“Jai Jai Bheem ennu solvo mein (We will sing ‘Jai Jai Bheem’)” croon the members of The Casteless Collective at the studio space in Nungambakkam. Of the 19-member collective, four — Isaivani, Tenma, Arivu and Muthu — have assembled here. They sing the same song they had sung in January at a public performance in Kilpauk, which had sent the crowd into absolute raptures.
“The feedback was overwhelming. People could get the politics. When Arivu, one of our singers, sang ‘Madrasin Magizhchi’, people could relate to what he was singing. It was a politically aware crowd who had gathered here,” says Tenma, band member.
CHENNAI : 29-01-2018-- 'Castless Collectove' A Gana band troupe in Chennai. Photo: K.V. Srinivasan
Other songs that make the musical repertoire of the collective are numbers on beef curry, jubilant songs on equality, cries against caste divisions, manual scavenging and slavery, and the vision of icons such as BR Ambedkar and Mahatma Gandhi. Rap, hip-hop, gaana and cinema strains are woven into their musical narrative. Their instruments are as diverse as the music: they also use katte and chatti , typical of the gaana tradition.
It all began last June, when Tenma, who was part of the Tamil indie music band Kurangan, got in touch with Neelam Cultural Centre, through city-based environmental activist Nityanand Jayaraman. “I knew Nity through working with him for the Urur Olcott Kuppam Vizha and the Justice Rocks event. The centre, which is a brainchild of filmmaker Pa Ranjith, wanted a political band that used the elements of gaana, rock and pop music. And, I am also from North Madras. I have been researching about gaana music since 2005. Through Madras Records, we conducted a 10-day residency, for which I was the curation director. We also teamed up with the Dopeadelicz rap collective from Mumbai, who were also looking for cross-cultural collaboration during this time,” recalls Tenma.
CHENNAI : 29-01-2018-- 'Castless Collectove' A Gana band troupe in Chennai. Photo: K.V. Srinivasan
For the initial audition, around 100 people came. From that, they had to filter the 19 singers. The band, which Tenma describes as an “army” in terms of organising, consists of artistes from various schools of music. Around seven were from the gaana music tradition, still kept alive in North Chennai.
Working with the gaana artistes was a revelation, says Tenma. “I had to unlearn a lot, and disassociate myself from the pop music background. There is nothing academic about gaana music. It took me 10 days to understand this form. I had to see where the form can meet the other genres such as hip-hop and rap music and also train the artistes vocally. The stories are beautiful too.”
Some of the names which the troupe considered as legends of the music tradition, were lost to the ears of Tenma. “It is a shame we do not know of them. For instance, Chetpet Ramesh is considered one of the holy trinity of gaana music. Many of us have not even heard of him. It is decades of abuse and oppression that have led to this negligence of a musical tradition,” he says.
Visceral art form
Tamil cinema has acknowledged the presence of gaana music to an extent, even though it does not use it in its authentic version, but more in a way to fit its scheme. “It is a very visceral art form. Heart decides the tune. And, these songs could be of anything… death, marriage, happiness in the family, social issues. Enna Muthu? Will you write a song on her?” Tenma asks one of the singers to sing about the female photographer in the room. And, Muthu in a split second launches into a song on the hurdles faced by the modern woman and, despite all that, how she does everything a man does. “We need a concept to work around. Once that is fixed, making a song is easy,” Muthu smiles.
Madurai,Tamil Nadu, 20/10/2017: Film Director Pa. Ranjith pRESS Meet at Madurai.photo: S.Krishnamoorthy
Many of them have grown up watching their fathers and mothers sing these songs at home. Like Isaivani, the only female singer in the troupe who dazzled everyone in the crowd at the Kilpauk show with her number on beef, or Arivu, an engineering graduate, who wrote songs against manual scavenging and honour killing. “Ambedkar wanted to demolish the caste system and he wanted the people to be liberated. For centuries, their problems were left unaddressed. Even now, these sensibilities exist. When someone asks you which street are you from, they are trying to place you within the caste context. It surfaces in our debates on reservation. People still question the relevance of the reservation system, even when caste-related inequality is glaring in our society. My politicisation has not happened overnight. I am born into it,” he says.
The prejudice against people in North Chennai should also disappear; it is unfair that the region is eternally associated with crime and gangsters, observes Tenma. “We need to break these divides. The band has a Punjabi, a Tamil percussionist, rappers from Mumbai and an artiste from Puduppettai. We are a bunch of guys who want to do something. It is a collective to celebrate equality.”
