The Seasoned Tourist

“Enchanting Tamil Nadu”, goes the state government’s tagline for promoting tourism, with accompanying photos of soaring gopurams and nimble dancers leaving no doubt about the nature of enchantment being proffered. Notwithstanding its abundant endowment of beaches, hill stations and wildlife sanctuaries, it is from the lofty pedestal of its cultural edifice that Tamil Nadu reaches out to the tourist’s wallet…And with over 3000 glittering jewels from the state’s bountiful legacy of cultural treasures on display in the month of December, the Margazhi Mahotsavam ought to be a shoo-in as the state’s showcase tourism attraction. Actually, the event scarcely even finds a mention in government’s tourism promotion efforts.

Considering its bewildering magnitude, the December Music Season is a somewhat self-effacing creature, accessible only to the determined seeker. Indeed, but for a few apologetic bill-boards, in their fifteenth year of recycling and arts supplements cocooned inside ever-bulging reams dedicated to page 3 panjandrums, the casual visitor would be hard pressed to infer from the streets of Mylapore and T Nagar, the happening of any more significant an event than a high school fete. Unsurprisingly, a large majority of the state’s 40 million domestic and 1.5 million international visitors, many of whom arrive during the “peak tourist month” of December, pass through Chennai, blissfully unaware of this cultural phenomenon.

After accounting for the odd westerner trying to reconcile the Lonely Planet’s evocative descriptions of the Music Season with the ramshackle auditorium that confronts him, “season tourists” can broadly be divided into two categories: For the non-resident Tamilian back home on vacation, the season is essentially a bunch of conveniently located speak-easies that provide an attractive number of eyeballs for their Calvin Kleins and Kanjeevarams. Add to that, the temptations of the canteen fare, and it is no wonder that the performances themselves are interesting, but not indispensable, side shows.

The serious music tourist, on the other hand, is a rarer, and more diverse, species ranging from reputed musicians with packed performance schedules to keen-eyed culture vultures, thrilled to have picked out a priceless gem from the rubble of cultural kitsch-fests worldwide. For Margazhi’s natural reticence hides a gale force that would sweep away all the mud sloshed, splattered and smeared at Woodstock: Season 2006 featured over 3000 performances and while some of these grandiloquently titled “Sabhas” are nothing but fronts for pushy parents to promote their children, the sheer numbers are reason enough for the curious rasika to pause in the middle of her Thodis and Sankarabharanams, and wonder why such an event does not engage a wider audience.

Her train of thought would eventually lead her through the tunnels of esotericism which eclipse the interest of many a wannabe rasika. This is especially true of Carnatic Music which, unlike Bharathanatyam, does not have the benefit of visual appeal or universally understood emoticons to negotiate cultural barriers. Nor are the majority of musicians equipped to provide convent-accented annotations to their performances, leaving the neophyte at sea in the middle of shaking heads and shaken notes.

Information would, therefore, appear to be the missing ingredient that robs the Season of a stronger extra-regional flavour. But that branch of thought is weighed down by so many low-hanging fruit as to threaten it with an awkward collapse. A kiosk at Chennai airport is one such no-brainer. But an unreasonable expectation, nevertheless, from the TTDC’s sleepy counter. How about brochures, booklets, schedules, profiles leaflets, handouts? Nyet, unless you know exactly what you are looking for and where to look for it.

Save for dilapidated banners and perfunctory arts supplements then, the December Season is an inner circle of the initiates. Rather an unfortunate situation for a festival whose information needs go well beyond dates and venues. Some sabhas do offer lec-dems but dissertations on nadai pallavis and adavus, are unlikely to be of interest to greenhorns, flailing for a grip on the fundamentals. And those that muster the patience to sit through such sessions often find themselves dragged along nostalgia trips that tend to dissolve in a welter of tears for days gone by…

Some would question the very desirability of increased tourist attention, thanks to its well documented potential for cultural pollution. While commercial interests as diverse as housing finance and mobile phones are slowly discovering the depth of rasikas’ pockets, rare is the businessman whose concern for the bottom-line is completely detached from cultural leanings. Likewise, the Sabha Secretary suffers the hassles of the Season as much for the art that graces his gates as the net receipts there-from. Given this tenuous balance between artistic merit and the catcalls of the market, the purists' concerns about an invasion of philistine tourism dollars are not entirely unfounded.

But the reconciliation of cultural and economical interests does have precedents worthy of emulation. The Salzburg festival in Austria, for instance, hosts about 250,000 visitors and over 200 concerts of unimpeachable classicism along the banks of the Salzach every year. Regrettably, Margazhi has to make do with the rather less inspiring backdrop of the Cooum. While this would no doubt cause a good proportion of potential tourists to turn up their noses at the Season, the event’s olfactory handicap is just a minor discord in a complex cacophony whose chief refrains include choked parking lots, inconsiderate amplification and arctic air-conditioning.

However, addressing the rasikas’ long-neglected wish-list would require Margazhi to plunge deeper into its illicit dalliance with commerce. The Salzburg Festival, for example, has a budget of over 10 Million US Dollars. A fraction of that money would transport rasikas into a state of bliss that would otherwise take an MS Subbulakhsmi to achieve but reigning in rampaging economic interests would be a hard challenge. Moreover, a large proportion of Salzburg’s receipts is publicly funded which, in the Indian context, is just more fuel for skepticism.

Inadequate recognition of South India’s classical art forms may be a common gripe among its fans but their demand for a “Chakkani Raja Margamu” for the Season changes to a more cautious “Nidhi Tsala Sukhama?” when the pitfalls along the high road to fame and fortune are considered.