An oasis of music and melody in a swirling sea of cacophony called Thiruvananthapuram. Buildings where each brick, rafter, and tile is soaked in the sapthaswaras , an ambience where modernity waits on tradition. It is hard not to be moved by the power of the past once you step into the Sri Swathi Thirunal College of Music.
ChallengesSeventy-five years after it first opened as a music academy, the college is today grappling to come to terms with the tumultuous changes that have come over the music and dance “industries” over the decades.
Though there is lot of talk these days about “bringing back music and arts” to the school curriculum, the fact is that the teaching and learning of Carnatic music no longer enjoys a position of pride in institutions of learning. That, more than anything else, has shaped the relevance and future of this institution. Or, has it?
For S.R. Sreekutty and her classmates who gathered to speak to The Hindu , one thing is very clear. They did not come to the college to land a government job, or any job for that matter. For them, learning music and, perhaps, being able to pass on their skills to future generations is more than enough a reason to be here.
“After learning Carnatic music here for some years now, we know that music won’t let us down. None of us came here to make money; if I am able to teach music to a few children I am more than happy,” says Sreekutty, a student of the MPA (vocal) course at the college.
T. Divya Das, also an MPA student, says out that it is not as though teaching in schools is the only option for a college alumnus. “I, for one, would like to branch out into music therapy. I know that music is being used today as palliative therapy for cancer patients,” she says.
“I don’t think any of the students here sits around wondering what job he or she will get after college,” says M. Deepu, seated nearby.
BA MusicWhile the students are happy that the syllabus followed by the college allows them to learn Carnatic music or instruments such as the veena, mridangam, or the violin in a systematic and practical-oriented manner, they are also bracing for a switchover of the nomenclature of their course — from Bachelor of Performing Arts and its Master’s course to BA and MA Music.
Though this would mostly likely mean a reduction in the number of learning hours for music, the students say a BA music degree would bring them in sync with other degrees offered by other universities.
“Now, even if the vacancy of a music teacher does come up inside the University of Kerala to which the college is affiliated, those with a BA or MA in music can get through. Those with a BPA or an MPA will need special rules to facilitate their entry into a profession for which they are trained,” says V.T. Sunil, a professor at the music college.
Despite its rich tradition and standing and an excellent library, the college is yet to be made a centre for research. Also, the college’s syllabus has little, if any, room for value-added components.
“There could have been a module on audiography, on how to work in a recording studio, some computer skills…” says M.R. Bhairavi, who comes from a family of musicians.
Though a recording studio was recently set up at the college, it has no technical staff and patchy power supply. And yes, the ‘tampura room’ in the college is kept locked because there is no one to man it.
That is not all. Come 2016, the college will have only two teachers of vocal music left in service. The situation in the ‘instrumental’ departments will be only marginally better.
All this aside, when the staff and students of the college sing “Ananthapadmanabham Ashraye...,” the prayer song set to Aarabhi ragam, each morning, the notes are full of hope — for an institution and tradition they love deeply.
