essay on tamil culture and art unifies us .....about 500 words
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To be honest, it takes guts to say ‘yes’ to an invite to attend a festival of sacred south Indian music when you just about have a nodding acquaintance with the genre—but here I was, winging it to Chennai and then to Thanjavur to rub shoulders with aficionados of one of India’s most enduring cultural legacies. Tamil Nadu not only gave us present-day Bharatanatyam, but also the incredibly rich tradition of Carnatic music. Thank heavens I have an ear for music!
From Tiruchi airport, the country road unspools itself into the clutter of modern-day Thanjavur, about an hour away. Ugly residential blocks and a noisome jumble of ramshackle shops have muscled their way around the sacred spaces of the Big Temple at Thanjavur, the mighty landmark of this Chola bastion. Yet, there it stands —an oasis of serenity, lovingly nurtured for over a thousand years since its glory days in the Chola era.
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The unattractive tenements around may repel, but the bazaars are energetic and colourful with jasmine veni and garland stalls doing brisk business. A walk around the Old Quarter with an Intach guide puts things into perspective. The grid structure of the royal enclave with its centre of fine arts brings us to Ponnayya Nilayam, the humble residence of the Tanjore Quartet—the four brothers, Chinnayya, Ponnayya, Vadivelu and Sivanandam, were music and dance geniuses who created the template of Bharatanatyam as we see it today. Entering the pillared hallway of the house, we find a gaggle of kids learning the baby steps of this graceful dance form. A family member reverentially shows us the violin on which Vadivelu Pillai first learnt to play. Rukmini Devi, Vyjayanthimala, Alarmel Valli and many others came here to learn their craft. Someone needs to campaign hard to give this place its due respect as a historic cultural heritage site. Ranvir Shah, the Chennai-based businessman turned culture czar, who is passionately involved in the revival of the Thanjavur region’s cultural past, feels the work has just begun with the annual Festival of Sacred Music, organised by his Prakriti Foundation, in Thiruvaiyaru on the outskirts of Thanjavur.
Nestled by the banks of the Cauvery, Thiruvaiyaru was an ancient hub of southern classical music. The sacred Cauvery has sadly dwindled into near non-existence in Tamil Nadu today—we are lucky that here, in Thiruvaiyaru, we can still stand knee-deep in her waters. Later, on the road to Thiruvarur, I’m appalled by the massive, dry riverbed, which is our companion part way. It’s criminal.