“I was tentative but curious about the artist-in-residence program. My first entry into Ananda Nilayam, the residence, stays fresh in my memory. In the quiet study, two tamburas stood waiting — their presence almost symbolic, as though they were to be my companions for the month, keeping me tuned not just musically but inwardly too.”
– G. Ravikiran
Shankar eased me into the program with his friendly banter, which always carried a mix of wit, warmth, and curiosity. Our conversations drifted easily between music, society, and literature. One afternoon, he read passages from Raga’n Josh, and it gave me a lens to think about the parallels between Hindustani and Carnatic music learning — the discipline, the subtleties of voice, and the often invisible negotiations between teacher and student.
One of my early experiences was the screening of Donizetti’s opera Lucia di Lammermoor. It was remarkable to watch singers deliver soaring, unamplified lines while moving and acting, their focus never straying from the music. I realized that, like Carnatic music, opera circles back to the most basic emotions. The mad scene and the wedding sequence had a power and intensity that reminded me of a swara crescendo in Carnatic concerts — those moments where emotion and technique reach their peak and then gently resolve.
Working with students was one of the most fulfilling aspects. While I am used to teaching members of the diaspora, but here I was nudging children of very different backgrounds to hear themselves without fear or hesitation. This year marked the 250th birth anniversary of Muthuswami Dikshitar, so I made it a point to teach some of his lesser-heard compositions, hoping to open fresh windows for the students. At one after-school ensemble session, about ten kids learned Saurasenesam and Anandamritakarshini, and to my delight carried it off with spirit and joy.
My time at Abraham Depp Elementary School was equally memorable. Addressing full classes of children, I introduced them to the idea of Carnatic complete scales — picking the familiar Major scale which is similar to the Shankarabharana Scale — and then showed how dropping a note or two in ascent or descent creates something entirely new. The children enjoyed inventing names for these scales, and soon we had playful inventions like “Buck-Eye Priya.” It was both fun and profound, a reminder of how creativity and curiosity are natural partners. For a few of the children, the interaction also offered something deeper — a sense of cultural validation, that the music and traditions I carried could connect meaningfully with their own classroom experience.
Workshops were another highlight. With the dance community, we explored Dikshitar’s temple-centered compositions. In a separate workshop, we went deep into Rāgāṅga Ragas, and the Kalyani kriti Sri Mangalambike in particular opened up new ways of thinking about and approaching that raga.
Equally enriching were my conversations with public school music teachers, including Sarah and Tracy, and others who joined in. Both Sarah and Tracy spoke about the reality of attention spans — “as many minutes on a piece as the child’s age.” It was practical wisdom. We also spoke about repetition and rigor, and about whether one grand annual performance or several smaller ones serve children better.
There were quiet moments too. My long walks through Westerville’s summer flora — the Crimson King maple, the American sycamore, the lavender haze of Russian sage — all became part of my reflections.
And of course, there was the chamber concert with only tambura accompaniment that Shankar challenged me to present in his home. Starting with a viruttam, weaving in a tanam in Lalita, and other popular pieces, I found it an experiment in vulnerability — music stripped to its essence. The residency concluded with my concert for Dhvani at the McConnell Arts Center on September 5th. Dhvani is an organisation deeply committed to classical music in Ohio, doing their work with both responsibility and empathy. The warm audience and the impeccable audio (thanks to Wyatt) made it an evening to treasure.
Looking back, the residency offered a healthy mix of comfort and discomfort. That balance pushed me to think harder about performance, pedagogy, and my own relationship with music. I am excited to continue my journey with Dhvani, now also as an advisor, and I see this residency as the first step in that larger partnership. When I recall these weeks, I know the memories will return to me like daffodils flashing upon that inward eye, “which is the bliss of solitude.”
These are moments I will carry with me, to cherish and to draw from, in the music I continue to make.
by G Ravikiran
