Laya Gana Madhura Lehari

I can’t remember the last time I sat through a concert, listening to music that gave me goose bumps.

On Thursday, I got an invitation to “Malhaar” , an event organized by ICCR at Kamani Auditorium. It was the promise of a flute recital that drew me there but the programme started with a percussion ensemble by T R Dhandapany.

I had never heard of TRD, so I was grateful for the brief introduction on his concept of “Laya Gana Madhura Lehari". A golden-yellow curtain then floated up to reveal three podiums on the stage. Set against the dark curtains, each of 12 musicians looked like gems in a Jewellery showcase. At the centre were the Mridamgams played by the maestro with his son D. Karthiknarayan. On the flanks were the artists handling Tablas, Ghatam, Phakawaj, Dholak, Kanjira, Morsing, and the Violin. All were dressed in whites except for the vocalist who was in bright purple.

Drums always surprise me. Once the rhythm gets going I find it very difficult to believe that such music is coming from mere mortals. I close my eyes and see an angry ocean and waves crashing wildly on rocky cliffs, tossing ships around like matchsticks; armies rushing headlong into battle; a nuclear explosion in time-lapse…and I open my eyes to see people I would not recognize on the streets. Unremarkable, slouchy, portly folks with glum faces that reveal no trace of the talent they hide within.

This performance was slightly different. Whenever the artists played in single or in pairs, the others would mark the rhythm with hands and fingers that played out a dance of their own, marking the talas. Eyes would sparkle and big grins would welcome every innovation or difficult patch. Every now and then a pair of dancers would float in for some Bharatanatyam and Kathak. I found the plump Kathak dancer particularly unbearable for his silly grin and the way he tossed about his hands like a rag-doll.

Anyway, the music was great.