Silly season

Whatever it may be in the western world, in India the silly season is well and truly on. From the beginning of the month of Maagha when the Sun sets off on its northern journey to nearly the end of the month when the Shivaratri heralds the onset of serious unrelenting summer, it is the Indian silly season.

And during this crazy season the noteworthy celebrations are themed on the silliness of the season itself. First, there is the Vasant Panchami, the formal harbinger of Spring when all the people are bedecked in the brightest sunniest yellows and engage in much merry making. Then there is the ultimate abandon of Holi which is ritualistically formalized by the communal consumption of opiates. The end of the silliness is on the night of Shivaratri where the ghosts, gnomes and all the world's weirdos are supposed to parade in the wedding procession of Shiva himself.

The government of my state has been changed this silly season. The world is congregating in the city of Bangalore to communally learn how to breathe making it that much more difficult for us beleaguered citizens, the temperatures are soaring yet the silliness permeates. There is too much silliness around. Yet the silliness of the season was celebrated so beautifully for me when I attended a concert of Shuba Mudgal.

The flashing diamonds nearly had me comparing her to those two ladies. She has the sweet devotion of one and the tremendous range of the other and yet her style is totally her own. Her repertoire seems limitless stretching from pure classical Hindustani music to the lighter styles of semi-classsical music to pop to jingle jangle and all. But she chose to go along with the silly season and sang only the sweet silly songs of vasant. Thumris, bhajans, horis and rasias- all about the shyam sundar in braj and thereabouts. And the diamonds, they brilliantly kept tune with her tones!

The intense pleasurable longing that Krishna evokes rendered in multiple compositions in raga desh juxtaposed with such musical fun and banter that I forgot myself totally. Lost in the music I felt I was in the pastoral vasant kunj of braj bhoomi not a stuffy air-conditioned hall in an urban mess. Young Murad Khan at the sarangi was wonderful in trying to match Shubha's virtuosity but one really missed a flute!

It was such beauty that I re-engaged in my eternal waiting for Him. He who showed the whole universe to his enraptured mother, who could appear to be singularly present and yet collectively mesmerise. For a glance of that divine beauty, I did go here but I think He is more there. Or so it seemed to me this silly season. In truth He is everywhere if only we can reach out and invoke Him.

Priya, if you are reading this, isn't Krishna more than a mere saviour of the oppressed downtrodden in his Apatabandhava form? Isn't he also the friend who plays foolish pranks and ensures that all are happy? For all his braj and Gujarati stories, He sure must, in spirit, be a true blue Bangalorean to be doing all this outsourcing, huhn?!!

Note: In celebration of the silly season, I've changed my colours too. Eventually I may return to staider stuff but for now- it's the silly pretty pitambar!