Thrissur-native Poly Varghese is Kerala’s own icon in Hindustani music. Yet, he feels the state doesn’t recognise his art.
A product of Kerala Kalamandalam, 54-year-old Pauly started as a mridangam player and later became a Mohan veena exponent. Poly was among Grammy awardee Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt’s first students. He took his music to stages across India and abroad, and forged bonds with global musicians.
TNIE caught up with this Chennai-based maverick musician, who recently visited the state for the Swaryagna festival in Thiruvananthapuram. Excerpts from the interaction
Let’s start with some basics. Could you please tell us a bit about how Mohan veena differs from veena?
See, veena basically refers to a string instrument. However, people usually refer to Saraswati veena when they say veena. There are many types – Samudra veena, Rudra veena, etc. In Mohan veena, we can play five different string instruments such as sarangi, sarod, santoor, sitar, and Hawaiian guitar. My guru Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt’s veena has 19-21 strings. I have added two more to play Dhrupad music.
How did your guru develop Mohan Veena?
My guru comes from a family with a 600-year legacy. He was a sitar player. Once a foreigner went to him with a guitar. Guruji wondered about the range of possibilities with a sitar-guitar combo. So he used his genius by adding taraf to the guitar. The instrument was later named after him as Mohan Veena.
How did you get interested in music, and how did this journey begin?
My beginning! My musical journey commenced at the age of eight. I started learning mridangam, and started as a Carnatic musician. I studied mridangam at Kalamandalam. But I often used to listen to Hindustani music, right from an early age.
Did your family have any sort of musical legacy?
No. This is something that just happened to me.
Thrissur Christians are known for their business acumen…
I do not seem to possess such a knack for money matters. That’s why I am idly roaming around!
So, what initially spurred your music journey?
There was a Bhagavathar near my home. He was my father’s friend. Whenever I went to his place, I would hear him sing. His house was near the church. Also, at home, there was an old Murphy radio. Film songs would be aired from Thrissur, but they would air Carnatic music from Alappuzha and Thiruvananthapuram stations. This was a big problem. My sister would want to listen to film songs, and I wanted Carnatic. One day, Ammachi [ mother] was so vexed with our argument that she threw the radio!
My whole world was classical music. I cannot enjoy film music even today. My family was settled in the Thriprayar part of the Thrissur district. From there, I went to academies and sabhas where music programmes were held. My father was supportive. I joined Kalamandalam after completing Class 10, without giving a second thought. When I was at Kalamandalam, I used to go to my ashan’s house where there was a TV. On the national network, at times, Guruji [Vishwa Mohan Bhat], who was not that famous then, would appear. I used to wonder what he played.
I wrote letters to Guruji, but never received a reply. After graduating from Kalamandalam, I headed to Shantiniketan, where I met Guruji. I went with him to Rajasthan. From then, my life was at Guruji’s house. I gradually stopped playing mridangam. It’s been almost 30 years.
It is believed that the philosophy of Indian classical music is dictated by the notion that it is from the divine…
I want to break such notions. I do not see any divinity. You may disagree with me. If this is divine, every occupation is. We, too, are like scavengers. Music, to me, is an art that emerges from a space of mental strife and social conflict. How can you label divinity to it?
Are you trying to imply that art or talent is something that anyone can have?
This [Mohan veena] was an unfamiliar instrument for me. I constantly practise this instrument. Even for a scavenger or a mason, in the beginning, it would be challenging. The skill is imparted to them by a mentor. The same goes for me; this is something I learned from a guru. This, to me, is more about activism than divinity.
Isn’t passion what separates art and, say, masonry?
There is just a slight difference. Masonry and scavenging are livelihoods, but music isn’t a livelihood for me.
Doesn’t art uphold a certain kind of creativity?
A mason building a new structure is akin to me playing an instrument.
So, if Poly Varghese decides to be a mason, he could?
Poly Varghese can’t be a mason, though I have done similar jobs. During my life in Kolkata, I had worked as a painter. But I cannot do it full-time. I am tuned in the way of art, but a mason is not tuned so.
I cannot be a full-time construction worker because my taste doesn’t work out like that. I am from a conventional Christian family. The songs I listened to while growing up were gospel music, Christian hymns. My relatives are big gold merchants in Thrissur. If I were in Thrissur town, then I too would have been a gold merchant or an entrepreneur. I cannot be a business person; I am not meant for it. Even today, I cannot commercialise my music.
How do you people back home know you?
When people in Thrissur organise programmes and approach advertisers for it, some businessmen, especially jewellers, wonder if there is an artist named Poly Varghese. They assume it is some keyboard player. I used to be known as Kalamandalam Poly, and that was a big hurdle. So I just removed the Kalamandalam tag.
I have received a lot of laurels and honours. I even got it from Thailand’s Bangkok University’s Sangeeta Ratnakara. But I do not like to hold on to all that. Some people attach ‘Pandit’ to my name. I do not want to attach any titles.
Are there any issues you faced as a classical musician due to your Christian identity?
It affected me in Kerala.
How?
In Kerala, I only had three or four performances. They do not call me for any sabhas. Why do Stephen Devassy’s keyboard concerts get sold out? Because it is the keyboard. Let him do a Carnatic kacheri, will it sell as much?
‘Kalamandalam Poly’ could have been a new brand…
You need to live in my shoes, and then judge. T M Krishna and I are close friends. I was living in Chennai for a while. When Krishna started getting involved in social causes linked to music, conversations began to erupt. But before Krishna came on board, I was there in Chennai for 17 years. I have played Mohan Veena on the streets and gullies of Chennai. During that time, there was a movement to get rid of LTTE in Sri Lanka. It was a political issue. Linked to that, many of us played musical instruments and were imprisoned. But no discourses happened. Why? Because T M Krishna comes from a background of privilege, and I don’t.
You mean caste privilege?
Krishna is someone who does not hold casteist values. But caste flows as an undercurrent without even his awareness. You know how? [ TM] Krishna was thrown out of the sabha circle. I was also expelled. However, Malayalis have accepted Krishna; he is invited to literature fests and is popular in the socio-political circuit here. If Poly Varghese speaks out, that will not be the case.
Even Krishna has told me that my name is a hindrance. During my mridangam days, Devarajan Master once told me that I should be known by a different name, and suggested ‘Prasad Varadhan’. I told the Master that I had a strong political stance, and that I could not change my father and mother.
Are you a believer?
I am not. The word belief itself is dangerous. If you start to believe something, there is something wrong with you. That means you are impeding your search, you are losing yourself to a particular subject.
You said there was a problem with the ‘Kalamandalam’ tag. But there have been revered artists such as Kalamandalam Hyder Ali…
I know what all Hyder Ali ashan had to endure. When I was studying at Kalamandalam, there was a Kathakali teachers who ridiculed me, asking on my face: ‘What music will be there in a Nasrani (Christian)?’ I was so upset. Later, Hyder Ali ashan comforted me. He also taught there, but he was not even appointed as a permanent teacher there. There was also one Kalamandalam John, who was not made permanent.
Do you believe in guruthwam (reverence to Guru)?
It is just a fancy word. Guruthwam means the guru’s blessings. They can teach you letters, words, and grammar, but art cannot be taught that easily. Artists are rebels, radical in nature.
Are you saying an artist must be a rebel?
No, but an artist naturally becomes a rebel due to circumstances. Experimentations in art lead an artist to go against rules. If you want to be a rebel, you must be a breaker of rules naturally or ideologically, like T R Mahalingam or Bismillah Khan.
Are you a rebellious artist?
Life made me a rebel, thanks to the frictions and denials I have experienced.
What segregations or denials did you face as a mridangam artist?
I have faced several incidents, including being shut out of stage performances due to my Christian faith. I was once made to leave the stage without performing on a reality show. Once my mridangam was thrown away from the stage at a temple… I was not allowed to perform in temples.
Is this segregation issue only in Kerala?
Yes. I am basically a Malayali musician, but have you seen me perform in any kacheri in Kerala? Maybe four or five times. In north India, however, they were bothered only by the fact that I am a south Indian. However, as I have gained an identity, I no longer face such issues.
‘Kerala’s cultural activism is superficial’
What hurdles does a south Indian Hindustani musician face in the north?
The north-south divide is stark in my field. The famous vocalist from Karnataka, Bhimsen Joshi, also experienced it. But because of his legendary stature, he could not be avoided by the north Indian groups. Once, I was omitted from the line-up for the Konark festival in Odisha due to uproar from some quarters. Imagine my plight! But now, I do not face much discrimination.
I have a Jazz Blues band with members from the US and Australia. Doing so, has opened my musical boundaries beyond Mohan Veena. We always prop up Indian classical music on a pedestal. There is not much to be gained from that in my opinion. We must transcend such musical categorisations. Music is universal.
Why do you think you have not got due recognition in Kerala?
One, Kerala is a consumer society. Discussions are mostly on gains/losses. Second, I am a south Indian who plays north Indian music. Also, organisations here, even the ruling Left government, are not interested in the arts. The art they know is limited to Stephen Devassy, Rimi Tomy… film-oriented. Had Yesudas not sung for films, would we know him? That’s it.
You worked on a film…
I composed for Kala Varkey, which came out in 2003. The film did not do very well. Then came Jeevamshamayi. For that, I came from Bengal. I was very interested in Baul music at that time. They wanted to recreate a similar music for the movie (breaks into a Baul song of Lalon Fakir, an 18th-century Baul/Sufi singer).
How did you stumble across Baul music?
Growing up, I had been familiar with Rabindra Sangeet. But I came to know of Baul only during my time at Shantiniketan. I saw several performances there and it greatly influenced me. I wanted to learn. Another aspect of Baul music that deeply influenced me was the singers’ ability to craft spontaneous songs that reflected their rebellious spirit. This experience sparked a desire within me to learn Bengali. I also wanted to read Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali in its original form. I also had a great passion for playing traditional instruments like the ektara, gomukh, and dotara.
What languages are you fluent in?
Tamil, Bengali, Hindi, English, Malayalam, Urdu, Odiya, Marathi. I have done a drama in Marathi.
Having been exposed to the cultural scenes of many states, how do you perceive the cultural scene of Kerala in comparison?
I don’t perceive Kerala’s cultural scene as being particularly profound. The cultural activism in Kerala seems somewhat superficial.
Could the relative absence of such groups in Kerala be attributed to the state’s unique socio-cultural context, making them less relevant?
The left wing’s shift away from cultural norms in Kerala has indeed had a significant impact. It appears that they have abandoned cultural activism. They are focused on electoral politics alone.
The term ‘activism’ appears repeatedly in your conversation. Do you believe it is essential for an artist to be an activist?
I believe that art is not something that falls from the sky, nor is it something that is taught by a teacher. Art comes from the way you live your life. If you listen to the songs of the people around you, if you engage with others regularly, if you watch dramas, you will be affected by the problems in society. Even ‘Nadanpattu’ exists as a response, right? Artists react through their songs. An artist needs people to listen to him when he sings. They receive energy from him, and he receives energy from them. An artist can’t live isolated in a palace, do PR work, and move around in a Benz.
What about the concept of purity in art?
What remains here that is untarnished? Purity is something rooted in the Brahminical context.
Does that concept still exist?
Caste consciousness exists within you, even if you’re unaware of it. You express it in various ways… Can a fair-skinned man accept a dark-skinned wife? Even in movies, don’t they lighten the complexion of dark-skinned heroines?
I am experiencing it even in Australia. Are songs by Black people ever truly celebrated? Are the art forms of Black communities ever discussed on major global platforms? How long has it been since a Black artist won a Grammy Award or Oscar?
It’s talent that earns one honour, not colour, right?
I need social acceptance. I don’t think people who come to listen to me are here just for my music. I don’t believe there is such an exemplary society here.
Haven’t we moved beyond caste, at least in the realm of culture?
Let me ask you a question. If you wanted to get married, would you marry a Dalit? Do you feel love for a Dalit? Love is also influenced by caste.
Love is not activism…
Love is totally a vibrant, rebellious activism. Octavia Paz had said the world changes when two people kiss.
Shouldn’t an artist’s activism be more about music, rather than an agitation?
To play well is my activism. This is my way of life. The show of culture isn’t. But if you mean playing well is sticking to the conventions of purity, you might be disappointed. What is being discussed through my art are the social and political and personal issues.
Aren’t there good artists who aren’t in activism mode?
It is just that they don’t speak.
T M Krishna is a great artist and a rebel. But equally great is Sanjay Subramaniam, who doesn’t show much rebellion…
Sanjay Subrmaniam was the one who opposed the grant of award for T M Krishna, taking a Hindutva stance. Ranjini-Gayatri, Anuradha Sriram, Trichur Brothers… all did so. One’s politics will be revealed in one’s music.
Kabir Das, too, responded to social aspects, but never denied transcendental quality of art.
Kabir’s Rama is not the Rama of the masses.
Ustad All Rakha, Bismillah Khan, Zakir Hussain… none questioned art’s divinity.
It’s my personal choice. I will totally deny art’s facets that are not rooted in social activism.
Can’t music exist for the sake of experience, without activism?
That’s unlikely, at least for me.
Are you primarily an activist, then?
Yes, I see myself as an activist, with art as my tool.
Okay, let’s end on a melodious note. Which is your favourite raga?
It’s difficult, but I can play a folk song in Khamas raga (plays his version of Oh Mridule).
This is a film song…
I don’t mind playing film songs. By the way, did you guys find me rude? I’m a naïve fellow (laughs, and plays Bhoopali and Mohanam ragas).
TNIE Team: Cithara Paul, Anil S, Aparna Nair, Parvana K B, Varsha Somaraj, Vincent Pulickal (photos), Pranav V P (video)