You Don't Need To Know Music To Appreciate Music

You Don't Need To Know Music To Appreciate Music

(This was carried as an article in eambalam.org in 2013)

It is no irony that every human being's singing career flourishes in the confines of a bathroom, for both music and time spent amidst running water everyday are liberating experiences. No wonder, many of us simply break into our favourite song as soon as we relieve ourselves of the garments that thus far sanctified us by protecting our morality.

When I received an invitation to write a blog from Ambalam for their website on Indian classical music and dance, I felt both honoured and amused. The closest I have come to appreciating carnatic classical music is through the songs of the Tamil film Sindhu Bhairavi and the Telegu film Shankara Bharanam. And the closest I have come to playing any form of carnatic music is by dabbling my fingers on an old, creeky harmonium at my place, courtesy a few lessons from a teacher many years ago as a kid.

I wondered whether the promoters at Ambalam had mistaken my innocent nods at one of the concerts in their premises to be my deep interest in the nuances of classical music. The truth is I was nodding out of sheer wonderment at the singer's ability to drag a few words and sentences in a rhythmic note of sorts, with the knowledgeable audience assembled there furiously engaged in appreciating the classical display of ragas.

My short cut to fame as a music lover comes from a curious and hidden place on Earth – the bathroom. I am a confirmed bathroom singer, and in the glorious solitude of the bathroom, with running water for support to lend whatever background score is possible, I too from time to time try my hand at singing the various film songs with hindustani or carnatic touch, far away from the glares and comments of critics. It is no irony that every human being's singing career flourishes in the confines of a bathroom, for both music and time spent amidst running water everyday are liberating experiences. No wonder, many of us simply break into our favourite song as soon as we relieve ourselves of the garments that thus far sanctified us by protecting our morality.

I have had an opportunity to attend a concert or two, and have always held in great reverence the classical performers who play something like the ghatam, or a nadaswaram, or twist their vocal chords to elicit from deep within them a rendition which holds you spellbound. An untrained singer like me has never understood the nuances of a raga – for me bhairavi is both the name of a girl as well as a raga; my knowledge of classical music ends there – yet, when I hear someone deliver it with panache, it provides a soothing effect which comes naturally, without even being able to comprehend the reason behind it.

Therein lies the real power of music delivered with a strong cultural base to it – which is what classical music is all about. The lyrics, singing methodology and play of instruments have a context based upon a story, being presented in a musical form. You need not intellectually comprehend its meaning, and can still end up appreciating it from a purely aesthetic perspective. If nothing, a well delivered recital performs the most basic function of relaxing your mental muscles, providing you with a few moments of relief from the humdrum unrhythmic responsibilities of life.

Being efficient at music requires the performer to be passionate about the chosen area. Even a music illiterate like me cannot escape the magic of a Kunnukudi Vaidyanathan on the violin, or a Chitti Babu on the veena, or an MS Subbalaxmi reciting Bhaja Govindam, because of their sheer involvement with the whole process of creating melodious sounds, making life itself seem like an orchestra. This just goes to show the immense power of classical, quality music to communciate, and provide an experience to the listener which transcends his own comprehension of its contents.

Truly, you don't need to know music to appreciate music. All you need is an ability to surrender your heart strings to the cords or chords – as the case may be – of an unlimited reservoir of creativity and intelligence bestowed on the world by the cosmos.

Why Geniuses Don't Make Great Leaders: Lessons From Cricket

Why Geniuses Don't Make Great Leaders: Lessons From Cricket

Geniuses like Sachin and Kohli perhaps unconsciously expect the same levels of ability from the people they lead. They cannot easily fathom why people cannot match up to their standards as it seems to come to them so naturally. As a leader, they tend to lose sight of the fact that while their less able colleagues can probably match up to their attitude, they cannot measure up to their skill. Bravado is not just attitude, it is also skill.

I am prompted to write this blog inspired by the result and leadership discussions surrounding the recently concluded Adelaide test between India and Australia. Virat Kohli, leading from the front in every sense of the term, engineered a brave chase on a fifth day pitch that eventually left Indian fans sobbing and Australia smiling.

Kohli, who made his debut as test captain, scored hundreds in both the innings and set up the possibility of a famous win, until he got out. The rest of the batsmen followed him to the pavilion in a hurry, reminiscent of the Sunil Gavaskar days and first half of Sachin Tendulkar's career..

Opinion is divided on whether Kohli did the right thing by instructing the team to go for a win, even though a more prudent course could have been to shut shop and play for a draw. In the quest to win a battle, India may now lose the war, with every likelihood of another 4-0 drubbing at the hands of the Aussies. My own take is that while the decision to go for a win was the mark of a true genius, who believes in his ability and in the habit of winning, it does not account for the technical as well as temperamental flaws in the other batsmen, especially when playing overseas.

This is typical of great individuals who become leaders. They excel as individuals, but fail to galvanise the team into a winning combination. This is not to write off Kohli as a leader – it is far too early to judge. The idea is to share a critical perspective concerning the art and science of leadership.

In cricket or in corporate life, geniuses hardly make inspiring leaders. In cricket, the country's greatest sporting icon Sachin Tendulkar failed as a captain. Sir Ian Botham, an iconic all rounder from England, failed as cricket captain. In our country, we remember Sunil Gavaskar more as a cricketing genius than as a great captain. Kapil Dev, though he won India the 1983 World Cup, was not seen as a great test match captain.

India's greatest cricket captain, notwithstanding MS Dhoni's record as skipper, is Saurav Ganguly, who himself was not an iconic batsman. One of cricket's most celebrated captains is Mike Brearley of England, who was more in the side for his leadership qualities than for his scoring ability. Just as Ganguly brought out best in Sehwag, Brearley brought the best out of Botham. Brearley also wrote a classic on leadership titled `The Art of Captaincy`. An exception was Imran Khan, who was both an iconic player as well as a terrific captain.

This phenomenon can be seen in corporates too. A great salesperson often does not make a great sales leader. Companies with charismatic CEOs hardly fail to sustain their performance either when the CEO's CQ (Charisma Quotient) goes down or he leaves the company.

There is a key reason why this happens. Kohli's hunger to win is admirable, but geniuses like him can lose sight of the fact that their colleagues carry less ability than them. Geniuses like Sachin and Kohli perhaps unconsciously expect the same levels of ability from the people they lead. They cannot easily fathom why people cannot match up to their standards as it seems to come to them so naturally. As a leader, they tend to lose sight of the fact that while their less able colleagues can probably match up to their attitude, they cannot measure up to their skill. Bravado is not just attitude, it is also skill.

Geniuses who become leaders tend to judge their team members wearing a lens which is more attuned to their abilities than their team's. But a captain who has leadership qualities, but himself is not an iconic player, is likely to be more empathetic towards his team members' limitations. A quality of success as well as leadership is to be aware of one's and others' limitations.

Iconic figures like Tendulkar, Botham or Gavaskar may also create an approachability issue for the team members they lead. It is not that these icons deliberately create a barrier – it is just that their team members are too much in awe of them. In the case of a non-iconic captain, he creates the approachability. Depending on his people management skills, he provides enough mental space for the iconic players also to perform at their peak. Thus, the trio of Tendulkar, Dravid and Laxman flourished under Ganguly's captaincy, and so did the great Anil Kumble.

MS Dhoni offers an interesting paradigm. He took over captaincy as a person with potentially good leadership skills and on the back of successes rose to become an icon. Since the 2011 World Cup win – when his iconic status got well and truly established -- his leadership in tests is not just uninspiring, but the overseas losses have become embarrassing.

Young Kohli has a lot to learn from all these people. Success is not just about knowing what others did right, but also learning from their mistakes or limitations. He is most likely to take over the mantle from Dhoni when the time comes. He therefore has the time to observe, introspect and finetune his leadership strategies. In fact, from Kohli's perspective, it is probably not such a bad thing that India lost the Adelaide test, as that may have pushed some serious limitations under the carpet, only to resurface in a more damaging form later.

Meanwhile, it might be a good idea for Kohli to have a tete-a-tete with Ganguly on leadership and call up Imran Khan to understand how to create a fusion between being an iconic player and a great leader.