Tchaikovsky Band

Jaikumar Jaikrishnan, aspiring Carnatic soloist, Western classical violinist, or anything other than the lead coronet player for Sharif brass band, dreams of joining the string section of the Bombay Chamber Orchestra. Will the little help from his fellow musicians help?

Jaikumar Jaikrishnan, JJ, stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror, yesterday’s NRI bridegroom’s words still ringing in his ears. “You even look like Jerry Garcia, man!” the happily inebriated young man had gushed enthusiastically.

JJ scanned the list of violinists selected to play at the Carnatic music festival, again, for the umpteenth time. His name was not there even though he had poured his heart into playing the Rasikapriya ragam with his very own gamkas.

“Maybe the Bombay Chamber Orchestra will select me for their violin section,” he said, hope seeping into his voice as he looked up at the flickering tube light struggling vainly to keep the looming darkness at bay.

It was four-thirty, half an hour before the band assembled for tonight’s baraat. Enough time to practice his piece. He tucked the violin under his chin and started retuning the E B E B strings back to G D A E, determined to give the performance of his life at the audition next week.

JJ shut his eyes to let the music flow through him. Images of Alpine meadows and snow-capped Dolomites began to replace the peeling paint and threadbare Sharif Brass Band uniforms. Just then Sharif-bhai walked in. “Baraat is almost ready,” he said, “time to get ready.”

The lizard on the wall darted back into the shadows. The crescent shaped, deep blue stillness of lake Geneva faded. The warm glow of philharmonic hall floodlights dissolved into the thick, humid air of an overcrowded room full of band musicians.

Uniforms were pulled on, belts tightened, epaulets adjusted, and instruments tuned. The motley crew of weathered faces, calloused hands, and emaciated limbs morphed into a resplendent brass band complete with elaborate headgear and shiny instruments.

A hapless groom clung on to the horse for dear life as the brass band lined up in front of the waiting baraat elbowing its way into the stream of humanity flowing through the street. JJ took a deep breath and waded in with his cornet belting out a melodious, silky prelude to ‘Raja ki ayegi baraat.’ The Sharif Brass Band surged forward, its booming drums and boisterous brass overwhelmed the roar of traffic.

In the middle of the third song, Sharif-bhai spotted a familiar figure and brought the band to a sudden halt. Someone handed JJ his violin. A raucous rendition of a familiar introduction startled him. His violin sprang to life with a cadenza-like entrance as Jaikumar Jaikrishnan began playing his heart out, moving mellifluously through the fast running scales and triads.

An astonished Neil Wadia, conductor, Bombay Chamber Orchestra, froze on the steps of Shanmukhananda hall. The dreadful noise of the shaadi band had suddenly given way to the soloist’s cadenza-like entrance in the first movement of Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto in D major Opus 35.