An insight into the artistic temperament

I have just been re-reading Vikram Seth's 'An Equal Music' for the third or fourth, or possibly even fifth time. I haven't attempted to read any of his other works, but this novel of his, I truly love. It was a gift from a dear friend of mine, probably chosen because I am a musician and hence less likely to skim over the descriptive passages as people so often do.

I am all for re-reading books. The very first time I take up a book, I'm too greedy to savor it. I just want to gobble up passages whole, devour the chapters that hold me back from getting to the all important closure. I cannot, for the life of me, read simply to relax. My moods are always determined by the novel or novels I'm reading at the time. Woe is suggestible me!

But then again, isn't a work of creation supposed to 'affect' one? Are we not allowed to stop and think and question? To me at least, any work of art that doesn't somehow 'affect', is a failure, because it has failed to move, to elicit an emotional response.

This novel, in particular, might be titled 'An Equal music', but truly, it revolves around an unequal love. One must be an artist to fully appreciate the sentiments involved, because it's true, artists fall in love differently from the rest of the world. I'm not talking about 'entertainers' like Madonna, or the film stars of our generation. I mean, quite specifically, serious musicians, creators of art, people who are immensely moved by beauty.

When I was a moody teenager, I'd been forced to accompany my mother to some store, and I was looking around aimlessly(something I still do), when an elderly gentlemen came up to me and inquired as to whether I was an artist of some sort. Startled, I didn't know what to say to him, because at the tender age of 13, I still hadn't figured out that the arts were in fact my true calling. My mother, as always, butted in to the rescue. She gushed on about how I played the piano and was a very talented singer who did a lot of stage shows and sang with a few choirs, while I stood by, too embarrassed to even look the gentleman in the eye. When I finally worked up the courage to face him, he was smiling, a very knowing smile, and said he thought as much, because I had an artistic temperament.

The rest of the day passed in a sort of glorious haze. I felt so privileged to have been singled out as one who possessed an 'artistic temperament'. I wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but oh, it sounded so exotic! The next day at school, I caught up with my English teacher (I was always a favorite of my English teachers, so I got away with such things) and told her the story of the gentleman who had decreed that I had an artistic temperament. I then asked her to elaborate, fully prepared for a truckload of wonderful adjectives. Instead she smiled at me, the same knowing smile, and explained an artistic temperament as being prone to bouts of moodiness, periods of brooding and depression, in short, just being a temperamental and volatile person.

To say that I was disappointed would be putting it too mildly, and like any other thirteen year old, I brooded over the judgement passed until time took its course, as with all else.

Many years have passed since then, and I can now smile at how stupid and gullible I was at the time. But that old gentleman was amazingly accurate in his prediction. Whether I like it or not, I have been bestowed with an artistic temperament. Yes, it makes life terribly difficult for me and the people I love. But it's also what brings out the sensitivity in a person, the quality most essential to any artist, and it is that quality that aids one in creation.

Anyone who wants to know what goes on in the minds of artists should read 'An Equal Music'. Like any memorable love story, the romance is twisted and contorted and of course, unrequited. But the fact that this love story is set against the rich tapestry of classical music is where its allure lies, at least for me.

I've probably waxed far too eloquent already. No, I don't get a commission for every copy that gets sold. Its just a very fine example of Indian English writing, and I love it and so I'm telling the whole world about it.

End of story.