In 2013, we were on the lookout for land in the suburban areas for small investment purposes. Land developers arranged for transport to and from our residence for a tour of the properties offered. One of those trips brought me a pleasant surprise. Another person and his friend were in the car, and as I struck up a conversation, I was happy to learn he was a musician. I have always been attracted to and fascinated by musicians—whether singers, instrument players, composers, or anyone contributing to music. He was a stage singer as well as a composer. We became friends when he heard about my passion for music. We met a couple of times, and once he visited my house. After that, we mostly kept in touch through phone calls. He had a sound knowledge of music, and we would discuss for hours together. These discussions were a great learning curve for me. He would dissect any song and explain the nuances—how the instruments interact with each other and the uniqueness of the composition. He was fond of many music directors and their innovative methods, but he was an ardent, die-hard fan of Ilayaraja. We often ended up talking about his songs.

His compositions were mostly devotional but had a distinct stamp. He didn’t tread the beaten path; he used all modern methods and Western influences in composing his devotional music. Over time, I learned from him about the themes on which he composed, the visualizations he did, and why he chose particular instruments.

Now and then, I would request him to teach me, but he was preoccupied and couldn’t find the time. I committed the cardinal sin of sending him my so-called “composition.” That’s how I learned what all was missing in that song.

During the pandemic, in one of our regular tele-talks, I was pleased to learn that he was now ready to teach me. An intense coaching regimen over the phone, three days a week, one hour per class, followed. It was like a dissertation. Every class would include both theory and practice. We started with Carnatic music, right from the meaning of the name, its history, and so on—the whole gamut was opened up. All the Melakarta ragas and their note formations were taught in a very short period. I made substantial progress through the first book and well into the second one. It was a great revelation to learn about the relationship between ragas and Western scales, and even a few Hindustani ragas. I was made to practice ragas in various scales, and at last, my journey took jet speed and gave me a lot of solace. This continued for two years, and compared to where I was, I now had a fairly rich knowledge of more than just the basics.

However, due to falling health, with a lot of remorse and sadness, I decided to put a full stop. I simply handed over my compact digital piano to this teacher in recognition of the knowledge he had imparted.

And now, sitting back, I am tempted—seriously considering continuing my education with the MIDI keyboard I have, without any pressure and just for pleasure.

Wish me well...

To be continued... 55 - Tapestry of Confusion Part 1