A Band Apart

After a painfully long sound check, followed by a quick change from casual tees to tie-and-dye shirts, a four-piece band opens the show at a...

After a painfully long sound check, followed by a quick change from casual tees to tie-and-dye shirts, a four-piece band opens the show at a suburban campus ground. A middle-aged musician with a bass guitar introduces the band to a squealing audience. A downpour begins, the crowd cheers some more.

The band8217;s first track, Bandeh, from the Black Friday soundtrack, raises a cry for an encore. Ma Rewa, a bhajan that was born during the Narmada Bachao Andolan, becomes an anthem. After three songs, Indian Ocean leaves the stage disappointed with the sound system but content that campus gigs have always been winners. 8220;I remember when it started raining during a concert at IIM Lucknow,8221; recalls Susmit Sen, founder member of the band. 8220;The students held umbrellas for us.8221;

But when Indian Ocean started out in 1990, there was no big bang. The band did a meagre seven shows during its first five years. 8220;Our average earning was Rs 5,000 per head per year,8221; says Rahul Ram, 38, the band8217;s bassist. 8220;At the time, some people had jobs, the others were simply poor.8221; Sometime in the mid-90s, all four decided to make music full-time, a choice that most Indian bands shy away from. So, you have a Ph.D in Environmental Science from Cornell University8212;Ram8212;playing a bass guitar for a living. 8220;If any of us did this for money, Indian Ocean wouldn8217;t exist,8221; explains Ram.

Sen is not exactly bohemian either. His decade-long marketing career ended three years after the band was formed. 8220;My job took an inverse graph,8221; says the 42-year-old guitarist. 8220;But there came a time when none of us could do anything but music.8221; Tabla player and vocalist Aseem Chakravarty quit his advertising career: 8220;It had become a mechanical business, and I had a much better alternative.8221; After their first drummer switched bands in 1994, Indian Ocean heard a band called Gravy Train. 8220;They sounded really tight and we realised that it was because of their young drummer,8221; says Sen. He admits the 22-year-old drummer Amit Kilam now 32, then still in college, didn8217;t even stand the chance of finding a real job. This spot of cradle-snatching is a private joke.

The band did just seven shows in its first five years. ldquo;On average, wemade Rs 5,000 per head per year,rdquo; says bassist Rahul Ram.

Kilam is on the phone with his three-year-old daughter Meha. 8220;I think we tolerate our families,8221; he mocks, when asked how spouses and children deal with their vagabond existence. 8220;We can never assure anyone that we will be at any place at anytime, just in case a show comes up.8221; It8217;s the price you pay for ignoring the demands of your bank account.