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The reach of notes


Posted: Sunday, Jul 27, 2008 at 0225 hrs IST
Updated: Sunday, Jul 27, 2008 at 0225 hrs IST


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: Suhel Seth

Managing Partner, Counselage

Sometimes human disability can turn into a compelling magnet as it did in the case of Julius Caesar in the good old days, or for that matter with Beethoven whose symphonies always belied his deafness or even in politics when one took a look at a wheel-chair bound war President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

I have always believed that raw human talent can always overcome these disabilities and pave the way for an amazing showing of that talent, and nowhere does it do so better than in music. Prague, the city of romance, has church music being conducted by the deaf and you never know they are so till you are asked for some donations at the end of the concert. In fact, Prague is home to perhaps Europe’s finest music school, just steps away from the Charles Bridge. Except that all its students are blind. So when you walk beside that school, the wafting piano concertos make the atmosphere surreal as it were and it is then you realise the power of the human will.

Last week I underwent a similar magical experience. Lajatico is a small Italian village which sits at the cusp of three provinces in Tuscany: the provinces of Sienna, Florence and Pisa. It is about a 30 minute drive from Pisa and about an hour away from Florence. Surrounded by rolling hilltops and bubbling with sunflower fields, the place is magical to say the least. Lajatico is the birthplace of Andrea Bocelli, the finest tenor in the world today, who went blind at 12 and continues to live with that to this day. Bocelli, who was found wandering the streets of Tuscany by some music executives belonged to a rich family: even to this day, his father owns a tractor company. Every year, on July 20, Bocelli celebrates his birth and the magic of Lajatico in a concert that is held at the Theatro di Silenzio (the Theatre of Silence) which is an open air amphi-theatre of sorts, and what is unique about this concert is the fact that you have an undiluted Bocelli, who moves away from his legendary renditions of Ave Maria to sing some other classics. This year the theme was around Italian theatre and cinema. Inspired by the movements seen in Fellini’s films or for that matter in the opera, Bocelli gave us an inspired performance with a setting that only the gods could have created because even they perhaps love the voice of Bocelli.

What is remarkable about this annual event is not just Andrea Bocelli but the fact that he also introduces the world to a great singer: someone who he believes needs a platform much as the kind Bocelli was given by Luciano Pavarotti when he was young. This year that sensation was Noah. She is a singer of Yemen origin but from Israel, but someone who brought the place alive with her outstanding performances: and the first one was dedicated to Bocelli himself entitled the Eyes of Love. Words can never describe the moments that then emerged. No sooner did she start singing did you realise the depth of emotions that must have swirled in Bocelli’s head. And you could see it in his eyes. There was a bond that was created three-ways: between Noah and Bocelli; between Bocelli and us and between Bocelli and his inner conscience. Many years ago, when Bocelli was asked if he cursed himself for his blindness, he replied that he could see the world much better now because he had enough time to soak in whatever he wanted to see. And that evening, in the heart of Tuscany, under a full moon, this star shone so brightly. There was a surrealism that is only borne out of things that are out of the ordinary. Things that have greater inner meaning. And all of this is reflected in the manner in which Bocelli sings. There are many who believe that perhaps he would have been a poorer performer if he hadn’t been blind. They are not being unkind. But perhaps only a bit real. Sometimes, the physical absence of something more than compensates in the emotion realm and Andrea Bocelli is a reflection of that perhaps.

For me, nights such as these capture not just the triumph of the human will, but are instead aspirational. They are reflective of the determination that we need to steel ourselves with and perhaps in a strange way, they are so magical, so removed from reality, that at times one wonders, what isthe big deal about being normal physically if the soul itself is bruised?

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