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They were five of them; each secure in the knowledge that what he had was something unique. Zakir Hussain, A Shivamani, U Shrinivas, Shankar Mahadevan and V Selvaganesh.

To each, his knowledge was as strong and unwavering as faith, as deep and boundless as religion. Up close, each would reveal a personality different from the others, as different in deed as the fingers of a hand, but here one could not quite guess what roles they played.

Yet they had come together, sitting like so many figures on a chess board, looking ready to play the game, perhaps even checkmate the other, if an opportunity arose.

Five musicians, three of them on drums of varying provenance, one on a string instrument, and the fifth relying only on his voice to give them support, contest, or harmony.

They started playing, the voice first exploring the ether, the mandolin strumming merrily along in harmony, and the drums taking up alternately with the kanjira and the tablas.
The synergy was immediate.

Looking at the packed hall, I could not help thinking with some surprise that this was evidence that we are an optimistic people. Whatever our outward stances, we retreat into nature when the going gets tough. So there we were, more than a thousand strong, old and young, men and women, dressed in saris, jeans, whatever, drinking in the music with wholehearted fervor.

It did not matter whether the tune was a bhajan from Meera’s repertoire, or a Carnatic raga; whether there were words or only taans, the rhythm bound us all; the music enveloped us, snaking into minds like a vapor. The pain of the recent carnage was blotted away, recession became something that could be worried about later, something of little consequence, at least as long as the magic held sway. It was like a cloak of forgetfulness had spread itself over the entire hall.

It was, I thought, a typical reaction to pain that one cannot do anything about. Worry is an animal that has to be tamed, that needs must be collared and led away into the darkest recesses of the mind, and what better way to light up the place it has inhabited than with something beyond one’s periphery of immediate experience. Something that the mind can grapple with forgetful of self.Music, for example.

But to get back to the musicians. They played in unison, each giving way to the other, and then, as is their habit, each one played solo.

It could so easily have become a war of wills, of talent, of disciplines and learnings. After all, each had learnt under a different tutor, and was undoubtedly fiercely loyal to his lessons and the one who had imparted them.

Out of such passion do differences grow; and from the belief that there is only one God and that one is ours. Differences that lead first to open rivalry, then to argument and on to hatred. But the Gods who watched over these were benign, and had learnt in a different heaven, to co exist.

So it was that while one beat out a tattoo with a single hand, that got the house on to its feet, the others, also players of world renown, sent out nods and cries of appreciation, and encouragement. And when the voice took over, the others played just that bit softer, to let it lead.

How simple I thought, if the world worked things out in this way. If each of us, from different castes and creeds, and different persuasions and understandings of life, could give all the others the space to be themselves. A simple group of five had managed to enthrall an entire hall of diverse people, people who probably would not exchange a glance outside the doors, were bound together by the music.

How much more binding would be the cords that would link us to one another if those who preached to us of religion and God and the ways to reach salvation, spoke with different voices but more important, listened to what the others said. They would then realize that though their words were different, and the paths they walked on were different; each started from the same place and led to the same end.

Like the music of these five, they would soothe away cares, help empower the mind. And there would be no fear of the lurking, uncertain terrors that strike with no warning, because they would have no reason to be!