—Narasimhan Vijayaraghavan
For a change, one chose not to sit in the audience but on the dias itself, flanking the performers on either side—close enough to sense the pulse of the hall and to read the mood of the rasikas as clearly as one reads a raga phrase.
From that vantage point, the truth of the evening revealed itself without embellishment. And what Narada Gana Sabha offered on those December days was quietly heartening.
RaGa’s concert on 25 December 2025 at 6.00 p.m. had already hinted at a welcome reversal of recent trends. The hall was genuinely full. Then came Sunday, 28 December 2025, at 4.00 p.m., when Sandeep Narayan opened his concert with Sāmi Nīyē in Kedaragowla. Seen from the dias, the picture was unmistakable.
The ground floor was packed, the balcony equally so, and latecomers hovered at the edges, scanning for a vacant chair. Even the sides of the dias were occupied, listeners leaning in, unwilling to miss a phrase.
There is something transformative about viewing a concert from the dias. One senses the music travelling both ways—outward from the performer and back again from an alert, receptive audience. The singer responds instinctively, the accompanists find added lift, and the exchange becomes almost physical in its intensity.
Sir Isaac Vivian Alexander Richards once put it perfectly: “Man, it sounds a lot richer and more fulfilling when there are spectators in the stadium than just lime, cement and mortar.” The truth of that sentiment was palpable that evening. For a few hours, Margazhi breathed fully again—alive, attentive, and wholly present. A rasika’s day is made.
