The Monk who deals in Music

In a small bylane off the busy Sarjapura Road in Koramangala lies the shop of Aruna Musicals. It is in Jakkasandra, which a reasonably posh area in Bangalore. The shop is hidden from the view as it sits pretty on the second floor of a not-so-old building. There’s an online kitchen that supplies food to customers over a mobile app on the ground floor. As a result, the place smells with the aroma of many cuisines. The climb to the top is not the most comfortable one, as the stairs seem to have been built in a hurry; almost like an afterthought.

Nonetheless, the ascension to the second floor brings to you a magical place, full of myriad musical instruments and pieces of equipment. There’s a glass door that separates the outside world from this fascinating place. And standing with this juncture is AS Ganesh, the owner of the business. He stands there at the gate, smiling and stern at the same time.

We discovered Aruna Musicals by sheer luck. On a visit to Bangalore, we wished to purchase a guitar for our younger son, who was insisting on it. Searching through Amazon and Bajao, we were convinced that the best way to buy a piece would be to do so physically. Considering we are as aware of a guitar as, say, a poet is aware of the atomic structure of benzene, we needed guidance more than purchase. A cursory search on Google convinced us that Aruna Musicals is a great place to start with the quest. The reviews spoke effusively and glowingly of the owner, who was not keen to make a sell but help you pursue music. The reviews were a bit dated, but we were convinced about making the visit.

Entering the place (it’s hard to call it a shop), you are automatically drawn into a different dimension. Unlike music shops where instruments are stacked up in bright cases and shiny lights, here they are all assembled like they are part of an ongoing musical. Indeed, there are scores and scores of them, but they are not out of reach behind glass cages; here, they are all around you, wrapping you in their warmness. And right at the centre is the master of ceremonies, Mr Ganesh.

He is warm, effusive and kind. But he is also firm and stern, a fact we realised when a long-haired guitarist landed up without an appointment and asked him to make a minor tweak to his instrument, “It is not really much. It will be very easy.” The casual manner in which the lad spoke about the instrument seemed to rile up Ganesh. He somehow seemed to control his anger and expressed his inability to help him and happily guided him to another shop.

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