Saraswati was a conservative Tamilian agent who spoke only once a year and
never waxed her arms. (I admit the latter point is irrelevant but it is hard not to
notice these things.)
‘Kutcheri is a Carnatic music concert,’ Saraswati made her point and drifted
back to being part of the wall.
‘Hey, I thought we wanted the evening to be fun,’ I said.
‘Carnatic music can be fun,’ said Ravi, another supervisor.
Yes, as much fun as wailing babies in a crowded train, I wanted to say but
didn’t. Political correctness is a necessity in Chennai, especially when everyone
hates you for being an outsider anyway.
I turned to Bala. ‘We want to raise spirits. Isn’t Carnatic music too serious?
Why not have an evening of popular music. Good popular music.’
‘A.R. Rahman, can we get A.R. Rahman?’ said one person.
‘Or Ilaiyaraja,’ said another.
Bala shook his head and waved his arms to say ‘no’. ‘We can’t do such big
names. The budget is not that high. And these people attract the press. Last thing
you want is some customer telling the press about their losses and us wasting
money on such concerts. Mumbai will kill me.’
After two hours of further deliberation that took us to lunch break, we made a
few decisions about the event. The concert would be held in Fisherman’s Cove,
an upmarket resort on the city outskirts. We’d have three to five singers of
reasonable fame, provided we kept to the budget of two lakh.
‘All set then,’ Bala said as we ended the meeting at six in the evening. I
realised I had to leave. After all, I had a big date with the big daddy tonight.
nora
(Nora)
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