Musical night

To keep the continuity of the festive activities we went to a concert on the third night. The concert concluded the Qutub Festival that Delhi Tourism held -for the youth of Delhi- The happening took place at the beautiful Qutub Complex welcoming the quest with a carpet-covered path framed with a snake made of Lego-style–red-bricks and shivering candles. The small scene demarked with long bamboo sticks looked like a tribal assembly spot and was prudently set so to have Qutub Minar right on the background. The low old walls and arched gates along with some tall bamboo constructions serving as lights to dilute the darkness of the night created a very atmospheric place for the sufi music that was to be played. That was my first time here when .I saw a band rather than an individual in the classical performance. When introduced they all came on the scene one by one – all in cream traditional costumes with golden embroidery – and got seated with their legs crossed. Two masters followed – the eldest was actually helped to get on the stage – so hard it was for him to walk. They all started tuning in their instruments and warming up their voices. Despite the presence of a very populous band on the stage the performance clearly looked as a one-man show, or that of the master. It was very interesting to observe how the issues of hierarchy came into play in the musical settings too. The master was clearly the oldest in the family and in the band, had more practice than anyone else and therefore was entitled the unquestionable respect. In the classical singing the songs often build up around just a few lines constantly repeated. So, the master was reciting those which were then picked up and sang by the junior master sitting on his right and then further supported and developed by the other instrument and voices. The master himself would rarely sing, yet he would enjoy the prerogative of the interaction with the audience. He would more often act as a narrator rather than a singer: he would recite the lines and elaborate on those, invariably causing the burst of applause, cries of approval and agreement. He would also take the liberty to interrupt others singing and recite some lines. Even when silent he would be gesticulating while listening to the song. He would tap on the shoulder of the younger singer sitting on his left when the latter sings a great piece. This all makes you realize that the master is the centre that the performance carries on around. Otherwise, putting aside anthropological observations of the social interaction, I can say that the music was beautiful. The sound was getting born from the initial dissonance coming out as a complete cacophony. The voices and the instruments then would merge at some point and the sound would get reinforced: it would grow and grow to find out its upper limit like a firework raising in the sky and then upon reaching it would open up to its most and would blossom in the ultimate celebration of its power.

So more unexpected after that was to face the second part of the concert which appeared to be popular music. Three great Bollywood voices were singing much and little known songs from various Hindi movies. And here one could get simply taken aback by the intergenerational dynamics in the audience. I would expect the younger part to endorse the major excitement, yet the older part of it gradually vanish from the scene so calmly blessed by the sufi sounds before and now with undue familiarity insulted by the Bollywood beats. Yet, the craziness appeared overarching: while young people filled in all the space between the stage and the seating and were enthusiastically waving their hands, dancing and clapping, the older part of the audience did not remain calm either. The whole audience was singing along, moving their heads and hands with even some grannies jumping up and dancing in the most culminating moments of the show. That’s the truly musical nation with unbeatable masti spirit!