• Your association with the dance field goes back several decades. At The Music Academy, you provided vocal support for Vid. Shantha Dhananjayan in 1995 and Vid. Vyjayantimala Bali in 1998. Looking back at this remarkable journey, when did you first begin singing for dance? 

During those years, I was actively performing solo vocal concerts, and I was also learning Bharatanāṭya. I have always been deeply drawn to both music and dance and they became equally important to me - like my two eyes.

When I was around 14 years old, I did my aṟaṅgēṟṟam in Bharatanāṭya under the tutelage of Tirukokarnam Ranganayaki Ammāḷ, who was then a faculty member at Sri Sathguru Sangeetha Vidyalayam, Madurai. Following it, when I was given an opportunity to sing for Swamimalai Śrī Rajarathinam Piḷḷai, I did not fully realise the significance of what would become my debut in the field of dance music.

However, my real entry into this field began in 1993, when I was invited to sing for my nieces’ aṟaṅgēṟṟam in the United States. I immediately approached the Dhananjayans for guidance, and they advised me to gain experience by singing for local dance programmes before taking on the larger stage. Taking their advice to heart, I became a regular visitor to their dance school to learn compositions from their repertoire. This was an invaluable period of learning, and it laid a strong foundation for my journey as a dance vocalist.

Having heard me perform at one of their concerts, Smt. Kalanidhi Narayanan gave me an opportunity, which was another important milestone in my journey. Being the youngest daughter of Saṅgīta Kalānidhi Dr. S. Ramanathan, I had the privilege of attending concerts and lecture demonstrations by many of these stalwarts even before I began working with them. This gave me the opportunity to observe and imbibe their musical sensibilities from a young age.

Gradually, veterans such as Vid. Vyjayantimala Bali began inviting me to perform for their dance recitals, and that is how my journey in the field of dance music evolved. 

• Having established yourself as a solo vocalist, what drew you towards singing for dance? How was this choice received by the music fraternity, and did you encounter any preconceived notions about singing for dance as compared with solo concert performance?

Yes, there were quite a few people among my father’s students and well-wishers who openly questioned my decision to sing for dance, especially since I was already an established solo vocalist. However, despite their reservations and advice, my deep love for dance continued to draw me towards it, and I found immense fulfilment and happiness in this journey.

In a solo vocal concert, we prepare a repertoire of compositions and present our manōdharma through improvisational aspects of music. When singing for dance, however, the music is accompanied by a visual interpretation of the compositions through the dancer’s expressions and movements. This gave me a different perspective and helped me bring out the emotions inherent in the music more vividly.

Above all, it was the learning process during dance rehearsals that gave me the greatest joy. Working closely with dancers enabled me to understand the nuances, subtleties and intricacies of the art form in a way that went far beyond merely learning and rendering compositions. Ultimately, what mattered to me was not how the fraternity perceived my choice, but the profound artistic fulfilment that this journey brought me.

• Dr. S. Ramanathan was not only a legendary musician and musicologist but also a gifted composer. What are your most cherished memories of his compositions, and how did growing up in his musical environment influence your own journey as a composer?

Appā was indeed a remarkable composer, but what I remember most is his humility. I have never seen him draw attention to his own creations. I vividly recall an incident during one of his classes, when we were singing alongside his senior students, including Smt. Seetha Narayanan, Smt. Seethamani Srinivasan, Smt. Sundaravalli and Smt. Savithri Sathyamoorthy. That day, he taught us a new composition in Hēmavati, Ika Tāḷa Lēnurā. At the end of the class, Smt. Seetha Narayanan exclaimed how beautiful the composition was and asked if it was a Tyāgarāja kṛti. Appā merely smiled, and it was only upon our insistence that he humbly admitted it was his own creation. We were all pleasantly surprised and delighted. That incident remains a lasting reminder of his unassuming nature.

We therefore had very few opportunities to witness his compositional process firsthand, apart from learning a handful of his works, including the Rītigauḷa varṇa, the Behāg varṇa and the Hēmavati kṛti. However, I had the privilege of dancing to his tunes for Tiruppugaẕ and the Āycciyar Kuṟavai from Cilappadikāram, under the guidance of Tirukokarnam Vid. Ranganayaki Ammāḷ and Vid. Vyjayantimala Bali, respectively, during the December music conferences at the Tamil Isai Sangam. Learning these compositions gave me an appreciation of how sensitively he chose rāga-s to suit the context, meaning and emotional content of the text.

My own journey as a composer began around 2000, when I was frequently singing for Dr. Lakshmi Ramaswamy. She had received a scholarship that required her to present a new composition, and she approached me to compose one for her. I was initially very hesitant, but her persistent encouragement persuaded me to give it a try. Her positive response gave me the confidence to explore this avenue further. With every subsequent dance production, my interest grew, and what began as a tentative first step gradually developed into a genuine passion for composing music for dance.

Although I had limited opportunities to observe appā composing directly, growing up in his musical world undoubtedly shaped my sensibilities, particularly my appreciation of the relationship between rāga, sāhitya and expression.

• You and Prof. S. Raghuraman have made significant contributions to the dance field, with your respective expertise in mātu (lyrics) and dhātu (melody). How did this creative partnership begin?

My husband, Prof. S. Raghuraman, was a Tamiẕ professor by profession, and his entry into the dance field happened quite organically. Whenever he sat in on my rehearsals or discussions with dancers, he would notice instances where the meaning of a line in a composition did not seem to align with the way it was being interpreted or portrayed in dance. I would often discuss his points and ideas with my dancer friends who visited him for further clarification, and gradually, his involvement grew. Soon, dancers began approaching him regularly for his insights into Tamiẕ literature and his suggestions on interpreting the sāhitya.

As he began conceptualising ancient Tamiẕ poems and verses from Saṅgam literature for dance, I would set them to tune. The response from dancers was very encouraging, and this gradually developed into a creative partnership in which his strength in the poetry complemented my work in melody. Dr. Lakshmi Ramaswamy played a vital role in this journey by giving us opportunities to work on rare and ancient literary works. These projects were enriching learning experiences for both of us and helped us explore new dimensions of presenting Tamiẕ literature through dance.

One of the most fascinating aspects of our collaboration has been discovering the multiple layers of meaning within Tamiẕ poetry. For instance, a word or phrase such as aṟivillādavan can be split and interpreted as aṟivu illādavan or aṟivil ādavan, yielding entirely contrasting meanings. Such wordplay, known as slēḍai or yamaka, offers wonderful creative possibilities. I have sometimes composed different sangatis for the same phrase, highlighting the alternative word divisions and meanings through music.

Similarly, the concept of iṟaicci (where the apparent meaning of an expression conceals a deeper, implied meaning) has inspired us to experiment with alternating naḍai-s to bring out these layers of interpretation. Such musical distinctions help dancers understand the nuances of the sāhitya and communicate them more effectively through their abhinaya.

Another aspect I particularly enjoy is choosing rāga-s that complement the theme of a composition. For a sun-themed śabda, for instance, I might explore rāga-s such as Bauli or Sūryā, while Kōkiladhvani or Hamsanādam might lend themselves to a bird-themed composition. These are some of the ways in which we try to create a close relationship between the literary content, its musical treatment and its visual interpretation in dance.

• You have introduced some beautiful compositions of your father, Dr. S. Ramanathan, to the dance repertoire. Could you share a particularly memorable moment when you felt that his music had found a special place in the dance world too?

Appā composed ten varṇa-s in all, including two lakṣaṇa varṇa-s in Gōpriyā and Pūrvikalyāṇī. I remember learning lakṣaṇa gīta-s during my childhood, but composing lakṣaṇa varṇa-s was an especially distinctive aspect of his work. His other varṇa-s were tāna varṇa-s, rather than pada or daru varṇa-s, which are more commonly used in Bharatanāṭya. Naturally, his compositions did not find their way into the dance repertoire very often.

A significant opportunity arose during Appā’s centenary celebrations, when the Nāṭyāraṅgam specified the inclusion of his compositions in a dance presentation. Dr. Lakshmi Ramaswamy chose his Behāg varṇa, Aṅgayarkaṇṇiyē, for this occasion. 

Another memorable instance was when my niece, Lavanya Raghuraman, was learning under the Dhananjayans. As they were preparing for her aṟaṅgēṟṟam, they asked me to suggest a composition of Appā’s that could be included in her mārga. That is how his kṛti Āḍiḍum Arasē in Suruṭṭi found its place in the dance repertoire. It was particularly gratifying to see one of his compositions being explored in a dance context and reaching a new audience.

Many of Appā’s compositions feature rare rāga-s such as Japani and Anantapriyā, along with intricate musical elements that are particularly suited to the concert platform. Consequently, only a handful have been adopted into the dance repertoire. 

• Over your three-decade-long journey, have you faced any significant vocal challenges or setbacks? How have you adapted your practice to preserve and nurture your voice?

That is a lovely question. For any vocalist, the voice is a lifelong companion and the most precious instrument. Singing for dance certainly demands considerable vocal stamina, but I believe that the key lies in developing the interest and creativity to adapt one’s singing to the needs of the dance.

If one views repeating a line twenty times as a tiresome task, it can seem like a Himalayan challenge! However, when we introduce subtle melodic variations or explore niraval in coordination with the dancer’s abhinaya and sañcāri, the process becomes far more engaging. There is also scope for creative exchanges with the accompanying violinists and flautists, making every repetition an opportunity for musical exploration rather than a physical strain.

Fortunately, I have not experienced any major vocal setbacks. Over time, however, I have gravitated more towards composing for dance, which involves less sustained vocal effort and allows me to contribute to the art form in a different capacity.

Another aspect of dance that I have always enjoyed is its rhythmic dimension. Having learnt Bharatanāṭya, I developed a strong sense of tāla, and I received early encouragement from stalwarts such as Vid. Tavil Vidvan Valayapatti A.R. Subramaniam and Flute Vidvan T.R. Mahalingam, who appreciated my ability to maintain the tāla during complex tani āvartana rounds. This rhythmic grounding also led me to take up naṭṭuvāṅgam, which, alongside composing, has become one of my preferred ways of contributing to dance in recent years.

• Your work spans performance, composition and an engagement with music scholarship. What advice would you offer to young researchers hoping to make a meaningful contribution to the study of music?

My natural inclination has always been towards the practical aspects of music like singing, composing and dance, while the theoretical and research-oriented dimensions initially remained a secondary interest. However, my husband’s extensive knowledge and keen interest in research inspired me to explore this side of music more deeply and appreciate its significance.

My foremost advice to aspiring researchers is to always seek out primary sources when studying literature and musical traditions. When examining a particular bāṇi or school of music, it is equally important to learn directly from practitioners belonging to that lineage rather than relying solely on secondary accounts or online translations. Such firsthand engagement helps ensure that the research is authentic, nuanced and rooted in the tradition itself.

Research in music is not merely about gathering information, it is about interpreting it responsibly, preserving the integrity of the tradition and contributing knowledge that others can rely upon. Ultimately, I believe that authenticity, rigorous source work and a willingness to learn directly from the tradition are essential to making a meaningful contribution to music scholarship.

• With over three decades of experience singing for dance, you have witnessed the art form evolve across generations. Beyond musical proficiency, what should young vocalists cultivate in terms of rhythm, stage sensitivity, collaboration with dancers, repertoire and vocal discipline?

I believe the foremost requirement for a vocalist singing for dance is to develop a genuine respect for and appreciation of Bharatanāṭya. Equally, dancers should cultivate a basic understanding of music. When both artists understand and value each other’s art forms, their ideas synchronise more naturally, resulting in a more cohesive performance.

Rather than approaching the music mechanically, vocalists should learn to enjoy the process and make sensitive improvisations while remaining rooted in the tradition. It is also important to understand that the vocalist need not sing continuously throughout the performance. Thoughtful exchanges with the violinist or flautist can enrich the musical presentation while providing the vocalist with brief moments of rest.

Beyond rehearsals, I would strongly encourage vocalists to spend time with the dancers, interact with them and, wherever possible, travel with them for performances. Such shared experiences help artists understand each other’s thought processes, preferences and artistic sensibilities. The rapport developed offstage invariably reflects in their coordination and communication onstage.

Above all, vocalists have a responsibility to understand the meaning, context and emotional nuances of every composition they render. Knowing the sāhitya is just as important as presenting it musically, as this understanding enables the vocalist to respond sensitively to the dancer’s abhinaya and interpretation. I believe that the next generation of dance vocalists should give particular importance to this aspect.

Ultimately, singing for dance is a collaborative art. Rhythm, repertoire and vocal discipline are essential, but it is the combination of musical understanding, mutual respect, sensitivity and genuine artistic involvement that makes the collaboration truly meaningful.