Whose music is it anyway

Music competitions were a big event some decades gone by in Mumbai. As children, we would meticulously prepare the next competition. Write out a song list, learn new ones to fit the bill, pour hours of work into it. Enter the competition room with many a fear, expectation. There was never much surprise in the fact that usually the same judges, the same participants, the same feel went through the ambience. Many a thing was fair, many unfair. Sometimes the best was awarded, sometimes the worst. One can never fathom the complex mind of a judge, more so that of an unjust judge. It was a soft war ground. Jealousies and rivalry were carefully camouflaged, winning strategies were improvised, supporting parties attended in full swing. All in all, these events served a great purpose. They gave me a sense of courage, they urged me to put in my best in testing times, they gave a reason to enlarge my repertoire, they offered me the scope to analyse and understand the notions of bad, mediocre, good and best.

They also provided me study material for on democratic approach and fair play, principles I firmly adhere to.

When the summum came, that is the great day when prizes were distributed, it was like scaling the Everest. It was like standing atop after a lot of effort and there was a certain joy in taking home those lovely silver medals, silver lamps and bowls. It was also the day of wearing traditional clothes in soft yet crisp silk. In a small way, it was a day of reckoning. And the admonishing tone from my mother would always be - you have done well but remember there is a long way to go.

Handing over prizes as a guest of honour for the annual music and dance competition to several children last week at a cultural body in Mumbai, was a walk down memory lane. Scores of eager children awaited their turn for the different trophies. Yes, it was their happy moment.

Silver ware of course was replaced by shields and certificates but the excitement seemed the same. But some changes did strike me. Where were those beautiful clothes brought out with so much of anticipation and thrill for the great moment Where were many of those children whose parents came for the prizes instead The impact of the much spoken about ‘today’s world’ hit me rather strongly. Children are too overwhelmed by examinations and other burdens, so much so that their parents receive their prizes. There are several moments of exhilaration and reward, this one is one more amongst them. So, while there is excitement, there is also nonchalance.

The traditional finery can be done away with. In any case, the definition of traditional clothing has undergone a mutation, so much can be thought and said on that. In any case, the event left me nostalgic for many reasons, and left me thinking on account of many others. I was however happy that music and dance competitions still have takers who find time and eagerness to participate.

I did a comfortable but longish journey in a bus from Pune to Mumbai last evening. I was treated to different types of music, but never once with my consent. First my fellow passenger refused to put his phone on silent mode and received a call at the rate of every ten seconds.

I had to hear a raucous film tune hundred times over, so much so that I woke up in cold sweat in the middle of the night with a nightmare whose background score was that terrible tune. On a parallel footing, the very religious female passenger behind me, decided to hear musically rendered prayers. Where are your earphones lady No, it was a generous move to share musical sacred space with all and one. So I had to listen to Mahadeva tunes for a good twenty- five minutes. That over, a horrendous Hindi film began and it was full of noisy songs even through the dialogues. I was ready to jump off the bus until the Lonavala valley and a setting sun offered a respite of sublime beauty and calm to this musical mayhem. How important it is to cultivate ones sense of respect towards others and to chisel your aesthetics never appeared more valid to me than yesterday.

In all of this there was not a strand of classical music anywhere. The last I heard classical on a public transport body was on Air India. Take-off and landing were times allotted to a little snippet of mournful instrumental music. Thank God, it remained only a euphemistic description.

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