I breathed deep, and after a moments hesitation took the courage to ring the calling bell. The door opened and a pleasant lady greeted me "Swagatham! banni banni..." It was my first day at the rehearsal.
Weighing heavily on my mind for quite sometime now, this concert held more excitement than the regular ones, and being a guest singer for a Kannada concert was going to be very interesting (for you unfamiliar folks out there, Kannada is one of the most musically oriented of the South Indian languages). I could manage a brief few words here & there but there it ended as quickly it started, ususally. It still really is an enigma why they called me but well....
As I stepped into the house, she moved aside, and I suddenly saw a mini industrial fair (akin to ones in India) happening inside those seemingly calm doors. I saw a familiar face in the crowd of people as he came forward and greeted me. Let's call him Mr.Nicey, N for short. N introduced me to the pleasant lady who had banni banni-ed me inside. She had a beautiful smile I noticed, and then she started talking rapidly in Kannada. I stared. Now, do I tell her that I didn't speak the language but was fortunate enough to understand decently enough or do I wait for the opportune moment? I was thoroughly confused. Luckily for me, N whisked me away soon enough, before I made a fool of myself. He thrusted a lunch plate in my hand and requested me to eat. I politely conceded to the request and nibbled on my food while I drank in the happenings around me.
N had emailed me a couple of months ago regarding the concert. I was overjoyed, and needless to say accepted it but only after much deliberation. He effused supreme confidence, regrettably more than me, and I relented ulitmately trusting his judgement. I wielded extra precautions while practising, since performing in totally unchartered territory wasn't an everyday affair. I searched the internet far & wide for the lyrics, compared and contrasted different versions I got, and meticulously prepared for the practice sessions.
I looked around and was relieved to see people re-assembling to their respective places. Took a brief moment to regain my otherwise sangfroid self. By the time everyone gathered, N announced that the guest singer was here, and was pointing at me. Now, that was totally unexpected and I scrambled to my feet sending a few smiles and hi's 360* through. I introduced myself as briefly as possible and got a few smiles in return, more so from the instrumentalists rather than resident singers!
Now, that wasn't abnormal behavior, I thought. Infact it was pretty common in artist circles as far as I knew. It was always 'survival of the fittest' and any potential replacement was looked on with utter contempt, atleast until well established. I could very well associate with that given that I had been part of fabulous music group for almost 4 years now, and knew the way peoples psyches played on them. It was these good natured peoples rightful turn now... and I was on their war path *sigh*
The practice went on great and the subsequent ones taught me a thing or two about group oneness, tolerance and different genre of people. I saw a bunch of talents in the new group and the D-day fast approached. I repeatedly corrected my pronounciation taking tips from any of them who were willing to help me, which was almost everyone. My fellow singers warmed up to me as I to them. I started feeling less conspicuous, and more at ease with each passing session.
I had been fidgety all morning. I had the vaguest of doubts that I was coming down with throat pain or something, dangerously bordering on Hypochondriasis!! I pulled myself together, and waited.
My song was announced and I came on stage amidst claps. I was fortunate enough to have N as my co-singer in both songs of mine. So I didn't foresee any compatibility issues, a key factor to pulling off any song on stage. As I was correcting the surthi (AKA scale or pitch) in my head, I suddenly heard the orchestra opening the song realising that the female humming followed seconds later. Totally taken aback, I opened my mouth and a strange sound enveloped my own ears. I panicked. Whose voice was this?? I waited until the first bit was over and then took a moment of respite while I looked around. I saw a couple of people smile at me from the first row, and I relaxed visibly for the first time. My part arrived not too later and I sang. The program ended, and it was officially declared a success. I was pleased.
I was totally drained. Having 2 programs simultaneously and practising long hours had been totally zonking me out. My body yearned for a good nights sleep. I held on...
As I came down the steps, I momentarily halted to talk to an elderly couple. They started talking in Kannada and effectively stated that I sang very well. I understood the gist of it and thanked them. As they continued belting out sentences in Kannada, I sorely realised that I had just passed up an oppurtunity to let them know my ignorance of the language. I was thoroughly caught between saying "I am sorry, but I don't speak Kannada" or dillydally, smile and respond in the universal language. I gulped! I debated, and said finally "Oh! that's really sweet of you to complement me, but I really am not a Kannadiga." Silence. Their face registered surprise more than shock or insult, and I was earnestly grateful for that. After assuring them (almost coming short of showing my school records indicating my IInd language!!), I saw a little bit of my convincing netting some effect. They applauded me on my diction and thought I really should take singing Kannada songs way more seriously. I nodded implying my intentions to definitely give it a thought. We parted ways on a good note. They went up the stairs while I down (ironic uhn??)
I smiled all the way home reflecting on my dilemma in voicing out my preference of being 'known' as a Tamilian, who incidentally enjoyed singing in different languages. I also breifly pondered if it had made a difference, or mattered when I had pointed that out a few times in the past. Well, I wouldn't know this until a month later during one of my regular programs, this time around in a language that I knew and breathed.
I was still tasting the sweet remains of success when I heard a voice call out my name as I walked out of the green room. I turned and was surprised to be greeted with a "Swagatham". I smiled. Standing there was the elderly couple from the Kannada program. They commented on how good the program was, and expressed their immense gratification at having enjoyed it inspite of not being a Tamilian. I thanked them for their support and exchanged a few more words before I departed, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment.
I went dead to the world at 10 that night, although I do vaguely remember humming the Kannada numbers I had just belted out.
Interestingly, it wasn't until later that it struck me that the couple had conveyed everything to me in Kannada, yet again. Apparently, it didn't seem to matter to them, probably didn't for me either...
Weighing heavily on my mind for quite sometime now, this concert held more excitement than the regular ones, and being a guest singer for a Kannada concert was going to be very interesting (for you unfamiliar folks out there, Kannada is one of the most musically oriented of the South Indian languages). I could manage a brief few words here & there but there it ended as quickly it started, ususally. It still really is an enigma why they called me but well....
As I stepped into the house, she moved aside, and I suddenly saw a mini industrial fair (akin to ones in India) happening inside those seemingly calm doors. I saw a familiar face in the crowd of people as he came forward and greeted me. Let's call him Mr.Nicey, N for short. N introduced me to the pleasant lady who had banni banni-ed me inside. She had a beautiful smile I noticed, and then she started talking rapidly in Kannada. I stared. Now, do I tell her that I didn't speak the language but was fortunate enough to understand decently enough or do I wait for the opportune moment? I was thoroughly confused. Luckily for me, N whisked me away soon enough, before I made a fool of myself. He thrusted a lunch plate in my hand and requested me to eat. I politely conceded to the request and nibbled on my food while I drank in the happenings around me.
N had emailed me a couple of months ago regarding the concert. I was overjoyed, and needless to say accepted it but only after much deliberation. He effused supreme confidence, regrettably more than me, and I relented ulitmately trusting his judgement. I wielded extra precautions while practising, since performing in totally unchartered territory wasn't an everyday affair. I searched the internet far & wide for the lyrics, compared and contrasted different versions I got, and meticulously prepared for the practice sessions.
I looked around and was relieved to see people re-assembling to their respective places. Took a brief moment to regain my otherwise sangfroid self. By the time everyone gathered, N announced that the guest singer was here, and was pointing at me. Now, that was totally unexpected and I scrambled to my feet sending a few smiles and hi's 360* through. I introduced myself as briefly as possible and got a few smiles in return, more so from the instrumentalists rather than resident singers!
Now, that wasn't abnormal behavior, I thought. Infact it was pretty common in artist circles as far as I knew. It was always 'survival of the fittest' and any potential replacement was looked on with utter contempt, atleast until well established. I could very well associate with that given that I had been part of fabulous music group for almost 4 years now, and knew the way peoples psyches played on them. It was these good natured peoples rightful turn now... and I was on their war path *sigh*
The practice went on great and the subsequent ones taught me a thing or two about group oneness, tolerance and different genre of people. I saw a bunch of talents in the new group and the D-day fast approached. I repeatedly corrected my pronounciation taking tips from any of them who were willing to help me, which was almost everyone. My fellow singers warmed up to me as I to them. I started feeling less conspicuous, and more at ease with each passing session.
I had been fidgety all morning. I had the vaguest of doubts that I was coming down with throat pain or something, dangerously bordering on Hypochondriasis!! I pulled myself together, and waited.
My song was announced and I came on stage amidst claps. I was fortunate enough to have N as my co-singer in both songs of mine. So I didn't foresee any compatibility issues, a key factor to pulling off any song on stage. As I was correcting the surthi (AKA scale or pitch) in my head, I suddenly heard the orchestra opening the song realising that the female humming followed seconds later. Totally taken aback, I opened my mouth and a strange sound enveloped my own ears. I panicked. Whose voice was this?? I waited until the first bit was over and then took a moment of respite while I looked around. I saw a couple of people smile at me from the first row, and I relaxed visibly for the first time. My part arrived not too later and I sang. The program ended, and it was officially declared a success. I was pleased.
I was totally drained. Having 2 programs simultaneously and practising long hours had been totally zonking me out. My body yearned for a good nights sleep. I held on...
As I came down the steps, I momentarily halted to talk to an elderly couple. They started talking in Kannada and effectively stated that I sang very well. I understood the gist of it and thanked them. As they continued belting out sentences in Kannada, I sorely realised that I had just passed up an oppurtunity to let them know my ignorance of the language. I was thoroughly caught between saying "I am sorry, but I don't speak Kannada" or dillydally, smile and respond in the universal language. I gulped! I debated, and said finally "Oh! that's really sweet of you to complement me, but I really am not a Kannadiga." Silence. Their face registered surprise more than shock or insult, and I was earnestly grateful for that. After assuring them (almost coming short of showing my school records indicating my IInd language!!), I saw a little bit of my convincing netting some effect. They applauded me on my diction and thought I really should take singing Kannada songs way more seriously. I nodded implying my intentions to definitely give it a thought. We parted ways on a good note. They went up the stairs while I down (ironic uhn??)
I smiled all the way home reflecting on my dilemma in voicing out my preference of being 'known' as a Tamilian, who incidentally enjoyed singing in different languages. I also breifly pondered if it had made a difference, or mattered when I had pointed that out a few times in the past. Well, I wouldn't know this until a month later during one of my regular programs, this time around in a language that I knew and breathed.
I was still tasting the sweet remains of success when I heard a voice call out my name as I walked out of the green room. I turned and was surprised to be greeted with a "Swagatham". I smiled. Standing there was the elderly couple from the Kannada program. They commented on how good the program was, and expressed their immense gratification at having enjoyed it inspite of not being a Tamilian. I thanked them for their support and exchanged a few more words before I departed, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment.
I went dead to the world at 10 that night, although I do vaguely remember humming the Kannada numbers I had just belted out.
Interestingly, it wasn't until later that it struck me that the couple had conveyed everything to me in Kannada, yet again. Apparently, it didn't seem to matter to them, probably didn't for me either...
3 comments:
Please start audioblogging, so that every one of us can listen to you. Thanks.
Thnx a ton Jo.
I heard your songs-- you are an amazing singer!
Good luck...
Diction part/impressed- thank U, thank U *bows*
Audioblogging- seriously considering it *grin*
Amount of pressure mounting on me- *jitters*
Revamping of my website made me chuck many of those which I had hosted then. Those songs were almost 6 years old. Think can do a better job now (-; I shall get cracking on it now...
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