
Pause and reflect

There is no greater state to attain in Life than when you are able to recognize that you are merely an instrument for divinity to work through you, for your spiritual talent to flow through you.
A couple of evenings ago, my soulmate Vaani and I visited Chennai’s famed Ragasudha Hall, an intimate performance space in Mylapore. It hosts music concerts all through the year. And particularly during Chennai’s music and dance season in December, it is abuzz with some great music and performances.
When Vaani and I decided to go to Ragasudha, we were simply hoping to listen to some good music. We did not know who was performing in the prime time concert slot that evening. Before we entered the hall, we paused to look at the board that lists the day’s performances. It read: Grand concert by Alamelu Mani.
Who is Alamelu Mani?
“Who is Alamelu Mani,” we wondered, as we seated ourselves.
A felicitation ceremony was underway on stage just then. The speaker, dancer Nandini Ramani, was paying glowing tributes to her guru. We soon reckoned that the guru was an old lady who was seated on the stage. What was striking was that the old lady was unmoved by all that was being spoken about her. She sat there, looking content; perhaps even a tad uncomfortable with all the attention she was receiving. When the old lady delivered her acceptance speech, she was modest and brief; she graciously thanked her gurus for their guidance and blessings.
We soon gathered that she was Alamelu Mani.
I thought to myself: “Wow! This lady looks very old, very senior. She must be in her late seventies, early eighties. Is she the one who is going to perform?”
Intrigued, I googled her name. I was amazed by what I quickly read up online. Now, there were very few links on her. But the couple of links that I read got me acquainted with this quiet, grand, old lady:
I shared the links I had read with Vaani. And urged her to look them up too. As the felicitations continued, Vaani and I hung on to every word about Alamelu. One of the speakers called her a banyan tree that had embraced many, many students and shaped their musical journeys. Another speaker called her a maestro and crowned her the “queen of raga purvikalyani” – saying none can sing the raga like the way she can.
A grand concert, indeed
And then Alamelu performed. Her performance was a quiet celebration of her mastery, her poise and her grace. It was devoid of any frills. It was precise, wholesome and endearing.
I must confess that I don’t know carnatic music at all. I can’t recognize compositions and certainly can’t tell whether a raga or a kriti is rendered well. So, I am not an aficionado. But I truly relish being at concerts. Almost always, I am in admiration of the rigor and precision that singers and performers bring to a concert.
Despite my inability to understand carnatic music, I can tell when the music connects with me. Alamelu Mani’s music connected with me that evening. Instantaneously. Witnessing her performance was like watching a batter on song in cricket. Alamelu was fluent. It was clear to me that her music was flowing through her.
There is no greater state to attain in Life than when you are able to recognize that you are merely an instrument for divinity to work through you, for your spiritual talent to flow through you. Alamelu exemplifies being in that state when she performs. There’s an effortlessness, there’s a joyful flow, which transcends the human form. This happens only when the divine is expressing itself through you.
As Vaani and I soaked in her music, we realized that the hall had filled up. Some of the people in the audience were in a state of rapture. And others were raising occasional toasts to Alamelu’s musical nuances, to her brilliance: They were either nodding feverishly in appreciation or were blissfully, unwittingly, making soft, affectionate, remarks in celebration.
I could discern that this experience was truly precious for anyone who was in the hall. I sat back to reflect on the magic and beauty of the moment: When we had walked in, we had no clue who Alamelu was. And here we were, basking in her aura, mesmerized by her mastery, her story – and her music.
There is a phrase in Urdu, “gustakhi mauf”. It means, “forgive (my/our) insolence.” Vaani and I seek forgiveness from Alamelu Mani, and from all connoisseurs of carnatic music, for us both not knowing of Alamelu earlier.
Why Alamelu Mani is important
We now surely know whoAlamelu Mani is. Plus, we also know why she is important. Indeed. Not just to the world of carnatic music, but to all of us.
In today’s hurried, impatient, world, she reflects a tehraav, a rare stillness. While everyone is chest-thumping on social media and crying hoarse saying, “Look at me, look at how great I am”, Alamelu makes no noise. She is unpretentious, humble and, in fact, invisible. She has no internet footprint to speak of. Period. This, despite all her experience, expertise and influence in the world of carnatic music. Now, that’s true greatness.
Someone performing a full-length concert at 87 is rare. In being able to do that, Alamelu showcases the enormous potential that the human form offers us if it is looked after well. It enables us to keep going despite the storms we have to weather in this journey called Life. It enables us to live well, to live happily and to express ourselves creatively. That’s one more context in which Alamelu is inspiring.
When an artiste offers their spiritual talent boundarylessly, limitlessly, without any expectation of any return, it shows. It shows in the way they are – dignified, calm, content and soaked in bliss. They glow with an inner joy. This is how Alamelu shone last evening.
Vaani and I can relate to that inner glow. As the happynesswalasTM, we believe our Life’s purpose is Inspiring ‘Happyness’™!
The experience of getting to know of Alamelu, and of being touched by her music, is one more important milestone on our journey of distilling lessons on Life and Happiness from human stories.
Clearly, someone like Alamelu Mani is a beacon of light and hope in this broken world. In fact, every once in a way, it takes an Alamelu Mani to make a statement, firmly, strongly, with the sheer power of their spiritual talent. A resounding statement that drowns and silences the cacophony that has rendered most of the world tone-deaf.
Alamelu’s way of Life and her music remind us that to live fully, to thrive, we need to have devotion and discipline. Her Life teaches us that you don’t need acclaim or validation, you don’t need followership and you don’t need fame. You don’t need too much money either – just some money to provide for a few basics will do. What you need though is to follow your bliss: Do only what you love doing and do it diligently. All else always follows. This is intelligent living. It holds the key to contentment and Happiness.
The importance of being Alamelu Mani is more relevant than ever in today’s world. It is not just in her music, not just in her being a great teacher, or a powerful performer, it is in her very being. Even as everyone is rushing to become someone (else) or achieve something, she’s just being who she is, doing what loves doing. And she is doing it so, so well.
That is why she is important.
Additional, relevant, links:
No matter what the context of your Life is, no matter how challenging the situation is, you always have the choice to be happy despite the circumstances.
4-min read
To my soulmate Vaani and me, Manohar Devadoss personified love, compassion, courage, dignity and a deep, hearty, full-of-Life, laughter!
We will always remember him for those amazing, exceptional, qualities.
As I write this tribute, his funeral is underway. He passed on a couple of days ago. He was 86.
To many, he was a rare artist, who, despite his failing eyesight for decades, and his eventual blindness some years ago, created extraordinary works of art. To others, he was Mahema’s lover and companion, until she passed on in 2008. To many others, he was an exceptional human being and a very dear friend.
Love in action
Mano, to Vaani and me, was always loving. The magnificence of his love shone in his tight hugs. Each time we met him, he would immediately embrace both of us together, his big whiskers brushing against our faces. He literally poured his heart into that embrace every single time. And he would exclaim heartily: “AVIS, Vaani, how are you both?” That moment always oozed authenticity. It wasn’t just another soulless, matter-of-fact, greeting. It was love in action. It was what being loving truly is.
Genuine, deep, compassion
His compassion too was genuine. It was expansive, limitless and deep like the oceans.
When Vaani and I first met him, in September 2015, he was very moved by hearing the story of our enduring bankruptcy. He complimented us for being the happynesswalasTM and for living a Life of purpose – Inspiring ‘Happyness’ TM! He had someone read out my book Fall Like A Rose Petal to him. And in November 2015, in an edition of our conversation series, the happyness conversationsTM, where he was our guest, he empathetically remarked: “I am not sure my pain of not being able to see and of having lost my companion Mahema is bigger, or your pain of continuing to deal with a crippling financial situation is bigger.” This ability to feel another’s pain and place it higher than your own is rare. That is true compassion.
During one of our visits to his home in Santhome, he served us his signature salad, Tulsania. He chose to serve us salad only because he knew we were on a diet. Now, he did not have someone make the salad for us. He went to the grocer’s on the morning of our visit and bought the ingredients for the salad himself. And he tossed up the salad, with lettuce and walnuts, in a fresh homemade mayo dressing. He insisted on serving his preparation to us. And he served us a couple of helpings. There is an Urdu word for hospitality called khatirdari. It defines the act of serving a guest with compassion. In being served by him, and while savoring his preparation, we experienced Mano’s legendary khatirdari.
Remarkable ability to face Life’s upheavals undauntedly
It was his remarkable ability to face Life undauntedly that guided and shaped his journey, even without normal eyesight and, over time, despite total blindness.
His entire Life is evidence of this ability.
Mahema and Mano married in 1963. They lived together for 45 years. She passed away in 2008. Of these 45 years, Mahema lived with quadriplegia for 35 years; a devastating accident had rendered her quadriplegic in December 1972. Around the same time, Mano began to have progressive, degenerative, eyesight; this eventually led to total blindness. Yet, Mano cared for Mahema, diligently, compassionately, for all those 35 years! If Shahjahan built the Taj Mahal for his beloved, Mano ensured – though his love for her, his practical thinking, his toiling – that Mahema lived through those 35 years, unable to use her limbs, without a single bedsore! He also anchored himself to stay strong, alongside Mahema, as they raised their beautiful daughter Sujatha in the midst of their individual, physically debilitating, conditions. And, for over 14 years, since Mahema’s passing, Mano lived alone. He led a dignified, purposeful Life, being immersed in his art, his writing and in his public work. “There is no point in moping and mourning about the challenges that Life throws at you. We must learn to laugh at ourselves, at our situation, and at Life itself,” he told us, when we had a conversation with him in June 2016. Excerpts from this conversation are due to appear in my forthcoming book, The Happyness Road.
His laughter had a spiritual quality
All through that conversation, which lasted a couple of hours, Mano laughed full-heartedly. He laughed even when he recalled all the upheavals that he had experienced in Life. Over many interactions with him in these past few years, Mano’s laughter, to us, became a part of his identity. In fact, if you have met him and experienced his laughter, you can hear him laugh even in most pictures of him. Vaani and I have often felt that his laughter had a spiritual quality. It was wholesome, honest and conveyed a deep understanding of what Life really is. It reflected a unique celebration of Life: Of its inscrutability, of its impermanence and of its suchness!
An embodiment of courage
Mano’s true religion, we believe, was courage. He practiced living each moment fully, courageously.
Now, courage is not necessarily evident only in popular acts of physical valor. Courage is certainly not the absence of fear either. The ability to look fear in the eye, to stand up to what scares you, is courage. So, being able to face Life’s upheavals, without giving up, without becoming bitter, is courage. Being able to withstand pain, while choosing to not suffer from it, is courage. Choosing to immerse yourself in what you love doing, when darkness engulfs you – in Mano’s case, there was physical darkness too, given his impaired eyesight – is courage. To let go, and to flow with Life, is courage. Being useful, even when you can’t be successful in a worldly sense, is courage. To live a Life of love, compassion, dignity and cheer, despite constant pain, despite enduring constraints, is courage. To laugh at yourself, at your situation, and at Life, is courage! To be happy, to be non-worrying, non-frustrated and non-suffering, despite the circumstances, is courage.
Surely, being Manohar Devadoss was never easy. Pain has been so integral to his Life’s journey for 50 years. Yet, he just kept flowing with Life, accepting it for what it is, and never once, feeling either self-pity or bitterness. There’s a word in Tamil called thunivu that personifies courage through human action. For Vaani and me, Mano’s Life will always remain an embodiment of thunivu.
Mano’s kind of courage is rare. It is quiet. But it is unputdownable, it is unmissable. It shines bright. And such courage lights up the lives of people who come in contact with those that display it.
This is what happened with Vaani and me too when Mano came into our Life. Our Life illumined with his influence. Which is why we believe his Life is his message – for anyone who wants to pause, reflect and learn how to be happy despite their circumstances.
Additional, relevant, links: