For Carnatic vocalist Sikkil Gurucharan, Margazhi is much more than a season of music and concerts. It is a time for reflection, rediscovery and surrender, where musicians challenge themselves, find joy in collaboration and connect with audiences across generations. In this evocative column, he reflects on the magic of Chennai’s Margazhi season, the city’s inclusive musical culture, and the importance of taking music beyond familiar concert halls to make it accessible to everyone. Over to Sikkil Gurucharan...
Margazhi: A time for reflection and renewal
For me, Margazhi is more than just a month of concerts. It is a time when one year draws to a close and a new one begins. In that sense, Margazhi is a cusp between two years, marked by a series of events that bring us together. Throughout the year, we travel far and wide, performing concerts in different places. But, much like migratory birds, we flock to a familiar place for a particular season before moving on to other destinations. As musicians, I think all of us converge in this beautiful ecosystem called Chennai’s music sabhas. The season usually begins in late November and extends all the way to the end of January, when the Thyagaraja Aradhana takes place.
For those one or two months, almost all of us are in Chennai. We get to assess our standing as performers, having put ourselves through the gruelling test of performing almost every day or once every two days. What makes this particularly challenging is that the concerts often take place in close succession, sometimes with very little time in between.
The rasikas, too, are an important part of this experience. I would say that perhaps 50 per cent of the audience consists of familiar faces, while the remaining 50 per cent are people who are either listening to us or experiencing Carnatic music for the first time.
To challenge ourselves every day in front of such an audience gives us a clear understanding of where we stand at that particular point in our musical journey and where we need to be in the year ahead. I’m not talking about physical places, of course. I’m referring to what we have accomplished, how well we have maintained our standards over the year, and how much more we need to improve in order to become better versions of ourselves.
The Margazhi festival, which is technically no longer confined to December, gives us the perfect opportunity to challenge ourselves in the best possible way. And the blessing for musicians like me is that we get to embrace this challenge in an atmosphere of joy. We discover ourselves in a warm, welcoming and often playful environment.
And, of course, we get paid for it as well!
The magic of surrender
We also immerse ourselves completely in the cultural spirit that seems to take over Chennai during those few weeks. I may sound a little idealistic when I say this, but I genuinely feel that there is a force far greater than ourselves that carries us forward during the Margazhi season. As performers, we seem to draw on something beyond our own abilities and efforts.
Otherwise, I sometimes wonder whether it would be possible to sustain ourselves for so many years, singing at Margazhi concerts with such frequency and intensity. I believe it is the grace of God that makes this possible. Personally, for me, it also comes from a sense of surrender that takes over just before the season begins.
Of course, we prepare extensively. We learn new compositions, revisit our repertoire, and draw upon the best song lists and presentation techniques we have experimented with throughout the year. We bring together what we feel are the strongest elements of our musical journey and offer them during the Margazhi season.
And then, at some point, I simply leave it all to God. I surrender to Him, saying, ‘This is Your festival. Please take it forward.’
I truly believe that this higher power propels us forward through every Margazhi season. And every year, I come away with the feeling that there is still so much room for improvement within me. It is this awareness of how much more I can learn, discover and become as a musician that I look forward to most.
Learning the art of improvisation
I have been attending season concerts since I was an eight-year-old boy, accompanying my grandmothers to their concerts during Margazhi. I watched them receive awards at prestigious sabhas and perform concerts across different time slots, sometimes at 10 am, again at 3 pm, and then at 6.30 pm. Watching them prepare for each concert, adapt to each performance, and interact with one another as a duo, as well as with the accompanying musicians, was a fascinating experience for me.
For a long time, I didn’t realise that Carnatic music involved so much improvisation on stage. Even when it came to a simple raga alapana, I assumed that everything had been rehearsed beforehand. That was how naive I was!
Whenever the mridangam artiste finished a rhythmic passage and the ghatam or kanjira artiste took their turn, I imagined that they were simply reproducing what had been played before them. I wondered how these musicians had such extraordinary memories and how they could reproduce everything so impeccably. I genuinely thought their brainpower must be incredible!
It took me a while to understand that this was, in fact, improvisation. The artistes weren’t reproducing the same ideas note for note; they were responding to what had come before and creating their own interpretations in the moment.
That was when I began to understand the magic of the concert platform, particularly during the Chennai Margazhi season. It is a space where ideas are exchanged freely, where artistes inspire one another, and where each musician is given the freedom to nurture and express their own musical ideas. There is something wonderfully democratic about this process.
When musicians become one
It dawned on me rather late, but that, to me, is the real magic of Margazhi. A live concert is an opportunity for musicians to set aside their egos, or at least make a conscious effort to do so, and come together as a cohesive unit.
The Chennai audience is incredibly discerning and experienced. They can immediately sense when there is a spirit of one-upmanship on stage, and that can put them off. They want to see the artists enjoying one another’s music, smiling at each other and responding to one another with genuine warmth.
They love watching musicians work together to create something greater than the sum of their individual contributions: a single, unified musical experience.
And I think that is what makes the Chennai Margazhi season so special. Beyond the music, the concerts and the traditions, it is this spirit of collaboration, mutual respect and musical togetherness that truly brings everyone together.
Margazhi is for everyone
I would say Margazhi is for everyone, because anyone who loves the festive spirit will find something to enjoy during the season.
Margazhi is no longer just about concerts or music. It encompasses dance, musical workshops, lectures, experimental genres, and new spaces where artists can explore and present ideas for the first time. And then, of course, there is food, food trails and so much more. There is something happening for everyone. The entire city comes alive, and I think that is what makes Margazhi so special. Its cultural significance has also received international recognition, with Chennai’s December music and dance season being recognised by UNESCO.
Music, memory and generations
Having said that, I think a large part of the audience still comes to Margazhi for its nostalgic value. There may be people who listened to my grandmothers perform at the Music Academy twenty years ago and who now return to the same venue to experience their musical legacy through my performances. In that sense, Margazhi becomes a bridge between generations, allowing people to reconnect with memories and experiences through music.
Music has this extraordinary ability to evoke memories, regardless of the generation or era we belong to. There is almost always something from our past that a particular melody or musical phrase can bring back to life. Carnatic music, in particular, has a strong connection with this sense of nostalgia, and I have great respect for that.
A large proportion of the Carnatic music audience is still above the age of 50, and there are those who sometimes express concern about this. However, I feel it is only fair that we continue to cater to these listeners. They have supported the art form for decades, and the memories and emotional connections they associate with Carnatic music are often what keep them returning to concerts year after year. That relationship deserves to be valued and nurtured.
From digital discovery to the concert stage
At the same time, we are seeing a new generation of listeners discovering Carnatic music through entirely different routes. Someone might discover a raga through a film song or a pop melody, or come across an artist on a digital platform before deciding to experience their music live.
With so many musicians doing wonderfully well on digital platforms, a growing number of young listeners are discovering artists through Instagram reels and other short-form videos. They might watch a musician perform for a minute or so on their phone and then decide to attend a live concert, where they get to experience that same artist performing for two and a half hours.
I think there is a wonderful sense of awe in that transition: going from a brief digital encounter to experiencing the full depth, spontaneity and immersive quality of a live performance. That sense of discovery is what draws many young listeners towards the concert platform.
So, for me, Margazhi is for everyone who loves music. And I would not limit that to Carnatic music alone. It is for anyone who enjoys music, the energy of a festival, and the idea of spending an entire day immersed in a shared cultural experience with like-minded people.
You could plan a whole day around music, attend concerts, participate in listening sessions, explore food trails, or sit in on insightful discussions that help you understand what Carnatic music is trying to communicate. You could also discover how musicians listen to one another, exchange ideas and bring those ideas together to create a single musical experience.
Ultimately, Margazhi is for people who love discovery, who love coming together, and who believe in the magic of music. And I think that is what makes it so universal.
Chennai: A city that always listens
Chennai has always been a city that listens to music. While Margazhi, as a concert season, may seem like a revolution in itself, the truth is that even outside Margazhi, Chennai continues to host concerts throughout the year. Pick any random weekday in April, August or September, and you will still find venues presenting concerts on a daily basis.
That, to me, speaks volumes about the city’s enduring interest in Carnatic music. People make time every evening to visit their favourite sabhas. Even if they can spare just an hour, they will make the effort to attend a concert, sometimes without even knowing which artist is performing that day.
They simply want to be there. As I mentioned earlier, it almost becomes a force of habit, something deeply ingrained in their lives. They walk into familiar venues such as Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, Raga Sudha Hall, Shastri Hall or RK Convention Centre, allowing themselves to be surprised by whoever happens to be performing that evening.
And I think that is one of the reasons Chennai has always remained such an important centre for Carnatic music. The Margazhi festival is undoubtedly the pinnacle of this musical culture, but what I find particularly heart-warming is the way Chennai brings together so many different musical traditions, regardless of their individual identities.
A celebration of musical diversity
I believe inclusivity is an essential part of Chennai’s cultural identity. The city provides a home for so many different forms of music. You have the pure experience of listening to classical Carnatic music, or South Indian classical music, alongside North Indian classical concerts. You also have collaborations between North and South Indian classical musicians through jugalbandis.
Beyond that, there are Western classical performances, jazz concerts and folk traditions rooted in the original sounds of Tamil Nadu, including nattupura isai and koothu. All these forms of music coexist in Chennai, and each is given a platform to flourish.
I once mentioned in an interview that Chennai is one of those rare places where you could walk into a major auditorium and find it presenting an evening dedicated to film songs one week, perhaps celebrating the music of Mohammed Rafi or Kishore Kumar. The following week, the very same auditorium might host a Carnatic classical concert. A fortnight later, it could be a Western classical or jazz performance, followed a few weeks later by a stand-up comedy show.
That, to me, is the vibrancy of Chennai’s cultural landscape. It is a city that allows different art forms to coexist, reach their audiences and find their place in the public imagination.
Taking music beyond the familiar hubs
As a performing musician, I feel truly blessed to be part of this city. My hope is that both audiences and performers will continue to take Chennai’s cultural legacy forward by making it accessible to an even wider section of society.
One area where I believe we can do better is in taking concerts beyond the established cultural hubs of Chennai. There may be people in other parts of the city who genuinely want to listen to Carnatic music but find it difficult to travel to the central areas where most concerts take place. I think it would be worthwhile for artistes, sabhas and cultural organisations to explore more venues across the city, bringing concerts closer to these audiences rather than expecting everyone to come to the same familiar locations.
There is also another small but meaningful gesture that musicians and cultural organisations could consider: taking music to people who may no longer have the opportunity to experience it for themselves. This could include visiting orphanages, homes for destitute women and children, and facilities that care for burn survivors.
These are people who may once have had music as a regular part of their lives but, owing to unfortunate circumstances, may no longer have access to concerts or cultural experiences. Taking music to them could be a wonderful act of kindness.
If musicians and organisations come together to make such initiatives possible, we can help ensure that the art form reaches people who might otherwise feel excluded from it. After all, music should not be limited by geography, circumstance or access. It should be something that everyone has the opportunity to experience and enjoy.
I think that is one way we can honour Chennai’s inclusive musical spirit: not only by preserving its rich traditions, but also by making sure that more people have the opportunity to be part of them.
For more updates, join/follow our
https://www.whatsapp.com/channel/0029Vb677uz60eBXiDYheb0n