Marghazi melodies: Enda (row) Mahanubhavulu?

Even an audience has hierarchy. In a plush auditorium where a concert goes on, the crème de la crème of society, by virtue of their VIP status, occupies the front row, because where you sit is an indicator of where you stand in the echelons of society. However, the marginalized back rows do have admirable advantages — one can casually ask to stump the seat-mate if he knows the difference between kesari and sojji, one can also do a cryptic crossword, sudoku or jumble, one  can hiss to the wife who calls on the android  that he would willingly  settle for arsenic instead of her colloidal uppuma for dinner. The ones who embellish the front row have to follow more don’ts than do’s. Privilege calls for responsibility.

 Most front row patrons, observing the regimen of punctuality, troop in minutes before the kick-off. A few deliberately show up late, since they reckon that arriving late gives them greatness. Their aim is to capture the eyeballs of VIP spotters from the  ‘cattle class’. The front-row luminary, acknowledges, with breezy familiarity, the greetings of fellow seat-mates in the first row with a broad smile, a graceful nod, an inclination of the silver spangled head or an exchange of a few words. The snappy hands-joined salutation from the star musician in the midst of a  varnam rendered in Shatabdi  speed, is the ultimate accolade to the luminary.

Mind you, if the performance of the singer is several rungs below par, the luminary should  grin and bear it. Care should be taken to  synchronize the tala with what is going on in the stage. Should he go wrong, the choleric, star mridangamist wedded to his instrument may look daggers at him. Agreed that the one seated in the front row can watch the musician and his stock antics at close quarters. But the reverse is also true. The musician, on his part, can also watch the front row occupants with the acuteness of a Sherlock Holmes. Any surly curl of the upper lip, a muffled snort, or worse, sneaky glances at the wrist watch could dishearten  the singer. By the theory of cause and effect, his rendition may slide progressively down in quality. It would therefore be judicious for the knowledgeable front seat occupant to wear a mask.

(The writer specialises in humour)