Helpful Tips to Kacheri Listening
Also, N.V. Mani requires some serious attention. Lets all hope this weekend will be better than my last few.
This is written for single, twenty-something males with little or no knowledge of Carnatic music. But others can apply these fundae wherever it is applicable.
***
There are many reasons why the classical-musically-disinclined amongst you might find yourselves at a Carnatic Music concert. Your friend is an enthusiast, and he (hopefully, she) believes that three hours of T.N. Seshagopalan might change your life. Your good friend plays the violin and you're obliged to listen. You find that the girl you find interesting finds Carnatic Music more interesting. You think, for some strange reason, that T.V.Sankaranarayanan could be the front-man for a heavy metal band playing screeching guitar solos, and end up in a more demure atmosphere instead. You might be under the common misconception that pretty Iyengar girls come to kacheris. You might just wander into Music Academy for the air-conditioning on a hot December afternoon.
In such situations, life can be awkward. You could find yourself out of place, like a fish out of water, like Alastair Cook in a T20 game, like Bobby Deol in a movie, like a Bombay-ite in a Madras auto, like a Delhi-ite trying to eat rasam saadam off a banana leaf... (you get the general idea).
Here is a simple guide to looking the part (even if you don't feel the part).
1. The Dress: If you've lived in South India for long enough, you'll know that if someone notices your clothes, you're overdressed. And really, that's the way the world should be. (Btw, Koramangala is not South India anymore). So, if you think wearing a fabindia kurta is proper attire for a kacheri, then you're wrong. That is the first mistake newbies make. Because when a mama sees you in a fabindia kurta, he knows you're a pretender. He'll scoff at you and tell you an in-those-days-we-all-sang-raagam-taanam-pallavi-sitting-in-our-verandas-while-doing-maths-homework-type story.
Wear a checked shirt. Preferably vague brands such as SVK, VBR, Discent purchased at small shops around Mylapore tank or non-AC shops in Pondy bazaar (And, no. Don't wear the white shirt from Ramraj Cottons. People will presume you're one of the artistes.). Then, we come to the bottom-half of the dress. You can either wear a pair of trousers, again, belonging to one of these vague brands. Or you could wear a veshti. Remember, the veshti cannot have a jari border or be too white and too ironed. Else, again, people will think you're the artiste.
Carry a yellow cloth pye, preferably with the little Ready Raga Reckoner in it. You can fill the pye with random pink and yellow sheets of paper with Tamil writing, a copy of the panchangam, Reynolds pen, Odomos tube, random small notebook with name of respectable south Indian company (Shree Lakshmi Cotton Mills, Sundaram Finance) written on it.
2. What to do during the kacheri:
(a) The first challenge is managing to stay awake. There are things you can try. Like counting the hairs on head of the bald-mama sitting in front of you. Making snide remarks (to yourself) about someone's garish silk podavai with ugly golden border could also be considered. It is really interesting to watch the mridangam and ghatam/kanjira/morsing player make eyes at each other. They do it unnaturally often. If it is an open air place, you could spend time taking an Odomos tube out of your yellow pye (see above), applying it carefully over each part of your body exposed to winged-threats and offering it to your neighbour.
(b) Taalam. Many inexperienced listeners try keeping taalam. That is a common mistake. Let me elaborate.
There are many kinds of taalam keepers. The first kind does not know the taalam, but thinks it essential that he must wave his hands enthusiastically to the beat. The second is the excited new listener, who has just learnt to keep taalam - falls apart when the neraval or swarams set in. The third sort is the more experienced second sort - who can keep taalam correctly for most of the kacheri. The fourth sort knows the taalam quite well, but doesn't feel the need to show off his skills - he's beyond all that. The taalam just runs in his head. Once in a while, he'll slap his thigh in appreciation on the concluding beat of a long calculation. The fifth sort is the official taalam keeper for the kacheri - look out for him/her in the first row or behind the main artiste with a tambura. There is an elusive sixth sort - one who knows the taalam well enough to keep it in his sleep. He is sleepy, but doesn't want people to know that he's sleeping during a kacheri. So, he'll close his eyes, keep taalam and doze off. The taalam continues monotonously without any sign of a mistake. People think he's engrossed in the music. Actually, he's catching up on sleep after last night's party.
Now, if you don't know the taalam too well, you might be tempted to slot yourself in the first category and execute dance moves with your hands. Don't. Exercise restraint. The best tactic is to seem like the fourth category. That takes some acting. Let out a "Sabhaash!" at a random spot in the song, and nod knowingly at the mridangist. (Warning: don't do this too often, or they'll call your bluff. Twice in the concert, maximum.) During raga alapanas, a 'mtch-mtch' is much appreciated by your neighbours.
(c) Other activities. You could have your phone in your shirt pocket, let it ring and spend three excruciating minutes fumbling to turn it off. If you have the Ready Raga Reckoner, you could put it in a plastic cover in your yellow pye, and take it out at the start of each song and put it back into the plastic cover after referring to it. Make noise and attract attention to yourself each time with the plastic cover. Doing things noiselessly is unbecoming of an experienced kacheri listener.
3. Useful lines to say to the mama sitting next to you:
Say this in a lamenting tone: "Nobody sings padams anymore... Brinda-Mukta... They were the last great musicians. And Tiger before them..." (If you're really curious about 'Tiger', check this out.)
"Dikshitar kritis are a true test of one's musical prowess..." This can work in both circumstances - when the singer is actually singing Dikshitar kritis, the mama will assume you're making a comment on the Dikshitar kriti; and if he's not, then the mama will think you're suggesting that the singer must sing Dikshitar kritis instead of whatever he's singing. This will set you amongst the intellectual listeners.
If you're at a young artiste's performance, "Youngsters these days are in a hurry to get on stage and perform. In those days..."
At an old artiste's performance, "Oh. I heard this old recording of when
Dangers of this approach are many.
(a) The mama sitting next to you might seek to clarify raagam doubts from you.
Suggested response: "Mama! Of course you know this raagam!" Or, "Let me give you a hint. There is a tillana by T.K. Rangachari in this raagam. Very famous!" T.K. Rangachari was a great enough musician to have composed a tillana in his time, and he is obscure enough for the mama to think that the tillana might have escaped his attention somehow.
Second suggested response: "Mama, I've actually learnt only Hindustani music." Pronounce Hindustani as in-dus-ta-ni (the 't' and 'd' being pronounced as in 'turgid' and the 'n' as in 'ponnu'). This gives you the opportunity to tell the mama that the corresponding raagam in in-dus-ta-ni is 'Meend' or 'Jeeral' (neither raga exists, to my knowledge, but they're sufficiently North Indian sounding and sufficiently vague).
(b) The mama sitting next to you might ask you for your educational qualification, employment particulars, marital status and horoscope details.
Here, you make an assessment. Do you really want this mama to be your father-in-law? But you have to make another assessment first - is the mama 'looking' for his daughter? Or granddaughter? Or is it his neice/grandneice/similarly situated relative? Friend's daughter? Enemy's daughter? Or is he really liberal and is 'looking' for his son/ grandson/ grandnephew/ nephew? If you think the counter-party that this mama offers could be interesting, you could respond with relevant details. (You can look around him to see if any interesting-looking personalities are sitting around him.)
Otherwise, you can repel the mama with, "Mama, I am a divorcee." (Pronounce it as dye-voar-see)
Also try, "I am working at Satyam."
4. Things to tell the Artistes if you bump into them: Compliment the artistes on their 'laya' (rhythm) or 'shruti shuddham' (pitch perfectness.)(Actually, after a rock concert, go backstage and tell the lead singer, "Sir, you have such srutisuddham!" That might be fun.). Don't tell them they have 'beautiful voices' or that they are 'energetic' - that's just low-level complimentation.
Other cool things to try:
If it is a female singer, "M.S. would have been proud of this concert!"
If it is a male singer, "Oh, it felt like I was listening to Ariyakkudi again!"
If it is an instrumentalist, "You sound just like your guru!"
You can freak them out with this:
"In 1947, I heard GNB at RR Sabha... This concert was just like that!"
The artiste will give you an incredulous look. And then you reply, matter of factly, "In my last life," and walk away into the crowd.
12 replies:
> You can fill the pye with random p
> pink and yellow sheets of paper...
> ...(Shree Lakshmi Cotton Mills,
> Sundaram Finance) written on it.
Sabhaash.
> People think he's engrossed in the
> music. Actually, he's catching up
> on sleep after last night's party.
Sabhaash.
> Also try, "I am working at
> Satyam."
Sabhaash!
Oops...
But anyway, points of order.
1. I think veshti is also overkill for 20-something male. Check shirt and dark pant with chappals is best.
2. Taalam putters are all con-persons! It is proved beyond doubt.
3. Food section/options are missing from this piece.
Otherwise, what can I say? "In 2001, I heard Douglas Adams at MIT...This piece was just like that."
"In his last life."
kanjira players have TERRIFIC expressions that can send you into paroxysms of laughter. especially dangerous when you're in a not very full hall and the singer knows you personally :P
captcha: evari (booodhanaa viiniii etc etc)
In MFA it is still acceptable to sit in the 'balcony' and sleep. Especially during the afternoon katcheris. Even more so after 2 bondas and one tea.
But the most comfortable chairs to sleep in are to be found in the first five rows of said sabha. They have those old kai-veccha cane chairs. Sugam only.
LOL... this has to be your funniest post ever!
>>in-those-days-we-all-sang-raagam-taanam-pallavi-sitting-in-our-verandas-while-doing-maths-homework-type
LOL.. This is an awesome list!
As to counting the hair on the head of the hair-challenged mama in front, I have done that a decade or so ago..
20 something male with some knowledge of carnatic, loved this post
@Ludwig
But food section/ options are available only during the season. Rest of the year, you just walk down to your nearest woodlands/ saravanabhavan...
@s
marubaaa aaaaaari.
@Vidya
:) I spent an entire summer holidays at Hamsadhwani in Indiranagar doing exactly that.
@Varali
Ooh. MFA. They wrote me some serious hate mail for this paragraph in an article in Sruti:
"It might just be easier to appreciate music in a local train in Bombay, at a DMK political rally or during a Taliban attack in Kabul. Sitting in the last row, I was constantly distracted by smells of fresh sambar, hot decoction, the sounds of a wet grinder, buzzing mosquitoes and sundry chatter. When the imbalanced sound system and its vagaries are added to this noxious mix, the listener gets the feeling he's sitting in a torturous heavy metal concert and not even allowed to headbang."
But yes. Those seats in front are awesome. Although I like the KGS ones better...
@Anand, idlichtuney,
Thanks!
hilarious! loved the "you sound like your guru" bit!
Ha ha...great post! Tempted to come up with a similar guide to watching test cricket.
@Anjana
Thanks!
@Suhas
Heh. Please do!
orey funny. did not expect a hard core karnataga isai phellow like you to jest about it. I would have expected you to turn your nose up at me if I ever walked into the same kacheri as you :P
I live with a family of Carnatic-music enthusiasts. Because I've been listening to it throughout my childhood, I think my brain has been conditioned to fall asleep. Try as I might - I can't surpass 2A. Sigh.
Post a Comment