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The last word on this subject has obviously not been said. Nityashree gave a strangely subdued concert at the Narada Gana Sabha with misalignments in shruti at times. When she sang the main piece in Bhairavi nobody noticed when the song ended and there was a dead silence at the end. The end song, 'Katrinile Varum Gitam', was a big hit.
However, all this is not the focus of this write-up. The hall was full and the stage was also packed. There was no chance of Jayaraman doing a repeat performance with his coffee tumblers, though I would not put it past him to form a human chain and send the coffee tumblers by relay.
The sexes had very nicely divided themselves into two groups, which in India happens automatically for some strange reason. Mamis to Nityashree’s right and mamas to the left. And such was the decorum that day that when a mama, not finding space on the gents side, tried to get on to the women's side, he was quelled by powerful looks and glances and made to retire to the side wings. There was nothing in the mama to suggest that he was a Casanova, but anyway that was that. Over and above this, two nameless rasikas provided all the non-musical diversion.
 On stage was a mami in magenta. No, the colour was not the cause of distraction or diversion. Mamis are free to wear what they want. But this mami in magenta, who had till the third piece been keeping silent and watchful, suddenly sprung into action when Nityahsree began the alapana in Mandari. Perhaps she could not identify the raga. Perhaps she did not like alapana. But that was no reason for her to unfold a newspaper and begin reading it column by column as though it were a reading room or her private boudoir. There is always a thrill in reading the paper over someone's shoulder and soon two mamis, behind the magenta one, joined in. It was a very curious sight to see them all poring over the sheets, with the paper crackling in their excitement. Mercifully, nobody asked the magenta one (should we call her Shyamala?) to loan them the sports section or the supplement. The reading continued right through the mandari piece.
Next was svAgatam krShNa. Shyamala sat up. She folded the newspaper and put it away into her bag. Her upa-readers sighed in disappointment. But more was in store. What happened was that Shyamala knew the song and had decided to sing along with Nityashree. So sangati by sangati she sang, keeping time with Nityashree, but not quite. There was a half a mAtra difference between the two. Also, towards the end, when the song got quite complicated, she could not keep pace with the words also. She decided to ad lib, and while Nityashree sang the song perfectly, our Shyamala made up with “ding dong ding dong I go along” and words to that effect. At the end of the song, so moved was she that she removed her spectacles and dried her eyes. All this when NGS forbids people from singing along as expressly printed on the reverse of the tickets. Perhaps the rule does not apply to those on stage. In any case, the stage is where one should sing from and so she was well within her rights.
 But Shyamala was nothing compared to Anantapadmanabha (APM for short). That is not his real name. He found the seating arrangements on stage very cramped and decided to spread, sorry stretch his legs and sat that way for a considerable period of time with his foot towards the artiste. It is said Ariyakkudi sang “En paLLi kONDir ayya” to awaken a sleeping patron in the front row. But Nityashree did not sing “pArkaDal alai mElE”. Her family members who were in the front row tried to attract APM’s attention and make him fold his offending leg, but he was in yOga nidra and did not notice. Later he sat up and peace reigned.
Sriram.V
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