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I was about eight years old. My father was away for a couple of days and there was a concert under the auspices of Nadabrahma Sangeeta Sabha, Mysore. I remember that it was someone very famous but do not remember who. Ariyakkudi (Ramanuja Iyengar)? Musiri (Subramanya Iyer)? In those days, Nadabrahma concerts were held in a large hall of a building called Sahakara Bhavana. It was about two kilometres from home and I had to take a single straight road to it. I insisted that I go to the concert. Looking back, I am surprised that my mother let me. My father was a member of the Sabha so I had a pass. I was given strict instructions that I should be back home by eight. That would have given me just an hour and half at the concert. I had no idea how I was to know when to start back from the concert as I had no watch.
Anyway, I walked all the way to the venue, listened to the concert for an hour or so and walked back. When I was a few hundred metres away from home, I saw my uncle, who lived near my house, walking towards me. My mother had sought his help to go and get me back. He took me home to the great relief of my mother. All I remember about the concert was that an elderly gentleman, sitting next to me asked me who I was and why I was there, if I was alone, and so on. I felt very important and grown up and I basked in that feeling for quite a while.
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