Like a gentle breeze, you entered my heart : Tribute to D.K.Pattammal

Long back, when the announcer on the radio said that Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer would be singer, my mother urged me to listen to him. "Hear the way he sings kalpanaswaras", she said. That was the first time I heard him. I still remember clearly the first concert of T N Seshagopalan and Maharajapuram Santhanam that I attended. I remember watching Bombay Jayashree for the first time on TV and telling my mother, "She sings well." I remember the first time I heard most of the artists, be it MDR, be it KVN or Musiri. But I don't remember when you entered my musical conscience. I don't remember the first time I heard you. I don't remember when you became my favorite. But you had!! Unknown to me, like a gentle breeze that is all pervasive, you had entered my heart. In my journey as a listener, I had many idols in my younger days. As my journey progressed, I had to leave many of them behind. Somewhere along this journey, you had entered and stayed firmly entrenched in my heart. You, along with MS, Brinda and Semmangudi, are now my gold standard. You define my aesthetics.

Your becoming my favorite artist silently also tells me what your music stood for. No razzle-dazzle. Nothing that springs suddenly at the audience. Nothing that catches someone by the gruff of his neck. You flowed like a natural stream. A gentle murmur. But you flowed deep and those who were interested in good music had no choice but to partake from this gently flowing stream. Having partaken from this stream, they rarely ventured anywhere else.

You had that amazing capacity to mould every composition to your own style at the same time maintaining the structure that the composer had intended. In your singing, people could clearly see the style of Dikshitar or Syama Sastry or Tyagaraja and at the same time they could clearly see your 'bani'. These two aspects were so well integrated in your singing that it was difficult to say if the composition enhanced your singing or if your singing enhanced the composition. To me, that is the mark of a great artist. Your singing had that assurance which was probably born out of internalizing everything that the composition spoke to you. This led to tremendous humility towards the art, which in turn reflected in your singing. You were always the singer who respected the intentions of the composer.

I understood the power of your style of singing when I heard your brother in a concert. Those were the days when I was enamored by a star singer of those time. I wouldn't accept anyone's singing other than this particular singer's. So, when your brother sang I listened with disinterest. I was sure no one can sing better than my favorite singer. The first few songs passed without me being impressed. (Those were the ignorant and heady days of youth.) Then your brother started 'Nannu Vidachi' in Reethigowla. The krithi was so well structured, that inspite of my stubborn resistance, the walls of my prejudice were broken, brick by brick. By the time your brother ended the krithi, I was standing like a 'nirayudhapani'. I had no choice but to bow before the great art displayed by your brother.

To me, people like you and your contemporaries like MS, Brindamma and Muktamma stood for what is the very best in Indian culture. All of you put your art before yourselves. Each of you worked hard, broke many barriers and like the Mahatma who fought for freedom without hating the enemy, all of you broke many prejudices gently. You fought with the best possible weapon, your music. What can men with all their prejudice do when confronted with such high art. They had no choice but to silently bow and accept defeat, which they did. To all of you, that was incidental. The real success was what you did to the art, the contributions you made to music. That is the great legacy that all of you leave behind.

You have left behind krithis on which you have put your indelible stamp. There was a perfection in the way the krithis were structured. I still remember the day when I got back from office and saw you on TV, singing 'Chintaya Makanda Mula Kandam' in Bhairavi. What a rendition it was!! I stood rooted to the spot. Absolutely assurance, with Bhairavi dripping in each phrase. I was lucky to attend a concert of yours, in which your grand daughter sang along with you. The only concert of yours I had attended. Age may have taken a toll on your voice but not on your ideas. I still remember the awe I felt when you painted Chakravakam with just a few strokes before taking up the krithi. What can I say about the charming Hamir Kalyani in 'Thumani Madathu' or the sparkling Paras in 'Neelayadakshi' or the majestic Todi in 'Dasukovalena' or the enchanting Madhyamavathi in 'Dharmasamvardhani' or the traditional Bilahari in 'Kamakshi Varalakshmi'. So many krithis which you have transformed into our memories using your magic wand.

As long as my ears can hear, as long as my brain can process music, you will stay with me. You had the riches of music with you which you generously gave to so many of us. I am a poor man. All I can offer to you is this humble tribute. May you rest in peace.