It was a day I will always remember - that afternoon in 1974 when the great singer M.S. Subbulakshmi sat beside me on the floor of her Chennai home and served me on a banana leaf the south Indian delicacy 'boli' she said she had prepared for young visitors.
I had gone to her that early afternoon three decades ago to get her reaction to the announcement in Manila that she had won the Ramon Magsaysay award for her contributions as a singer.
It was an assignment I volunteered to do even though as southern regional chief of UNI news agency I could have deputed any of the dozen staff journalists at my disposal for the coverage. When I reached her residence I was directed to first meet her husband T. Sadasivam in the adjacent building that functioned as the office the Kalki magazine. When I told Sadasivam about the purpose of my visit, he readily took upon himself the task of narrating to me how MS reacted on receiving the news of the award.
I was surprised at this and politely told him that I would like to interact with her directly not only for the immediate purpose of getting her reaction for publication in the media but also to discuss with the great musical genius some issues that had been troubling me relating to rendering of compositions under the two systems of Indian classical music -- Hindustani and Carnatic.
I explained to him that I belonged to a family of musicians with a great tradition as my elder sister Parvathi had been taught music by none other than Manjapra Anantharama Bhagavathar, the aasthaana vainika (court veena player) at the Travancore maharaja's palace.
Sadasivam then let me go to MS, but said I should report back to him before leaving the place.
MS was in the midst of a rehearsal of a children's dance programme scheduled for that evening. But on hearing that I had come to speak to her about the Magsaysay award, she ushered me into an interior hall with no furniture. We sat on the floor and I gave her a brief idea of my own music background which she heard with rapt attention and then commented, "I would want to hear you singing, but the children's dance programme I am giving finishing touches to is coming in the way. I'll be back in a minute."
She got up and went to the kitchen and brought out a receptacle containing boli, a sweet preparation like roti. Placing a banana leaf in front of me as I sat cross-legged she put one boli on it, asking whether I would eat one more. She then poured a spoonful of ghee on the boli and sat down in front of me, like my sister used to do at home when serving food.
As I ate the sweet with relish and saw the sincerity and affection that she showed me, I put the question, "How did you feel on hearing the news of the award?"
"It is all due to the kindness and blessings of Periyaval," she said, referring to Shankaracharya Chandrasekharendra Saraswathi of the Kanchi mutt, of which MS was a great devotee.
I wanted her to say more.
But, no, she seemed to betray a feeling of regret that she might have already offended her husband by giving her reaction to me whereas the rules of the household apparently were that Sadasivam alone spoke for each of the inmates, including MS.
After wishing her all the best for the evening programme, I moved back to Sadasivam's office and got his 'official' reaction on behalf of MS, though in my report I highlighted the tribute MS paid to Periyaval, the predecessor of Sankaracharya Jayendra Saraswathi.
After I completed my report and sent it on the wire, I sat back to savour the august presence before me of the greatest singer of our times of devotional songs -- of Meera bhajans, of Adi Sankara's Bhaja Govindam, of kritis or classical compositions of the trinity of Carnatic music, or of Tamil composers.
The simplicity, the serenity and spiritual bliss that I discerned on her radiant face at the meeting as well as during her concerts later have had a profound effect on me and inspired me through the years.
The easy and fluent manner in which she traversed the lower and upper octaves of the musical scale in presenting the most intricate kritis has amazed me. More than scholarship, it is the fluency of singing and the melody that begets an air of peace that distinguished her concerts. For a long time she had given performances only for charitable purposes.
There can be no other MS, the musical genius, the epitome of selfless devotion and kindness.
(The author, besides being a director of IANS, is a Carnatic vocalist)
--Indo-Asian News Service