A MAGNIFICENT MAN - SHRI S R KRISHNAMURTHY

Shri. S. R. Krishnamurthy of Coimbatore is fondly known as Krishnamurthy mama.  Though he is in Coimbatore, few know the height of his greatness.

He became famous because of a role he did in Bala’s Naan Kadavul a Tamil film.  In the film he is a mouna sami.  He plays a significant role at the climax stage in the film.

But more than that, there is much to his life, many require to know.

He was born in a Brahmin family as the eighth child and therefore was named after Krishna.

But he did not have legs and hands as any one of us have.  Yet, it goes to the credit of his parents and family members that he has been nurtured and brought to what he is today.

He is an A Grade Artist in Carnatic Music in the AIR.  Till date he conducts classes in Carnatic music for children.  He has been awarded Kalaimamani award by the State Government of Tamil Nadu.

Some one asked him whether he did not get (Vangalaya) Padma Shri.  He said it has to be given, not got (Adhellam kodukkanum, vanga kudathu)

His nephew once told me this incident: 

Shri. Krishnamurthy had applied during Indira Gandhi’s time to go to an International event at Moscow.  The District Collector was asked to give a report.  The Collector had called Shri. Krishnamurthy for an interview and perhaps seeing his physical condition said that the will recommend him for a pension.  Shri. Krishnamurthy retorted, ‘I am not a beggar who has come here for money.  I am an artist’.

He himself said this:

He had gone to meet President Abdul Kalam, when he had come to his friend’s house in Coimbatore.  When Shri. Krishnamurthy was taken to the presence of the President, Shri. Kalam asked what he wanted.  Shri. Krishnamurthy said, I do not want anything, I came to give you some soothing moments by singing, if you will allow me to sing in your presence’.  Shri. Kalam said, every one comes to me only asking for something, but you are the first person to have come to give me. I read some where that President Kalam had said that Shri. Krishnamurthy was one of the two persons who had inspired him.

Later the President made Shri. Krishnamurthy sing at the Rashtrapathi Bhavan.

Shri. Krishnamurthy is nearing 75 years.  He does his daily chores like taking food, drinking coffee, brushing his teeth, using mobile etc on his own.  He goes from one place to another within the house by rolling over.  He can paint by holding the pencil or brush with his lips.  Singing, of course his very nature.

I had the good fortune to have him as the Chief Guest for the Arangetram of my daughter.  The entire event became memorable with his presence.

My friend Periasamy wanted me to have a person who could inspire children in a school at Tirupur.  I mentioned about Shri. Krishnamurthy and told him that his very presence will inspire the children.  It happened so.  Though he was asked to speak, he preferred to sing. And the song Kurai ondrum illai marai murthy kanna, coming from him moved every one.  Even he had tears when he finished singing.

I am providing a few links for further information on the great person:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EQQ8Q83ZMo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=4&v=qsZj5VgTS3U

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=212&v=IWWfA5RPUuo

Last week I asked him how he was coping with the lock down since he cannot go out or children cannot come to him for learning music.  He said, he was spending time by painting.

If human capacity has to be tested to its limits, it is the way to defy the dictates of fate.  Shri. Krishnamurthy is a living example for that tenacity.

Where ego could rule in golden bubbles

Poem 34 from #Fruit-gathering by #RandranathTagore:

"Sire," announced the servant to the King, "the saint Narottam has never deigned to enter your royal temple.

"He is singing God's praise under the trees by the open road. The temple is empty of worshippers.

"They flock round him like bees round the white lotus, leaving the golden jar of honey unheeded."

The King, vexed at heart, went to the spot where Narottam sat on the grass.

He asked him, "Father, why leave my temple of the golden dome and sit on the dust outside to preach God's love?"

"Because God is not there in your temple," said Narottam.

The King frowned and said, "Do you know, twenty millions of gold went to the making of that marvel of art, and it was consecrated to God with costly rites?"

"Yes, I know it," answered Narottam. "It was in that year when thousands of your people whose houses had been burned stood vainly asking for help at your door.

"And God said, 'The poor creature who can give no shelter to his brothers would build my house!'

"And he took his place with the shelterless under the trees by the road.

"And that golden bubble is empty of all but hot vapour of pride."

The King cried in anger, "Leave my land."

Calmly said the saint, "Yes, banish me where you have banished my God."

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     When I first read this poem several years ago, I thought the inspiration or object behind this heart wrenching poem would have been #TheTajMahal.

     It is generally circulated that after completion of #TheTajMahal, #Shajahan had got the hands of the workers cut off and the chief architect killed. This is stated more as folk lore but no historical evidences have been adduced. Yet the grandeur of the structure made people believe in the story. So I had felt that the pain in the above poem was perhaps drawn from that instance.

     But later I came across another instance in the book #VandharkalVendrargal (Tamil) by #Madhan.

     He narrates the episode where # GhiasuddinTughlaq planned to build the #Thuklakabadfort. The Sultan had a feud with a #SufiMystic. The Mystic had cursed the project of new #Thuglakabadfort by saying that it will be deserted. The Sultan however had decided to kill the Mystic on his return from a campaign of Bengal. After the Sultan succeeded in his campaign, while he was coming back to Delhi, some one tells the Mystic that the Sultan is coming back and he may kill him on his return. The Mystic says, ‘Delhi is far away from Sultan’. As predicted by the Mystic, the Sultan got killed before entry into Delhi, at a reception arranged for him for his victorious expedition.

     On reading the above episode, I felt that Tagore had written the above poem perhaps only keeping in mind this incident. That the Sultan was returning from a campaign of Bengal, made me feel the probability, even more.

     Whatever was the inspiration, the pain exhibited in the poem is hard to overcome. It shows how the misplaced priorities of rulers and their egoistic approach to have a stamp of their name in the annals of history becomes tragic, not only to mankind, but even to themselves.

     Any project undertaken by anyone, any time, anywhere has to be, keeping this in mind.