Carnatic music "wannabes"

Since I was a kid of 1-2 years of age to date, I’ve been an active witness to the music season in Madras in December of every year. Everyone remotely connected to the carnatic music scene would agree that this festival is characterized by concerts round the clock, kasi halwas and special rava and podi dosais at the hall canteens and most importantly, mamis and mamas in their latest conquests of Nalli and Kumaran “pattu podavais and veshtis/angavastrams”.

There used to be a few people from overseas leveraging their Christmas vacation to spend some time at their hometown, forced to accompany their amma or appa to the concerts despite the fact that they thought it was the “un-coolest” thing to do –or because their “onnu vitta mami” was finally performing on stage after her in-laws so cruelly killed her musical talent and concert prospects. Of course we had only grey-haired people to match the not-so-sunny state of Madras in December…

I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there are a couple of changes and additions to this list in the recent years, other than of course RMKV’s entry into the podavai scene. First off, the concerts have skyrocketed in number and there is a concert at every Pillayar koil in Madras (literally making every nook and corner of the city musical) and like Ratatouille, all creatures in Madras get a chance to sing and showcase their talents. That says a lot about the encouragement Madras people are capable of providing! And then, canteens don’t have mamas wearing poonals and azhukku angavastrams. You’ll have to make do with “sappadu velaalars”. But shhhhh… we are a very tolerant bunch, aren’t we? Oh wait, they probably included some reservation policy here too…

The change that has fascinated me the most though is that we have a new clan that has joined the music season ‘gumbal’. The “Oh it was such a kewl concert, but maybe the chittaaaaswarams were a little deprived of the lower dashes of ma… don’t you think buddy?” . “Ummm…not so sure, didn’t he sing hamsadhwani –is that what it is called? I don’t think it has the ga or woteva…” (Consults pocket dictionary with the ragas and swaras list –no misprints of course, it was printed in the US of A).

These people are the most entertaining. You have a mini-India in them, in terms of the diverse flavours they come in. Some are clad in veshtis and podavais but hardly able to carry it off and hardly supporting it with the customary traditionalism… but at least these people try. Don’t worry buddies, appearance isn’t everything.

The rest obviously prefer to wear warm clothing and it helps to wear long-sleeved t-shirts and a checked shirt over it, shoes and jeans… of course, one needs to be comfortably clothed while poring over pages of the spectrum of the ri that the artiste sang –so that you could coolly walk up to the stage –showing off your Reebok shoes obviously –and ask either an academic question about the status of the “ri” or accuse the artiste about not knowing her/ his stuff and gift them with a spectrum analyzer or something. Or just his own voice’s recording about all he knows about music.

And there are the rest that prepare Excel spreadsheets and Microsoft documents about each artiste’s flaws and greatnesses –obviously the way I did my assignments at IIT about which I didn’t have a clue–copy paste from old ones and give off an impression I was all-knowing since I’d use wonderful flowery English. South Indians –tam brahms in particular, are simply adept at the art, I say! Maybe of course he consulted his swara dictionary –in which case I’d be grossly wrong. Or else, his/her guru in the US –the greatest star in the continent –would have explained otherwise and expressed salient views that should be considered sacrosanct –and purer than those that practice music in still a developing economy like India…

Obviously everyone who comes to the US regrets his mistake of not learning music earlier in his life. Of running away from his pattu/ mridanga vadhyar. It had seemed so un-cool then. But in the US, one could have such a monopoly! You just had a few people who could even get to a marginal ‘sa’ (at those times they didn’t have the word “shruti” in the dictionary –maybe they have it now). “Damn, if only I had learned too, I could be like Bodhisattva, sit under a tree and pipe my music away to a bunch of followers and loyalists…”

“But the least I can do to save face is get some eyeball value and speak to the artiste and better still, critique whatever they sing or do. That would obviously make people think I’m terribly smart –throwing in those standard syllables… ‘da’ or ‘na’ (let me just make sure it is a swaram or the hindi word to say ‘no’… obviously being in Madras, I know neither too well) would help”.

“Since everything is done online, I should post my thoughts (or the lack of well formed ones) online, mention some data here and there, based on my engineering education and masters at Random College of the Creek and (incomplete) PhD and the music I learned on the banks of the Potomac… ah so holy…”

So these friends turn up at concerts, listen to lines one and two and of course, need to discuss with their peers (only the “enlightened” ones –remember our Buddhha?) sitting right behind a poor mama who’s probably taking a nap in the comfortable A/C –or maybe a poor music student from local singara Chennai who couldn’t manage a better seat because she didn’t have the money to pay for the ticket.

The final touch: eating kasi halwa and the podi dosais (like I do too, with tons of relish bordering on pakkiness) makes them feel rejuvenated about their connection with our culture. And that certifies people to critique and comment more. Absolutely justified, my friends.

I would be unfair if I did not mention some of our local call-center and KPO friends… I guess they are NRIs too… so let me just lump them into this category. And give them the due credit as those above.

Am I eluding the tricky question? Which group do I belong to? Here’s the answer: One who, by no matter of choice, became a part of the season. As a kid, I used to wait for the popcorn stalls to open and I used to hate Sastri Hall since there was no canteen. Now I’m as much of an NRI as any one else… and sometimes my laundry forces me to go to a concert in jeans… and and trust me, I don’t go crazy over attending all the concerts and I don’t even visit Madras in December to “be part of the season”. My reasons are a wee bit more personal and if you speak to me, you’ll think I don’t care an iota for carnatic music… that’s just ‘cause I’m a born rebel and liar (this article is my first experiment with truth like non-violent Gandhi ji)… Any more questions email me, lambaste me –and you’ll really hear me. I promise some musical samples too –for your paradoxical discomfort stemming from all the right reasons!

Amen.