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 As the National Girls School came into view, a long serpentine queue was visible. There were mamis in silks, mamas in dhotis, young men with vibhuti on their foreheads as applicable and several girls in
half-sarees.
Rickshaws were standing in line with the elder citizenry in them even as their juniors were buying the tickets. There was laughter, conversation and fun.
In the midst of all this a few cars were driving up and dropping off their aristocratic occupants, who, conscious of their social status, made their way silently through the gates, flashing their membership cards.
"Semmangudi has a full house this evening," remarked KVK, his voice reaching a higher note in his excitement.
The car went in through the gate and drove under the portico. Ramanathan got down first and disappeared to the entrance to get himself a ticket. Sir VP disembarked next and, cane in hand, waited for KVK to appear from the other door.
"Who are his accompanists today?" asked Sir VP.
"Oh, the usual, Rajamanikkam on the violin, Kothandarama Iyer on the mridangam and Vilvadri on the
ghatam."
"Is Rajamanikkam still performing for you? I thought he belonged to the other side?"
"Sir VP, I don’t think that was a very fair remark. Rajamanikkam has always remained on the side of music. He never looks at language issues. I must go in and see if everything is in order. You wanted to see Semmangudi on something you said. He will be near the artiste’s entrance. I shall join you during the concert." Sir VP was always amused at the change that came over KVK once he was inside the Academy. In court he was always courteous and respectful, but once here, he was the lord of his demesne.
Sir VP’s car began backing out of the portico towards the gate. Just then a huge sedan turned in at the entrance. Inside was a short man, with a bulging neck, a huge nose, a prominent squint and a pair of diamond kadukkans so huge that they almost competed with the head lamps of the car. He was surrounded by a group comprising several women and children and a huge black dog.
The sentry at the gate stopped the car.
"Entry only for VIPs," he said with as much respect as possible.
The driver turned round and began explaining things to the short man.
Sir VP, having recognised the man, rushed towards the car. The dog began barking.
T N Rajarathinam Pillai lurched out of the car. It was evident that the maestro was already in high spirits. He staggered towards the watchman and tried to grasp his collar. The dog continued barking.
"So what if this entrance is for VIPs?" he slurred. "I am also one."
"Pillaival, let me explain..." began Sir VP.
"VP, VIP.., ha ha," said Rajarathinam. "What kind of a place is this? Musicians are made to wait outside and patrons come into the gate. Do you sing a kutchery at your kutchery in court?"
"That is the Music Academy for you. A motley collection of lawyers and doctors trying to be one up on musicians in the field of music."
Sir VP started. He was not aware of a crowd that had built up all around him. The last remark had come from Ramanathan who was standing at his elbow. Dimly, Sir VP was aware of mamis beckoning to mamas and the crowd building up steadily.
A couple of enterprising rickshaw-pullers, one of whom was already over the eight, had muscled their way in and were watching the fun. Here was entertainment far exceeding the ticket value. Everyone was having a good time except himself. The dog continued with its barking.
There was a pop and a blinding flash from above. Sir VP looked up to see a photographer standing on the terrace of the building and taking pictures. He fervently prayed that the man was not from the
'Indu Nesan'.
Rajarathinam let go of the watchman and would have fallen had it not been for Ramanathan who supported him.
"I am going home," announced the emperor of nagaswaram, grandly. "They have stopped me, the Akila Ulaga Nagaswara Chakravarty, from entering the gates. I am not required to be present. I came to hear Sheenu, but he can now sing without me. I am off to Gokhale Hall."
He put a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a front row ticket and thrust it into Ramanathan’s hand.
"Here. Take this. Be aware of the fact when you sit that the seat belongs to me. Akila Ulaga..." He did not complete the sentence, for by that time, he had been half pulled in by the occupants of the car and pushed in by
Ramanathan.
A woman in the rear seat whispered something to the driver, who immediately began backing the car out, closely followed by Sir VP’s car. The dog gave a final bark before Rajarathinam gave it a blow with his walking stick.
The crowd began to disperse aided by the watchman who felt he must regain his lost pride by wielding the baton a little more forcefully.
"It is an ill wind that does no one any good," misquoted Ramanathan cheerfully as he gazed at the ticket.
"Cut the English," said Sir VP curtly and made his way to the artiste’s room. He was not aware that Ramanathan was also headed the same way.
To be continued...
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