Description

‘Sumana Chandrashekar’s memoir-travelogue is fascinating. Her words are constantly moving, much like her fingers do on her chosen instrument—the ghatam. We wander with her across geographies, time, communities, sentiments, beliefs, occupations and religions. At the centre of all of it lies the earthen pot. The entire universe is encapsulated within the instrument; every tone that it produces is a conversation… Song of the Clay Pot is a beautiful book that must be read by anyone interested in the intersection of society, culture and art.’—T.M. Krishna, Carnatic vocalist and writer

‘A beautifully told story of an artiste’s personal journey with the ghatam, but in the telling of the story Sumana Chandrashekar also shares an absolute goldmine of information about the history of the instrument, legend, lore and anecdotes…’—Shubha Mudgal, Hindustani classical vocalist and composer

‘A heartfelt and moving book that interweaves the personal, the corporeal, the historical, the spiritual, and the political through a journey in which the pot drum is both the protagonist and source of traditional wisdom.’—Rustom Bharucha, writer

Who was the first ghatam player in the universe? Was it Lord Ganesh, who drummed out a rhythm on his potbelly? Or Shiva, whose love for the clay pot was so great that he decided to manifest on earth as one, becoming Kumbheswara, a form in which he is still worshipped in Tamil Nadu? Or was it Gundayya, the potter, who played and played on the pots he made, until the ‘whole world danced to the sound of the pot’?
Or was it the village women who, since time immemorial, have walked home every evening with their pots on their heads, playing on them with their rings and bangles?

In this fascinating book, Sumana Chandrashekar describes her love affair with the ghatam from the time when it called to her in her dreams, leading her to Sukanya Ramgopal, contemporary India’s first woman ghatam player, and to Sukanya’s own guru, Vikku Vinayakram, who, in 1966, had played the ghatam in New York, as an accompanist for the legendary M.S. Subbulakshmi, bringing this humble instrument onto the world stage.

In tracing the journey of the ghatam, from the moment it is shaped on the potter’s wheel from clay gathered from pond and lake beds, to its entr?e on stage, Chandrashekar regales us with nuggets from the history of Carnatic music, including musical censorship that led to the rejection of the ghatam and AIR’s ban on the harmonium from 1940 to 1971. She talks eloquently about the hierarchies amongst instruments—the ghatam being fifth in the line after the main artist, violin, mridangam and khanjira—and how this affects equations between artists. She is candid about the gender biases against women artists, and the pressure to ‘conform’—an aspect she has frequently experienced, having eschewed the traditional kanjeevaram sari and neatly coiled hair, for a kurta pajama and turban.

Written as lyrically as the music it describes, Song of the Clay Pot is a deeply researched and thought-provoking book, replete with history, legend and romance, essential reading for all music lovers, and for those who love a good story.