“I still remember the exact moment when music struck me—not just as a sound, but as a deep inner calling. I must have been around five years old when I heard my father play the mridangam in our living room. The way his fingers shaped rhythm, the way the air vibrated with each stroke—it was a revelation. Not just a performance, but a form of devotion. That moment planted the seed.
My father was not only a passionate percussionist but also an avid collector of recordings—he had every available live concert of the legendary Palani Subramania Pillai, and would often recount having witnessed his performances. He introduced me to the great masters: Trichy Sankaran, Palghat Mani Iyer, and of course, the extraordinary violinist Dr. L. Subramaniam, whose musical voice stirred something in me early on. My father saw to it that I didn’t just listen, but absorbed. Every Wednesday from 2 to 6 p.m., and on weekends from 2 to 5 p.m., I was immersed in practice and konnakol recitation. Between the ages of 9 and 12, this rigorous schedule became the rhythm of my life—balanced with school, and eventually with lycée.
By the age of 14, I was already performing in public, learning the difficult art of accompaniment. My father insisted I understand the soul of the mridangam—not just how to play, but how to make it speak. He placed immense importance on nādham—the quality and clarity of sound—and so, shaping beautiful sound became my first aesthetic challenge.”
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