Musical blending of unlikely notes

I was listening to a show on NPR this afternoon about how Japan's average population is much older than that of Florida's (oldest state in the US) and the unique issues longevity has raised in that demo-graph. People in Japan apparently are extremely particular about not taking their family's help with senile issues out of sheer embarrassment. Some even go to the extent of saying that they'd rather commit suicide than take help from their kids for basic hygiene needs. Paro the therapeutic robot made its way into this hot market, to provide care for the elderly, and because it is not a human, the receivers can be guilt-free. Another, if I may say more elegant, solution proposed was to run old age care facility and a daycare center side by side. The idea was that it would be nearly impossible for the elderly to even think about their own shortcomings in the midst of the clamor and nonstop energy of the toddlers in diapers. What a genius idea!

A problem my own little family dealt with last week was with my obsession to learn Carnatic music. From the time I called the teacher on Sunday and set aside the appointment for assessment that Wednesday, they had to hear me sing, NON-STOP. And, unlike those ageing parents in Japan, I had absolutely no qualms about putting my family through the torture of my singing. I actually thought that I sing pretty darn well and that I was easily going to impress the teacher. I had visions of the teacher being mesmerized by my voice at the assessment and had dreams of the teacher and I practicing a Thyagaraja Pancharatna Keertana together ahead of a live duet performance. I had arrived at my final selection of songs to perform at the assessment: a devotional number* that I often sing to Raaga at bed time, a lyrically timeless classic* that my friend Preethy and I sing together almost every time we meet, and one from a favorite hero's popular movie*, 'cause you know- I had to sing a Nagarjuna song! I sang these while driving Raaga to school, while doing dishes, at Raaga's bed time. I even sang them in the fab, which I realized was a perfect place to practice- with the noise levels from the machines so high, nobody would hear my singing! I was confident, well prepared and excited. And I could not wait for Wednesday.

I showed up at the teacher's doorstep on Wednesday with a bag of fruits in my hands, list of songs in my head and an incredible amount of excitement in my heart. We sat down, she started asking me some questions to try and figure out what it was that I wanted to accomplish (starting at this age, she might have wondered). Then some more chitchatting. Was she never going to ask me to sing my three songs?! After what felt like an eternity, she asked me to repeat what she sings. Finally! I cleared my throat and braced myself to surprise her with my vocals to a Keertana or at the very least, a Varna. And then, to my horror, I heard the teacher say: Sa Pa Sa. I came to my senses, figured that's the start to any great Carnatic song and the real deal would come later. I repeated after her. Sa Pa Sa. She corrected my first Sa, the lower sound. I repeated. She corrected the Sa, again. I repeated, again. She said I needed to listen to her Sa better before repeating. I listened and repeated. She said I needed to ditch singing louder and prioritize matching her pitch. I took one final deep breath, swallowed my pride, which was almost non-existent by then, and repeated after her. Sa Pa Sa Pa Sa. Success. I took this moment to sing the first song from my list. Thanks to the pitch matching issues experienced for the prior 15min, my confidence dwindled, and made way for nervousness. I managed to finish the song, confessed that I knew exactly where I struggled to keep up with the pitch and told her that my lack of consistent pitch was precisely the reason why I was there. I felt an odd sense of relief after that confession. I forgot about the two other songs I had practiced for this day. I no longer was full of myself about my singing. I no longer day dreamed about my giving a concert in front of live audience. I just wanted to learn to sing and feel good about singing correctly. 

The next day, I started my regular classes. There were six other students there already by the time I arrived. They each had a book in front of them as well as a cut out of musical notes (Sa Re _ Ma Pa Da, Ga was missing). Teacher sang the pattern. We repeated. Teacher took the Sa cut-out and asked the rest to pass their cut-out to the next person. The one with pretend Ga pretended as if he just passed the Ga cut-out to the one previously holding Re, and the Re-girl pretended taking the Ga. These pretend transactions made the ex-Sa girl giggle. The girl now holding Ni cut-out let out a big yawn. At this point, the teacher asked everyone to stand up and do three jumping jacks. When I started to get up, teacher waved to me and said it is optional for adults. Did I mention that my six class-mates at music class all happen to be under the age of 7? It was easily the most satisfying Carnatic singing experience so far for me, one where I left my musical shortcomings behind and just stayed in the moment. Those Japanese elders sharing space with toddlers must feel exactly like me in my moment of musical bliss.

*My usual disclaimer holds. Click at your own risk. :)