The stories of the veena are many. Steeped in the mythology of India and in the feminine divine, the instrument holds a particular and growing place in Indian, Eastern and global musicianship.
It is easy to fall into the trap of beginning by locating the veena in written history as a marker of validity. Why do we care about a particular validation of histories needing inscription on a stone 10,000 years ago, or noting on bark 1,000 years ago? Is it not enough that it occupies the aural memories and cultural-making of a large region in the world, as an ancient and contemporary source of musicality?
Perhaps we can celebrate that its ancient-ness lies in the multiplicity of its contemporary sounds, meanings and uses, rather than in certain text-form? Those sounds are inextricably linked to ways of building knowledge and learning, held in the hands of the images of the Hindu Goddess Saraswati. She holds symbols of literature, arts, and meditative practice, reminding us of the value of these knowledges.
The stories of the veena are also stories of people. People like my grandmother - Bhagirathi Narasimhan - who moved to Australia late in life to be near her family; whose veena was her deity, friend and an umbilical cord to home in times of great need. A self-taught musician of prodigious talent and a particular freestyle that comes from being steeped in tradition and yet being on the fringes because of exclusive notions of musical pedigree and gender norms. In counterpoint, her access was not available to many outside certain communities.
Thirty-five years after my family moved to Australia, my grandmother’s veena passes to my mother and then to me. I watch as my mother persuades my son gently and not-so-gently to practice the veena. My own veena practice takes shape and is increasingly linked to place. In the community of music that I belong to, it is a cultural practice that sits within community.
Our most prodigious and talented musicians and dancers in Australia and India and around the world, who make us weep with longing and bliss, play at community festivals, sing in our homes and in community halls, and teach our children.
Indu's mother, Dr. Malathi Nagarajan with her grandson Siddhartha Balachandaran
My own ebbing and flowing practice has had a home in this space for over three decades. As my practice moves increasingly into the mainstream public’s eye and as I make new work in Australia, it seems appropriate to celebrate this ecology by elevating practitioners in the community. Working with First Nations peoples has deeply influenced how I see myself in relation to people, history and culture. One re-learns to locate in the collective and within a time-scape that incorporates the past and future.
The veena is a large instrument, stretching over 1.5m, with a resonator dome on the right side, which rests on the floor, and a smaller functional dome on the left which rests on one’s thigh. The size makes it a challenge to transport, and repair in Australia is impossible. A particular form of terror used to accompany migrants in the 70s and 80s, as customs officers were known to break the veena resonator in their zealous quest to eradicate pests. Fortunately, those days are of the past. It has 24 frets, four melodic strings, and three drone strings that aid rhythm.
Indu playing at the Ragapriya Sydney Margazhi utsavam 2020/21 - YouTube Link for Video
Music is made by plucking the melodic strings with the right fingers and gliding and pulling these strings with the left hand, which is curved under the neck of the veena. It is played sitting on the ground, cross-legged. It is said by veena-making artisans and in music lore that the tonal quality of a veena improves as it is played.
My son learnt his first notes on an 85-year-old veena bought for my grandmother by the legend Sattur Subramaniam when she was nine years old. That poor instrument bore the brunt of four generations of early learning. The veena I play, however, has enjoyed the best of my grandmother and mother, and I am convinced plays itself in my best moments.
There is a little website – musicteachersonline – that I listed myself on many years ago when I used to teach. Although I have paused teaching, I observe with interest and joy an increasing flow of enquiries that come through an obscure, out-of-date listing with my basic contact details. I receive and triage them as best I can. They are from mothers wanting their children to begin their musical journey. They are from adults – men and women – who are, at last, able to consider starting or re-starting their own musicianship, which calls to them with increasing urgency. The latter group are inspiring and humbling in their reclamation of what matters to them. This series of veena writings is also for them, to make visible an instrument that is theirs, and people in the community who cherish it.
I recently read Revive, the federal government’s new National Cultural Policy. It is hopeful in its recognition that the cultural narrative of Australia is made by many, always on the lands of First Nations peoples. Many of us do not see ourselves in ballet, opera and symphonic music, which occupy our most significant cultural spaces. This norm is perpetuated by our education system. I am bemused by the western-centred practices of “artistic excellence” my children are forced into. We can and must, however, see and make ourselves into the future that Revive promises. A future where arts are not separated from culture, because people separated from their homelands carry culture with them and these are gifts to us all.
In the spirit of contributing to the cultural landscape of Australia, I offer these stories of musicians who make culture and art and story through the veena. Our veenas are living, personal, community, and oral histories. We hear our music and our stories before we learn to read or speak. Our veenas have been held lovingly by those before us and will be held by those after us. These stories are a way of making mine, ours, and yours.
In this ABC Art Works video Indu speaks about the Saraswati Veena as performed in Belvoir Theatre's Jungle and the Sea.
For the Veena Series on SAARI Collective Indu spoke to four veena artists from Sydney. Read their profiles from the links below.
Feature image credit: Sriram Jeyaraman
Indu Balachandran is a Lifelong Atlantic Fellow, musician (veena) and cultural producer, and a senior executive and board director in the social-purpose sector. You can connect with Indu on LinkedIn.
