How M.S. Subbulakshmi's voice became a morning ritual at every home
By R. Aswath
M.S. Subbulakshmi is an epitome of music and grace. She was an uncrowned queen of Carnatic music, but lived a life of a tapsvi. Her name may not ring the bell for many from the generation of Xboxes and Artificial Intelligence. Yet they would still have heard her voice at some point. If you have grown up in South India, there is a good chance that her voice has been part of your mornings, your festivals or simply the background to everyday life.
For years, many South Indian films began their mornings with M.S. Subbulakshmi’s Venkateswara Suprabhatam. It became almost a ritual, a good-luck charm of sorts, as if beginning the day or even a film with her voice meant starting on the right foot.
Her Venkateswara Suprabhatam was first recorded for All India Radio in 1958. It was a 20-minute recording that went on to become immensely popular and eventually became part of the morning routine in homes across India.
For many of us, devotional music was not something we consciously chose. It was simply there.
I am one of those people who grew up with her voice. As a child, I remember waking up to the sound of M.S. Subbulakshmi’s music. We had cassette players at home and her songs would often play early in the morning. It could be Venkateswara Suprabhatam, Vishnu Sahasranamam, Lalitha Sahasranamam or one of her many devotional recordings.
It became part of the rhythm of the house.
Even today, I have the habit of playing her music at home. My maid often tells me that my house feels like a temple because there are chants and songs by M.S. Subbulakshmi playing in my kitchen while I am cooking. To get back the point I made earlier, my kid is tuned to the same music I was, growing up. But the only difference is he wonders who is the person behind the voice, which makes him every single morning.
I have never been trained in classical music. But perhaps because I have grown up listening to it, I have developed an ear for ragas and talas. Without sounding arrogant, I can confidently say I can make sense of good music. I was also fortunate enough to attend one of her concerts at the oldest classical music event at Fort High School in Bengaluru as part of Ramanavami celebrations organised by Sree Rama Seva Mandali. I remember being completely mesmerised by her voice and the way she sang. I have also watched Lalgudi G Jayaraman, Bhimsen Joshi, Balamurali Krishan, Mandolin U Srinivas (a child prodigy then), KJ Yesudas (who is known to have not accepted any fee for his performance), flautists Kunjumani and Neela among others. But if I am not mistaken, MSS would be a regular at the Ramanavami event.
There was something about her voice that did not require you to understand classical music. You simply listened.
That, perhaps, is the greatest quality of M.S. Subbulakshmi. She could reach people who knew music deeply and people who knew very little about it. Her voice crossed that distance effortlessly.
There are now words to describe what she meant to generations of listeners.
The Venkateswara Suprabhatam, which invokes Lord Venkateswara of Tirumala, became one of those recordings that people did not merely listen to. They lived with it. It played in homes, temples and on cassette players. It became part of the sound of the morning itself.
I still remember those early mornings and the cassette player going on almost automatically. Looking back, I realise that we were not simply listening to a singer. We were growing up with a voice that would stay with us for the rest of our lives.
There are many singers with extraordinary voices. There are many who have rendered classical music beautifully. But M.S. Subbulakshmi occupies a different space.
Her recordings became rituals. Her devotional songs became part of family life. Her voice became familiar even to people who may never have attended a classical concert.
And that is why her music continues to live on.
Even today, when her songs play in my home, there is an immediate sense of familiarity. It takes me back to childhood, to those mornings, to the sound of a cassette player and to a time when music was simply part of the house.
No wonder her voice found its way into the beginning of so many South Indian films. It was more than a tradition. It was a way of starting on the right foot.
Some voices entertain us. Some voices move us. And then there are voices that become part of our lives.
M.S. Subbulakshmi’s is one of them.
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