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The idea of the Home at Last concert series is to make classical music interesting to kids who have a basic level of interest but, understandably, not the patience to sit in a concert hall for two plus hours. Accordingly, the instructions to attendees include the standard ones (keep your phone on silent, and if you must get up, do it between songs), but with the caveat that the latter instruction does not apply to children.

This was my first time attending one of these concerts, and I was pleasantly surprised not just by the number of children who attended, but also by how patiently they sat through it. However, the biggest surprise was how the concert itself made me feel like a child.

I have been listening to classical music ever since I was a child. In fact, the first film album that really got to me was Shankarabharanam — it was what made me want to learn the art form, and still ranks among my favourites. However, learning Carnatic music very quickly became a bore — there’s only so much Thaattu varisai and Varnam you can take before you realize that whatever joy there is, is at the other end of a really long road. Worse yet, even listening felt like work. With one notable exception: Raghuvamsasudha in Kathanakuthukalam raagam. To this day, when I hear Sa-ri-ma-ga-ri-sa,my heart skips several beats.

I mention this because, for around an hour and a half last Sunday, I watched Keshav Mohankumar (violin), Giridhar Udupa (ghatam) and Anirudha Bhat (mridangam) conduct a playful wordless conversation and felt exactly like I did when I first heard Raghuvamsasudha, even though that song wasn’t in the setlist.

The concert started off with the Abhogi varnam (interesting how, when we refer to varnams, we often just refer to the raagam). Now, Abhogi is a sort of dramatic raagam (Indraikku yaen indha from Vaidehi Kaathirundhaal immediately comes to mind), and while you don’t see a different side to the raagam itself in their rendition, it was a very good illustration of how a violin could be modulated the way a skilled vocalist would use his or her voice. The way the first line of the charanam was played, for instance, was so soft that it was almost like someone was whispering Maruparikorvajalanura.

The trio went on to do a cracking job of Hamsadhvani (Gam Ganapathe) and Lathangi (Marivere), but really, the kriti where they hit it completely out of the park was Manavyalakinchara. Now, while Nalinakanthi can be romantic (Endhan nenjil neenghadha), it announces its structural idiosyncrasy early: the aarohanam decides that the usual swara ordering is for chumps and goes S G3 R2 M1 P N3 S. (So does Kathanakuthukalam, in case you were wondering.) True to that spirit, Keshav treated the kriti not as a plea from Thyagayya to his own mind, but as a carnival funfair. For instance, he took the Anupallavi and first played the whole thing in a lower octave, before normal service resumed. Just that little change enlivened the proceedings immeasurably.

The central piece of the performance was Nagumomu. The last phrase of the alaapanai was a thing of beauty — an ascending phrase that settled on the madhyamam, perfectly setting up the opening line of the pallavi. Very well done. The kalpana swaram in this number was very interesting in how they played with the meter — there was, for instance, an extended section more likely to be found in a composition in Mishra Chaapu talam than one in Adi talam. Obviously, it all balanced out in the end (I suspect classical musicians can teach factor arithmetic better than most math teachers), but just the way the meter kept getting switched around made it unpredictable and interesting. This piece ended with an extended thani avarthanam (with some konnakol thrown in) — a chamber concert with good speakers and good acoustics can take an already excellent percussion piece and elevate it to the sublime.

There was also an extended lec-dem slash Q&A section, something I wish more concerts would do. I learnt a few new things, such as that there is only ghatam-making family around, somewhere in Manamadurai. And that the easiest way to tell if kids are interested is if they ask a lot of questions. And they did.

Home at Last is the brainchild of Rudy (from Thermal and a Quarter) and Anagha. This edition was hosted by Lakshmi (in her wonderfully done-up home). Beyond the obvious, here’s what I realized: more than almost anything else, good music feels like home.