I am the sound of my veena...MiD DAY's Published Version

I am the sound of my veena... By: Sushumna Kannan Date:  2009-03-31

Bangalore: What makes every artiste's music unique? Sushumna Kannan looks for answers World Space's 24-hour Carnatic music channel, Shruti,  interviewed veena artiste E Gayathri recently. The interviews, in this time-slot, are interspersed with music by the artiste. I was fascinated and charmed by what Gayathri said about the sound or naadam of her veena. She said, "If I were to play a veena for about 150 hours, the veena gains a specific sound that is specifically mine."  Sublime: Gayathri says the veena is an instrument that takes on the breath of the player Her three different veenas at home are all of the same naadam. How does this happen? She says the veena is an instrument that takes on the breath of the player. That is why the sound of an artiste's music is unique, irrespective of his/her style of playing or expertise. If you have listened to Gayathri's music, you will have realised that the sound constitutes a major part of what we enjoy in her music; 'sound' rather than the 'craft'.   This is possibly what art critics mean when they use the word "genius", unable to say if 'everything is craft' and therefore learnable as well.  One's breath, one's personality, one's way of being in this world contribute to the music one makes, and very concretely at that. Gayathri also told us that there are breathing practices she engages in and that she realises when her "breath stops", which she regards as necessary for her music.  "Although for three hours at a concert, one cannot actually hold one's breath, there are practices that when perfected amount to the same," she says. So, contrary to everyday expectations, breath is what needs to be "stopped" in order to create. In moments of full preoccupation and utter concentration, I realise I am not breathing. This runs contrary to the injunction "breathe, deeply" when in a worrying situation. Or do these two understandings arise from the same premise? I need more space to think this through than is available here, so that's for another article. If there is no breath, there is no artiste, is it not? Who then is creating the music?  And is this not true for all acts of creation as well? And even all actions as such? Is this what musicians indicate, when they give all credit to Saraswati? But if breathing in a certain way (or stopping the breath) is learnable, then is Gayathri's sound or genius learnable too, without us becoming her? Perhaps not.   I find myself falling in love with the high-pitched clear-twanged veena or the base-sounding deep-voiced one. My week has begun on a lovely (musical) note! The writer is with the Centre for the Study of Culture and Society (CSCS).