On October 15th, the Black Box Theatre at Ashoka University transformed into a quiet, intimate space for Unmediated Sound, a concert showcasing four exceptional student musicians from Ashoka’s Performing Arts department. Tucked away from the noisy backdrop of university life— the constant construction, the humid weather, the everyday shuffle between classes— this performance felt like a retreat into a quieter space: the unmediated essence of sound. With dim lighting, buzzing pre-concert chatter, and a sense of community that embraced both performers and audience members alike. Without the use of microphones or any technological amplifications, the performers embraced the natural acoustics of the space—each pluck of the sitar, every beat of the tabla, and the resonance of the tanpura felt organic, almost as if the instruments themselves were conversing with the room.
Professor Justin McCarthy, Director, Performing Arts deliberately emphasised the lack of extravagant lighting or elaborate prompts. At the beginning of the show, he spoke about how electronic interferences sometimes mask the intricate subtleties of music. The absence of technological mediation significantly deepened the connection between the musicians and the audience. In this unembellished setting, sound existed in its most authentic form, devoid of barriers or distortions. This experience prompted a profound reflection on our reliance on technology to shape our listening experiences, highlighting the stark contrast of engaging with music in its raw state. The unadorned quality of the performance allowed the natural acoustics to resonate fully, showcasing the sheer talent of the musicians without the artifice of electronic enhancements. This clarity revealed a more intimate and direct communication, where the intricacies of each note and rhythm emerged as a testament to the artistry involved.
Arijit Bhattacharya, a PhD student, opened the night on the sitar, weaving a late-night raga, Jhinjinoti, that spoke of romance and longing. The music was a blend of rhythmical precision and non-linear, flowing movements. There was a melancholic depth to his performance, emblematic of the emotional weight the raga carries— lovers meeting in the night, their connection tinged with the inevitable separation that morning brings. But, just as the mood settled into this delicate sadness, Bhattacharya introduced a soft playfulness, a contrast that highlighted the nuanced contradictions within the piece. Before moving into the rhythm of the jhala, he paused to sing two lines of a bandish, to provide the textural basis of the formal, rhythm-keeping composition that was to follow. His performance felt personal, almost like an inward reflection made audible, and his shifts in rhythm kept the audience engaged.
Sounds of the sitar still echoed in the BlackBox when Meyhaa Kilam (ASP’25) took the stage to sing a Meera bhajan. Her voice shifted from quiet whispers to arching crescendos, evoking the almost sacred energy that characterizes Meera's lyrical poetry. Kilam’s deep voice filled the acoustics of The Black Box, taking the audience through a slow, meditative journey. Drawing from the depths of emotion, it felt as though her voice reached out with the intention to touch the divine.
Aditya Ramdasi (ASP’25) on the tabla followed with a performance that was both educational and interactive. Unlike the more traditional concert format, Ramdasi framed his piece as an insight into his personal practice, riyaz. Before he began, Ramdasi took a moment to tune his tabla to a live tanpura, played by Srijith Poosarla (UG’26), a subtle but significant element that added a new layer of depth to his performance. This was a fresh experience even for him, as tabla players typically perform without a live pitch instrument like the tanpura to guide them. The live drone of the tanpura provided a continuous tonal foundation, allowing Ramdasi to explore the rhythmic intricacies of the tabla in perfect harmony with the pitch. This dynamic interaction between rhythm and tone elevated the performance, giving the audience a rare glimpse into how the tabla can blend with melodic instruments in a live setting.
The richness of the tanpura’s drone paired with the tabla’s rapid, intricate beats created a full-bodied sound that resonated throughout the Black Box Theatre, making the performance feel both novel and deeply rooted in tradition. His openness set a casual, approachable tone, as he explained different taals and their use in his pieces throughout his set. His fingers flew over the tabla with incredible speed, his entire body engaged in the music-making process. The audience, spellbound, could feel the rhythm in their bones, even if they were not classically trained. Ramdasi’s ability to connect with the audience, both through his explanations and performance, made his set one of the most engaging of the night.
Vignesh Hampapura, a Teaching Fellow with the Department of English, concluded the evening with a vocal performance that embodied the very essence of Unmediated Sound. Before beginning, Hampapura introduced Kant’s ideas on the sublime, explaining how this concept goes beyond mere beauty to describe a complex structure of experience—one that blends awe with terror and wonder with panic. He tied these ideas to traditional Indian musicality, emphasizing the raw emotional power of sound when it is unfiltered and direct. Hampapura's first piece, Bagayanayya in Raga Chandrajyoti, was a reflection on the sublime, with its dissonant notes evoking Kant's concept of awe and vastness. The absence of microphones amplified the emotional impact, allowing the audience to experience the music's grandeur and tension more intimately.
His second piece, Jambupathe in Raga Yamuna Kalyani, emphasized the raga's sweeping yet subtle movements. Again, the lack of amplification allowed the music’s delicate nuances to shine, making the performance feel deeply personal and unfiltered. His performance was dynamic, his voice and body moving in sync with the music. There was an air of finality in his piece, as though the evening had been building up to this quiet, soft performance. Hampapura’s charisma as a performer was evident— his engagement with the music was total, and the calmness of his performance brought the concert to a fitting close.
Tanpura, the one unifying element throughout the performances, provided consistency. In many modern classical performances, this drone is often replaced by an electronic version, eliminating the need for an instrumentalist. The tanpura fit perfectly with the event’s aim of avoiding digital intervention. The choice to use a live tanpura added a direct connection between the musicians and the soundscape, further emphasizing the raw, unfiltered quality of the performances. The subtle tones of the instrument tied the individual performances together, giving them a sense of continuity despite their differing emotional tones.
The concert was a rare and deeply enriching experience. It required the audience to slow down, to attune themselves to the nuances of classical ragas that unravelled at their own pace. They had to become listeners. This meditative quality may have been demanding for some, especially those more familiar with the energetic rhythms of Bollywood or electronic fusions. But for those willing to lean into the performance, it was emotionally moving. If Unmediated Sound is anything to go by, the future holds many more nights of thoughtful, immersive, and profoundly moving music at Ashoka.
(Edited by Teista Dwivedi, Giya Sood, Srijana Siri)
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