This is no child's play
ARUNA CHANDARAJU
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Sameer Acharya does talk a lot of music for his age. But gladly, unlike other child prodigies he hasn't ceased to be a child
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PHOTOS: MURALI KUMAR K.
INTENSELY INVOLVED Sameer's a very friendly child and is not reclusive like most child prodigies are
Seven-year-old Sameer Acharya is agog with excitement — he can't wait to sing to us the tarana he's just composed. It's in Malkauns raag set to drut ektaal and he's tuned his harmonium, electronic tabla and tanpura, hoping we'll say yes. (end para)
He begins after we settle down to listen. The sweet and sonorous voice I hear is definitely that of a child, but the mastery of melody, rhythm and bhaav it carries in it are that of an accomplished musician, the confident expert. Even his handling of the harmonium reveals an amazing proficiency (the tiny hands stretch with some effort across the bellow and keyboard). His profound grasp of the advanced aspects and subtle nuances of Hindustani music leave you with that sense of incredulity and wonder that happen when you confront child prodigies. (end para)
Sameer has other compositions to his credit. Also, he's masterfully tuned Purandaradasa and Haridasa keerthanas including in difficult ragas like Kedara; besides Tiruppavai pasurams. Some have already been presented in his public performances. He can recognise nearly 100 raags and handle complicated rhythm cycles like that in adachauthaal with ease. He uses the electronic table to perfect his theka bols. In fact, his sense of shruti is amazingly perfect. He tunes his swaramandal, tanpura and tabla without any assistance. Sameer has to listen just once and lo! he has a complete grasp of it. He sings with fine ease ghazals, dhrupads and khayals. The boy is so constantly at his music that his knuckles have calluses from the constant drumming he does on any hard surface he can find to practise rhythms.
For his parents Vidya, Satish and guru Sakuntala Narasimhan each day is a fascinating discovery of the extent of Sameer's talent and knowledge and his appetite for further learning. He is a voracious reader of gharaana histories and music theory from whichever source he can access - - the Net or books. He regularly downloads music from the Net and constantly goads his parents to add to his CD collection. He loves to attend live concerts.
Yet, Sameer was largely self-taught until a year ago. After a brief stint with Carnatic music which he didn't much relish, he went back to learn on his own from records. He was barely four and half when he taught himself to read and write the scripts of at least eight languages to understand their lyrics better. Recognising his extraordinary interest and talent for music, his parents decided to put him under expert guidance. Hence he came under the tutelage of musician and author Sakuntala.
Sameer's not shy or reclusive like most child prodigies are who - - when you try to draw them out - - will avoid eye-contact, answer in monosyllables and slink away to their creative corner where they go back, once again, to their own world. Sameer, however, wants to chat with you, sing to you, and enthusiastically explain to you the intricacies of music.
With all the restlessness and irrepressible energy of a child, he darts from one corner of the room while talking to us, answering technical questions, displaying his swaramandal, showing us digicam recordings of his concert, offering us ginger biscuits, and suddenly telling us that the strains of the tabla we can hear are off-key as the artiste hasn't got his theka-bol right. However, once he's seated before his harmonium to perform or for a lesson, he is a picture of total concentration. Sakuntala recognises that Sameer is at once both child and child prodigy. "After all, except for his musical prowess, he is a child in every way," she says. So she is willing to joke, laugh and even play with him in between learning sessions at her home, knowing this is the best approach with his like. She is teaching him a khayal and we note his effortless and flawless reproduction of the long and complex lines.
Lesson over, he shyly asks his teacher if he can take a break to go drink some water. She nods her assent and Sameer leaps up from the divan and bounds away to the kitchen. He returns in a minute and asks us if we want to listen to a tharaana.
Of course, we want to. Soon, we can tell, there will be large audiences also wanting to.
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