Musings from Margazhi season

On putting up with live tweeting, canteen menu discussions, and seeing youngsters in the audience

Prabha Sridevan

The Season is over. Some random thoughts struck me as I watched the scenes run before me. Time was when the women who came to the Music Academy were generally attired in Kanchipuram pattu and wore diamonds. It was like they were attending a wedding or a Navaratri kolu.

Not anymore. The variety now is striking. There may be the odd silk and diamond here and there, but they are not mandatory. The studiously disarrayed top-knot, jeans … anything goes.

The music season has also become the canteen season. There are even rankings among them. Was this menu better than that — actually, for tiffin you go here, but for elai sappadu go there. At one concert, the couple that sat near me discussed the merits and demerits of Asoka halwa. I bore it for a while, then bent towards them and said: “Please, konjam kutcheri kekkalaama?” (Please, can we listen to the concert a bit?)

The audience made me weep, at times. At one concert, a rasika near me insisted on singing along, and she was not in sync. My neighbour at another concert tapped the talam on her thigh, and she was clearly hearing a different beat. There were two persons in front of me who looked very much like visitors from overseas. I doubt if they listened to the vidwan singing . They were more interested in live Tweeting or Instagramming to let everybody know that they were there. “The board says don’t record video or audio. The volunteers come and tell you. still…why?” I asked. They glared, and put the devices away.

At a lec-dem, I requested for the mike, and said: “The vidwan is sharing his knowledge and art so generously, it is almost spiritual. And, can you only think of posting it on social media?” Many, including the artistes, thanked me later. But I am sure there were many glares. If sabhas had kept a box to vote for the most abrasive member of the audience, I might have actually won.

But I am being unfair. There were others who were different too. A young man and a woman at a morning free concert, moved me. They did not look like sabha regulars. She had vision problems, but could hear. They were immensely happy recognising the ragas. After the main raga she had to leave. He stayed back. The concert had come to the thillana stage. He took out a clutch of papers. He had marked all the free concerts at different sabhas. He checked out where he should go next.