One of the off-beat pleasures of being present at a live Carnatic music concert, is to observe the different ways members of the audience respond to a performance. It is entertaining to watch the hard boiled rasikas, who usually carry an enormous baggage of knowledge, experience and expertise, and are thus fully primed to be either overly appreciative or downright dismissive of the artists on stage. To find someone in the audience with an open mind, would be akin to spotting a river running through the Sahara. The following are a few such categories of enthusiasts – which are merely a representative sample.
Nostalgic Narayanan: He is forever mentally locked in the 1940s to ’60s era. When the artist essays a particularly brilliant passage during an alapana in Kalyani, Nostalgic Narayanan will turn to his long suffering wife and stage whisper in her ear, “Is this supposed to be Kalyani? On this same stage, GNB has sung the defining Kalyani for all time to come. This upstart may as well pack up and go home”.
Later on in the concert, the poor artist embarks on Karaharapriya, at which point our protagonist turns once more to his life partner and mutters, “Karaharapriya is Semmangudi’s family wealth. This fellow has some nerve even attempting it”. Fortunately, he does not notice that his wife has now stuffed her ears with cotton wool.
The ragam conundrum : Audiences at a Carnatic concert are never at ease if they do not identify the raga being performed. This is a peculiarly unique condition that afflicts only Carnatic music aficionados. If a rarely heard raga is being sung or played, the audience gets into a royal tizzy. Agitated, they turn to their neighbours for help, pore over their Sangeeta Sampradaya Pradarshini, start googling, and generally look bereft, unable to focus on the concert. Finally, the artist decides to put the audience out of its collective misery and announces gravely, “Bindumalini”. There is a palpable sigh of relief, and everyone finally relaxes in their seats to enjoy the rest of the performance.
Talam tantrums : Keeping time or tala with the artist, has been a time -honoured occupational hazard at kutcheries. There are those who will do it in a subtle, noiseless manner, waving their hands and fingers delicately, and usually in sync with the artist and the kala pramaanam, or time. Others will be on the edge of their seats, proferring their hands ostentatiously at the artist, and time-clapping in a loud manner. These are the types who will be keeping time in misra chapu tala, while the song is being performed in adi tala! Some will also demonstrate a ‘yet-to-be discovered’ tala. And woe betide anyone who tries to stop them!
The hummingbird : It’s sing-along time folks. If a well known song is being sung, you can expect half the audience to hum along. This can be both hilarious and irritating, depending on how close you are to the pretender. At times the wannabe musicians will sing in a sruti or scale that bears no resemblance to the artist’s scale. But they will carry on undaunted!
Additionally, in most sabhas the hapless artist has to put up with squawking babies, collection plates being passed around, somebody strolling with a placard bearing a car number, a misguided enthusiast from the back shouting “Kurai onrum illai, please”, little girls walking onto the stage leaving request slips, VIPs entering or leaving in the middle of a concert, and everyone else in the audience craning their necks to get a better look at the celebrity.
If for nothing else, Carnatic musicians deserve our gratitude that they are able to perform day in and day out, keeping thousands of people happy, in the midst of so many challenges and obstacles, unique to this much loved and revered art form.
