Here are two postings (on rmic) about Poochi Srinivasa Iyengar ________________________________________________________________ I got the following paragraph from N. Rajagopalan (1990), A Garland (Biographical Dictionary of Carnatic Composers and Musicians), Vol. 1, Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, Bombay 400007, p. 312. "The appelation 'Poochi' meaning 'insect' is rather strange. That his [Ramanathapuram Srinivasa Iyengar] raga elaboration resembled the humming of a beetle, that he used to apply salndal paste on his body and the Tamil word 'Poochu' had become 'Poochi' and that he was known for his tireless activity like the bee are some of the summises but the real reason is not known." Some other points from the same article: * Born on either 16 August 1860 or Semptember 10 1867. * Had early training under Patnam Subramaniam Ayyar and provided vocal support for his master * Sang mainly in madhyamakala rich with brigas * Established the katcheri format of Varnam, Krithis, Pallavi, Javali and Tillana which was later streamlined by his disciple Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar. * Well known as a composer: varnams (Ninnukori - Mohanam Adi, Neranamithi - Kaanada Ata, Vanajakshiro - Kalyani Adi), Krithis (Saragunapalimpa - Kedara Gowla, Paramapavanarama - Poorvi Kalyani) and Tillanas (Poornichandrika, Kanada) to name just a few * Had several disciples the most famous of which was the abovementioned legendary from Ariyakudi. Mohan Ayyar mayyar@extro.ucc.su.oz.au _________________________________________________________________________ GREAT MASTERS: Ramanad Sreenivasa Iyengar, who composed gems like the Ninnu Kori varna,was a great eater. His attachment ot money and material things sometimes put him in ludicruous situations, reminisces MYSORE VASUDEVACHARYA I WAS the junior most among the disciples of my revered guru, Patnam Subramanya Iyer, while Ramanad Sreenivasa Iyengar, also known as Poochi Iyengar, was the senior most. The first time I saw him was in Veena Seshanna's house. I was yet a student and had learnt only a few varnas. Stll, Iyengar's music made a great impression on me and whetted my desire to learn music under Patnam Subramanya Iyer. The Shankarabharanam pallavi, Mandahasavadana, that I heard Iyengar sing on that occasion, is as fresh in my mind today as if I had heard it just the other day. Maharaja Bhaskara Setupati of Ramanad, who had spotted Poochi's aptitude for music, made a gift of a thousand rupees to Patnam Subramanya Iyer and requested him to accept him as his disciple. Subramanya Iyer, who could wll see the bright future in store for the boy, agreed. Earnestness in studies and the blessings of his guru enabled Poochi to attain proficiency in music within a few years. With his many good performances, he earned the affection and admiration of the vidwans and the public alike. After the manner of his guru, Poochi composed several lovely kirtanas. He submitted each of his compositions to his guru and got his approval and blessings. "May God grant you long life and prosperity" the guru would say, happy with his disciple's scholarship and modesty. I had another opportunity of meeting Poochi when I went to Ramanad in the company of Veena Seshanna and Subbanna. The latter had helped Poochi in securing an opportunity to sing before the Mysore Maharaja and receive royal presents. It was now Poochi's turn to show his gratitude to the two vidwans by arranging their concerts before his Maharaja, enabling them to receive royal patronage. I had, by now, spent a couple of years learning under Patnam Subramanya Iyer and had acquired a fair amount of knowledge. It appears in one or two of his letters to Poochi, my guru had said a few encouraging words about me. "I am glad to tell you that your guru has written to me that you are making good progress and have attained good scholarship in both sangeeta and sahitya," Poochi said. "It is all due to his blessings and the blessings of elders like you," I replied. The next day when I called on Poochi, he was in the midst of his disciples, singing to them. It was his favourite disciple, Salem Doreswamy Iyengar, who sat close to him, providing the tamboora sruti. The other disciples were listening to their guru with rapt attention. Poochi was singing our guru's atta tala varna, Marachitlundedi Maragadura, in Begade. He sang it in three tempos. It was a perfect reproduction of our guru's own rendering. Poochi concluded by about ten in the morning. Then he moved back, sat leaning against the wall, and glanced at Doreswamy Iyengar. The disciple immediately placed the tamboora in a corner of the room, went in and returned a couple of minutes later with a huge plate loaded with idlies and a big vessel filled with ghee. He placed before his guru a silver plate on which were heaped about 25 idlies and literally bathed them in ghee. I was astonished at the magnitude of this breakfast. Before I could recover from my surprise, Poochi had polished off the idlies on the plate. He then poured down his throat hot coffee not from a cup or tumbler but from a small pot! There was now an expression of some satisfaction on his face. The breakfast had been as gigantic as his sadhana. When the students also had had their share of the idlies, the lessons began. The same Begade varna. "This is how I teach, Acharya. I believe that good listening is as essential to a student as good practice. Not only am I able to practise myself but I provide an opportunity at the same time for the students to acquaint themselves with the piece before hand. of course, it is possible to cut short the process and lighten the task and save time by running through a varna quickly within about three days, instead of spreading it over a week for detailed study, but I don't believe in it," explained Poochi. He taught the pallavi and anupallavi of the varna to each student individuaUy first and then made them sing it together. And with that, the day's lesson was over. The students bowed to the guru and took leave of him. I was happy to see the students being so respectful of their guru and so devoted to their studies. "What do you feel about my method, Acharya? Which of the students impressed you the most?" asked Poochi. "Each of them is quite bright and earnest. They will all certainly bring you credit. But still, I foresee a great future for the boy who was seated in that corner. His style of singing is very good," I said. "But what shall I do?" exclamined Poochi in a voice of concern. "The boy is not attentive and studious." "Do not entertain any misgivings about that boy. Bless him with all your heart," I told him. The student we were talking about did grow up into a famous vidwan; the boy was none other than Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar! Never did Poochi display his affection for Ariyakudi outwartly; it was there all the time but well concealed. The guru was always cautious to avoid fulsome praise lest it should make the student complacent and hamper his progress. While a student, Ariyakudi did not impress much, his talent remained a latent treasure; but later, he proved his mettle and established himself as an outstanding vidwan of his times. Poochi used to look after his students even more carefuUy than he looked after his own children. After dinner, chewing pan, he would go on a round of inspection and check if the disciples were sleeping comfortably in their rooms. One day he found a room locked from the outside, but the light was on inside. The window was open and he could see that the bed was occupied, but the student had covered himself completely. Poochi was surprised. He knocked at the door and caUed out the name of the disciple. There was no response. Nor did the student make any sign of movement. Poochi went round to the back of the room to see if there was some other way of attracting the young man's attention. Then he saw somebody cautiously walking away in the darkness. He followed the person with light steps. The person moved towards the pond behind the room. Poochi rushed to the spot, alarmed. The person soon climbed down the steps of the pond and looking up into the clear, blue sky, and started singing. No sooner did Poochi hear the voice than a shiver went down his spine! An incident of the morning when he was conducting the class came to his mind suddenly like an electric shock. He had reprimanded the student for not having properly practised a particular kirtana. Now, here was the disciple singing the same kirtana. He was completely taken aback. He had not realised that his angry words could make this kind of impact upon a pupil. He was terrified at the thought that the boy might be trying to end his life. He ran down the steps and placing his hands affectionately on his pupil's shoulders, exclaimed: "Dore! What is all this?" Doreswamy Iyengar was totally immersed in his music. He was not aware of anything else. He was singing his guru's composition in Poorvi Kalyani, Parama pavana Rama, his voice filling the serene night with ineffable sweetness, each note of the raga throbbing with life. Listening to him, Poochi was as happy as--or perhaps even happier--than the parents who have at last succeeded in discovering a suitable bridegroom for a girl on whom they have lavished all their affection and care. Doreswamy Iyengar opened his eyes only when Poochi sprinkled some cold water on his face. He was surprised to see his guru in front of him. Poochi hugged the boy fondly and led him back to the house. From that day, he instructed Doreswamy Iyengar that he should sleep with him in his house. Since I had the good fortune of listening to Poochi at several concerts, his music has not faded even a little from my memory. He followed very closely the able of our guru in rendering kirtanas in the fast tempo and in neraval singing without in any way distorting the words, and in elaborating the medium tempo. But in regard to the improvisation passages, he followed in toto the style of Maha Vaidyanatha Iyer. The pallavi he sang in the Simhanandana tala of 108 beats at Gayana Samaja, Bangalore, is unforgettable. Chikkaranganna, the famous tabla artiste of Mysore, who provided percussion accompaniment to Poochi in that concert, displayed remarkable skill on that day and enhanced the prestige of the local vidwans. Poochi's voice sounded slightly harsh in the upper octave whereas it was most melodious and pliant in the middle and lower octaves. Simplicity of style, sweetness of melody and a rich imagination were the chief characteristics of Poochi's compositions. My guru, who thought very highly of Poochi's kirtanas, used to remark, "Vasu! Seenu's kirtanas are full of ragabhava. His able has a dignity all its own. The structure bears the stamp of his individuality." When Poochi visited Mysore on the occasion of the wedding of His Highness Krishnaraja Wodeyar IV, we had an interesting experience. A large number of musicians, scholars, actors and actresses, comedians, dancers, wrestlers and other kinds of artistes and entertainers from far and near had poured into the city which was beautifully bedecked and alive with excitement. There was a grand festival of music, dance and drama at the palace. It so happened that Poochi and I were scheduled to sing on the same day. I sang first and his performance followed. When I sang one of my kirtanas, Janakendrasurapriya, in Megharanjini raga. Poochi, who was sitting close to me, looked somewhat amazed. I could not guess the reason for it. At the end of my recital, he started his and in due course came to a kirtana, Karunato nannu kapadu Rama, which was again in Meghararanjini. He looked at me and smiled. It was my turn now to be amazed. Both our kirtanas were exactly alike. Not a swara differed anywhere! Anybody would have thought that one of us had copied the other. When he concluded the kirtana, I hastened to apologise. "I beg your pardon. Honestly, I had no knowledge of your kirtana when I composed mine. It is a sheer coincidence. However, I shall change it and set the piece in some other raga, "I said. "Why should you, Acharya? What is the harm? Shouldn't two composers have similar manodharma? What about Akshayalingavibho of Dikshitar and Manasuswadheena of Tyagaraja? Don't they closely resemble each other? It is not necessary for you to change the raga. Leave it as it is. It is a fine kirtana. If at all it proves anything, it only proves that we share the blessings of our guru equally!" replied Poochi. Poochi was a man of noble qualities and a great connoisseur. In regard. to music, he would not put up with the slighest blemish. Music to him was not to be harsh in the least. It had to be absolutely sweet, elegant and pure. He was a man of great intelligence, Gifted with remarkable powers of comprehension. Whatever he learnt from his guru, he magnified tenfold by intelligent thought and diligent practice. He had a handsome figure. He was neither very stout nor very slim. He was of average height and of olive complexion. By nature, Poochi was a very careful person in matters concerning money and material goods. He took infinite care to ensure the safety of the money, jewels and presents that he had amassed. He would behave as though the very skies would crash on his head even if a single paisa were lost! Once Poochi and Tirukkodikkaval Krishna Iyer had gone for a concert. At the end of the performance, the vidwans were offered their fees. The next morning, Poochi and Iyer got ready to leave. Poochi, as was usual with him had a final check up of his bedding. In fact he started counting his clothes and articles one by one! One of the articles was missing! Poochi very nearly collapsed! He ransacked the entire room but could not trace it. Holding his head in his hands, he sat there, the very picture of despair. His face was so pale and pathetic that I believed that the poor man must have lost something very precious. "What is the matter, Iyengarval?" I asked. His reply made it almost impossible for me to control my laughter. He had lost an old Anantana Dara (sacred thread)! I said: "Is that all! Why are you so disconsolate then?" I remarked. "What do you mean?" asked Poochi. "How could a thing disappear all of a sudden?" He started his search all over again. Tirukkodikkaval Krishna Iyer, who had gone out, returned to the room at this juncture. The smile on the corner of his lips left me in no doubt that he had been up to some mischief or other! "What has happened, Acharya? Why is Iyengarval so much worried?" he asked me. When I narrated the whole story to him, he quietly took out the sacred thread from his waist where he had tucked it away, and placed it before Poochi. Poochi got back his life. Script: S. KRISHNAMURTHY