2026 Sept 11 HerambaHemanta ArjunKumar GuruprasannaG BharadwajSathavalli at SVT Malleshwaram

Flute: Vid. Herambha Vid. Hemantha 

Mridanga: Vid. ArjunKumar 

Khanjira: Vid GuruprasannaG 

Morsing: Vid. BharadwajSathavalli

Song List:

01 valachi navarAgamAlika Adi paTNam subramaNya Iyer (O)

02 mAmava sadA janani kAnaDA rUpaka swAtitirunAL (O)

03 mAmava mAdhava nIlAmbari Adi nArAyaNa thIrtha

04 nagumOmu ganalEni abhEri Adhi tyAgarAja (A, N, S, T)

05 enna tavam saidanai kApi Adi pApanAsam sivan

06 Medley (Rahda sameta, Payoji Ram Ratan, Hari Sundara Nanda, AChyutam Keshavam, Om Jai Jagadisha Hare)

07 bArO krishNayya mAND Adhi kanaka dhAsa (A)

08 nI nAma rUpamulaku mangaLa sourAshtra Adi tyAgarAja

 

A Flute Evening at Sri Venugopala Krishnaswamy Temple

There is something particularly appropriate about listening to a flute concert in the precincts of a Krishna temple. The instrument itself seems to carry an association with the divine, and when the repertoire moves between compositions of devotion, melody and bhakti, the setting becomes part of the listening experience. Sri Venugopala Krishnaswamy Temple in Malleshwaram hosted a flute concert by Herambha Hemantha, accompanied by Arjun Kumar on mridangam, Guruprasanna G on kanjira and Bharadwaj Sathavalli on morsing.

The concert had an interesting repertoire, beginning with Patnam Subramania Aiyar's “Valaci Vacci”, the Navaragamalika varNa in Adi tala. It was a fitting opening—bright, energetic and capable of immediately establishing the melodic personality of the flute. 

From there, the concert moved into Swati Tirunal's “Maamava Sada Janani” in Kaanada, set to Roopaka tala. Kaanada brought a different shade to the proceedings, and the movement from the opening ragamalika into this composition gave the concert an early contrast in melodic colour.

The next selection, “Madhava Mamava” in Nilambari, composed by Narayana Teertha, introduced yet another dimension. Nilambari has an unmistakable capacity for repose, and the choice of this composition in a flute concert allows the instrument's sustained and lingering tonal quality to come naturally to the fore. The repertoire was already beginning to reveal a thoughtful balance between compositions that invite rhythmic movement and those that allow melody to breathe.

This was followed by one of Tyagaraja's most familiar and deeply appealing compositions, “Nagumomu” in Abheri. Familiarity with a kriti such as this can sometimes work against it, because the listener comes with very definite expectations. On the flute duet, however, the composition has its own possibilities: the lyric is no longer articulated through words, and the melodic contours have to carry the emotional content. That makes the treatment of such a composition especially dependent on phrasing and expression.

The concert then moved to Papanasam Sivan's “Enna Tavam Seithanai” in Kapi, a composition that sits naturally within a devotional atmosphere. Kapi, with its expansive emotional vocabulary, is particularly well suited to the flute. Following Abheri, it also maintained the concert's predominantly lyrical character without making the sequence feel monotonous.

An interesting feature of the programme was the inclusion of “Radha Sametha Krishna”, attributed here to G. N. Balasubramaniam, followed by Meera's “Ram Ratan Dhan Payo.” These choices moved the concert further into the devotional space, while also widening its musical canvas beyond the strictly classical concert format. The latter part of the programme consequently felt less like a conventional succession of kritis and more like a gradual unfolding of devotional music.

The devotional sequence continued with “Hari Sundara,” “Achyutam Keshavam” and “Om Jai Jagadisha Hare.” These pieces brought an accessible and familiar dimension to the concert. After the more formally structured Carnatic repertoire, such songs can create a different kind of connection with the audience, where recognition itself becomes part of the musical experience.

Kanakadasa's “Baro Krishnayya” in Mand brought the programme back to a composition strongly associated with Kannada devotional tradition. Placed in a temple setting in Malleshwaram, the choice seemed particularly apt. 

The final item in the logged repertoire was Tyagaraja's “Nee Nama Rupamulaku” in Saurashtram, in Adi tala—an appropriate conclusion to a programme that had travelled through several shades of melody and devotion.

What stands out from the repertoire is its variety without excessive dependence on the standard concert template. Rather than building the evening entirely around a large central ragam-tanam-pallavi, the programme appears to have chosen a more song-centred route, allowing the flute to inhabit several contrasting melodic worlds: Kaanada, Nilambari, Abheri, Kapi and Mand, alongside the ragamalika opening and the devotional selections.

The percussion team of Arjun Kumar, Guruprasanna G and Bharadwaj Sathavalli also gave the concert a distinctive rhythmic complement, with mridangam, kanjira and morsing forming the accompanying ensemble. The combination is capable of producing considerable textural variety while retaining the flute as the central melodic voice.

Ultimately, the appeal of an evening such as this lies not merely in ticking off a list of kritis, but in the way the repertoire creates an atmosphere. A temple, a flute, compositions invoking Krishna, Rama and the divine mother, and a concluding devotional offering together make for a concert experience that is as much about rasa and bhakti as it is about musical structure.

The choice of Sri Venugopala Krishnaswamy Temple as the venue therefore feels almost inseparable from the programme itself. The flute began with the energy of a ragamalika and travelled through the many colours of Carnatic melody before arriving at familiar devotional territory. It was, in that sense, less a concert built around a single grand musical statement and more an evening of melodic and devotional vignettes, each adding another shade to the overall experience.

A concert that leaves the listener with melodies lingering in the mind—and perhaps, in the surroundings of a Krishna temple, a little more bhakti in the heart—has accomplished something worthwhile.

2026 Aug 30 BaluRaghuram AparnaRaghuram BPraveen OmkarRao MANMF MESK

Violin: Vid. BaluRaghuram 

Violin: Vid. AparnaRaghuram 

Mridanga: Vid. BPraveen 

Ghata: Vid. OmkarRao 

Organiser / Venue : MANMF MESK

01 vanajAksha bEhAg Adi TRSubramaniam

02 brova bhAramA bahudArI dEshAdI tyAgarAjA (A, S)

03 ambA kAmAkshi bhairavi swarajathi miSra cApu shyAma shAstri (O)

04 raghunAyaka nI pAdhayUga Hamsadwani deshAdi tyAgarAja (A, S)

05 sogasugA mrudanga tALamu shrIranjani rUpakA tyAgarAja (A, S)

06 niravadhi sukhada nirmala rUpa nirjita muni shApa ravicandrikA Adi tyAgarAja

07 shrI kAntImatim hEmavati (simhavaram) Adi m.dhIkshitar (A, N, S, T)

08 sangamam kIravANi Adi USrinivasURajesh

09 tillAna karNaranjani Adi GaneshKumaresh

10 nI nAma rUpamulaku mangaLa sourAshtra Adi tyAgarAja

**Balu Raghuram & Aparna Raghuram at MANMF MESK – 30 August 2026**

Violin: Balu Raghuram & Aparna Raghuram  

Mridangam: B. Praveen  

Ghatam: Omkar Rao  

A polished violin duet that showcased clean coordination, shared imagination and a well-curated selection of kritis. The siblings maintained excellent sruti alignment and balanced the roles of lead and support fluidly throughout the evening.

The concert opened with T.R. Subramaniam’s Vanajākṣa in Behag (Adi). The piece was rendered with a bright, flowing gait; the characteristic phrases of Behag were brought out clearly in both the kriti and the brief improvisatory passages that followed.

Tyagaraja’s Brōva bhāramā in Bahudāri (Dēśādi) received a short but effective alapana. The raga’s gentle contours were sketched with care before the kriti. Swarakalpana was crisp and well-synchronised between the two violins, with neat korvais.

The centrepiece of the early half was Syama Sastri’s Ambā Kāmākṣi swarajati in Bhairavi (Miśra Cāpu). Taken with the traditional weight and dignity, the composition allowed the duo to display both melodic depth and rhythmic precision. The successive caranams were handled with clarity; the swara passages that followed were measured and tasteful.

Hamsadhvani returned with Tyagaraja’s Raghunāyaka nī pādha yuga (Dēśādi). A brief alapana highlighted the raga’s sparkling nature. Swara exchanges were lively and imaginative, the two violins engaging in quick, well-matched phrases.

Śrīranjani followed with Sogasugā mṛdanga tāḷamu (Rūpaka, Tyagaraja). The alapana was compact yet evocative; the kriti’s rhythmic play was brought out effectively, and the short swara section retained the raga’s characteristic charm.

Ravicandrikā’s Niravadhi sukhada (Adi, Tyagaraja) provided a bright interlude before the main suite.

The major item of the evening was Dikshitar’s Śrī Kāntīmatim in Hēmavati (Simhavaram, Adi). The alapana was expansive and carefully structured—phrases unfolded with good sense of proportion, the two violins alternating and blending seamlessly. Neraval at the traditional place was detailed and bhava-oriented. The ensuing swarakalpana was vigorous and well-knit, culminating in strong korvais. The tani āvartanam by B. Praveen and Omkar Rao was energetic and well-coordinated—solid sollus, clear interplay and a satisfying climax that rounded off the main suite on a high note.

Post-tani, U. Srinivas & U. Rajesh’s Sangamam in Kīravāṇi (Adi) offered a contemporary touch while remaining firmly classical in treatment. The tillana in Karṇaranjani (Adi, Ganesh-Kumaresh) was rendered with precision and sparkle. The concert closed with the customary Nī nāma rūpamulaku mangalam in Saurāṣṭra (Tyagaraja).

Bangalore Praveen provided intelligent, supportive mridangam accompaniment throughout, rising to the occasion in the tani and during the faster swara passages. Omkar Rao on the ghatam added colour and rhythmic clarity, especially in the exchanges and the tani.

Overall aesthetic: classical, well-proportioned and free of excess. The duo’s synchrony, clean bowing and shared manodharma ensured a satisfying evening of violin music.

2026 Aug 28 AbhishekRaghuram HMSmitha KishoreRamesh SunaadAnoor at Odukattur

Vocal: Vid. AbhishekRaghuram 

Violin: Vid HMSmitha 

Mridanga: Vid. KishoreRamesh 

Khanjira Vid. SunaadAnoor 

Venue : Odukattur / Janmashtami Celebrations

Song List:

01 sarasUDa ninnE kOri sAvEri Adhi kotthavAsal venkatarAma iyer

02 ninnuvinA marigalada ritigaula rUpaka syAmA shAstri (O)

04 sArasAkSha paripAlaya kAmavarDhini ChApu swAthi thirunAL (A, N, S,T)

05 viruttum

06 KaNDu kaNDu nI enna sahAna purandara dAsa

07 bhAgyAda lakshmi bAramma mAND Adi purandara dAsa

08 sukhi evvarO rAma nAma kAnada Adhi tyAgarAja

09 viruttum

10 akshaya linga vibhO svayambhO shankarAbharaNa mCApu m.dhIkshitar

Abhishek Raghuram at Odukathur — A Concert of Musical Depth and Quiet Brilliance

Some concerts impress you. Some concerts excite you. And then there are those rare concerts where, somewhere along the way, one simply stops analysing and becomes completely absorbed in the music. The concert by Abhishek Raghuram, accompanied by H. M. Smitha on violin, Kishore Ramesh on mridangam and Sunaad Anoor on Khanajira, was very much in the last category. It was an evening of remarkable musical imagination, exquisite raga bhava and an unusually compelling conversation between the four musicians.

For me, this was a 10/10 listening experience.

The programme itself was beautifully put together. There was no attempt to make the concert a parade of predictable choices. Instead, it travelled through Saveri, Ritigaula, Pantuvarali, Karnataka Devagandhari, Kannada Gandhara, Sahana, Mand, Kanada and finally Sankarabharana, with viruttams and bhajans creating natural bridges between the classical and devotional dimensions of the evening. The repertoire revealed a musician who is clearly comfortable inhabiting both the grammar and the expressive possibilities of Carnatic music.

The concert began with “Sarasuda Ninne Kori” in Saveri, composed by Kothavasal Venkatarama Iyer and set to Adi tala. Saveri is an interesting choice to open a concert: unmistakably classical, deeply rooted and capable of immediately bringing the listener into the Carnatic soundscape. The varnam made for a purposeful beginning, establishing the tonal and rhythmic foundation before the concert moved into a very different emotional territory.

The second item, Syama Sastri's “Ninnuvina Marigalada” in Ritigaula, set to Rupaka tala, brought with it an altogether different mood. Ritigaula has that fascinating ability to sound simultaneously intimate and majestic. It is a raga where the emotional character is often conveyed through the shape and weight of individual phrases rather than through overt musical drama. The choice of Syama Sastri here was particularly satisfying, and the composition provided a beautiful counterpoint to the opening Saveri.

Then came the first major raga exploration of the evening: Pantuvarali alapana, followed by Swati Tirunal's “Sarasaksha Paripalaya” in Kamavardhini, set to Chapu tala. The Pantuvarali/Kamavardhini combination opened up a much more expansive and intense musical space. This is music that does not merely decorate the raga; it asks the listener to enter it.

The alapana was an important turning point in the concert. After the structured opening pieces, the music now acquired greater freedom. Pantuvarali, with its inherent intensity and almost incandescent quality, is particularly suited to a vocalist with Abhishek's expansive musical personality. What followed in “Sarasaksha Paripalaya” gave the raga a compositional framework while retaining the sense of openness created by the alapana.

The tani avartanam followed, bringing the rhythmic spotlight onto Kishore Ramesh and Sunaad Anoor. The mridangam and Khanjira combination added a fascinating layer to the concert. The percussion was not simply functioning as an accompaniment to the vocalist; it became another voice in the larger musical conversation. The presence of both instruments allowed the rhythmic texture to acquire additional colour and dimension.

The concert then took a particularly interesting turn with a viruttam, leading into Purandara Dasa's “Kandu Kandu Nee Enna” in Sahana.

This was one of the most aesthetically pleasing transitions of the evening. Sahana is a raga of extraordinary emotional delicacy. It does not need flamboyance to make an impact. Its appeal lies in its tenderness, poignancy and ability to suggest a great deal through apparently simple melodic movement. Purandara Dasa's devotional poetry sits beautifully within this framework. The combination created an intimate atmosphere, almost as though the concert had temporarily stepped away from the formal concert stage and entered the world of personal devotion.

The next item, “Bhagyada Lakshmi Baramma” in Mand, again by Purandara Dasa, continued the devotional thread. Mand brings an appealing lightness and folk-inflected charm, and the transition from Sahana to Mand was wonderfully natural. Here was another example of the programme's intelligent pacing: rather than sustaining one emotional intensity indefinitely, it allowed the mood to soften and brighten.

One could almost sense the concert changing colour with every major selection.

The next major item was Tyagaraja's “Sukhi Evvaro Rama Nama” in Kanada, set to Adi tala. Kanada is a raga that can be extraordinarily rewarding in the hands of an imaginative musician. It carries a certain depth and maturity, and Tyagaraja's composition gives it an especially appropriate devotional vehicle. The choice also brought the concert back from the lighter devotional Mand into a more substantial classical mood.

Another viruttam followed, providing yet another moment of freedom before the final major composition of the evening.

The concluding piece was Muthuswami Dikshitar's “Akshaya Linga Vibho Swayambho” in Sankarabharana, set to Misra Chapu. What an appropriate way to bring such a concert towards its conclusion. Sankarabharana is foundational, expansive and seemingly inexhaustible, yet Dikshitar's composition reveals its grandeur through a highly crafted classical architecture. After the succession of contrasting ragas earlier in the concert, returning to Sankarabharana at the end had a sense of arrival.

What I particularly enjoyed about the programme was the balance between discovery and familiarity. Saveri, Ritigaula and Sankarabharana are deeply familiar territories to the seasoned rasika, while Karnataka Devagandhari, Kannada Gandhara and the particular combinations in the programme offered opportunities for exploration. The devotional selections by Purandara Dasa and the viruttams provided further contrast.

And this is where Abhishek's musical personality becomes so engaging.

There is an extraordinary restlessness of musical imagination in his singing—not restlessness in the sense of impatience, but a sense that the music is continually searching for another possibility. This quality has been noted by rasikas over the years: his performances can carry tremendous energy and an abundance of ideas, sometimes creating an almost exhilarating sense of musical momentum.

Yet what makes this concert especially satisfying is that the imagination is being channelled through a repertoire that offers plenty of room for bhava, melodic nuance and repose.

The accompanists deserve equal appreciation. H. M. Smitha provided the violin voice with sensitivity and musical attentiveness, making the violin an integral part of the concert rather than a parallel performance. Kishore Ramesh on mridangam and Sunaad Anoor on Khanjira brought considerable rhythmic vitality to the proceedings. The ensemble clearly had the ingredients for the kind of spontaneous musical exchange that can elevate a concert beyond a sequence of individual performances.

What stayed with me most was the sense of musical continuity. The concert did not feel like eleven disconnected items. The varnam led into the kritis; the alapana opened larger melodic spaces; the tani created a rhythmic punctuation; the viruttams provided moments of contemplative freedom; and the Purandara Dasa compositions brought the devotional dimension into sharper focus. Even the final Sankarabharana felt like part of a larger journey.

There was also something wonderfully unpretentious about the overall repertoire. The concert did not appear to be constructed merely to showcase virtuosity. Of course, a musician of Abhishek's calibre possesses formidable technical resources, but technique here seemed to serve the larger purpose of musical expression. The best moments in a concert are not necessarily the ones that make the audience gasp; sometimes they are the ones that quietly make the listener lean forward.

This evening had many such moments.

It reminded me why live Carnatic music can be such an extraordinary experience. A recording can preserve notes, phrases and compositions, but a live concert captures something more elusive—the collective concentration of vocalist, violinist, percussionists and audience. A good concert creates its own atmosphere, and a great one makes that atmosphere difficult to leave behind.

This was, for me, a deeply immersive and richly rewarding concert. The music was vibrant without becoming merely demonstrative, contemplative without becoming languid, and traditional without becoming predictable. The repertoire allowed Abhishek Raghuram to move across a remarkable spectrum of Carnatic expression, while the accompaniment provided a strong and sensitive musical foundation.

The final Sankarabharana left the evening with a feeling of quiet completeness. One came away not with the sense that a concert had simply ended, but that a particularly rewarding musical journey had reached its natural destination.

Abhishek Raghuram, H. M. Smitha, Kishore Ramesh and Sunaad Anoor gave us an evening where melody, rhythm, poetry and devotion came together with exceptional coherence.

For a rasika, there is little more one can ask for.

10/10. A memorable concert. A truly absorbing listening experience.

2026 Aug 29 TMKrishna HKVenkatram KArunPrakash SunilKumar @ Odukattur

Vocal: Vid. TMKrishna 

Violin: Vid. HKVenkatram 

Mridanga: Vid. KArunPrakash 

Khanjira: Vid. SunilKumar 

01 shankari nIve bEgaDe rUpaka subbarAya shAstri

02 rAga tAna pUrvikalyANi MukhAri

03 chinna nADenA chEyi kalAnidhi Adhi tyAgarAja

04 karnATaka dEvagAndhAri AlApane

05 shrI tuLasamma mayinta nelakonavamma dEvagAndhAri Adi tyAgarAja

06 shankaram sharanAgata vatsalam kannaDa gAndhAra Adi RKSK (A, N, S, T)

07 sAvare aijiyyo yamunA kinAre miSra khamAj mIra bhajan

08 enna thavam shaidhanai kApi Adhi pApanAsham shivan

09 vaishNava janatO Mishra khamAj Adi Narsi Mehta

A Mesmerising Evening of Musical Conversation

There are concerts that one listens to, and then there are concerts that one experiences. The concert by T. M. Krishna, with H. K. Venkatram on violin, K. Arun Prakash on mridangam and Sunil Kumar on the Khanjira, belonged unmistakably to the latter category. It was a deeply absorbing evening in which music seemed to unfold organically, without the feeling of being driven towards a predetermined destination. The four musicians brought together formidable musical experience, individuality and sensitivity, resulting in a performance that was both intellectually stimulating and emotionally compelling. For a rasika, it was the kind of concert in which one gradually stops keeping track of time and simply surrenders to the music.

The opening “Shankari Neeve” in Begada, composed by Subbaraya Shastri and set to Rupaka tala, immediately established the character of the evening. Begada is a raga whose personality can be easily diminished when approached merely as a collection of familiar phrases. In the hands of a sensitive musician, however, its unmistakable grandeur, grace and slightly elusive character emerge naturally. The opening kriti provided a dignified entry into the concert, and the choice of Subbaraya Shastri was itself a lovely reminder of the extraordinary richness of the Carnatic compositional tradition beyond the most frequently performed repertoire.

What followed was a substantial exploration of Purvikalyani, with raga and tana, followed by Tyagaraja's “Chinna Nadena Cheyi” in Kalanidhi, set to Adi tala. The transition from the evocative world of Begada to the expansive emotional territory of Purvikalyani gave the concert an entirely different dimension. Purvikalyani has a naturally searching quality; it can sound luminous one moment and intensely introspective the next. The raga-tana presentation provided the first major opportunity for the evening to breathe expansively, and the subsequent kriti brought the music back from abstraction into the structured world of composition.

The concert then entered one of its most rewarding phases with the Karnataka Devagandhari alapana. This was followed by Tyagaraja's “Sri Tulasamma Mayinta Nelakonavamma” in Karnataka Devagandhari, set to Adi tala. The choice was exquisite. Karnataka Devagandhari possesses a distinctive emotional fragrance, and its appeal lies partly in the subtlety of its identity. It does not demand attention through sheer dramatic force; rather, it draws the listener inward through its gentle, poignant contours. The alapana and the kriti together formed a particularly satisfying musical pairing, allowing the raga to be encountered first in its unrestrained melodic form and then through the composer's carefully fashioned creation.

One of the pleasures of a concert of this calibre is noticing how deliberately the musical landscape changes without ever feeling fragmented. The movement from Karnataka Devagandhari to Kannada Gandhara created precisely such a moment. Another alapana opened up this distinctive raga, followed by “Shankaram Sharanagata Vatsalam” in Kannada Gandhara, an Adi tala composition of R. K. Srikantan's repertoire. Here again, the choice was compelling. Instead of relying entirely on the familiar raga-kriti combinations that dominate many concert programmes, the presentation gave space to less routinely encountered musical colours.

Kannada Gandhara, with its unusual melodic personality, seemed particularly well suited to a concert that valued exploration and listening rather than predictability. The juxtaposition of the two alapana segments—Karnataka Devagandhari and Kannada Gandhara—was one of the programme's most thoughtful features. They demonstrated how two comparatively less commonplace raga worlds can create very different shades of emotion and atmosphere. It was a reminder that the Carnatic tradition is at its most fascinating when its vast repertoire is allowed to breathe.

The tani avartanam that followed brought the rhythmic dimension of the concert into sharp focus. With K. Arun Prakash on mridangam and Sunil Kumar on Khanjira, the percussion combination had an impressive breadth of sonic possibility. The tani was not merely an interlude between the main musical sections; it represented the independent vitality of laya within the larger architecture of the concert. The rhythmic dialogue between mridangam and Khanjira added another layer to an evening that had already moved through several contrasting melodic landscapes.

The post-tani portion took an entirely different turn with the Mirabai bhajan “Savare Aijiyyo Yamuna Kinare” in Mishra Khamaj. This was a particularly natural transition. After the density and sophistication of the preceding Carnatic presentation, the bhajan opened up a more direct devotional space. Mishra Khamaj, with its graceful mixture of classical structure and expressive accessibility, provided an ideal vehicle for this shift. The atmosphere became more intimate, and the devotional character of the composition allowed the music to communicate without the need for elaborate musical architecture.

Then came Papanasam Sivan's “Enna Tavam Seithanai” in Kapi, in Adi tala. This was perhaps one of those moments where the familiar can become newly meaningful. Kapi is a raga of extraordinary emotional versatility, and Papanasam Sivan's composition carries an unmistakable devotional tenderness. Coming after the Mirabai bhajan, the choice created a beautiful continuity of bhava. The concert had moved from the sophisticated architecture of raga and tala towards the more direct language of devotion, but without compromising musical depth.

The final item, “Vaishnava Janato” in Mishra Khamaj, set to Adi tala and attributed to Narsi Mehta, brought the evening to a deeply evocative close. The placement of this bhajan at the conclusion felt particularly apt. It did not attempt to end the concert with a spectacular flourish; instead, it left the listener in a contemplative and devotional space. The final impression was therefore not one of exhaustion after a long musical journey, but of having arrived somewhere quiet and inward.

What made the concert particularly memorable was the way T. M. Krishna's musical personality interacted with the exceptional calibre of his accompanists. H. K. Venkatram is an accompanist with a remarkable ability to inhabit the music rather than merely follow it. The violin becomes a conversational voice, capable of reflecting, complementing and enriching the central melodic line. K. Arun Prakash brings to the mridangam an extraordinary combination of authority and sensitivity, while Sunil Kumar's khanjira added a complementary rhythmic colour to the ensemble.

But perhaps the most important quality of the evening was its sense of musical freedom. There was no impression that the concert was simply moving through a checklist of items. Each raga and composition seemed to have its own space and character. Begada gave way to Purvikalyani; Purvikalyani yielded to Kalanidhi; Karnataka Devagandhari opened another window; Kannada Gandhara offered a less familiar but fascinating landscape; and the final sequence gradually moved towards the devotional intimacy of Mishra Khamaj and Kapi.

This is where Krishna's approach to concert-making becomes particularly engaging. The programme did not seem designed merely to satisfy expectations. Instead, it invited the listener to travel with the musicians. Familiarity and discovery sat comfortably beside each other. The compositions were not simply vehicles to be crossed off a list; they became points of entry into different emotional and musical worlds.

There was also something wonderfully unhurried and contemplative about the overall progression. Even where the music was technically demanding, the larger experience remained spacious. That spaciousness is precious in a concert setting. It allows the rasika to listen not only to the notes but also to the silences, the pauses, the transitions and the subtle changes in mood. The music acquires a life beyond the printed programme.

The programme itself deserves appreciation for its imaginative curation. Beginning with Subbaraya Shastri and moving through Purvikalyani, Kalanidhi, Karnataka Devagandhari, Kannada Gandhara and finally into the world of Mirabai, Papanasam Sivan and Narsi Mehta, it presented Carnatic music not as a rigid succession of standardised items but as a living continuum. There was tradition here, but there was also curiosity. There was scholarship, but there was also spontaneity. Most importantly, there was bhava.

For me, the concert was an unequivocal 10/10 listening experience. The rating is not simply a comment on technical excellence—which, at this level of musicianship, almost goes without saying. It is a reflection of something more difficult to quantify: the ability of music to hold one's attention completely, to provoke thought, to evoke emotion and ultimately to leave a residue that remains long after the final note has disappeared.

A memorable concert need not necessarily overwhelm. Sometimes its greatness lies in the manner in which it quietly occupies the mind. This evening did exactly that. The ragas continued to linger, the compositions acquired renewed resonance, and the interplay between melody and rhythm remained vivid in memory.

In an age where the temptation can sometimes be to measure a concert by the number of items, the length of an alapana or the brilliance of a particular swara sequence, this performance offered a more enduring measure: Did the music make you listen? Did it make you feel? Did it make you think? Did it leave you wanting to hear it again?

The answer, unequivocally, was yes.

It was a rich, refined, evocative and deeply satisfying evening of Carnatic music—one where four accomplished musicians created not merely a concert, but a sustained musical conversation. And for those fortunate enough to have been present, it was the kind of evening that one does not simply remember as having attended; one remembers it as having lived through the music.

2026 Aug 16 RamakrishnanMurthy VittalRangan NCBharadwaj VKrishnaKumar @ Odukattur

Vocal: Ramakrishnan Murthy  

Violin: Vittal Rangan  

Mridangam: N.C. Bharadwaj  

Kanjira: V. Krishna Kumar  

01 vIribONi varNa bhairavi khaNDa aTa pachchimiriam Adiappayya

02 sAmaja varadA shuddhasAvEri rUpaka pUchi srInivAsa IyengAr

03 sUryamUrtE namOstute saurAshtra CDhruva Navagraha m.dIkshitar

04 nija marmamulanu umAbharaNa Adi tyAgarAja (A, S)

05 sArasAkSha paripAlaya kAmavarDhini ChApu swAthi thirunAL (A, S)

06 karuNA samudra nanu dEvagAndhAri Adi tyAgarAja (A, S)

07 brindAvana lOla tODi rUpaka tyAgarAja

08 shrI subrahmaNyAya namastE kAmbOdhi Adix m.dIkshitar (A, N, S, T)

09 dEvaki nandana nanda mukundana bhAgEshrI purandara dAsa

10 viruttum in bhairavi varALi nILAmbari

11 iLamarimAn nayane jAvaLi bEhAg swAti thirunAL

12 Tom Tom Tadhara pUrNachandrika tillAna Adi Poochi Srinivasa Iyengar

13 nAdi tEdi tiruppugazh bAgEshiri aruNagirinAdhar

14 nI nAma rUpamulaku mangaLa sourAshtra Adi tyAgarAja

A brilliant concert lasting a little over 3 hours 15 minutes. Ramakrishnan Murthy was in full form, voice pliant, sruti-suddha and carrying that characteristic sheen that has become his hallmark. The concert had excellent pacing, a well-thought-out selection of kritis spanning different composers and talas, and ample manodharma without ever feeling rushed or padded.

He began with the khaṇḍa aṭa tāla varṇam vīribōṇi in Bhairavi (Pacchimiriam Adiyappayya). The varṇam was rendered with clarity and good weight in the muktāyis; the unusual anubandham passages already hinted at the energy that would mark the evening.

Sāmaja varadā in Śuddhasāvēri (Rūpaka, Poochi Srinivasa Iyengar) followed, a bright and crisp piece that settled the audience nicely. 

The Navagraha kriti Sūryamūrtē namōstute in Saurāṣṭra (Chaturasra Dhruva, Muthuswami Dikshitar) was taken at a measured pace; the raga’s character came through well in the limited space it was given.

The first substantial alapana of the evening was in Umābharaṇa. Ramakrishnan Murthy sketched the raga with clean phrases and a sense of architecture before presenting Tyagaraja’s Nija marmamulanu (Adi). The kriti was handled with care; the few rounds of swaras were well-knit.

Pantuvarāḷi (Kāmavardhini) alapana came next – expansive, with the characteristic oscillations and the raga’s inherent pathos brought out without exaggeration. Swathi Thirunal’s Sārasākṣa paripālaya in Chapu was the vehicle. Neraval and swara exchanges here were lively; Vittal Rangan’s replies were precise and complementary.

Devagāndhāri received a detailed alapana. The raga’s bright yet contemplative nature was explored with good phrases in the upper reaches and careful use of the characteristic prayogas. Tyagaraja’s Karuṇā samudra nanu (Adi) followed. The rendering had both bhava and technical polish; the swara kalpana, especially the concluding korvais, were tightly constructed and drew appreciative responses from the audience.

A shorter but effective Brindāvana lōla in Tōḍi (Rūpaka, Tyagaraja) served as a pleasant interlude before the main suite.

Kāmbhōji was the centrepiece. The alapana was leisurely and richly detailed – the raga’s grandeur unfolded gradually, with well-placed long phrases, imaginative sancharas around the pivotal notes, and a satisfying ascent into the tara sthayi. Vittal Rangan’s reply was equally absorbing, matching the vocalist in both depth and imagination. Dikshitar’s Śrī Subrahmaṇyāya namastē (Adi) was the chosen kriti. Neraval at the traditional place was expansive and bhava-laden; the swara kalpana that followed was vigorous, with interesting combinations and a strong sense of laya. 

The tani āvartanam by N.C. Bharadwaj and V. Krishna Kumar was of high quality – well-structured, with good interplay, crisp sollus and a satisfying finale that brought the main suite to a close on a high note.

The post-tani section maintained the momentum. Purandara Dasa’s Dēvaki nandana nanda mukundana in Bhāgēśrī was rendered with feeling. A viruttam moving through Bhairavi, Varāḷi and Nīlāmbarī provided a nice ragamalika interlude. Swathi Thirunal’s iḷamarimān nayane (Jāvaḷi, Behag) was sung with the required lightness and charm. The tillana in Pūrṇacandrikā (Adi, Poochi Srinivasa Iyengar) was energetic and cleanly executed. 

Arunagirinathar’s Tiruppugazh Nāḍi tēḍi in Bhāgēśrī and the customary Nī nāma rūpamulaku mangalam in Saurāṣṭra (Tyagaraja) brought the concert to a graceful close.

Vittal Rangan was an ideal accompanist throughout – attentive, imaginative in his replies, and never overpowering. N.C. Bharadwaj provided solid, intelligent support on the mridangam, rising to the occasion in the tani and in the swara passages. V. Krishna Kumar on the kanjira added colour and precision, especially in the faster passages and the tani.

Overall aesthetic: classical, unhurried, and deeply satisfying. Ramakrishnan Murthy’s command over both the kalpita and kalpana aspects was evident, and the concert never lost its sense of proportion or raga bhava. A memorable evening of high-quality music.

2026 Aug15 TrichurBrothers SJanardhan TrichurMohan KovaiSuresh @ Odukattur

Vocal: Trichur Brothers (Srikrishna Mohan & Ramkumar Mohan)  

Violin: Vid. SJanardhan 

Mridanga: Vid. TrichurMohan 

Ghata: Vid. KovaiSuresh 

Venue / Occasion : Odukattur - Janmashtami Celebrations

Song list

01 vIribONi varNa bhairavi khaNDa aTa pachchimiriam Adiappayya

02 vara vallabha ramaNa hamsadhvani Adi GN bAlasubramanian

03 mOsabOku vinavE satsahavAsamu gauLipantu Adi tyAgarAja

04 karuNA chaivAnendhu yadhukula kAmbOdhi Adi iriyathaman thampi

05 niravadhi sukhada nirmala rUpa nirjita muni shApa ravicandrikA Adi tyAgarAja

06 harihara putram vasanta khaNDaEka m.dIikshitar (A, N, S, T)

07 vande bhAratAmbe rItigauLa Adi COMPOSER

08 rAga tAna pallavi kApi khaNDa triputa 2 Kalai , 2 beats after samam

09 viruttum nanmayum shelvamum rEvati

10 rAghava sundara rAma raghuvara rEvati

11 bhAgyAda lakshmi bAramma madhyamAvathi Adi p.dAsa

12 shlOka medley

A well-structured concert that showcased the Brothers’ characteristic blend of precision, shared manodharma and clear enunciation. The presentation maintained good balance between kalpita and kalpana segments, with thoughtful kriti choices and solid support from the accompanists.

The concert opened with the khaṇḍa aṭa tāla varṇam  vīribōṇi in Bhairavi (Pacchimiriam Adiyappayya). Rendered with clean articulation and steady tempo, it set a firm classical foundation; the muktāyi swaras were crisply delivered.

G.N. Balasubramaniam’s Vara vallabha ramaṇa in Hamsadhvani (Adi) followed at a lively pace. The kriti sparkled with its characteristic brightness, and a few rounds of swarakalpana added energy without excess.

Tyagaraja’s Mōsabōku vinavē in Gauḷipantu (Adi) brought a change of mood. The Brothers handled the raga’s distinctive flavour with care, the sahitya coming through with clarity. 

Irayimman Thampi’s Karuṇā chaivānendhu in Yadukulakāmbhōji (Adi) was taken next—an attractive choice that allowed the raga’s languid beauty to emerge. The rendering was measured and bhava-oriented.

Tyagaraja’s Niravadhi sukhada in Ravicandrikā (Adi) provided a bright interlude before the main suite. The kriti’s flowing gait suited the Brothers well; short swara passages kept the momentum lively.

Vasantha was the chosen raga for the major alapana. The Brothers built the raga systematically, exploring its characteristic phrases and the interplay of the two voices with good understanding. The alapana had both breadth and focus, avoiding unnecessary elaboration. Dikshitar’s Harihara putram in khaṇḍa ēka was the vehicle. The kriti was rendered with dignity; neraval and subsequent swara kalpana were well-coordinated between the two vocalists, with Janardhan offering precise and imaginative replies. 

The tani āvartanam by Trichur Mohan and Kovai Suresh was compact yet satisfying—solid sollus, good interplay and a clean finish that rounded off the main suite effectively.

Post-tani, Vande Bhāratāmbe in Rītigauḷa (Adi) offered a pleasant change of pace. 

The RTP in Kāpi formed the intellectual centre of the latter half. Rāga and tāna were elaborated with clarity and shared imagination; the Brothers moved easily between phrases while maintaining the raga’s identity. The pallavi in khaṇḍa tripuṭa (2-kalai, eduppu two beats after samam) was taken with confidence. Trikāla and a few rounds of kalpanaswaras, including brief forays into related ragas, were handled cleanly. Janardhan’s contributions in both the tāna and swara sections were noteworthy for their fidelity and creativity.

A viruttam in Rēvati (Nanmayum shelvamum) led naturally into Rāghava sundara rāma raghuvara in the same raga. The short piece was sung with feeling. 

Purandara Dasa’s Bhāgyāda lakshmi bārama in Madhyamāvathi (Adi) brought the expected auspicious close to the main sequence, rendered with the traditional warmth. 

A brief śloka medley provided a fitting conclusion.

S. Janardhan provided consistent, attentive support throughout—his raga essays and swara replies were marked by good sruti alignment and tasteful imagination. Trichur Mohan on the mridangam offered experienced, understated accompaniment that never overpowered the vocals, rising appropriately during the tani and swara passages. Kovai Suresh on the ghatam added colour and precision, especially in the faster exchanges and the tani.

Overall aesthetic: classical, well-proportioned and free of excess. The Brothers’ synchronised approach and clear delivery ensured that both the compositional and improvisational elements remained accessible and satisfying. A solid, enjoyable concert.

2026 May 24 VishnudevKS HMSmitha HSSudheendra OmkarGRao NavaMantralaya

Vocal: Vid. VishnudevKS 

Violin: Vid. HMSmitha 

Mridanga: Vid. HSSudheendra 

Ghata: Vid. OmkarGRao 

Venue : NavaMantralaya / Adhikamasa

01 jaya jaya ramAnAtha nATa k.cApu nArAyaNa tIrtha

02 nAda lOluDai kalyANavasantha Adi tyAgarAja (A)

03 manavi nAlakicha rAdhaTE naLinakAnthi Adhi tyAgarAja (S)

04 lalitE shrI pravrddhE bhairavi Adi tyAgarAja (N, S)

05 bhajare rE mAnasA abhEri c thripuTa MysUru VAsudhEvAchAr (A, S, T)

06 bArO krishNayya mAND Adhi kanaka dhAsa (O)

07 bhajarE yadunAtham pIlu Adi sadAshiva brahmEndra

08 Bharase Bhajariya shudda sArang EkaTala MeeraBhajan

09 manda matiyo nAnu durgA Jhampa p.dAsa

10 Chandra chUDa Shiva Shankara pArvati darbArikAnaDa Adi purandara dAsa

11 rangapura vihAra brundhAvanasAranga rUpaka m dhIkShithar

A Blockbuster Second Concert — Vishnudev K. S. at Nava Mantralaya

A second concert by the same main artist on the same day is always a different proposition. The voice, the imagination and the artistic resources have already been called upon once, and yet the evening demands another complete musical statement. To deliver a concert that feels fresh, purposeful and engaging under those circumstances is no small achievement. Vid. Vishnudev K. S.'s second concert of the day at Nava Mantralaya , accompanied by Vid. H. M. Smitha, Vid. H. S. Sudheendra and Vid. Omkar G. Rao, was, by all accounts, a blockbuster—a concert that combined an expansive repertoire with an unmistakably devotional spirit and a wonderfully varied musical palette.

The programme itself was ambitious. Twelve items took the listener through Naṭa, Kalyanavasantha, Nalinakanti, Bhairavi, Abheri, Mand, Pilu, Shuddha Sarang, Durga, Darbari Kanada and Brindavanasaranga. The composers and poets represented an equally broad spectrum: Narayana Teertha, Tyagaraja, Mysore Vasudevacharya, Kanakadasa, Sadashiva Brahmendra, Mirabai, Purandara Dasa and Muthuswami Dikshitar. It was a programme that seemed to have one foot firmly in the classical concert tradition and the other in the deeply devotional musical culture of the Bhakti movement.

The opening “Jaya Jaya Ramanatha” in Nata, set to Khanda Chapu and attributed to Narayana Teertha, immediately established an energetic devotional character. Nata possesses a natural grandeur and brightness, and Khanda Chapu brings an additional rhythmic vitality. As an opening item, it provided an effective invocation while setting a lively pulse for the long musical journey ahead.

The second selection, Tyagaraja's “Nada Loludai” in Kalyanavasantha, set to Adi tala, changed the melodic atmosphere considerably. Kalyanavasantha has a distinctive emotional colour, and its appearance so early in the programme demonstrated that this was not going to be a concert confined to the predictable raga circuit. The programme was already signalling an interest in melodic variety.

Tyagaraja's “Manavi Nalakicharadate” in Nalinakanti, also in Adi tala, followed. Nalinakanti brings an altogether different energy to the concert. Its bright, agile personality provides a striking contrast to the more meditative colours of Kalyanavasantha. The first three compositions therefore created a particularly effective opening sequence—Nata, Kalyanavasantha and Nalinakanti, each contributing a distinct shade.

Then came the formidable “Lalite Sri Pravrdhe” in Bhairavi, another Tyagaraja composition in Adi tala. Bhairavi inevitably changes the weight of a concert. It is one of those ragas whose very name carries an enormous musical history. It can accommodate grandeur, pathos, devotion and intricate melodic exploration, and its inclusion after three contrasting opening pieces brought a sense of classical gravitas.

The concert then opened up further with an Abheri alapana, followed by Mysore Vasudevacharya's “Bhajare Re Manasa” in Abheri, set to Chaturasra Triputa. This was an important point in the concert because the alapana gave Abheri an independent identity before the composition entered the picture.

Abheri has a natural warmth and accessibility that makes it particularly attractive in a concert setting. The raga can evoke tenderness without becoming overly sentimental, and its expressive possibilities lend themselves beautifully to devotional compositions. The choice of Mysore Vasudevacharya here also broadened the compositional landscape beyond the dominant Tyagaraja presence of the first half.

From Abheri, the programme moved into “Baro Krishnayya” in Mand, set to Adi tala, by Kanakadasa. This was an especially apt transition. The Kannada devotional tradition entered the programme through one of its most beloved voices, and Mand brought a lighter, graceful melodic colour after the substantial Abheri presentation.

The Krishna-bhakti thread continued with “Bhajare Yadunatham” in Pilu, set to Adi tala and attributed to Sadashiva Brahmendra. Pilu is particularly effective in devotional music because of its fluid and accessible melodic character. The succession of Mand and Pilu created a distinctly devotional middle-to-late section, but with sufficient melodic contrast to keep the programme continually changing colour.

Then came the Mirabai bhajan “Bharase Bhajariya” in Shuddha Sarang, set to Eka tala. The inclusion of a Mirabai composition further expanded the devotional geography of the concert. After the South Indian bhakti voices of Kanakadasa and Sadashiva Brahmendra, the poetry of Mirabai brought another dimension to the same larger devotional impulse.

At this point, the programme had moved a considerable distance from its opening. What began with the energetic Nata of Narayana Teertha had gradually become an increasingly devotional sequence—Krishna, Rama and the yearning voice of bhakti appearing in different melodic forms.

Purandara Dasa returned with “Manda Matiyo Nanu” in Durga, set to Jhampa tala. Durga itself provides yet another change of colour. The raga's compact and distinctive melodic personality gives the composition a different character from the preceding bhajans. The choice also continued the strong representation of Kannada devotional repertoire in the programme.

The next item, Purandara Dasa's “Chandra Chuda Shiva Shankara Parvati” in Darbari Kanada, set to Adi tala, brought Shiva into the devotional narrative. This was a particularly attractive programming decision. Until this point, much of the devotional repertoire had centred on Rama and Krishna; this composition broadened the devotional canvas to Shiva.

Darbari Kanada also introduced a darker and more introspective shade into the programme. Its distinctive gravitas made it an effective vehicle for the composition, and its placement towards the end of the concert gave the programme another substantial change of mood.

The final major composition was Muthuswami Dikshitar's “Rangapura Vihara” in Brindavanasaranga, set to Rupaka tala. What a beautiful raga and composition with which to bring such an evening towards its conclusion.

Brindavanasaranga carries an unmistakable devotional luminosity, and Dikshitar's “Rangapura Vihara” is deeply associated with the devotional imagery of Lord Ranganatha. After the varied devotional journey through Kanakadasa, Sadashiva Brahmendra, Mirabai and Purandara Dasa, returning to the highly crafted world of Dikshitar made the concluding selection feel both musically substantial and spiritually appropriate.

There is something especially satisfying about examining the architecture of this programme as a whole. It begins with Nata, moves through Kalyanavasantha and Nalinakanti, arrives at the weight of Bhairavi, expands through Abheri, and then gradually turns towards devotional repertoire through Mand, Pilu and Shuddha Sarang. Durga and Darbari Kanada add further colours before the programme culminates in Brindavanasaranga.

The result is a concert that seems to move from classical assertion towards devotional surrender.

And that is perhaps what makes the description “blockbuster” particularly apt—not necessarily because of spectacle, but because of the sheer richness of the musical experience. A blockbuster concert in the best sense is one that gives the listener multiple points of engagement: familiar compositions, unusual repertoire, varied ragas, different rhythmic structures and, above all, a sense of emotional progression.

This programme had all of those elements.

Another remarkable aspect is the representation of composers. Tyagaraja dominates the opening classical section, but the programme subsequently makes room for Narayana Teertha, Mysore Vasudevacharya, Kanakadasa, Sadashiva Brahmendra, Mirabai, Purandara Dasa and Muthuswami Dikshitar. That diversity gives the concert considerable historical and cultural breadth.

It also reflects something fundamental about Indian classical music: the repertoire is not merely a collection of compositions but a vast network of devotional and poetic traditions. The same spiritual impulse can emerge through radically different melodic languages, and this concert appeared to revel in that diversity.

The presence of H. M. Smitha, H. S. Sudheendra and Omkar G. Rao completed the ensemble. In a programme of this breadth, accompaniment is not simply supportive; it has to adapt continuously to the changing demands of each raga, composition and tala. The range of the repertoire itself creates a demanding musical environment for the accompanists, and the ensemble format allowed the concert to move comfortably between the weightier classical compositions and the more accessible devotional pieces.

What is particularly striking is that this was the second concert of the day for the main artist. That fact changes one's appreciation of the performance. A second concert cannot simply rely on the momentum of the first. It requires renewed concentration and the ability to inhabit another repertoire afresh. The sheer breadth of this programme makes the accomplishment even more noteworthy.

The concert also avoided the trap of making the second performance feel like an abbreviated repeat or an afterthought. Twelve items represent a substantial musical offering in their own right. The repertoire had its own identity and its own emotional trajectory.

There is a lovely cumulative quality to the latter half. Mand, Pilu and Shuddha Sarang gradually make the music more intimate; Durga and Darbari Kanada add depth; and Brindavanasaranga provides the final devotional glow. By the time “Rangapura Vihara” arrives, the listener has already travelled through a remarkable succession of devotional landscapes.

That sense of journey is what stayed with me.

The programme was rich without being cluttered, devotional without becoming predictable, and classical without becoming austere. Its greatest strength lay in its variety—the ability to move from one raga and compositional tradition to another while retaining a coherent emotional thread.

There are concerts one remembers because of one spectacular raga. There are concerts remembered for a particularly brilliant RTP. And there are concerts remembered because, item after item, they kept offering something worthwhile.

This felt like the third kind.

For a rasika, the joy was in the constant change of scenery: the vigour of Nata, the elegance of Kalyanavasantha, the sparkle of Nalinakanti, the majesty of Bhairavi, the warmth of Abheri, the charm of Mand, the devotional fluidity of Pilu, the luminosity of Shuddha Sarang, the distinctive character of Durga, the depth of Darbari Kanada and finally the serene devotional appeal of Brindavanasaranga.

Vishnudev K. S., H. M. Smitha, H. S. Sudheendra and Omkar G. Rao delivered what can aptly be described as a blockbuster second concert of the day—an expansive, colourful and deeply satisfying musical offering.

The programme demonstrated not only the breadth of the Carnatic repertoire but also the extraordinary possibilities that emerge when classical music and bhakti are allowed to converse naturally.

The final “Rangapura Vihara” left the evening with precisely the right aftertaste: devotional, luminous and lingering.

A concert of remarkable repertoire, striking melodic variety, strong musical architecture and abundant devotional warmth.

And for the listener fortunate enough to be there, quite simply—a blockbuster.

2026 May 23 JayanthiKumaresh ArjunKumar PramathKiran @ NavaMantralaya

JayanthiKumaresh 

ArjunKumar 

PramathKiran 

NavaMantralaya

01 vAtApi gaNapatim bhajEham hamsadhvani Adi m.dIkshitar (A)

02 brOchEvA revarurA kAmAch Adi mysUru vAsudhEvAchAr

03 pAlaya gOvinda gAnamUrti Adi GanapatiSachhidAnandaSwamiji

04 raghuvara nannu kAmavarDhini Adhi tyAgarAja (A, S)

06 muddugArE yashOda janjhUTi Adi aNNamAchArya

07 pavanaja stuti pAtra kuranji K Chapu tyAgarAja

08 AbhEri Sindhubhairavi - Dual raga AlApane

09 tambUri mITidava bhavAbdhi dATidava sindhubhairavi eka p.dAsa

10 miSra Shivaranjani tillAna Adi LGJ

11 mangaLa madhyamAvati medley

When the Veena Became a Voice

There are concerts in which the instrument is heard, and there are concerts in which the instrument seems to speak. The veena, perhaps more than any other Carnatic instrument, has the ability to inhabit that space between voice and pure instrumental sound. In the hands of an accomplished artiste, a phrase can acquire the weight of a sung line, a gamaka can seem to carry the emotion of a word, and silence itself can become part of the musical expression.

Vid. Jayanthi Kumaresh concert at Nava Mantralaya, accompanied by Vid. Arjun Kumar on mridangam and Vid. Pramath Kiran on percussion, was a wonderful demonstration of this expressive potential. The programme was carefully balanced, moving from the sparkling architecture of Hamsadhwani and the classical richness of Khamas and Kamavardhini to the more contemplative worlds of Kuranji, Abheri and Sindhubhairavi. By the time the concert reached the tillana and the concluding Madhyamavati medley, the evening had travelled through a remarkably broad emotional landscape.

The opening “Vatapi Ganapatim Bhajeh̄am” in Hamsadhwani, by Muthuswami Dikshitar, set to Adi tala and preceded by alapana, was an immediately appropriate beginning. Hamsadhwani has a natural brilliance and an unmistakable ability to energise a concert from its very first phrase. Dikshitar's composition, meanwhile, gives the raga a weight and grandeur that prevents the opening from becoming merely celebratory.

The choice was especially apt for the veena. Hamsadhwani's clean melodic contours allow the instrument's clarity to come through, while the gamaka-rich treatment of the composition provides ample scope for the distinctive voice of the veena. The opening alapana established the raga before the kriti, allowing the concert to begin not simply with a composition but with a statement of melodic identity.

The second item, “Brochevarevarura” in Khamas, by Mysore Vasudevacharya, brought a contrasting mood. Khamas has an extraordinary combination of elegance, charm and expressive flexibility. The movement from Hamsadhwani to Khamas therefore changed the atmosphere without disturbing the momentum established by the opening.

Mysore Vasudevacharya's compositions are particularly rewarding in a concert such as this because they bring the listener into the rich Mysore compositional tradition. The programme was already demonstrating that it would not be confined to the most predictable composer repertoire.

Next came “Palaya Govinda” in Ganamurti, attributed to Ganapati Sachchidananda Swamiji. The choice of this composition introduced another striking colour. Ganamurti is not a raga that one encounters with the same frequency as Hamsadhwani or Khamas, and its inclusion added an element of discovery to the programme. It was one of several indications that the evening was designed not simply to showcase familiar favourites but to explore a wider Carnatic vocabulary.

The programme then moved into a more substantial classical zone with Tyagaraja's “Raghuvara Nannu” in Kamavardhini, set to Adi tala, with alapana and swaras.

Kamavardhini has an intensity that immediately changes the temperature of a concert. It is a raga capable of extraordinary emotional force, and giving it space for an alapana before entering the kriti allowed the melodic personality of the raga to emerge fully. The subsequent swara passages brought the rhythmic and melodic dimensions together, providing one of the early highlights of the evening.

The contrast between the preceding Ganamurti and Kamavardhini was particularly effective. The programme was continually moving between different shades of melody, never allowing the listener to settle too comfortably into one colour.

After this substantial classical stretch, the concert moved towards a more devotional and lyrical atmosphere with “Muddugare Yashoda” in Jhanjhuti, an Adi tala composition of Annamacharya. This was an inspired change of mood. The composition's Krishna-centric devotional imagery and the distinctive character of Jhanjhuti brought warmth and intimacy into the programme.

The following “Pavanaja Stuti Patra” in Kuranji, set to Khanda Chapu and attributed to Tyagaraja, continued the devotional thread. Kuranji is an especially delicate raga, and its presence after Jhanjhuti created a softer and more inward atmosphere.

The choice of these two compositions in succession was one of the more attractive features of the programme. The evening was gradually moving away from the expansive, technically oriented territory of Kamavardhini and towards a more intimate devotional expression.

And then came perhaps the most intriguing musical idea of the concert: an Abheri–Sindhubhairavi dual-raga alapana.

This was a particularly imaginative choice. Both Abheri and Sindhubhairavi possess enormous expressive potential, yet they evoke quite different shades of musical experience. To hear them explored in juxtaposition creates an interesting exercise in listening—one begins to notice not merely the identity of each raga, but the subtle differences in colour, contour and emotional atmosphere.

The dual-raga alapana was followed by Purandara Dasa's “Tamburi Meetidava Bhavabdhi Datidava” in Sindhubhairavi, set to Eka tala.

The connection between the alapana and this composition was especially satisfying. Sindhubhairavi is perhaps at its most compelling when it becomes a vehicle for direct emotional communication, and Purandara Dasa's devotional composition sits naturally within that world. The tambura itself becomes the subject of the composition, creating a beautiful connection between music, instrument and devotion.

This section seems to have been one of the evening's most distinctive moments—not because it relied on sheer musical spectacle, but because of the conceptual and emotional continuity between the dual-raga exploration and the composition that followed.

The concert then moved into Mishra Shivaranjani tillana in Adi tala by Lalgudi G. Jayaraman. After the devotional introspection of Sindhubhairavi, the tillana brought a welcome injection of rhythmic energy.

A Lalgudi tillana is, of course, a wonderful vehicle for combining melodic grace with rhythmic precision. Mishra Shivaranjani adds its own evocative colour, making the piece more than a purely percussive finale. The melody remains important, but the rhythmic architecture becomes increasingly prominent.

The concluding Madhyamavati medley brought the evening to a graceful close.

Madhyamavati has long occupied a special place in the concluding portion of Carnatic concerts. Its pentatonic simplicity and serene character can create an atmosphere of completion without requiring theatricality. Ending with a Madhyamavati medley therefore gave the concert an appropriately tranquil landing after the rhythmic exuberance of the tillana.

Looking at the programme as a whole, what stands out is its remarkable variety. The concert began with Hamsadhwani and moved through Khamas and Ganamurti, entered the intense territory of Kamavardhini, softened through Jhanjhuti and Kuranji, and then arrived at the expressive pairing of Abheri and Sindhubhairavi. The latter part brought Purandara Dasa, the Lalgudi tillana and finally Madhyamavati.

This is an unusually satisfying arc because the concert does not simply become progressively heavier. Instead, it breathes.

There is brightness at the beginning, classical weight in the middle, devotional intimacy later, rhythmic exuberance towards the end and finally serenity. The emotional architecture is therefore almost as interesting as the individual musical selections.

The choice of composers also deserves appreciation. Muthuswami Dikshitar, Mysore Vasudevacharya, Ganapati Sachchidananda Swamiji, Tyagaraja, Annamacharya, Purandara Dasa and Lalgudi G. Jayaraman represent very different compositional traditions and musical eras. Yet the programme brings them together without making the concert feel historically fragmented.

That is one of the pleasures of listening to a mature musician curate a programme: the repertoire itself becomes a conversation across generations.

And at the centre of that conversation was the veena.

Jayanthi Kumaresh has the formidable task of making an instrument with such a strong historical identity feel immediate and contemporary. The veena can sometimes be approached primarily as an object of reverence, but the finest performances remind us that it is not merely a museum piece from an ancient tradition. It remains a wonderfully expressive concert instrument, capable of intimacy, brilliance, gravitas and extraordinary melodic detail.

The repertoire chosen for this concert played directly into those possibilities. Hamsadhwani showcased clarity; Khamas allowed lyricism; Kamavardhini provided intensity; Jhanjhuti and Kuranji brought delicacy; and Abheri–Sindhubhairavi created a deeply evocative expressive space.

The percussion pairing of Arjun Kumar and Pramath Kiran complemented this journey. The mridangam and accompanying percussion provided the rhythmic foundation necessary for a programme that moved between kriti-based rendering, swara passages, devotional pieces and a tillana. The rhythmic dimension was particularly important in preventing the latter half from becoming overly contemplative.

But perhaps the most memorable quality of the concert was its musical personality.

It did not seem to be striving for novelty for novelty's sake. Nor did it depend entirely on the familiar. Instead, there was a healthy balance between both. “Vatapi Ganapatim,” “Brochevarevarura,” “Muddugare Yashoda” and “Tamburi Meetidava” provide immediate points of connection, while Ganamurti, Kuranji and the Abheri–Sindhubhairavi exploration bring an element of surprise.

The result was a concert that felt curious, confident and deeply musical.

The most rewarding concerts are often those that make the listener look at familiar music differently. A well-known composition acquires another shade; a less familiar raga suddenly becomes memorable; a transition between two pieces begins to feel inevitable only after one has heard it.

This concert had several such qualities.

The final Madhyamavati medley seemed to gather the evening's many threads together. The brilliant opening, the classical intensity of Kamavardhini, the tenderness of Jhanjhuti and Kuranji, the striking Abheri–Sindhubhairavi exploration, the devotional warmth of Sindhubhairavi and the rhythmic sparkle of the tillana had all contributed their own colours.

What remained at the end was a feeling of completeness rather than spectacle.

For me, this was one of those concerts where the instrument itself became the storyteller. The veena carried the melodic narrative from invocation to introspection, from classical architecture to devotional expression, and finally into the quiet repose of Madhyamavati.

Jayanthi Kumaresh, with Arjun Kumar and Pramath Kiran, offered a richly textured and beautifully varied evening at Nava Mantralaya. The concert combined virtuosity with warmth, repertoire imagination with tradition, and rhythmic vitality with genuine melodic sensitivity.

The programme was luminous in its opening, expansive at its centre, intimate in its devotional passages and serene in its conclusion.

And the most memorable thread running through it all was the unmistakable voice of the veena—sometimes brilliant, sometimes meditative, sometimes playful, but always eloquent.

A concert of exquisite musical colour, thoughtful curation and lingering emotional resonance—the kind of performance that leaves the rasika not merely impressed, but grateful for having listened.

2026 May 24 1 VishnudevKS KeshavMohanKumar SridharKaushik Hridayananda

Vocal: Vid. VishnudevKS 

Violin: Vid. KeshavMohanKumar 

Mridanga: SridharKaushik 

Venue : Hridayananda 

01 sadAcalEshvaram bhAvayEham bhUpaLaM Adi m.dIkshitar

02 maravakavE O manasA sAma rUpakA patnam subhramanya iyer (A, S)

03 shrI vallI dEvasEnApatE naTabhairavi Adi pApanAsam sivan (A, N, S, T)

04 alivEni endhu chaivu (padam) kurinji swAti thirunAL

05 Innu daya bAradE kalyANavasantha K chApu purandara dAsa

06 sAgara shayana vibho bhAgyashri Adhi MD rAmanAThan

A Concert of Intimacy, Depth and Devotion

There is a special pleasure in listening to a concert that does not feel compelled to say everything. A carefully chosen handful of compositions, given the right amount of space and allowed to unfold with musical conviction, can create an experience far more lasting than an overloaded programme. The concert by Vishnudev K. S., accompanied by Keshav Mohan Kumar and Sridhar Kaushik, at Hridayananda was one such beautifully conceived musical experience.

The programme was modest in size but remarkably rich in character. It travelled through Bhupalam, Sama, Natabhairavi, Kurinji, Kalyanavasantha and Bhagyashri, bringing together the compositions of Muthuswami Dikshitar, Patnam Subramania Iyer, Papanasam Sivan, Swati Tirunal, Purandara Dasa and M. D. Ramanathan. What emerged was not merely a sequence of kritis, but a concert with a clear emotional trajectory—beginning in a dignified classical space, opening gradually into expansive manodharma, moving into the intimate world of the padam and devotional repertoire, and finally settling into a contemplative conclusion.

The opening “Sadachaleshvaram Bhavayehām” in Bhupalam, by Muthuswami Dikshitar and set to Adi tala, was an especially appropriate choice. Bhupalam possesses an austere and meditative quality, and it has the ability to immediately create a serious listening atmosphere. Dikshitar's composition further reinforces that character. There is a certain gravitas in beginning a concert with Dikshitar, and the choice gave the evening a dignified foundation.

From this meditative opening, the programme moved to Patnam Subramania Iyer's “Maravakave O Manasa” in Sama, set to Rupaka tala, with alapana and swaras. Sama is an entirely different kind of raga experience. Its restrained, graceful personality rewards attentive listening rather than overt display. The transition from Bhupalam to Sama was therefore subtle but effective.

The inclusion of an alapana and swara treatment in Sama also gave the concert its first glimpse of greater improvisational freedom. This was a nice example of programming where the raga itself is allowed to dictate the mood. After the formal architecture of the opening Dikshitar kriti, the Sama exploration provided additional breathing space and began to reveal the individual musical personality of the vocalist.

The principal classical section arrived with Papanasam Sivan's “Sri Valli Devasenapate” in Natabhairavi, set to Adi tala and presented with alapana, neraval, swaras and tani.

This was clearly the substantial centre of the concert.

Natabhairavi is a raga of considerable emotional and melodic depth. It has an expansive canvas, but its appeal lies as much in its shades and inflections as in its scale. Giving Natabhairavi the full treatment—with alapana followed by the kriti, neraval, swaras and tani—allowed the concert to reach its most elaborate classical dimension.

The choice of Papanasam Sivan's composition was particularly apt. Sivan's devotional compositions often combine accessible melodic expression with a strong emotional core, and “Sri Valli Devasenapate” provides a natural vehicle for exploring Natabhairavi while retaining the devotional thrust of the text.

The alapana was an important structural point in the evening. After Bhupalam and Sama, the concert had already established an atmosphere of restraint and refinement; Natabhairavi now offered a considerably larger canvas. The subsequent neraval and swara passages brought the rhythmic and melodic dimensions together, leading naturally into the tani avartanam.

The percussion contribution of Keshav Mohan Kumar and Sridhar Kaushik was particularly significant at this juncture. With the mridangam and ghatam providing the rhythmic foundation, the tani formed a natural culmination of the main classical segment. It also provided a welcome change in texture before the concert turned towards its more intimate second half.

And what a change it was.

The next selection was the Swati Tirunal padam “Aliveni Endhu Chaivu” in Kurinji. The placement of a padam immediately after the main tani was an inspired choice. A padam asks for a very different kind of musical attention. It is less about outward virtuosity and more about bhava, nuance, suggestion and emotional restraint.

Kurinji is particularly suited to such an aesthetic. Its gentle, delicate contours allow the poetry to occupy the foreground. After the rhythmic energy of the tani, the padam would naturally have brought the atmosphere inward, encouraging the listener to focus on the expressive dimension of the music.

This transition is one of the most appealing aspects of the programme. Rather than treating the post-tani section merely as a collection of lighter items, the concert seems to have deliberately changed its emotional vocabulary. The padam becomes a bridge between the substantial classical centre and the devotional compositions that follow.

Purandara Dasa's “Innu Daya Barade” in Kalyanavasantha, set to Khanda Chapu, continued this inward movement. Kalyanavasantha has a distinctive charm and an inherently plaintive quality, and Purandara Dasa's devotional poetry fits naturally within that emotional space.

There is something especially beautiful about hearing a composition such as “Innu Daya Barade” after a padam. Both demand a certain intimacy from the performer and the listener, but they arrive there through different routes. The padam brings the world of refined emotional expression, while the Purandara Dasa composition turns that inwardness towards devotion.

The programme concluded with “Sagara Shayana Vibho” in Bhagyashri, set to Adi tala and attributed to M. D. Ramanathan. This was an intriguing and evocative choice for the final piece. Bhagyashri has a naturally introspective and romantic quality, and the association with M. D. Ramanathan's musical world adds another layer of interest.

Ending with this composition rather than a conventional high-energy finale gave the concert a feeling of quiet completion. The evening had progressively moved away from formal elaboration and towards a more contemplative space, and Bhagyashri provided an appropriate final colour.

Looking at the programme as a whole, the most striking feature is its economy. Six principal compositions, yet each belongs to a distinctly different musical world. There is Dikshitar's classical architecture in Bhupalam, Patnam Subramania Iyer's Sama, Papanasam Sivan's Natabhairavi, Swati Tirunal's padam, Purandara Dasa's devotional composition and M. D. Ramanathan's Bhagyashri.

That is quite a musical journey.

The programme also demonstrates the remarkable range available within Carnatic music without having to depend on sheer quantity. Bhupalam and Sama establish restraint; Natabhairavi supplies the central expansiveness; Kurinji introduces emotional delicacy; Kalyanavasantha brings devotional poignancy; and Bhagyashri leaves the listener in contemplation.

There is a discernible movement from structure towards expression.

The first half is grounded in the formal vocabulary of the Carnatic concert—the kriti, alapana, swaras, neraval and tani. The second half gradually loosens that structure. The padam and devotional composition place greater emphasis on poetry and bhava, and the concluding Bhagyashri leaves the listener with an impression that is more reflective than demonstrative.

This is also where the choice of repertoire deserves considerable appreciation. It is easy to construct a programme around familiar, frequently heard compositions. It takes greater musical imagination to combine pieces such as “Sadachaleshvaram Bhavayehām,” “Maravakave O Manasa,” “Sri Valli Devasenapate,” the Swati Tirunal padam and M. D. Ramanathan's “Sagara Shayana Vibho” into a coherent evening.

The result is a programme that feels curated rather than assembled.

The accompaniment of Keshav Mohan Kumar and Sridhar Kaushik also becomes especially meaningful in such a compact programme. A small ensemble places considerable responsibility on every musician. There is less room for merely functional accompaniment; the violin and percussion have to contribute actively to the overall musical texture. In the central Natabhairavi section, the mridangam and ghatam provided the natural rhythmic framework for the neraval, swaras and tani, while the rest of the concert allowed the accompanying musicians to remain closely integrated with the melodic flow.

What makes an evening such as this memorable is ultimately not any single item. It is the aftertaste of the entire programme.

The Bhupalam of the opening, the restrained elegance of Sama, the expansive Natabhairavi, the intimate Kurinji padam, the devotional appeal of Kalyanavasantha and the contemplative Bhagyashri form a sequence that stays with the listener precisely because each piece occupies its own emotional space.

The concert also serves as a reminder that musical intensity does not always have to mean volume, speed or virtuosity. Sometimes intensity lies in concentration—in allowing a raga to speak clearly, a composition to breathe, and a word of devotion to acquire its full emotional weight.

That quality of musical restraint coupled with depth is what seems to define this programme.

The evening began with an invocation to Sadachaleshvara and travelled through the many shades of classical melody before gradually turning inward. By the time “Sagara Shayana Vibho” brought the concert towards its conclusion, the journey had moved a considerable distance—from the formal to the intimate, from the expansive to the contemplative.

It was a concert that trusted its repertoire and, importantly, trusted its listeners.

Vishnudev K. S., Keshav Mohan Kumar and Sridhar Kaushik offered a programme of elegant contrasts, carefully chosen compositions and substantial musical content. The Natabhairavi centerpiece provided the classical gravitas, while the Kurinji padam and devotional concluding pieces brought warmth, intimacy and bhava.

A concert that did not need excess to make an impression—refined, evocative, contemplative and deeply rewarding.

The kind of evening whose final note may have faded, but whose musical mood remains.