A Trip to Gulbarga

Music is something that has always eluded my mind. Although I have tried my hand on playing several musical instruments, I have actually never been able to master one completely. To top it all, as if its fate’s way of rubbing salt on wounds, all my close friends are brilliant musicians. One of them has even released a music album. Another is teaching music in the Middle East. Still another is a music director for the films. Sigh.

Amidst this trauma, what is a little consoling is that I manage to play a bit of guitar and keyboards. But that’s it. Beyond that I am a dunce. Therefore, it was a bolt from the blues when a University in Gulbarga sent a letter requesting me to come and judge their music competitions. I remember them sending me a similar letter two years ago. After much coaxing, I agreed. But I thought that would be the last time. But I guess I was wrong!

Besides, the situation had been different last year. I had relatives in Gulbarga. I had time to splurge. I had my friend who rolled out a music album accompany me as a judge. This time, everything was haywire. I didn’t even have the choice of tagging my friend along as the authorities had already arranged judges from other states. What was relieving though was I had to judge Western music and not Carnatic or Hindustani classical music, which could have made my life miserable, unless I knew all the ragas, which I doubt.

Since the professors knew me on a personal level, I was compelled to take the trip. Stricken with fear about the role I would don, I undertook the journey to Gulbarga. When I hit the city around 2 am in the night there wasn’t a soul in sight. The roads looked curfew-laden. Not wishing to barge into the university and wake up authorities, and declare my presence at that unearthly hour, I scouted for a hotel to stay for the night. I found that all the good hotels were taken. I cursed myself for not reserving a room in advance. Finally, just before the crack of dawn, I located a place. The hotel wasn’t any great shakes, but just enough to sleep away the tiredness.

The search had me exhausted totally. So, I crashed immediately. Crazily, I had a bad dream involving music. It was all hazy, couldn’t make out what it was about. That apart, when the alarm went off, the ghosts of music returned to haunt me about the competition that lay ahead. Suddenly, my hands and feet turned clammy. I wished I was dead.

Next day, we received a hearty welcome at the university. I was introduced to other two judges. One guy, Yousuf, who supposedly did vocals for a Bangalore-based band and other lady, a very good looking one, was a classical singer herself. Both were from Bangalore. That put me at a definite disadvantage as they frequently chatted in Kanada of which I could make no head or tails. But in the end, we three hit it off well as we seem to be bond by one common “cord” – music.

Unlike what I expected, the competition turned out to be a pleasant experience with singers doling out songs of Celine Dion, Back Street Boys, Abba and other groups…but unfortunately nobody sang any of MJ’s numbers. Sad! Although the participants picked up good numbers, either they jumped the scale, or their voices cracked, or they were completely off key. Only a few were good. Moreover, there was this group that appeared on stage dressed in immaculate suits but sang the entire song out of tune! I wondered what they thought it was: a fancy dress competition or a singing competition.

Since there were only a few groups which sang professionally, it made our judges’ work dead easy. We could narrow down the winners quite easily. Once satisfied with the outcome, we all loosened up. We took a short break for tea before we dispersed for good.

Even before I realized the competitions were over, I was heading home. With the dreaded contest coming to an end, my tensions disappeared. After living life on the edge, the return journey filled my heart with a lightness that can only be explained by an individual whose death sentence has just been pardoned.