Imagine, I am told, school kids tidying up the Cauvery and her shorelines at Thiruvaiyaru as part of a community campaign that engages them in the goings-on. Imagine the Kalyan Mahal Ghat also looks spiffy and a stage is set at the top. Imagine dusk has fallen, fresh floral decorations are in place, and hundreds of earthen lamps are lit up. But because you can&rsquot be craning your neck to see the performers from the bottom of the steps, the audience must be moved away. It&rsquos logical. So imagine there&rsquos a bamboo bridge over the sparse puddle of water that&rsquos the river here, and we can climb over it to sit on the opposite sandbank. I have been to Thiruvaiyaru more than once. It&rsquos really quite hard to imagine all this. The one exception is Prakriti Foundation&rsquos Festival of Sacred Music (www.festivalofsacredmusic.com), now in its seventh edition, during which the nondescript town and its invisible history is revived into something magical. Curator-catalyst Ranvir Shah, Prakriti&rsquos founder, not only conceived of such a setting, this past spring he had 45 Manganiyars from Rajasthan performing for a 1,000-strong audience in the deep heart of rural Tamil Nadu.


