Yours Whimsically - Part 4: Of music classes and more

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 2^nd 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 2^nd 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 2^nd 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.