My wife taught Hindi and Kannada languages in a convent. I used to drop her at her school but could not come home quickly due to the number of cars and vans dropping children at the school. I used the waiting time to watch the enthusiasm of schoolchildren.
When a class teacher arrived, it was usually a quick “Good morning, miss” by the students, and they would go back to their friends to play, but when the music teacher arrived, it was different. The boys would rush and hold her hand and escort her up to the teacher’s room. A few more boys would join in this minor procession. I could see that they loved her.
I have often wondered the reason for this. She was a good teacher like anyone else, but that could not be the only reason. Maybe she kept them happy for one hour, with corrections made in the class itself and no homework! The boys perhaps would go home and sing to their parents the songs they had learnt in the class and would be the ones to sing during family get-togethers. Small wonder she was their hero.
When I was a child, my mother engaged a music teacher, Rukmini, who had learnt Carnatic music from Sri Ariakudi Ramanuja Iyengar, the doyen of Carnatic music. It started with a simple Saralevarase and ended in her learning nearly a hundred Kirtanas over a period of 10 years.
The highlight was when she took them to Madras, now Chennai, and made them sing before her Guru. I wanted to learn music, but my mother put her foot down and refused fearing that I may end up as a music teacher with very little earning. While they sang, I played with my friends. Subconsciously, I too developed an ear for Carnatic music. As a family, we do not miss any kutcheri and can recognise most of the ragas.
Today, I belong to a small motley group of nine to learn semi-classical songs of Purandara Dasa, Bharathiyar, and Brahmananda.
Our teacher, who also belongs to this group, had learnt Carnatic music when she was young.
Interestingly, our group also has people from Delhi who are not familiar with Carnatic music and a lady from Kashmir. Music has no boundaries. The one hour we spend together is the most relaxing since we shut the door to the outside world.