S itting a few rows away from the stage in Narada Gana Sabha, I spot a tall man with a Dumbledoresque beard. He’s clad in a perfectly-crisp veshti with a royal purple border and a parrot-green kurta . His kala pramanam (keeping time) during the tani avartanam is almost more accurate than that of the upapakkavadhyam artist, and yet, there’s something about him that is different. As I lean closer, I see his mouth open, murmuring something to a friend in a distinctively European accent. He is only one of the many foreigners who have travelled across the world, seeking the artistic bliss of the famed Chennai Margazhi season.
Lars Fredriksson is a Swedish rasika and Margazhi veteran. He has been returning to Chennai almost every year since 2004. We sit down to cups of piping-hot oolong tea on the terrace of his Mylapore apartment, which he has been renting for four months every year, ever since his first trip to Chennai. He fluently spouts the names of stalwarts who introduced him to the world of Carnatic music: M.D. Ramanathan, M.S. Subbulakshmi, and Nedunuri Krishnamurthy, to name a few. He is one of the most seasoned rasikas and the almost-yearly trips to Chennai have given him a krithi repertoire that’s hard to beat.
When asked what drew him to the art form, he simply states, “The religious music: it channels out into total joy.” As he chats, he reminisces on his days growing up in a small town in Sweden, stumbling upon records of Drupad music that paved the way for Carnatic music to follow.
The sentiment is echoed by many others, though for some, the perspective of a performing artist makes the experience even more noteworthy. Take Eric, Karol, and Claude, professional French drummers. Though well-versed in their own instrumentation, visits from Indian percussion artists like ghatam maestro Vikku Vinayakram exposed Claude to a system of percussive music that was joyously different, a difference he then introduced to students Eric and Karol. They use their visits to Chennai to listen, learn, and absorb. Although it is Eric’s first time in Chennai, Karol and Claude have been regulars on the Margazhi scene for the last three years.
“W e do not want to present fusion music. Instead, we want to create a bridge between Indian and Western music. The presentation is our own, but the roots are Indian,” Claude says. When asked about their visits to Chennai and whose concerts they have enjoyed the most, they say it’s a hard choice. “Everyone is so different, we like them all!” Eric says with a half-shrug. But Karol chimes in, “I really like Trichur Brothers and Gayathri Venkataraghavan. Her voice — it’s superb.”
With a music system so rooted in tradition and an audience that is often attuned to the performance format, it’s a wonder that foreigners don’t feel isolated by the multitude of languages and syllables swirling about. “But that’s what I find fascinating,” says Lukas Mantel, who is here for the first time. He plans to return next year. A performing drummer, Lukas has travelled from Switzerland on a grant from the Swiss Arts Council’s Pro Helvetia initiative, taking up residence in a flat in Mylapore for three weeks, so he can soak in as much of the music season as possible. His focus? Translating konakkol to Western jazz drums, he says, and if that sends your mind into a creative spiral, he recites a korvai with ease to demonstrate. He approaches the season with childlike wonder. When asked if he has a favourite, he replies sheepishly, “I wish I could say I do, but I have discovered so many new artistes in the last few days. I’m sure in the coming two weeks, I’ll discover 10 more!”
As they meander around the streets of Mylapore, tucking into a plate of steaming-hot pongal and golden-brown vadais at a roadside tiffin stall, it’s abundantly clear that they have made Chennai their own. A temporary home in which they wander about cheerfully, humming along to a comforting khamas.
