Part 2

Just then, Taranjit had arrived with a tray that held tea and cups. “The boys call him Gitaz, sir. Because he supplies the melody for their playing” he said, setting them down. “Not any more” I told him “I have been disposed of for a supposedly more authentic and bearded model.”

“That is bad,” he said “those silly boys will come to miss you.” Guptar looked on with a small smile. “So, young Gitaz, how did you come to be playing and singing so beautifully in the mall this morning?” he asked. I said that my actual name is Gavin Fooks and that I busked to augment my income. I then told him that it may be my only income after next Friday as I had been a victim of ‘downsizing’.

“Interesting” mused Guptar “I suspect that with your colouring your ancestors would have spelt Fooks with a ‘q’ a ‘u’ in the old days. It does go a little way to explaining your distinctive voice. I have been to a lot of places and you sing slow songs in a style, known in Portugal, as fado. I am sorry to hear that you have lost your job, but, on the other hand, it makes it easier to explain the offer I have for you.”

Our meal had arrived and it was a bowl of Madras curry with chicken for him and a bowl of beef korma for me, something I had eaten there before. I thought about it and realised that neither of us had uttered a word to order anything. That meant that Taranjit had a good memory and that Guptar was a regular. While we ate we chatted about things that were happening in our society and Guptar said “I think you have realised, by now, that I am a traditionalist as far as my faith and my lifestyle goes. It makes it simple for me most times but I find I have an increasing sadness at the way my people are embracing the modern world, leaving their tradition behind. This is the crux of my problem.”

“I have a daughter who is going to be married in a month. It will be a full traditional wedding as her husband comes from another traditional family. As such, the ceremonies are long and follow the patterns that are centuries old. It will take several days but one of those days will include a sangeet, our version of a ‘hens night’. Those who have left our ways behind now entertain themselves with too much drink and electronic music played far too loud. My daughters sangeet will be in the old ways and much more refined with a small band playing folk songs and some dancing. After the wedding has gone its course there will be a reception and that small band will play there as well.”

“The small band consists of a player of the sarod, the fretless lute; the tanpura which you may not have seen, as it is a big gourd-like stringed instrument and not used by street bands like your own; and the two main wind instruments are the bansoori flute and the shehnai horn.” I nodded and said “So the only thing missing is the percussion and, maybe, a violin?” “Just so” he said “they did have a percussion player but she went and broke her arm last week and the band is now without one. The sarod player does also play the violin.”

We ate some more while I took in what he had told me. I said “Do I understand that you are considering me as a substitute dholak player?” He nodded and then said “I will pay well if you can fit in with the band and do well. It is my own credibility and pride on the line to make the whole affair go as seamlessly as possible. Everything must be right, as well as following tradition. It will mean you learning some new songs fairly quickly but you do have the basics in your grasp already.” He thought some more and then said “the band is already pretty well known around the place and does a lot of weddings and private events. If you fit in you may well become a permanent member and your income would be assured.”

Now that, as they say, was music to my ears. I said that I was free for the rest of the weekend if he could get the band together to find out if I came up to scratch. He said that he would arrange it for Sunday afternoon and that he would pick me up at the tower block at two. Then he said “There is just one thing you need to know before you agree to this. It is hard for me to ask of another man but if you knew what a traditional sangeet is, you would know that there are no men allowed. The other events do not matter but this one is traditionally women only. The small band is all female and that allows them to have an edge when it comes to traditional weddings. If this is to work you will have to appear as a woman when you play. It is not very far from your appearance today as the loose trouser with your kameez made me think you were one when I saw you. It was just the fact that you did not wear the chunni scarf over your hair that made me realise that you were male.”

I didn’t know if I should be offended but I knew that a lot of people had taken me for a woman when we played. Maybe my bad luck in being beardless would now be in my favour. Regular wages from playing music sounded good to me, good enough to wear a scarf if that was what it took. I said “I will like to try out with the band, tomorrow, and we can see if it goes further.” He asked me if I had a keski at home and I said I had. The two to three yards of turban material could act as a chunni at a pinch if I wore my hair down. Looks like I will need to have a shower in the morning.

We stood and shook hands and left the café after I had retrieved my pusher. Taranjit just made notes in a small book that he pulled out from under the counter. Now that is pure class; no need to order, no need to pay. Just eat and take care of the account later. He smiled at me and told me that he would see me later as I may have just turned the corner that led to a good life. I suppose he had heard pretty much everything as it was a small café and we had been the only ones inside. Now that was another interesting point, I wonder why everyone else ate on the pavement tables while we were there.

I walked home with my pusher as I was no longer in a busking mood. In my room I stowed everything away and counted my takings. With the notes I had earned enough to live on for a week so it had been a good morning. I counted out and rolled the coins in paper that I had got from the bank and made out a deposit slip. I would take these into the bank near my work Monday lunchtime and they would weigh the coins before entering up the amount in my account.

I went up one flight and knocked on the door where Balnoor lived. He answered it and beckoned me in to join him in a drink. “I’m sorry about the band” he said “it is such a good offer it was too good to pass up. We have practiced with the new dholak player and he isn’t anywhere near your skill but we have to put up with him as he is the promotors’ cousin.” I told him not to worry about it as I was happy they would be getting better gigs. I told him that what I was after was a listing, or better still the words and music, of traditional wedding songs as I may have a place in another band. He stood up and said “I may be able to organise something, wait here.”

He came back with a book which he put in front of me. “It is my sisters’” he said “and she will want it back but you can borrow it for a couple of weeks.” The book was ‘Traditional Indian Wedding Music’ and did have everything I was after in one fell swoop. I thanked him and we had a few more drinks before I went back downstairs to study hard. I spent that afternoon and much of the evening reading the book, memorising the rhythms and even learning some of the words. The chapter on a proper sangeet opened my eyes on how restricted it was but the words to the usual songs were so beautiful they almost brought tears to my eyes when I sang them quietly to myself.

I had an early night and a good sleep and, in the morning I made myself some tea and toast before getting into my shower cubicle to have a proper wash of both me and my hair. Today, instead of putting it in a pony-tail or up, I brushed it out so that it fell past my shoulders. I found a clean pair of kach underpants and a better pair of loose pants. Over the top I put on my best kameez and then draped my keski over my hair and around my neck in the style of a chunni. When I looked in the mirror I looked like a very plain teenage Indian girl.

This morning I concentrated on learning the proper sangeet songs as most of the ones at the reception would be ones I had played before, unless there were particular requests I was content to leave that in the lap of the gods. It was the sangeet that would be the clincher in this afternoon session. I had a light lunch as I was too wound up to eat much and then tuned my dholaks before putting them in their carry bags. I thought that I would also take the frames for them as well.

At two I was on the steps out front with my gear beside me. Balnoor came out to go to practice and greeted me as he passed and I wished him well. It was only after he had gone I realised he had spoken to me as he would a woman and had not called me by my name. A car pulled up and Guptar got out and loaded my kit into the boot and then opened the passenger door for me. I got in and he went around and got in the driving seat. As he drove away from the block he said “Good afternoon. I think that I will need to call you Geet from now on. That is the feminine version of Gitaz and also means melody. You already look the part and we have not even set the women on you yet. I am feeling better about this already.”

He was feeling better, what about me!!!

Marianne G 2021