It’s important to maintain Urur Olcott Vizha’s narrative

For me, the experience of the Vizha is like no other. When a group of us got together with the intent to bring down cultural barriers in society, I saw this as a way of introspection of my own art form - Carnatic music. The Vizha was started as an experiment, in partnership with the fishermen of the Urur Olcott Kuppam, to try and create spaces which would bring different art forms to an equal, level field, and also take away from the rigidity of the ‘context’ of art forms like Carnatic music. This, for me, was an important initiative as I was battling disillusionments with my own field.

In the first year, as a group, the idea of coming out of our comfort zones and taking music out of the ‘Sabha’ was very appealing. When the Vizha actually happened, the first thing that struck me was the beauty of the space. The Carnatic concert was being performed for a happy blend of Kuppam people, regular sabha goers, activists and artists. 

The second year followed after the floods, and this pushed us to explore the idea of the Vizha in other spaces like Ayodhya Mandapam, West Mambalam, which is predominantly a Brahminical space. The way the office-bearers there welcomed and honoured the fishermen who worked hard during the floods, was a learning experience for me —breaking stereotypes. This year, I see the strengthening of a wonderful relationship between us and the Kuppam people. An important initiative has been the percussion, art and photography workshops in three different schools around the area as a lead up to the Vizha.

For the past three months, I have been involved with training a set of young girls of ‘Avvai Home’ school in both classical and non- classical percussion instruments like ghatam, ganjira, konnakkol and parai. Renowned artistes like BS Purushotham, Guruprasad, KV Gopalakrishnan, Chandrasekhara Sharma, Praveen Sparsh and Deepan are working tirelessly with the girls and sharing their art with them. The girls, split into four groups, are taught the intricacies of playing each instrument. This will culminate in a short performance during the main Vizha on February 10. The idea is to get them interested in a new art form. 

The experience of interacting with these girls has taught me a lot, helped remove many reservations that are inbuilt in our psyche: can girls play percussions? Will kids from underprivileged backgrounds find it difficult to learn ‘classical art forms’ etc.

When Ramya Rose, who started off totally disinterested but today is one of the loudest votaries of the ganjira, looks at me with her sad eyes and asks, “You will not come again after February 10?”, my eyes fill up. I realise that this is only a beginning. The important thing is to continue this into a meaningful and constructive narrative. 

From a musician’s point of view, I see how closed we are as artists, we live and continue to live in our isolated bubbles and stay happy for the rest of our lives. As a serious practitioner, I feel I have a responsibility to my art, to the next generations that come after me.