‘Rebel’ who challenged conventions about women singers

‘Madagascar is brilliant! Sure to get a century!’ The woman watching a cricket match on television cries out as she crushes the pallav of her Kanjivaram silk saree in excitement. The diamonds in her ears and nose throw rainbows as she shakes her head in amazement. She wants India to win. But the Pakistani cricketer remains a favourite.      

Admirers of DK Pattammal (1919-2009), who have launched her centenary celebrations this year, may find it difficult to see the fastidiously classicist Carnatic musician in the cricket enthusiast cheerleading Mudassar Nazar on a scoring spree. Particularly because the vocalist  (acclaimed for her flawless diction in multiple languages)  could not pronounce the name of the player she rooted for. She finally settled on ‘Madagascar!’

Pattammal enjoyed watching her sons play league cricket and husband’s club tennis. She could describe John Newcombe’s powerful serve, Ken Rosewall’s grand slams, Rod Laver’s volleys and Ramanathan Krishnan’s touch tennis. I wondered how she knew so much in the pre-television era of radio commentary.

DK Pattammal was one of the three great divas of Carnatic music. The others were MS Subbulakshmi and ML Vasanthakumari, who belonged to the devadasi courtesan community. Music was their family heritage. They were not only expected to perform, but support their families as professional singers. Though both eventually got married, neither society nor family saw marriage and housewifery as their destiny.

Born into a diehard Brahmin family in the temple town of Kanchipuram, Pattammal could expect early marriage and home duties. Her grandfather would not tolerate even humming by her kitchen-bound mother. For a woman from a ‘good family’ singing in public was blasphemy. However, her music-loving father took his little Patta to concerts where she heard all the big guns. A natural mimic, she began to sing this highly advanced concert music. However, while Subbulakshmi and Vasanthakumari had systematic training from childhood and claimed venerable maestros as their gurus, Pattammal had only a few opportunities for intermittent and short-term learning, from mostly unknown teachers.

But Patta’s encouraging school headmistress persuaded her father to make the girl take the government’s music examination in Madras. The ten-year-old astounded the formidable examiners. Gramophone ‘plates’ and newspaper reports followed, so did concert engagements. Before the family knew it, Pattammal was launched on a track that no Brahmin woman had trodden before: she had turned into a professional musician.

Around that time, Rukmini Devi Arundale had enraged the Madras society by taking up an art form ‘too immoral for a Brahmin woman to pursue.’ She married a British aristocrat, learnt and performed Bharatanatyam. Brahmin-born Pattammal too faced criticism for daring to sing on the stage, but it was mild and short-lived. Possibly because of her matronly appearance, orthodox lifestyle and conventional marriage to a short-tempered, but supportive Ishwaran.

Paradox was part of Pattammal’s life. Traditionalist to the core, she could turn iconoclastic at need.

When Pattammal arrived on the scene, most women musicians were restricted to render only songs without technical flourishes. ‘Ladies sing like sweet birds. Let them not tax their bird brains with anything cerebral,’ was the general attitude. Challenging improvisation and originality of style belonged to the male domain. Adventures in complex rhythms, involving virtuosic calculations, were considered to be beyond a woman’s feeble mind. 

Pattammal became the first woman to prove that she could match the men at their own game. A past master at handling intricate talas, in three speeds and more, she astonished even the experts with her brilliant laya configurations. Her strong intellect won grudging respect, which soon changed to genuine admiration. Without fanfare or stridency, Pattammal paved the way for women to equal men in every aspect of classical Carnatic music. Erudition became a part of her persona, profundity the hallmark of her style. Once she exclaimed, ‘It is preposterous to believe that women should restrain their flights of imagination. After all, they have the same brain structure as men!’ 

This resolute courage of the true Gandhian made her sing the freedom fighters’ songs in her concerts, risking arrest for sedition. Once she refused to record for the then Corporation Radio, Madras, because she was not allowed to sing patriotic songs. Pattammal sang for a few films, demanding that she should be treated as a musician, not as a playback singer. Her voice could be heard in the background, but no lip-synching by any actress!

Once I asked her what she thought of her rivals. Adroitly avoiding an analysis of their musicianship she replied, ‘Subbulakshmi has a golden voice, Vasanthakumari has a golden heart.’

The gentle lady with the benign look and ready smile had an uncompromising will. Trail blazer and torch bearer, DK Pattammal never lost her aura of dignity. Her music glows with the artistic splendour and humane values of an authentic tradition.

The author is a playwright, theatre director, musician & journalist. Views are personal.