… keeping cool in the gurukulam
The first week and a half at TVG’s school flow by gently, or so it seems. TVG, and his daughter Acca are generally not around. I practice ragas for 3-4 hours in the morning. There is not a lot else to do. The girls sit around, watching movie channel on the idiot box, and sing along to film tunes. They’re quite good at that but it seems to be there only musical activity. And occaisionally TVG pops in for a minute or two and comments on what I’m doing wrong. We have the occaisional lesson.
There are annoying limitations on the amount of saxophone practise I can do here, because of issues with neighbours (before 8pm, not between 1 and 4). It seems however that if I go down to the beach or the no mans land leading down to the beach, my practise doesn’t bother anyone at all. In fact till all hours of the night.
But there is, of course, a curfew. 11pm. I resist that. Do these people think I’m a school kid? I’m even wearing the school uniform… I notice prakesh comes to classes in regular western pants while I’m wrapped in a hanky feeling like a total dork. It seems like I’m supposed to report on my exact whereabouts. I am suitably vague on this. I take long walks in the afternoon when I can’t play.
Just when it seems I’m getting away with it, and being comfortable, bending the rules, the crunch comes. The yellow letter. I am told the rules in no uncertain terms. I It seems like everyone else in the school is watching my activities and reporting back to TVG and Acca. I have lost trust respect and solidarity with the girls, and with Salli. The snide housekeeper is still snide. And I’ve paid 10000 Rs to be treated like this. Salli bends the rules. The girls bend the rules. I bend the rules, and everyone dobs. I am starting to feel like the westerner who is paying the bills rather than a ‘member of the family’. But I keep my cool and practise every morning, and go down to the beach in the evening to belt out blues. I feel that’s helping.
There is at least a partial solution to the issues of pitch and saxophones. Prakesh has a wind synthesiser which when played through my laptop gives a reasonable simulation of a saxohone in the same pitch as a soprano. It doesn’t feel right, but it helps with learning and fingering.
The beachside practise is turning into more of a busking trip … but I’m at least practising both styles of music. And I’m meeting lots of folk on the way. Indian’s think the idea of a western busker so intruiging that they can’t help but stop and look. I feel like more of a tourist attraction … this is starting to get annoying. Perhaps I should hang a sign in front of my sax case. ‘Protectected Foreign Busking Monument. Foreigners 2Rs/Indians 100Rs.’ And I can’t follow up any of the social connections. Strangers are a no go in the school, and visiting people ruins the tight schedule.
Factoring transport in, it is impossible to get anywhere in Chennai and stay at the Gurukulam. Most regular concerts are on the other side of town. Adyar, the suburb that surrounds B.Nagar is on the edge of town (and doesn’t have a bicycle rental shop!).
Two weeks in, and Stephan arrives. Now the room and lockable cupboard that I have here is split in two. Stephan is a nice enough guy, but we have very dissimilar musical perspectives. I can’t quite figure where he comes from … he has come to India to study Indian saxophone without having ever heard it. Wierd. He is more self taught, I think, and is playing tenor. A good strong sound, some great licks, but sloppy technique. The same issues with pitch and instruments. I think TVG gives him a fair bit of attention at first, till he realises that being a european musician doesn’t mean he has any more Rs to spend.
We are encouraged to join the group singing classes on the weekend, but while they’re nice, they’re not much use. It is not in the instrumental pitch, and we aren’t really given much time on particular pieces, or detailed swaras. It would mean a lot of difficult transcription. Most in the class know the pieces well … it’s their cultural heritage. I’ve got some good recordings of the classes, and may put the hard yards in on transcription eventually.
We have a shared class later in the week and it is a bit of a decider for me. We cover a swarajati (basic rhythmic composition), the Bilahari one (I don’t think it’s the prettiest), and I’m the only person in the room with a copy of it. TVG doesn’t remember it. Nor does Salli. I give them a look at my chart, and we launch on. Prakesh puts the gamaka where I would have put it … and I actually remember a fair bit of the melody anyway (Narmatha didn’t stress the Swarajathi, I think she found them a bit drab too). Well at least it’s something to practise, I’m getting sick of just scales.
I’m getting a bit pissed at the sieur/guruji thing. If I’d thrown myself face down to the grond in front of any saxophone teacher I’d had … Pete Harper would have laughed till I came to my senses, Mark Simmons would have poked me in the ribs to see if I was ok, Leo Dale might have made a joke about ‘a guru loose in the back paddock’, and most of the others would presume I was having a psychotic episode, calling for police and/or ambulance. TVG is assuming spiritual airs and expecting his students to fall (face forward!) in line (being Indian they do. duh!) … to an extent that crosses a line for me and makes me cringe. I haven’t seen anything like this with Kadri or other musicians I’ve met … they are down to earth.
I decide to call Kadri. I need a bit of a different focus. He’s in Mangalore, wondering whether I’ll make it to the wedding. I sleep on it, then am filled with excitement in the morning. If I can book a train, I’ll go. Last seats on the Mangalore Mail. I say goodbye to Stephan. We are both in agreement re: TVG and his school, but he has payed for a few extra weeks, and has a good lead on an appartment and a different teacher.
So long gurukum. This roo is loose!!!
