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.
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