an accurate description of her music!

[Aditi]

Great, touching account of her life/music. The gentle, humble writing style is congruous with Pattammal's kind nature. You should start writing some more biographical pieces.

[Abraham Tharakan]

Kamini, you write so well. Had I seen this earlier, I would not have attempted my blog post on Pattammal.

Long ago I used to have a LP record of Yehudi Menuhin, the great violinist introducing Palghat Mani Iyer. I used to play it so often. Perhaps the Sivakumars have a copy of it.

[Lakshman]

This is so beautifully written. You have captured Pattammal's gentle dignity with your words. This is the end of an era.

[Harini]

A great tribute to the last of the grande-dames of Carnatic Music.

[Kamini]

Raji, Vidya, Flowergirl, Shyam, Aditi & Harini: Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed reading this. You are right, Lakshman, with MS, MLV, DKP, and Brinda-Muktha all gone, this is the end of an era.
Gooddaysunshine: thanks for stopping by, and for your warm words.
Ra: Thanks so much! It was your lovely post that inspired me to write this.
Mr. Tharakan: I am honored. I very much enjoyed reading your post on DKP. Your LP record is priceless - I will ask the Sivakumars about it when I meet them next.

[Indrani]

Great tribute Kamini.
I was reading about her in papers, this post has so many details... so well written.

[E.R. Ramachandran]

Very nice touching tribute to the Grandma of Carnatic music. Her rendering of 'rangapura vihara in Brindavana Saranga will remain will be in the memory of rasika for ever. Thank you.

[Kalyan Raghavan]

Bravo! DKP's rendering of Dikshithar krithis and her Thiruppugazhs were the best.

[Kamini]

Indrani: Thank you very much. I am honored by your nice words!
E.R. Ramachandran: Thank you for stopping by and for your comment. Oh, yes, her Rangapura Vihara was divine!
Kalyan Raghavan: Thank you. There was such majesty in how she sang Dikshithar's kritis. Vidya left a very interesting comment earlier: "I remember one of my friends telling me that he would ask Dikshitar to wait his turn after Pattammal if the composer himself offered to sing the song."

[sapience]

Hi! i am reshu i want to give true tribute pattammal but its a bad
news that she is no more .its a great that you are sharing your views by the blog and really i felt pity for this story its a different one to the other. Well!done.

[meera]

Kamini,another excellent post like your post on Balamuralikrishna.

[raghu raman]

Sad you could not meet the legend.

[Kamini]

Sapience: Thanks, I'm glad you liked this.
Meera: Thanks. Happy you remembered the Balamurali one!
Raghu Raman: One more "might have been" that has crossed over into "never will be". Thanks for your comment.

[Sindhu Nair]

Love the new look too...and though I am not a huge carnatic fan...loved this tribute...

[varali]

Thank you for pointing me here - what a lovely piece this is.

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[Kamini]

Sindhu: Hopefully one day you will become a fan! I got rather fed up of the old look, and picked this design - glad you like it, and you are the only one to have commented on it!
Varali: Thanks so much. I love your writing, so your words mean a lot to me.

[Mitr-Friend]

Amazing... Absolutely Amazing... I am awe struck, to blog with a person who learnt from Lalitha maami, Pattammal maami's DIL. I am so happy for you... You're so lucky... Also, I am sad that you could never meet Pattammal Maami in person.
Nice to come across your blog... Thanks for dropping by My Travelogue. Do drop in often... Would love your comments and visits and followups.

[Mitr-Friend]

Guess you know tamizh too... If yes, do visit my other blog also. http://priyamanathozhi.blogspot.com/

[Kamini]

Mitr-Friend: Thanks for your comment. Yes, I do consider myself very fortunate to have studied from Lalitha maami. And thanks for the link to your blog, I will certainly check it out.

[sheba]

very well writte..you have so beautifully managed to capture the essence of the legent that was pattamal