Chennai, Dec 16: Personal appearance has always been important for performing artistes in projecting their image to the world at large. That's why their patrons in the past not only offered them money, but fine raiment and jewellery to express their appreciation.
We get a vivid picture in U.V.Swaminathier's account of the singers Ramaswamy Iyer and his sibling, Mahavaidyanatha Iyer. The brothers have grand shawls flung over zari veshti and angavastram, bedecked with diamond ear rings, wristbands and chains of gold, not to forget five strands of gold capped rudraksha beads, all gifts from Subrahmania Desikar, head of the Tiruvavaduturai Math.
Seeing the brothers thus honoured in the pontiff's court, envious visitor Tyagaraja Sastri was moved to protest. As a scholar, he could imply his fears of being distanced from Desikar's heart by reciting a verse from the treatise "Kuvalayanandam", "Once long ago, we were of one mind. Next we were like lovers, now we are like husband and wife. What of the future."

Smiling at the plaint, Desikar made Sastri listen to the musicians there and then. All jealousy vanished in admiration. The scholar declared that no gift could be too munificent for such genius.
From Swaminatha Iyer we also learn of Gopalakrishna Bharati, hunchbacked, light eyed, bald, a single rudraksha and vilva villai hanging from his neck, his spartan veshti above the knee. However, the handsome, muscular Ghanam Krishna Iyer rode his own horse and lived in splendour. Once, when he sold the diamond kadukkan and gold hip band at need, the donor of those ornaments made new ones for the artiste!
Stories about Carnatic vidwans are often illustrated with descriptions of sartorial magnificence. The elaborately attired composer-musician Harikesanallur Muthiah Bhagavatar announced his presence with scents and scented oils — marikozhundu, rakta chandanam, punugu, javvadu and attar. In fact, to see his portrait in the Swati Tirunal College of Music in Trivandrum was to revive olfactory memories of the artiste with princely tastes. His veshti had to be creaseless, the angavastram had to have six inches of zari, to match the silk-n-gold turban, sometimes decorated with a fan frill on top. Buttons, chains and rings of gold and diamond made a glittering aura. Admiring fans would say, "The Cauvery reeked of sandalwood when Muthiah Bhagavatar bathed in it."


Feminine couture has forsaken grandeur for gaudiness. Saris and jewels proclaim the ostentation that has replaced tradition. Fingers overflow with rings, the flashier the better. Musicians seem to have become brand advertisers for heavy jewellery. Are we surprised then that a foreign visitor should ask, "'Do girls have to be very rich to become Carnatic musicians?"