The iconic Beatle wrought those words into a song, when he was trying to kick the heroin habit. Here in Chennai and the rest of the planet where Carnatic music is avidly followed, the end of December affects music lovers in much the same fashion. Even if not in extremis like Lennon, an aching void prevails. The season, as we know it, is over. At least, till the next December comes along.
The season just concluded, as we all know, was not a normal season. There were many unseasonal aspects to it – the unrelenting rains, the unmanageable floods, trauma and tragedy stalking thousands of displaced people. It literally rained on the season’s parade. At one stage, one wondered if the famed music season was going to be a complete washout. But as the human species has shown many times over, it has this uncanny ability to bounce back with renewed vigour. Witness the immediate aftermath of the 2004 December tsunami, 9/11, 26/11 and many other catastrophes, natural or manmade. The strength of the spirit overcame any weakness in the flesh. Musicians and music lovers found a new cause to show their unflagging spirit. Out of the rubble emerged rejuvenation.
After a month long orgy of sabha hopping, following their favourite stars, discovering new kids on the block, soaking in elevating lecdems, consuming dodgy food across canteens, the tireless rasikas are left bereft, as the music comes to an abrupt halt. Men and women, boys and girls drag themselves hangdog like, back to their homes, hotels or guest houses, many of them to pack their bags and head off to New Jersey or New Delhi.
It’s not as if the musicians themselves fall silent for the rest of the year. Far from it. They will be performing over the best part of the next ten or eleven months at venues around the country and abroad. And the fans will flock to their concerts in Bengaluru, Mysuru, Hyderabad, Kochi, Tiruvananthapuram, Mumbai, Delhi - why, even Kolkata. To say nothing of all the festival concerts in Chennai. Add to this several cities in the USA which have become major stomping grounds for Carnatic musicians, and you get the complete picture. And before you can say Margazhi Maha Utsavam, we will be back with the 2016 edition of the December Season.
So why the longing sighs? Why wander around looking glassy eyed and lost?
The reasons are not far to seek. It is that unique flavour of Chennai during the season, combined with a sense of homecoming to thousands of out-of-towners, bonding with the family, fraternizing with old friends – simple pleasures the cosy comforts of the West cannot provide. Time flies when you’re having a good time.
All right, the roads are an absolute disgrace, traffic snarls you cannot believe, smelly garbage piled up at street corners, paranoia about infection (“Rahul darling, I said no drinking water from the taps”), and yet the heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains our sense, as though of hemlock we had drunk, to paraphrase the poet.
So what are these withdrawal-induced behaviour patterns that we should watch out for? Here are a few tell tale signs that could spell incipient trouble, particularly for those going back to the Wild West. Mom, Dad and the kids will be having a rough time of it.
Come the last few days of the season and there’s a marked loss of appetite. Where a couple of weeks ago, your teenage children were wolfing down those ‘idlis’ at breakfast like there’s no tomorrow, now they merely glare at the stuff balefully.
“Kids, I don’t know what the big fuss is all about. The Cleveland festival will open in a few months, and all your favourite stars will be there. And we have canteens there as well, serving yummy ‘pongal’, ‘vadai’, the works. So stop whining and get packing.”
Your little sister, inspired by all the music she’s been absorbing, essays a difficult passage in Bilahari during her morning practice. And all you can say is, “Purleeez Latha, can you put a sock in it? I’ve had it up to here.”
At your mother’s prodding that you should visit your favourite grandaunt one last time, your reaction is typical. “Aw Mom, we’ve been to see Kamu Paati gadzillion times already. Not again.”
“Rahul and Latha, you have to be ready at five tomorrow morning. We are paying a visit to our ancestors’ ishta deivam on the outskirts of the city, before leaving for the airport.” “What! Tell me you’re kidding, Mom. If I don’t see another temple in my life, it’ll be too soon”.
And so it goes on, but take heart. In less than a year you’ll be back. In your Knicks or Bulls cap worn back to front, heading for the canteens. And with any luck, El Nino would have taken its unwelcome attentions to some other part of the world.
(The writer is a Bengaluru-based brand consultant, music lover and an occasional columnist)
