Ordinary Voice

One category of people that infuriate me, beyond words can adequately express, are the Singers: those blessed with a good voice. Ask them to sing a line or two for you & they will come up with a 100 excuses why they CAN’T do it. Which song? Where’s the music? Do you have songs of so & so? Oh Hindi songs – naah, do you have something in English? I forgot the lines! I’ve sore throat! No, not here! Or they just plain beseech you, “Please some other day”. 

Then these very same people don’t hesitate to criticize others. They correct the unfortunate ones like me, born without a velvet voice or worse, a hoarse voice, at the very first opportunity they get. So far, I have let it slide. But I am sure the next time around I am going to give these maestros of music a piece of my mind. Boss, seriously, music is meant for the soul. If you are so particular about the technical aspects, why don't you sing it yourself, right here, right now? Better still, be a participant in one of those countless talent shows. No, you wouldn't do that because you really aren't that great or deep. True knowledge makes a person humble and tolerant. The ones that criticize ordinary or regular people are the ones who are what is called empty vessels. 

Dancers need music, physical space to dance, to perform. painters need canvas, brush to paint. What do singers need? Just a mouth. Open it and sing, for God's sake. Especially when you have all these people all around you, clapping and thumping and goading you to sing. Go for it. 
 
This memsahib I mentioned in “Love to hate you” is a trained singer; her forte – devotional songs. No, I’ve never had the great fortune of listening to her renditions. She has never sung in front of me. I came to know she sings “wonderfully” from her husband who proudly proclaimed one day that during a family gathering she enthralled everyone. And as some devotional singers go, they tend to be a vain lot. In Kannada, we say, “yane devara thundaa?” Translated it means, “Do you think you are God’s single piece creation?”

I’ve an ordinary voice. Okay that was a hyperbole. The truth is I’ve a HORRIBLE voice. I’ve actually heard my own voice played back to me & asked, “Shit! Whose atrocious voice is this?” Yup, it’s that bad! But in my defense, I always say I respond to music, any music, as one ideally should – to its ‘bhaav’ or emotion & merrily sing along or shed a silent tear, as the case may be. Whether it’s the stereo in the car or the music system in the house or the FM on a mobile handset, I sway to the beats of a song I love. And yes, open my croaky throat & sing along quite loudly, oblivious to the surroundings or rather in spite of it. It’s all in the moment. I’m so completely caught up in the melody, the mood the song has evoked that it doesn’t matter who I’m with or where. The song & what it means is all that matters. Connoisseur of art: the one truly capable of surrendering to the pulsating effect music has on my heart, enjoying it unabashedly.

I know my looks can't crack a mirror. My voice certainly can! I won't let my lack of knowledge of music limit my enjoyment of it. I am unaware of the genres/ragas/taalas/musical notes & other technicalities of a song. But I have shed copious tears after listening to some songs at certain occasions in some places simply because it has touched my very soul. There have been times when I’ve been driving to some place & while listening to certain music have caught myself with tears streaming down my eyes. Just like that! I’ve smiled to some & danced to some. I’ve relived experiences of pain, separation, loneliness, loss, love, joy, fulfillment, & longing. Some songs take you with them & I believe you must let them. Music is felt & experienced & understood by those that have lived their lives, those that have won some, lost some.

So when my singer friends ridicule me or stop me saying, “Hey, that was a wrong note. It should be in high pitch in the second line” or “No, that line is not like that. You missed the third word in the fifth line” – it saddens me first, because they broke my spell & angers me next because they know not music is divine & divinity is not to be constrained.

Art Music and Me

I’ve nothing to do with art, music or creativity in any form. We’ve been strangers to each other for the past 3 decades! The only relationship we share is one of deep envy & great awe.

For instance, I can’t interpret paintings. I only see broad strokes, splash of colors & respond to their overall appeal. Whenever I’ve visited museums/galleries/exhibitions, I've walked past most exhibits, stopping briefly to exclaim “Ahh! Oh! So nice!” But, even a visually & artistically challenged person like me, has felt a strange connection. I invariably find myself standing still before a set of work that’s immediately arresting both for its simplicity & its grandeur. And when I peer closer to read the name of the painter, it’d unfailingly, yes unfailingly, turn out to be Raja Ravi Varma. It’s incredible. There is something about his work that touches my heart. The portraits are so “alive” even after 100 years. I can’t move away from them. I stand & soak in the experience. I admire him, although I hardly understand the technicalities of color/stroke/canvass/ lighting.

Rahet Fateh Ali Khan’s voice has a similar effect on me. Why do his renditions make me yearn for more? Is it true that the test for a singer is if he can touch your soul? “Dil toh bachcha hai jee” is magical. So are S.D Burman’s compositions. They take me to another world. And I sway to Michael Jackson’s tunes every single time I listen to them. Why do certain poems make me cry? Why does listening to Akon always puts me in a happy space? Why do certain lines of a book stay on? I’m still not over Wuthering Heights. Emily Bronte lived to write that one book & passed away soon after. Why does Jagjit Singh never fails to speak to my sad, weary, world-beaten soul? (I don’t listen to him when I’m happy!) Why is Shakespeare relevant even today?

Mesmerizing are the movies of Puttanna Kanagal. I can watch Ranganayaki, Edakallu Guddada Mele, & Manasa Sarovara without blinking my eyes. He dealt with the concept of the “fallen lady” almost 3 decades ago & showed the sexual frustration of a wife whose military husband is physically handicapped. Or the romance of a son with his biological mother! He was ahead of his times & it was truly the golden era of Kannada movies. These subjects were handled delicately, gracefully & intelligently. The other director who made an equally outstanding contribution to film-making is K. Balachander. I adore him.

It is said humans crave for kids because that is our only claim to immortality. It is a feeble attempt to beat death & to live on through them. I don’t think it works. It works only 1 or maximum 2 generations before or ahead of us. But artists, well, they live forever; only their bodies die, their soul lives on through the work they leave behind. It is hardly a death if a person continues to live amongst us, through his music, his voice, his captures or the written word. They don’t need progeny to transcend their existence. Does that explain their sometimes eccentric choices & aversion to set social standards? Their lives are fluid, unpredictable & beating to their own tunes. (I do know it can also be filled with great strife, pain & isolation). We mortals conform, obey, adhere because social acceptance is an intrinsic part of who we are, it defines us, it is our identity. Creative people have a purpose & meaning in life higher & beyond our understanding of the material world. Mera kya? Kamaana, khana, peena, udana, kat gayi zindagi yuhi dopal mein!

I humbly bow to all these geniuses.

I feel artists – sculptors, painters, musicians, dancers & directors – are the special children of God created with more love & passion than that He reserves for making lesser mortals like me. And in my next life, I want to be an artist. Because I want to LIVE ON.