I have always maintained that music and nature are inextricably linked. In an earlier piece, I had shared my thoughts on the same. Nature has constantly enchanted and fascinated me. In the hills of Shillong where I was recently, I saw a young Khasi woman with a baby comfortably strapped on her back, humming a folk tune, as she climbed her path up. Mother and baby were happy in their melody.
In another village home, a man was attending to his daily chores — tending to the goats, doing the dishes and other mundane jobs with a chirpy song of his land. He seemed so contented with himself and his song reflected his feelings.
My meeting with Dr Vijay Nahata re-affirmed the fact that music strikes a chord for unknown reasons. With no formal training in either music or dance, Dr Nahata feels propelled towards the sound of notes and rhythm. With his little music box that plays him hours of classical and other forms of music, the gynecologist opens up his heart to this art. He is now experimenting with the musicality of water. The sounds produced when feet tap on water open up an exciting world of rhythm, and has a therapeutic effect he mentioned. Between the doctor, the peasant and myself, I saw the evident commonality — music stirring up the unknown within and lending buoyancy to life.
I was going through the interesting contents of the magazine of St. Edmund’s College in Shillong. One article caught my eye. A young student interested in classical music, bemoaned the lack of interest and the indifference towards classical genres by her fellow students. She particularly drew attention to the fact that practicing classical forms was a reason for mockery by others. When my daughter was little, she was indeed in the “outer circle” of her friends in the building, because she didn’t dance to film songs. In many situations, one still hears demeaning descriptions of classical music.
When I was in school, children were encouraged to present their talents and although my memories of this process was that of an undemocratic one, we still witnessed Kathak and Hindustani music as children during annual functions. Today, it’s the tinsel town shake that holds sway in schools. Five-year-olds are adept at it. A little child I know was encouraged to sing whatever she wished at a Republic day function recently. She told me she sang My name is Sheela. Maybe in years to come she will sing some of the Carnatic that she learns?
Perhaps initiation lessons or exposure to classical music and dance at school, or integrating it in the curriculum, would give it the backbone support. The young chief minister of Meghalaya seemed inclined towards such moves. He seemed to have placed art in the centerfold of human development, and confessed to me that he was revitalising the same in his state. Political will is no doubt necessary.
If I suggest incorporating music and dance in our school curriculum, I also understand that it is a two-edged sword. If not carefully handled it could work either ways. What if there was an insensitive teacher who did not know how to transmit the joys of music? The student’s journey would then most likely end up like my agenda with drawing and painting Nupur, the drawing teacher in school, would sit at her chair and sleep, making us kids draw rainy days, mountains and such other topics that she ordered out of her creative mind. She drew circles in our books to denote the different elements of the tableau, which she decided should be there. After drawing endless circles in many books, she would go back to sleep. Over the years, all I remember of her is her laziness and her crisp starched Bengal cotton sarees. And of course her passion for teaching. I never got far with my drawing and painting. But I cherish those music lessons in school. There was a teacher or a nun always who opened up the piano and would start playing. The magic would start then. I loved the serenity of those classes and was mesmerized by the majestic well polished piano with its ivory and black keys. We would sing along with lovely songs like Mocking Bird Hill and Give Me Oil in My Lamp. I always looked forward to these music classes where no one slept and everyone was at work.

Dr Vasumathi Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. She can be contacted on vasu@vasumathi.net