R K Shriram Kumar was M S Subbulakshmi's violinist for more than 10 years.

The last one year without MS Amma has been so depressing. Even though she was not well in the last two years of her life, her very presence was a big moral support for me.

I can't describe how sad I feel whenever I hear her music.

My grandfather R K Venkata Rama Sastry played the violin for MS Amma in her early days. So, you can say my family was associated with MS Amma for two generations. MS Amma even attended my mother's seemantham [ceremony for pregnant women].

I grew up listening to Amma's music. Visiting Amma and Sadasivam Mama, especially during important festivals, and taking their blessings was customary when I was young. Amma was very caring and affectionate. She had a lot of respect for my grandfather. Amma and Mama were an integral part of our lives.

I started playing the violin for her from April 15, 1989. I was just 23 years old then. One day, out of the blue, I got a call from her, and she asked me, 'Sriram, are you free on the 15th of April?' I was dumbfounded. I said, 'Amma, I am playing for Vijay Siva in Madurai on that day. I am really sorry.' She was very gracious. 'Don't worry. We will work together next time,' she said.

When I mentioned this to Vijay, he was furious. 'Are you mad? How can you say "no" to Amma? Playing for Amma is the ultimate, and you told her you are booked? I will have a substitute. You just call Amma and say you are free.' Then I called Amma, and she had a hearty laugh.

I was very nervous because not even in my wildest dreams had I thought of playing for MS Amma. The first concert went like a dream. She praised me. Amma would never say a bad word about anyone. No award can give me the kind of satisfaction I got playing for her. Those concerts were very, very special to me.

Whenever I had to play for Amma, I would be very nervous. Her music was so sublime that you felt very small in front of her. It was very, very difficult to match her voice.

The same year, I played for a recording of hers. During the recording sessions, she would bring food for all. She also would make sure that every word, every syllable was pronounced properly. She would never compromise.

Till 1997, I used to play for all her concerts. When I played for her last concert, I had never imagined that it would be her last. She was past 80 then but had not lost a bit of her charm.

Every time I met her, she would ask about my grandfather, my mother, my health. She would ask for whom I played, where I played and how I played and practised. She came for all the functions that took place in my house. She attended the weddings of all my sisters. When my mother was ill, she came to see her.

I used to visit her quite often, sometimes in the afternoon, when she sang for an hour. I would take my violin along and play with her. Even after Mama passed away, she did not stop singing in the afternoons, that is, until she became very ill in 2002. She used to sing some old kritis, some of the songs which were sung in the 1930s and 1940s. After 2002, she was almost confined to her bed.

I cannot forget the day she was hospitalised, on November 30. I had visited her at home a week earlier. Then, Atma Mama asked me to re-string the tanpuras and the veenas. Amma was suffering from dementia then. Still, I took a tanpura to her and started strumming. It was not tuned fully; I had just partially done it. The moment she heard the half-tuned tanpura, she said, 'Kondaa, kondaa [give it to me].' When she found it out of tune, immediately she started tuning it. See, even when she was so ill, she couldn't tolerate an un-tuned tanpura. Music was so innate in her. She played for 10 minutes, and then gave it back to me, saying, 'You play now.' I played the tanpura for an hour for her. I still cannot forget the way she sat there, fully engrossed. I miss all these blessed moments. Whenever I tune a tanpura, I miss her.

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Photograph: Sreeram Selvaraj