TEDx CHENNAI

A couple of weeks after the TEDIndia conference in Mysore, a man named Kiruba called me and asked if I would like to speak at the TEDx Chennai event. I immediately refused. I'm not good at speaking, I thought. I've never done anything like that before, and more importantly, what would I speak about?? I had no idea. But Kiruba kept pressing, kept calling, and kept motivating me to speak. And finally, after a LOT of persuasion, I agreed. I agreed to speak for five minutes followed by a short performance.

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I’m not here to talk about social programs, or women’s rights, or anything I’ve invented. I’m not going to try and promote anything or sell anything. All I can offer you is a story about my journey.

Almost 5 years ago, I got “The Call.” I feel like everyone, at some point or another, gets a call that changes their life. For me, that call came at two o’clock in the afternoon on June 9, 2004. My doctor told me that the cells they had removed from my neck were indicative of Lymphoma. Now, you have to understand that I was a typical 21 year old college student – the world revolved around me, I was a self-proclaimed hippy; making my own clothes, cutting my own hair, eating organic food, (I’m from California, if you haven’t already guessed)… I had no idea what Lymphoma meant. I had never known anyone who had had cancer. He told me I would have to move home and go through treatment. My response was “Can I do it here? Because like, I’m enrolled in summer classes and like, I really want to hang out with my friends this summer.” He said… “You probably won’t be taking classes this summer.”

So I looked it up immediately. I didn’t know what to think or how to react. I just remember holding my breath for a really long time. I didn’t know how to tell my parents, and I couldn’t do it for a couple of weeks. I figured hey, the doctor’s could be WRONG, right? I only told my mother after the results came in from my second biopsy at which point it was confirmed that I had Stage 2A Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

The following six months of chemotherapy and radiation involved a whirlwind of infusions, injections, medications, steroids, transfusions and a lot of other fun stuff that probably doesn’t need mentioning. During the long hours that I spent in bed, on my back, staring at the ceiling, and with the aid of some really strong medication, I started to feel panic. This can’t be it, I would think. There’s so much that I want to do. There’s so much I haven’t done. I haven’t left my mark.

What began as an incredibly dire situation, actually ended up doing me a whole lot of good. All of a sudden I felt motivated to do things I had never done before. It’s amazing how we react when we realize we’re running out of time.
I started painting – and the paintings that I created during this time are my absolute favorite. I started experimenting with photography. I taught myself how to play the guitar. I started composing classical music as well as popular music. I remember at one point I ran up to my mother and said “Mom! I’m going to write a THESIS.” And she said “that’s nice, but about what?” And I said “I have no idea, but I’M GONNA WRITE ONE!” I was sick during the 2004 presidential elections and instead of reacting in a surface level, hippy-esque, peace rally type of way, I actually tried to understand the ideas, the concepts, the motivations behind the candidates. I learned how to cook well and make food look beautiful.

I returned to university in 2005 to finish my music degree. Because the radiation treatment I had was directly on my neck and lungs, I really had no idea whether I would be able to sing again. The doctors didn’t know either. But I had to try.

In 2005 I auditioned and was admitted to L’academie de Musique Tibor Varga for a summer program commemorating the 250th anniversary of Mozart’s birth. The same year I joined the Intimate Opera Company in Los Angeles and was a chorus member in the comic opera Trial By Jury. In 2006 I mixed and produced my first cd which is now available on iTunes and Rhapsody online. The same year I was admitted to The Boston Conservatory to earn my graduate degree in Vocal Performance. In 2007 I co-founded a non-profit organization called Uplifted: Art Perpetuating Hope. We put on our first event that year which involved art galleries, dramatic monologues, photography galleries, and classical as well as popular music – the prerequisite being that all of the art involved had to represent or promote an aspect of social change or hope for a better future. In 2008 I met a man named “Guitar Prasanna” – those of you who are into Carnatic music probably know of him. He’s this crazy eclectic man who plays Carnatic music and jazz on electric guitar. He had worked with A.R. Rahman on the score for the film Lagaan a few years prior. After doing a concert with Prasanna, he recommended me for a position at AR’s music conservatory here in Chennai. I am currently a vocal teacher, choir conductor and recording artist at KM Conservatory in Kodambakkam, Chennai. Since being here I’ve had the opportunity of working with AR on multiple projects, including singing an aria for Shekhar Kapur’s short film Passage. I sang the aria at the premiere of the film at the Venice Film Festival in September.
In 2009, I also became, a TEDFellow.

So why am I telling you all this? I’m telling you this because going through cancer treatment was ironically the most inspiring, and motivating factor in my life. It made me realize the true incredible capacity of human beings. We as people are capable of doing amazing things. We are capable of changing ourselves in the course of 6 months – and because of that, I know that we are capable of changing others, and ultimately, changing the world. Going to TED in Mysore was proof of the staggering talent and strength of the people we share the world with. The more I live, the more beauty I see in people, the more good I see in people, and the more I realize that all we want is to be happy – and a big part of happiness is fulfillment. So I urge you in whichever field you’re in, to use it in a way that affects people.

Because the kind of fulfillment you get from affecting others, is limitless.

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And then, I sang. It was probably one of the WORST (and I mean WORST) performances of my life. Why? Well as you know, I'm not good at public speaking, so what I did would probably count more as public "reading." But because the topic at hand was so private, and so emotional, I felt a vulnerability so intense that I completely broke down during my speech. Not only was I a nervous wreck about speaking, but the topic itself made me quiver. Immediately after opening the flood gates, I had to sing, what is now becoming my signature aria, the "Laughing Aria" from the opera Die Fledermaus. I had asked for a piano for Andrew (my colleague and friend) to play, but the organizers could only come up with an electric keyboard - not even a full sized electric keyboard. To top it off, before I went up to speak, both Andrew and I had to go in for hair and makeup and they randomly gave him a mohawk. Yes. A mohawk. Why? No idea. But there was no time to complain.

Then to REALLY top it off... get ready for this... the electric keyboard's "piano" function wasn't working, so I sang the laughing aria to... drum roll please... weird carnival bell sounds. The whole performance was so ridiculous that I ended up having a whole lot of fun while simultaneously praying that no one would ever see that footage. So far, so good.

The response was very positive and I have Kiruba to thank for forcing me to step out of my comfort zone and take on a new challenge.

Interviews

After the TEDIndia Fellows were announced, and it came out that I work for A.R. Rahman, and especially after I gave my TEDx Chennai speech, I was approached by quite a few people asking if they could do interviews.  The following is the first interview that appeared in the "What's HOT" section of the Chennai Times on Jan. 8 2010.

SINGING A DIFFERENT TUNE

What's Hot talks to western classical singer Kavita Baliga, who is currently a faculty at AR Rahman’s music conservatory.

M SUGANTH
Times News Network

How did you come to be involved with KM Music Conservatory?
I speak Konkani. Every couple of years, the Konkani Association of California organise cultural conventions where Konkanis from all over North America come together and participate in discussions, seminars and programmes designed to promote Konkani/Indian culture for second generation Konkanis. During one such convention, they had invited “Guitar” Prasanna to perform. Since he lives in Boston and I was in Boston at the time, we came together to collaborate and perform for this event. Prasanna had worked on the film Lagaan with AR Rahman a couple of years earlier. After the convention, Prasanna went to Chennai where AR had mentioned to him that they were looking for a western voice teacher for his conservatory. Prasanna recommended me for the position and a week and a half later, I was in India!

Was teaching always a passion and what does teaching music mean to you?
At first, I thought teaching would be an interim activity and that my real focus would be on performing. Now that I’m teaching full-time, I’m realising how much I love it and how incredibly fulfilling it is to give a part of yourself to others and see them take it and flourish with it. I learned very quickly that teaching music is not like teaching math or science. It is much more abstract and requires a lot of self-awareness, a good voice, and a good ear. I love the fact that we are bringing something to India that hasn’t really existed here before. That, in itself, is daily motivation for me.

How would you rate the awareness level of Indian youngsters with respect to western classical music?
Oh, there’s absolutely zero awareness. Almost 99 per cent of my students had no prior exposure to western classical music; not only that, most of them had never even heard of the genres involved within that title. For example, if I mentioned the words ‘Opera’ or ‘Lieder’, I would be met with a blank. The only western music these students had heard before is what we call American bubblegum pop.

How did you become a part of 'Passage'? Could you share your experiences working with Shekhar Kapur?
I worked directly with AR on the aria for Passage. I met Shekhar much later, at one of the rehearsals for my performance at the premiere of the film in Venice.  I don’t know him well, but what I saw of him, I absolutely loved. He seemed totally and utterly incapable of small talk and was constantly speaking in the abstract. I’m uncomfortable and awkward with small talk myself; so, it was a welcome surprise. It’s so refreshing to have real conversations with people.

How is it working with AR Rahman and what do you think is so unique about him as a composer?
His style of working is not nearly as rigid as most western composers. First of all, he doesn’t put anything down on paper. Most of the time, he plays me something or sings me something and asks me to repeat it, or says something like ‘Can it be more flowy?’, and just directs me as we go along. When I worked with him on the aria, I found myself suggesting things and then thinking to myself, ‘Wait, should I be doing that? Am I way out of line right now?’ But he never makes you feel like that. He truly makes you feel as if you’re both collaborating on the project, not as if you’re working for him. And that was the case before as well as after he won the Oscar. I think that is truly unique for someone in his position.

You are involved in other creative arts as well. How do you manage to be a multi-tasker?
I absolutely love working like hell. I love being busy and seeing the fruits of my labor. The arts are like a form of meditation for me. They keep me sane. I feel calm as I go into a zone when I’m singing, taking pictures, painting, or even cooking for that matter. I love that when I’m doing these things my mind can just go blank.

  

My Biggest Complaint

Chennai:  I love this place.  When I say this the most common reaction I get is a look of sheer bewilderment.  People are usually absolutely baffled.  And the response is usually something like, "it's too bad you're not in Bombay or Bangalore" or "They must be taking really good care of you over there."  Well the first response in my opinion is based on false preconceived notions of what Chennai ISN'T. And the second is just plain false - but that's another blog altogether so I'll let that go for now.  

Chennai is actually everything I want in a big city:  a small town feel in a big bustling city of 7 million (documented).  It is the hub of music in south India and a center for the arts and dance.  The people are for the most part friendly and won't hesitate to assist you if necessary.  Most of the food I consume here is naturally organic which leaves me feeling refreshed, energetic and light whereas in the states i constantly feel bloated and heavy.  It has a huge underground bar and club scene that, because no one acknowledges that it exists, can stay open till all hours of the night.  I am doing something that I love, working for a man I admire, and bringing a different kind of art to India that has never really existed here before.  But the most attractive part for me - life is affordable.  I just moved into my own flat where for the first time in my life, I own every single piece of furniture that is in it.  When I get sick, I can go to the doctor and not worry about insurance cards or copays - I recently saw a doctor, got a chest x-ray, and even got my prescription medication for under 200 rupees. 200 rupees!

My biggest complaint though, which effects me constantly, is how conservative people are in regards to alcohol.  This might seem like a frivolous complaint because of all the things, who cares about booze?  But the way people think about drinking here is ultra ultra conservative - and there isn't room for the slightest bit of compromise.  Here if you drink - you ARE a drunk.  Period.  And these beliefs come with a hell of a lot of baggage containing racial discrimination and gender bias.  

Let me start at the beginning.  If you've been reading my blog you know that my house recently caught on fire due to a firecracker that was lit by a kid from a neighboring slum.  Since then a lot has happened: 1. We've been fighting like hell with the owner of the house because he says we're financially responsible which we're absolutely not 2.  Within a week or so I had to find a new flat and move.  I found a nice two bedroom in the Choolemedu part of Chennai.  The owner seemed chill, the flat was nice and Claire, Viviane, some of my students and I had fun painting the place and shifting everything over. All was well until I had my housewarming party with my co-workers.   There were about eight of us total - nothing special, just a small get together with pizza, beer, and good conversation.  At  11pm there was a knock at the door - it was the landlord's daughter.  Standing behind her was a tall man I had never seen before.  They both looked pissed. 

She started screaming, "WHAT IS THIS?  WHO THREW THAT BOTTLE?"  

Stunned, I said "Excuse me?  What are you talking about?" 

Uma: "SOMEONE THREW A BEER BOTTLE FROM THE BALCONY ON THE STREET!  THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOR IS NOT OK"  

Me: "What?  That's impossible.  It CLEARLYwasn't us..." at which point I turned around for confirmation. My  co-workers were sitting on the couch - wide-eyed with a deer in the headlights expression; a table full of empty beer bottles in front of them.  (Ayayooo).

Uma;  "I SEE THIS SCENE AND NOW I KNOW WHAT KIND OF PERSON YOU ARE!"

I went and looked out the balcony to see if I could see the bottle.  No bottle, no glass anywhere.

Me: "I don't see a bottle on the street.  What are you talking about??  There would be glass everywhere if  someone had done that."

Uma: " SOMEONE ALREADY CLEANED IT UP!  THIS IS NOT OK.  THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR!"

Me: "You're saying, that someone threw a bottle and then immediately it was cleaned up?  I don't understand. That obviously didn't happen."

Uma:  "WE WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS! NOW THAT I SEE ALL OF THIS I KNOW WHAT KIND OF PERSON YOU ARE!  I BROUGHT MY BROTHER FOR  PROTECTION."  

Me: "What??!!  What are you TALKING about???!"

Frustrated, and realizing I wasn't buying her story, she  turned and stormed downstairs.

The brother just shrugged and gave me a look that said "It's okay. don't worry."

I came back inside, stared at the others and said "That was the most bizarre verbal interaction I think I've ever had!"  Forget about the cultural differences and the possible social stigmas that surround alcohol consumption - but why lie and make up a random story?  What good would that have done and what response was she looking for?  Obviously my response didn't suffice.  

The next morning, when my students came over to help me with some of my furniture, the owner said to them, "Tell Kavita not to bring those people over.  White people have a different culture than us.  We know Kavita is good and she doesn't drink. But they do.  We don't feel comfortable with them coming here.  They might have guns."

GUNS?!?!?!?!?!?!?!  I don't even know how to begin arguing with that.  I went and talked to him and said "1. It's my house.  I can do what I want in it and if it doesn't effect anyone else, I'm not doing anything wrong.  2.  There is nothing in the contract that addresses visitors, so therefore legally I'm not at fault. 3. We're all co-workers and we all work for Rahman.  So regardless of race or gender, no one will be..... carrying..... guns." 

On every bottle of alcohol in Tamilnadu, whether it be beer or hard liquor, the label reads in capital letters: LIQUOR RUINS COUNTRY, FAMILY, AND LIFE.  While consumption of alcohol is forbidden under Islamic law (Muslims here generally won't even wear perfumes that contain alcohol), it is not forbidden for Hindus or Christians.  I tend to see more drinking culture among the Christian population, but it seems that there is tremendous social stigma surrounding alcohol for Hindus, even though scripture and religion don't formally forbid it. When I actually try to analyze the culture of drinking, I don't quite understand where the stigma comes from.  Perhaps it is a consequence of colonization; maybe it is seen as immoral because it was a habit of the British.  But in a country that is surprisingly loose about substances, (Bhang Lassi, Tobacco Pan, Opiates etc.), what is it about alcohol consumption that produces so much judgment? 

The street "bars" seem to aptly reflect the general attitude about the act of drinking.  These places are usually slightly hidden from main roads and dark - one solitary  bulb hangs from the ceiling illuminating dirty plastic tables and chairs.  The ground is more often than not covered with empty bottles and urine.  Men will crowd this space till the wee hours of the morning, drinking beers such as "Kingfisher Super Strong" and other brands that promise a higher alcohol content than regular lagers. Next to the sitting area will be the liquor purchasing area.  The vendors will stand behind iron bars and pass through bottles one at a time.  It is an unsaid rule that women aren't allowed at these places.  Upscale bars and clubs however, are usually in international 5 star hotels, therefore are ridiculously expensive.  So I can either pay 65 rupees at the wine shop for a Kingfisher, or 250 rupees at the Park Hotel.  

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When I think of some of the most significant experiences I've had in my life, not to mention the most peaceful/meaningful experiences, most of them involved drink... spending time at home outside on the deck with my parents over a glass of Robert Mondavi at sunset, sitting in the bustling Piazza del Campo in Siena, Italy with my roommates over pizza and Chianti, Dirty Martinis and Mojitos with Hassan, Arnold, Alicia, and Michael at The Abbey in West Hollywood, Mimosas with Maya and Michael at brunch, a cold Sam Adams after vocal concerts in Boston with Susannah, Allison, Carolyn and Katherine, and spending time getting to know my fellow Konks over Sake Bombs in the bay....

I wouldn't trade in those experiences for anything!

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