An ode to music
Sometimes I drift off into imaginary worlds. While I inhabit those, I breathe the air of books and drink the elixir of music. My brain might be one of an engineer, but my soul is that of an artist. I am a connoisseur of words, a patron of music. These are my first loves, and they will remain my last ones too. But weirdly enough, the two never converge - when I try to write about music, I fall short of words. I am loathe to give up though, and in this post I shall try to express a handful of the most powerful musical experiences in my life. (My previous post on music- The colors of music)
The very beginning. As a toddler, I used to be very restless. I had a mercurial temper, and my parents would struggle to calm me down. They'd joke about my name : We named you serenity, but the opposite would be more appropriate. One time when I was angry, my mom turned on the tape recorder, and the first wave of quintessential Carnatic music hit me. My parents say that it tamed me. That I sat there mesmerized, without a sound. I do not have an exact recall of what happened, but this was perhaps the beginning of my tryst with music.
One and a half decades from then. You find me in pre-university. I was at the annual day, waiting backstage to give a speech. I had no interest in whatever programs were going on, and I waited impatiently for my turn. And then, I heard the first strains of a flute. A melody that captivated me and catapulted me into a different universe. My hair stood on end, and I couldn't believe the perfection and the beauty of that music. I couldn't believe that a seventeen year old could play like that. It felt divine. Transcendental. I could not stop thinking about it. Today, almost a decade later, the incident is still fresh in my mind, and I cannot emphasize enough the impact it had on me that day. His name is Parth Chandiramani, and I still find divinity in his music (A mellifluous sample: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-arMuq4HXA)
Five years later. I was in the final year of my masters. My college was hosting a 12 hour non-stop musical concert(6pm to 6am), and I decided to volunteer. My original slot was two hours, but several people did not turn up, and I continued to stand at the door, guiding people to seating etc. I stood for 10 continuous hours, and by 4am the crowd dwindled down quite a bit. I finally had a place to sit, and that I did. Seshampatti Sivalingam was playing the Nadaswaram, and towards the end he choose a particularly melancholy composition, and I felt the music wash over me, stunning me with its potent sorrow. I sat there with tears streaming down my eyes, without the first clue of what I was feeling sad about. I wept for an entire ten minutes, sobs wracking my entire body. When he finished, I felt as if I were emerging from a deep trance.
Last year. Agam is one of my absolute favorite bands, and Harish Sivaramakrishnan's voice is just stunning. I adore most of Agam's songs, and my favorites among favorites are Rangapura Vihara, Manavyalakinchara, Malhar Jam and Boat Song. I was listening to their rendition of Rangapura Vihara, and I recall searching for a video of a live performance of the song. (Artists usually have more room for improvisation and creativity in concerts than albums, and hence I always do this.) Harish's voice has always given me goosebumps, but this moment stood out at an altogether different level for me. His face had a look of enlightenment, and his voice echoed it. In my mind's eye, he always comes across this way, arms stretched out to the sky, eyes blazing, a God on earth(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oESni03J8h8).
I went to an Agam concert later in the year, and I got to see the magic happen up close. It was one of the best experiences of my life, one I wouldn't trade for anything. :)
A month ago.
Music is what gives me a leash on my temper. It is what softens the rough edges of me, and makes me a better human being. It makes me dream, it makes me imagine, it makes me happier. It makes me long for the perfection I will never achieve, it frustrates me and then gives me hope to keep on trying. Music is the companion to my solitude, the solace to my wounds, the muse to my writing. Music is not part of my life, it is my life.
The very beginning. As a toddler, I used to be very restless. I had a mercurial temper, and my parents would struggle to calm me down. They'd joke about my name : We named you serenity, but the opposite would be more appropriate. One time when I was angry, my mom turned on the tape recorder, and the first wave of quintessential Carnatic music hit me. My parents say that it tamed me. That I sat there mesmerized, without a sound. I do not have an exact recall of what happened, but this was perhaps the beginning of my tryst with music.
One and a half decades from then. You find me in pre-university. I was at the annual day, waiting backstage to give a speech. I had no interest in whatever programs were going on, and I waited impatiently for my turn. And then, I heard the first strains of a flute. A melody that captivated me and catapulted me into a different universe. My hair stood on end, and I couldn't believe the perfection and the beauty of that music. I couldn't believe that a seventeen year old could play like that. It felt divine. Transcendental. I could not stop thinking about it. Today, almost a decade later, the incident is still fresh in my mind, and I cannot emphasize enough the impact it had on me that day. His name is Parth Chandiramani, and I still find divinity in his music (A mellifluous sample: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-arMuq4HXA)
Five years later. I was in the final year of my masters. My college was hosting a 12 hour non-stop musical concert(6pm to 6am), and I decided to volunteer. My original slot was two hours, but several people did not turn up, and I continued to stand at the door, guiding people to seating etc. I stood for 10 continuous hours, and by 4am the crowd dwindled down quite a bit. I finally had a place to sit, and that I did. Seshampatti Sivalingam was playing the Nadaswaram, and towards the end he choose a particularly melancholy composition, and I felt the music wash over me, stunning me with its potent sorrow. I sat there with tears streaming down my eyes, without the first clue of what I was feeling sad about. I wept for an entire ten minutes, sobs wracking my entire body. When he finished, I felt as if I were emerging from a deep trance.
Last year. Agam is one of my absolute favorite bands, and Harish Sivaramakrishnan's voice is just stunning. I adore most of Agam's songs, and my favorites among favorites are Rangapura Vihara, Manavyalakinchara, Malhar Jam and Boat Song. I was listening to their rendition of Rangapura Vihara, and I recall searching for a video of a live performance of the song. (Artists usually have more room for improvisation and creativity in concerts than albums, and hence I always do this.) Harish's voice has always given me goosebumps, but this moment stood out at an altogether different level for me. His face had a look of enlightenment, and his voice echoed it. In my mind's eye, he always comes across this way, arms stretched out to the sky, eyes blazing, a God on earth(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oESni03J8h8).
I went to an Agam concert later in the year, and I got to see the magic happen up close. It was one of the best experiences of my life, one I wouldn't trade for anything. :)
A month ago.
"The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils"
I agree with the Bard, so music was always a necessary condition I had in mind for my life partner. I was thrilled when I found out I was marrying someone who could play several instruments. Therefore, when he asked me what I wanted for my birthday, the answer did not me take very long. Play the violin. As promised, the night of my birthday, he played for me. Song after song, anything I picked. I have never felt happier, and violin has never sounded sweeter to my ears. I sat there absorbing it all, knowing that this was my best birthday so far, one where my soul overflowed with the serenity that is the gift of good music.Music is what gives me a leash on my temper. It is what softens the rough edges of me, and makes me a better human being. It makes me dream, it makes me imagine, it makes me happier. It makes me long for the perfection I will never achieve, it frustrates me and then gives me hope to keep on trying. Music is the companion to my solitude, the solace to my wounds, the muse to my writing. Music is not part of my life, it is my life.
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