A reader very kindly pointed out that I didn't do justice to the Ghatam in my Pot belly and gun throat blog post. I joked it off as 'collateral damage' but it got me thinking. The truth is: carnatic music is how I came to discover the writer in me.
It was frustration that drove me into the warm arms of sa re ga ma pa dha ni sa. The dear Mylapore Maami was a kind soul and took me on as a student pronto. She had the widest smile and was frankly amused that I didn't know how to read and write Tamil despite being born in the cradle of Tamil culture - Madurai. At 30, I could manage to speak the language, but couldn't string a decent sentence without grammatical and gender errors. Mrs Maami would dictate the classic hymns because I couldn't write Tamil either. Phonetics helped me write what she would call out. She simply smiled every time I goofed up with the lyrics - delighted at my interest.
Sitting with little kids, even younger than my children were at that time, I learned many valuable lessons that have shaped my attitude. The experience humbled me - there is never a wrong age to learn, and one can learn from anyone, especially children.
Mrs Maami would show me off, telling them: "See this Anglo-Indian is interested in our music!" I would get those looks from the 'people' - I hated being on exhibition. But I suppose fair skin and brown hair is a let down, and rather impossible to come off as typical 'south Indian'. Sometimes, Mrs Maami would ask me to sing a Keerthanai for the visitors - oh, she was so proud she could train me to sing carnataka sangeetham!
I worked with a daily national newspaper at that time; I was in advertising, but Mrs Maami said: "Everybody in the newspaper company can write! You write this article about Shri Thiruchy - he is a famous musician; it is a blessing." Shri Thiruchy could not speak English and I, Tamil - we were ill-matched from the start. If not for my friend from 1994, I could never have managed the very first interview that got me a byline in two editions of the popular English daily. She was my interpreter, my stenographer, my translator, and my Tamil-to-English-to-Tamil dictionary! A good friend, she remains till date.
Took me days to get the copy in a narrative-style-like shape. It was 2004 - did not own a computer at that time, and had only worked with pre-designed templates on terminals. I sat behind my office table (counter number 1) with one-sided paper, a pencil and an eraser, and pieced together the bits of information I thought were interesting. Must have made a least twenty hand-written copies before I decided the article was presentable. Still wanted expert opinion, so a close friend introduced me to one of the editors of the newspaper I worked with - a serious-looking man, but one I respected very much, still do. I gave him my hand-written copy and he thrashed it to bits.
Never had I seen so many red-inked corrections on handwritten work - my school exam papers did not match-up. Not good enough for publication of course- that was clear. But what I appreciate most and am grateful for to this day, was that the editor sat me down and explained why he did what he did with my copy. I went back and reworked on it; submitted a type-written copy - that was the first time I used Microsoft Word at an internet cafe - to the Bureau Chief. He liked it. The article was published in two editions: Chennai and Trichy, without a single change.
I went back to learning to sing carnatic music. Mrs Mylapore Maami began to show off the article, not me. So grateful I was.
It was frustration that drove me into the warm arms of sa re ga ma pa dha ni sa. The dear Mylapore Maami was a kind soul and took me on as a student pronto. She had the widest smile and was frankly amused that I didn't know how to read and write Tamil despite being born in the cradle of Tamil culture - Madurai. At 30, I could manage to speak the language, but couldn't string a decent sentence without grammatical and gender errors. Mrs Maami would dictate the classic hymns because I couldn't write Tamil either. Phonetics helped me write what she would call out. She simply smiled every time I goofed up with the lyrics - delighted at my interest.
Sitting with little kids, even younger than my children were at that time, I learned many valuable lessons that have shaped my attitude. The experience humbled me - there is never a wrong age to learn, and one can learn from anyone, especially children.
Mrs Maami would show me off, telling them: "See this Anglo-Indian is interested in our music!" I would get those looks from the 'people' - I hated being on exhibition. But I suppose fair skin and brown hair is a let down, and rather impossible to come off as typical 'south Indian'. Sometimes, Mrs Maami would ask me to sing a Keerthanai for the visitors - oh, she was so proud she could train me to sing carnataka sangeetham!
I worked with a daily national newspaper at that time; I was in advertising, but Mrs Maami said: "Everybody in the newspaper company can write! You write this article about Shri Thiruchy - he is a famous musician; it is a blessing." Shri Thiruchy could not speak English and I, Tamil - we were ill-matched from the start. If not for my friend from 1994, I could never have managed the very first interview that got me a byline in two editions of the popular English daily. She was my interpreter, my stenographer, my translator, and my Tamil-to-English-to-Tamil dictionary! A good friend, she remains till date.
Took me days to get the copy in a narrative-style-like shape. It was 2004 - did not own a computer at that time, and had only worked with pre-designed templates on terminals. I sat behind my office table (counter number 1) with one-sided paper, a pencil and an eraser, and pieced together the bits of information I thought were interesting. Must have made a least twenty hand-written copies before I decided the article was presentable. Still wanted expert opinion, so a close friend introduced me to one of the editors of the newspaper I worked with - a serious-looking man, but one I respected very much, still do. I gave him my hand-written copy and he thrashed it to bits.
Never had I seen so many red-inked corrections on handwritten work - my school exam papers did not match-up. Not good enough for publication of course- that was clear. But what I appreciate most and am grateful for to this day, was that the editor sat me down and explained why he did what he did with my copy. I went back and reworked on it; submitted a type-written copy - that was the first time I used Microsoft Word at an internet cafe - to the Bureau Chief. He liked it. The article was published in two editions: Chennai and Trichy, without a single change.
I went back to learning to sing carnatic music. Mrs Mylapore Maami began to show off the article, not me. So grateful I was.
