Yet another music season is on its way out and the silk
saris are going back into wardrobes after washing/dry cleaning/ airing.
Canteen chairs will slowly be stacked one over the other and
the Music Dance Drama section of the Hindu will be slowly shedding its extra
poundage.
Musicians will be taking stock of their performances and the
female members of the audience slowly reconciling themselves to home cooked
meals.
And before the second chapter of the music season, albeit a
watered down one, i.e, the Thyagaraja Aradhana starts, it would be well to
think back over some of the constants that have been part of the season for
years down the line.
Screechy mikes and thani exodus apart, one of the features
that have become an inseparable part of the festivities is a phenomenon called
‘concert hopping’.
Wikipedia or the Encyclopedia
Brittanica would perhaps define it thus: State of constant movement in concert
auditoria caused by migration of audience from one music recital to the other.
Concert hoppers are neither hoppers not concert attendees.
They are generally there as part of the surroundings, like the chairs or the
banners, mainly because they are never there, and yet always present! Like a
vague perfume that permeates the air-conditioned halls at the evening concert
at the Music Academy where the cream of society and the best in French perfumes
converge, the Sabha hopper may not be an entity himself. It is as though there
is one human being constituted by the sum total of walkers in and walkers out
that constitutes this ‘superman’.
It goes like this: afternoon concert A begins with a sum
total of 6 members, maybe more if the singer comes from a large Chennai based
family.
The two ‘unattached’ rasikas (those who are not bound to
their seats by ties of blood) will manifest the following predictable behavior if they are seasoned Chennai Isai Vizha
Rasikas.
They will listen to the first song. Politely applaud. The
next, if it is a rare ragam will trigger off a flurry of book opening. Then
comes the alapana. This is generally a signal for him to settle deep into his
seat and catch up on the missed eight hours of last night, thanks to his
nagging wife.
If he is considerate, he will not snore too loudly.
Otherwise, the remaining audience of 5, is in for an uppapakavadyam as rhythmic
gurgles and whistles emanate, in true mikeless spirit.
Generally the siesta concludes with the alapana if the fond
parents of the young artiste have the energy to contribute generously to the
applause and compensate for quantity by ample quality.
The kriti that follows the violinist’s solo is generally the
deciding factor. If it is a ‘Banturithi’, or a ‘Anandamrithakarshini’, the
awakened rasika generally sits through, nodding his head appreciatively. A ‘Thyagaraja Yoga Vaibhavam’ is generally a
surefire anti-rasika cream that ensures that the first stage of concert hopping
starts.
The rasika slowly makes the motions of departure: stirring
in the seat, fumbling for rexine pouch, testing the knees gingerly, and slowly lifting
oneself from the chair, generally maintaining the thala with one hand as if to
say: You are singing well, but you know…”
From where he slowly makes his way to the next sabha. For
the next two songs. And then to the next, and the next. Until the stock of
sabhas in the vicinity gives, or his tired frame decides that enough is enough
or he remembers the vegetables he had promised to get for his wife on his way
home.
And the cycle goes on. When he returns home, most probably
the conversation with his wife will go on thus:
“So how was the concert today?”
Rasika (shaking his head vigourously as if to draw from the
recesses of his memory): “Err.. very nice, I mean the one at ABC sabha was
good, the one at DEF mediocre and XY vidwan was extremely bad at GHI sabha. I
think the Shankarabaranam was ok, but the song that followed… I don’t
remember…”
Wife (helpfully) : Manasu Swadhina? Swararaga sudha? Endhuku
Peddala? Akshaya Linga?
Sabha Hopping husband: “ Just a minute… oh no, it was …
Pakkala Nilabadi.
And before his astonished wife can ask whether the artiste
was doing a T.M.Krishna act by prefacing the chaste Karaharapriya masterpiece
with a Shankarabharanam, the poor man concludes:
“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t there. I went elsewhere. I was
sabha hopping, you know. And here are the beans and tomatoes you asked for.”
