T.M. Krishna is a musician I deeply admire not just for his musical abilities but also for his willingness to take on uncomfortable questions in the Indian Classical Music (specifically the Carnatic) world. Depending on which camp one falls in, he is viewed either as a progressive musician or an elitist trouble maker. His latest book "Sebastian and Sons" is a must-read whether or not one is into Carnatic music. This is a story about the first family of Mridangam (the foremost percussion instrument in Carnatic) makers who belonged to the Dalit (formerly "untouchable") communities and were often behind the foremost artists majority of them being upper caste Brahmins. In a quest to shine the light on these makers, T.M.Krishna walks us through the process of making Mridangams and helps us appreciate the art, the craft, the science and the sheer physical labor that goes into making these percussion instruments which are so revered and worshiped by the upper caste.
You can ask anyone from India for characteristics that define a Brahmin and I bet vegetarian, cow-lover, classical music connoisseur will show up in a list that may include religious and intellectual. So it is ironic that the Mridangam is a skin instrument that relies on healthy cows (especially female that have given birth to one or two calves) being slaughtered specifically for their skin, a fact that I was ignorant of or perhaps blind to. T.M.Krishna shines as a historian of music and the legwork he has done for this book has taken him to slaughterhouses and into the homes and workplaces of the legendary makers. At the heart of the book is the relationship between Mani Iyer and Parlandu, the artist and the maker, who together changed Mridangam and Carnatic music. However, Parlandu's story is rarely talked about or even known and this book attempts to change that. Although both Mani Iyer and Parlandu are no more, their stories are told through their progeny and students. In giving the "other" a voice, TMK is careful enough to make sure he is only a medium and the only judgements he passes are about the music.
This is also a book about privilege. There is a quote that is attributed to Chomsky that says "The more privilege you have, the more opportunity you have. The more opportunity you have the more responsibility you have." TMK is not adopting a holier-than-thou attitude in this book. As a man of privilege he is taking that opportunity to understand the sources of his privilege and feels that the whole Carnatic music world has a responsibility towards these makers who need to be not just acknowledged but also celebrated. Cow protection shows up in the Indian constitution and there are many who think that beef eating should be banned in India. However, the classical arts which rely on slaughtering animals especially the cow exposes the hypocrisy of this cow-loving stance.
Personally, this book affected me a lot. As a Brahmin I grew up surrounded by Carnatic music. I was also surrounded by numerous "others" who did not belong to my social class. My parents and even my grandparents were generally very tolerant, but there were so many coded behaviors which were passed along from a place of privilege. There were numerous people in our lives who did not belong to our social strata and on whom we depended on - my mom's rickshaw driver, our maid, the lady who sold flowers, the lady who ironed our clothes, the newspaper recycler, the bicycle repair man, and the watchmen of our colony. My parents showed kindness to them, loaning them money, offering them a cup of coffee or food. My mom would always get down from her rickshaw when in an up slope and would walk next to the puller so as to not burden him unduly. My dad even attended the weddings of a couple of them and was the first to show up to the police station when one of them was wrongly accused of theft by someone else in our community. However the benevolence was often marked with certain class conditioning that both sides followed. They never sat on our couch, never entered our kitchen, always had a separate set of utensils from which they ate or drank and always addressed my parents with respect. I wish i can say I knew each of their names. Unfortunately a few were simply referred to by their professions while they addressed my parents as Sami or Iyer amma. Ironically the lady who ironed our clothes was christened by my brother as a toddler as "Sami" as he thought she was announcing herself when she was really addressing my dad - so in an interesting double twist she became "Sami" (upper class male) at least at our home until the end of her life. When TMK tries to understand who Parlandu truly was he is unable to break down the wall and beyond his technical skills was never able to get to the stories about the man behind the Mridangam. Similarly, I often look back on these people who formed part of my daily life and realize that I never really knew them as the caste barriers cropped up.
This book is an eye-opener on many levels, but especially on a personal level if you grew up in a privileged position. Privilege does not automatically mean a position of financial or political power. On the contrary many Brahmins (including my own family) were not wealthy. There were no ancestral properties. My parents didn't even own a cycle, or great luxuries, relied on public transportation for their entire working career and worked hard to pay off their mortgage. They had little to no influence in the corridors of power. Their votes hardly counted. However, we all grew up with a feeling that our lives and stories and that of our ancestors mattered and that was a feeling that gave us confidence in our future. Decades of Dravidian movement that had an anti-Brahmin policy at its core or an affirmative action policy that tried to shut off Brahmins from public sector jobs or educational institutions had still not significantly dented the cultural cache of the community or the upward movement of the class. The privilege also meant that someone else did our dirty jobs for us - whether that was repairing the sewer of the city or slaughtering a cow for its skin for our precious instrument. Although unchained from the shackles of caste in the US, I realize that I need to be continuously aware of my privilege. TMK's book is a clarion call for awareness more than anything else.
You can ask anyone from India for characteristics that define a Brahmin and I bet vegetarian, cow-lover, classical music connoisseur will show up in a list that may include religious and intellectual. So it is ironic that the Mridangam is a skin instrument that relies on healthy cows (especially female that have given birth to one or two calves) being slaughtered specifically for their skin, a fact that I was ignorant of or perhaps blind to. T.M.Krishna shines as a historian of music and the legwork he has done for this book has taken him to slaughterhouses and into the homes and workplaces of the legendary makers. At the heart of the book is the relationship between Mani Iyer and Parlandu, the artist and the maker, who together changed Mridangam and Carnatic music. However, Parlandu's story is rarely talked about or even known and this book attempts to change that. Although both Mani Iyer and Parlandu are no more, their stories are told through their progeny and students. In giving the "other" a voice, TMK is careful enough to make sure he is only a medium and the only judgements he passes are about the music.
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| A picture from the book - Mani Iyer and Parlandu |
This is also a book about privilege. There is a quote that is attributed to Chomsky that says "The more privilege you have, the more opportunity you have. The more opportunity you have the more responsibility you have." TMK is not adopting a holier-than-thou attitude in this book. As a man of privilege he is taking that opportunity to understand the sources of his privilege and feels that the whole Carnatic music world has a responsibility towards these makers who need to be not just acknowledged but also celebrated. Cow protection shows up in the Indian constitution and there are many who think that beef eating should be banned in India. However, the classical arts which rely on slaughtering animals especially the cow exposes the hypocrisy of this cow-loving stance.
Personally, this book affected me a lot. As a Brahmin I grew up surrounded by Carnatic music. I was also surrounded by numerous "others" who did not belong to my social class. My parents and even my grandparents were generally very tolerant, but there were so many coded behaviors which were passed along from a place of privilege. There were numerous people in our lives who did not belong to our social strata and on whom we depended on - my mom's rickshaw driver, our maid, the lady who sold flowers, the lady who ironed our clothes, the newspaper recycler, the bicycle repair man, and the watchmen of our colony. My parents showed kindness to them, loaning them money, offering them a cup of coffee or food. My mom would always get down from her rickshaw when in an up slope and would walk next to the puller so as to not burden him unduly. My dad even attended the weddings of a couple of them and was the first to show up to the police station when one of them was wrongly accused of theft by someone else in our community. However the benevolence was often marked with certain class conditioning that both sides followed. They never sat on our couch, never entered our kitchen, always had a separate set of utensils from which they ate or drank and always addressed my parents with respect. I wish i can say I knew each of their names. Unfortunately a few were simply referred to by their professions while they addressed my parents as Sami or Iyer amma. Ironically the lady who ironed our clothes was christened by my brother as a toddler as "Sami" as he thought she was announcing herself when she was really addressing my dad - so in an interesting double twist she became "Sami" (upper class male) at least at our home until the end of her life. When TMK tries to understand who Parlandu truly was he is unable to break down the wall and beyond his technical skills was never able to get to the stories about the man behind the Mridangam. Similarly, I often look back on these people who formed part of my daily life and realize that I never really knew them as the caste barriers cropped up.
This book is an eye-opener on many levels, but especially on a personal level if you grew up in a privileged position. Privilege does not automatically mean a position of financial or political power. On the contrary many Brahmins (including my own family) were not wealthy. There were no ancestral properties. My parents didn't even own a cycle, or great luxuries, relied on public transportation for their entire working career and worked hard to pay off their mortgage. They had little to no influence in the corridors of power. Their votes hardly counted. However, we all grew up with a feeling that our lives and stories and that of our ancestors mattered and that was a feeling that gave us confidence in our future. Decades of Dravidian movement that had an anti-Brahmin policy at its core or an affirmative action policy that tried to shut off Brahmins from public sector jobs or educational institutions had still not significantly dented the cultural cache of the community or the upward movement of the class. The privilege also meant that someone else did our dirty jobs for us - whether that was repairing the sewer of the city or slaughtering a cow for its skin for our precious instrument. Although unchained from the shackles of caste in the US, I realize that I need to be continuously aware of my privilege. TMK's book is a clarion call for awareness more than anything else.
I cannot say enough about how much I agree with your piece (and with tmks views in general). I have to read this book. Privilege is not money and it is not power, something much much deeper than these. Something much more intangible and therefore much more pervasive!
ReplyDeleteThanks P! As I replied to Srihari below, I feel if a person can say they are shielded from dirty work and uncomfortable truths - then that is a clear indicator of privilege. This question makes privilege more tangible for me so I can recognize it.
DeleteBeautifully articulated. Also, you bring in your own experience in a sensitive way, adding much needed nuance in this time of deep divisions and "binary" opinions. Privilege is closely linked to opportunity as pointed out, but that link is often through identity.
ReplyDeleteThanks Srihari! Even if i take caste out of the equation, I feel the definition of privilege as "someone else doing the dirty work" applies to lots of groups including nation states. This is the definition that makes most sense to me in my current stage of life. Exporting toxic waste and/or recycling materials, importing cheap labor, not questioning supply chain practices, sending other people's children to war - all are indicators of privilege.
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DeleteFully agree. What I meant was that the privilege is maintained through identity. That identity could be race, caste, occupation, nationality, language, or any of the other creative ways we opportunistically group ourselves into. In a sense, it is a very "natural" thing to do. Our lives are "denatured", but our minds are still cavemen-like. To really fix this, I feel we need to be a bit more grounded (closer to nature) and at the same time develop seemingly unnatural feelings like empathy, compassion and love. That balance is difficult to achieve especially given our fetish for technological progress, but not impossible. We perhaps need to give it some thought as we ponder where humanity is headed.
DeleteNice writeup. Let me see if i can read that book. my take on previlege is "things that you NEED and CAN do snd FIT to do. But someone else is doing for you". To me there are jobs. there are no good or dirty jobs. some are physically exhausting and some or mentally exhausting.
ReplyDeleteFather in a home has previlege as the mother takes up all the "jobs". Kids in the house are grownup previleged as nuclear family parents take up the jobs.
Today, I was taking care.of my 2.kids without my wife and I realised how "previleged" i have been... so I believe that has to start within each home first. once you respect other beings at home equally or better, you will automatically start to love and respect the society around you.