BUT WHERE IS THE AUDIENCE!

To take a line out of Edward Lear - it was just as I feared. Not a soul to hear us sing at the Sri Gaudiya Math temple, (See last post) even though it was splashed on the noticeboard. Unless you counted the involuntary presence of the Swamijis, and the four bovine creatures belonging to the temple.

Even family members, who normally accompany us, were absent on account of the odd time slot – my husband hardly comes to hear us sing, and this time was no exception. Visitors to the temple usually come around 6 pm for the pooja. However Lalitha and Padmini’s father was there with his video camera, as were Vatsala’s mother and daughter, and Meenakshi’s cousins.


The hall where we sang is part of a building next to the actual temple housing the deity, all within a compound, and had painted depictions of Sri Krishna and Chaitnya Mahaprabhu not only along the interiors but on the ceilings as well.


The gleaming white tower of the temple, after the fashion of temples in North India, is not visible from the road, and I was thrilled at the unexpected view within the gates. The Math was built in 1932, thanks to the munificence of Maharaja Sri Vikrama Deo Bahadur of Jeyapore.( I wonder if the summer palace of the Maharaja of Jeyapore in Gopalapuram which is now called Ambience also belonged to him.)


The paucity of audience was compensated for by the mikes – we got six – and our own enthusiasm. We sang for 75 minutes - kirtanas on Lord Krishna and Sri Rama, accompanied by Jwala ( a post graduate student) on the violin and Sri Krishna on the mridangam. Sri Krishna is a high school student and a disciple of veteran Umayalpuram Sivaramakrishnan. Our guru Ganga, despite a fever, led us as competently as usual. We missed Geetha who has gone to spend time with her little granddaughter.

The audience swelled towards the close of our programme, when the members of the next group to sing came in!

A video clip of the concert is here.

MARGAZHI RAAGAM

There is no other way to listen to a music concert, I have concluded.

The experience was so satisfying – in a darkened theatre, with the artistes pleasingly larger than life and the sound, glorious sound, pouring from all parts of the theatre in stereophonic splendour, excluding all other noises.

We had been invited to a special show of ‘Margazhi Raagam’ a film which was a presentation of a music concert by two big names in the Carnatic music firmament – Bombay Jayashri and T. M. Krishna. The show had been organized by Thejus Chandrasekhar in honour and memory of his mother, D. Patammal, who had composed more than 650 songs in Thamizh, in all the ragas of the 72 Melakarthas, and then some more.

Margazhi (December 15 to January 15) is the Thamizh month devoted to the Gods (and music in Chennai), and Raagam means melody.

It was intriguing. It was a film, and it was a music concert, said the notices. That the singers are two of the best today led to a high level of expectation, but I was not sure what to expect. The two artistes had presented live concerts together recently, and there had been conflicting reports on that.

The show was in the Sathyam theatre complex, and before the picture started, there was some western music in the background – which was not at all the right setting for a Carnatic concert. And the lights were dim, unlike at the halls where the concerts are held live, where they burn bright and are never dimmed. And I felt some trepidation.

But as the theatre darkened completely, and the credits came on the atmosphere was set. A dark auditorium can hold one enthralled as nothing else. All your concentration is on the one visible place of light. Here our senses were drawn to the screen to the exclusion of everything else. And when the music started, what bliss! Such pure sound, without any disruptions caused by faulty mikes or rude rasikas, who enter and leave auditoriums at will. It flowed from all sides, and it was divine. The aural quality was matched by the atmosphere of sanctity captured by P. C. Sriram’s camera.

The first song was by Jayashri, and her soothing voice and serene manner were captured delightfully by the sound engineer H. Sridhar (who died recently, and to whom the picture is dedicated) and cameraman Sriram. She sang two more pieces, and the final line of the 'raagam khamas' was picked up by Krishna after an interlude by the two percussionists.

Krishna’s entry was smooth. I had seen only one percussionist accompanying Jayashri and wondered where the other one had come from. He was Krishna’s accompanist! Krishna’s style was in direct contrast to hers, full of flamboyance and vigour, waking up the senses which had been lulled by Jayashri’s soothing voice.
After a couple of pieces by Krishna, the two sang together - in great harmony and perfectly complementing one another.

The final piece with just the tampura was a revelation. As was the whole experience.

Do read Ardra Vamshi's experience here.