If spirituality and profundity characterized his music, humility and innocence pervaded his soul, Vamshi remembers the virtuoso on his death anniversary, today.

Manjapra Devesa Bhagavathar Ramanathan (MDR) was one of the greatest musicians of our times, a stalwart but, perhaps, the most misunderstood Carnatic vocalist of the 20th century.

Going back to my days as a student in Madras during the seventies, I recall his dignified figure in the white kurta and the dhoti, with the stately angavastram draped around his neck like a muffler. The sandal paste mark on his forehead and his long silvery hair knoted at the neck lent him a typical Tamil pundit look. But the power - best described as tejas - that emanated from him was all his own.

His presence during the morning prayers at the Kalakshetra lent solemnity and grace to the simple daily assembly, MDR Sir as we used to call him, was the principal of Kalakshetra in those days, though he continued taking vocal music classes. Many musicians studied under him, but no one was really able to emulate the great MDR. Critics consider it a minus point in his stock as a teacher that he was unable to groom a single musician who would carry on his tradition.

The fact is, and anyone who knows his music will understand, that it was not possible for MDR to groom a disciple after his style. His music was his own. It was too much a product of MDR's personality, thought-processes and deep learning.

Though his students could not pick up the sublime quality of his singing style, it does not mean that they did not learn from him. Merely hearing him sing was an education. His teaching was just as original as he himself. He would narrate anectodes and jokes in the class and did not bother about the dictates of the syllabus and other such trivilaities. However what he taught was absorbed for a lifetime.

If pace and sheer grandeur characterized his music, humility and childlike innocence pervaded the soul of MDR. Rukmini Devi, the founder of Kalakshetra, loved MDR like a son. He had joined Kalakshetra a fresh Physics graduate from Kerala in 1944. He became the disciple of the great Tiger Varadachariar, and the legendary guru-shishya relationship began.

The veteran inherited the musical parampara of Tyagaraja through Pattanam Subramanya Iyer, a direct disciple of the 19th century saint composer. Tiger Varadachariar was Pattanam's disciple. In 1949, Rukmini Devi organized the young MDR's arangetram (debut performance) with the blessings of his guru and Venkatrama Sastri who presided over the function.

In Kalakshetra, everyone --- whether student or staff --- stood in awe of Rukmini Devi. But MDR managed to take the most breath-taking liberties with her and get away with it.
Once he was giving a concert in Kalakshetra prayer hall in honour of a visiting foreign delegation. Instead of beginning the concert in the traditional way, he began singing the ragas generally sung at the fag end of a concert, giving the impression that he was winding up the performance within fifteen minutes of starting it. When a startled Rukmini Devi asked him why he was doing this, he replied in Tamil, "that is enough for the apples and bananas you always give" (referring to the plate of fruits which was ceremonially presented at the end of the concert).

The students present all burst out laughing while MDR was assured that he would be paid. Of course the visitors were not let into the wisecrack. No other person could have dared to say such a thing to Rukmini Devi, and furthermore, no one else could have said it with such humor and innocence.

Another example of his audacity was the 'new version' he made of the Universal Prayer which began with the words 'O Hidden Life, Vibrant in every atom.' Reflecting on the young dance students who were constantly immersed in the study of shringara rasa, MDR remarked that the prayer ought to begin with, 'O Hidden Love, Vibrant in every Natyam.'

MDR was described by one senior artist as the musician's musician. He received several prestigious awards such as the Kerala State Sangeeta Natak Academy award, Padmashri, Sangeeta Nataka Academy award and others.

It was extremely shameful that the Madras Music Academy, one of the most prestigious cultural institutions of the country, failed to honour him with the title of Sangeeta Kalanidhi, for the reason that the award could not go to a 'Kerala musician' that year. For a man who had made Madras his home for nearly forty years, and whose art had the spiritual quality that crossed all frontiers of language, race or creed, it was a shabby treatment indeed. MDR died before he could be 'considered' for the award the next year.

M.D.Ramanathan died on April 27, 1984. No one in the music world has been able to fill the void created by his passing. We can only be thankful to All India Radio and other agencies for having recorded and preserved something of his golden voice.

Even from recordings, it is possible to experience the profoundity of MDR's music. Listening to him, I drew one unforgettable lesson: though the term laya is normally used synonymously with tala, it is something much more. After hearing MDR, I discovered that laya is all about homogenity of rhythm, melody, and poetry. It is about reposefulness and bringing out the total meaning and mood of a kriti. The music of the virtuosu was totally devoid of gimmickry and spoke to the soul.

Since M.D.Ramanathan never sought limelight, he did not become an international celebrity like some of his contemporaries. It is a pity that even rasikas close to him criticised him for reasons they themselves were not clear about. After he died a few did realize his worth, and there seemed to be some kind of guilt in the air. The feeling can best be summed up in the words of one music patron who wrote, "Future generations might only note that he was a treasure that was probably squandered."