Aswathi Thirunal Rama Varma is the musical face of the royal family of erstwhile Travancore. The son of Pooyam Thirunal Gouri Parvathi Bai and grandnephew of Chithira Thirunal Balarama Varma, the last Maharaja of Travancore, Aswathi Thirunal Rama Varma’s musical journey has not been easy despite his background. But he has carved a niche for himself in the Carnatic music world. He sat down with TNIE for a chat on his life, lineage, and musical journey
Family with a rich heritage. How has your journey in music been so far??
From the time I was born, music has always been with me. I may not have learnt music formally in childhood but I used to listen to a lot of music, especially the Navratri katcheris. Concerts by Palghat Mani Iyer and M D Ramanathan used to mesmerise me. In class 8, I shifted to Christ Nagar School. Everyone there assumed that I was trained in music because I was from the palace. But in reality, I had never sung in public because of a bad experience I had as a child.
What was that experience?
(Smiles) There was a flop Hindi movie by the name Aansoo Aur Muskan. It has a scene in which Kishore Kumar plays a fraudulent swami who renders a song. He imitated all the prominent Hindi actors of that era in that song sequence. I knew the song by heart. Once a favourite relative who was visiting the palace heard me crooning and asked me to sing for him. The abrupt request left me mortified. I replied that ‘Jaya govindam, Jaya gopalam’ was the only song I knew.
There are sadistic people in most families and my family is no exception. And when I said I know the song well, a heartless person jumped at me, bound my arms tightly and told me: ‘You said you know it, so sing.’ When a four-year-old is treated thus, he would feel cornered. Sensing the tension, the individual who had endearingly asked me to sing turned pale. He told me it’s alright and that I needn’t sing. But the sadistic relative was not done: he started pinching me and forced me to sing. And I sang with tears in my eyes and a runny nose. This happened in 1972. But I still remember it as though it was yesterday. And after that, till my 13th year, I refrained from singing though I used to hum tunes.
Did you receive no support from the family?
The only support I received was from Amma Maharani, my mother Pooyam Thirunal Gouri Parvathy Bai’s grandmother. She was very fond of music and was very supportive. But she was in the last stages of her life then. She had an excellent taste for everything. (Points to a picture of her on the wall). She was quite the visionary. But the flip side of her personality was that she was extremely dominating. If someone forces a chocolate that we like down our throat, it would be difficult to enjoy it.
So, because she was dominating, she forced music on her children... Karthika Thirunal (my grandmother) and others. So that generation did not take to music. Neither did the subsequent generation... that of my mother and her sister. When Amma Maharani came to know that a child of her future generation had won a prize for singing, she became thrilled. So she called me and asked me what song I sang. So I sang ‘Oh hoy...hoy hoy hoyare...’ (laughs)... I sang it to her, someone who could call the great Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer by his first name (laughs out fondly).
Didn’t your father have a say in such things?
In our families, the women are supreme. Even now, if we go to the Sree Padmanabhaswamy temple, I walk behind my mother as the prince and my father has to walk behind me. If any of our mother’s relatives dies, we observe ‘ashuddham’, but when my own paternal grandmother died, there was no such practice. I was shocked. Even if my father dies, we can go to temples the next day. So irrelevant are the males.
Isn’t it good when women hold the upper hand in a male dominated society?
It is. I have been able to rid myself of misconceptions regarding gender, caste or colour. I empathise with people treated as second-class citizens as I have faced that treatment. But I also realised that irrespective of all the differences, if you enjoy power for a long period, everyone is the same.
I have seen the behaviour of those in power, be it in communist Russia or here. Gender, race, educational level or intellect does not matter. Like anyone, I wish to get a fair share of remuneration for the work I do. But the power that money provides is what is wrong. Even excessive physical strength or intellect can be used negatively.
When did you first start performing?
I used to perform regularly during the Navratri festival. I was not interested in other public performances. The palace circles were also not interested in me singing publicly. They believed that being from a royal family, it was not appropriate for us to perform for the public, as we had musicians perform only for us. But T V Gopalakrishnan sir would visit the palace and remind them that I must be allowed to perform publicly. Finally, the family agreed.
On May 1, 1990, at the Karthika Thirunal Theatre, in what was then Trivandrum, I held my first public concert, with V V Subramaniam and TVG sir accompanying me on the instruments. In December 1990, I did another concert in Madras (now Chennai), with TVG sir and T N Krishnan accompanying me. However, there was resistance from my family.
Karthika Thirunal, the daughter of Amma Maharani, instructed those who invited me for concerts not to pay me. They feared that the remuneration would help me gain an individual identity, something that would prevent them from controlling me as they wished. They believed I should stay at home without developing a public persona. Now, I have broken free from those constraints. (smiles)
You preferred not to use the family name or be addressed as prince. Why so?
I don’t believe in it. India became a democracy in 1947, and by the time I was born in 1968, the Travancore kingdom no longer existed. Chithira Thirunal had ruled the kingdom for a long time, calling him a king is fine. But I found it rather laughable to be labelled a prince in a kingdom that no longer existed. (laughs out)
My family gave me the title prince in school. Even at concerts, I was introduced as His Highness Prince Sri Padmanabha Dasa Aswathi Thirunal Rama Varma. Over time, it was shortened, and now Prince Rama Varma has become somewhat of a brand name. I prefer to keep things simple. On my visiting cards, articles, and even on my Aadhaar card, I only use Rama Varma.
Some consider you the rebel in your family…
I don’t consider myself a rebel, but I have a cause. I believe each of us has a purpose, and it’s our responsibility to use our intelligence and skills to their fullest. If we can bring smiles to people’s faces, that’s a great achievement. The knowledge we gain from our gurus and through our own efforts should be passed on to the next generation.
Since music is my passion, I’m particularly dedicated to it. I want to inspire the next generation to realise that classical music in general, and Carnatic music in particular, is not outdated. It can be fun, enjoyable, and accessible to everyone. It’s not something difficult to understand. If I can make people believe that, I consider it a success.
Even as you honour Swathi Thirunal’s legacy, you seem to distance yourself from the palace. Why is that?
We operate within a matriarchal circle. Some people invite me to concerts but insist that I bring someone from the royal family to inaugurate the event. But am I not part of the royal family? Either we’re all part of it or none of us are. I don’t appreciate that distinction, so I prefer to keep my distance; the world is large enough for that.
Is the so-called royal family seen as different because of matriarchy or due to the fact that members keep aloof from people?
I am not qualified to talk about them as they are not qualified to talk about me. I’m the type who integrates with people.
Is there a need to maintain exclusivity as a royal family at this time?
I do not have such an attitude. The man who cared the least was Chithira Thirunal, who was a real king. He used to wear a single mundu. People in high society often wear two masks: they present a polished exterior but can be discriminatory and petty toward those who serve them. For me, humanity is a core value, and I strive to see everyone impartially.
Do you think Chithira Thirunal’s successors lacked the simplicity he embodied?
Yes, I’ve noticed that several times. As a child, it frustrated me to see the people around the king; he was so unpretentious. But then I realised that those individuals were just regular people. If I were in his position, I might have developed a sense of pride too.
Chithira Thirunal was truly exceptional, upholding high standards. It wouldn’t be fair to compare him to others. Many of us didn’t attend formal schools or colleges, our education was private. I was born into a particular family, which wasn’t my choice, but singing is. Yet beyond all of this, there is a person: me. I don’t want to be confined or defined by titles or labels because I was born into a certain family. Those things don’t define who I am.
You don’t introduce yourself as a member of the royal family, but when people realise your heritage, does their attitude toward you change?
There’s an ancient saying, ‘Swagrihe pujyate murkha, swadeshe pujyate raja, vidvan sarvatra pujyate,’ which means, ‘A fool is respected in his own house, a king is respected in his kingdom, but a scholar is respected everywhere.” I believe that instead of restricting myself to being a king of a specific palace, I can aspire to be a king in music, which is universal. Music is everywhere -- Chennai, Hyderabad, Bengaluru, America, Australia -- so why limit myself? To reach that level, of course, requires a lot of hard work.
If I were a painter, people would associate me with Raja Ravi Varma, who is directly connected to me through my mother’s lineage. However, my connection to Swathi Thirunal comes through my father’s family. My sister and I are linked to both Swathi Thirunal and Raja Ravi Varma. But after Swathi Thirunal, there was an adoption within the family, which complicates the lineage.
Do you believe some royals currently enjoy privileges that others don’t?
Living in Thiruvananthapuram, I have experienced this. For instance, at Trivandrum airport, some members of my family use the VIP room, but I don’t. I pass through regular security and wait like everyone else. However, one privilege I do have is the 7.30 pm darshan at Padmanabhaswamy temple, a slot reserved for my family. I can’t do so at any other time, and this is mainly to avoid disturbing the public. Beyond that, I don’t enjoy special privileges.
We must try to see everyone equally, whether it’s Amitabh Bachchan or our prime minister. Then it wouldn’t be such a problem. None should be kept on a pedestal. In music, people sometimes expect favours because of my heritage, but I don’t entertain such requests. I believe in fairness and equality.
Women were not allowed to perform at Navratri mandapams till recently. You changed that...
Ironically, women were barred from performing at the Navrati mandapam during a festival dedicated to goddesses in a matriarchal family. I had been questioning this since I was 16. These are some of the obscure traditions that are followed without being questioned.
Another outdated convention is the ban on video recording. The rituals at the Padmanabhaswamy temple, such as garudu vahanam, simhasana vahanam, anantha vahanam, kamala vahanam, and pallakku vahanam, are truly beautiful. If the temple can have CCTV cameras, then live recordings should be allowed.
If I were in a position within the royal family, I would advocate the live streaming of these rituals, allowing people worldwide to witness them. It could even be a pay-per-view service to generate revenue for the temple. Because of the recording ban, we’ve lost many performances by nadaswaram exponents of the past.
Is Hindustani music emotional and Carnatic more intellectual?
Hindustani and Carnatic musicians have created the impression. They ignore the emotional and spiritual aspects of Hindustani and Carnatic music and focus on the cerebral and technical aspects. Most of the Carnatic songs are in Sanskrit, Telugu, Kannada and Tamil. Unfortunately, the majority of singers are not native speakers. They do not understand these languages and are unable to convey the emotions.
There is a strong Tamil Brahmin monopoly in Carnatic music. How has this impacted the character of the genre?
During the British era, Madras used to be very welcoming. The situation later changed. The majority of my favourite singers are Brahmins. Chennai dominates Carnatic music.
Singers like T M Krishna are trying to make Carnatic music inclusive. What’s your response to such efforts?
Inclusivity is important. Carnatic music by history has been very exclusive. It was restricted to royal courts and temples. But even in those times, when Madurai Mani Iyer sang at the Mylapore temple, people ranging from rickshaw pullers to zamindars and the governor sat together and listened to him.
Then there was K B Sundarambal, who was self-taught, and her voice had a captivating power. Musicians like M S Subbulakshmi, who was not a Brahmin, reached the pinnacle of their field. Brahmanical influence has been part of Carnatic music. But it depends on how one views it. I prefer to do something positive rather than being critical about things. I always look for merit and caste, religion or place of origin do not matter.
There have been controversies over the running of the Sree Padmanabhaswamy temple. Now it’s a committee comprising the royal family and state government representatives who run it. What’s your take?
I left Thiruvananthapuram in 1994. I was taking a music class at Kasaragod when I received an SMS in between breaks from a friend of mine asking me for a bottle of vintage wine. I didn’t understand his message. When I admitted ignorance, he told me about the opening of the Sree Padmanabhaswamy temple’s cellars. Then I checked the news and realised what it was all about.
For me, the period prior to the locating of the treasure was the most blissful as it was then possible to offer prayers without much hullabaloo: sans the intervention of security, metal detectors and police.
You also have a stake in it...
I don’t, actually.
Do you pride yourself on your royal lineage?
I don’t have a collective feeling as a royal family. But I take great pride in the lineage of Swathi Thirunal and Raja Ravi Varma. Also, I lived with Chithra Thirunal till the age of 23 at Kowdiar Palace. Even if he was an ordinary person, I would have respected him. He was a great man, and I am proud to be part of his lineage.
What is your most favourite raga?
I have been most attracted to the Hindustani raga Bihag. (sings) I’ve felt that it’s a multifaceted raga. It’s very versatile and can evoke any emotion. It was also the most repeated raga in Swathi Thirunal compositions.
What’s your goal in life?
In music, I would like to continue to contribute. I want to inspire future generations to take up music seriously. Whether in life or in music, we should be able to do something for others. If there’s no such use, it’s better to end that life. If I’m convinced that my life is not useful to someone in some way, I may most probably choose to put an end to it. I don’t have any ambitious plans such as climbing the musical equivalent of Everest! (laughs out)
TNIE team: Cithara Paul, Anil S, Cynthia Chandran, Unnikrishnan S,
Aparna Nair, B P Deepu (photos), Pranav V P (video)