There were times when I thought music was every thing in my life. Neither I was a good vocalist nor instrumentalist. How can it possibly be a substantive force in my life? Were they my forcible microphone grabbing musical adventures ? Or was it my ability to present few Hindi and English numbers to my acquaintances whose ears rotted with Telugu stuff ? Possibly were they few trophies I won because of my entry level competitors ?. I wonder was it all that made me feel like I had a call for music ? May be not.Thankfully I was a good evaluator of my own merits. I could always notice the not so approved look in my audience whenever I rendered a song. I could notice the missing spontaneous joy in their eyes that springs out after listening to a good music. "Your face glows when you sing" " I like the way your lips move while singing " Blah..blah..My wisdom tells me that I should not feel happy about that. I wasn't going for a beauty pageant. My friends did not want to displease me I suppose. There were no tape recorders available. I never listened to me singing. Finally I could convince myself that I was not the greatest singer on earth. But what brought me closer to the music world is my cerebrum. My brain had mystically vibrating nerves, which dance in sync with chords. A virtual representation of idea or concept or mood dawns upon my mental screen like convergence of reality with myth. At this juncture I understood I was experiencing the music.
I accompanied my parents to Tyagaraya Utsavalu though for various reasons, they made me to note few magical notes rendered by those renowned singers. The extended discussions made by my parents about the concerts, my father's ability to identify any Raga in Carnatic music, his occasional humming, my mother's unbiased love for classical as well as good film music, filled me with penchant for music. Surprisingly we never had a radio. Like all old generation men my father was in all against any thing which was labelled as '"luxury". Pointing T.V. antennas in every thatched house now speak about definition of luxury that has changed over years. No wonder some times we treat luxury more important than need these days.
Mean while my stay with my brother opened doors to my musical world. He had one transistor which I rightfully owned like a sole monarch till they reach home. I am sure my musical hours have pruned my study hours and I ended up faring miserably in academics.That was the age for hero worship and I intensely felt I should be washing singer Mukhesh's feet with my tears if I chance to meet him. Though I was not sure of what frog contained in it's stomach (Biology) I was sure about which music director tuned which song. Most films of that era being musical , I tried learning Urdu to feel the songs better. I thought I would please my Muslim friends by singing Urdu songs but in-turn most often they asked for Telugu Songs to my utter disappointment.Vivid sangeet that was played on radio in evening hours introduced me to the songs from the various South Indian Languages. Swear I never found a leisure after that.
While I was passing through my mid teens long foregone sister of my own, entered my life. I think I want to write exclusively about her some time. She opened new avenues for my musical interests. Her tape recorders, music players and L.Ps, her acquaintances, and her knowledge, enriched my life so much. I was exceedingly thrilled by her feed back about her pleasant encounters with accomplished musicians. The day I went along with her to meet famous folk singers Seetha and Anasuya, and the sight of musicians composing in Saradhi Studios, was like a dream I cherished most .I found my most comfortable zone and I thought it was the best place for me in the world. It felt like my creative part of brain was tuned. I listened to K.L Saigal, Pankaj Mallick Shamshad begum's albums bought and preserved by my sister and tried to understand what world those singers belonged to. I was introduced to Jim Reeves and Frank Sinatra, Blue Diamond the list of singers whom I wouldn't have known all my life provided I have not met my sister. I honed my accent skills by listened to Sound Of Music L.P. My indistinct melodic curiosity began assuming shape. I was attaining a personality. The core being essentially aesthetic.
My infatuation with music grew enormously . My love traveled beyond boundaries and that is how I got know about Jesudas, Soundarajan, Govinda Rajan and so many celebrated singers and musicians of India. I tell you such information needed an effort those days. Nothing was easily available and each comes with a price. My music appetite taught me to understand bit of all the South Indian languages and gradually my rage extended to all the Indian musical forms. I often listened to the folk musics of Gujarat and Rajasthan, Rabindra Sangeet and I started realizing that most musics in the world wrapped with a beauty of their own. I developed some kind of insights into the details and complexity of sounds and much of my philosophy in my later life was derived from music. Besides array of legendary Hindi musicians, I found few Tamil composers truly magnificent. Even to day I acknowledge that M.S.Viswanathan was a gifted musician and deserves an award of the highest order. I was not just looking for beat and rhythm in music I was into more subliminal facet of acoustics. It was more like a solace than a kick. It was more divine than mortal. Another friend of mine introduced me to western classical though I can not claim to have learned much about it. Devotional, fusion, Western pop, rustic, folk, elements, ragas, Ghazales, I kept on discovering a stimulation in every form. During my journey , all at once I stopped with a jerk. I found I married one similar to Aurangzeb who had deep hatred for music. Then on my love towards music stammered and staggered. My music file was corrupted and many times refused to open.
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My hair greyed and gained freedom to slip down loose. I tried making to a concert when I was in San Diego and San Francisco, but couldn't. But it happened in most unexpected place, Reno. The University in proximity proved to be a blessing in disguise. Though the college events were very much visible in their website and open to all I was hesitant to enter into their concert halls. I know I can not find any body like me. I did not want to be fool to rush in where angels fear to tread. But the opportunity was alluring. Finally I decided to make it with a pretentious bold front. I preferred to be seated next to the gate so that many will not notice me. Concert hall had good ambiance, well lit like any other well maintained US auditoriums Dozens of young players in their black suits enter on the stage with great discipline. Every thing appear to be so meticulous. They all precisely know who will do what. Not many people chaotically drag benches and chairs on the stage. One man handles every thing silently but surely. I can't find squeaking mics and and finger taping. Stage lights faint and glow as they want. Conductor in his lengthy black suit walks briskly on to the stage, bows to the audience and then climbs his dais.. There is no lingering confusion in the air. All violinists draw their bows across their violins at a time and then flows out a stream of music like gushing water. It was the moment of thrill and breakthrough for me. For some of the musical instruments like Cello, harp, oboe,French Horn, bassoon, concert flute I was the first timer. It was a bonanza of different harmonics. The notes they produced were enormously tranquil. Few were graphic to my senses. It was as if I know where exactly they land and take off. The two hours concert was very fulfilling. If this is so satisfying I can imagine how Albert Hall prom should be.
The following days passed hassle free. I became less and less frigid and I was passing through the gates of concert hall with poise and dignity. I was attending to series of musical concerts like symphony, Opera, choirs, Wind Soloists, compositions on computers. Like modern art, modern music too is surrealistic. It is creative and tries to draw melody even from a ripples made by water droplets. However I try to relish it, it sounds drab to my years. I derive more joy in experiencing the art , than engaging in dichotomy . It is certain the art forms take changes over period but I fondly wish Mozarts and Beethovens are not lost in experimentation.
It was like new vistas opened to me. Surely they do not have so much of history as we do. But their music is profound and dates back to few centuries. The vast number of musicians have poured their heart to make it so brilliant. Instrumentation was an important part of Western music unlike predominantly oral Carnatic Music. I am not competent to write if one of them is more rigid than the other. As most of the musical instruments were invented in late nineteenth and twentieth centuries new keys were added to Western classical music in later stages as I understood. But it has very little in common with Oriental music. Many symphonies played remind us few bits of our old Hindi cinema songs. Perhaps certainly our old masters must have looked towards them for inspiration.. Our new film music has nothing to do with their classical, but imitate their latest pop albums to the letter. To a great extent we have successfully removed traces of Indian classical music from our tunes and incorporated hitherto unknown western notes into them, not to speak of the lyrics which comprise English in reasonable proportions.
The last day of my attendance I was greeted by an young lady in her early twenties. finally..I was noticed ! Why not ? Not a single soul with Salwar Kammez with a red sticker on her forehead was sighted any time in the concert hall.It was all me ! " Hi, I see you here. Are you a musician?" With out loosing a second I said "No" She smiled uncomfortably.
"Who am I ?" Am I a musician without accomplishments ? A patron? An admirer? Or just a music enthusiast ? What have I achieved to qualify myself to be some thing to it ? But all I know is, it means some thing to me.
