Underlying the T M Krishna controversy, the politics of Hindutva

The clash with Carnatic’s strong progressive tradition should have given rise to a mature debate on 'sacred cows' and caste rather than descend into a vituperative wrangle

This piece appeared in the Indian Express online on 25 March, 2024 and is scheduled to appear in the print edition on 26 March, 2024

As the storm engendered in the ‘eversilver’ coffee tumblers of Chennai’s brahmin circles by the Music Academy’s designation of TM Krishna as its Sangita Kalanidhi for 2024 dies down, let me start with some air-clearing positives. 

First, the controversy was not about musicianship. Not even his most vicious critics would deny that Krishna (along with Sanjay Subrahmanyan) is one of the two finest Carnatic male vocalists of this generation.  Krishna’s concerts (sadly, a rarity in Chennai these days – see below) are a profound experience – simultaneously, a dazzling demonstration of technical virtuosity and of the human voice’s sublime ability to touch the deepest emotional chords.  In fact, to many aficionados, Krishna’s Sangita Kalanidhi award is perhaps a decade overdue.  

Second, kudos to the Music Academy, the de facto hub of the Carnatic music universe and oft-criticised for its sniffy elitism, for being brave enough to choose as its awardee someone who has repeatedly cocked a snook at the current dispensation in Delhi and their ideology of Hindutva.  What this year’s Sangita Kalanidhi award unequivocally declares is that it doesn’t matter what Krishna’s political and social views are, he is inarguably a brilliant exemplar of Carnatic music as a singer, innovator, and inclusive performer.   In the current climate where everyone from public bodies to academic institutions, private sector corporations, and the media kowtows to Mr Modi and the BJP, it is refreshing to see an institution that stays focused on its core mission – of upholding excellence in the south Indian classical tradition – and ignores the political ramifications. The founders of the Music Academy, steeped in the Indian freedom struggle, would be proud.

Third, Carnatic music fans are not going to suffer because of the boycott of the Music Academy’s annual conference by the top musicians upset over its recognition of Krishna.  While the Music Academy is its most prestigious venue, Chennai’s Margazhi Festival extends well beyond it to scores of locales across the city (see my article in this newspaper on 2 January, 2024). Ranjani & Gayatri, Ravikiran, and the Trichur Brothers (to name Krishna’s most prominent musician critics) will all undoubtedly perform in the 2024 ‘season’ at many of these other sabhas. In fact, last December, I heard spell binding concerts by Ranjani & Gayatri at the Krishna Gana Sabha and by the Trichur Brothers at the Narada Gana Sabha.  Both these venues are far more accessible and less stuffy than the Music Academy, where the prime seats in the front section are hogged by ‘members’, mostly denizens of Chennai’s brahmin elite.  Meanwhile, as Sangita Kalanidhi, Krishna will not only preside over the Music Academy’s December conference but himself sing on one of the evenings, a huge bonus for fans who have been denied a Krishna concert at the Music Academy or any of the mainstream concert venues in Chennai since 2015 when he withdrew to protest the Carnatic world’s brahmin domination.  

The anger against Krishna ostensibly stems from his ‘woke’ anti brahmanism (despite himself being a brahmin) and endorsement of the influential social reformer and founder of the Dravidian movement, EV Ramasamy ‘Periyar’, his castigation of the Carnatic realm for its brahmin-centric elitism, and his supposed denigration of revered Carnatic icons – the composer Thyagaraja and the vocalist MS Subbulakshmi.  

However, underlying this controversy is the politics of Hindutva.  While aggressive majoritarianism has had little overall purchase in Tamil Nadu, the RSS and BJP have won over a section of the Tamil brahmin community still smarting from the disparagement and erosion of socioeconomic position it has suffered under the Dravidian parties who have ruled Tamil Nadu since the late 1960s.  The content of the attacks against the Music Academy and Krishna suggest that the musicians involved (all Tamil brahmins) are partial to at least ‘soft’ Hindutva. 

Krishna, on the other hand, exemplifies a progressive and inclusive stream that is also found in the same brahmin community and specifically within the Carnatic milieu. More than a century ago, the revered Tamil poet Subramania Bharathi composed still-popular Carnatic songs espousing caste and gender equality, and his 19th century namesake Gopalakrishna Bharathi wrote an entire Carnatic opera celebrating Nandanar, the Dalit Saiva Nayanar bard-saint, excerpts from which figure prominently in concerts even today.  Carnatic has long embraced Muslim and Christian musicians and featured devotional compositions on Jesus. Carnatic’s progressive and inclusive tradition sits squarely within its strong Hindu devotionalism.  I can’t vouch for Krishna’s specific beliefs but his public opposition to the Ayodhya Ram Mandir project draws on Vedanta and bhakti theology and practice.  And no one who has heard his moving rendition of the 15th century composer Vyasathirtha’s ‘Krishna Nee Begane Baro’ (as I was lucky enough to during the 2013 December ‘season’ in Chennai) can seriously doubt that he is anything but immersed in bhakti.

As in every other Indian cultural and social sphere, it was inevitable that Hindutva politics would enter the arena of Carnatic music, more so given its ethos of Hindu religiosity.  What is sad though is that the clash with Carnatic’s strong progressive tradition rather than giving rise to a mature debate, for instance, on making Carnatic less brahmin-centric, has descended to a vituperative wrangle between equally brilliant musicians.  (One amusing example of ‘brahmanical’ priggery in Carnatic is Ranjani & Gayatri steering clear of javalis, the well-established Carnatic counterpart to Hindustani thumris, because of their erotic content despite it being wrapped in the cloak of bhakti devotion.) 

The Krishna controversy once again underlines that even elite, educated Indians find it difficult to engage in civil exchanges over ‘sacred cows’. We tend to regard our traditional institutions as flawless and our heroes  – be it Thyagaraja or Periyar  – as semi-divinities and are unable to countenance any criticism of them, however fact-based and nuanced.  For all his pioneering reform credentials, Periyar’s diatribes against brahmins arguably cross the line into fostering hatred against a particular community.  Equally, while Tamil society and the Carnatic world have come a long way in eliminating casteism thanks in part to Periyar-inspired reforms, subtle and overt discrimination persists in many economic and cultural spheres. 

Anyone who is familiar with the Upanishads or first millennium CE theologians such as Sankara and Ramanuja or the medieval poet-saints from the Alvars and Nayanars to Basava and Mahadevi Akka to Kabir and the Varkaris will know that dissent from established wisdom and social mores is integral to the history of Hinduism and its reform.  To ‘deplatform’ criticism and challenge is profoundly anti-Hindu. Both Krishna and his critics should remember this.   

The author is a private equity investor and Carnatic music enthusiast.