Sankaran Sings

A singer, in my opinion, of high calibre, not popular in Chennai sang in a school premises under the auspices of small sabha. The concert was at an uncomfortable 4: 00 pm. We go there 30 minutes early and find we are the first to arrive. We are welcomed by a make shift canteen (alu mooti - ಅಳು ಮೂತಿ - meaning dreary) manager. We have coffee and the manager /bearer and the cook are polite and happy to see us. It is easy to see why. A few minutes later we see the artists of the evening at a distance. We get into the hall, find our seats and settle down. We stare at the curtains covering the stage. Curtains are old, discoloured; walls need a fresh coat of paint and a stone plaque declares that is was opened by someone important at that time. It is a Karnataka association and the office bearers for years have been incompetent and lazy and the bad shape of the hall is a testimony to it (cynically one feels like saying’ what else can you expect from …‘)

 A tilted photograph of ‘ Trinity ‘ ( composers Thyagaraja, Dikshitar and Shyama Shastry ) is hanging on a wall near  a corner with a garish , ‘zero watt ‘ yellow  bulb (somewhat  like you may  find in a  ‘ Hindu military ‘ hotel )  shining on it; next to it , a faded donor, long since dead, looks down on us solemnly. No announcements are made and at 4 pm sharp the curtain goes up.  I count. There are 10 (perhaps 12) people in the hall and after half an hour it swells to 16.  A cleaning lady is still busy in her work hardly concerned about the stage artists or us. There are four people on the stage – main singer in a red kurta, a violinist, a mrudangam player and a serious looking teenage sishya . No thamburas but Radel is the on display.

Sankaran smiles and starts his concert as though he is singing to a full house. He has a strong, vibrant, full throated, enthusiastic voice. He sings, often appearing, as if he is explaining to us. He seems unconcerned about anything else. He sings phrases and almost applauds himself or at least approves them before going further. He sings to Gods as they say and I feel they must be satisfied.

Violinist is sad faced and looks even sadder whenever he looks at us. He plays well and gets some approval from Sankaran and a smile from mrudangam player. A smile appears on his face as he treasures the appreciation of his community - of two. (Reminds me of a scene in ‘Everyone loves Raymond ‘; Frank says he may face dishonour in his community. When son jeers and says ‘what community, there are only a few oldies’. He responds that they are his community).

More seriously I wonder what motivates these people and what sort of fortitude they should have to survive let alone prosper. At the end of the concert (almost ' mangalam' time) there is some commotion as a few people start getting into the hall. I realize with some shame that they are rushing in for the next program, perhaps more popular, hardly concerned with the feelings of artists on the stage. The concert ends as it began with no announcements.

The concert was very good to my ears and when it ended I get up with joy and sadness.