The stage was dark and the spotlights on Melwyn de costa doing the guitar riffs, smoke slowly rising from the stage. He imagined himself with long hair, nimble fingers, husky voice and shoulder length hair, entertaining audiences (which comprised mostly of teenage lasses wearing nose and lip rings, going into orgasmic rapture). Unfortunately he was trapped in a government job and a real unsexy name...
Then one day he discovered the magical sound of a desi instrument called the mridungam. A majestic and heavenly sounding percussion box. The sound of which gave him goose flesh. He then went back and listened to the ragas that accompanied the mridungam. Then the vocals that went with the ragas. He was hooked. The songs were sorta hmm... devotional ....y'know.
The Missus was deeply worried. The atheist nut of a husband who fancied himself a guitarist in another life had taken to listening to devotional bhajans played loudly while sitting in the pot early morning.
I met Melwyn da costa one day and asked him what happened, all this makeover?
Yeah it's heavenly maan, he said.These numbers ought figure right up there with November rain and Nothing else matters by you know who. And the dudes and babes who sing this stuff turn up for concerts on time, don't break mridungams or the tampuras at the end of the concerts and are not overdosed on cocaine or other such stuff. Some of them are educated- no white trash or blacks from Harlem; having even got to the IITs and IIMs where yours truly failed to qualify!! One dude is even qualified in Computer Science from Wharton and he chucks his green card and does Kutcheri (concert) crawling in Chennai in the music season!!
In good old days, these numbers were sung by doddering dandies who go by three letter, (and unsexy) names like PSN, (PS Nararayanaswamy) GBN (G Balasubramanian) SSI (Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer) and such like. They came with ashes liberally smeared on foreheads and sang loudly with their disciples singing in the background. Yeah but times have changed. Nowadays fetchingly attractive middle aged babes come draped in silk saris and diamond jewelry. The guys appear in white mundus (dhotis). The ash content on their foreheads has considerably withered. The disciples don't sing anymore. They just sit behind and y'know just strum the Tampuras softly. These are like y'know one man (woman) shows where the credits are missing for the guys playing violin or the mridungam... I call it the individualization of Carnatic music. The American individualistic ethos seeping into the Indian classical arts. Then hmm there is this Brahminical thing, y'know. Most of these singers are born in devout, twice- born families. Well there are a few honourable exceptions- a few Malayalees- a coastal Christian and some others of uncertain ancestry..
Well the songs are mostly, in praise of the Lord, the embodiment of kindness and mercy. Some are entreaties to God, for ignoring the humble soul who is straining his vocal chords for several hours. Some songs are devoted to a precocious God kid who generally wreaked havoc wherever he went. The songs gravely admonishes all those who thrashed him and advises them to seek penance. There is no unrequited love, urban angst or drug induced hallucinations. They are mostly very simple six lines set to ragas which are ... maan so cool.
Well the Sriranjini is like morning madness. Marubalka, one hot number by one Tyagaraja of a bygone era (an old dude wearing no shirt and a sacred thread, hair tied behind the back in a bundle- Try to visualise him in jeans and a metallica T-shirt with a earring- well he'd be right out there in the 21st century y'know). These dudes believed in oral tradition. They embedded their names into the song to prevent copyright violations and piracy. A rather effective method in the 18th century, dontya agree ?There was no concept of intellectual property rights and such like so they had to insert their names in every song to tell the world that it belonged to them. They cared little for wealth and its' trappings and lived for the music., much like Jimi Hendrix.
And the hot numbers were all played with lotsa improvisation. The alphabets much like do re mi that go with the ragas. There was reethigowla, a sedate raga that flows like ocean waves. If a song is composed for movies in this raga, it instantly became a hit. There's Abheri, a wonderful rythm much like a Buffalo Soldier of a bygone era.
Melwyn da costa came up with this brilliant gem of an idea then. Well....dude, these numbers are basically in honour of the guy up there in the clouds. If there are virgins up there or soft music playin all the time, well one never knows, do ya?. But the songs y'know ...Well they are mostly six lines that ponder on the greatness of the guy up there and the humility with which we bow before Him.
You can compose a number for a Babu, say who works in a drab government office. Yeah some thing that sounds like this.
Got up in the morning, caught the local
went to office and cleared a lotta files (repeat 27 times - with alphabets that sound like do re me pa ga sa interspersed)
Got home, had dinner and went to sleep
so said Melwyn De Costa (repeated 13 times jus to make sure that no body pirates it or violate copy rights)
Now you sorta decide which tune you gonna sing it in. My favourite tunes are (apart from Sriranjni) Karaharapriya, Ananda Bhairavi, Kaapi and Manjari.
Well the Missus is sorta worried. She'd been visiting temples praying that this infatuation with celestial music ceases one day. She started hoping that Melwyn becomes his normal self. Then someone consoled her and said that the guy might end up in heaven by fluke. Probable scenario goes like this. Melwyn reaches Pearly gates and the gatekeeper looks at him dismissively and asks, what qualifies you to get here? Melwyn says, I listened to a lotta that stuff about that guy up there although I never met Him or believed in Him. I lived the frugal life, cared for my friends and family and worked my butt off for an uncaring government. I also did watch some pornography, thought a lotta evil thoughts, which I'd care not to recall. But I did no harm to no body.
In you go said the gatekeeper.
And that's how I stopped listening to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, said Melwyn.
