Continued from here: Arrival
My first full day here! And so much to write about!
Woke up at 6.15, got ready and came down to the lobby to write. Sumati was still asleep, so I think this will be a good arrangement. I hope I can keep this up - writing the previous day’s events early in the morning. Gnanam’s morning music seems to be a nadaswaram cacophony that leads to Sabapathikku Veyra Deivam. I have to say though that my appreciation for this instrument has grown as I have grown (in years and size!).
Breakfast is buffet-style: sweet paniyarams (which I resisted successfully), papaya and pineapple, juices, idli, uppuma, pongal, uttappam, toast, cereals, tea and coffee. And a bowl of sprouted peanuts and sprouted moong dal. The sprouted peanuts were yum.
We met in the lobby at 10. Today was to be Balasaraswathi day. The plan was to go to the Brihadeeshwara temple and watch a video that Saskia had put together interspersing Satyajit Ray’s famous documentary on Bala with theoretical analyses of what it all meant, her growth and success from a very local stage (Thanjavur) to an urban one (Madras) to an Indian one (courtesy Uday Shankar??) to a global one where she moved to the US and taught at Wesleyan. For a woman steeped in a world whose ethos, pride and identity looked backwards to the past glory days of the Maratha emperors of Thanjavur, this was a stunning transformation, a brilliant adaptation of herself to whatever her environment demanded for success.
A gopuram of the Brihadeeshwara Temple
Took 3 autos to the temple. Have not seen it in this bright light - the carvings and sculptures stood out in sharp relief and the beauty popped out at you. We seated ourselves in a mandapam to the right, immediately after we entered the main premises. Opened our laptops and watched the incredible grace of Bala. And Saskia talked. I have to watch it again to fully digest everything she said. Inevitably we attracted a curious - and hugely amused - audience. We were their morning’s entertainment: 3 foreign ladies in sarees, the rest of us Indian to varying degrees, talking what was no doubt Important Stuff. They seated themselves in a row and watched us, fascinated. Every now and then they would burst into a loud discussion about what we might be doing - Class? Research? Seminar? These words were thrown around. I found it funny, but some of the others were disconcerted and distracted. Saskia was supposed to teach us to dance the Mukthayiswaram of a varnam, but that would have probably caused all of Thanjavur to land up and watch, so we left and found ourselves another spot for another day.
Back to Gnanam for lunch. I had the kadai paneer with phulka. It was very tasty but also very oily. I think I’ll stick to the south Indian food. The thali is superb. Kiran and Veshnu had it and it did look very good with a completely different selection of vegetables from yesterday.
A break, and then we set out for a Heritage Walk - on the Bala family trail. It was more of a treasure hunt with some of the treasures remaining stubbornly hidden, but the hunt was every bit a part of the experience. We were to meet a man who promised Saskia he would be her guide.
This was our “itinerary”:
We met at Divya Sweets, a short but life-endangering walk from our hotel. I have discovered the best way to cross the street when the stream of traffic comes at you without respite - stride into a sliver of a gap, hold both arms out to command the traffic to halt - and it does! Divya Sweets seems to be a local hangout serving greasy food day and night. There was a large crowd there but no sign of Saskia’s guide. A short phone call later, we found out that he wasn’t coming, that his written guide would be fine.
Our first destination: the home of Ponniah Pillai, one of the legendary Tanjore Quartet brothers. We found Nicolson Bank near which it was supposed to be and went down 3 impossibly narrow lanes that could barely accommodate us walking in single file. It was a mud-paved street with old homes along the sides, and below, on either side, a sluggish stream of what looked like sewage. Maybe it was just the dirty washing water. Nobody knew if indeed our lane was Ponniah Pillai lane - it had no name, or if his house stood there. No matter. It was enough to stand there and know he lived very near here, and that from these cramped, claustrophobic surroundings, he, with nothing more than incredible faith and talent, created beautiful music that moves and inspires dancers, musicians, and rasikas to this day. This was something that struck me repeatedly on this heritage walk and I will not repeat it. It is awe-inspiring, humbling and heartening that the human spirit and beauty can blossom anywhere.
Ponniah Pillai Lane??
The next one was easy. We were looking for a home off South Main Street where the composer Thyagaraja’s descendants live. We found the landmark, Veeraraghava School without problem, and the lane, Varagappa Iyer lane, had signs here and there. And there was the house. We rang the bell and a plump young woman holding an infant (8 generations from Thyagaraja!!) welcomed us, a bunch of strangers who just landed up on her doorstep.
The street where Thyagaraja's descendants live
A humble home, painted bright blue. Clearly they got visitors, because there were several signs that requested us to not take photos or videos and to put our mobile phones away. We sat in front of a shrine where there was a small (about 8 inches high?) shiny idol of Rama and Sita with Hanuman that was the one that Thyagaraja himself worshipped. The plump young woman (who has married into this family) lit a lamp. She told us that Thyagaraja’s daughter in law came from this house and went to live in Thiruvaiyaru with T and his son (I think). Upon his death, the idol was brought back to this house, and here it has remained. There is an uncle (who was away then) who conducts a small Thyagaraja festival in this house around Pongal time every year. She asked those of us who would like to receive an invitation by post to write our names and addresses in a notebook. I sang (a sadly abridged - my memory erased the Anupallavi entirely) Raghu Vira in Huseni.
And here in this simple home, painted bright blue, with its precious shrine, lives a genetic line of Thyagaraja. And life goes on.
Next we looked for - and found! - Mangala Vilas, a house where the courtesans of the Maratha court- the Akkas - lived. These Akkas had a different (lower?) status from the Devadasis and Rajadasis (I should read up). Apparently these were the good looking women that the king fancied. It must have been an impressive building but now is decrepit and seems to house a toilet warehouse and a school. Sad. Many people we asked before we got there had no idea where it was and I think I can safely say that most of them did not know its history. It is almost certainly destined for the wrecking ball one day. Such a shame. This handsome building could be restored and made into - a heritage centre, a museum, an artists’ studio, even a shop, anything better than this.
Mangala Vilas - a once-proud building in sad disrepair
Then down Manojiappa Street across the street from Mangala Vilas. Somewhere here Brinda and her sister, my old teacher, Muktha, lived. Once again, we had to put our imagination to use as we couldn’t find the actual house. But just being in the neighborhood, imagining life on those narrow streets, was enough.
Onto Eliamman Koil Street on which Bala’s grandmother (Kamakshi Ammal??) the family matriarch, lived. There is an Eliamman temple here. Once more my ignorance showed itself. There are apparently 9 levels (?) of the goddess Devi that are worshipped, one each, on Navarathri, starting with Eliamman, at the bottom of the totem pole, and ending with Kamakshi. Eliamman has something wild and feral about her, with her temple full of snakes, and she, raw and untamed; at the other end is Kamakshi - beautiful, powerful, serene. I should read up!!
It was hot, it was dusty and wandering about, back and forth, without a known destination, can be tiring. We decided we’d take an auto to our final destination, the Bangaru Kamakshi temple to which Bala was dedicated, the same one where Syama Sastri was priest. Many autos said they wouldn’t go, and finally we found one largish one into which all 7 of us squeezed! It wasn’t too bad!
!!!!!!
Apparently Bangaru Kamakshi is Veshnu’s Kula Deivam so he bought her a sari and some flowers. The temple is completely unprepossessing. The stone structure that is the bottom part of the temple is old. Unfortunately they have decided to tack on a brand new multicolored gopuram and work is going on for this. The two halves, the old and the new, the monocolor and the technicolor, clash violently with each other. I have seen this at other temples and have no idea why they do this.
We lined up along the side of the railing for a darshanam of the goddess. She is lovely - solid gold, with a blackened face. The priest brought us the lit lamp, kumkumum, flowers. I am a pro at this now - holding my hand out correctly, dabbing myself with the powder, placing the remainder on any nearby pillar. Then Veshnu whispered, do you know the Bhairavi swarajathi? And so we sang some of it, chunks of it sadly lost from my memory. But it felt good. Veshnu’s sari was draped gently over Bangaru Kamakshi and she was garlanded with his flowers. Even though I have no belief in any of this, it felt good being part of this group, this place, this ritual.
Apparently this Kamakshi has been places! There are 8 Kamakshis, according to Veshnu. 3 (or 4?) remain in Kanchipuram, the rest are around in Tamil Nadu. During Muslim invasions of these regions, these idols, precious because of the gold and other metals from which they were made, were spirited away to Kanchipuram by 8 families whose responsibility it was to find a safe haven for them. (later I found that my friend Bhargavi’s father’s family was one of them).
The temple comes alive in the evening when dozens of people come in for a darshanam and then stay around, exchanging chatter. In one corner a nadaswaram player and tavil player performed, lost in their music.
Saskia remembered that there is a Syama Krishna temple next door - the brother to Bangaru Kamakshi - Syama Krishna Sahodari - and we walked around the back to the Bangaru Kamakshi temple (past an impossibly cute calf who must have been very recently born) and sat for a while by the side of the Shyama Krishna temple. It was around 5 pm and we were told the priest would come around 5.30. So we sat and chatted, napped, daydreamed, looked at phones. Saskia told me a lot about Bala and her life. About her guru Kandappa Pillai who went to America and coped with this enormous change in place by taking to alcohol and drugs that destroyed him. He returned to India but was never the same. The same with Lakshmi, Bala’s daughter. And living in the US, I can see how that country can corrode and destroy.
A while later we decided to go see Syama Sastri’s house, just behind the temple. A tiny home, painted blue (!). A middle aged women with horribly misaligned teeth invited us in. There’s just one small room, a pooja room (where Syama worshipped), a species of kitchen and a sunny garden at the back with a narrow well (that Syama was supposed to have used) and fruit trees. This was his world. This little home and across a narrow street, his beloved Bangaru Kamakshi. That’s all he needed to make his celestial music.
In front of Syama Sastri's home!
It was nearly 6 when we went back to the Shyama Krishna temple, and shortly after, the priest arrived. We went in- the interior looked very different to the Bangaru Kamakshi temple, with its large hall and Saskia said it was built in Maratha times. The Bangaru Kamakshi was not built as a temple, but was first just a place to house the idol. The Shyama Krishna was behind a curtain that was closed, then opened; we were offered the flame, kumkumum and something put on our heads which Veshnu later told us was symbolic of the feet of god.
Back in 3 autos to our hotel. A short rest, then dinner, (a gluey, but still tasty, cauliflower Manchurian with phulkas, an odd combination that tasted better than it sounds) then bed!