Music Classes

"Pa' Sa Sa Sa' " the Tanpura sang, as I plucked its strings, quickly losing myself in their enchantment. Their sacred sounds filled the room... and I shut my eyes, unwilling to allow any other stimuli to impinge upon my senses...

Last Thursday I resumed my music lessons under Guruji, after a break of almost three months. Exams, vacations and job hunting had left me with no time for my weekly sessions with him and in the bustle of all those activities, I had almost forgotten how sorely I missed music class...I say "almost" because even in that prolonged sabatacle, there were moments when I would look wistfully at my tanpura and wonder when I would have the luxury of riyaaz again! Truly, there are times when absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder and nowhere was this more evident than in my last music class!

There is something magical about the way Guruji tunes a tanpura. I've watched him do it a hundred times and I've developed a general idea about the technique, but the sheer perfection of the sound that he can create within three to four minutes is something I have yet to achieve. Listening to that sound after so many days, I understood, for the first time, what Smt. Kishori Amonkar meant when she once remarked that there are times when even she is hesitant to let her own voice merge with the tanpura's notes. Nevertheless, I was hardly about to sit quietly while Guruji sat opposite me with his hands poised over the tabla set, waiting patiently for me to start singing!

With relish, therefore, I started Raag Bhimpalas, the late afternoon melody that I'm learning at present. A brief pakad (short introductory passage of notes, sung in aakaar) later, I sang the sthayi (first stanza) of Sadaarang's famous compostition "Ja ja re apne mandirawa..." and Guruji struck the sam (first beat) of the teentaal (a 16 beat rhythm cycle), just as I emphasised the shuddha madhyam (natural fourth)...

It is difficult for me to explain the thrill of such music classes. Guruji sits before me, playing the tabla as I sing the Khayal. While I leave the lyrics to pursue the aaalap, he remains in the steady, routine pattern of beats; and when I return to the lyrics he bursts into small but brilliant teentaal-based improvisations, sometimes even bringing in cross rhythms, each of which ends just when I reach the sam. At that very point, when rhythm and melody achieve a confluence, the divine power of music is most evident. Performer and listener alike, lose track of time, everything seems brighter and the air literally vibrates with energy. When the session is over, this sense of unworldly delight remains and you can literally feel the roots of your hair tingling with it!

I've seen this look on the faces of musicians an audiences many a time, regardless of the genre of music or of my liking for it; but experiencing it, even as an amateur musician is something else... Nothing, nothing is comparable to the joy of being an active participant in the creation of music. :)

God Bless!