<p>This Christmas, I was part of the phenomenon called Madras Margazhi, the month-long celebration of theatre, South Indian classical music, and dance in Chennai. From mid-December to mid-January (the Tamil month of Margazhi), there are more than a hundred plays, music, and dance concerts daily. Connoisseurs come from across India to enjoy these programmes, and artists travel from across the world (hundreds from the US) to perform. </p><p>Concerts start in the morning in the premier venues, which host up to four programmes daily. The evening programmes are for senior and more eminent artists, and tickets may be sold out weeks in advance, while morning concerts usually offer free entry.</p>.<p>Vidya, our host and curator of the Margazhi phenomenon, suggested a 9 am concert on Christmas at the Music Academy, the Mecca of Carnatic music. The concert was by T M Krishna, TMK as he is popularly known, the current year's recipient of the 'Sangeeta Kalanidhi' award from the Academy. Vidya wanted us to leave her home at 7 am to stand in the queue for entry, and we reached by 7:30 am to find a queue already formed.</p>.<p class="bodytext">My stomach growled, and Vidya asked me to visit the Academy canteen. Like the Academy, most premier venues have excellent food services; a popular joke is that some people head straight for these canteens and return home, tummy filled. I relished a dosa-vada-coffee combo, but not before standing in a long queue to pay for the breakfast!</p>.<p class="bodytext">The legendary late violinist T N Krishnan would honour the morning concert at the Music Academy every Christmas and would play <span class="italic"><em>Jingle Bells</em></span>. I was hoping TMK would sing a kindred tune. He did not sing a Christmas carol but sang a composition of the social reformer Narayana Guru: “Are you Rama? Are you Mohammad? Are you Buddha? Are you the holy son (<span class="italic"><em>Pavitra Putranne</em></span>)?</p>.<p class="bodytext">The <span class="italic"><em>Pavitra Putran</em></span> had been crucified, as he was viewed as a threat to the then-existing political and religious order. TMK also sang a Tamizh song, <span class="italic"><em>Sudandiram Vendum—yedaiyum paesa, yedaiyum paada, yedaiyum ezhuda, yedaiyum padikka, yedaiyum ketka</em></span> (We need freedom—to speak and to sing anything, to write and read anything, and to listen to anything), alerting us to the continuing human struggle with autocracy and oppression.</p>.<p class="bodytext">My last concert of the day was a vocal <span class="italic"><em>jugalbandi</em></span> by two senior students of TMK—Vignesh Ishwar and Rithvik Raja, who ended their concert with <span class="italic"><em>Jingle Bells</em></span>. The audience—comprised of a majority of ‘TamBrams’ (Tamil Brahmins, considered a bastion of religious, class, and caste privilege)—listened with rapt attention and gave a standing ovation when it ended. Christmas represents the spirit of harmony, and I (born a TamBram) felt happy to have had a Merry Musical Margazhi X’Mas.</p>.<p class="bodytext">‘Maa Vidvisaaavahai’ (let there be no animosity amongst us), a part of the ‘Om Sahana Vavatu’ prayer from Taittiriya Upanishad, is Gurumurthy Kasinathan’s pseudonym.</p>
<p>This Christmas, I was part of the phenomenon called Madras Margazhi, the month-long celebration of theatre, South Indian classical music, and dance in Chennai. From mid-December to mid-January (the Tamil month of Margazhi), there are more than a hundred plays, music, and dance concerts daily. Connoisseurs come from across India to enjoy these programmes, and artists travel from across the world (hundreds from the US) to perform. </p><p>Concerts start in the morning in the premier venues, which host up to four programmes daily. The evening programmes are for senior and more eminent artists, and tickets may be sold out weeks in advance, while morning concerts usually offer free entry.</p>.<p>Vidya, our host and curator of the Margazhi phenomenon, suggested a 9 am concert on Christmas at the Music Academy, the Mecca of Carnatic music. The concert was by T M Krishna, TMK as he is popularly known, the current year's recipient of the 'Sangeeta Kalanidhi' award from the Academy. Vidya wanted us to leave her home at 7 am to stand in the queue for entry, and we reached by 7:30 am to find a queue already formed.</p>.<p class="bodytext">My stomach growled, and Vidya asked me to visit the Academy canteen. Like the Academy, most premier venues have excellent food services; a popular joke is that some people head straight for these canteens and return home, tummy filled. I relished a dosa-vada-coffee combo, but not before standing in a long queue to pay for the breakfast!</p>.<p class="bodytext">The legendary late violinist T N Krishnan would honour the morning concert at the Music Academy every Christmas and would play <span class="italic"><em>Jingle Bells</em></span>. I was hoping TMK would sing a kindred tune. He did not sing a Christmas carol but sang a composition of the social reformer Narayana Guru: “Are you Rama? Are you Mohammad? Are you Buddha? Are you the holy son (<span class="italic"><em>Pavitra Putranne</em></span>)?</p>.<p class="bodytext">The <span class="italic"><em>Pavitra Putran</em></span> had been crucified, as he was viewed as a threat to the then-existing political and religious order. TMK also sang a Tamizh song, <span class="italic"><em>Sudandiram Vendum—yedaiyum paesa, yedaiyum paada, yedaiyum ezhuda, yedaiyum padikka, yedaiyum ketka</em></span> (We need freedom—to speak and to sing anything, to write and read anything, and to listen to anything), alerting us to the continuing human struggle with autocracy and oppression.</p>.<p class="bodytext">My last concert of the day was a vocal <span class="italic"><em>jugalbandi</em></span> by two senior students of TMK—Vignesh Ishwar and Rithvik Raja, who ended their concert with <span class="italic"><em>Jingle Bells</em></span>. The audience—comprised of a majority of ‘TamBrams’ (Tamil Brahmins, considered a bastion of religious, class, and caste privilege)—listened with rapt attention and gave a standing ovation when it ended. Christmas represents the spirit of harmony, and I (born a TamBram) felt happy to have had a Merry Musical Margazhi X’Mas.</p>.<p class="bodytext">‘Maa Vidvisaaavahai’ (let there be no animosity amongst us), a part of the ‘Om Sahana Vavatu’ prayer from Taittiriya Upanishad, is Gurumurthy Kasinathan’s pseudonym.</p>