A tribute to the mind and music of T M Krishna

The Chennai Music Academy has conferred the prestigious Sangita Kalanidhi award on the rebellious, some would say irreverent, vocal (pun intended) Carnatic music maestro, T M Krishna. He is strikingly unorthodox, boldly innovative, and unabashedly avant garde. In short, a free spirit.

Krishna traverses with elan and ease between classical forms in traditional major ragas and lyrics of great composers like Thyagaraja, Shyama Shastri, and Muthuswamy Dikshitar, sings popular bhajans of Meera, Kabir and others, excels in the devotional songs of Purandara Dasa, sings Sanskrit shlokas from epics like Ramayana in full-throated ease, pours forth in ecstasy from a treasure trove of Tamil songs of renowned composers, and sings modern poetry, set to tune by himself in Carnatic ragas, of iconoclastic authors like Perumal Murugan, the Navya poetry of Kannada poets like Kuvempu, or the revolutionary Vachanas of Basavanna.  

He renders folk songs of Bauls that are odes to love, the itinerant wandering minstrels that comprise of largely Vaishnava Hindus and Sufi Muslims from Bengal and Bangladesh. He often surprises audiences by concluding his concerts with short pieces like Raghupati Raghava Rajaram, Ishwar Allah Tero Naam, instead of ending with a normal ‘mangalam’, or ends with unsung parts of the poem of Tagore from which the lines of the national anthem were chosen, that move  audiences to tears of joy. He sings Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s Hum Dekhenge in concert halls as well as on platforms of protest. In one of his concerts titled ‘Unity In Diversity’ in Bengaluru, he sang a deeply moving bhajan on Krishna in Urdu by the renowned Pakistani poet Hafiz Jalandhari, who also penned the national anthem of Pakistan. 

Krishna stitches together and laces his concerts with a vibrant tapestry of songs and ragas that mirrors the rich diversity of India. At times, he does the unimaginable, rendering into song, for instance, the ancient rock edits of Emperor Ashoka, a fruit of intense labour of love, a collaborative research project with historians, linguists and epigraphists delving into rock proclamations across Buddhist sites from 2,500 years ago. He sets the raga and tunes to the pithy texts in Prakrit, a language nearly extinct, except surviving in enigmatic hieroglyphs released to the public a year ago. The central message of Krishna’s medley of songs on Ashoka’s edicts are love, harmony, peace, and the path of Dharma or justice.

Krishna may be a rebel against blind orthodoxy, but he is a serious student of the art, a purist who transcends himself in every concert by seeking to explore new frontiers. 

There are many, especially of the ‘Hindutva’ persuasion, who are strident critics of Krishna. Some say he courts controversy and revels in it. Krishna has been at the forefront of taking classical music to tribal and transgender communities and other marginalised sections of society. He holds concerts in their hamlets, involving the youth, and performs along with them in their communities, mingling with them, and recognising their music as being no less than classical music, but only different and often more vibrant and soulful. He has been on a musical journey breaking social and caste barriers, often facing brickbats along the way. 

As Albert Camus eloquently said, an artist must have fealty to his art but as a man, his overarching fidelity is first to society, and he must stand in solidarity with others.

When one of his concerts in Delhi, sponsored by the Airports Authority in Delhi under the Ministry of Civilian Aviation was cancelled at the last minute because of objections by right-wing mobs, Krishna said, “The government of the day must hear diverse views and dissenting voices. They need to hear the song, the voices from without…
they must listen to these songs of protest.” 

The Music Academy citation says, T M Krishna “one of the foremost Carnatic musicians today” trained under the legendary Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer, among others. “Known for his adherence to tradition when it comes to the art, he has experimented widely with its format. He has also worked towards expanding the listener base of the art by taking it to varied social settings and focusing on its exploratory as opposed to tightly defined structures. He has used music as a tool for social reform.” Indeed.

Krishna had criticised the Music Academy -- the sanctum sanctorum of Carnatic musicians who seek its recognition as the supreme honour of their lives -- for its narrow, moribund ways and Brahminical orthodoxy, gender and caste bias over the years. To be invited to perform at prime time during the December music season is itself a rare honour akin to getting an entry to play at the Wimbledon tennis tournament. Krishna did the unthinkable. He protested by refusing to perform at Chennai’s reputed Music Sabhas, including on the hallowed stage of the Music Academy, during the December festival which draws music connoisseurs from around the world, in order to urge them to make the music performances inclusive, in the widest sense of the word. 

Therefore, the Academy bestowing its most-coveted award on Krishna, despite his criticism, is laudable and gracious. This magnanimous gesture may also widen the doors of the Academy to a larger cross-section of society, inviting them to the various art forms which have largely been a preserve of the privileged. 

And we can hope that with this award, Krishna will transition from enfant terrible to musician-statesman without losing his verve, innovativeness, or adventurous spirit of exploration and courage of conviction and continues to be a rebel with a noble cause to enthral lovers of music.

(The writer is a soldier, farmer and entrepreneur)