It's been a while since I "penseived" my thoughts here. I have realised I have a ritual I never paid much attention to. There's a fantastic book called The Music Room by Namita Devidayal. I first read it in 2008. Since then, I have gone back to the book once every 4 years, re-read the book and soaked in the amazing nostalgia the book evokes. Namita, in my opinion, has written a magnum opus of a tribute to music teachers. As a girl, she was sent to learn music under Dhondutai Kulkarni. Through 25 years of learning music and a lot more from her, in the book, she chronicles the lives of a music form her teacher practiced that's now almost in oblivion. Every time I read the book, I am reminded of Carnatic music classes from my childhood. The thing is, I never hated it and neither did I love it. I just did it as a task. Years later, I know for a fact I took more from those classes than I choose to admit. The many hours spent listening to the shruti box tunes the ear
A Worm's Eye View..