Diva of the street

Ernesto, is this for real That was my first reaction on seeing the video that my Cuban friend shared with me. It is a clip from a film, thought I, convinced. The setting, the poise, the grace transcended the street-like. This was clearly more than pedestrian. A wonderful singer in her prime of life, in the middle of the cobbled streets of Havana, her powerful voice with its fantastic range that was completely mesmerising. She must a true Cuban cantatriz, was my surmise. A veteran theatre artiste without doubt. She held a fan in her left hand, and on the right casually slung a basket up her arm and held conical packets — those that we are most familiar with at every nook, bend and signal packets of peanuts to munch upon. She swung the fan open with a gentle swish and it would gracefully spread itself out. With the same casual movement she would shut it close. At her bidding, it would unfold itself again with the same seemingly careless jerk. The fan was at her behest; it remained in her hand as if enchanted, entranced, under a spell. It unfurled, recoiled, regained its fan-like pleats. She swayed softly to her own music as her robust and beautiful voice filled up the street space around her. Life went by around her, people walking, vehicles honking. The cantatriz was involved in her own music, the magic of her voice enveloping the space around her and within her. An elegant twitch, a certain lofty look as she shifted her gaze from this to that, with the slight trace of a haughty smile and the grandeur of her song. Her simple grey gown was well-assorted with the deep red of its frills, head gear and the red of the fan. These colours made a striking contrast with the shining black of her skin. Watching her instantly brought to mind Manet’s Olympia. I have always been drawn to the black lady who stands waiting in the immortal painting, not in the forefront of the tableau, but still an important element in her quiet finesse, flowers in her hand. This time, the flowers were replaced by the fan and the music. When I heard this performance, I was bemused. A nice film setting, and a remarkable actor.

Ernesto, this is a film, right Or is she really a peanut vendor That couldn’t be, I am sure To my greatest surprise, Ernesto refuted the hypothesis. No, she is truly a peanut vendor; I see her everyday in Havana. That took my breath away. The natural flair, her dignified sophistication and her magnificent music all for the taking on the streets everyday! I do not know her story. I do not even know her name. Ernesto is on a long flight and away from his hometown and cannot give me any more information than this beautiful clip he sent me. Perhaps she is a theatre artiste, an opera singer with training, after all I do not know. But what I do know is that here is a modest peanut vendor, transforming her wares — a basket, the conical holders and a fan, into her ultimate instruments of music and theatre. I do also know that she enjoys her song, she makes the street her stage and woos listeners continents away like me, who wonder where she came from and how she manages her act so skillfully with simplicity. I have heard some moving voices in the suburban trains of Mumbai, making their song their daily livelihood, covering their sorrows in a music drenched world. These, like the unknown Cuban peanut vendor, entirely epitomise the oft-used expression — music is a way of life.

Dr Vasumathi Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. She can be contacted on vasu@vasumathi.net