This happened about 10 years back. Suren and I were having dinner at grand ma’s. We were slurping up the thick curd that trickled down our fingers in slo-mo. Murali mama entered. With a big ass ‘assembled’ audio system, complete with two monster-sized speakers (two oopars and two tuiters to quote mama.)
I was all set to join mama, with my eyes popping out when Suren made a sign: stay calm. Ignore. So we acted like we never gave a shit about the new music system. To be honest, I had never seen such a big music system in my life. It was quite tough to pretend that you never cared. Mama was desperate to grab our attention; we gave him enough gossip/content about the MJ, Madonna, George Michael so he could act cool when he was with his friends (the neighborhood mechanic, Kanniappan aka Appu, the video library guy, Snake Chandru among so many illustrious others.) So, it was important for mama to get our side of the story about his new audio system.
‘I got two oopars and two tuitters…’ he announced aloud. We did not even bother or give the impression that we were inclined to hear what he was saying. But he continued anyway.
‘I bought this tape da. The whole of Ritchie street is playing only this tape…’ And he started playing the tape. It was Malgadi Subha’s Telugu album. The tweeters hissed, just like those in the tea shops that abounded in our locality. The woofers thudded with raw power. The small living room was filled with the exotic voice of Malgadi Subha, accompanied by the ‘tchssss tchhsss’ and the ‘gumpphh gummppp’ of the speakers. After a minute or so, Murali mama snapped the music shut. There was a small crowd at the front door. Our neighbor, the Palakad Mami, in her thick Palakad accent sang, ‘Enna didhu Murali, Carnatic edhuvum illaya?’ Murali mama beamed and chuckled and fished an MS bhajans tape and played it till maami wept. My granny, who wasn’t all that excited about Malgadi Subha and her raunchy vocals, had a smile of contentment on her wrinkled face. Game, set, match, tournament Murali mama?
That’s what I thought when Suren, who was still licking the curd off his fingers, mumbled, ‘but does it have Contontik?’ It exploded on Murali mama. A flurry of emotions raced across his frail face. I also joined Suren, ‘Yes, yes does it have Contontik audio technology?’
The room was pregnant with that pause. Murali mama started tapping his fingers on the stand on which the audio system sat. My granny returned to the kitchen, to wrap up for the day. The small crowd had disappeared. It was just the three of us now. The finger-rapping became faster now. I am sure Murali mama wanted to kill the both of us and throw us from the Kotturpuram bridge. Suren flashed his ‘See-how-I-can-screw-you’ grin, shrugged and we were about to walk out, when Murali mama’s voice rang out, first hesitantly, like that of a man who couldn’t get it up at the crucial juncture, but desperately wanted some.
‘Yeah, it has Contontik. I double-checked.’ We turned around, nodded, and said ‘I thought so. I mean how could YOU have missed it!’ The smile came back to Murali mama’s face. And of course we ‘borrowed’ 100 bucks from him. He was in a generous mood. Otherwise he would not part with a penny. He hated us that we always tricked him and flicked money off him. But this time, he was only happy to give us the 100 Rupee note; a crumpled, dirty bill that had languished in the Tantex underwear all day (or month?)
So, what is this Contontik? Okay, here goes: almost every audio system ships with it. Only they don’t tell you about it. Do the Hero Honda guys say ‘Uses IC Engine’ No! They don’t. That’s Contontik for you. The name Contontik comes from Contontik-1 who ruled the Kichilikas in 9th century BC. If you had read my earlier post you will know by now that Contontik was big on technology: his ministry of science worked away, burning midnight oil, only to innovate and make life easier for the average Kichilika citizen. When you dig more into Somuchidononanda Pandey’s research, it reveals some amazing facts:
Contontik-1 was a playboy too. He just loved the company of women: the more the merrier. So, there were only women staff in his palace. And our man used to get very naughty when his queen (Mrs.Contontik-1) was out, sight seeing or shopping. Now, for the innovator that he was, Contontik-1 was an uxorious bastard. He was shit scared of his wife. He loved her lots and that didn’t help his cause. So he took extraordinary care when he was, um, taking little Johnny for a walk.
So he always had his best friend (and also the state poet) Bou-Utta-Thakkali stand guard at the foot of the 1000 step-staircase that lead to the entrance of the palace. The staircase and its acoustics were designed in such a way that when Thakkali clapped, Contontik-1, up there in the palace some 400 ft above, could hear it crystal clear. Yes, yes, I know even the Golconda fort had such a system but isn’t it plain to see? The Golconda Sultans copied it from the Kichilikas. There is a famous couplet that Bou-Utta-Thakkali wrote, when Contontik-1, his best pal, asked him to stand guard while he was having an orgy up there in the palace. The couplet is in DavaJaangiri, the Kichilika script:
Gujals panna mela nee poi, Gujals panna mela nee poi,
Kai Thatta Solrey enna, Yechhakala naayi!
So, the next time you go ‘Wow, the sound is so good!’ remember that it is Contontik that is giving you that experience. Funny, isn’t it? How a king’s libido contributed to modern sound technology and Virtual Private Networks (VPNs). More on VPN and its connection to Contontik later.
