Here below is a Facebook posting dt 28 December 2022 that narrates a famous incident that took the world of Carnatic Music by storm back in 1977. It was the clash of the titans —- Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer, the “bhishma pitaamahar” of Carnatic music who ruled the roost for well over two decades in the 1970s through 1980s and Subbudu, the music critic who could be compared as being the Voltaire of Carnatic music.
After you have read the Facebook posting below, you should also read my own personal narrative account of what I know was the cause and background of the storm . My narrative is based on my observation of the events surrounding the brouhaha then from the sidelines. I was 20 years old then . My parents , Sangeetha Kalanidhi Smt. Mani Krishnaswami and M. Krishnswami were ardent admirers and close friends of both Semmangudi and Subbudu. It was thus very difficult for them both to choose sides in the fracas between the kutcheri maestro and the irrepressible music critic. They chose neither side … and with grace and honor.
But first , please do read the Facebook posting below before you go on to read my own personal account of the incident that follows further down below :
THE EMERGENCY RIOT
Facebook posting 28 Dec 2022
It was December 1977. There was a newfound enthusiasm after the dark days of Indira Gandhi’s Emergency. M. L. Vasanthakumari was selected to preside over that year’s conference of the Music Academy. Women libbers were enthusiastic as two women in a row were selected to be Sangita Kalanidhis; the doyen of the Veena Dhanammal tradition, T. Brinda in 1976 and now MLV. Fans of MLV were licking their chops, as she, their favourite musician, one of the very colourful of that breed, was to preside over the most prestigious event of Indian music. Fans of Canteen Krishnamurti were licking their lips, as on the very first day itself the veteran cook had prepared காசி ஹல்வா, பதிர்ப்பேணி and பன்னீர் ஜாங்கிரி kAshi halva, padir pENi and pannIr jAngiri. A hat trick so sweet that it bowled not three, but three times three hundred rasikas.
Oohs and Aahs rent the crisp afternoon air at the Academy canteen on inauguration day as the sweet toothed gobbled one delicacy after the other. Only the applause was missing, though a few enterprising mAmAs slapped hard on Krishnamurti’s fragile back in appreciation. The gourmets looked forward to a season full of mouth-watering delicacies to go with the edifying lec-dems and the delectable art of the musicians. There was no disagreement when, between mouthfuls of padir pENi, a mAmi of no mean proportions ventured her opinion that the year’s season would be very special. Just how special it would turn out to be, none would have dreamt of then.
Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer who had entered his 70th year, had given a concert at the Tamil Isai Sangam festival. T. N. Krishnan was the violinist. The veteran’s voice was playing hide and seek with him, totally uncooperative. Semmangudi could not make an impact. In contrast, TNK was in great form. The crowd at Raja Annamalai Hall applauded TNK repeatedly, which annoyed Semmangudi, who at one point admonished the crowd saying, “வையலினிஸ்டுக்கு கை தட்டினா மாத்ரம் போறாது. பாடறவாளுக்கும் கை தட்டணும் (It is not enough that you applaud the violinist, you must applaud the vocalist too). Of course, the amused Chettiar dominated crowd obliged him.
The next morning, Madras music lovers woke up to strong coffee and The Indian Express newspaper (Yeah, apart from ‘The Hindu’, Carnatic music rasikas bought the Indian Express too during the music season). A few tumblers were dropped, a few throats choked after the first sip as people rubbed their sleepy eyes in disbelief. For most music lovers, their coffee went cold as they read the tongue lashing, nay, pen lashing, by Subbudu the critic, who went hammer and tongs at the concert in The Indian Express and in its Tamil sibling Dinamani. He criticised Semmangudi for the ‘pathetic’ quality of his concert as he called it and ridiculed the veteran for his advice to the audience and said in effect that, ‘even the dreaded Emergency has come to an end but there seems to be no end to Semmangudi.’ எமெர்ஜென்சிக்கே ஒரு முடிவு வந்துவிட்டது, இன்னும் செம்மங்குடிக்கு ஒரு முடிவு வரவில்லை was what he wrote in the Tamil Dinamani. This was hitting below the belt. Subbudu also advised Semmangudi that he would be doing the music world a great service if he stopped singing and retired forthwith.
By 8 A.M. all hell broke loose in Mylapore. Not even one copy of the Indian Express was available in the Mylapore area. The cognoscenti were outraged. How dare this stupid (a coincidental rhyming with the critic’s name) man who knew very little of music criticise our beloved mAmA? That too couched in indecent language! For years now the critic (self-appointed critic, some would cynically aver!) was unsparing in his diatribes against the veteran. He used the choicest epithets to make fun of and deride Semmangudi mAmA’s music. He should be taught a lesson. No one knows what went on behind the scenes at the Academy. But it was decided that a meeting to condemn Subbudu should be conducted as soon as possible. It was a double emergency as Semmangudi was slated to sing at the Music Academy the next day.
The meeting started at 10 A.M. the day after Subbudu’s diatribe appeared in The Indian Express and Dinamani. There was no announcement in any newspaper about the impending declaration of war as the decision was taken behind closed doors and known only to a few important people. The Academy managers and other worthies marched hither and thither on the stage. Very few people knew what was going on, excepting that something exciting was going to happen. A few minutes later everyone knew. A worthy from out of town who was babbling about the utility of music in the bhakti movement was cut short and shown the way to the green room, thus abruptly bringing to a halt the morning’s lec-dem session. This was no time for bhakti. It was time to demonstrate shakti!
How news travelled fast through the roads and streets of South Madras is a mystery, especially in those days of no Internet or cell phones. The Music Academy hall overflowed. Furious vidwans and rasikas, some of whom had had a little too much to drink even at that early hour (no, not coffee) were rolling up their sleeves. M. L. Vasanthakumari in a deft, diplomatic move, feigned illness and remained at home (she was advised by one of her close friends to stay away). In her absence, Balamurali Krishna was called to preside over the meeting.
Not in the least anticipating the diatribe that Semmangudi would launch against him the next year at the closed door Academy Experts committee meeting, and ridicule and rubbish his claims of ‘invention’ of new rAgas, Balamurali agreed to don the mantle of அவைத்தலைவர் ‘avai talaivar’, President of the meeting. He mouthed something in his kochchai Tamil. If this was the கதி ‘gati’ of ‘our senior’ ‘our beloved mAmA’, what about ‘humble’ vidvAns like ‘me’, he asked. T. N. Krishnan came to the mike and said, ‘எங்க செம்மங்குடி அய்யர்வாள் இல்லைனா நான் இல்லை. அவர எப்பிடியாக்கும் இது போல எழுதலாம்?’ (I exist because of Semmangudi; how can he write like this?). ‘‘അതെ അതെ’, Yes, yes, thundered a couple of Kerala tuskers from the audience, ആ തെമ്മാടിയുടെ കൈ ഒടിക്കണം’ (That rascal Subbudu’s arms should be broken). Perhaps Swati Tirunal’s ghost was in a rage at his favourite protégé and propagandist being humiliated by Subbudu and was egging on the visitors from the other side of the Western Ghats. These were delightful interventions from the audience.
A few mAmAs, each important in his own way, also spoke. Each of them used the choicest words available in the Tamil language to abuse Subbudu. One of them said, ‘அவன் வரட்டும் இங்க, என்ன கதி ஆரான் பாத்துடலாம் (Let him, meaning Subbudu, come here; we shall see the end of him). Another particularly tipsy mAmA, who usually brushed his teeth every morning with whisky, jumped up from the front row and roared, ‘அவனை என்ன பண்றேன் பாரு, டேய் தைர்யம் இருந்தா இங்க வாடா!!! (see what I do to him; hey, if you have the guts come up here). The mAmIs in their choicest silks and colourful and copious flowers on their hair were no less furious. All of them would have together murdered Subbudu had he the guts to appear before them.
Semmangudi spoke and he began by asking, அந்த மகா பாவி இருக்கானா இங்க? ‘anda mahA pAvi irukkAnA inge?’ (Is that despicable sinner here?), as if Subbudu would be waiting at the Academy to be lynched. He further thundered (in his nasal tone, of course), ‘என்ன நினைச்சுண்டிருக்கான் அவன்? ஓஹோ, அவ்வளவு மட்டமா போய்ட்டேனா? (What does he think? Oho, have I become so worthless?). Semmangudi said that he understood that Subbudu was indulging in music criticism because he had no other job (வேலை வெட்டி இல்லாத பயல் critic ஆயிட்டான் vElai veTTi illAda payal critic AyTTAn!). He therefore offered to give Subbudu a job in his paNNai பண்ணை (farm) in Semmangudi village, adding that Subbudu’s true calling was as a ஆடு மேய்க்கறவன் goat herd, not as music critic. He could do all the mischief with the ஆடு-s, the goats, in the Semmangudi paNNai.
Semmangudi did not spare The Indian Express either. Said the veteran who was even then being hailed as the Pitamaha of Carnatic music, ‘வர வர இந்தியன் எக்ஸ்பிரெஸ்ஸும் இந்துநேசன் மாதிரி ஆயிண்டு வரது (The Indian Express is also becoming like Indunesan). Indunesan was a yellow journal of the 1930s and ’40s which published lurid details of the personal lives of film stars and high society worthies. இதுக்கெல்லாம் நம்ம அகாடெமி தான் ஒரு முடிவு கட்டணும், the Academy should put an end to all this.’ Thus concluding his speech, the grand old man of Carnatic music reluctantly went back to his seat, unusually inhaling a large pinch of snuff into his nostrils and exhaling fury.
The Indian Express was abused by a couple of others too. Some worthies pompously offered to talk to the great Ramnath Goenka (the publisher) himself. Did Goenka think that Semmangudi was Indira Gandhi to be attacked in this manner? asked someone. A resolution was passed and the Express was threatened that if they didn’t publish this, they had better beware. And so the meeting ended by hailing the valuable contributions of Semmangudi to the cause of music as also the havoc criticism was causing to that great art. By a show of hands, the captive audience expressed its solidarity with the beleaguered Semmangudi. The Academy could really do nothing else. So, what began as a storm, ended in a whimper.
After the meeting a sizable portion of the crowd went to the canteen for bOnDas and coffee. Canteen Krishnamurti had a tough time managing the irate crowd, which not being able to thrash Subbudu then and there, abused the poor waiters for the delay in serving. In their anxiety to preserve the Pitamaha’s dignity, some of the respectable mAmAs and a few mAmIs too, walked past the counter without paying and had to be pulled up by Krishnamurti and made to cough up for what they had gobbled.
And for the rest of the season, Subbudu was nowhere to be found in the Mylapore area. It was rumoured that he had taken the first available flight back to Delhi. There were still five days remaining of the season. For sheer musico-political rioting this incident takes the cake next only to the thrashing Subbudu got at Tiruvaiyyaru a few years before that.
That day in December 1977 was a real treat. One does not get to have such fun these days in the season. Well, those were the days, the days of Semmangudi and Balamurali, of Subbudu and Balachander, of Nangavaram Ambi and ‘Auto Parts’ Kannan and many others of their ilk. Most of them have left the scene, the others have retired from attending the season, fed up with the goody-goody crowd that now throngs the Academy, a crowd that believes in proper behaviour, whatever that means! Sorry, those days are over.
END OF THE FACEBOOK POST
My Own Take on the clash of the Carnatic Music titans : Semmangudi-Vs-Subbudu
Both antagonists in the battle were personally very well known to my parents . My mother Smt Mani Mrishnaswami looked up to Semmangudi maama as a veritable giant of music. So did my father M. Krishnaswami. The stormy petrel, Subbudu was also a long-time friend of my parents for more than 10 years in New Delhi when my father worked in the Lok Sabha legal secretariat as Legal Assistant and my mother had then been a young Carnatic musician trying hard to get a foothold for herself in the field. Subbudu greatly respected the musical Vidwath of my mother and the warm amiable nature of my father. Subbudu then was working as Under Secretary in MoF headed them by the irascible TT Krishnamachari . Subbudu was then writing for the Statesman newspaper as a freelancing stringer covering Carnatic music concerts held in the city. One of the concerts he covered and wrote about was a Semmangudi kutcheri in Delhi which was not very flattering to the doyen who then became very miffed by Subbudus irreverent comments about the finer points of the concert performance the previous evening.
The story goes that next day semmangudi maama who was a friend of TTK was invited home for a meal by the then FM. At that meeting Semmangudi is said to have complained to TTK about Subbudu’s irreverence, even insolence, as music critic. TTK told friend Semmangudi he would take care of Subbudu. Story goes that thereafter Subbudu the Under Secretary in the MoF received rather poor appraisals serially for career performance and his future prospects in government service dimmed. Subbudu never forgot Semmangudi’s blow below the belt.
Almost 10 years after my parents left Delhi and settled down in Chennai, my mother commenced her tutelage under Sri. Musiri Subramania Iyer (contemporary and close friend of Semmangudi) who groomed her to become the front-ranking artiste she later became and my father served Ramnath Goenka as Manager of the Madras office of the Indian Express whose local editor then was one Mr Seshadri (known to all in IE then as Master-ji) . Sri A N Sivaraman was Editor of Dinamani Tamil daily newspaper and Savi was editor of Dinamani Kadir, a weekly magazine.
In 1969 my father’s suggestion to Masterji/ANS/Savi to invite Subbudu from Delhi to cover the Music Festival Season as music critic and write columns for all 3 IE publications was favourably considered. Subbudu arrived in Madras and thanks to my father his stay arrangements were accommodated in the IE guest house within the Express Estates campus (now a landmark city mall) .
Subbudu spent the days of the Music Season from morning to late night hopping from Sabha to Sabha , venue to venue attending kutcheris, dance recitals , bhajana goshtis, private chamber-concerts that were being held all over the city during the season. In the night he would dictate his column for next day’s IE and his amanuensis, Sri Subramaniam (he tagged along with Subbudu wherever he went) would transcribe it all directly onto his portable typewriter. The copy would be sent to the IE editorial Dept a little later after midnight and Subbudu’s article would get published the following day. His coverage of the Madras music season written in his inimitably punch-packed style became an instant hit among music rasikas, aficionados and Vidwans alike . Subbudu’s concert reviews thereafter in the many years following became a permanent fixture in the Annual Music Festival season . People avidly read the reviews even if they didn’t care much to attend the concert under review.
Because Subbudu was such a good friend of my parents, he was warmly welcomed into our home for a meal anytime he chose — we lived in living quarters inside the Express Estates campus that Goenka had provided as a perk for my father. Subbudu at the end of most days used to cheerily drop in unannounced at our home for dinner and spend an hour or so regaling our entire family in after-meal sessions punctuated by hilarious, even outrageous personal accounts about the goings-on and gossip in the wider circles of the Madras kutcheri circuits and Meccademy. … and about the shenanigans and derring-do of many an artist and performer — some he liked and some he held in barely concealed disdain.
Subbudu was a fantastic conversationalist and raconteur ! He was a stand-up comedian and mimic too … his imitations and caricatures left us laughing in splits! He could mimic perfectly the stage mannerisms and singing styles of stalwart musicians and point out their flaws and slip-ups . He kept us all spellbound by his take on the merits and demerits , flaws and foibles, the airs and pretences , the hypocrisy and cynicism widely prevalent even then right across the world of Carnatic music. Subbudu was truly the Voltaire of Carnatic music world. His sarcasm was deadly but his observation of the world and people around him was laser sharp and accurate. He could easily puncture the bloated egos of divas and the pomposity of mahaavidwaans! He could do that with panache because his knowledge of the finer nuances of kutcheri sangitham and format was truly encyclopaedic . You could hate his abrasive style of writing but you could not find much fault in its solid substance. He really knew the grammar and idiom of Carnatic music so well. And he could recall kutcheri performances of many a vidwan past and present in the same manner as these days we see cricketing aficionados and diehard fans recall accurately aspects and highlights of innings, records and statistics of past cricketers.
Having thus entertained us all for a while after the dinner-meal,, Subbudu would take leave of us and retire to the guest-house accommodation to burn the midnight oil there writing his copy for the IE issue out the next morning . Before he left he would ask my mother , “Mani, can you please give me a bunch of betel leaves – vetthalai, paaku, seeval and chunaam— it’s needed to keep me awake tonight to write my column for tomorrow …”. My mother would happily oblige and then off he would go away as breezily as he had sauntered in!
In the music season of 1977 , Subbudu wrote that devastating critique of a kutcheri of Semmangudi titled “The Ravage of Age”. It was a savage assessment of the doyen’s by then prowess as a consummate performer already and certainly waning. No doubt about that fact. Subbudu was held guilty of heinous blasphemy by the Archbishops of Meccademy and suffered the humiliation of excommunicated status in the Madras music world for many years thereafter. It sobered him up pretty deeply.
My father as local Manager in the IE , who every one in the Carnatic music world knew was to some extent instrumental in giving Subbudu the opportunity to write for the newspaper chain, was slightly discomfited by the maelstrom that his good long-time friend Subbudu had stirred up in Madras with his stinging piece on Semmangudi. Everyone also knew that Subbudu was an admirer of Mani Krishnaswamy’s music. Would Subbudu now be an embarrassment for my parents ? No ! Not at all! The bond of personal friendship between Subbudu and my parents was too strong. My father stood firmly by Subbudu’s side during the crisis and defended the right of music critics to express their views freely and frankly in the public domain. After much deliberations on the PR fallout of the incident for the newspaper group, the big bosses in the IE finally decided not to take sides in the Subbudu-Semmangudi war of words. After the storm blew over, a chastened Subbudu thus continued to cover the Annual Music Festival for the IE chain in the following years too … His relations with Meccademy however remained frosty for many years.
The poisonous sting however in Subbudu’s trenchantly critical columns was taken out by the harsh experience he had had … It left him humbled a bit. The Voltairean bravado was gone…. having been excoriated by peers and even some good friends in the music establishment who turned against him. But then .. by then … Subbudu had already wreaked his sweet revenge on Semmangudi maama and on his long and until then illustrious and blemish-less career in the sunset years … just as the doyen himself had wrecked the critic’s early budding career as lowly civil servant in the Government of India, New Delhi.
In the final analysis, I for one can only say that the personal score settled between the Vidwan and the Vimarsakar ended only as a tame but memorable draw if not a mail-biting tie.
Sudarshan Madabushi