‘Santiniketan of South’

As RLV College of Music & Fine Arts celebrates its annual fest, Samabhavana, TNIE takes a look at the legacy and current woes of this institution.
Students practising Bharatanatyam
Students practising Bharatanatyam
Updated on
8 min read

KOCHI: The atmosphere is buzzing with excitement at RLV College of Music & Fine Arts as its annual fest, Samabhavana, unfolds. Upon entering the campus ahead of the event, one is greeted by the rhythmic beats of chenda melam, while Bharatanatyam students, with their anklets jingling, gracefully ascend the stairs, discussing mudras.

The scene offers a glimpse into the vibrant artistic spirit that thrives within these walls. Located in the heart of Tripunithura, the college has upheld the town’s rich cultural heritage since 1937, with many layers of history that remain undocumented, and uncelebrated.

It should indeed come as a surprise that not many city residents are even aware of what ‘RLV’ in the college’s name stands for.

According to archival records, the institution was founded by Maharaja Kerala Varma, aka Midukkan Thampuran, and his wife, Lakshmikutty Nethyaramma.

They established a small centre, a single-room building, to uplift women and provide older women with productive ways to spend their leisure time through training in stitching, painting, and kaikottikali.

Named after the Maharaja’s daughter Radha and his wife Lakshmi, the centre later expanded to include music, gaining the name Radha Lakshmi Vilasam Academy. That’s how ‘RLV’ came about.

“It became an institution when vocal (Carnatic) classes were introduced. In earlier days, we taught Jala Tarang and Harikatha. Eventually, Kathakali and drawing classes were added,” says Krishnakumar P K, a faculty in the Mohiniyattom department.

Retired deputy excise commissioner M N Sivaprasad at a mridhangam session
Retired deputy excise commissioner M N Sivaprasad at a mridhangam session

For a broader perspective on the institute, Krishnakumar leads me to principal Rajalakshmi R’s office. On her desk are pinned black-and-white photographs. Noticing my gaze on one particular photo, she remarks, “That’s our 1956 batch at the RLV Academy of Music and Institution of Fine Arts, formed after the first democratically elected government came into power.”

She points to the last row in the photograph. “In the middle is the legendary singer K J Yesudas,” Rajalakshmi smiles. “That year is considered a high point for RLV. Nadaswaram exponent Thiruvizha Jayashankar and vocalist Parassala B P Ponnammal also studied here during that period.”

In 1999, the academy, which offered diploma and post-diploma courses in music, fine arts, and performing arts, was upgraded and affiliated with MG University.

Currently, the college offers 13 undergraduate and postgraduate courses, in Carnatic music, instruments such as a veena, violin and mridangam, dance forms such as Bharatanatyam, Kathakali and Mohiniattom, and fine arts such as painting and sculpting.

“Few art institutions can claim such a wide range of courses as part of their curriculum, which is why it’s rightly called the ‘Santiniketan of south India’,” says Rajalakshmi. “Everything is housed under one roof.”

Initially, the college functioned at Puthen Bungalow, alongside an adjacent building owned by the Palace Board. However, with the introduction of new courses, space constraints prompted the government to relocate the college in 2008.

Unity in diversity

As an art institution, RLV upholds the principle that anyone who wishes to study art should have the opportunity to practise it. “The campus is a socially inclusive space. Art studies are often stereotyped as a hereditary pursuit or an easy field for the influential to enter. Here, we have students from all walks of life and ages,” says Rajalakshmi.

Harish Sivaramakrishnan performing at RLV’s five-day Samabhavana fest that began on Monday (See Page 2 for upcoming events)
Harish Sivaramakrishnan performing at RLV’s five-day Samabhavana fest that began on Monday (See Page 2 for upcoming events)

The institution also fosters an inclusive environment that celebrates diversity, including its transgender students.

Thanvi Suresh, a first-year MA Bharatanatyam student, had enrolled in the Bharatanatyam UG course in 2021. “I had always dreamt of pursuing this art form, but previously, no college accepted transgender students,” says Thanvi, who made history as the first transgender person to perform Kathakali inside a temple.

“When RLV opened its doors, I was hesitant about how I would be received. To date, I haven’t faced any discrimination on campus or in terms of opportunities. I learnt Kathakali as part of the open course in my fifth semester. I performed my arangettam (debut) along with 12 other students at the Sree Poornathrayeesa Temple.”

Similarly, first-year BA students Karthika Ratheesh (31) and Rana V S (23) joined RLV in search of acceptance in the world of arts.

“We believe an artist earns recognition regardless of their sexual identity, and that’s the power of art,” they say. “Being an artist brings value and acceptance, and we aspire to achieve that.”

As we take a stroll, at the Kathakali music department, 70-year-old Unnikrishnan Unni and 65-year-old Rajeevan E V are practising recitals under the guidance of Kalamandalam Vishnu T S.

“My goal is simple: to remain a lifelong student. I believe that to have humility in life, one must always be a student, and that’s what I am doing,” says Unnikrishnan, who retired as an assistant executive from KSEB.

Rajeevan, who initially took basic lessons online, sought to deepen his skills by enrolling in a course. “As a Kathakali enthusiast, training in music enhances my appreciation for the art. I aim to perform as much as possible,” says the former deputy commissioner at National Institute of Rubber Training.

Similarly, 58-year-old M N Sivaprasad, a BA Mridangam student from Kottayam, commutes daily for classes. Though he learnt music in his youth, his career as a deputy excise commissioner limited his practice time. “I wanted to strengthen my bond with this art form. The beats of the mridangam bring me peace. RLV’s policy of not having any age limit has allowed me to stay connected to my passion.”

Governmental neglect

While the new campus has addressed some demands, the institution still faces challenges in terms of infrastructure and academic facilities.

Shiju George, a faculty member from the drawing department, highlights pressing issues with space and resources. “Our dance classrooms are small, and can accommodate only about 15 students during practice,” he notes.

“Similarly, the music department, Kathakali, and chenda classes overlap – all known for their loud sounds. We need soundproof rooms. The drawing and sculpture departments face shortage of resources, making it challenging to provide even basic study materials for our students.”

Principal Rajalakshmi regrets having to reject many applicants due to such limitations.

“Every year, we receive nearly 2,000 applications, but we are forced to narrow down the intake to just 250. It’s unfortunate that we have to turn away many passionate students,” she says.

Shortage of staff, too, has been a longstanding issue. “Despite numerous requests, the government has not created new teaching positions,” she says.

“Currently, we are forced to recruit guest lecturers annually. This often disrupts students’ learning.”

Despite its rich legacy, the management believes RLV does not receive the recognition it deserves. The college has long sought recognition from the University Grants Commission (UGC), which remains ungranted.

According to college authorities, the ongoing annual festival, Samabhavana, is the only opportunity for students to showcase their talents. “Our students lack exposure,” says Rajalakshmi.

“We had submitted a proposal to the government to leverage RLV’s cultural significance, but haven’t received any response. The tourism department, for example, could support exchanges with foreign visitors, enabling dialogues, seminars, and demonstrations where both our students and visitors can share their cultures.”

There is always a new generation within the institution that dreams of a creative society, she adds.

“Despite all the challenges, this vision is passed down from one generation to the next. We continue to foster new discourses in art and aesthetics,” says Rajalakshmi.

‘Yesudas and I were inseparable’ - Cherthala Govindankutty, musician

I joined RLV in 1956 in the Ganabhooshanam course. Discipline was unparalleled at that time, and I had the privilege of being taught by doyens. During practice sessions, teachers often chose me and K J Yesudas to start. Over those four years, I developed a deep bond with him. We were inseparable. We lived together near the college, paying just Rs 2 as rent. We often used to watch movies at Patel Talkies. There were nights when we walked from Thoppumpady to Tripunithura after a show. As 17-year-olds, we even managed to perform kachceris in Ponnurunni and Poothotta. After college, Yesudas shifted his focus to the music industry, while I chose the path of teaching. Despite the distance, we remain like brothers. He’s now in the US. We video-call each other almost every day, sharing laughs, singing songs, and discussing ragas. At his request, I spent two years in Chennai training his son, Vijay, in music. This enduring friendship is a treasure I received from RLV.

'Teachers truly cared'- Minmini, playback singer

It was my appachan (father) who encouraged me to join RLV. He taught the basics of music to all four of his children, and living in Keezhmadu where qualified teachers were scarce, he was determined to send me to RLV as soon as I completed my pre-degree.

I joined the 1986-87 vocals batch, with Veena as my subsidiary subject. The college's legacy was overwhelming.

To be honest, I struggled to attend many classes. While music was my passion, I found myself more interested in visiting recording studios than sitting in classrooms. This was during the era of cassettes, and I became involved in numerous projects that my college was unaware of.

Eventually, I discontinued the course. Looking back, I realise that had I continued my studies at RLV, I would have become well-versed in classical music. Unfortunately, I never professionally pursued classical training.

The teachers at RLV have the ability to identify each student’s potential, and I was fortunate that they recognised mine. Whenever I missed classes, dedicated faculty members like Ponkunnam Ramendran Sir, Vinaychandran Sir, Subramanyam Sir, Tusli Teacher, and others expressed genuine concern for my well-being. They truly cared about their students and wanted to see us soar to great heights.

‘Mundu’ memories - Nadirsha, director and music composer

I was part of the 1986-87 batch, enrolled in the Ganabhooshanam course with veena as my subsidiary. Unfortunately, due to the strikes that erupted over the decision to allow Ganabhooshanam studies in private institutions, I shifted to another college after six months. Despite the brief duration, the classical music instruction I received gave me the confidence to perform semi-classical music on stage. That drives me to this day.

I learned to wear a mundu during my time at RLV, as it was part of the dress code. I used to pack my mundu while commuting to the college, as I was worried if it would come off on board the bus!

‘College atmosphere was divine’ - Seema G Nair, actor

I joined the institute in 1986, focusing on violin as my main subject. Back then, the atmosphere of the college was divine. However, I had to discontinue the course after participating in a drama during one of my college vacations. The 'Kadangatha' drama became quite popular, which eventually led to several shows. That led me into acting.

Coming from a family of artists, my mother, who was also an artist, never wanted me to pursue anything related to art. Yet, I chose the path of music. My teachers, Nellayi K Viswanathan and Bhanumathi Thamburatty, were instrumental in moulding me.

After some years of discontinuing the course, I happened to meet Nellayi Viswanathan at a function. He was crestfallen on hearing that I had stopped pursuing violin.

He urged me to continue practising. But, unfortunately, with my acting commitments and other responsibilities, I never returned to violin. Sometimes, I regret not continuing my lessons. I truly hope to return to it one day.

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