Lost in the Vibe
A concert with my Guru, Sir Mahesh Kale
It was October 10, 2017. I had flown from LA to perform a classical Indian vocal concert with my batch mates and hear my music Guru, Sir Mahesh Kale, perform that evening in the bay area. I have to say that was the most beautiful evening of my life. After years of trying to put my art into the right hands and find a way to express such music in a culture in which classical Indian music is not commonly heard or understood, I was honored to have been accepted as an apprentice by the world-renowned singer Sir Mahesh Kale in the summer of 2015. How this incredible man had changed my life through the magic in his voice is inexplicable.
When I first walked into the concert hall, my hands were sweating as I glared at the hundreds on classical music lovers seated. My stomach was consumed by butterflies, for this was the first time I would be performing classical ragas (Indian melodies) outside of the temple community I had been performing for since I was a child. The concert began with Mahesh Sir’s 100+ students performing in their batch groups. After, he would perform his music with his most loyal and advanced male batch who would be seated behind him on stage.
Batch group after batch group had performed. I was seated in the backstage room nervous, anxious, and a whole range of emotions. My batchmates and I rehearsed over and over again. Suddenly, the improvisations I had rehearsed the entire summer had been coming out completely different while rehearsing! I had no idea what was going to happen. Then, from the back room, we heard the announcement “Please welcome, the very talented Surabhi batch!”. As I stood behind the curtain, I could see the seven of our names displayed onto the projector besides a picture of a dolled up Indian woman gracefully holding a lit candle in her folded hands. That’s the moment I thought it was real. We were about to face that large crowd.
We sat criss-cross on a dimly lit wooden stage floor with round, decorative stage pillows and a red cloth. I stared into the crowd, and I had gone blank. Why was I so nervous? I was usually in peace while on stage at the temple. I looked at Mahesh Sir’s seat in the crowd and it was empty. I gave a subtle smile, for I lacked the confidence to sing right in front of my Guru. My batch mate, Mrs. Iyer, began the alaap, or the introductory vocals, before we each contributed and together began the composition beginning with the line “Vidya dayani Mai Saraswati” which means “the bestower of knowledge; the merciful one; the goddess of music- the mother goddess Saraswati”. Her voice was so deep and gentle as she began improvising the lower notes that suddenly I felt one with the raga, one with our batch, one with the entire hall. As she wrapped up her vocals, we could hear the clapping of the crowd. The intensity was so real; it was so consuming. The only focus of the entire hall of music lovers was now the Raga Saraswati, one of the most powerful of the many ragas. Five of our batchmates, including Sir Mahesh Kale’s wife, sang their part of the introduction with such grace and ease it was as if they were telling a story through their voices. It was my turn to wrap up the alaap, the improvised foundation for the raag.
Darkness. Stillness. A rush of something in my veins- there the notes flew. My eyes were shut tight. Suddenly everything became nothing and nothing became everything. It was as if every soul in that hall projected their blessings into the notes. All I could remember was Mahesh Sir’s voice. His voice was alive in my head and his version of the alaap was a living template in my mind. It came out of my mouth with little recollection of how it was happening. Stillness- that’s all I felt in my body. Then I heard the voices begin. We began the composition. Each tabla (classical hand drum) beat was aligned with each note; the emotions in the voices, the embodiment of the raga, the sweetness of the voices, the variations, and the collaboration- all were more than enough to put me into another world.
This was just the tip of the iceberg. The genius behind the entire ICMA (Indian Classical Music Foundation) based in San Francisco was Mahesh Kale, former professor at Harvard and Stanford University and winner of the National Award in India. When he sat on stage, everyone froze. There was something about him that spoke volumes. He was so confident, so calm, and so humble. The ambiance was breathtaking. He slowly began singing the very first raga bhairavi, which he learned from his late mother, a legendary singer. The manner in which he projected his notes was as gentle as if he was holding an infant, as powerful as if he was speaking to a lion, as melodious as if the universe of sound was embedded into his throat, and so moving that the audience was left with goosebumps, tears, and utter enchantment. This incredible gentleman’s voice had the power to shake the crowd. He sang as if he was lost in peace within chaos. His sound, his power, his grace, his expertise, his devotion, his creativity was enough to leave me lost.
This man’s genius had left me and every single member of that night spellbound. I was left with nothing in my mind. His sounds echoed in my mind that night and yet today. If only words could express what music could. Was it music or was it magic? After listening to his recordings, I recalled that Mahesh Sir had once taught in his lecture that “brilliance lies in simplicity”. So, that’s what it was- it was magical music with brilliance within simplicity.
