A universal language that binds all of us
Music on the radio while on the road, brings you some melodies that come to you whether you will it or not
I was walking past an office when a quotation stopped me. Leonard Bernstein’s compelling thoughts. “This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.” These words make so much sense in today’s world, tells me Cyndy, whose office bore this quote. Can one deny it ?
Music on the radio while on the road, brings you some melodies that come to you whether you will it or not. I reheard Strawberry Fields Forever, that I last heard more than 20 years back. It is a melodious, soft song that ushers in memories, nostalgia, longing. It made me think of Claude Monet’s lovely painting The Poppy Fields and his haystack series. It reminded me of quiet walks in the woods, of birds and songs, of the many country side landscapes I have known and deeply appreciate. Of sandy roads, cows loitering without a care, in the erstwhile Madras I was familiar with in my childhood. The song also brought to mind a child’s book on berry picking that ran like a song. I used to sing it for my daughter when she was little. It was a lilting happy rhythm about picking different berries along with his family in the woods and the dales written by an author for whom these were cherished memories from childhood. One song, some many thoughts ! Strawberry Fields Forever got me and my driver talking about the Beatles, about India, about music and all else. On another pleasant evening, I run into Bill who is enjoying his new retired life travelling cross country in the USA, learning and playing music amongst other things. He handed me an article he had published on the intercultural approach and music.
True, what can be more intercultural than music ? It goes beyond language, beyond words, builds bridges and communicates in its own far- reaching, profound way. He shared his flute and his fife with me, two of his treasured instruments.
The black ebony wood still shone though a bit worn by age. It had surely seen much music blowing through its pipe. We spoke on music, the tuba, on Indian music and all music. We exchanged notes like as if we had been speaking on this for decades.
Another music- driven conversation with a longlost musician friend made me revisit Maurice Delage and his forlornly neglected composition, the beautiful Ragamalika that I had performed collaboratively two years ago in Florida.
There is an inexplicable generosity in Indian music. Despite its complexity, its code- bound nature, its esoteric character and its inexplicable vastness, it easily crosses boundaries, makes friends and establishes connections, very simply. It is also very meditative — so reminded me, lest I forget, a die- hard fan of Indian music that I met in Montreal, who was trying to familiarise himself with Carnatic music, as and when his farming occupation gave him some respite.
In no conversation did we worry about the colour, the race, the religion, the country, of who wrote the music and who enjoyed it. Who says music doesn't bind? Lenny Bernstein's quote makes much sense in our divisive world.
As I reach into my bag for a pen, I feel the little music box that a friend gifted me. You turn the key and a gentle tune emanates as if by magic, keeping you company for a few seconds, till you decide to turn it once again, ushering in many good memories.
May the ambrosia of music lead one to supreme bliss as Tyagaraja sings in his Raga Sudha Rasa. At least, if not anything, it reminds us to be more human. Dr Vasumathi Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. She can be contacted on vasu@ vasumathi. net