The Tamil Tyagayya: A Centenary

THE TAMIL TYAGAYYA
A Centenary Tribute to Papanasam Sivan

It was a small gathering of music lovers and devotees. A young man began singing a Tamil Kriti in Kuntalavarali Raga, with the notation somewhat reminiscent of “Saara saara samaraika” by Tyagaraja. Simple Tamil words couched in humility formed the soulful prayer to Lord Tyagaraja, the presiding deity of Tiruvarur:

Grant me your grace
To sing your praise
In sweet music.
That I may not praise
Lucre or lovely ladies
And thus shrivel up my soul.
Lord Tyagaraja of Tiruvarur,
Friend of devotees;
Lord who essays
The Ajaba dance
On the banks of holy Kamalalaya
Which is superior to the heavens above!
Grant me thy grace!

The young man had composed the song and was now rendering it in a self-forgetful trance. The great musician, Chimizhi Sundaram Iyer, who was in the gathering exclaimed spontaneously that a “Tamil Tyagayya” had entered the world of music. And Papanasam Sivan was born.

“Unnai Tudikka Arul” was to be the first of hundreds of mellifluous Kritis gifted by Papanasam Sivan to the classical music milieu. There were other facets of his personality that were to evolve brilliantly in the future. The tireless teacher whom Rukmini Arundale hailed as a meditative communicator of the devotional content of classical music compositions; the leader of Bhajans who passed on to the younger generation in Mylapore an unshakeable faith in the multifoliate glory of Hinduism; the concert singer whose rough-edged voice was bent by the creative energy of his spiritual strength to immerse listeners in waves of Rasa; the ardent patriot who communicated the nationalist spirit to vast concourses in Congress meetings through songs on freedom and India's glorious past; the film actor who essayed to perfection roles like the Puranic Kuchela and also that of Sambhu Shastri of Kalki’s magnificent novel, Tyaga Bhoomi; the Guru for film songs rendered by legends like M. K. Tyagaraja Bhagavatar, P. U. Chinnappa, N. C. Vasantakokilam and M. S. Subbulakshmi; and the most difficult of them all, the good man whom poverty and sorrows could not bend or break, the simple man of faith, not unlike Christian in Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.

However, it is Papanasam Sivan the composer who outshines all other facets. While the rest belong to an age gone by, Sivan’s songs are sought-after currency even today. For these songs are truly the nurslings of immortality. Who can improve upon Tiger K. Varadachariar’s tribute that places Sivan in the direct line of Purandaradasa, Tyagaraja and Muthuswami Dikshitar?

“Many a time have I listened with rapture to his soul-­stirring songs in Tamil and Sanskrit. I have been deeply impressed with the flawless technique and the elegant style of his musical output. The pieces breathe a freshness and verve so characteristic of the composer, who reveals himself through them as an apostle of Faith and Hope to all seekers after Light and Truth.”

It is somewhat intriguing that the copious praise lavished upon Sivan the composer has generally dismissed the content of his songs as conventional. His million-hued manodharma, which welds choice phrases with appropriate musical notes, is there for everyone to appreciate. But Sivan was more than a clever composer with deep musical sense. Because of his sufferings and humility, he led an intensely soul-directed life, and this automatically came out as a poetic voice. He was a typical child of the Vedic-Upanishadic-Puranic heritage. He bowed to all deities in the Hindu pantheon and yet he seems to have glimpsed the Indivisible. One behind this rich variety. This sruti of universality makes his songs gems of shimmering bhakti rays.

Was there a favourite deity, an ishta-devata for him? It is hard to say. Taking into account his songs alone, the signs seem to lead Subramania. Some of his finest compositions are about this youthful Lord. While the lance of the divine commander-­in-chief gives an immediate sense of protection, his marrying Indra’s daughter Devasena and the huntress Valli give a grand two-pronged romantic tinge to the songs. Also, Narayana the uncle, Shiva-Parvati the parents and the brother Ganesa take their place in the shortest songs with electrical ease. The popular deity of the masses, six-faced and twelve-shouldered, comes rushing in the peacock. All of which produce quickly a recognisable image in just eight short lines.

Papanasam Sivan often uses the word “Murugayya” which evokes the close parent-child relationship. Incidentally Muruga also easily rhymes with “Narayana’s Muruga” (nephew). The simplest words mark the Todi Kriti, “Kunram Kudi” which nevertheless has been elevated into a grand edifice by the slow-­tempo rendering of D. K. Pattammall.

Muruga who resides on the hill,
Beloved of the huntress!
Son of the Dancer of the Hall,
Muruga who comes on a peacock!
I have never forgotten your fame
Even in my dreams.
And yet where is your compassion?
My sorrows do not cease.
O Lord of Tirupparankunram
Resounding with Vedic chants!

Another Todi Kriti, “Tamasam” is a sumptuous creation in the style of Muthuswami Dikshitar. The phrases glitter like fresh-cut gems as they telescope to describe Papanasam Sivan’s state:

Why are you late?
O Swaminatha,
Who else will help me?
Why are you late
Even when I bow at your feet
Where even Narayana,
Brahma and Indra pay homage?

Lusting after female company
I have suffered and lost my reason,
Sins have gathered in me
And I have lost your grace,
And now my mind
Is anxious for your compassion.
Come soon on your peacock mount
Holding your shining lance to please me!

Enough, enough, this shabby birth.
Enough, enough, this life of grandeur.
Enough of your play as well.
Another birth would be my sorrow.
I cannot stand any more
This joust with you.
Nephew of Narayana!
Muruga who laves in joy
With two consorts divine!

Scores of Papanasam Sivan’s songs on Subramania are widely popular: among them, “Malmaruga” (Vasanta), ‘Vandu Arul’, (Devamanohari), “Thanigaivalar” (Todi) and “Tirupparankunram” (Hindolam).

Sivan’s intense devotion for Shiva has also given us noble edifices like “Kana Kan” (Kambhodhi, and “Kapali” (Mohanam). A difference definitely marks his approach to Shiva ninda-stuti is his favourite style, for unlike Muruga, Shiva is seen only as the all-powerful parent. Fancy this elder silently allowing his son suffer so intensely in the sea of Samsara! Angry laughter dipped in the swirling ocean of immoveable devotion flashes but again and again in several compositions.

Will not the atheists laugh at the very mention of Shiva if he continues to delight in the sorrows of a devotee (“Kadaikkan” in Todi? While Kritis like “Undu Eoru” in Harikambhodhi speak of Shiva the Emperor of the worlds, conventional ninda­stuti marks “Parpala Porpani” (Kamas):

Nor fair nor russet nor dark is he:
He has no place of his own;
Nor woman, nor man,
There is none who gave him birth,
How then am I to know
His caste and creed?
And here is the devotee in “Nee Anavo” (Pantuvarali):

Bound by the rope of desire,
Senseless, confused,
Sans the help of love,
Alas, caught in the web of lies,
m getting destroyed.
Please, an end to this drama
Which makes you happy.
Am I not your refuge, Nilakantha?

And yet And yet. Who can fathom the wiles of the Lord’s various dramas? There was the one in which he defeated the Mother in dance. Was it not by deceit?

Dancing with Kali
And afraid of imminent defeat,
You pretended your ear-ring had fallen.
Thus you performed urdhva-tandava
And won the contest!
Grant me your grace!
(“Adum Deivam”, Kambhodhi)

In a Saveri Kriti, Sivan chooses the time-tested Nayaka-Nayaki bhava to serve an ultimatum:

O Shiva, if you reject,
The devoted Ramadasa*
I will take you to court.
Even if I lose there
I shall shame you in public.
I will cry and curse you.
Better come and accept me.
Let there be no misunderstanding
On this score.
You should not reject a refugee.
Do not allow strangers
To come near me
Who thinks of you always.
(*Ramadasa is the mudra of Papanasam Sivan)

Sivan is very poor but look at this poorer beggar! Or is if all a put on show? In “Pichaikku” (Surati):

Is it because of some dacoits
You have hidden your riches.
In Kubera’s palace
And have come here
Covered in white ashes,
Like a gypsy, carrying
A load of clinging snakes?

In fact, from whence this wonder of devotion when the object of worship is an inscrutably violent image?

In the russet wild of tresses
They say the divine Ganges flows.
Fierce snakes slither around
While a digit of the moon gleams on it.
Ah, a blue throat all poison
And a figure smeared with ashes.
This is Nataraja, lover of Sivakami
Praised by Brahma and Vishnu.
And yet I am choked with desire
To see him dancing in the Golden Hall.
(“Adiya Patham”, Pantuvarali)

Has not this desire led him into a dead end? Sivan sings in ecstatic frustration:

I have been deceived by you
You who have poison within
And scalding fire in your smile.
It is my fate, nothing else.
Because I heard everyone, even Vedas,
Praise you, I too believed you
In all my ignorance.
This mad fellow has rented his body
To a girl; carries another on his head.
Decorates himself with moon’s digit.*
Not knowing all this cheating
I placed my faith in you.
I did not know then of the tales
When you were beaten up
By stones and bow.
I did not know then
That you are an eternal beggar
Dancing in Tillai’s crematorium
(“Unnai Nambi”, Chakravakam.
“Kurai madhi”: moon’s digit which also means
“lacking in intelligence”)

But then, whatever the torture of body and soul the devotee is subjected to by this mad man, he yet firmly clings to this divine mad man:

I will not let go
My Lord’s feet.
Whatever others may prattle
Or even if I die.
Let my life on earth come to an end.
Or the skies fall on my head.
Let a million sicknesses attack
My pulse, veins and bones.
Even if I lose my honour and struggle,
Even if I am condemned to such births again,
I shall not let go
My Lord’s feet.

It is this firm faith that gives a Tyagaraja-like strength to the briefest of Sivan’s Kritis. His songs in praise of Parvati’s many manifestations are extremely moving. Phrase after phrase marks the sheer cry of the child in pain and the Ragas are always startlingly appropriate. When his first born, little Karpagam, passed away, the shocked heart of Sivan melted as the noble Madhyamavati prayer to the presiding deity of Kapaleeswara temple in Mylapore:

She is Truth, consciousness,
Bliss, The life of all life.
She is the meaning of Mahavakyas
Like Tat Tvam Asi.
She destroys the heat of Samsara
That blasts Sattwic devotees.
She does grant us here
Progeny, happiness and wealth.
Also, and everlasting bliss
In the life beyond.

All the prayerful songs to Subramania, Shiva, Parvati, Rama, Krishna, Ganesha and Ayyappa composed by Sivan have those devotional songs themselves as the goal. Ultimately that is the only desire of any composer: to retain unhindered till the end the ability to create such musical offerings to the Divine. Thus Sivan in “Amba Manam “ in Pantuvarali, rendered immortal by the sublime voice of M. K. Tyagaraja Bhagavatar:

Mother, you are my refuge.
May your heart soften towards me.
Nightingale who sports in the Kadamba garden,
Pouring grace on devotees
To nullify the fiery Samsara sickness.

I should compose your praise
In beautiful Tamil poesy.
I should sing, bowing at your feet.
My thought and tongue
Should never forget your name and fame.
I should not be tempted in any way
By the six “enemies” in worldly life.
These are the gifts I ask for,
O Empress of the Worlds!
My mother! Mother of the universes!