True rasika and music concerts

When it comes to classical music, I understand less than nothing.

No, this is not false modesty.

I really don't understand anything. I am more on the feroe naturoe side, with very sensitive and highly untuned ears.

I cannot differentiate between Raag Malhar and Raag Miyan ki Malhaar. Neither can I understand the nuances of Raag Puriya Dhanasree or Raag Jhinjhoti. But, I have felt ecstasy with Raag Malkauns, the adrenaline rush with Raag Durga and wept with Raag Asavari.

In fact, I have picked up the names of these raagas and other related terms from the Margazhi utsavs at Chennai and few concerts at Mumbai. Thank you very much for noticing my knowledge.

I won’t get into how a Chennai rasika differs or resembles a Mumbai rasika. That means comparing cultures, which can never be free from controversy, for which I have no stomach as of now. It is already full with butter chicken and jeera rice.

Indeed, I am one of the more hedonistic people.

And pretty observant.

Based on the fifty odd concerts I have attended, I have classified the people who attend musical concerts. Mind you, this is the general classification and there would be (and I pray, there are) more groups out there waiting to be explored. So, here is the list:

The Culture Vulture
Rarely found alone, a Culture Vulture is either too rich or has too much time to spare or wants to show off his ‘deep and intense interest’ in all things that can possibly have the adjective ‘cultural’.
Or any combinations thereof.

A culture vulture parades her (generally plus-sized) carcass in dark colored designer traditional wear, dripping with oversized bling and bindis, clutching the latest mobile handset in her perfectly manicured fingers. I am sorry, ladies, but culture vultures are mostly female, though males are also making their presence felt here.

They come fashionably late (frequently after the alapana is over), insist of air kissing every known face, nod their heads more forcibly & more often and check if someone is checking them out.

They buy the most expensive seats, closest to the performers and make sure they irritate the general populace by regularly leaving their costly seats, gesticulating madly, talking over their mobiles. Since they are the ‘true’ music lovers, they always stand tall when they are walking away, ensuring everyone has a good look at them. They chew gum as if their lives depended on the movement of their mandibular muscles. They distract the musicians by flash of their expensive cameras. And they always leave mid-way citing ‘business’ constraints.

Though you might desire to shoot them in the head, they are the sponsors or are related to them and, most unfortunately, cannot be eliminated.

The Boisterous Ignoramus
Mostly male and mostly alone, the boisterous ignoramus knows precious little or nothing about music. But that does not stop him from doling out knowledge; even the fact that people around may not be familiar with him is the least obstruction to his magnanimity. He believes in explanation, elaboration and elucidation.

Right when the music is on.

His desire to share knowledge is so great that he disregards the cold stares, verbal grunts and closed body language you exhibit. I had to silence one particularly stellar example of this kind by digging in my fingers into his shoulder.

I know that was un-musical (if there is a word like that) but, after 'a woman scorned', Hell hath no fury like a hedonist interrupted.

Nostalgically Yours
This silver-haired kind is generally found in groups of two or three, of heterogeneous composition. They are from the ‘good old days’ when, based on their geography, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, Hirabai Barodekar, Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar, Chembai Vaidyanathan Bhagavathar and other stalwarts ruled the roost.

They dicuss how the current crop lacks the ‘force of shaking the world’, whatever that means.

Right in the middle of a concert.

As the concert progresses, the gati of their talking changes from vilambit to drut to ati drut. and the matters under discussion slide to being more worldly, like someone's son going to US for higher studies, or someone's daughter-in-law is breaking apart the family and so on. This kind is more perceptive of cold stares and generally stops talking immediately, only to resume after a couple of minutes.

I like to listen to old people, but I am mean beyond measure when they meddle with my aural pleasure. I once silenced a group of three geriatrics by taking few threatening steps towards their leader, but I stopped six feet short.

They were dangerously armed.

With walking sticks.

The Incessant Drummer
Only males do this, thank God for that. The incessant drummer believes his very birth is for percussion. He drums on his arm rest, on the backrest of the chair in front of him, on his mobile, on his bag, on his knee. He drums through all the pieces, all the tempos and all the time.

And hopelessly out of tune.

As perceptive as the boisterous ignoramus, he looks at people, but only for recognition for the great show he is putting on for them. If seated next to such a specimen. I generally change my seat, if possible.

At Chennai, there was this guy who was drumming on his knee incessantly. Twice at my request, he did stop only to start again within five minutes. Third time, I drummed his knee.

Only once.

Only harder.

With my fist.

He changed his seat.

I am not responsible for the consequences if you don’t look menacing, like I do, while trying this method. I know that was un-musical too (since I used it twice by now, it is definitely a word), but you have to do some things for the betterment of mankind.

The Expert Cribber:
Belonging to either gender, this type knows something about music. But rather than going with the flow, they try to create their own tributaries or suggest alternate ways in which the performer could have sung/played. Though this type is irritating in its own respect, they shut up as soon as you stare at them. Keep staring at them at regular intervals to stop them from metamorphosing into a Boisterous Ignoramus.

For the rest of the concert, they might be stare daggers at you for not getting a chance to present their skills, but a true hedonist knows that someone else’s anger is irrelevant when it comes to sensory pleasure.

The Indulgent Parent
This kind brings their young kids, actively pointing out to acquaintances that it was the kid that insisted on attending the concert, how s/he loves the sound of veena/sitar/sarod etc. or how s/he used to sleep only when Darbari Kanada was on. They are also quick to point out that the kid attends violin and mridangam and piano classes along with karate classes.

If you are lucky, the kid generally sleeps early through the concert due to all those classes or boredom or airconditioning. Otherwise, s/he whimpers to be escorted to the bathroom roughly eighteen times during the three hour concert.

Or snacks noisily on chips.

Or fights with siblings, if any.

Or demands to be taken home.

Or all the above at the same time.

The Indulgent Parent is a sort of Culture Vulture, but rather than precious stones, they show off the fruit of their loins. If you are located next to them, change your seat.

Or you can, as it comes naturally to me, scare the kid into leaving. This might make you slightly unpopular with the parent/s but, remember if you wanted to watch kids playing, you would have gone to a park.

The Mobile Idiot
By mistake or by choice, this person will not silence his mobile. And the fateful instrument will start singing the worst remix of ‘Pappu cant dance, sala’ or ‘Munni badnaam hui’ when a jugalbandi between the kanjira and mridangam is in full force. His/her reaction is nothing short of classic.

First, s/he looks around in irritation wanting to kill the sinner.

Then s/he realized it is his/her own.

Then s/he sticks his/her tongue out.

Meanwhile, you vacillate between wondering whether the stuck out tongue is going to silence the pesky instrument and thinking of clubbing the clod on the head with something sharp.

S/he searches for the mobile, still ringing, takes it out of wherever it had chosen to hide, stares at the number for infinite seconds and then takes the call or cuts it off.

By now, you had decided to throw something, but you are ruing that you forgot to pick some sharp stones before you got in.

Does not happen more than once per person per concert, but with human stupidity being boundless, you never know.

The Connected Friend
This type will call his/her friend sitting at some other row/seat and tell her how s/he enjoyed the just ended piece and how the other thought. You are moved by this old fashioned human camaraderie and you pray they die together.

At that very moment.

The Applauder
This person’s claps and his ‘wah wah’s are the loudest.

Sometimes, even the longest.

And he really cannot understand why people are staring at him when all he is doing is appreciating the music. In fact, he is enjoying more than the others, as is evident by his response.

Can get really irritating for people who have particularly sensitive ears, like mine. But generally harmless.

The Quiet Enjoyer
The best type to be seated next to. They are neither seen nor heard when the concert is on. They may possess deep understanding of music or have none. Generally alone or in pairs, this kind switch off or put their phones into the silent mode. They consider it as a sacrilege to talk when the concert is on, even in between the individual pieces. They come, sit and leave quietly.

Sometimes, they shed tears.

They might note down the name of the raga, but apart from that, their pleasure is mostly aural.

Once, I sat next to an old couple in Chennai. In the three and a half hour concert, they talked only once, that too, when the lady wanted water which was in her husband’s bag. After the concert was over, the lady astutely observed I did not look like I was from around. That was strange, since I do look like a South Indian. I said yes, I am from Mumbai. She inquired how come you are attending a Carnatic concert sung in Tamil and Telugu? What did you understand? Where are your friends? I replied I came alone, was drawn by the music & the percussion and understood nothing. The couple was quite pleased that someone so removed from the culture could enjoy music per se. Out of sheer reverence, I touched the old couple’s feet and they promptly blessed me. They were quite moved and told me who they were.

The lady was noted singer of the yore and her husband was a well known mridangam player. Before retiring about five years back, their combined experience of stage performances exceeded six decades.

That one revelation taught me a lot.

Taught me what being a true rasika means.