Short ‘N’ Snappy

Burying Caesar, musically

”I ave come to bury Caesar, not praise him,” said Mark Antony if you recall one of those rare straightforward passages from The Bard. The Man from Madras Musings recalls those lines vividly, having had to write them down 100 times by way of an imposition when he, MMM, was a CCC – Cherubic Child of Calcutta – and had incurred the displeasure of an English tutor in school.

Those lines came swimming back to MMM’s mind when he, at considerable risk to posterior, sat in a Sabha seat watching a meeting in progress wherein a group of musicians had been assembled on stage to pay homage to a colleague whose anniversary of passing into eternity was being observed. MMM was keener on the concert that was to follow, as also were several members in the audience as was evident from the large turn-out. The full house, always a rarity at memorial meetings unless there is dinner or a concert to follow, evidently encouraged the speakers on stage to imagine that the audience had rolled up to listen to them. All of them without exception shot the time limit allotted to each and spoke in what can only be termed as ‘at length’.

That by itself would not have been so bad if they had restricted themselves to the nuggets from the life of the person being remembered or to facets of his art. This, however, was not the case and all the speakers converted the opportunity into a fulsome speech in praise of themselves and their art. This, of course, was done most cleverly – as though they were quoting the departed senior.

“He was most generous in his praise of other artistes,” began one. Ah, thought MMM, now there will be some interesting insights. But his hopes were all dashed for the speaker went on to state as to how the late lamented identified him, the speaker, as one of the best talents that Carnatic music has ever known. “He spoke to many sabha secretaries about me and told them that I was the best,” droned the speaker. “He also said that it was his ambition to perform in tandem with me as, according to him, I was near perfect even at a young age.” He then went on to narrate a rather long story about how a particular artiste was a terror to all accompanists, young and old. “Nobody wanted to accompany him. But when dear departed got to know of this, he immediately recommended my name. He then told me I was the only one who could prove equal to the demanding performer.”

While this rather long-winded panegyric to the self was in progress, others on stage were becoming restless. They had after all prepared identical speeches with what little information there was on the remembered artiste from the Internet. The longer the first speaker spoke, the less they would have to say. That gave a glimmer of hope to MMM and others in the audience about the concert beginning on time. But that was to be short-lived. All speakers took their time to speak, particularly as they were talking about their favourite subject – themselves.

To cap it all, there was a Mistress of Ceremonies who decided that she had to repeat in passive voice everything that a speaker had just said. MMM was of the view that this was her way of ensuring that the meanest intelligence in the audience could understand everything that was happening.

The upshot of all this was that the concert began half an hour behind schedule. MMM came away with the feeling that the best tribute a person could pay a departed artiste was by keeping silent. He dismissed as unworthy the other idea – placing a stick of dynamite under all those who gather to pay tribute.

Madras Week again!

Here we are – that time of the year once again when a dedicated band of volunteers and the same set of speakers go from venue to venue praising our city to the high heavens – making it a sceptered isle, this other Eden and what have you. The Chief as The Man from Madras Musings cannot help noticing generally becomes Good King Wenceslaus around this time – calling forth for flesh, wine and pine logs. When not cast in that role, he is like Old King Cole who being a merry old soul (and a merry old soul was he) calls for his pipes, drums and fiddlers three, exhorting everyone to come forth and celebrate our city.

MMM, while sharing in the general enthusiasm, is somewhat more tempered in his joie de Madras. He is particularly vary of armchair enthusiasts who call up at all odd hours with sentences that begin with ‘Why don’t you…’ and then proceed to list around 50,000 ideas that they think would make for a good celebration. To all of them MMM responds with a ‘Why don’t you…’, thereby suggesting that they should implement at least one of those ideas themselves. This normally brings the conversation to an abrupt end. Then there are the expansive thinkers who dream big – a shutting down of Mount Road for a procession, a declaration of a public holiday, a mass feeding or a flypast. All very noble, no doubt, except for the budget and its financing. These callers usually assume that the Chief and Madras Musings are sitting on moneys that the Reserve Bank of India may want and so the sky is the limit.

There is a third variety that assumes it has to seek the approval of an imagined committee in charge of Madras Week. MMM has heard the Chief hold forth for over ten years on how Madras Week is a purely voluntary effort and that everyone is free to celebrate it in his/her own way. But these people assume that they are better off seeking approvals and so you will have these callers who will tell you rather hesitantly that they have these ideas and so could we please approve of them? MMM now wonders if it would not be better for the Chief to have some rubber stamps made, one signifying approval and the other rejection.

The fourth variety needs handholding on a fairly impressive scale. This kind will pepper you with status reports every hour. While MMM would give this variety full marks for enthusiasm, he does feel that the score on ‘consideration for others’ would be rather low. How else can you explain callers that first gleefully announce that it looks as though they would have an idea for Madras Week and then an hour later call you with three ideas and ask whether all of these could be done? The next day it would be a call to tell you that they have found a venue (hip hip hurray!). By nightfall there will another call saying that a Chief Guest has been found as well (wunderbar!) The succeeding day it would be the snack menu and so the long fortnight wears on. It is no wonder that, by the end of Madras Week, MMM usually ends up with tinnitus – the infection that makes your ears imagine that a phone is continuously ringing in the vicinity.

There is of course the fifth variety that wants to participate but has always held back because it considers Madras Week to be ‘colonial’. The less said about this group, the better.

-MMM

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