As I took my seat at the Esplanade Concert Hall on Nov 21, for the opening night of Kalaa Utsavam – Indian Festival of Arts, I didn’t expect to be swept away – quite literally – by a tide of music.
But that’s exactly what Samudra – An Ocean of Musical Traditions did. It didn’t just open the festival; it opened a portal into the soul of Singapore.
Conceived by tabla maestro Nawaz Mirajkar and performed by SwaRhythm Singapore, Samudra was a 90-minute sonic journey that transcended genres and geographies.
Thirty-five musicians – Indian, Chinese, Malay, and Western classical – gathered on one stage, not to blend their sounds, but to let them breathe, converse, and ebb into each other like rivers into the sea.
The word samudra – Sanskrit for “ocean” – wasn’t just a poetic title. It was the very spirit of the evening.
Water became metaphor, medium, and message. From Gu Wei’s Sky, Silk and Sea tracing ancient Silk Road currents, to Syafiqah ’Adha Sallehin’s Bisikan Samudera honouring the seafaring Orang Laut, each piece felt like a ripple carrying cultural memory.
Avik Chari’s Jal Katha (Water Stories) was a highlight for me. Its rhythmic vitality – drawing from folk traditions – was both contemporary and primal.
But the most moving was the finale, Confluence, by Nawaz and Renu Suresh: A stunning culmination of everything the show represented. Not a cacophony, but a conversation in perfect harmony.
Dedric Wong’s sensitive conducting held the entire performance together like a tide chart – never imposing, always flowing.
The visual layer, through live sand art, was pure magic. To see waves, boats, and riverbanks emerge in sync with the music added emotional depth to an already immersive experience.
And then there was the water percussion segment – yes, real water – by Foo Sek Sheng. Splashes, drips, vibrations. It was visceral. Literal water transformed into rhythm.
In Samudra, I didn’t just hear music. I felt history, empathy, and identity – fluid and borderless.
It reminded me that in multicultural Singapore, art doesn’t just reflect who we are. Sometimes, like an ocean, it shows us who we’re still becoming.
santosh@sph.com.sg
