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.

2026 May 20 VigneshIshwar HMSmitha PraveenSparsh GiridharUdupa KALOTSAV

VigneshIshwar 

HMSmitha 

PraveenSparsh 

GiridharUdupa 

01 dAriNI telusukoNTi tripura sundhari shuddha sAvEri Adi tyAgarAja

02 rAma nIvAdukonduvO kalyANi Adi tyAgarAja (A, S)

03 smaraNE sukhamu rAma janaranjani tyAgarAja (A, S)

04 brOva vammA thAmasa mEla mAnji chApu shyAma shAsthry

05 bAlakrishnam bhAvayAmi balarAmAnujam vasudeva gOpikAvasanta Adi m.dIkshitar

06 rAga tAna kEdAragauLa

06 Saraguna pAlimpa kEdAragowLa Adi rAmanAthapuram srInivAsa iyengAr (N, S, T)

07 jAnarO khamAs jAvaLi Rupaka Chinniah

08 ViTalA SalahO SwAmi dEsh p.dAsa

09 tillANa surUTi Adi mysUru vAsudEvAchArya

10 rAmachandrAya janaka mangaLam kuranji bhadrAcala rAmadas

A Richly Crafted Evening at KALOTSAV

There are concerts where one admires the musicianship, and there are concerts where the entire evening seems to acquire a personality of its own. The KALOTSAV concert featuring Vignesh Ishwar, H. M. Smitha, Praveen Sparsh and Giridhar Udupa belonged to the latter category. It was a concert marked by a thoughtfully assembled repertoire, attractive raga choices and an appealing progression from the classical weight of the opening section to the lighter and devotional music of the concluding stretch.

What made the programme especially satisfying was its balance. There was enough substantial Carnatic content for the serious rasika, with several ragas receiving individual attention, while the latter half opened out into the more relaxed world of a javali, a Purandara Dasa composition, tillana and mangalam. The concert never seemed to be in a hurry to reach its destination. Instead, it allowed each item to establish its own mood before moving on to the next.

The evening opened with Tyagaraja's “Darini Telusukonti Tripura Sundari” in Shuddha Saveri, set to Adi tala. Shuddha Saveri makes for a bright and purposeful opening, and the kriti immediately placed the concert in firmly classical territory. There is an appealing directness to the raga, and beginning with this composition created a clean musical entry before the programme expanded into more elaborate raga explorations.

The next presentation, Tyagaraja's “Rama Nivadu Konduvo” in Kalyani, also in Adi tala, brought the first substantial raga treatment of the concert, with alapana and swaras. Kalyani is such a vast and familiar landscape that every musician approaches it with the challenge of saying something personal without losing its essential character. Its inclusion this early gave the concert an immediate expansion in melodic scope. The contrast with Shuddha Saveri was striking: from the compact clarity of the opening raga to the enormous expressive possibilities of Kalyani.

This was followed by another Tyagaraja composition, “Smarane Sukhamu Rama” in Janaranjani, presented with alapana and swaras. Janaranjani is an interesting choice because it does not carry the same overwhelming familiarity as Kalyani. Its inclusion gave the programme a welcome sense of variety and demonstrated that the repertoire was not being driven solely by the usual concert staples.

The sequence of Kalyani followed by Janaranjani was particularly attractive. The former provides an expansive, majestic canvas; the latter has a more distinctive and intimate personality. Such changes of colour keep a concert alive. They also give the listener an opportunity to appreciate how differently the voice responds to different melodic structures.

Syama Sastri's “Brova Vamma Thamasa” in Manji, set to Chapu tala, was another noteworthy selection. Manji has a deeply emotive and somewhat inward character, and Syama Sastri's compositions are ideally suited to revealing that dimension. After the comparatively brighter Janaranjani, the move into Manji brought the concert into more poignant territory.

The programme then took a beautiful devotional turn with Muthuswami Dikshitar's “Balakrishnam Bhavayami Balaramanujam”, in Vasudeva Gopikavasanta, set to Adi tala. The very choice of this raga and composition added considerable distinction to the programme. Dikshitar's compositions often invite the listener to appreciate melody and lyrical content as an integrated whole, and a composition invoking Balakrishna was particularly appropriate within the larger devotional thread that would become increasingly prominent later in the concert.

Then came the centrepiece: a raga-tana presentation in Kedāragaula, followed by Ramanathapuram Srinivasa Iyengar's “Saraguna Palimpa” in Kedāragaula, set to Adi tala, with neraval, swaras and tani.

This was naturally the heart of the concert.

Kedāragaula is a raga that can be both stately and deeply expressive. It has a certain old-world richness to it, and its identity is best appreciated when its characteristic melodic movement is given sufficient room. The decision to build the main section around Kedāragaula was therefore a particularly attractive one.

The raga-tana treatment provided the necessary breadth, while “Saraguna Palimpa” brought the exploration into the structured world of the kriti. The subsequent neraval and swara passages expanded the musical possibilities further, and the tani gave the rhythmic section its own well-earned space.

The choice of Ramanathapuram Srinivasa Iyengar for the main kriti was another point in favour of the programme. It is refreshing to see concert programming embrace compositions beyond the most predictable repertoire. Such selections add both character and historical depth to a performance.

The rhythmic team of Praveen Sparsh and Giridhar Udupa had an important role in this central section. Mridangam and ghatam together can create a wonderfully rich rhythmic texture, and the tani provided an opportunity for the percussionists to step forward as independent musical voices. The tani was therefore not merely a break in the vocal presentation but an integral part of the concert's overall rhythmic architecture.

After this substantial central section, the programme relaxed beautifully with the Chinniah javali “Janaro” in Khamas, set to Rupaka tala. This was an ideal choice for the post-tani transition. Khamas has an inherent elegance and sensuality, and the lighter form of the javali provides an entirely different expressive vocabulary from the weightier kritis of the first half.

The shift was not abrupt. Rather, it felt like the concert deliberately shedding some of its formal weight.

The Purandara Dasa composition “Vitthala Salaho Swami” in Desh continued this lighter and devotional phase. The choice of Desh brought yet another melodic colour, while Purandara Dasa connected the presentation to the rich devotional heritage of Karnataka. After the classical intensity of Kedāragaula, this was music that invited the listener simply to enjoy the melody and the devotional sentiment.

The Suruti tillana in Adi tala by Mysore Vasudevacharya then supplied the rhythmic sparkle one expects towards the end of a concert. Suruti itself has a distinctly traditional flavour, and a tillana in this raga makes for a graceful combination of melodic elegance and rhythmic energy. It also provided a welcome lift after the more devotional mood of the preceding piece.

The concert concluded with “Ramachandraya Janaka” in Kurinji, the mangalam attributed to Bhadrachala Ramadas. The choice of Kurinji for the conclusion was particularly graceful. After a programme that had traversed a considerable melodic and emotional range, the mangalam brought the evening gently to rest rather than attempting to manufacture a dramatic ending.

Looking at the concert as a whole, one of its strongest features was the intelligence of its sequencing. The programme began with Shuddha Saveri, moved through Kalyani and Janaranjani, deepened into Manji, turned towards the devotional world of Vasudeva Gopikavasanta, and then reached its principal classical summit in Kedāragaula. From there, the music gradually relaxed through Khamas, Desh and Suruti before settling into Kurinji.

That is a very satisfying concert architecture.

There was also an admirable balance between familiarity and exploration. Tyagaraja appeared several times, giving the programme a strong compositional foundation, while Syama Sastri, Muthuswami Dikshitar, Ramanathapuram Srinivasa Iyengar, Chinniah, Purandara Dasa, Mysore Vasudevacharya and Bhadrachala Ramadas broadened the repertoire considerably.

For a rasika, these choices matter. A concert becomes more memorable when the repertoire itself stimulates curiosity.

Vignesh Ishwar's presentation was particularly well served by such a programme. The succession of ragas allowed the vocalist to move through markedly different emotional territories rather than remaining within one narrow aesthetic. The programme demanded both classical discipline and the ability to communicate the softer, more devotional pieces that followed the main section.

The violin contribution of H. M. Smitha was equally important in creating the sense of continuity that a vocal concert of this breadth requires. The violin has to do more than reproduce the vocalist's phrases; the most rewarding accompaniment creates an additional melodic layer, allowing the central musical ideas to resonate more fully.

Similarly, Praveen Sparsh on mridangam and Giridhar Udupa on ghatam gave the concert its rhythmic backbone. Their presence became particularly significant in the neraval, swara and tani portions, where rhythmic sensitivity is inseparable from melodic imagination.

What ultimately distinguishes this concert is that it did not feel like a demonstration of individual items. It felt like a musical narrative. Each raga contributed a different emotional shade; each composer brought a different voice; each section altered the atmosphere without breaking the continuity of the evening.

The concert began with the directness of Shuddha Saveri, opened its horizons with Kalyani, explored Janaranjani, became introspective in Manji, turned devotional through Balakrishna, reached its expansive centre in Kedāragaula and finally descended gently through Khamas, Desh, Suruti and Kurinji.

There is something deeply satisfying about such an arc.

The final mangalam did not feel like the end of a checklist. It felt like the natural conclusion of a carefully designed journey. One was left with the impression of having experienced not merely a succession of kritis, but a richly layered evening of melody, rhythm, poetry and devotion.

The programme demonstrated that a concert can be both classically substantial and emotionally accessible, both adventurous in repertoire and respectful of tradition. That balance is not easy to achieve, and it was perhaps the evening's most commendable quality.

For the rasika, the rewards were many: the familiar beauty of Kalyani and Saveri, the less routine colours of Janaranjani and Vasudeva Gopikavasanta, the poignancy of Manji, the substantial Kedāragaula raga-tana-kriti, the rhythmic vitality of the tani and tillana, and finally the serenity of Kurinji.

It was, in every sense, a well-conceived, musically rewarding and beautifully paced concert—one that respected the intelligence of its listeners while never losing sight of the fundamental joy of making music.

And perhaps that is the highest compliment one can give a Carnatic concert: it made one want to keep listening.

Vignesh Ishwar, H. M. Smitha, Praveen Sparsh and Giridhar Udupa created an evening of considerable musical substance, elegant repertoire choices, vibrant rhythmic interplay and lingering emotional appeal. A concert where tradition was not merely preserved, but made to feel wonderfully alive.

2026 May 17 RamanaBalachandra BangaloreVPraveen Guruprasanna KALOTSAV

RamanaBalachandra 

BangaloreVPraveen 

Guruprasanna 

01 SharaNAgata vatsale kadanakutUhala varNa Adi Calcutta K.S.Krishnamurti

02 dwaitamu sukhamA rItigauLa Adi tyAgarAja (A, S)

03 EdayyA gati calanATa Adi koTESwara Iyer

04 tuLasI jagajjananI duritApahAriNI sAvEri rUpaka tyAgarAja (A, N, S)

05 sarasa sAma dAna bhEda kApinArayaNi tyAgarAja

06 rAga tAna pallavi mOhanakalyANi ChaturaSra triputa dwi kaLai (T)

07 pibarE rAma rasam Ahirbhairav Adi sadASiva brahmEndra

08 nine gati nine mati

09 mIra Bhajan Payoji Maine pahADi

10 aruNAchala shiva aksharamaNamAlai rAgamAlike

A Musical Journey from Kadanakutuhala to Arunachala

Some concerts are remembered for a spectacular centerpiece, some for a particularly memorable raga, and some for the sheer virtuosity of the musicians. There are also concerts that remain in the mind because of the way the entire evening unfolds. The concert by Ramana Balachandra, accompanied by Bangalore V. Praveen and Guruprasanna, was one such experience—a thoughtfully structured musical journey that moved gracefully between the majesty of traditional Carnatic repertoire and the intimacy of devotional music.

The programme had an admirable sense of progression. Beginning with a Kadanakutuhala varnam, it travelled through Ritigaula, Calanata, Saveri, Kapinarayani and Mohanakalyani before gradually turning towards the devotional world of Ahirbhairav, Pahadi and finally a raga-malika setting of Arunachala Siva Aksharamanamalai. The result was a concert that seemed to expand and contract in mood, moving from the formal architecture of the kriti to the expansive freedom of raga and tani, and finally towards contemplation and bhakti.

The opening “Sharanagata Vatsale” in Kadanakutuhala, an Adi tala varnam by Calcutta K. S. Krishnamurti, was an energetic and purposeful beginning. Kadanakutuhala is naturally vivacious, and a varnam in this raga is well suited to setting the pulse of the concert. The opening item immediately placed the evening within a recognisably classical framework, while the choice of a composition that is not among the most routinely heard varnam selections gave the programme an individual character right from the outset.

The concert then moved into one of the most beautiful early contrasts of the evening—Tyagaraja's “Dwaitamu Sukhamā” in Ritigaula, set to Adi tala, with alapana and swara passages. Ritigaula is a raga of extraordinary depth. Its beauty is not loud or demonstrative; it emerges through its characteristic turns, delicate oscillations and unmistakable emotional personality. Following the brisk Kadanakutuhala opening with Ritigaula created a lovely change of temperature.

The inclusion of alapana and swara also meant that the raga was given room to breathe beyond the confines of the composition. This is an important feature in concert programming: a raga becomes a living musical personality when the musician is allowed to explore it rather than merely render a kriti within it. Ritigaula, in particular, rewards such exploration.

Next came Koteswara Iyer's “Edayya Gati” in Calanata, set to Adi tala. The appearance of Calanata at this point was another refreshing change of colour. Koteswara Iyer's compositions provide an opportunity to move beyond the most frequently traversed Tyagaraja–Dikshitar–Syama Sastri repertoire, and the inclusion of this kriti contributed to the distinctive character of the programme.

The concert then entered one of its major early stretches with Tyagaraja's “Tulasi Jagajjanani Duritapaharini” in Saveri, set to Rupaka tala, presented with alapana, neraval and swara. Saveri is one of those foundational ragas in which the weight of tradition is immediately perceptible. Its personality is unmistakable, and its emotional range can be profound without requiring excessive embellishment.

The progression from Ritigaula to Calanata and then Saveri made for a fascinating sequence. Each raga possessed a strongly individual identity, and the programme was clearly not interested in staying within one particular emotional or melodic zone for too long. The alapana gave Saveri its own independent space, while the subsequent kriti brought the raga into the compositional world of Tyagaraja. The addition of neraval and swara further expanded the treatment, making this one of the substantial musical landmarks before the main RTP.

Another interesting choice followed with Tyagaraja's “Sarasa Sama Dana Bheda” in Kapinarayani. Kapinarayani is not a raga one encounters in every concert, and its inclusion was one of the programme's particularly attractive features. There is a certain joy in hearing a musician move into less frequently visited territory, especially when such a raga is placed alongside familiar stalwarts like Ritigaula and Saveri.

Then came the central presentation of the evening: the Raga-Tana-Pallavi in Mohanakalyani, set to Chaturasra Triputa tala, two-kalai. This was naturally the point around which the concert acquired its greatest structural weight.

Mohanakalyani is a fascinating raga because of the way it combines the familiar luminosity of Mohanam with the additional melodic possibilities associated with Kalyani. It can be graceful, expansive and highly evocative. Choosing Mohanakalyani for the RTP was therefore an inspired departure from the more predictable choices one might expect for a central pallavi.

The very nature of an RTP provides a different kind of musical experience. It allows the musician to move beyond the boundaries of a fixed composition and engage with raga, rhythm and imagination as interconnected dimensions. The choice of two-kalai Chaturasra Triputa also gives the pallavi a substantial rhythmic canvas. After the succession of kritis earlier in the concert, this was the natural point at which the evening could open out fully.

The percussion component was equally important in this architecture. Bangalore V. Praveen and Guruprasanna brought the mridangam and kanjira voices into the rhythmic fabric of the concert. Their presence ensured that the rhythmic dimension had both weight and colour, particularly as the concert moved towards the central pallavi and its associated rhythmic elaboration.

After the RTP, the atmosphere began to change perceptibly. The programme moved into “Pibare Rama Rasam” in Ahirbhairav, a composition of Sadashiva Brahmendra set to Adi tala. This was an excellent post-RTP choice. Ahirbhairav carries a contemplative quality, and Sadashiva Brahmendra's composition naturally belongs to a more inward devotional space.

The shift from Mohanakalyani to Ahirbhairav represented more than a simple change of raga. It felt like a transition from the intellectual and structural concentration of the RTP towards the emotional simplicity of bhakti. This kind of post-RTP relaxation is one of the pleasures of a well-planned concert.

The subsequent “Nine Gati Nine Mati” continued this lighter, devotional portion of the programme. The concert was now gradually shedding the formal weight accumulated through the main classical section.

Then came the Mirabai bhajan “Payoji Maine” in Pahadi. Pahadi is ideally suited to this kind of transition. Its folk-like accessibility and gentle melodic charm allow the listener to move effortlessly from the sophistication of the Carnatic concert format into the direct emotional language of the bhajan.

The final item, “Arunachala Siva Aksharamanamalai” in ragamalika, provided a deeply evocative conclusion. The choice of Ramana Maharshi's celebrated devotional text associated with Arunachala was especially appropriate as a concluding offering. After travelling through the formal and expansive dimensions of Carnatic music, the concert ended by embracing a more meditative and devotional aesthetic.

The entire programme can therefore be viewed almost as a carefully constructed arc. Kadanakutuhala supplied the youthful energy of the opening; Ritigaula brought depth; Calanata added an element of discovery; Saveri provided gravitas; Kapinarayani expanded the repertoire's colour; and Mohanakalyani became the central expansive canvas. From there, Ahirbhairav, Pahadi and finally the Arunachala Siva Aksharamanamalai gradually turned the concert inward.

What I particularly appreciated was the balance between scholarship and accessibility. The programme clearly had enough substance for the serious rasika—the less frequently heard compositions, the substantial raga treatments and the RTP ensured that—but it did not remain intellectually demanding throughout. The later devotional pieces opened another door into the music, allowing the concert to conclude on a more intimate and contemplative note.

That balance is not easy to achieve.

A concert can become overly cerebral if every item is chosen primarily for novelty or technical possibilities. Conversely, an excessive dependence on familiar devotional pieces can make the latter half predictable. Here, the two worlds complemented each other. The classical core gave the concert its depth, while the devotional concluding sequence gave it warmth.

The contribution of the accompanying musicians also deserves appreciation. A vocalist's imagination can truly flourish only when the accompanists are listening deeply and responding with sensitivity. The combination of Bangalore V. Praveen and Guruprasanna provided the rhythmic foundation for the concert, while the musical dialogue within the ensemble would have been particularly important in a programme that moved from kriti-based presentation to raga exploration and an RTP.

What makes a concert memorable, ultimately, is not simply the number of difficult passages or the length of the main item. It is the feeling that the musicians have taken the audience somewhere. This concert certainly had that quality.

The programme offered variety without fragmentation, depth without heaviness, virtuosity without exhibitionism, and devotion without sentimentality. It allowed the listener to appreciate Carnatic music in several dimensions—its grammar, its improvisational freedom, its rhythmic architecture, its poetry and finally its capacity for contemplation.

The concluding Arunachala Siva Aksharamanamalai was therefore more than a final item. It served as the final brushstroke on the musical canvas. After the energy of the varnam, the exploration of Ritigaula and Saveri, the expansive Mohanakalyani RTP and the rhythmic dimensions of the concert, the music finally arrived at a place of surrender.

And perhaps that is the most satisfying way for a Carnatic concert to end—not with the feeling that the programme has merely been completed, but with the sense that the listener has travelled through something meaningful.

Ramana Balachandra, Bangalore V. Praveen and Guruprasanna presented a richly conceived concert that combined melodic sophistication, rhythmic vitality, repertoire imagination and devotional warmth. The evening demonstrated how a thoughtfully chosen programme can itself become a form of musical storytelling.

For the rasika, it was a rewarding journey—one that began with the exuberance of Kadanakutuhala and concluded in the contemplative glow of Arunachala.

A concert of considerable musical substance, distinctive repertoire and lingering emotional resonance.

2026 May 16 SaketaramanS HKVenkatram ArjunGanesh BhagyalakshmiKrishna Kalotsav

 01 smaraNe ondhe sAladE malayamArutha rUpaka p.dAsa

02 tanavAri tanamu lEda tArakAdhipanana vada bEgaDa Adi tyAgarAja

03 pAvana guru pavana hamsAnandi rUpaka lalita dAsa (A, S)

04 akhilAndEShwari rakShamAm dhwijAvanthi Adhi m dhIkShithar (A)

05 sudhAmayi sudhAnidhE amruthavarShiNi rUpaka m bhAgavathar

06 tukkiya tiruvaDi tuNai shankarAbharaNa Adi ShuddAnanda bhArati (A, N, S, T)

07 uLLuvavaru shivAlaya mADuvaru miSra ShivaranjanI basavaNNa

08 rAga tAna  pallavi madhyamAvati misra triputa

09 Adum chidambaramo ayyan kuTTadum bEhAg gOpalakrishna bhArati

10 Innu daya bAradE kalyANavasantha K chApu purandara dAsa

11 tillana miSra shivaranjani Adi LGJ

12 nI nAma rUpamulaku mangaLa sourAshtra Adi tyAgarAja

A Concert That Unfolded Like a Carefully Woven Musical Tapestry

There are concerts where the repertoire is merely a list of compositions, and there are concerts where the choice and sequencing of each piece seem to create a larger musical narrative. The concert of Vid. Saketharaman, accompanied by Vid. H. K. Venkatram on violin, Vid. Arjun Ganesh on mridangam and Vid. Bhagyalakshmi Krishna on ghatam, belonged to the latter category. Presented as part of the Kalotsav, the concert offered a fascinating journey through a remarkably varied selection of Carnatic compositions, moving effortlessly between familiar territory and less frequently encountered melodic landscapes.

What made the evening particularly enjoyable was the sense of musical discovery. The programme did not appear to be constructed around a predictable succession of stock choices. Instead, it moved through Malayamaruta, Begada, Hamsanandi, Dhwijavanti, Amrutavarshini, Sankarabharana, Mishra Shivaranjani, Madhyamavati and Behag, with Purandara Dasa, Tyagaraja, Muthuswami Dikshitar, Lalita Dasa, M. Bhagavatar, Shuddhananda Bharati, Basavanna and Gopalakrishna Bharati finding their places naturally within the architecture of the concert.

The opening “Smarane Ondhe Saalade” in Malayamaruta, set to Rupaka tala and attributed to Purandara Dasa, was an attractive way to begin. There is something immediately appealing about starting with a composition that places the listener in a devotional frame without sacrificing the classical character of the concert. The Malayamaruta canvas is itself distinctive, and the opening set the tone for what was to become an evening of contrasting ragas and devotional moods.

The transition to Tyagaraja's “Tanavari Tanamu Leda, Tarakadhipanana Vada” in Begada, set to Adi tala, was particularly interesting. Begada is one of those ragas whose identity is inseparable from its characteristic phrases and nuanced movement. It possesses grandeur, but also an unmistakable elegance. Its placement so early in the programme gave the concert a more firmly Carnatic centre after the devotional opening.

The next item, “Pavana Guru Pavana” in Hamsanandi, by Lalita Dasa and set to Rupaka tala, brought another striking change in colour. Hamsanandi has an almost luminous quality, and its inclusion after Begada created a vivid contrast. The programme was already beginning to demonstrate one of its greatest strengths: variety without musical disjointedness.

This was followed by Muthuswami Dikshitar's “Akhilandeshwari Rakshamam” in Dhwijavanti, with an alapana. Dikshitar's compositions are particularly rewarding in a programme such as this because they bring an unmistakable weight of classical architecture. Dhwijavanti itself has an intriguing, sophisticated personality, and the alapana before the kriti provided the opportunity to establish its melodic identity before entering the composition.

Then came “Sudhamayi Sudhanidhe” in Amrutavarshini, in Rupaka tala, attributed to M. Bhagavatar. The sudden appearance of Amrutavarshini after Dhwijavanti was another delightful change in sonic atmosphere. The raga has a brilliance and immediacy that can brighten an otherwise contemplative sequence. This was a programme that seemed unafraid to move between very different emotional temperatures.

The central weight of the concert came with Shuddhananda Bharati's “Tukkiya Tiruvadi Tunai” in Sankarabharana, set to Adi tala, presented with alapana, neraval, swaras and tani.

Sankarabharana is perhaps the ultimate test of musical imagination precisely because of its familiarity. There is nowhere to hide behind novelty. Its enormous melodic territory is known intimately to generations of listeners, and yet it remains capable of revealing something new when approached with conviction and sensitivity. The decision to give this composition the full manodharma treatment made it the natural centre of gravity of the concert.

The inclusion of neraval and swara kalpana within this piece also gave the programme a welcome expansion after the succession of composition-led items. The tani that followed allowed the rhythmic dimensions of the concert to come forward, with Arjun Ganesh and Bhagyalakshmi Krishna taking the stage. The mridangam-ghatam combination brought a complementary texture to the ensemble, and the tani served as a satisfying punctuation mark to the main classical section.

The post-tani section was especially interesting in its choice of repertoire. Basavanna's “Ulluvavaru Shivalaya Madhuvaru” in Mishra Shivaranjani shifted the emotional register considerably. The choice brought Kannada vachana tradition into the concert, adding a layer of cultural and devotional depth to what had already been a wide-ranging classical presentation. Mishra Shivaranjani itself carries an inherently evocative character, making it an apt vehicle for such poetry.

The concert then arrived at its Raga-Tana-Pallavi in Madhyamavati, set to Misra Triputa tala. This was another significant point in the evening. Madhyamavati is a raga that can be majestic without being ostentatious, and its placement as the RTP raga gave the concert a strong structural sense of arrival. The RTP format also provided the natural culmination of the manodharma-oriented portions of the programme.

One of the most attractive aspects of the concert's latter half was how it subsequently relaxed into lighter and more devotional territory. Gopalakrishna Bharati's “Adum Chidambaramo Ayyan Kuttadum” in Behag offered a graceful change of mood. Behag has a wonderfully sensuous and lyrical quality, and this composition is particularly well suited to bringing out that aspect of the raga.

The next selection, “Innu Daya Barade” in Kalyanavasantha, by Purandara Dasa and set to Khanda Chapu, continued the devotional thread. Kalyanavasantha is a raga of considerable charm, and following Behag it allowed the concert to move further towards intimacy without losing its classical character.

The Mishra Shivaranjani tillana in Adi tala, attributed to Lalgudi G. Jayaraman, provided an energetic and graceful penultimate flourish. A tillana at this stage of a concert naturally changes the pulse of the evening. After the substantial exploration of Sankarabharana and Madhyamavati, it offered rhythmic sparkle and a sense of celebration.

The concert concluded, appropriately, with Tyagaraja's “Nee Nama Rupamulaku” in Saurashtram, the familiar mangalam that has served generations of Carnatic musicians and listeners as a graceful closing offering.

Looking back at the entire programme, what strikes me most is its remarkable breadth. The concert did not depend on one raga or one composer's repertoire for its impact. Instead, it moved through a succession of carefully chosen colours. Malayamaruta and Begada established the opening; Hamsanandi and Dhwijavanti expanded the melodic palette; Amrutavarshini added brilliance; Sankarabharana supplied the substantial central core; Mishra Shivaranjani brought in the voice of Kannada devotional poetry; Madhyamavati provided the RTP; and Behag and Kalyanavasantha gradually brought the concert towards its concluding devotional mood.

This is where the role of Vid. H. K. Venkatram becomes particularly important in a concert of this nature. His long association with the Bangalore concert circuit and his distinctive musical voice make him an ideal accompanist for a vocalist who allows considerable room for musical interaction. The violin in such a concert is not merely a shadow of the voice; it becomes part of the unfolding musical argument.

Likewise, Vid. Arjun Ganesh and Vid. Bhagyalakshmi Krishna brought the rhythmic dimension into focus. The presence of mridangam and ghatam gave the concert a richly textured percussion foundation, particularly when the programme moved into swara-oriented and tani sections.

Ultimately, the greatest strength of this concert was its musical generosity. There was something for the rasika who enjoys the grammar of classical raga exploration, something for the listener drawn to rare compositions, something for the devotee who responds to Purandara Dasa and Basavanna, and something for the connoisseur who appreciates the structural possibilities of an RTP.

The programme also demonstrated that a concert need not be relentlessly intense to be deeply satisfying. The evening had its substantial moments, its introspective moments, its devotional moments and its moments of rhythmic exhilaration. The emotional arc was therefore as important as the individual compositions.

And perhaps that is the best way to describe the experience: a carefully woven musical tapestry. Each raga contributed a different thread, each composer another colour, while the vocalist and accompanists supplied the musical craftsmanship that held everything together.

The final Saurashtram mangalam brought the evening to its natural conclusion, but the musical aftertaste was considerably more lingering. The concert had travelled through devotion, classicism, manodharma, rhythm and poetry without allowing any one element to dominate the others.

For the rasika, that balance is precious.

Saketharaman, H. K. Venkatram, Arjun Ganesh and Bhagyalakshmi Krishna gave an evening that was intellectually engaging, melodically rich, rhythmically vibrant and emotionally rewarding. It was a concert where the repertoire itself became the narrative—and where each turn in that narrative offered another reason to keep listening.

A beautifully curated programme, an accomplished ensemble, and a musical journey that lingered well beyond the final mangalam.