Music Festival – Chennai, India

Now twenty minutes late for the performance, he sprinted for the entrance of the auditorium. I pursued and noticed his pace slow as we passed the canteen. As if entranced by the smell of spices that wafted from the kitchen, my father paused. Together, we absorbed the menu written on several big boards. The Madras Music Season just got better.

Referred to simply as the “Music Season”, the event takes place every December to January in the South Indian city of Chennai. The city buzzes with a festive spirit and the hum of kutcheris - Carnatic music performances. Carnatic music is one of the two main sub-genres of Indian classical music that evolved from ancient Hindu traditions. In contrast to the other sub-genre, Hindustani music, which developed in North India, the main emphasis in Carnatic music is on vocals and it is indigenous to the south.

The traditional role of the Music Season is twofold. It allows aficionados of Carnatic music to appreciate performances by esteemed artists. It also gives promising young talent the chance to display their skill. It is the season that artists work for all year - a time to premiere new themes and compositions. The performances are planned by sabhas, an organization that helps conduct concerts and bestows awards to artists in recognition of their talent. One of the most recognized sabahs is The Music Academy. Established is 1927, its purpose is to foster Carnatic music by encouraging its practice and the study of its theory. The Music Season has grown over the years. In 2004-2005, there were over 1200 performances by about 600 artists (about 700 vocal, 250 instrumental, 200 dance, 50 drama and others). It is larger than Woodstock.

Along with the celebration of Carnatic music, the Music Season is also a food festival. Artists exhibit their talent and Chennai’s finest vegetarian caterers drive to impress the appetites of music-goers. As much as concerts, the food served during this season receives attention and reviews by media and music lovers alike. They make sure the caterers are never left behind. Many sabhas attract more people to their canteens than their performance halls. Hari Vittal, one of the proprietors of Gnanambiga Caterers, has been catering at the event for 21 years. He conceded, “almost 75% of our customers do not attend the concerts and head straight to the canteen”. Most times, it is easier to find seats in the concert hall than in the canteens.

Canteens are a meeting point for bachelors to scope out their future bride. It is also a rating point for the bride's parents to decide the caterer for the wedding meal. For those not vested in future wedding plans, visiting the canteen works in tandem with attending a concert. For my parents, tasting the day’s special is just as important as seeing their favourite artist.

Now in their retirement age, my parents flock to India during the winter. The effortless lifestyle and warm weather prescribes their happiness. The genuine attraction however, remains to be the Music Season. To understand their fondness for event, I spent two weeks in Chennai last December.

The mornings inherited a ritual that remained unchanged during the festival. Sipping on milky chai, they would pore over music listings in The Hindu and then negotiate the day’s agenda. Equal consideration was given to artists and caterers. My father’s priority was seeing a prominent artist. My mother would remind him of the culinary prerogative, “we must lunch at the Mylapore canteen - I’ve heard their pongal (sweet rice) is superb.”

On most days, the Music Academy was the first stop. It is renowned for its unbeatable breakfast options. We ran into Srinivasan devouring idlis (a savoury, steamed cake made of fermented black lentils and rice). He is a rasika – his knowledge of Carnatic music allows him to appreciate the art to the fullest. He has been a regular at the Academy for the last five years. But he had not attended a single concert yet. “I don’t want to miss the breakfast. Problem is - I feel too sleepy afterward to sit through a concert, so I go home to rest!”

Made fresh and delivered hot, is a vast menu from light snacks to sophisticated meals. Utensils are gauche - one should eat with the fingers. Armed with a hungry appetite and a banana leaf, each day was a bombardment of exquisite flavours. Glistening dosas (fermented crepes doused in butter), piping-hot kuda milagai paruppu usili sevai (rice and lentils mixed with capsicum) and my personal favourite, pooris (unleavened flat bread) served with curried potatoes.

There was a group of elderly men who never ventured into the canteen. Afflicted with diabetes, blood-pressure, ulcers or obesity, they stood outside looking envious and guarded fiercely by their wives. On some days, the lady of the house would be absent due to illness or a shopping spree. It was a rare and god-given opportunity to enter the canteen. “No one known to my wife appears to be in the vicinity. I would like to taste, just this once, a small portion of that juicy kesar kulfi. I’ll take a higher potency insulin pill later tonight!”

While food is a constant distraction for rasikas, cell phones are a close second. Half a dozen ‘quiet’ conversations during a performance are not unusual. Mid-song walk-outs are common in the late evening when popular T.V sitcoms are on. Tani avartanam (instrumental solos) are notorious exodus points. Some even call it ‘toilet time’. In one of her recitals, Sudha Raghunathan plaintively appealed to the audience to not walk out.

Carnatic is one of the oldest systems of music in the world. Complex and scientific, it is based on a system of ragas (melodic scales) and talas (rhythmic cycles). Appreciation is based on understanding structured composition in the different ragas. One must devote a lifetime to its study to fully appreciate the beauty. As an amateur listener, sitting through the first kuthcheri was an intimidating experience. But after hours of performances, the unique instruments and vocal talents grew familiar. By the third concert, I discerned the creativity of the tani avartanam. Multiple percussion instruments engage in a rhythmic dialogue until the vocalist picks up the melody, finishing off the song. I would join the rasikas in applause, acknowledging the instrumental conversation.

A heavy lunch turned alertness into meditative consciousness. The plush chairs of an air-conditioned auditorium entertained our food coma. It was therapeutic to wake intermittently and drift in to the resonations, which lulled us to sleep. When awake, my father would whisper the meaning of the song and the accompanying raga. The music would come to life in these moments; my father’s commentary accompanied by a Carnatic composition.

The Music Season is a rare collaboration of cuisine, art, and culture. Absorb ancient melodies in a hall full of rasikas and finish in a canteen with dripping banana leaves. To enjoy a raga sung by The Bombay Sisters and then relish in a lip-smacking jilebi - this is Music Season my parents keeping coming back for.