A short walk from Shivaji Mandir, a landmark theatre for Marathi plays in Dadar, Mumbai, is Shirish Makarand Society in Kasarvadi, a quiet neighbourhood dating back over half a century, a time when many compact homes in the city held extraordinary artistic legacies.In this mid-rise apartment complex, where generations of families have lived, timeworn stone treads take us to a two-bedroom apartment steeped in the memory of Hindustani classical vocalist Manik Varma, who called it home for nearly five decades. Sixty-eight-year-old actor Bharati Achrekar, best remembered for her role in Wagle ki Duniya (2021) and the eldest of Varma’s four daughters, ushers us into a home that has been a witness to Varma’s rich world of ragas and riyaaz, where Pt Bhimsen Joshi would turn up at night for dal chawal, where Kumar Gandharva was a regular and where some of the finest musicians of a generation came together for music and conversation. “Pt Bhimsen Joshi considered her like his sister. He and many other musicians would visit our first house in Wadala as well, a tiny one-bedroom flat. Mallikarjun Mansur would spend a lot of time there. There was so much affection back then, space just didn’t matter. They all adored my mother and her music,” says Achrekar. Cover of Varma’s albumA Hindustani classical vocalist of the Kirana gharana, known for a mellifluous voice, dignified demeanour and simplicity, Varma who passed away in November 1996 would have turned 100 this month.The name Manik Varma may not evoke instant recognition among those outside classical music circles and Maharashtra. Not because her artistry lacked any depth but because, despite a remarkable voice, extensive training and admiration from her peers and seniors, she never cultivated public attention or actively pursued the visibility that came with touring and conference appearances. Varma belonged to that generation of artistes who valued emotional nuance and uncompromising riyaaz over fame.“Since there was little space in the house, she would face the wall in the bathroom and do her riyaaz,” says Achrekar, who then brings out her mother’s old tanpura. Achrekar, who is trained in classical music, has played it often, accompanying her mother on the vocals. “I lost my husband very early. I was just 34 and had a young son, so I chose acting, which kept the kitchen fire burning. My sister Rani chose music,” says Achrekar.Dr Vidyadhar Oke, a doctor, an eminent musicologist and a harmonium exponent, who performed extensively with Varma, says the reason Varma isn’t as well known as other women artistes of her time, like Kishori Amonkar, Shobha Gurtu and Girija Devi, is because she never really intended to be a famous musician. “She was an extremely satisfied individual who did not want any applause from the world. She had her daughters and a loving husband, and was not keen on leaving them to travel too much. She will be remembered for her expertise in Hindustani music, that flexible voice which could straddle khayal, thumri, bhavgeet and natyasangeet,” says Oke.In the ’60s and ’70s, Maharashtra woke up to Varma’s bhaavgeet. Bhajans such as Sawalach rang ruza and Tuzya murali majhi were popular besides her songs in Marathi films. Then, there was her popular rendition of the bhajans from the acclaimed Geet Ramayana, a collection of 56 bhajans written by GD Masgulkar and set to tune by composer Sudhir Phadke, where most songs for Sita were sung by Varma. Some others were sung by Lata Mangeshkar.Story continues below this adThough Geet Ramayan’s original broadcast was over in March 1956, All-India Radio repeated the entire series on popular demand. On Varma’s 70th birthday in 1996, about six months before she passed away, popular playback singer Asha Bhosle said, “I remember her song Manoratha chal tya nagarila. I was crazy about her voice when I was young. While we (she and her older sister Lata) became playback singers, Manik did the very important thing of balancing film music with classical music.”Fellow musician Kishori Amonkar, while speaking of Varma in an interview, said that she was grateful to her mother and guru (Mogubai Kurdikar), who taught her the depth of what Manik was doing. “Her singing was not about intellectual or physical feats, it was a soulful expression that went beyond the intellect… When I first heard Manik’s Savalyacha rang tujha, I realised that even words have melodies. I put in a lot of my soul learning that song,” said Amonkar, hinting at the idea of Hindustani classical music which is more focused on the melody and not the words.The noted classical vocalist also speaks of Varma’s rendition of Jaunpuri, an evocative morning raga that Amonkar is remembered for, and how she explored its poignant quality. She imbibed its contours from Varma. “From Manik’s singing, I learned what simplicity is and how divinity exists within it. I try to emulate that,” said Amonkar. For the formidable singer, with her uncompromising standards and sparing praise, appreciating Varma is a testament to the latter’s significance and brilliance. In fact, Varma may be one of the few who could candidly ask Amonkar about her infamous temper and why she would get so angry. “I feel that no one else understood my mistakes, my offences and my good or bad qualities as deeply as Manik did,” she said. Bharati Achrekar with Varma’s tanpura (Amit Chakravarty)Many artistes also speak of Varma’s generosity and kindness. Shobha Gurtu in an interview for Manik Varma Pratishthan (a trust established in 1997 by Varma’s family), said: “She never mocked anyone or spoke ill of others.” Bhosle had said, “She is the only artiste I met who never had any jealousy or malice in her. She always praised my voice and songs. We were neighbours. I lived on the first floor and she was on the fifth. When she would ask me to come up, I would joke that I was too heavy to climb, and she would say she would let down a basket to pull me up”.Story continues below this adVarma grew up in Pune, where her interest in music was recognised by her mother, who saw in her daughter the fulfilment of her own unrealised dream of becoming a singer.When she married lyricist Amar Varma and had four daughters (Achrekar, actor Vandana Gupte, classical singer Rani Varma and Aruna Jaiprakash), it was their grandmother who looked after them. “My grandmother was more interested in her daughter’s training so that she could continue her riyaaz and performances uninterrupted and without the stress of looking after young children,” says Achrekar.After learning briefly at Pune Bharat Gayan Samaj, she further trained under Sureshbabu Mane, son of Ustad Abdul Karim Khan, the founder of Kirana gharana. Her first public performance was at the age of 13 and first recording at 16. What was impressive about her voice was that whether it was bravery, melancholy, compassion or romance, her delivery was never harsh.It was in her 40s and at the peak of her career that Varma was hit by a severe bout of meningitis. While she survived it, her career did suffer. She got back to music but it was never the same. In her later years, Varma would go and listen to many younger artistes. “You could always find her at nearby concert halls,” says Achrekar about Varma, who belonged to an older imagination of music where music was about lifelong discipline.Years later, in the world of manic advertisement, Manik Varma’s legacy remains that of a rare artiste with a sense of grace; the kind that continues to waft above the stories and the music left behind by her.