A true devotee of music
Sheikh Chinna Moula, 1924-1999.
N. PATTABHI RAMAN
NAGASWARA vidwan Sheikh Chinna Moula passed away in Tiruchi (Tamil Nadu),
his adopted home town, on April 13. He would have turned 75 on May 12.
We do not know what his thoughts were before his final surrender to his beloved
Ranganatha of Srirangam, but if he had looked back on his life and career,
he was likely to have felt deep satisfaction. For he had achieved much both
as a musician and as a man. It was only on January 1 this year that he was
crowned Sangeeta Kalanidhi by the Music Academy of Chennai - and, although
he had received many awards and titles earlier, this was the pinnacle for
him. He must have felt proud of his achievements but there is no doubt that
at the same time he offered his gratitude to God.
This closeness to God had little to do with the name by which he came to
be known. The public corrupted his name from Moula to Moulana, but he was
no moulvi. He was closer to being a sufi, though he was not
that either. He chose to worship Rama and Ranganatha in addition to Rahim,
but there was no contradiction in this. His true religion was music.
COURTESY: HMV
This catholicity of outlook was as much his heritage as was the music that
flowed from the nagaswara. His ancestors, who hailed from Andhra Pradesh,
were nagaswara vidwans, who belonged to the Chilakaluripeta school, which
took shape in the second half of the 18th century. This school consisted
exclusively of Muslim pipers, although many Hindus were also trained in it.
Remarkably, the services of many members of this clan were enlisted to provide
"auspicious" music at Hindu temples even as shehnai players - such as Bismillah
Khan - were co-opted by temples in North India.
Chinna Moula - chinna in this case meant younger, as against
pedda or the elder - might have remained a provincial musician had
he not learnt to combine the Thanjavur style of music with that of his native
school; in the event, he was accepted as a nagaswara vidwan of great merit
in Tamil country. His hero was Nagaswara Chakravarti T.N. Rajarathnam Pillai,
whose birth centenary was celebrated two months ago. There was poignancy
when Chinna Moula, delivering his presidential address at the Music Academy's
annual festival last December, said that he would place the Sangeeta Kalanidhi
title at the "feet" of the late Rajarathnam Pillai before accepting it; poignancy
because the Academy had not deemed it fit to honour Rajarathnam with the
title, apparently because he had thumbed his nose at the Establishment.
The Academy chose to honour Chinna Moula for a combination of reasons. First,
no nagaswara vidwan had been given the title for 37 years. Secondly, Chinna
Moula was an outstanding exponent of the nagaswara, a maestro no less, with
a large following. Thirdly, he hailed from Telugu country and it would be
in keeping with the image of the Music Academy as an all-India organisation
to go beyond the boundaries of Tamil land to honour an 'outsider', although
Chinna Moula had lived in Srirangam, near Tiruchi, for many years and acquired
the status of an honorary Tamil. Finally, as the nation celebrated the 50th
anniversary of Independence, it was fitting to honour a man who symbolised
not only linguistic but religious harmony.
There was allround satisfaction over the Academy's choice. No one questioned
Chinna Moula's musical stature. Everyone admired his catholicity of outlook.
There was also the fact that Sheikh Saheb had not sought the honour; it had
come to him unsolicited. In fact, he had been recommended for the honour
by someone who did not know him personally.
When the maestro was felicitated by his admirers at a function held in Tiruchi,
he sat through the proceedings like a smiling Buddha, happy but unaffected,
without a trace of excessive pride. In his reply, he said matter-of-factly
that he owed his success to Ranganatha's grace. He was, one could see, speaking
from the heart. Also striking was the fact that numerous musicians, belonging
to the peria melam (nagaswara-tavil) fraternity and hailing from many
distant places, came onto the stage and offered their felicitations and each
placed a shawl around his shoulders or a garland around his neck. It was
a genuine expression of respect and affection. A close friend of the maestro
explained that Sheikh Saheb was merely reaping the harvest of a lifetime
of showing affection and respect to fellow musicians. In a world marked by
jealousy and hypocrisy, this marked the maestro out as a rare human being.
Which he was.
N. Pattabhi Raman is the Editor-in-chief of Sruti.
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