India’s Unsung Mozart

Swathi Thirunal — India’s forgotten wonderkid of music, languages and governance (A fictionalised retelling)

(This is my fourth piece themed on music after Meri Awaz Suno, The Final Symphony and The Maestro Who Moved elephants)

Thiruvananthapuram- Year 1810

An anguished Maharani Gowri Lakshmi Bai paced up and down the upper balcony of the palace. She paused at a tall, ornate window, resting her manicured hands on the railing, sorrow clouding her beautiful eyes.

Those were turbulent times. The princely state of Travancore was in a state of flux —internal mutinies and rebellions rocked the palace — worsened by the looming threat from the East India Company which was annexing states and overthrowing rulers at will.

For the British, it was unfathomable that a young girl of 20 could govern a state in deep turmoil.

The young queen faced an existential crisis. Her only hope to secure her lineage and prevent expulsion was the birth of a male heir.

A Royal Birth

Chatter across the capital, Thiruvananthapuram, was growing louder. Word had spread faster than summer lightning — when would a child be born? Was the royal family running out of time?

The shadow of the British Empire spread ominously, like an eagle unfurling its wings—ready to capture. As per the Doctrine of Lapse, if an Indian ruler died without a male successor, the kingdom would be annexed by the British.

After prayers at Sandhya Samayam — the twilight hour when a woman places a lamp at the door — the Maharani wrote in her journal,

“I am Your servant, Lord Padmanabha. If it is Your will, I shall beget a child.”

That month, priests began special rituals at the sanctum sanctorum of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple — an imposing shrine of granite and gold, where Lord Vishnu lies in eternal slumber upon the thousand-hooded serpent — Anantha. For centuries, kings and dynasties had bowed and prostrated before this deity.

The relentless prayers were finally answered. On 16th April 1813, during the sacred hour before dawn — at Brahma Muhurtham — the most auspicious moment just before the temple bells rang — a cry pierced through the silence of the royal household of Travancore, reverberating through its endless corridors.

The palace astrologer sighed in wonder — the baby had been born under Swathi Nakshatram, the auspicious birth star of grace and learning. The heir apparent was so named Swathi Thirunal Rama Varma.

A Divine Prodigy

In the days that followed, lamps were lit in celebration across the kingdom — from the hills to the fishing villages. The Sword of State was placed in the infant's hands, while the Maharani continued as interim monarch, assuming the title of Regent.

Instead of lullabies, scholars whispered Sanskrit verses into the child's cradle — rhythms seeping into him before he could even speak. By the age of five, the little Prince was already speaking and reciting flawlessly in Sanskrit and Malayalam —with remarkable clarity. The child was divinely attuned, brimming with exceptional musical prowess.

Music was second nature to him — it flowed naturally and effortlessly. Before long, he was composing Kritis (musical compositions) with the finesse of a seasoned maestro. Palace halls and temple courtyards soon echoed with the melodies rendered by this young genius, still barely an adolescent. Court musicians and visiting scholars listened with bated breath — not merely astonished by his brilliance, but deeply moved by the depth, precision, and soul in his music.

Bhavayami and Beyond

Soon, young Swathi Thirunal began composing like a veteran. Among his earlier masterpieces was the Carnatic composition Bhavayami Raghuramam, celebrated even today for its beautiful retelling of the Ramayana through a series of ragas. It is devotion, intellect, nuance, wisdom and musical genius fused into a single composition.

For those who watched him grow and blossom, one truth became unmistakably clear: this was no ordinary prince, but a gift from the gods — a soul visiting the earth bearing music learnt over lifetimes.

Navaratri Kritis and The Temple of Sound

He also famously composed the Navaratri Kritis — a set of nine celestial compositions in praise of Goddess Saraswati, each dedicated to a day of the nine-day Navaratri festival. These Kritis are still performed annually at the Navaratri Mandapam in Thiruvananthapuram, where concerts are held without applause or amplification, in adherence to age-old temple tradition.

This hall was designed after Swathi Thirunal learned about Persian architectural acoustics —where domed hammams transmit sound — in a manner where sound separation of voice and instruments occurs clearly without the need for extra amplification.

Music from the North Beckons

When he turned seventeen, the young monarch expressed his desire to learn Hindustani music — he was enchanted by its ragas and was thus eager to explore a different musical tradition. His inner coterie disapproved — why should a South Indian royal, a Carnatic prodigy at that — pursue something far less refined, according to them? The young king wouldn’t relent.

An accomplished musician from beyond the Vindhyas was summoned. He arrived with a shawl draped across his chest and a tanpura slung over his back — Ustad Bakhtiyar Ali Khan of the Benares Gharana. Young Rama came to the door to receive his Guruji, barefoot, with folded hands. After touching the Master’s feet, he asked earnestly, “Will you teach me Miyan Ki Todi… and Lalit… and Darbari Kanada… and Yaman?”

At first, the Ustad was sceptical — the South, he believed, was too composition-bound, with little room for improvisation. But very soon, he realized that this student was exceptional beyond imagination.

And so, in a magnificent, teak-pillared room, the Ustad began imparting his lessons. He demonstrated unique singing techni ques and described ragas as temperaments — as feelings that evoked the Almighty or the beloved or the seasons — he demonstrated rhythms that merged with the divine. Swathi learned intently, absorbing every nuance and pattern that unfolded before him.

Ahead of the Times - Bold Musical Fusion

Soon, Swathi Thirunal began composing in Hindustani ragas as well. Whispers of disapproval stirred the town’s musical circle. Some musicians even refused to perform in the royal darbar in protest. A combative temple priest declared that the purity of the court’s music was being compromised. Swathi’s response was measured and calm — he let his music do the talking.

He said, “The gods speak every language — why should their music not do the same?”

On the next festive occasion, he composed a piece that boldly juxtaposed different musical forms. He wove taranas into thillanas. The veena was tuned beside the sarangi. The flute cooed alongside the bansuri; and the mridangam flirted playfully with the tabla.

A Farewell Gift

After a few years, when the Ustad prepared to leave, he was presented with a royal gift — a palm-leaf manuscript bearing a dhrupad in Raag Bhairav, written by the king himself and dedicated to Lord Padmanabha. Dhrupad — the oldest surviving form of Hindustani classical vocal music — is profound and meditative in nature.

“You gifted me with a new manifestation of music,” Swathi told his Guru. “I merely tried to give it my voice.”

During the following years, Maharaja Swathi Thirunal governed with urgency and vision, ushering in modernisation and reform. Temple management underwent major upheaval — so did the judicial system, public education, and healthcare. Beyond being a musical genius, he was a patron of the arts and sciences, and one of the most progressive rulers of his era.

Classical Dance Forms - and the Timeless Dhanashree Thillana

Meanwhile, his court remained open to talent from across the country. The violin maestro Thanjavur Vadivelu was welcomed and given a platform, along with a simple request: “Teach dance as scripture, not as spectacle.”

Swathi Thirunal actively promoted and supported the dance forms of Bharatanatyam and Mohiniyattam—inviting artists to his court to perform. He composed numerous compositions—core components of the dance repertoire, providing dancers with a rich musical vocabulary. These compositions were not just melodious and rhythmic: they also contained specific choreographic and thematic elements.

It was during this time that Swathi composed the iconic Dhanashree Thillana — one of his most beloved works, still being performed by singers and bands, and widely used as staple fare in Bharatanatyam performances.

Click below to listen…

The palace also welcomed visitors from distant corners of India — Maratha poets, mystics from Kashmir, and Harikatha artists from Andhra. These luminaries brought with them new languages, instruments, and philosophies. Swathi Thirunal received them not as a monarch, but as a fellow musician — searching for new musical possibilities.

A Linguist and Poet in the Shadow of an Empire

There was also something else remarkable about Swathi Thirunal — he was fluent in Sanskrit, Malayalam, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Marathi, Persian, Hindustani, Bengali, English, and Arabic. He once composed in Arabic music pattern and form — an extraordinary feat for an Indian classical musician.

The young Maharaja was prolific, composing nearly 400 pieces, each one precious and unique in its own right. They included Sanskrit Kritis for Lord Vishnu, lullabies in his native Malayalam for Lord Krishna, and Hindi thumris for Radha.

It is not known to many that Swathi Thirunal was also an English literary genius. Some of his English verses, written under the pseudonym R.V. Swathan, were discovered in the Madras Athenaeum archives. He blended poetry with sharp political satire, defiant in tone and yet elegant in composition. Most of his work was prevented from wider circulation by the Imperial rulers. Not surprising; a sample of his work read:

“They bring the Book and take the Bread,
And call our hunger holy dread.”

The Final Raga, A Conspiracy?

Sadly, some geniuses are summoned back too soon.

In his early thirties, Swathi Thirunal began falling ill at regular intervals. To make it worse, the untimely death of his younger sister devastated him. Down in spirit, he turned down medical treatment, retreating instead into the solitude of music.

Officially recorded as a muscle wasting illness, court records and correspondences point to poisoning as the main reason for his sudden decline in health. It is rumoured that the increasingly dominant East India Company was upset by the King’s popularity, independent mind, patronage of native art forms and resistance to missionary interference.

Ironically though, in his teens, Swathi Thirunal is said to have been deeply influenced by Advaita Vedanta and Kashmir Shaivism — to an extent that he had expressed a desire to renounce the throne. And at that time, it was the East India Company that had dissuaded him citing his "indispensable administrative competence" — a phrase recorded in East India Company memos.

One dark night, sensing the end was near, the Maharaja asked to be left alone in the sanctum of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple. Barefoot, he trudged along the cool granite floor and sat before the very deity who had crowned him King before his birth. There, in the silence of the inner sanctum, he whispered his final composition — a lullaby for his only Master.

He died soon after, in 1846, at just thirty-three.

The next morning, the temple priests found a palm leaf on the sanctum floor with an inscription:

“I was crowned before my birth, so I return before my time.
Let silence be my final raga.”

Author’s Note
This story is a fictionalised retelling inspired by the life of Maharaja Swathi Thirunal Rama Varma (1813–1846). While many characters, events, and compositions are drawn from historical records, certain scenes, dialogues, and individuals—such as the Ustad—have been imagined to bring emotional and thematic depth to the story. Wherever possible, the spirit of historical truth has been honoured, especially in portraying his musical genius and cultural legacy.

Music Courtesy:

Excerpted from: Thillana 2.0 - Dhanashree (feat. Sharanya Srinivas) Thillana 2.0 - Dhanashree (feat. Sharanya Srinivas) - YouTube (Posted by Mahesh Raghvan) Swathi Thirunal's Dhanashree Thillana with a modern twist. Featuring Sharanya Srinivas on Vocals and Mahesh Raghvan on GeoShred. The original tune of this Thillana was composed by Lalgudi Jayaraman.

References:

1. Manu S. Pillai – The Ivory Throne: Chronicles of the House of Travancore
   ↳ A key modern history of the Travancore royal family; contextualises the political fragility of Swathi Thirunal’s time.

2. Dr. V. Raghavan – The Life and Music of Swathi Thirunal
   ↳ Authoritative musicological study covering his compositions, both Carnatic and Hindustani, with notations and context.

3. T.M. Krishna – A Southern Music: The Karnatik Story
   ↳ While not solely about Swathi Thirunal, it reflects on the evolution of Carnatic music, with mentions of his work and the cultural ecosystem he enabled.