The stage was ready. The huge colourful canopy lent the place a brilliant look. Our Principal Sir was giving last minute instructions to our Games teacher and Music and Arts teacher who were organising the college annual day function that was going to be held that evening. Everything was spic and span.
A pretty happy Principal Sir was complimenting the two teachers for organising the evening the way he wanted. But his only worry was the possibility of hordes of students from rival colleges swooping down to disturb the function — just for the fun of it — which had become almost a tradition in Aligarh, my home town in Uttar Pradesh.
If there was an event in some college, take it for granted that disruptive elements would reach there to spoil it. February-March is the time when most educational institutions hold their annual day simultaneously marking farewell to the Grade XII students of Intermediate colleges. I was one of them.
Since such an event included plays, skits, mimicry, music items and the like, it generated considerable interest among students in general.
Sixty five years back (in 1953), barring movies, there being hardly any sources of entertainment in my small home town, such college functions did arouse interest but these were not open to all. That explains the phenomenon of gate crashing by entertainment seekers. Some of them did want to really enjoy the programme but some others wanted to gatecrash only to disturb it.
Right from the beginning they would boo and jeer at the artistes, quite often leading to clashes between the two sides. The same way, the harried students would avenge it by disturbing the function at the intruders’ college. So, the chain was never broken.
A college function being a purely internal affair, its authorities did not feel the need for seeking police help. Even when a couple of constables were deployed they could not have prevented yelling and sloganeering. The Proctor’s team of student volunteers was also unable to restore order.
True to our principal’s apprehension scores of outsiders swarmed our college that evening and right from the beginning started to hoot and boo every performing artiste. The goings on disappointed the parents sitting in the front row.
Repeated appeals to the trouble makers were going in vain. The noise was reaching its crescendo. The rampaging mobsters started breaking the chairs and throwing them aimlessly. Tense as they were, the principal and the other two teachers did not know how to salvage the event.
Nevertheless, even in the midst of despair, they decided that the show must go on.
Despite the loud noise and slogan raising, my fellow students were bravely enacting their roles. I was waiting for my turn to render a couple of songs assigned by our music teacher. Suddenly, an idea struck him. He asked me to take the stage and go ahead with a popular lullaby he had heard me sing —‘Dheere se aaja ri ankhiyan mein...’ by Lata Mangeshkar in 1951 film Albela
“A lullaby before a stormy audience! Ridiculous! Nothing short of racy, upbeat music might calm them down,’’ exclaimed an exasperated principal. However, the music teacher stood his guard and counselled patience. After getting the nod I sat down in front of the microphone and started the rendition, supported by the orchestra who were not prepared for the situation.
Surprisingly, the shouting and yelling stopped. There was pin drop silence, the unruly crowd listening to the four-stanza song with rapt attention – something unbelievable. The lullaby had cast its magical effect. The crowd chorused, “Once more’’ (meaning ‘one more’) which was promised if they remained quiet.
After the function ended peacefully, the music teacher explained how it happened. It was the therapeutic properties of the Indian classical music, precisely the raga based-lullaby that had soothed ruffled nerves of the mobsters. How a mother sings a lullaby and her child starts getting drowsy and then falls asleep is common knowledge.
In 1933, when all kinds of treatments failed to cure Italian dictator Mussolini’s insomnia, Indian classical singer Pandit Omkar Nath Thakur was invited. Within half-an-hour of his rendering, Mussolini incredibly went into deep sleep.
That the Hindustani and Carnatic music have therapeutic properties has been proven through the ages as described in the ancient Nada yoga. Various ragas (musical genres) produce beneficial effects, physically, mentally and emotionally and heal a person.
Today, music therapy is being deployed as a substitute for anaesthesia ensuring a painless surgery. Playing, performing and even listening to appropriate ragas can work as a medicine. A particular raga evokes sweet, deep and stable state of mind.
On the contrary, fast and loud music excites, raises blood pressure and pulse rate, often leading to violence. I need not elaborate.
With its balmy effect, a lullaby cools down incensed tempers. Sometimes I wonder whether lullaby or some such soft music can be used to quell an unruly, riotous crowd?
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
