As far as I have seen, it is
still considered fashionable in South Indian Brahmin households (at least in
Bengaluru) to have their children trained in either classical music or dance. (God
bless them, for it is because of them that there is still a popular base for
these art forms – in times when the audience is dwindling elsewhere.) Our
family is no different. Almost all my cousins have dabbled with classical music
at one point of time or another. A couple of my sisters are trained dancers.
However, I find the case of one of my cousins very interesting. He trained as a
percussionist for several years. Today, the instrument sits safely in the attic,
brought down only during the time of Ayudha Pooja, perhaps. Now follows
the irony: his wife and her mother are both performing artists!
My brother was made to train
under a music teacher when he was in Class Five, if I remember right. Two years
later, someone hit upon this brilliant idea: if the elder can do it, why not
the younger?! Thus, when I was in Class One, much before I could actually work
out what exactly was happening, it was decided that I would join the class with
my brother. May be, it was because I would hum the songs which my brother was
taught. I can actually imagine some elderly person sitting with a thoughtful
expression on his/her face, saying ‘He has got potential. Why don't you find him a teacher?’ (Damn the reality
shows for corrupting the imagination!)
Now came the difficult bit – of deciding
the tutor. The instructor under who my brother trained was found to be ‘not
satisfactory’ or not the one who could unleash my brother’s true potential. He
had no option but to switch. One of our uncles suggested someone who he knew
personally. That someone had name and fame as an acclaimed artist. It was
probably his imposing personality that made us chicken out. Moreover, I do not
think anybody in the family thought that either my brother or I had a career in
music. Hence, there was no reason to train under a performing artist, was
there? A family friend suggested a lady under who he had been training for
several years. The tutor’s house was close by. She had good voice &
knowledge and was quite gentle (With due respect, I am not sure if timid is the
right word here). That sealed the deal.
We did make significant progress.
For quite a few years, my brother and I would be the “trophies” at all family
gatherings, asked to sing – together – in front of the guests (Who said that it
is only chinaware which is displayed when guests come home?!). However, in
hindsight, I believe my brother and I never realized the significance of being
classically trained as long as we were under her tutelage. We are guilty of
having faked ulcers in the mouth, sore throat, guests-at-home and a few other
excuses because, that way, the class would last just one-fifth of the usual
time, sometimes lesser. For nearly eight long years, I trained under her, getting
the basics right but never fully comprehending the value of what I was
learning. My brother changed the tutor midway, quite unceremoniously, and it
was left to me to handle the situation. Eventually, she realized that my
brother would not come back to her music class again, though she was kind
enough not to question me on that.
When my turn came, it was Class
Ten to the rescue. Since that year was a “game changer”, I could not devote
time to attend music classes. Thus, I too quit her class, only to join my
brother. It was there that I understood what had gone wrong for the past eight
years. I had never been serious (except, perhaps, during the time I was
preparing for the junior level certification exam) but had always been
passable. Hence, there was no chance of a reprimand by the teacher. However,
under the instructor I had just joined, merely being passable was not enough.
Also, with other students being very competent, you had to be competent too to
be in business. Excuses like ulcers wouldn’t work here! A much needed jerk now
provided, I began to look at music classes in a different light.
Two years later, I had quit the classes since they clashed with my tuitions for 2nd PUC (Tuitions
are the biggest scams, in my opinion. Not 2G. Not coal blocks allocation. These).
This time, though, I wasn’t lying. I never got to resume training for, after
2nd PUC, I moved into a hostel in a faraway land. The instructor
offered to conduct classes over Skype. Not feasible enough, though.
I very vividly remember one thing
that the lady teacher said. She said she never taught anybody compositions in Raga
Varali. She believed that if taught, that composition would be the last
ever composition taught and the guru-shishya relationship would end. It
was a belief she had cultivated under her teacher. Believe it or not, the last
ever composition I learnt completely before I quit classes in 2nd
PUC was in Varali!
Everytime I go home, there is a
strange urge to go and check if the teacher – whose class we quit so unceremoniously
– is still around. If she is, maybe my brother & I could go, talk to her.
Thank her, perhaps. However, I have never gathered the guts to do it.
